Customer Reviews

Chalked Up: Inside Elite Gymnastics' Merciless Coaching, Overzealous Parents, Eating Disorders, and Elusive Olympic Dreams

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Like Jenn and Betty who have already posted their reviews, I was a Parkette with Jen Sey from 1985-1987. Before Jenn and I moved in with J. Sey, we lived with some other girls in Jessica's (who has also posted) parent's house (who took in boarders living away from home). Jessica was already in college by the time I got there in 1985.

I can tell you from first hand experience that what we ate was monitered and sometimes reported to the Strausses. The only thing we were allowed to have without asking was water. It was just the way it was and we all accepted it because like Jen, we all wanted to be champions. The things that Jessica claims are outright lies happened after she had left. She claims to have talked to 20 girls who trained with us during that time but she certainly hasn't talked to me (or Jen, Tracy, Betty, etc).

In her review and her comments on NPR (which seemed pretty scripted to me), Jessica gets very caught up on specific examples Jen gives (like Mr. Strauss throwing a chair "AT" a gymnast). I mean, what are you saying Jess, that he did throw a chair, but just in her general direction...so it wasn't that big of a deal? Also, the announcement over the loudspeaker about a young gymnast's 2 lb weight gain and telling her she's going to look like her obese mother if she wasn't careful. Come on...those of us who were there remember how much grief she used to get about her parents size.

What I don't get, as one reviewer said above, is why all the outrage? This is Jen's story. Many of us lived it right along side with her (although it's fascinating how much we actually isloated ourselves from each other during that time...even though we were all living together and going through the same stuff). I think those who are taking such umbrage to the book are missing the bigger picture. Nobody who was there during that time can possibly refute the fact that there was an extremely unhealthy emphasis on our weight. The only nutritional guidance we ever received was to eat less. All of us were terrified of the weigh-in (I remember being one of the many girls spitting in the sink, taking their bras and barretts off and actually trying to cry to loose water weight in the locker room before we got weighed). We WERE berated and shamed about our weight...that is a fact.

I think the message in Jen's book is pretty clear. All of us who were there CHOSE to be there. Chose to accept the good and the bad that came with being a Parkette during that time period. The questions she raises, in telling her story, about the role of coaches and parents are important to think about. We were willing to make the sacrifices because we wanted to succeed. Since I was living away from home my parents only knew what I chose to tell them...which wasn't very much. If I had told them some of the things that went on, I wonder what they would have done. Would they have yanked me out of there kicking and screaming? That's what I was afraid of and that's why I never told them. Could the adults in our lives (both coaches and parents) have done better...yes.

Finally, Jen has not contradicted herself in interviews. She has always maintained that this is her story and not meant to be an indictment of the sport itself. Her facts are fine...I was there, I remember. Jen, I'm proud of you...it had to a difficult story to put down on paper. And Jessica, if you, and any other of the twenty former Parkettes you mention, want to tell "your" story...write your own damn book!

I didn't get into gymnastics until 1996, so I was unfamiliar with Jennifer Sey until I read this book. After reading it, however, I felt like I could really empathize with her, as well as her family and teammates (it was harder to empathize with the coaches, I admit). On the surface, it may seem like this book is a scandalous expose, and I have no doubt that many people will read it as such. But to me, it was a coming-of-age story about a girl who got swept up in a subculture that, unfortunately, tends to lead to disordered thinking about pressure, body image, injury, and "normal" life.

Jennifer Sey does a great job in this book of explaining all the factors that led to her success in gymnastics, as well as her ultimate downfall -- the need for achievement, need to please, competitiveness, and perfectionism. She's fair when it comes to explaining her parents' or coaches' roles, while at the same time taking responsibility for what was her dream.

For me, this was an incredibly thought-provoking book. Not only is it an interesting subject, but the prose is fluid and powerful, helping the reader get into the mindset of an elite gymnast who is training on a broken ankle, competing on the world stage, and lost in a lonely world where being a gymnast is her only identity.

This book is about gymnastics on the surface, but really it has a lot more depth. It's about a relationship of a daughter with her mother, and the sacrifices a parent will make for her child's dream -- even long after the daughter stops wanting it. It's about a child's need to find something that defines her, even if it swallows her whole. It's about the choices we must make when something that we're good at or used to enjoy stops being fun, or stops being a place where we can shine. It's about a woman struggling to become comfortable in her own skin after her body and her mind force her out of the only identity she's known.

This was a beautiful, moving book. I would recommend it to anyone.

