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Ridin’ The Waves 🏄‍♀️ | Javy “Coyote” Machado Imagine

Takes place before, during and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Javy “Coyote” Machado x pro surfer!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, pop culture references, details of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.1k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby)

Premise: From the moment she could walk Y/n L/n belonged to the sea. Riding the waves that started as a hobby, only to lead her to the world’s greatest sporting stage. It would take time before her dream of Olympic Gold would happen as surfing had yet to be recognized by the IOC. But in her pursuit of becoming the greatest female surfer of all time, Y/n found who she believed was the closest person to paradise.

Note: I gotta say writing athlete/Olympian!reader imagines with the dagger squad are truly some of my favorite. Gosh I cannot wait for next year because that means…..2024 Olympics 👀 Guys I’m almost done with my semester! I have less than two weeks and all i have left to do is a paper and final project !! Almost to the finish thank goodness and then I move in with my friend before starting my summer job! Hope y’all enjoyed this work and let me know what you think!

Be sure to watch the video I linked during the Rock’s segment. I didn’t make it up it actually was a segment during the opening ceremonies on NBC’s coverage.

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“Is this heaven?” He laid on the surfboard beside her, feet in the water with the warmth of the sun hit his back. A cool breeze was starting to set in as the most beautiful sunset was before him, painting the sky an endless murrel of pink and orange. Only the subtle echo of the low tide filled his ears. Javy pressed his cheek onto the board, finding her smile which made his own appear at her words.

“More like paradise.”

Everyone had their own definition of paradise. Maybe it was the quiet plains of Montana or the mountains of Appalachia. Maybe it was strolling down the streets of Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Rain pouring down on New York City with a steaming cup of tea in hand or driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with “California Love” blasting through the radio. Reading a book by the fire next to their soulmate, dancing with strangers at a concert. Ask anyone what they viewed as their own personal paradise and the responses will vary.

Y/n L/n felt she was in paradise almost everyday of her life. Waking up to the view of the ocean while birds flew overhead. Feet hitting the sand as she ran to the waters with her board, anxiously waiting to ride the waves. Salt water coating skin and hair, sun beaming down.

Paradise.

From the moment she could walk the beach became her second home. Having grown up on the island of O’ahu Y/n learned how to surf before riding a bike. Her parents surfed. As did her siblings. Getting an instructor wasn’t needed with a family who knew everything there was about the art of surfing. Y/n received her first board at age four, and from then on her life was devoted to the water. Owning more swimsuits than t-shirts and shorts by the time she reached fifth grade.

She was a natural at best. Always predicting when and where the best waves would be. Timing the push up so perfect others—even her family—were unable to keep up.

“C’mon, leave some for the rest of us,” her brother would groan, missing a wave due to her swooping in at the last second. Y/n only laughed in return.

“Gotta be faster than that.”

Her parents, surfers themselves, were basically her coaches. On weekends they were waking her up at the crack of dawn, breakfast on the counter and telling her to be on the beach when she was done. Then of course she had to apply sunscreen, the substance coating every inch of her skin. Once on the beach a thirty minute run and stretching was mandatory before she could get in the water.

Skipping such a step would have her sore all night.

“We’re gonna work on your 360, cutback, and tube ride before finishing the day with cleaning up your alley oop.”

“If I don’t make a lot of mistakes can we watch Lilo & Stitch after dinner?”

“Yes, that is a fair deal.”

Mistakes? What are those? Mistakes weren’t in Y/n’s nature and if they occurred it was a rare sighting. Only time Y/n ever did mess up on a maneuver was when she was first learning it. Once she had it down it was impossible to lose.

All the friends she made loved going to the beaches after school and on weekends—getting all their homework done during the school hours so their entire afternoon was free. They signed up for competitions together, Y/n entering her first at age 14 for the 2004 Juniors season after competitions in regionals since age 11. “You’re gonna win the comp, Y/n.”

“Oh stop playing,” she brushed her best friend off, only to hear the murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group.

“I’m serious! You catch the best waves and ride them perfectly. Those judges are gonna be amazed on Saturday—I bet you’ll even get a sponsor.”

Her best friend was right. Not only did Rip Curl—THE Rip Curl want Y/n to be the face of their new campaign, but the surfing world would know her name for generations to come.

“Welcome back to our coverage of the 2004 ISA World Junior Surf Championship here in beautiful O’ahu, Hawaii here on ESPN. We’re dwindling down on the final competition with the defending champion from last year's event, sixteen-year-old Carolina Kanoa, and newcomer, Y/n L/n. If you’ve been watching the competition then you know all eyes have been on the fourteen-year-old native of Kapolei here on O’ahu, who scored the highest in her heats and received all tens in the quarterfinals after a perfect run.”

“It was quite the sight, Tom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so effortless in this competition. Y/n’s delivered a captivating performance each wave she’s catched—always getting the first one in her heats and pulling out a big score putting her high on the leaderboard. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see her on top of the podium today.”

“For anyone watching at home who are new to surfing or just want a little refresh on the scoring system, here is how it works: a panel of five judges determine a score one through ten, ten being the best, for each surfer on their wave based on degree of difficulty, innovative maneuvers, combination of major maneuvers, the variety of said maneuvers, and the speed, power, and flow. The highest and lowest score are thrown out leaving the remaining three, which are then averaged out. Now a surfer can catch as many waves as they please but only the two highest scoring waves will be added together to give the total score for that heat. From there competitors are eliminated until there are two finalists.”

Treading water, Y/n paid close attention to the scene in front of her. With only three minutes left on the clock, she was one wave away from crowning herself the Junior World Champion.

“Give me a sign,” she breathed in the salty air. Her thoughts were answered seconds later by a chill running down her neck, gaze snapping to the left where she saw the water draw back. Springing into action, Y/n paddled towards the forming wave, timing it at the perfect moment to end the competition on a bang. She heard the crowd cheer when she stood up, increasing each maneuver she did until finally riding out the end of the wave right as the bullhorn sounded.

Her heart pounded, “Did I just win?” Damn sure she did. Nothing could describe the feeling of holding the championship trophy at the top of the podium. And what made it ten times better, an ambassador of Rip Curl offered her a sponsorship. Before long Y/n’s name and face were plastered across all their campaigns. After winning the ISA Junior World Championships three years in a row—making her a household name in surfing—Y/n went on to senior international competitions. From there her glory only skyrocketed.

