Olympic Dreams
A new kind of school: Austin AngelFish teach healthy lifestyles through synchronized swimming
Austin AngelFish Synchronized Swim Team head coach Cheryl Cook is telling me about her daughter as she pulls out the underwater sound system at the pool before practice.
Now 24, her daughter began synchronized swimming when she was just six, but Cook is quick to say she had intended to make her wait until she was eight. It’s her own fault, she admits, for sparking her daughter’s interest. After all, she was the one that brought her along to a competition she was judging. When her daughter saw a friend competing, she exclaimed, “I want to do that!”
It’s a familiar exclamation among young girls when they see synchronized swimming for the first time. The glittery costumes transforming the swimmers into mermaids, their precise movements executed with desirable grace. While outsiders may not understand the sport, Cook points out that “young girls like all of it: the dance, the gymnastics, swimming. This includes all of it."
Are there any boys interested in synchronized swimming? “We did have one boy a few years ago,” she explains. He was from Dallas and was unable to continue the long distance commitment. They currently have only girls on the team but are very open to any interest from male participants.
Currently, Austin AngelFish works with girls ages six to 22 who work towards regional and national competition. Team members practice approximately three times per week on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays with additional practices during the competitive season. Tuesday and Thursday practices are held at the Jewish Community Center while Sunday practices are held at the Town Lake YMCA.
Each August, AngelFish holds a day camp called “AngelFish for a Day” to introduce kids to the basics of synchro. She’ll occasionally get emails asking if they have an adult club; but for right now, AngelFish is just for youth. “We’re pretty busy with the team we have,” she tells me.
The 32 swimmers practice close to 15 hours per week during a season that goes from August to June with practice every Sunday. They travel frequently, with meets in Texas, Washington, DC and Ohio between now and June.
For girls between the ages of eight and 16, that’s quite a commitment. Cook acknowledges this but says their dropout rate is low, considering. “High school is our biggest competitor,” she admits, noting that school and other activities like band are the things that eventually take girls away from the sport.
As we chat, the pool begins to crowd with junior high girls. Fully clothed, they form lines and count off. Their coaches watch closely as they run through ‘land drills,’ the practice of going through a swimming routine on the deck, using their arms to represent the movements of their legs. Eventually they get prepared to get in the water.
“Synchro requires lots of strength and endurance,” one of the five volunteer coaches explained to me before practice. This is evident in their warm up sculling laps, which require swimming with one of their arms raised above their heads. After several laps of this, the girls break into groups to begin practicing their routines.
“You’re planning on staying for that, I hope,” Cook says me with a big smile. She instructs me to go to the side of the pool so I can be in full view of the routines.
I watch a solo performed by the team’s eldest member, who is 16. Cook is worried because her shoulder has been bothering her and is unsure of how this practice will go. Florence + The Machines' “Cosmic Love” begins and a passionate routine unfolds, shoulder injury notwithstanding. She performs a series of astonishing figures that involve long periods underwater before suddenly bursting upwards with great height.
Amid the stirring drumbeats and Florence’s booming voice, it is suddenly obvious that “synchro music” is in its own category — songs characterized by excessive energy that tells its own story. The rest of the music chosen by the full AngelFish team tells different tale of adolescence: the Oscar-nominated theme song from Rio, Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock n' Roll” and the ageless “Macarena,” which is far less obnoxious when the choreography is different than the worn out group dance.
There is something wistful about watching synchronized swimming. The routines are full of emotion and captivating movement that are made infinitely more mysterious by the water. Figures disappear below the surface as quickly as they begin. Then, before you know it, the music ends.
The swimmers' effervescent energy is undeterred by the continuous stop and start of the routines. Coaching is yelled out across the pool. Clips of music begin then abruptly end over and over again. Choreography is reworked.
“Tuesdays and Thursdays aren’t as loud as other nights,” one coach says with a laugh. One corner of the pool has lapsed into the Hokey-Pokey and giggles. She spots this and quickly re-engages them. “Can you guess which group is the youngest?”
Even with the giggles, it's clear that synchro does help the girls develop their ability to focus individually and as a team. At the other end of the pool, the solo has stopped and two quartets are now practicing in between brainstorming new figures where the routine suffers from too much “dead space.”
One girl quickly demonstrates an odd sounding request from her coach: “Make your legs like one is a hurdle and the other jumps over it.” Another girl chimes in to clarify this with her own interpretation.
“They are strong swimmers, but controlling their arms and legs can be a problem,” Cook explains, while another coach agrees that most of the team is in that awkward stage of development. One swimmer points out that they can also, amazingly be grumpy and happy at the same time.
The familial interaction is underscored by the fact that most of the coaches have at some point coached their own daughters and at least one has a daughter on the team now. Two former swimmers help coach as well. After spending the evening with the AngelFish, it’s understandable why these swimmers want to stay involved. After a routine or a figure ends, there is an urge to watch or create more.
“I’ve got my work cut out for me on Saturday,” Cook says to me with a sigh as we wrap up, but the smile she follows it up with says that she can’t wait.