In the quiet hours of the morning, the loge boxes and VIP seats at the Bercy Arena remain unoccupied. The allure of a leisurely breakfast of croissants and champagne is too enticing, overshadowing the early performances of lesser-known gymnasts. As the second subdivision approaches, the lounges and executive suites begin to empty. Attendees, pursued by the flashing red dots of countless phone cameras, make their way down the steps to their seats.
Among the distinguished guests are Tom Cruise, Snoop Dogg, Ariana Grande, and Cynthia Erivo. John Legend and Chrissy Teigen are present, as well as Greta Gerwig, Jessica Chastain, and the Jonas Brothers. Anna Wintour, a frequent face at prominent sporting events, also makes an appearance, her stern expression giving the impression of a reluctant attendee at a family function.
These celebrities are not in attendance to witness Kaylia Nemour of Algeria execute a remarkably difficult routine, positioning herself as a gold-medal contender on the uneven bars. Nor are they here for the Becky Downie comeback tour, if they are even aware of it. The Olympic gymnastics qualification event has been transformed into a fixture on Paris’s bustling social calendar: a weekend that includes watching Nadal and Alcaraz, followed by Biles, and capped with an afternoon drinks reception. They are here to see the spectacle of “Ready For It? (Simone’s Version).” Let the Games begin.
Meanwhile, two stories below in the arena, the greatest gymnast in history, Simone Biles, is in deep discussion with her coaches and medical staff. They focus on her left calf and ankle, thickly wrapped in strapping. A camera operator hovers nearby, capturing snippets of her conversation. Biles expresses her pain candidly, describing a sensation akin to a tear and noting how much it hurts to push off. Between rotations, she alternates between limping, sitting, grimacing, and smiling, embodying the tension between the Simone everyone expects and the Simone she feels she is
Biles has already delivered a stellar performance two disciplines in, giving the audience everything they came for: a grand entrance and a dazzling beam routine, featuring a double somersault dismount with a double twist—a move many gymnasts struggle to perform even on the floor. As she prepares for the floor exercise, the most physically demanding of the four, there is palpable anxiety in the Team USA camp. Up in the stands, her former teammate Aly Raisman watches in silent prayer.
The memories of Tokyo loom large. The withdrawals, the relentless media circus, and the public struggle with mental health were all etched into public consciousness. A month after Tokyo, Biles testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee against the sexual abuser Larry Nassar. It took two years for her to return to competition, and despite the new tricks and skills, a fundamental change had occurred within her. No longer would she be confined by external pressures. If Rio was for glory and Tokyo for expectation, Paris is for her.
No external force drives Biles to compete. No executive, sponsor, or internet troll can match her self-motivation. During her groundbreaking floor routine, there is a moment when she raises her fist and slams it down—a powerful gesture of defiance and emancipation.
Biles executes the floor routine flawlessly, lands the Yurchenko double pike on the vault, follows it up with the straight somersault with 1½ twists, and advances to the all-around final, adding another entry to the all-time points list. Occasionally, she wobbles or takes an extra step to steady herself. Even her stumbles are graceful. Over the past decade, Biles has taught us to rethink our approach to star athletes, moving away from deification, which is also a form of dehumanization, and to stop demanding perfection and miracles as prerequisites for our admiration. Biles is perfect because she embraces imperfection.
The media circus will continue to swirl around her. Her image will continue to sell premium hospitality packages globally. Celebrities will come and go, eager to bask in her reflected glory, attaching themselves to her cultural capital. Yet, only Biles knows the true effort required to reach this point, the significance of being here. In the grand, commercial spectacle of big sport, she alone defines her power, her talent, her body, her story, and her rules.
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