I was a gymnast of the 1980s at SCATS in Huntington Beach, CA (then west coast rivals of Parkettes), under the direction of Don Peters. As Class I gymnasts (today's Level 10s) our workouts were combined with the confirmed Elite level athletes, many who were national team members with Jennifer. I was eager to read her book because she was someone I hadn't met but had heard about through the slumber party stories and post-meet adventure chatter at the gym.

It wasn't the tell-all I was expecting, it felt very much like my own story minus the part where I win the 1986 National Championships. I was embarrassed to read her account of Peters giving the "fat speech" before the World Championships-- I thought those speeches were reserved for the members of our private gym where we had daily weight checks. We protected our bulemic and anorexic girls, covered weight gains with really good stories. I even took the fall for one high ranking gymnast's binge and purge weekend when food went missing, rather than out her. I was shocked to read about the chair being thrown at a gymnast-- I thought only our coaches threw tantrums and objects. It felt "good" to hear that I wasn't the only one who had foul language directed at me in the gym. I have a strange sense of peace knowing that we weren't alone. I hear thanks to my injuries I was one of the most expensive gymnasts at SCATS in my time. And it's thanks to those injuries I burned out before I could earn even a bottom of the barrel college scholarship. Where's my: I did my best in gymnastics for 10 years and all I got was a rib removed, a broken foot, a reconstructed ankle, and a broken wrist!" t-shirt?

To the people taking issue with Jennifer's account I say if your experience was different, it was just that: different. Sometimes we feel it necessary to call the dissenter a liar to protect ourselves or correct it with our own version of what we believed happened. 1980s gymnastics was crazy and it's thanks to the gymnasts of that era it is much improved.

To my friend Jen, thank you.

Thank you Jennifer Sey for finally saying what all of us knew but wouldn't say. The book doesn't lie. I was an Elite gymnast in the 80's and I know this book is true. I lived with my coach away from home and trained with some of the top Elites and Olympians in the country. I experienced the abuse (the word I would use for it) depicted in the book on a regular basis and witnessed many other girls experiencing the same. I did know that coaches threw things - mine did. I did know that coaches were verbally and physically abusive - mine was. I did know that some men who had never participated in the sport took up coaching to prey on young girls, trying to gain a sense of purpose and power - mine did. I did know that girls were told to lose weight by any means possible - and did. I also knew that nobody in my circle was aware enough, brave enough or cared enough to say it needed to stop. If the system was questioned, it was done in whispers, so as not to upset any possibility of reaching the ultimate goal...winning.

When I read the book description, I thought it might be an interesting read. What it ended up being was a no-holds-barred, cathartic journey, providing me with insight that no therapist could ever match. Sey's unabashedly raw and honest writing ripped open old wounds and gave a picture of what it looks like to heal. It takes truth to heal. Because she allows herself to be vulnerable yet still maintain the strength to write the actuality of what happened, we get a complete picture of her journey. I started crying in empathy when I read about the pain and anguish, and I ended weeping with the beauty of it all: the beauty of her life, her husband, her two boys, her career, her mended relationship with her parents. Those things only came about through the process of truth.

I was ready for this book. I am forty-four years old. While reading Chalked Up, I reached back into the depths of what drove me as a child and compared that to what drives me now as a woman, thirty years later. I am glad Jennifer Sey was that great a gymnast and did work that insanely hard because it gives her the extra clout needed to tell this story. Clearly, it takes the kind of passion, skill, brains and balls that got her ahead in gymnastics to write books like this one. Please keep them coming. I will be looking for them.

I found this to be an incredibly honest look at one gymnasts experience within the world of elite gymnastics. She took responsibility for her own drive, her feelings, her shortcomings, her life. Where some may say she is mean spirited and finger pointing, I think that Jen Sey told HER story in her own words. It is what it is. People need to stop trying to make into something it was never intended to be. It's not an expose, or an attempt to shame the world of gymnastics. It's just brutally honest. It's a wonderfully written story of determination and heartache. Jen Sey is human, as are her parents and teammates and coaches. We all have dark and ugly moments. Jen was more than honest about her own.

Of course this book is going to cause a massive uproar in the world of gymnastics. There is an unspoken pact amongst gymnasts and coaches to keep these shameful little secrets in the dark. Anytime anyone dares to shed some light on the truth, cries of "LIAR" ring out...or more condescendingly "Oh she is known to exaggerate". It's pretty typical. The negative review of this book from Jen Sey's own teammate is a classic example of a secrecy that rivals that of the mafia! Coaches do not to be limited in their arsenal of "motivational" techniques. They may not throw chairs at their gymnasts or publicly berate them, but they want option if need be. They don't want parents to get wise to the ways of the highest level of this sport. It's not profitable. Sad but true.

