Free Acrobaddict by Joe Putignano Page B

for a long time now, and it is very hard for me to tell you this, but I got offered a new job coaching out West.” He paused for a moment, and I waited for him to say he was joking, but then he continued. “So I’ll be leaving here in a few weeks.”
    After realizing that Dan was serious, I suddenly felt self-conscious about my choice of seating. I wished I hadn’t sat on the horse, higherthan everyone else, because my eyes filled with tears, but there was no way I was going to cry in public. I felt sick and nauseated. I looked down at Seth, who began to cry, apparently unaware that young warriors are never supposed to let their guard down. I saw the tears in his eyes and felt his emotions, but I refused to let a single drop fall. I pulled the tears back into my eyes, letting my anger swallow them up.
    As the meaning of Dan’s announcement sunk in, I became enraged. I was surprised the leather pommel horse I was sitting on didn’t catch fire from the intense heat coming off my body. Dan couldn’t leave us. I needed him! For the rest of practice that afternoon, all of Dan’s warriors were hushed and solemn, and I felt like I’d just been told my best friend had died.
    When I got home from practice and told my mom, I started to cry. She told me she had already been informed of Dan’s decision and hadn’t wanted to tell me. She attempted to soften the blow by trying to convince me that the new job in California was a much better opportunity for him. She said the pay would be better and he would have more career-building opportunities. But I didn’t care about any of that. It was about me and my loss, not Dan’s good fortune.
    Part of me died that night, and I was consumed by an overwhelming sadness. My whole world was demolished, and lightning struck, igniting a massive blaze and setting fire to my Mount Olympus. Zeus would never reign again, and I would never be an Olympian. I felt ripped off, angry, and betrayed. Dan was the only positive influence I’d had in my life, and I could not imagine living without him.
    I grew obstinate and self-obsessed, unwilling to see how that move would benefit Dan’s life. In my rage, a small piece of darkness was born within me. Life continued, but I couldn’t see past the situation. The sun still rose in the morning, my mother continued to love my absent father, and life sped along the way it always had. I no longer felt support at home, and everything seemed to turn into an emotional war. All I kept thinking was How could Dan leave me behind?
    That week at practice I thought if I worked harder, he would stay; that if I somehow became Olympic material he would change his mind. But it was already decided. Each day brought his departure closer,and the bright future I used to dream about became a threatening enemy. I felt weak because I couldn’t stop what the future would bring, and frail because I had become so affected by another human being. During practice I held my emotions in my chalky palms, commanding them to flow through me. I would use my wrath to push myself through difficult skills.
    Finally, the day I had feared the most arrived, and Dan left. I did my best to ignore what was happening and convinced myself he would come back. I just continued in the same direction, athletically preparing myself for the future. Over time, I would write letters to Dan describing my progress. I never gave up hope that he would return.
    In place of Dan we got a new coach who was older, and I instantly despised him. I attempted to place myself on the same level as him. I allowed him to coach me, but he wasn’t able to guide my artistry the way Dan had. His descriptions of how to perform a skill were unfamiliar to me, and, like a plant without sunlight, my gymnastics skills began to wither. I didn’t have confidence in his coaching abilities, and I began to hold back. This was odd to him because he knew of my history and abilities, and had watched me compete since I had started. He