ISA World Surfing Games, World Surf League, Rip Curl Pro, Big Wave Tour, Vans Triple Crown of Surfing. Y/n’s little shelf of trophies turned into a full length china cabinet. Traveling back and forth from O’ahu to America. Sometimes even going to South America and Japan for international comps. By age 19 she had created her own maneuver earning her even more attention due to the level of difficulty.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about?” She chewed on a piece of spam, leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter. “All I did was add a couple of extra spins on my aerial.” Her mother gave her a bewildered look.

“That move in itself is difficult, Y/n. Not many perform it in competition and the fact you successfully landed one—with your little spoof nonetheless, people are gonna be amazed.”

“Well, I guess I just got lucky.”

Following high school Y/n turned professional and moved to Honolulu to attend the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa where she studied sports management with a minor in sports science. A family friend had an old Volkswagen Type 2 and Y/n was happy to take it off their hands, fixing it up to have the perfect beach van. Once classes were done for the day Y/n was packing it up with her board, cooler, boombox, and her closest friends.

“You sure this thing isn’t gonna break down on us?”

“Don’t insult Sandy. She’s as good as new,” okay that was a stretch, the van was literally 60 years old, “and I filled her up on gas this morning so we shouldn’t find ourselves on the side of the road.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Y/n. Much appreciated.”

It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize her on campus. Having generated a public image in surfing—which many of her peers were also involved in—meant she was bound to hear, “Hey, you’re Y/n L/n?” “Oh my gosh I’ve been watching you compete since you were a junior competitor.” “Congrats on winning the Pro this year.”

There were times professors kindly asked, “Can you sign this for my kid? They’ve been into surfing lately and you’re their favorite athlete.” Taking photos with supporters happened occasionally as did giving advice to those wanting to get into surfing. It was a nice feeling for the woman to be able to inspire people and share the sport she loved.

Expanding the art of surfing to the world.

Four years of college seemed to fly by fast. Y/n was surprised she managed to pull through with a 3.6 GPA and graduate Cum Laude with everything in her life. A lot of the competitions were during the school year so Y/n had lots of work on her plate—thankfully some instructors were reasonable and allowed her to get an advance on the material. But she completed her degree with immense relief, aiming to get a career in sports going either by becoming a trainer or manager following her retirement from surfing.

“Y/n, It’s so great to see you again this year at the World Surf League World Championship. You recently graduated from the University of Hawai’i, you’re set to compete in today’s finals to defend your title—how many would this be for you? Number seven?”

Y/n chuckled with the reporter, brushing away a stray piece of hair. “Lucky number seven, yes. I’m so happy and grateful to be competing today—excited to hit the water and try to catch the best waves possible. Regardless of the outcome today I’m just really happy to be here again. I always look forward to this time of year—being able to compete and after working so hard in school this last semester, it’s definitely a relief to not have to worry about finishing a paper last minute once this comp ends.”

“There’s been recent talk of surfing possibly becoming an Olympic sport after much demand following the London Games this year. What are your thoughts? Do you think it’ll be featured in Rio and if so are you going to try and make the team?”

Since becoming a professional sport in 1959 following the first West Coast Surfing Championship in Huntington Beach, California, surfing had yet to reach the greatest sporting stage. The Olympic Games. Held every four years where thousands of athletes from around the globe come together to compete for the chance at gold. Duke Kahanamoku, the father of modern surfing and three-time Olympic freestyle swimming champion having won gold at the 1912 and 1920 Games respectively, first advocated the sport to be in the Olympics back in 1920. Had it not been for him, surfing may not have become as popular in the world as it was.

When it came to the Olympics, Y/n loved sitting by the tv to watch Team USA. Witnessing historic moments and record breaking finishes she was in awe of every athlete who came across the screen. Swimming, diving, track, gymnastics, soccer. So many sports events in a single fortnight. She hoped surfing would become an official sport in the Games. For she too had dreams of an Olympic gold around her neck.

Pausing for a moment, Y/n smiled at the thought of her becoming an Olympic Champion, “I think a lot of us can agree that we’d like to see surfing become part of the Olympic family. It’s one of the oldest sports and has its own professional circuit for decades now—I mean we’ve got people here today from Japan, Italy, El Salvador and Australia. Why not include it? And you can definitely expect me to be training the moment it is.”

It would be four years before Y/n could make do with that promise. On August 3, 2016, two days prior to the opening ceremonies of the Games of the XXXI Olympiad, the IOC announced surfing would finally be an Olympic sport.

“Exciting news for the surfing world,” the headline appeared on the screen of ESPN’s afternoon coverage, “the International Olympic Committee has just confirmed the sport will be introduced for the first time in its history at the Tokyo Olympics taking place in 2020–marking 100 years since surfing legend Duke Kahanamoku first started advocating for it to be featured. Professional surfing isn’t new to international competition having debuted at Huntington Beach, California in 1959. Since then there’s been several meets featuring surfers from all over the world—the most recent being the 2016 Rip Curl Pro where ten-time World Surf League champion Y/n L/n claimed the title once again for the fifth time since her senior international debut in 2007. L/n is just one of many professional surfers who’ve advocated for surfing to be in the Olympics over the years and expressed interest in competing for a chance at gold. With the confirmation by the IOC this morning, I’d say we’ll be seeing her at the trials in four years.”

The morning after the announcement Y/n headed to the beach to find her father propping her board into the sound. “So four years, huh?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the wind breeze past them.

“Seems like a long way, but it’ll be around the corner before we know it.”

“We better get started then.”

Morning, afternoon, evening. Every day Y/n was on the water catching waves left and right. Perfecting maneuvers, getting air in her aerials. When taking breaks she’d go on runs and to the gym. She still participated in yearly competitions and surfed with her friends, but her training habits became more intense as she prepped for Tokyo. When she wasn’t sleeping, eating, or competing she was on the water.

By 2019 Y/n had accumulated the most titles won by a female surfer with ten ISA World Surfing Games—formerly the World Surfing Championships, ten Rip Curl Pro trophies, five QuickSilver pro Gold Coast, five-time triple crown winner, and the 2016 champion of The Eddie Aikua Big Wave International. Winning The Eddie and becoming the first woman in history to do so after the event returned from a seven-year hiatus had Y/n on the front page of several sports magazines around the world. It was a huge accomplishment. Pushing Y/n as the favorite to win gold in Tokyo.