I can say this without malice b/c I was also involved in elite gymnastics. My coaches weren't as bad as the notoriously harsh Parkette's coaches, but they weren't much better either. There ARE doctors out there who are willing to put the "investment" in the injured athlete before the gymnast. There ARE coaches who use humiliation and mental mind games to shape and control their gymnasts. It happens. It's real.

Instead of calling Jen a liar, I would suggest that people really allow themselves to accept the truth of her story. It's not EVERYBODY'S story. It's Jen's...and sadly a lot of others. Nobody is harder on a gymnast than she is on herself. It took a lot of courage for Jen Sey to write this memoir. It took the courage of a gymnast!

Well done Jen. Healing is a lifelong process for all of us. This was a great step in that process and undoubtedly will help others. I know it has and continues to help me!

I am the least competitive person I know, although as a child my parents stressed academics to a degree I now think unhealthy. I always wondered, though, whether I could have achieved more as a musician if they had pressured me more and been willing to spend the necessary money and time.

This book has cured me of pondering the past and what could have been! Jennifer Sey is one damaged woman. Even now that she is reflecting on her participation in a competitive sport -- in all its glory and its ugliness -- she reveals deep wounds that haven't healed.

I won't print any spoilers, but will just say that her actions (one in particular) and her thoughts as an adult reveal that she hasn't made peace with her past. I wonder whether it is even possible. At the close of the book, she admits wanting to be the best parent there is. Her competitive drive has simply found a new target. And I can assure her, as one who is in the parenting years, that she will be thwarted in this endeavor as well.

It is eye-opening to read about the training that goes into producing a national gymnastics champion (though there is far too much detail that the casual reader can skip). And I can sympathize with how gradually, step by small step, a child (and a parent) is sucked in. I've been to enough baseball games and clinics to get caught up in the madness myself! I would like to give this book to a friend who is pushing her children through elite gymnastics and soccer programs, but I know she would not even consider backing out now. They are all too invested in success.

I wish the author could stop being so hard on herself. It's clear that injuries ended her career at the same time that she ran out of enthusiasm for it. She should not spend her life feeling like a quitter. But for her one shining moment in the sun, was it all worth it? That is the sad question I'm not sure the author has answered for herself. I hope time and reflection eventually bring her peace.

A memoir from a gymnast's point of view is long overdue in the oftentimes tedious litany of cautionary tales about high-level gymnastics. Written by an athlete, not a journalist, Jennifer Sey's Chalked Up finally fills this void. She painstakingly renders her unlikely rise to gymnastics superstardom and subsequent fall into depression and obscurity. Her story is brave, honest, and raw at times. Readers who are former gymnasts likely will have a strong emotional reaction (one way or the other) to this work; her straightforward prose becomes an open doorway to experiences, sounds, smells, and pains long forgotten. As a second unique and long overdue contribution, Sey offers us a gymnast's perspective, not during her career or immediately following, but twenty years later, as she still struggles to figure out how her former life as a gymnast meshes with her current identity as a professional woman, wife, and mother of two children.

As a former elite gymnast who is now a sociologist, I am intrigued by the fervent debates this book has sparked in the gymnastics community. It is unclear how much of Sey's overall discontent with her memories of elite gymnastics can be generalized to other contexts- to other individuals' experiences, to elite gymnastics today (a lot has changed since the 1980s, as Sey herself points out), and to other varieties of elite sport or child accomplishment. What is clear is that, whether or not you agree with her rendition of what happened, Sey is definitely not over it. Her work raises important questions about the longer term effects of elite sport on self and identity, and about how the costs (and benefits) of an intensely athletic childhood play out over the life course.

I was drawn to Jennifer Sey's book because, like many young women, I was - and still am - enamored with women's gymnastics. What kept me from putting the book down was Ms. Sey's self-awareness and honesty as she painted what was, for her, the perfect storm of a childhood: an extremely driven and perfectionistic child, extremely self-sacrificing parents that wanted to support their daughter's dream - to the extreme, an extreme sport where emotionally and physically immature girls contort their bodies performing extremely difficult routines and extreme coaches that use passive-aggressive techniques and manipulation to draw the champion out of a prepubescent girl. At no point in Sey's memoir did I read her experience as the norm in women's gymnastics - just the rare and brutal extreme.

