This weekend my friend Tracey said to me that she felt that Nabievaās stoop Tkachev-Pak combination, performed on Saturday at the World Championships for the first time, was quite possibly the most revolutionary moment in gymnastics history since Korbut stood on the top rail of the asymmetric bars in Munich and premiered her unique loop.
Those of us of a certain age will remember Korbutās impact on the sport and the tidal wave of admiration and affection she evoked. Most speak of her amazing ability to communicate and perform, of the unique charm and charisma she projected through her floor routine, of the astounding back somersault on beam. But it was perhaps on bars where her genius shone most brightly. Here she was an amazing innovator and risk taker. The trajectory of that loop is still imprinted in my brain and I have a visual image of it as I speak to you now. Few have had the courage to attempt it since; Mukhina, of course, added a twist, but that was more than thirty years ago.
The loop added a different way of doing things; a large, flighty swoop that challenged the physical constraints of the apparatus and reached out into space in a way that had never been conceived before. It was like an earthquake resounding across the landscape of a previously rather polite sport that had emphasised grace and expression more than power and acrobatics. The loop represented a shift in the perception of the possible. It added dimensionality to the sport, created airtime, defined the large and spectacular. It was a new way of thinking about things, a revolution in gymnastics. And Korbut, then, was most definitely a revolutionary.
Korbut belonged to a tradition of Soviet pioneer ā artists, sportsmen and astronauts among them ā who characterised the spirit of grand adventure and heroic endeavour as represented in Soviet propaganda of the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. She also, still today, stands for something in gymnastics ā something wild and crazy that makes you ask: how is that possible? Itās implausible, impertinent, outrageous. Where does the courage come from? And as I watch Nabieva sky rocket above the high bar, standing vertical in nothing but (very thin) air and barely touching the apparatus as she flies from somersault to somersault, I get to thinking: Tracey is right: Nabieva is a revolutionary, too.
And I would like to christen this kind of gymnastics. I would like to name it Bolshoi Gymnastika, literally translated ābig gymnasticsā, but also named for the ballet company and the traditions behind it, large and spectacular, powerful and impressive. Now Bolshoi Gymnastika has been practiced by quite a few proponents over the years. I would say Produnovaās handspring double front was one example. Strazheva performed floor in a Bolshoi Gymnastika style, all angular and flighty. Shushunova was a Bolshoi gymnast, fearless innovator and fierce competitor. These gymnasts were all pioneers. (The men were Bolshoi gymnasts, too. Liukinās triple back on floor was a revolutionary moment, and so was Tkachevās flight on high bar.)
There is also Kirov Gymnastika ā lyrical, expressive, languid. Kirov Gymnastika lives today in the body, and spirit I hope, of Anna Dementieva. The movement includes such performers as Ilienko and Khorkina. I would like to suggest that all the best Russian and Soviet gymnasts can be placed along a spectrum of gymnastics from Kirov to Bolshoi; some share aspects of both. I have to consider these classifications in more depth as their characteristics inter-mingle across personality, physique, musical and gymnastic dimensions. It becomes complicated when you consider that there is also a folk tradition, as personified by Omelianchik and Lobaznyuk. It may be a question of developing diverse family trees of gymnastics to trace heritage and background of gymnastics, rather than the individual gymnasts. For now Iāll be content with the idea of a spectrum of gymnastics, from Bolshoi to Kirov.
I am going to add a box of video links to the key gymnastics mentioned in these posts.
I think you are being too broad with your application of the term revolutionary and seem to confuse risk taking with starting a revolution. A revolutionary is someone whose actions bring about widespread change. Korbut and her coach were certainly revolutionaries as their philosophy helped bring about the type of gymnastics we see today.
ReplyDeleteOn the other hand, I don't consider Liukin, as a gymnast, to be a revolutionary. A risk taker yes, but not a revolutionary. Certainly the triple back was a major accomplishment and when Liukin did that skill at Moscow News and later at Europeans, it certainly made people take notice. However, it did not change the way men's gymnastics and men's floor exercise was being performed. The composition of men's floor did not change as a result. For many years it was still hardest skill as mount, a combo second or third pass, some arabian or front tumbling skill as a third pass, and your next hardest skill as a dismount. Not to mention that Liukin himself wasn't the first gymnast to do this skill in competition. That honor goes to one Yuri Porplenko of Simferopol who performed it at the 1986 USSR National Championships. And the skill was being attempted as far back as the 70's with one gymnast from Ukraine even doing it in training in one of the national championships.
Back to Nabieva, I would classify her as a risk taker, improving upon a skill thought up by an American. As great as that skill is, I doubt it will cause gymnasts to abandon the endo and pirouette heavy compositions.