Ekaterina Gordieva
Posted: Mon Jun 04, 2007 5:03 pm
Cheater. That’s what they call me. They say that I should be ashamed for disgracing my team and my country so. They ask me what I was thinking, what was going through my head to put all that I had at risk. All I can tell them is I didn’t know.
I barely even remember what happened right before it. The beam. The floor exercise. I guess they went well. My sisters were calling ourselves the New Magnificent Seven, claiming we would even eclipse the 1996 team. The scores were beginning to make that a reality. Could we really be on our way to a gold medal?
Then it was my turn to shine. The uneven parallel bars. I chalked my hands and took a deep breathe. I heard David, our coach, and my sisters yelling encouragement my way, before it all just faded. No flashbulbs popping. No judges to impress. No TV cameras. Just me and the bars. I jumped forward and let the swing take me to the next bar. A twist and a flip later, I was swinging back. Everything fell into place, the grips, the turns. I smiled as my dismount neared. It was a hard technique I had been working on. I let go of the high bar and began the flip over the low bar. Immediately my smile faded. I let go too late! I’m not going to clear the bar! I closed my eyes and waited for the impact, praying that it hits my legs.
But it never came. Slowly the stadium faded back in around me, only no one was talking. I opened my eyes to see the bars six inches from my face. My coach and my teammates were staring at me. The cameras were flashing behind them. I looked around to see what caught me. No arms. No net. Nothing. Then I heard the announcer. “Gordieva is floating!” I yelped and tucked my head as I fell the last few feet to the mat. As I stood, the reporters descended on me. The crowd chimed in. They sounded angry. They called me a freak. And worse.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, David made it to my side. He shielded me face and rushed me out of the crowd, back to the hotel. He didn’t say anything to me the whole way there. He just stared straight ahead. He looked hurt. I couldn't stopped crying. My parents were at the hotel waiting on us. They hugged me and asked if I was alright. David just stood there. After a moment he asked my parents if they could take me back to their room. He said he had six other girls to look out for and they couldn’t afford this distraction. I felt like I had been kicked in the gut.
The next few days were a haze. I was taken before the Olympic Committee and asked about the incident. Of course, the hearing was all for show. How could I possibly stand against thousands of eyewitnesses and millions who saw it on live television? I told them what I could. “I didn’t know I had these powers. I’ve never used them before, and I don’t know how I used them that day. I just know I didn't want to get hurt.” They didn’t believe me. My teammates even turned on me, telling reporters they always knew I was “too good to be true”. I had never felt so betrayed, so hurt. I was stripped of the bronze and gold I had won individually and kicked from the team. I was told I could never again compete in the Olympics. I guess I cried when they told me that. My mother held me while my father blocked the cameras.
It’s still amazing to me how one split second can bring everything I’ve worked for to ruin. The years of training. The titles and medals. All gone. The reporters still call, still want a piece of my humiliation. Maybe that's why we're leaving California. My father told me that we would be moving to Rhode Island, to a place called Paragon City. He said there are others like me there. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Right now, I just want a normal life, some anonymity. Maybe I can find it there.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ekaterina “Kat” Gordieva is of Romanian descent. Her parents immigrated to America when she was a young child so she could train as a gymnast under the best coaches. She is a short, lithe girl who looks much younger than her sixteen years and she speaks with a slight accent. Her long jet black hair is almost always pulled back in a ponytail, and braided when she’s in the gym. She seems like she wants to be outgoing and make some new friends, but is a little afraid that she might not fit in. Once she does get to know people, she will try her hardest to keep everyone happy, and often thinks that people are upset with her although she can’t quite put her finger on why she feels that way. She doesn’t like to talk about the fiasco at the Olympics, although anyone who has been near a TV and has even a passing interest in sports has heard about her.
She is an average student, opting to spend more time in a gym than in a classroom. She is often seen in class drawing in the margins of her notebook. Her interests in music are varied, everything from Mozart to Evanescence. But what she really likes in the singer/songwriters like KT Tunstall and Anna Nalick.