Towards the later end of the year, October in fact, Y/n found herself on the sunny beaches of San Diego, California. August to November were the best months to surf in the area, being it was late summer going into fall where the heat wasn’t excruciating. Still one had to wear a wetsuit to even touch the water.

Y/n was in town to visit an old friend from college and to help the Pacific Beach Surf Club with their beach cleanups and participate in a charity competition. Having traveled in San Diego a few times she was no stranger to the club and welcomed with open arms. Volunteering in their cleanups was the least she could do to prepare the beach for the charity event.

When they finished they all changed out of their clothes into wetsuits, wasting no time to hit the waves. “Hey!” Her friend yelled from where she was treading water, tone teasing, “be sure to leave some for the rest of us, yeah?” Y/n threw her head back in laughter.

“I make no promises!”

Anytime Y/n surfed out of training or competition she felt so free. No pressure to be perfect. No shouting from her father. No commentary from the sportscasters or questions from reporters. Only her, her board, and the beautiful sea.

She cheered on her friend and the people in their cleanup group when they caught waves. Complimenting them whenever they did a cool trick. In return they whistled and hollered for her. They soon developed an audience from the shore. Children and adults alike stop to watch them in awe. Instantly drawn to Y/n who glided effortlessly, guiding her board into a tube ride.

Unbeknownst to the surfer, a group of navy pilots had stopped their game of dogfight football to observe the show.

Jake whistled, “Damn she’s good.” Mickey agreed.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone surf like that. She’s a natural.”

“Probably has been doing it for years,” Bradley commented, fixing his aviators. Natasha and Bob hummed in agreement.

“I think I’m in love,” Javy breathed out, simply in awe of what he was witnessing. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen showcasing talent on a board he could only dream of possessing.

He wondered what her laugh sounded like, seeing her head tilt back at something her friend said. Even from the distance her smile was breathtaking. Hair pulled back into a tight bun, body adored in a wetsuit to combat the cool water. A cheeky smirk thrown at her peers when she started paddling toward a forming wave. Standing on the board like a pro and making all kinds of turns and tricks Javy knew he’d wipe out the second he attempted them. Speaking of wiping out, she hadn’t done it once.

Jake nudging him from the side snapped him out of his daydream, “Go talk to her.” At the nod of his head, Javy realized she was running across the sand, stopping when she got to an area of coolers, towels, and backpacks.

“No!” He hissed, eyes reading, ‘are you crazy?’

“Why not? Just go up and start complimenting her. Ask her how long she’s been surfing. That’ll start a conversation.”

Javy scoffed, “Easy for you to say, Mr. Ken Barbie Doll who doesn’t need a confidence boost when talking to women.” Jake went to rebuttals but the sound of Reuben coughing stopped him.

“Uh guys….” He lifted a finger, their gazes following to find a family of four approaching the young woman. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but seeing her take a notepad from the little girl before scribbling in what appeared to be an autograph followed by the father snapping a photo with his phone, it was enough to conclude she was someone.

“Are…is she signing autographs?” Javy wondered aloud. He watched her sign the little boy's boogie board, posing for a photo with him before kneeling down to be on both the children’s level and smile for the camera. Hell even the parents wanted a photo, one of her friends coming over to hold the phone while they positioned themselves on either side. Then finally the whole family had a group one, saying their goodbyes and thank you’s to the woman who waved as they left.

“So she’s kinda famous,” Bradley said the obvious, everyone in a daze. Probably trying to figure out who the woman was, as none had recognized her as an actress or singer.

While they were busy investigating, Y/n unzipped her wetsuit leaving her bikini underneath and pulled on shorts with a graphic t-shirt overtop. “What are you guys doing after this?”

“We’re gonna grab some drinks at The Hard Deck. You down?”

“The Hard Deck?” She repeated with a tilt of the head. Never had she heard of the place.

“It’s that bar over there,” Y/n turned to the direction her friend was nodding at, eyes landing on a building not far from where they stood. “Great vibes, but I must warn ya it’s always filled with Navy fellas.” Y/n perked up slightly. Having lived on O’ahu all her life she was familiar with Navy personnel. After all, Pearl Harbor was located just on the coast of the island.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Miramar is not too far from here. It’s where the pilots train so expect to see some in flight suits.”

At around 6 the group packed it up and headed for the bar. Upon entry Y/n saw exactly what her friend had warned. The place was buzzing. Servicemen and women on every corner, music blasting from the jukebox. They approached the bar top to order a round of beers before settling over by the high top tables, splitting the group up since there were about eight of them.

“Check it out, Machado,” Payback clapped his friend’s back, making him turn to where his attention was. Javy’s eyes widened upon seeing the surfer.

“Did they just get here?”

“Looked like it. You should talk to her—especially since this is the second sighting in mere hours.” The pilot rolled his eyes.

“I don’t wanna come off as a creep, Fitch. What am I supposed to say ‘Hey, sorry if this is weird but I saw you surfing earlier—can I buy you a drink?’ She might throw me to the sharks.”

Natasha shook her head, “men.” A moment later Penny arrived with a tray of beers, placing them down on the seat beside Bob where the guys were shooting pool, “delivery for my favorite dagger squad.”

Thanks were sent her way followed by Jake asking, “Say Pen, you know those guys?” The bartender glanced over her shoulder to see who he was referring to, nodding with a smile.

“Oh that’s some members of the Pacific Beach Surf Club. They were cleaning up the beach earlier for tomorrow's charity competition. Expect the place to be packed if you drop by, it’s always a madhouse. This year they’ve got some of the best surfers participating.”

“Do you know if she’s one of them,” Javy tried to act cool when pointing out the woman.

Upon Penny’s smirk, the answer was clear, “Unless my eyes are deceiving me, I believe that’s ten-time world surfing champion Y/n L/n.”

“Ten?!” Mickey repeated, “Holy shit.” Around him the others were matching his expression. Javy immediately grabbed his phone to type in the name. Sure enough the image of the woman seated at the table appeared on his screen. Clicking on the Wikipedia page he started to read aloud for the group the opening paragraph.

