Columnist Ron Kantowski: Never any shortcuts

Friday, July 30, 2004 | 10:55 a.m.

Ron Kantowski is a Las Vegas Sun sports writer. Reach him at ron@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4088.

She leaves for Greece today, via the obligatory layover at the Karolyi gymnastics compound in suburban Houston, knowing full well that her biggest contribution to the U.S. pursuit of Olympic gold in Athens may be shagging gyros for her teammates.

But if Las Vegas' Tasha Schwikert is crushed about being relegated to the role of Olympic squad alternate in what almost certainly will be her final appearance as an elite gymnast, you sure couldn't tell.

During a Wednesday workout at Henderson Gymcats, her home away from home since she was 7 years old, Schwikert, 19, appeared totally at ease. She was smiling and laughing and joking, carrying on with a reporter, her sister Jordan and even her coach Cassie Rice, with whom, both agree, she doesn't always see eye-to-eye.

She weighed in on diverse topics such as why the senior prom is overrated (costs too much), the merits of my generation's music (Barry White, which was playing on the boom box) compared to hers (sorry, I haven't watched MTV since the Martha Quinn days) and a particular guy she and her sister think is cute (I'm sworn to secrecy).

Of course, this was only the first hour of her workout. There still were about five more to go.

In the world of elite gymnastics, there are no shortcuts. Not even for alternates.

When Schwikert was asked if she was looking forward to heading off to Athens, she was, as ever, delightfully honest.

"No," she said, prefacing her remark, as she would most during our interview, with a wry chuckle. "I like hanging out with my friends and family. But I'll go do what I have to go do."

Being an Olympic alternate isn't like being a baseball pitcher on a day he's not scheduled to pitch. It's not like Schwikert will be able to drop what she's doing, put a camera around her neck and head off for the Acropolis.

"I think we're going to get a couple of days to go around and see stuff," she said. "I mean, I guess it's a vacation, but we'll be training hard.

"At least now I know what things can happen and how being an alternate really is important."

She knows all this, because she went through this very scenario four years ago, when as a precocious 15-year-old she was selected as an alternate to the Sydney team.

Sure enough, when Morgan White was injured in training, Schwikert was called up to the varsity, and her solid performance under pressure helped the U.S. women to a respectable fourth-place finish.

Chances of that happening again are pretty slim, as Rice says the U.S has learned its lesson from Sydney and has scaled back the intensity of the pre-Olympic workouts. So unless somebody slips on a banana peel or trips over a cable from the intrusive NBC cameras, chances are Schwikert won't get out of her warm-ups this time.

"You're pretty much thinking you're not going to be competing so it's not as stressful," Rice said. "So your focus is on the team and your Olympic experience. It just doesn't feel as pressure filled. You feel the same excitement, because you're going to Greece, and you're part of the whole process. But ... once the preliminaries start, we can be tourists."

There was a time, not very long ago, when it appeared Schwikert would become a Byzantine icon, and you could argue that she already was our country's biggest gym dandy in both 2001 and 2002, when she was the USA all-around champion.

Unfortunately, those were non-Olympic years. So was 2003, when Schwikert, as captain, rallied an injury-riddled USA team to its first-ever world championship on home soil at the Arrowhead Pond.

"We thought (winning) the worlds would be the same as the Olympics," Rice said. "But it was nothing. Even though it's the equivalent when you win the title it doesn't mean anything (to the outside world)."

After all, they don't put world champions on the Wheaties box. That space is reserved for Olympic champions. Sometimes.

As Rice said, there has to be a compelling story or performer who does something neat and wonderful when the TV cameras are rolling, which at these Olympics, will be all the time.

"I think if this U.S. team goes in and wins the gold medal and there's no super story it's gonna be like, 'yeah, they were the best in '03 and we expected it,' " Rice said. "So you're not going to be famous unless you're Kerri Strug. Or Mary Lou Retton, who wasn't even that good a gymnast in '84, but she winds up sticking her vault, and it's not that good a vault when you look back at it now."

In other words, timing is everything in gymnastics. There's the kind you can control, such as flipping to and fro on the uneven bars, or moving with the grace of a swan during the floor exercise. And the kind you can't control, such as when you are born or when you are injured.

Take Schwikert's sibling. Jordan Schwikert was following in her sister's footsteps, heading for international acclaim, when she got some bum advice and aggravated a back injury that eventually required surgery and ended her elite career.

But the Schwikert sisters don't fret about what might have been. Never have. Never will.

"No," Tasha Schwikert said, "because that would be like regretting things and wishing for other things. I never think like that because that's a negative way of thinking to me. Besides, it worked out best for me at Sydney, because I barely made the cutoff."

Olympic gymnasts must be at least 16 or turn 16 in the year they compete, which enabled Schwikert, who was born on Nov. 21, to participate in the 2000 Games as a 15-year-old.

Had Schwikert not sustained serious ankle and Achilles injuries after winning her second U.S. all-around championship, her mom's biological clock probably would have been a moot point. Even another month in the gym might have given her enough time to perfect her routines and earn a spot on the six-member Olympic squad during the long and arduous selection process.

But, as noted, she'd be the last to complain.

"What are you going to do? You can't go back in time to change anything, so make the best of what you have," she said.

When it comes to regrets, Schwikert can't relate to Frank Sinatra. She doesn't have even a few.

"I believe in fate so no, I don't regret one thing," she said. "If it's a mistake, it teaches you a lesson, you know?

"I definitely realize the things I've accomplished and I've accomplished a lot in my career. But at the same time, life keeps moving, and I'm just excited about going forth and accomplishing things in college and life itself."

She smiled at the prospect of making up for semi-lost time spent in the gym, and laughed out loud when I suggested she could always be like Mohini Bhardwaj, who retired from elite gymnastics several years ago before going on to star at UCLA and then coming back as a 25-year-old to earn a spot on the Athens team.

"Uhhh ... no. I'm thinking no for right now," Schwikert said with one eye already fixed on UCLA, where a much lighter training schedule will allow her to study medicine or perhaps even TV journalism. "I just want to get on with my life and get a good job."

With that, Tasha Schwikert got up, walked over to the boom box, and changed the station.

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