Kat is listed as a grav/FF controller, but she’s really telekinetic. She can move things with her mind and put up psychic shields around her and those she cares for.
I barely even remember what happened right before it. The beam. The floor exercise. I guess they went well. My sisters were calling ourselves the New Magnificent Seven, claiming we would even eclipse the 1996 team. The scores were beginning to make that a reality. Could we really be on our way to a gold medal?
Then it was my turn to shine. The uneven parallel bars. I chalked my hands and took a deep breathe. I heard David, our coach, and my sisters yelling encouragement my way, before it all just faded. No flashbulbs popping. No judges to impress. No TV cameras. Just me and the bars. I jumped forward and let the swing take me to the next bar. A twist and a flip later, I was swinging back. Everything fell into place, the grips, the turns. I smiled as my dismount neared. It was a hard technique I had been working on. I let go of the high bar and began the flip over the low bar. Immediately my smile faded. I let go too late! I’m not going to clear the bar! I closed my eyes and waited for the impact, praying that it hits my legs.
But it never came. Slowly the stadium faded back in around me, only no one was talking. I opened my eyes to see the bars six inches from my face. My coach and my teammates were staring at me. The cameras were flashing behind them. I looked around to see what caught me. No arms. No net. Nothing. Then I heard the announcer. “Gordieva is floating!” I yelped and tucked my head as I fell the last few feet to the mat. As I stood, the reporters descended on me. The crowd chimed in. They sounded angry. They called me a freak. And worse.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, David made it to my side. He shielded me face and rushed me out of the crowd, back to the hotel. He didn’t say anything to me the whole way there. He just stared straight ahead. He looked hurt. I couldn't stopped crying. My parents were at the hotel waiting on us. They hugged me and asked if I was alright. David just stood there. After a moment he asked my parents if they could take me back to their room. He said he had six other girls to look out for and they couldn’t afford this distraction. I felt like I had been kicked in the gut.
The next few days were a haze. I was taken before the Olympic Committee and asked about the incident. Of course, the hearing was all for show. How could I possibly stand against thousands of eyewitnesses and millions who saw it on live television? I told them what I could. “I didn’t know I had these powers. I’ve never used them before, and I don’t know how I used them that day. I just know I didn't want to get hurt.” They didn’t believe me. My teammates even turned on me, telling reporters they always knew I was “too good to be true”. I had never felt so betrayed, so hurt. I was stripped of the bronze and gold I had won individually and kicked from the team. I was told I could never again compete in the Olympics. I guess I cried when they told me that. My mother held me while my father blocked the cameras.
It’s still amazing to me how one split second can bring everything I’ve worked for to ruin. The years of training. The titles and medals. All gone. The reporters still call, still want a piece of my humiliation. Maybe that's why we're leaving California. My father told me that we would be moving to Rhode Island, to a place called Paragon City. He said there are others like me there. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Right now, I just want a normal life, some anonymity. Maybe I can find it there.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ekaterina “Kat” Gordieva is of Romanian descent. Her parents immigrated to America when she was a young child so she could train as a gymnast under the best coaches. She is a short, lithe girl who looks much younger than her sixteen years and she speaks with a slight accent. Her long jet black hair is almost always pulled back in a ponytail, and braided when she’s in the gym. She seems like she wants to be outgoing and make some new friends, but is a little afraid that she might not fit in. Once she does get to know people, she will try her hardest to keep everyone happy, and often thinks that people are upset with her although she can’t quite put her finger on why she feels that way. She doesn’t like to talk about the fiasco at the Olympics, although anyone who has been near a TV and has even a passing interest in sports has heard about her.
She is an average student, opting to spend more time in a gym than in a classroom. She is often seen in class drawing in the margins of her notebook. Her interests in music are varied, everything from Mozart to Evanescence. But what she really likes in the singer/songwriters like KT Tunstall and Anna Nalick.
Kat is listed as a grav/FF controller, but she’s really telekinetic. She can move things with her mind and put up psychic shields around her and those she cares for.