Sovetsky Sport. April 1, 1989. The slender, fragile girl stood straight up and froze for a split second on the beam. There was something in her of the amazing, ringing beauty of Natalia Kuchinskaya, of the spontaneity of Olga Korbut, of the concentration of Ludmila Turischeva, but even so she remained the one and only...
Only a few years passed and, as often happens with subjects of capricious, sparkling gymnastics princesses, the audience began to forget her name. New young ladies-in-waiting appeared, each with their own fans. But none of the young ones could repeat her record - 40 points out of 40 in the all-around competition at the Druzhba-84 tournament. No other athlete has ever managed to do this!
I wrote the word "forget" and crossed out the entire sentence. I wrote it again and thought... Yes, unfortunately, it is unlikely that sports fans will remember Olomouc, where Olga Mostepanova shone. Yes, now there are almost no letters from young soldiers asking - no, begging - for her address and her photo. But others don't forget her.
March 8. Dinamo. The little girl flew into the gym like a whirlwind and handed Olga a funny and ridiculous flower, made with her own hands from wire.
"Olga Vasilna, this is for you! Happy holiday!"
The girl lowered her eyes in embarrassment.
"Natashenka! For me? Thank you, my girl! How cute!"
And then Natashenka started chattering incessantly.
"I made one for my mom, my grandma, and you. Do you really like it? My mom said that I should give presents to everyone I love..."
Olga silently embraced and hugged the girl.
"OK, go run some more. Fifteen minutes until training..."
So that's it? Is big-time sports over? After all, everything could have been different last year...
In big-time sports, yes. But not in sports in general, and certainly not in gymnastics. As you can see, I became a children's coach. Remember our last conversation? So, my dreams are coming true.
So, is it difficult?
Yes. Firstly, I don't feel like a coach yet. Dinamo is my home, where I was brought when I was very little. I returned here with all my victories and defeats. And it seems to me that here they still see me as the former Olya Mostepanova, a student. They don't perceive me as a colleague yet.
Change schools. Go somewhere you weren't known before.
What are you saying! How can I leave home?! I've been here for 14 years. I still remember the old, small gym. Wrestlers train there now. This sports palace was built before my eyes. And I didn't go anywhere else when my parents moved to Lyubino and I, a schoolgirl, traveled across Moscow. Now I will stay here forever. If they don't kick me out, of course.
...Two more girls ran by.
"My first group," Olga smiled. "When I arrived at the kindergarten, I selected Milana, the light-haired one, who is naturally very flexible. Then her parents approached me and requested that I take her older sister. Look, there's the dark-haired one, Marinka. She likes to 'argue.' But how strong and hardworking she is! She makes Milana work."
How are things at the institute?
You asked if it was hard for me now, but I didn't tell you. Daytime classes, you know how hard that is. I study as hard as I can, and in the evenings I go to work. And then, you know, I treat the institute like a practical coach. There are too many useless subjects to study. And there is little time allocated for pedagogy or child psychology. I have to figure out everything myself. Although, I think that even when I finish GTsOLIFK [State Central Institute of Physical Culture], I will still run there if I have questions. To make up for what I was short-changed.
...The training of the little ones began. It seemed that Olga did everything like the other coaches. But again, as she once was on the platform, something was all her own. She spoke to the girls a little more affectionately, she paid more attention to each of them, and they obeyed her a little better. And during the rare, seconds-long breaks, they clung to her as if she was their mother.
Don't you remember your former glory?
No. But what am I saying? They don't forget me here. When I recruited a group, my students' parents were informed of all my titles. So they immediately treated me with some reverence. But what happened, happened, and I have to earn respect for myself again through my coaching work.
...There was a lot in Mostepanova's life. There was the magnificent victory at the competition in 1984 in Olomouc. They said about her that she was a gymnast with uniquely beautiful lines. "Of course," Olga answered. "After all, Aksyonov himself trained me. And all of his girls are beautiful. Remember Elvira Saadi. The Queen!"
...There was something else. It started when Elena Shushunova, strong and sharp, shone on the platform. Mostepanova began to lose. "It's my fault. Vladimir Filippovich always preached beauty in gymnastics. I got too carried away by choreography and forgot about special physical training."
Before that, there was a whole series of ilnesses and injuries, due to which Olga could not train for almost a year. She had barely returned from Olomouc when she fell ill and spent two and a half months in bed. Then she injured ligaments in her ankle. As soon as she recovered, she injured the same ankle again. But despite everything, in 1985 she managed to get into the team representing the country at the world championships in Montreal. And there...
To this day, Mostepanova does not like to talk about what happened in Montreal. Sometimes she looks inside herself for the reason for the insult, sometimes she is inclined to think that the coaches were unfair. But it was after that competition that she somehow quietly left the big stage.
This is what happened. On the first two days of the competition, Olga Mostepanova and Irina Baraksanova performed in the compulsory and optional programs. Unexpectedly for everyone, their places in the all-around final were taken by Elena Shushunova and Oksana Omelyanchik, and Olga and Irina were "in reserve." The team won. The substitution was gossiped about in gymnastics circles and forgotten. But the resentment remained.
"It's hard to talk about it. The replacement was probably justified. After all, in the individual standings we were behind the Romanian Ecaterina Szabo. Even though we were separated by literally thousandths, she was in the lead, not us. But could they have announced the replacement not on the day of the final? We are people too!"
"And so Ira and I consoled each other. I just sang all day, and she kept trying to find some kind of explanation and support me. But what's the point of talking about it now - it's in the past..."
Are you mad at gymnastics?
What does gymnastics have to do with it? It's a question of human relationships. I love gymnastics. Even now, in the evening, when there's no one in the gym, I sometimes warm up. I can't live without it. I've learned a lesson for myself - I will never do that with my students."
Probably, to understand a person, you need to see how he communicates with children. I sat almost silently through the entire training session with Mostepanova's group and...fell in love with her. How can you not fall in love with a coach who find such words for the mother of a child who has just been brought for an audition so that she is not offended, and she understands that "not suitable" does not mean "no talent," and left after such a difficult conversation with bright eyes: 'Thank you, Olga Vasilievna!' How can you not fall in love with a person who, despite being exhausted and dealing with overly active students, not only never raised her voice, but also hugged each girl?
What is the most difficult thing about your profession?
Patience. The girls are different - some grasp everything instantly, others - no matter how much you explain do not understand anything. But everyone needs to be taught. When I work with them, I constantly encounter situations like in that joke - I explained and explained, I understood everything myself, but they didn't get it at all. Where can I find the words and patience to make everyone understand?
...The little girl stood at attention and froze for a split second, in front of the platform. Years will pass, and something of the amazing, ringing beauty of Natalia Kuchinskaya, of the spontaneity of Olga Korbut, of the concentration of Ludmila Turischeva, of the all-pervading tenderness of Olga Mostepanova will appear in her.
N. KALUGINA