“Y/n M/n L/n, born y/b/m yb/d, 1990 is an American professional surfer from Kapolei, O’ahu, Hawaii and a ten-time World Surf League Women’s World champion, the most titles won by any female surfer to date. L/n made her debut at the World Surf League Junior Championships at age 14 in 2004 in her native O’ahu, winning three consecutive times before turning to senior international competition where she’s won a total of forty world titles—including becoming a five-time triple crown winner. As of 2016, L/n is the defending champion and first women to win the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational. She is set to compete at the first ever U.S Olympic Trials in hopes of making the Tokyo Olympic Team where surfing will make its debut at the Olympics.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jake peered over Javy’s shoulder, watching him scroll down to view Y/n’s career statistics. Mickey appeared on the opposite side, whistling under his breath. Natasha took out her own phone to search herself, Bradley, Bob, and Payback all glancing over to see.

“She’s literally called the greatest surfer of this generation,” Bradley pointed out. “Talk about intimidating.”

“Now you gotta buy her a drink, Machado,” Payback concluded, igniting another glare from his friend. “Say you pulled an Olympian.”

“I’ll take it to her,” Penny offered, and before Javy could stop her the woman was back behind the bar. They watched her take a Corona from the cooler, add a lime and proceed to the table the athlete was at. “From the gentlemen by the pool tables,” Penny smiled at Y/n, nodding to the group, “the one the blonde is pointing at.” Turning her head, Y/n saw the guy in question pushing his friend’s hand down, a reddish hue on his cheeks when they made eye contact followed by a wave.

‘Well hello there,’ she thought, smiling at the handsome man. He was in a pair of basketball shorts and t-shirt reading NAVY in bold letters. The group he was with all scattered to make it look like they weren’t eavesdropping when Y/n approached, Corona in hand, “Hi.”

“Hello,” even his voice was attractive. Everything about him was. From his clear smooth skin to his dazzling smile. Toned arms and legs.

“Thanks for the beer.”

“Anytime,” he tipped the one in his hand, Y/n clicking hers against it. “Sorry if this is weird at all. I saw you surfing earlier and was trying to muster up the courage to come talk to you….but couldn’t find the words to say.”

Y/n smirked, gesturing to an empty pool table, “how about a game? Maybe it’ll help loosen your nerves.” Moving to a cue Y/n sees his grin widen, “I’m Y/n by the way.”

“I’m Javy, but you can call me Coyote.”

“Coyote?” She repeats with a chuckle, “That’s an interesting nickname.”

“Callsign actually,” he politely corrects before explaining he was a naval aviator. Grabbing his own cue while she sets up the rack, he added, “Wasn’t my doing.”

“Then how’d you get it?”

“Um…” he made a face, as though he was embarrassed to say. “I’ll tell you if you win this match.” A sound between a scoff and a laugh escaped her.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be.” Javy raises his hands in defense, laughing with her. “And if you win?”

His own smirk appears, “You give me your phone number…maybe even let me take you out.” Biting back a grin and fighting the warm feeling in her chest, Y/n removes the rack leaving the pool balls neatly centered.

“Challenge accepted, Coyote.”

It was safe to say both came out as winners that night. Though Y/n won the game and got the scoop on Javy’s callsign origin, he walked away with her number and plans to have dinner the following night after her charity event. Javy made the promise to come out and watch her surf, excited to see her in action. Hearing Y/n talk about the sport and her accomplishments was even cooler in person than reading it off the internet. From her amateur days to becoming a full blown professional. Winning countless championship titles, being the first woman to win The Eddie and her dream to win gold at the Olympics.

Javy was smitten.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She smiled when they reached her van at the end of the night. They talked for hours to the point they lost track of time. It was 11 o’clock and she had to be up at five.

“You said it starts at noon?” At her nod Javy continued, “I’ll be there. And I look forward to our dinner plans after.” Y/n felt the heat rise, hoping it wasn’t displaying on her face.

“Me too. Thank you for a fun night, Javy,” feeling bold, Y/n leans to place a kiss on his cheek. The action leaves him stunned, smile growing bigger as she pulls away. “See you on the beach.”

Now Javy had loved the beach before meeting Y/n. But his love for it and the ocean only grew the moment he watched her ride the waves. Cheering from the sand as she dropped down and glided the tide with ease. It made him want to stay there forever.

He understood quickly why she was regarded as the greatest female surfer of all time. Yeah it was a charity competition and not a world championship, but Y/n treated the waves no differently. She was a beast. Total control of her board, little to no mistakes.

Their dinner date was filled with laughter, flirty sarcasm, stories so outrageous one would think they were bluffing. Javy spoke of his time at Top Gun and his friendship with Jake. Y/n told him about her college days. Both engaged in conversations about dreams and aspirations. Yeah they had their dream careers, but one can always dream bigger. Dream about friendship, dream about love.

Dream about the future.

When the night came to an end, Y/n laid her head on the pillow with a smile on her face, “I think this might be paradise.”

23 July 2021–The Hard Deck, San Diego California.

“It’s almost time for USA!” Javy hushes everyone, grabbing the remote to increase the volume. The place was packed mostly with the squad's friends, colleagues, the Pacific Beach Surf Club, and college students from UC San Diego. Togethery they were gathered to watch the opening ceremonies of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

The Tokyo Olympics.

Finally after a whole year of waiting the Games were finally being held. A global pandemic sure would be the only thing to stop the most iconic two-week sporting event in the world.

And Javy’s girlfriend, 12x World champion Y/n L/n, was there to be part of surfing's Olympic debut. Gold on her mind.

The two had been long distance the majority of their relationship, but FaceTimed nearly every day with promises to visit as soon as restrictions were lifted. Y/n traveled to San Diego in the winter of 2020 to mark the couple’s one year anniversary. Then Javy flew to Hawaii in the spring, spending two weeks in Kapolei where most time was spent surfing and late night drive on the beach.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he sang at the top of his lungs, windows rolled down .

“Than on my surfboard out at sea,” Y/n followed, smile wide on her face with her hair blowing in the wind.

“Lingering in the ocean blue.”

“And if I had one wish come true.”

Together they sang, “I’d surf ‘til the sun sets beyond the horizon!”

Y/n tilted her head back, “‘Āwikiwiki, mai lohilohi. Lawe mai i ko papa he’e nalu.”

Belting out together once again, their voices echoed in the night, “Flying by on the Hawaiian roller coaster ride!!”

“‘Āwikiwiki, mai lohilohi. Lawe mai i ko papa he’e nalu.”

“Pi’i nā nalu lā lahalaha. ‘O ka Moana hānupanupa.”

“Lalala i ka lā hanahana. Me ke kai hoene i ka pu’e one.”

“Heel, hele mai kākou ē.”

