Gym Dandy to the Rescue

NEW WAVERLY, Texas â€”  Bela Karolyi is standing beneath the head of a 1,400-pound Alaskan moose, beaming like a Transylvanian Teddy Roosevelt, relishing in retelling the tale of the big one that didn’t get away.

Karolyi hams up every detail: How he crept up too close to the moose and ran out of ammunition after two shots . . . how the moose, wounded and rather annoyed about it, made an angry charge at his assailant . . . how Karolyi responded once he realized the odds were no longer stacked in his favor (“I say to myself, ‘Run, Bela, run!’ �) . . . how the moose, to Karolyi’s great relief, then trembled, staggered and finally collapsed into the brush.

Looking up at the mounted head, Karolyi proudly notes, “That trophy is entered in Boone and Crockett, the official record book of the wild games. Is pretty high in the record book, probably 14th or 15th in all time.

“This is the pride of every hunter. You get into the record book and Vheeeee!�

Maybe, but that’s nothing, really, when compared to what’s staring Karolyi in the face right now:

A deflated and demoralized U.S. women’s gymnastics program, badly needing another Kerri Strug-style lift from Karolyi to carry it back to the Olympic medals podium.

Karolyi, 57, thought he had scripted the perfect final act to his coaching career in 1996 when, after Team USA clinched the gold medal, he seized the moment--and Strug--and carried the injured gymnast to the victory stand, armies of camera lenses trained on his every move, for the photo op of a lifetime.

Shortly after the Olympics, Karolyi announced his retirement from competitive coaching--his second or third such announcement, depending on who’s counting. But this time, it surely had to be it: the gold medal, the Magnificent Seven, “Come on, Kerri, you can do it!�

What could possibly ever top Atlanta ‘96?

What could even come close?

Certainly not the immediate successors to the Magnificent Seven. That much was painfully obvious in the World Championships last fall at Tianjin, China, when the American women tumbled all the way to sixth place.

Sixth place?

Karolyi called it “a disaster . . . one of the most spectacular drops in the history of the sport. From first to sixth? With the humongous pool of talent we have? Incredible!�

If shock waves of panic didn’t roll through the USA Gymnastics offices in Indianapolis, a new sense of urgency surely did. Federation President Bob Colarossi phoned Karolyi to ask for a lifeline: Could Karolyi put aside the big-game hunting brochures long enough to return to the program as “national team coordinator� and maybe see that the Americans don’t embarrass themselves too badly Down Under?

“Let’s try it!� was Karolyi’s response. “Time is short--it’s not like we have four years to build a team. But we do have a team. A very good team, but a team that has not been put together strongly enough, I guess. . . .

“The goal is to place the team back in the position it deserves--on the Olympic medals stand.�

So, beginning in January, Karolyi scheduled monthly Bela Boot Camps for the top gymnasts in the country, inviting them down for four-day training sessions at his 1,200-acre ranch in the Sam Houston National Forest, where Karolyi can observe and assess and dispense his unique brand of inspiration.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Wow! Looking goot!� Karolyi bellows as the gymnasts hustle from station to station, sweating through another round of circuit training. The emphasis, as always with Karolyi, is on strength and stamina, with exercises seemingly lifted out of some long-lost Eastern Bloc physical education manual--pull-ups, press handstands, rope climbing in the pike position.

“They know the camp is serious, is tough,� Karolyi says of the gymnasts, “so I know everybody is going to give their best performance.�

If not, the consequences can be ruthless. When Dominique Moceanu, a former pupil and longtime favorite, arrived at the first camp out of shape and unable to complete the required number of handstands, Karolyi didn’t invite her back.

“Her physical shape and performance was not up to the criteria,� Karolyi says coldly, “so now she is on the B team.�

Six months remain before the Sydney Olympics. Time enough for Moceanu, a 1996 gold medalist, to rally for a spot on the final six-woman team? Karolyi frowns.

“Hard to say,� he says. “She was a fairly long shot in January.�

*

Yes, it is a tough camp.

Karolyi is guiding a few reporters through a tour of his ranch, entertaining them with a nonstop, rambling Bela Lugosi-meets-Dr. Doolittle sort of dialogue as he points out the llama on the hill and the pregnant camel next to the tractor garage and explains why his collection of exotic animals includes no zebras.

“They’re vetty veecious,� he says.

The group passes a small man-made lake, and the commotion greatly disturbs a black swan that had been resting near the water’s edge.

Soon the swan is charging up the slope toward the group and pecking at the vest of a woman directing a film crew. Seeing this, Karolyi rushes over and gives the swan two swift kicks to the backside, punting the bird out of harm’s way and sending it scurrying back to the safety of the lake.

Karolyi roars with laughter.

“The Killer Swan!� he squeals with delight.

Inside the gymnasium, Karolyi gets similar results with simply a glare, an occasional approving smile and his reputation.

“At first, I was really nervous about it,� Vanessa Atler, a member of the 1999 U.S. world team, says of Camp Bela. “I think everybody was, because we didn’t know what to expect. We’ve heard how he’s very intimidating and things like that.

“But for me at least, I was just totally motivated. It made me remember how much I love gymnastics and why I’m in it. He pumps you so much. . . .

“He’s a cool guy. I don’t know what it is--it’s just like you want to be around him all the time. Because he makes you feel good. You just want to do so good for him, because you want his praise. It’s awesome.�

A harder sell has been the coaches of the individual gymnasts, many of them longtime rivals of Karolyi. Egos are sensitive in this sport, but Karolyi made the savvy political move of including the coaches at every camp and allowing them to work individually with their gymnasts after Karolyi has marched them through warmups.

After three camps, most of the coaches have warmed to the camp concept, although Kelli Hill, coach of the U.S. team at last year’s World Championships, wonders if “we need all of this.�

“It’s a lot of work, but it hasn’t been that different from what we do at home,� Hill says. “I think this is symbolic. I think it’s a media [event]--to get us in the media, whether it’s positive or negative. It brings focus on gymnastics. It’s putting the world on guard we will be back.�

Hill laughs at that last statement. “I’ll say it again: I do not believe we were the sixth-place team in China. We happened to be sixth place that day, because we had injured athletes that could not complete their routines. We had a lot of problems. But it wasn’t because we didn’t have athletes with talent.

“It’s not like we went out and did the best possible job we could do and we were sixth place. We did the worst possible job we could do, and we were sixth place. So, come September, if we can put six healthy kids on the floor, prepared to do their stuff, I think we have a shot at a medal.�

The head camp counselor, however, believes the task at hand is more complicated than that.

“I am happy, we are making progress,� Karolyi says as gymnasts vault and tumble behind him. But you can almost see the numbers grinding in his head. Sixth place. Far too low. Six months. Not nearly enough time.

“Is a long ways to go,� Karolyi says, eyes narrowing. “A vetty, vetty long ways to go.