I wrote some cheesy fanfiction. And Yih Shan wanted to read it.
[Shawn Johnson][Individual][Balance Beam]
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN Shawn Johnson. Unfortunately. I’d have her in a photoshoot with Justine for Adidas. But then, I’d need to own Justine too, so she won’t complain. LOL. The events told in this story are not entirely true. Some of it could be. Like, say, the end result. But yeah. Uh. Yeah.
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This. Was not good. Four events on and only 3 silvers. I still don’t have gold. And Nas is the World Champion on beam. My head hurt. My stomach hurt. I don’t know why. But I shut my eyes as I tried to block out the pain, and focus.
“Shawn. Please, wake up,” my coach and the man who is like my second father, Liang Chow said, as I fell off the beam again. This was only practice. And the competition’s already started. I didn’t have much time left. “We’ve trained so hard, for so long. I know I wouldn’t be the one who would be disappointed,” he said. He was right. He knew it would hurt me more than anyone else. Me, All Around World Champion who didn’t make it in the Olympics. I climbed back on the beam. My favourite apparatus.
I thought of when I was waiting on the floor during the All Around finals. When Nastia’s results were announced. When I knew it was almost impossible to beat her. Yes, Impossible is Nothing, but sometimes, things don’t work out. She had called out, “Come on, Shawn!” from off the floor. It reminded me of the Worlds, when I found out MY score, that it was almost impossible for HER to beat me. I had called out, “Come on, Nas!” then. The irony of the role reversal will never leave.
Soon, it would be time for me to go out there and make the best of my last 90 seconds in the Olympics. I did 2 more routines, sticking each landing. My confidence was coming back. “You’re ready, Shawn,” Chow said. I took in a deep breath to focus, nodding at my coach’s words. I glanced over at Nastia, who was graceful as ever, as her father gave her instructions in Russian. The words foreign to my ears.
I walked out to get ready. Only 2 more girls before I went. Blood was pounding in my ears, and my heart was threatening to burst out of my chest. My face hid all the turmoil. My smile always did.
It was my turn. I chalked up, then walked over to the beam, patting it for good luck, trying to sooth my nerves in any way possible. I took in a deep breath, and waited until the sign changed from red to green.
The beeper went off.
My final 90 seconds. I mounted the beam. Triple salto, right off the block. A full twist. Pirouette. I prayed that I wouldn’t fall. Not now. Not this moment. I wanted Gold. For Chow, to prove to China that he succeeded in moulding a gold medallist. For my parents, for they have sacrificed so much for me and my gymnastics. For myself.
I stood at the edge of the beam. It was like the world was shut out. All I could see was the narrow strip of felt-covered wood, and the mat below. All I heard was my breath.
The beeper sounded again.
I ran as hard as I could, did a somersault, and did a full-in tuck as I flew in the air. I landed on my feet.
Just then, the crowd exploded. I saluted the judges, the crowd, grin on my face. I had given my all. I climbed off the floor, relief flooding me, the pain from earlier on a mere throbbing because of the adrenaline rushing in me. I hugged Cheng Fei. I hugged Li Shanshan. I hugged the Chinese coach. I went over to Chow and hugged him. “Good job, Shawn,” he said, patting my back, voice filled with pride.
Now, to wait for the score. I was breathing heavily after the exertion. The score was put up. 16.225. I took the lead from Cheng Fei. But I couldn’t celebrate yet. There was still Nastia and Koko Tsurumi to go.
Nastia got second. I could barely believe it. Her difficulty was only marginally lower than mine. She got off the floor and took me in a big hug. “Ah! Oh my God!” she squealed. She went around hugging more people. One more to go.
Koko Tsurumi flailed. Then she fell. My heart soared. I kept a professional, indifferent exterior, to respect my opponent. When Koko’s routine was done, and the points given out, I waved to the crowd. I did it. At last. I was more relieved than happy. Shawn Johnson was going home with a Gold medal after all.
Nastia grabbed me in another hug. “You did it, Shawnie! You did it!” She squealed.
I did it.
–FIN–
I am now regretting that I did not get the inspiration to write this during the English paper. (See how you can fit the ending there?) Now I’m probably going to get lousy marks for an uninspired essay. 
Constructive criticism and comments much wanted!