“Hawaiian roller coaster ride!”

During the Olympic surf qualifying event in Huntington Beach the whole squad was in attendance to cheer Y/n on. Javy embraced her in tears, lifting her onto his shoulders to the hollars and whistles of their friends and family.

Y/n was officially an Olympian.

Now usually during the parade of nations of the opening ceremonies Greece is the first to enter the arena followed by the countries in alphabetical order with the hosting nation entering last. Having waited a whole year due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the world was excited to get the Games started. But to everyone’s surprise the order of the parade of nations would proceed differently than prior Olympics.

Greece still entered first, followed by the Refugee Olympic Team and then the nations paraded in based on where they fell on the Gojūon system. Japan would be the last country to march in, but for the first time ever the hosting countries of the next two Olympics entered before the hosting country. And what were those two countries?

France and The United States of America.

Paris was set to host the upcoming 2024 Games just three years away, and then in 2028 Los Angeles gets the honor once again of bringing the world together. The last time LA hosted was in 1984, and the last time America itself hosted the Summer Games was Atlanta 1996.

“Okay everyone shut up!!” The tv was turned to the loudest volume possible, all in attendance falling to hush whispers.

“Everything changes,” Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s voice echoes through the speakers, his silhouette figure walking into an empty arena. “The longest wait of their lives is over.” The beat of the music gets louder, building in pressure. “And the combination of their blood, sweat, and tears,” his face is revealed under the light, “finally arrives.”

The beat drops in time with the image of fireworks rocketing from the Rio arena, an announcer’s voice stating, “this is the moment that you all have been waiting for.”

“It’s not easy to bring the entire whole planet together,” the Rock states, “and it certainly wasn’t tonight. But, here we are.”

“Finally!”

“It’s finally here.”

“The Olympics are finally here,” Gold Medalist Simone Biles grins.

“Yeah, I’m hyped up.”

“Can’t wait to show the world what I got.”

The image shows Dwayne once again, “Tonight we are all so lucky to witness the hardest workers in the room.” Then it changes to athletes training, from gymnast Sam Mikulak to sprinter Noah Lyles. “The athletes who are a brilliant tapestry of talent, commitment, and drive.”

“Drive, drive, drive!”

“Now what was once considered unthinkable just one year ago has become a glorious reality. We come together united to celebrate the Olympians who exemplify the very best in all of us.”

🎼 legs are shaking, hands aching, 🎼

Simone Biles appears, determination in her gaze as she races down the vault runway. “It’s Simone’s party and everyone else is just a guest,” Tim Daggett’s voice cuts in during the clip of Simone at the World Championships, followed by the Rock.

“She is absolutely the greatest gymnast the world has ever seen. But even if there’s nothing left to prove, there’s a chance to launch herself even higher into the rarest air of immortality.”

As Simone lands her vault, it transitions into Katie Ledecky entering the pool. “The most dominant swimmer in the world.” “It’s just ridiculous!”

“She swims like a machine created to wreak havoc and decimate with impunity.”

“Katie Ledecky smashes her own world record!”

“But in reality she’s about the nicest person you’ll ever meet,” the rock’s face returns, bearing his own smile like Katie. “And kindness matters. Always.” Track star Noah Lyles running takes over. “He makes running as fast as you can look the way it’s supposed to look.”

“NOAH LYLES, WORLD CHAMPION!”

Dwayne grins, “Damn fun.” The next athlete featured was the one they were all waiting for.

“On dry land she’s impressive, in the water she’s simply lethal,” the Hard Deck erupted in cheers, Y/n flashing onto the screens showcasing her drop in during the WSL World Tour.

“That’s my baby!!!” Her name appeared in big bold letters like the others, ‘Y/n L/n. Kapolei, O’ahu, HI.’

“Monstruos wave for Y/n L/n, but she handles it like a pro.” The clip shows her pointing to the sky in victory following her win. “She’s here to prove why surfing should’ve been in the Olympics ages ago,” the Rock looks proud, “and look cool as hell while doing so.”

The tone of the video shifts, bringing forth the raw and emotional reality of athletes who’ve given every inch of their soul to be on the world’s greatest sporting stage. “They’re kids from Minneapolis—.”

“Kenny Harrison!” A girl crosses the finish line in joy, soon embraced by her father. “Raleigh.”

Fellow surfer and native Hawaiian Carissa Moore is shown, “And Honolulu.” A baby in a stroller being pushed by her mother. “They’re working moms with unfinished business.” Allison Felix with her daughter.

“This is what makes all the sacrifice worth it.”

Simone Manuel becoming the first Black woman to win an individual Olympic gold at the 2016 Rio Games. “The barrier breakers who’ve proven the power of the platform.”

“I can’t begin to tell you what this means for the sport of swimming in the United States.”

“There’s Jordan—!” A montage of Gold medal winning teams flashed. The Fab Five. The women’s soccer and basketball teams. The women’s rowing team. The Fierce and Final Five of U.S Gymnastics. “And the teams that have dominated for generations with no intention of changing the script for this one.”

“Get the gold medals ready. Again!”

“These awe-inspiring multi-talented athletes are taking on the world.”

🎼 ‘You bring me back to life.’ 🎼

Between the music and feel good montage, some of the viewers in the hard deck were having trouble holding back tears. Chills racking up their body. It made them want to get out and start training to be a world class athlete.

“They really are the best of us. They’re bringing us together.”

“That’s a new world record!”

“And they’re about to give you, at long last, the greatest two-week spectacle the world has ever seen.” Close ups of Team USA’s Olympians rolled, Javy wiping his eyes when Y/n appeared. “It is their Games. It is our Games.”

Absolute chills.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am so grateful to have the honor of presenting to you….Team USA.” At the last word the Rock disappears, cutting to Team USA entering the Tokyo dome—the American flag flying high, “USA! USA! USA!” Though they couldn’t hear the cheers from the Hard Deck across the ocean, that didn’t stop the building from erupting in whistles. It was only the opening ceremonies so one could imagine what it would be like come the 26th and 27th.

When Y/n hits the waves for a chance at Olympic gold.

Tsurigasaki Beach, located 40 miles from Tokyo, was the place where it would all happen. The damp sand beneath Y/n’s toes felt comforting. Although the overcast skies made her worried. Tropical Storm Nepartak caused the waves to be more aggressive and unpredictable. It was going to be an interesting day of competition.

