What's Missing From Women's Gymnastics?

I've been a little busy lately. That's not a complaint. It's an admission of fact. The busyness was not forced upon me. I chose it. Maybe it chose me. All I know is I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

The events that occupied my time lately centered around gymnastics, specifically women’s gymnastics. And more specific than that gymnastics events in which my granddaughter was a competitor.

A few weeks ago I made a pilgrimage to Memphis, Tennessee. That trip brought me to the BBQ and Blues Invitational Gymnastics Competition. Let me make three points about that event. Point one: Dizzy Dean said, “If it's true, it ain't bragging.” Point two: My granddaughter came in fourth overall in the competition. Point three: my granddaughter, no doubt because of the superiority of the genetics passed down from my side of the family, competes in an age division well above her own.

I watched her. I was astounded at her athletic ability. I could not comprehend that was my tiny granddaughter turning flips, dancing and prancing in perfect harmony with the music on the floor exercise. I wished I could be her as she flung herself in twists and turns from one uneven bar to the other. I held my breath as she flipped above the four inch wide balance beam and came to rest as though it were as wide and the landing path on an aircraft carrier. And I was amazed at how she propelled herself off that vault into the air twisting and turning before landing almost perfectly and tossing her hands upward to signify she'd completed it well.

I was hooked. I wasn't just hooked on my granddaughter. It didn't take athletic competition to accomplish that. I was hooked on the sport. I was hooked on the physical prowess of these young women. I was hooked on the thrill of it all.

It was no wonder, then, I found myself last week at the Atlanta Crown Invitational Gymnastic Competition. I got there early due to a meeting not lasting as long as I'd anticipated. My granddaughter wasn't scheduled to compete for a couple of hours. But I'd been captured by that competition so I went into the arena anyway.

Opening the door to the Gwinnett Convention Center I was assailed by the squeals and the chatter of girls, ages eight to eighteen. My mind processed the visuals of these young competitors texting away to their friends, whispering to each other about passing male teens, and wearing t-shirts proclaiming:

Push-ups make you pretty. - Gymnasts don't defy gravity; they defeat it. - Girls can't what? - Why walk when you can cartwheel? - You know you're a gymnasts when boys won't arm wrestle with you. - My boyfriend asked me to choose between him and gymnastics. I miss him. - If gymnastics were easy it would be called football.

Okay, yes! My granddaughter was competing. And she did well, really well. But despite that I walked out of that facility wondering if something were not askew. I watched my granddaughter and her teammates as well as the members of the other teams compete. They competed on vault, on floor exercise, on beam, and uneven bars.

Suddenly I realized men compete in floor, pommel horse, still rings, vault, parallel bars, and horizontal high bar, more and different events than the women.

Here's my question: Do you guys seriously think my granddaughter couldn't kick your you-know-what on those other events?