North Greenwich Arena, London, England
It was as if Aly watched it in slow motion. The launch from the vault table, every twist as she was suspended in the air, her face scrunched up in concentration, and two tiny feet landing on the mat, effortlessly, like a bolt of lightning.
Mckayla's arms flew up in the air, and so did Aly's and screams erupted from her throat and her body hurled itself towards a Mckayla who's giddiness shook her whole form. As Mckayla's coach intercepted her first, and lowered her onto the floor, it was only seconds before she nearly knocked the wind out of Aly and the mile wide grin seemed like it would be stuck there forever.
Mckayla jumped up and down in Aly's embrace as Aly held her tighter than she probably should have on world television, but she didn't care. She had just witnessed Mckayla perform a historic feat, a near perfect Amanar vault, better than she had ever done. She saw it, she was here, with her, in this moment, feeling Mckayla's arms strangle her neck from the whirlwind of emotions Aly knew where battling inside of her.
She'd performed the most amazing work of gymnastics she'd ever done in her life, on the world stage, and she ran straight to Aly. Aly had never felt more selflessly proud and elated in her entire life. In a sport where you're trained to focus only on yourself, this threw Aly for a loop. A dizzying, heart-swelling loop.
She was attacked by the rest of the team. Aly let herself wobble over to the side, spewing meaningless words of encouragement to the team, while trying to quell the urge to squeal and jump up and down.
Aly couldn't be too far, she hovered near her. Aly loved her more in this moment as she rocked her body back and forth uncontrollably and beamed in a way that she imagined was almost post-coital. Stop that, not here.
Aly realized that she was grinning stupidly and nodding at her, just nodding. Mckayla caught her eye, and giggled, flashing her a smile that was half pride and half disbelief. Wait, no, it couldn't be disbelief. Mckayla was the most confidant person Aly knew; she'd never doubted herself, even when it came to playing poker at the ranch and she had an awful hand, she always went all in convinced she was the best. She laughed to herself at the memory, and went to sit with Mckayla as they awaited her score.
Both girls looking ahead nervously, Aly bumped her elbow against Mckayla's lightly. She whipped her head around, clearly on edge, and met Aly's warm gaze. Aly didn't say anything, she couldn't think of anything constructive to say, so she reached the few inches over and squeezed Mckayla's hand that had built up a considerable layer of sweat on it. It was quick, in case the cameras caught them, and ballsy. Mckayla's eyes widened but when she looked down, Aly hand returned her hand to her lap.
The two craned their necks to see the score appear on the large screen hanging in the center of the arena. A virtually unattainable 16.223 flashes on the screen and, while unjust to the display of perfection they'd all witnessed, it was triumphant by leaps and bounds and put the team at a huge advantage.
Mckayla smiled with her tongue between her teeth and Aly shook her head, barely able to contain her own teeth bursting from behind her lips.
"Told 'ya," Aly said.
As Aly stood on the plush mat, the softest she'd ever set foot on, and waited for the music to start, her body was numb. It had all come down to her, it was her that could solidify or fuck up their chance at doing what not even Nastia, Shawn, and Alicia could do.
As her nerves regained their functions, she was scared shitless, her stocky and sturdy frame quivering on the inside like a little chihuahua. Aly Raisman can't get scared, she's the captain. She's the rock. She didn't feel like it though. Not now, not when everything came down to her, Reliable Raisman. Consistent. Dependable. Clutch.