After qualifying with a big score in her heat the previous day, Y/n was set to compete in the quarterfinals that morning. From there the semi-final contestants would be decided, going straight into the event before finals that afternoon. Three events in one day if she made it all the way to the end.

“I’m going to be so sore tonight.”

Shortboard in hand, Y/n raced to the water the second the horn sounded. Instant shivers along her arms from the cold feeling. Cloudy skies prevented the sun from heating the water, “goodness gracious.”

Quarterfinals breezed by. Y/n started off strong with a score of 7 for her first wave, going on to claim two more, another 7 and an 8 bringing her total score to a 15. Putting her, American Carissa Moore, South African Bianca Buitendag and Japan’s Amuro Tsuzuki into the semifinals.

“Stellar performance by Y/n L/n of the United States. She had a bit of trouble on her second wave—which we can’t blame her for; many competitors have been having difficulty today due to the impact of tropical storm Nepartak on the tide. L/n’s score of 15 puts her at the top for the quarterfinals, but that can all change when we return for the semifinals in the next hour. It looks like she’ll be up against Japan’s Amuro Tsuzuki for one of two spots in the gold medal match.”

“That’s how you do it,” Javy clapped at the tv, the footage replaying Y/n’s competition highlights. “Semi-finals here we go.”

During the semis the pressure was on. Y/n could feel it all over, anxiety coursing when the horn sounded. Thirty minutes on the clock, ticking down to eliminate either her or Amuro. Usually her luck turns out for the better whenever she gets the first wave, however, Amuro beats her to it. Catching the next one Y/n focuses on pulling speed and managing her flow into the maneuvers, receiving a score of 6.2 on her first wave, 8.3 on her second and 7 on her third. Unfortunately a wipe out early on her fourth and final wave results in a score of 3.

“Is that gonna be enough?” Jake cringes, noticing the look of unease on his friend's visage. Y/n appeared shaken from the wipe out. Very rare has she ever messed up greatly in competition. But there’s always a first for everything.

Javy had a paper in front of him, writing down Y/n’s scores and the ones of her competitors to predict what she needed and if she was qualified to the final round.

“Her six and seven will be dropped, putting her at 11.30,” he taps the pen on the bar surface, “if Amuro doesn’t get another wave in the next,” Javy checks the time, “two minutes then it should put Y/n through to the finals.”

Amuro did in fact catch another wave before the horn sounded, ending their round in the semis, but it wasn’t enough. Her total score accumulated a 7.43, eliminating her from the final competition.

“One more,” her father/coach took a hold of her shoulders. “You’re almost there, Y/n.” Almost to the gold. “Rest up, you got one hour.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Picking up a water bottle and plotting on the sand Y/n downed the liquid and munched on an apple. To pass time she scrolled through Tik Tok, sent a selfie to Javy—who sent one of him and the squad back—and called her family in O’ahu to calm her nerves. She had already talked with Javy that morning before quarterfinals, promising to FaceTime him after the finals.

It was nerve racking. Regardless of how the event went, Y/n was guaranteed the silver medal. USA would take home both Gold and Silver in surfing’s debut being fellow American Carissa Moore beat out South Africa’s Bianca Buitendag in their round.

One competition left.

Bidding good luck to Carissa, Y/n took her position and waited for the horn. Thirty minutes on the clock. Thirty minutes to a gold medal.

“Here we go,” Payback announced in time with Y/n paddling out to sea. Javy rubbed his hands together, eyes glued to the screen.

“And the two Americans are off in the first ever gold medal match for surfing. Carissa Moore, the 2019 WSL World Champion, and twelve-time title holder Y/n L/n head-to-head to declare who will become the woman to win surfing’s first gold medal. Both have exemplified great performances today—it’s not easy doing a quarterfinals, semi-finals, and finals all in one day, but these pros make it look easy.”

“There she goes!” Nat shouted, earning cheers at the bar when Y/n caught the first wave of the competition.

“Kicking off with the first wave, in just two minutes of the clock starting is Y/n L/n. Dropping in beautifully, easing into the wave…..Straight into an roundhouse cutback, which she does flawlessly. Bottom turn, I think she’s gonna try and do a off-the-lip right here….and she nails it! I think she’s hoping to elongate this wave as far out as she can. Carving now and finishing with a 360 into an Ariel. Wow! That was a great start by Y/n.”

“Yeah that’s what I’m talking about!” Javy shouted over the cheers, grin plastered wide only to brighten more when the score came back a 8.7. “HELL YEAH! LETS GO!”

Carissa’s wave was impressive. She managed to hold it down with complicated moves to earn a 8.5. Both women scored huge on the first waves followed by 7s across the board. Nearing the final five minutes Carissa managed to get a 6.43.

“She can’t get anything lower than a 6.23,” Javy felt sweat pool on his forehead, suddenly feeling hot in the bar despite it being the ass crack of dawn.

“She’s got this,” Nat patted his back.

The clock was ticking down. Two minutes to go and Y/n had yet to find a wave. Placing her palm onto the surface, she took a deep breath, “please, give me a sign.” Not a moment later she felt something in her say to look right.

There, brimming about fifteen feet away, was the perfect wave.

Wasting no time Y/n’s chest planted to her board, paddling as fast as possible. Her heart was pounding, salt water splashing. Positioning herself in front of the forming body, Y/n silently called out to whoever was listening for strength.

“Wow she’s going for that huge current out on the west side. Moore is too far back—it’s gonna be L/n on the final wave of the women’s competition. With one minute to go she’s dropping in—.”

Y/n allowed the adrenaline to consume her, giving it total control as she dropped in. The highest wave of the competition yet, Y/n knew she’d be having a tube ride with how it formed. Picking up speed, she knelt slightly, paralleling her chest with the wall of the wave, the water curving around her. Blocking the world from her view.

It was just her and the sea. No one else.

Closing her eyes briefly, she pictured she was back on O’ahu in the water she grew up in. Sun beating down and gentle hum of seagulls.

Like she was in paradise.

The image left as quick as it came. Y/n snapping out of her daydream to exit the tube ride to the cheers of her father on the beach, curing back into the wave to finish on a high note by performing her signature Ariel. Smiling the whole way down just as the horn signified the end of the competition.

“And there you have it folks. The women’s surfing finals has officially come to a close—Y/n L/n ending her Olympic Games with a remarkable last wave. Absolute perfection with speed, precision, and control. That’s gonna be the highest score for her I feel.”

