Athlete A

Athlete A

Known as “Athlete A” after the anonymous initial complainant, this gymnast led to the disclosure of Larry Nassar’s abuse. The documentary shows that USA Gymnastics’ toxic culture was built around protecting their brand at all costs. In fact, the same selection and training process that made champions also left them susceptible to being abused.

After making them believe they were special, coaches would move these young women away from their families to a remote facility in Texas where they were berated for anything less than perfection by staff who could be downright brutal even slapping athletes if they didn’t measure up physically or emotionally. The girls’ voices were silenced when trying to speak out; ignored entirely or hushed up with non-disclosure agreements while fearing that asking questions might jeopardize their chances of making an Olympic team.

The “aesthetic” of female gymnastics changed and so did USA Gymnastics after 14-year old Nadia Comaneci scored a perfect 10 at the 1976 Olympics. Before then, women on teams were adults just like men on teams (who averaged early 20s). But now elite level female gymnasts tend to be pre-pubescent: Simone Biles, America’s most decorated gymnast with 19 world championships titles, is only 4-foot 8; all five members of the Gold Medal-winning U.S. Team known as the Fierce Five in 2012 ranged between ages 15 and 18 (and three of them are among more than 500 former patients sexually abused by Nassar).

Around this same time there was another shift within USAG or any organization when it smells money in focus from adult women to strong but cute little girls. Steve Penny had been hired as head marketer for US Gymnastics before becoming its CEO; his priority became sponsors and the “brand.”

Child sexual abuse is bad for business and worse for sponsors, so Penny did not report complaints against Nassar to law enforcement as he was required to do by law; he also lied about doing so while reassuring Maggie Nichols’ parents that he had everything under control and warning them that any public disclosure could endanger the FBI’s ongoing investigation. They believed him. Her father admits they said nothing because they didn’t want Penny to keep her off the Olympic team.

We know how this story ends: We all saw Judge Rosemarie Aquilina give hundreds of Nassar’s victims a chance to speak their truth in open court before she sent him away for life. Directors Bonni Cohen and Jon Shenk let us hear from some of those survivors, as well as the reporters at The Indianapolis Star who broke this horrific tale wide open.

But they also want us to see more than just monsters and heroes because no predator gets 29 years without help from somewhere. Cohen and Shenk show us how an environment can become almost cult-like once you start separating young girls from their parents, teachers and friends while constantly measuring their bodies against arbitrary standards and demanding absolute obedience under threat of not only physical harm but social isolation; where excellence is more important than health or happiness but only if it looks good on TV.

The three moments that impacted me the most were images I had seen before, but this time around, after watching the film’s careful and utterly convincing context building exercise, I was left with a new understanding of them. The first one is from the 1996 Olympics Kerri Strug wins gold for Team USA with an incredible vault landing on her feet despite having a severe injury, almost perfectly executed. It wasn’t just one of the highlights of that year’s games or any other sporting event; it was universally hailed as such and lauded as an act of bravery and dedication she was called “the ultimate competitor.”

When I saw it again, narrated by Jennifer Sey (author of Chalked Up) who also happened to be an elite gymnast herself, it no longer looked like courage or dedication all I could see was a young woman in excruciating pain while Karolyi didn’t even bother checking up on her but merely shouted out, “You can do it!”

The second moment flashed past so quickly you may have missed it: there’s a sign that says “Women’s Gymnastics.” It’s easy to forget just how young these athletes are. And lastly: McKayla Maroney not looking pleased after receiving her silver medal at the 2016 Olympics. At the time, everyone found this hilarious even then President Obama did his famous impersonation where he pouted like McKayla did in all those photos.

But knowing now that she had been abused by Nassar hundreds upon hundreds more times than anyone else had ever known about (including during their very first encounter), you can’t help but wonder if maybe there was something more behind that scowl than just being upset about coming in second.

Karolyi-style training under Cohen and Shenk (who are also responsible for directing/producing this docuseries) was designed to keep girls quiet and compliant by keeping them physically strong through emotional uncertainty. When they were with the Karolyis, these girls had no parents, teachers or friends of their own; the Karolyis were everything to them and they knew it. Follow orders is what they were taught to do from Day 1 until last day ever.

On a daily basis, each athlete would be weighed in front of everyone else by none other than Mrs. K herself, and if she gained any weight at all? “Pig” was the label given to her by Mrs. K. And let’s not forget that Nassar used candy bars as one part of his overall strategy for gaining trust among those young athletes.

“One former gymnast said that ‘the line between tough coaching and abuse gets blurred.’” Is this really what it takes to win Olympic gold? And at what cost?

Watch Athlete A For Free On Gomovies.