Jaycie's folks chase dream of gold, too

KNOXVILLE, Tenn. - The thing is, they've just gone along for the ride. They are stage parents who have allowed the production to come to them. Jack and Cheryl Phelps never intended for their daughter Jaycie to be a star. It just worked out that way.

Jaycie Phelps is a world class gymnast. Gymnastics is a sport given to zealous excess. Long hours of practice, sometimes far from home, for people barely old enough to tie their own shoes.

It's not just gymnastics. Youth sports are full of kids whose backs are imprinted with the palms of their parents' hands. Living vicariously through your children's successes is a trap for any of us.

Jaycie Phelps of Greenfield, Ind., and Cincinnati is a likely Olympian because that is what she wants.

Her parents have been propelled by events.

They are along for the ride.

Says Jack, ''I played baseball at Indiana State. Indiana State had a really good gymnastics team. We used to make fun of them. Look at those guys bouncing on the trampoline.''

Of offspring's hopes

It was Jaycie's decision, at the sage old age of 4, to drop her tap and ballet classes and concentrate on gymnastics. Her day care class visited a gym. The coaches picked her to help with a demonstration, after which one of them phoned the Phelps' home. ''Your little girl has natural talent,'' he said.

''Yeah. OK. Sure,'' Cheryl Phelps said. ''She's 4 years old.''

It was Jaycie who decided her first coaches weren't advanced enough to give her the instruction she needed. Then at age 11, she told her parents which elite coach she wanted to train with. The family moved to Arizona. Two years later, she told them it wasn't working out.

''She has led us through all this,'' Cheryl Phelps says.

Of the move to Phoenix, Cheryl says, ''I was scared to death. I'd always been a hometown girl. I went to college in Bloomington. We lived in Greenfield. Now, we're moving across the country?''

Jack Phelps drives a 1987 Oldsmobile with 192,000 miles on it. He lives in an apartment in Greenfield, with son, Dennis; Jaycie and Cheryl have an apartment in Cincinnati. ''We have stuff in boxes from three states,'' Cheryl says.

The family assembles on weekends and at competitions. Extra money goes to gymnastics. ''We're always in the red,'' Cheryl says.

Nobody is complaining. Part of loving your children is allowing them to chase their biggest wishes. ''I couldn't have lived with myself, wondering what if'' is how Jack puts it.

They intervened only once. Three years ago, Jaycie wanted to quit gymnastics. She felt her coach in Arizona had lost faith in her. She wanted to play, uh, volleyball.

''Four-foot-8,'' Cheryl says, ''and she wanted to play volleyball. We said, Jaycie, that's not an option.'' They felt Jaycie wanted out because of her situation, not because she'd tired of gymnastics. They asked her to try a new coach, Mary Lee Tracy at the Cincinnati Gymnastics Academy. Three years later, Jaycie is still there, on the cusp of a dream.

And see the world . . .

Neither Jack nor Cheryl was a gymnast. Ten years ago, they wouldn't have known a salto from a salt shaker. They only knew what it meant to be parents. ''You just do some things because you should,'' says Jack.

Now their daughter's big wish is blooming, at her own behest. This is how it should be. Now everything would be perfect if they could ever get all the boxes unpacked.

Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments. Call him at 768-8454, or fax him at 768-8550.

Published June 7, 1996.