“C’mon, c’mon,” Javy bit his nail, knee bouncing from the anxiety of not knowing. Carissa’s total score was displayed first, 14.93. Y/n’s lowest was a seven, highest 8.7. Her final wave was amazing, but judging was unpredictable. Anything could happen.

Then in the blink of an eye the hard deck exploded.

“I don’t believe it! Tens across the board for Y/n L/n bringing her total to 17.00!! Y/n L/n has won the gold for the United States—Carissa Moore with the silver. USA goes one and two in women’s surfing at its Olympic debut!!! Take it all in, we are witnessing history,” the screen shows Y/n and Carissa embracing, leaning over their boards to congratulate the other, “Team USA has much to celebrate, the world of surfing has their champion. Y/n L/n adds gold to her name—surfing’s first Olympic Champion here in Tokyo!!”

Y/n laughed the entire time she paddled to shore, raising to her feet to race towards her father. She was soaking wet but he didn’t care. “You did it!” He yelled, kissing her head with tears in his eyes. “You’re an Olympic champion! I’m so so proud of you!” Soon they were greeted by Carissa and the rest of Team USA’s surfing members. The two women were lifted onto shoulders, American flags draped over their backs with photographers surrounding them.

It was a moving image. Two women from Honolulu and Kapolei, Hawaii won surfing’s first Olympic silver and gold medal. If only Duke Kahanamoku could be there to witness.

Back at the hard deck celebratory drinks were served and toasts raised to Y/n. Javy barely contained his emotion, eyes watering the moment her name came back the winner. Natasha and Jake embraced him in a hug, the guys whistling and hollering. Penny rang the bell.

“She won! Oh my God my baby is a gold medalist!! This is the best day ever!!”

The entire podium ceremony Y/n was on cloud nine. Placing the gold medal around her neck, she took a moment to stare at it. Disbelief and awe in her eyes. ‘Wow, I actually did it.’

When the national anthem came to an end Y/n did the traditional bite of the medal for the cameras. Posing with Carissa and Bianca afterwards, Y/n was ushered to interviews.

“Hello, Y/n,” the reporter beamed, “congratulations are in store—what an amazing moment for you. You’re the first gold medalist in women’s surfing at the Olympics. How does it feel?”

“It’s absolutely a dream come true. For years the surfing community has wished for this—to be in the Olympics and for me to be part of its debut, winning the gold medal…I-I can’t put into words how much this means to me. I’m so grateful and honored.”

“You’ve been around for a while now,” the reporter mentioned, “2004 was the first time we saw you and you’ve gone on to have a stellar surfing career. Winning the WSL World Surfing Games twelve times now—competing when it was still called the WSL World Championships and became the first woman to win The Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational in 2016. This is your first Olympic Games, surfing will be at the Paris Games in three years. Can we expect to hopefully see you there?”

“I wouldn't rule it out,” Y/n winked with a giggle. “Paris is in three years and I would love to return to the Olympics again. After dreaming for so long I don’t want to let it go so easily. Of course anything can happen between now and 2024 but with my family, friends, and boyfriend cheering me on with their endless support…” she gave a cheeky shrug, “I’m gonna work hard and get back in the water once I’m home.”

“We’ll be rooting for you, Y/n. I don’t think the surfing world is ready to say goodbye to you. Anything else you’d like to say before you have to go. Anyone you’d like to say thanks to?”

Instantly the Olympian brightened, eyes locking on the camera. “I wanna give a shoutout to my hometown of Kapolei on O’ahu—the place where this journey started on the beautiful beaches and waters of my home. To my family and friends, thank you for your love, support, guidance and always cheering me on even when the going gets tough. My dad, who’s been my coach since I was seven is with me here to share this win, I couldn’t have done this without him. To my San Diego family watching, you better save me a beer at the Hard Deck when I come visit next week,” she winks, knowing the squad would get a kick out of it. Then Y/n softens, “and finally to my boyfriend, Javy, who’s with our friends in Fightertown. I love you so much, thank you for being my rock during quarantine and pushing me to do my best. I can’t wait to see you and this is for you.” Holding up the medal, Y/n blows a kiss to the screen before saying goodbye to the reporter.

Upon landing in San Diego two nights later, Y/n was greeted by a celebration from her friends. Members of the Pacific Beach Surf Club were there, as were the dagger squad. Javy met her in the middle the second she exited the terminal, lifting her in his arms. “Finally your back!! I’m so fucking proud of you!” Setting her down, he kept his arms around her and the two jumped up and down like school children in a heap of laughter.

Finally they calmed, sharing a sweet kiss. “How was your flight,” he walked when they pulled away, moving to grab her carryon back.

“Long,” she moaned, leaning into his side. “But worth it.” Soon she was surrounded by their friends. Congratulations all around, Mickey asking to see the medal, Jake saying all her drinks are on him, Nat telling her how much she missed having another girl around. “I missed you guys,” Y/n pouted, “man I wish you all could’ve been there.”

“Don’t worry, Y/n/n,” Bradley patted her shoulder, “We’ll be there in Paris.”

“That’s quite a bit away, Roo.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “but there’s no harm in planning now.”

“Let’s let the woman rest before kicking her training mode into gear,” Javy teased, earning a playful nudge from his girlfriend. Together they got her bags and headed straight for The Hard Deck. They drinked, they danced. Javy and Y/n had a rematch of their pool game.

“This feels a bit like deja vu,” she smirked, chalking up her cue. Javy winked, puckering his lips in an air kiss causing her to laugh.

For a week Y/n stayed in San Diego before flying home to Hawaii with Javy. Again she was greeted at the airport by her family and friends she’d grown up with. The local news station was present, students from schools wanting to join in on the celebration. It felt amazing to be home after two weeks away.

They settled in at her Honolulu home, finding the perfect place to display her medal and ordered take out since neither was in the mood to cook after a 6 ½ hour flight. Once finished with dinner Y/n gave her boyfriend a knowing look, “Wanna watch the sunset?”

She didn’t mean sitting on her porch or even the sand. No, she meant taking the boards and laying out on the sea as the calm surface of the water kept them afloat.

Javy agreed, rushing to get his swim trunks on while she put on a swimsuit. Grabbing their boards they locked up the house and jogged the quarter of a mile to the beach, paddling out to get a front row seat of the descending sun. Colors of bright orange and pink painted the sky. A beautiful contrast to the deep blues of the ocean.