Of the four elements that came together: child, parents, sport, coaches - each one brought the "win above all else" attitude to the mix to create a recipe for disaster. Had even one of those elements been taken down a notch, maybe had more of a "as long as you're having fun" motto, Sey's experience would have been different. I know this because I had three of the extremes in place but the fourth - my parents - recognized the storm brewing and quickly changed the course of the ship.

Like Sey, I was seeking perfection in everything I did - if I wasn't the number one student, front and center at the recital, the fastest runner, your BEST friend - I was a loser. If you were off cue during a performance, I would push you out of my way. When all the neighbor kids were stuffing their faces with candy on Halloween, I was separating, counting and graphing my stash and comparing the findings to last year's data. I had started gymnastics at eight years-old and by 10, I was one week into classes four days-a-week when my parents pulled the plug on gymnastics. I don't have any memory of my parents saying we wouldn't go to the gym anymore so I can only assume when they said so it must have been a relief.

I can remember my mom comforting me as I cried myself to sleep - worried that my teacher would hate me because I got one wrong on a test. I remember my parents always telling me to relax, not to worry, you're taking it too seriously. Maybe seeing my behavior juxtaposed with my sister's (18 mos. younger) highlighted to my parents that I needed to be monitored - make sure I didn't get into anything to the extreme. They, like many other parents at the gym, were told I was "the next Mary Lou Retton." The coaches knew I was highly competitive and would coax me into attempting new stunts with a seemingly innocent "come on, you're not going to let Tara show you up, are you?"

Maybe I wasn't as good as Sey at hiding my behavior from my parents? Maybe having a sister close in age made my behavior stand out as unhealthy? Maybe my parents weren't willing to pass up dinner at the table with family? Even for those who did not compete in the sport of gymnastics or have a child that does, Sey's book is a beautiful and engaging memoir sure to leave you with the desire to make sure your child has a healthy relationship with sports.

Jennifer Sey earned gymnastics' individual National Championship in 1986 culminating years of hard work, endless sacrifice by her family and injury and self deprivation. Chalked Up, Inside Elite Gymnastics' Merciless Coaching, Overzealous Parents, Eating Disorders, and Elusive Olympic Dreams is an insider's view of the world the whole Sey family inhabited during those years of striving. It is also a confirmation of many of competitive gymnastics' dirty little secrets...the eating disorders, the relentless pressures, coaches with suspect motives, the abdication of parental control and the win at all cost mentality. The Seys could have been any upward striving family and when Jennifer showed an affinity for gymnastics they were caught up in her possibilities. I doubt any of them realized the costs both monetary and emotional. We are privy to Sey's almost constant struggles with her body, her coaches, her family, her fears and injuries. She is very up front about her constant striving to obtain perfection and dominate her sport. She is also very open about the way she used her sport as a shield from other aspects of growing up. She writes with a real sadness about the realization of the costs to her parents' marriage, her mother's self esteem, her brother's own path. What makes this book so fascinating is although Sey acknowledges her path wasn't healthy and left lasting damage....this reader suspects she wouldn't vary if given the chance to redo those years again.

Jennifer Sey is telling her story. She is not preaching nor is she telling you to remove your child from the sport of gymnastics. Although a painful side of gymnastics, which so many of us are scared to acknowledge, it is a reality in the elite world of gymnastics. Twenty two years after winning the national title, a crown that all elite gymnasts dream of, Sey still struggles with a love/hate gymnastics relationship. Before judging Sey, stating that your gymnast is perfectly happy in the gym and that this book is false, it's important to note that this book documents ELITE gymnastics, a very different world than that of your level six gymnast.

As a former gymnast, coach, and avid fan, I can confidently tell you that the experiences that Jennifer Sey discusses continue today. I believe that education has positively influenced a majority of US coaches, however, it is important to recognize that a number of the unethical training methods used in the 80's have not been eliminated. Parkettes Gymnastics, owned by Donna and Bill Strauss continue to run their elite program, mirroring a concentration camp (with the exception of the gas chambers). The experiences of Jennifer Sey are not isolated, as thousands of gymnasts over the past 20 years share similar stories. I feel confident in guessing that a majority of those gymnasts come from Allentown, PA. And don't be so naive to imagine that sex scandals between gymnast and coach were only a trend of the 80's.

A must read for die hard gymnastics fans. The casual fan must read with the understanding that Sey is not suggesting that her experiences takes place in all gyms, at all levels, to all gymnasts. Allow Sey to share her story with you.