It may seem that gymnast Simone Biles can’t win. On Tuesday morning — Monday night in Tokyo — Biles bowed out of the team competition after an uncharacteristic blunder on her first event, the vault. Shortly thereafter she acknowledged that the stress had gotten the better of her and she felt mentally unfit to continue. The rest of the game U.S. gymnastics team soldiered on, but were bested for the gold medal by a superior Russian squad.
As we all know now, Biles also withdrew from the individual all-around event, in which she was the prohibitive favorite. Her gutsy teammate, Sunisa Lee, stepped up to the challenge and earned the gold medal.
Monday night quarterbacks had an immediate field day. Biles was selfish. She was brave. She let the team down. She uplifted the world with her honesty.
She can’t win.
Had she competed in the individual all-around, she wouldn’t have won even by winning. Critics would have asked, “Why did she cop out when it was the team competition but magically recover for personal glory?” Biles did herself no favor at a news conference by saying, “This Olympic Games, I wanted it to be for myself.” That will be misconstrued by critics, but the context was not Biles against the team and for herself. It was Biles against the unimaginable pressure of performing for everyone and everything else. She wanted to feel the love of sport that has animated her life.
I know and appreciate the many arguments against the Olympic Games. Overhyped — yes. Commercialized — yes. Unbearably stressful to be sure. The stories of the sexual and psychological abuse of athletes are horrifying. Just this week, new allegations emerged about Alberto Salazar, a demanding — abusive — coach of many of the world’s great runners. As a runner, Salazar even abused himself, approaching self-inflicted death in service of victory. No surprise that he thought his charges should be similarly sacrificial.
But for this aged, sub-elite athlete, the positives still outweigh the criticisms. Amid the complexities of our human existence there remains a purity of the quest for achievement. Competition creates the toxic elements seen in the Olympics, but also allows moments of exquisite beauty, exceptional bravery and deep disappointment. Humans approach the limits of physical possibility and then stretch them beyond the imaginable. Simone Biles has stretched the limits more profoundly than nearly any athlete, in any discipline, in history.
And, while guarding against sentimental hype, the quadrennial gathering of athletes from around the world gives glimpses of human connection across political, geographic and ideological boundaries.
What Biles did on Monday night was not selfish. It was a demonstration of her commitment to the team. She knew the stress made her a liability and she stepped aside with grace and courage. Inarguably the greatest gymnast of all time, she didn’t retreat from the glare of the incessant spotlight. She put on her sweats and cheered, cajoled and comforted her teammates. She didn’t shrink from the obligation to face the cameras and tell the truth — she is human and this one time the accumulated expectations overwhelmed her.
I think she — and we — saw it coming.
Even in the Olympic trials she fell slightly short of her Olympian reputation. During the earlier qualifying round, she stumbled uncharacteristically. There is no athlete or performer of any kind who is impervious to the insidious doubt that creeps in when the routinely flawless execution of the near-impossible is marred with a few wrinkles. The great violinist Yehudi Menuhin played with unmatched virtuosity as a young man and then self-doubt crept in. He thereafter enjoyed a long career as an admired conductor and musician, but never approached the technical level he reached as a teenager. Menuhin’s middle-aged technical struggles, with small flashes of his former brilliance, were admirable.
As I write I have no idea how this will turn out. The Hollywood ending has Biles returning to glory, winning gold in the apparatus finals. She may also decline to compete at all, giving armchair quarterbacks fresh fodder.
Or she may take the Menuhin route, doing her high-wire act one last time, the hell with mistakes. Facing the unexpected adversity and going out with a gracious smile, win or lose, would be among the greatest days of an unmatchable career.
When all is said and done, Simone Biles can’t lose.
Steve Nelson lives in Boulder, Colo. He can be reached at stevehutnelson@gmail.com.