“Is this heaven?” He whispered, finding her eyes staring back at him from where her cheek pressed to the board. All the love conveying in the simple look. And with her gentle words, Javy felt all the worry and unease he ever experienced lift from his soul.

“More like paradise.”

……………….

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

#Spotify #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy machado fluff #Javy Machado x y/n #coyote imagine #coyote x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fluff #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #tgm x reader #athlete!reader #surfer!reader

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 month

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Long post about personal history that's come up in my life this week. Trigger warning for a bunch of shit, sexual harassment and misogyny. This one is really just for me, writing it down makes me feel better and posting it makes me feel better. I actually won this one, and it's a good thing, but there are so many years of history that I had to write some shit down to keep it all straight.

I did some proper cancel culture last weekend. Genuine, textbook cancel culture. The kind of thing you hear about on podcasts. The kind of thing you may literally be able to hear about on a podcast soon – I mean not “you” as in anyone reading this unless you happen to subscribe to any of the small local MMA-focused bro podcasts to which he might take the story – but still, I wouldn’t be surprised if we hear about this getting out there. It had all the tenants of cancel culture: bringing back some shit from more than ten years ago, deciding a vague non-apology isn’t good enough, applying our own subjective view of morality even to something that was technically legally okay. I’ve been oscillating for a week between feeling terrible because of all the shit this brought back, and actually quite enjoying the fact that I got to win this time, for once. And then feeling bad about that, because that’s what they say about us, isn’t it? That people are perpetrating cancel culture just because it feels good to have an outlet for their anger and they want someone to suffer, not because it’s the best thing for the affected community. The former is actually a bit true in this case, but by coincidence, it’s also the best thing for the affected community. I have swallowed my anger so many times in the last twenty years because I was trying to do what’s right, in a rare instance where what feels best is also the best thing to do, can I be allowed to enjoy it?

It's not just that, weirdly a number of interconnected things have come up at the same time in the last couple of weeks. I’ve been reading through some of my old stuff. I have everything written down. I have a Word document on my hard drive that’s nearly 2,000 pages long, and chronicles my experience in the sport of wrestling from 2006 to 2018 (I’ve got stuff from 2004-2006 and 2018-2020 written in other places). It’s mostly just me writing the stories of what happened, but it also includes pictures, and copy-pasting of email chains and other documents so they wouldn’t get lost. I didn’t write it at the time because I thought it would ever matter, it just made me feel better to know I had all these thoughts and stories written down (in case this blog has not already made it clear that I am a person who feels better if everything is written down). But this week had made me glad I did it, because some questions have come up about timelines and what really happened all those years ago, and I’m able to pull up not just notes I wrote at the time, but copies of emails with exact dates. Other people can’t rewrite history if I already wrote it.

Even before the cancel culture last weekend, I’d found myself reading through those old journals the previous week, because I felt like I was being asked to accept a version of history that didn’t feel right, and I wanted to check who was wrong. I even clicked through this blog to find some more recent history, because I remembered I’d written a couple of posts in the summer of 2021 where I’d tried to summarize some of the issues that seem so insular to the sport world. One after my best friend’s birthday party, which was the first significant social thing I did after lockdowns, and one during the Tokyo Olympics, when the gymnast Simone Biles had just pulled out of the tournament due to mental health issues, and it sparked this big discussion about mental health in sports.

I’ve got an update to some of those. My old teammate that I mentioned at the end, who won in Rio and was about to compete in Tokyo, lost her only match there. Everyone in the country, as I’d suspected, immediately started talking about how she was always overrated. She spent a few more years doing occasional competitions that slowly tapered off, and just this month, formally announced her retirement. She had her retirement event in her hometown, which is of course my hometown, and I went to it last night (well, I went to the social thing afterward, I couldn’t bring myself to do the actual ceremony with that level of polite company), and I didn’t drink even though it was at a bar, and she was very drunk and gave me a hug and told me how happy she was that I’m still around after all these years since we trained together as teenagers, and it was lovely. In other updates from that post, my other former teammate and long-term to whom I gave the nickname Nikolai in there, refused to attend the event because he’s decided he’s “not a fan” of hers (for vaguely-to-overtly misogynistic reasons), and has been telling our teenage male athletes that Andrew Tate’s all right actually and people are too quick to dismiss thinkers like that. I recently made a different post that referenced a longtime friend of mine who recently got into Andrew Tate, and I just want people to know that those are not the same person. That’s happened more than once.

I wrote about this girl whom I named Josie in that post, which is weird, because I barely knew who Josie Long was in August 2021. I’d seen her on a few panel shows and liked her a lot, but hadn’t actually gotten into her stand-up or anything. I think I’d just recently happened to come across an article about how Josie Long, that woman I really liked from that one Catsdown episode, started comedy very young and was an immediate prodigy but also faced backlash that was difficult to deal with when so young, I was writing a post in which I was giving privacy-protecting nicknames to people I know and wanted one for the girl I knew who had way too much talent way too young and it overwhelmed her, and I went with that.

Anyway, I wrote about this teenage girl from my team who got exploited by terrible abusive coaches from other teams and driven out of the sport, only to come back years later, older and wiser and much much more jaded. I think I only vaguely referenced the fact that, to be fair, she didn’t exactly have a perfect experience on my own team. Due to her experience with an adult man here.

For the privacy-protecting purposes of this post, I’m going to call him Louis, entirely because I just read an article about that new-ish Louis CK documentary, so that’s the name that comes to mind when I think about men who do horrible sex things that they defend with “but it wasn’t technically illegal”.

I’ve known Louis at least a bit since 2005, when I joined our local wrestling club, and he was an occasional member, though he was a couple of years old and a lot bigger than me so we stuck to different sides of the practice room and I didn’t really know him. I first properly met him at the 2007 National Championships, when I was one of the only two girls on our team, both girls were 16, and we shared a hotel room. He and his brother knocked on our door, and my friend/female teammate let them in, even though we barely knew them, beyond the fact that they were competing at this tournament for the same team as us and in the age group above ours. They were both drunk. Louis offered me a beer and I declined, because despite my problems with alcohol as an adult, I never drank underage. He offered my female friend a beer and she took it, but drank very slowly. Throughout the night, he kept encouraging her to drink faster, clearly trying to get her drunk.

He then sat down on the chair in our hotel room and we made awkward conversation, and I don’t remember all of it, but I definitely remember when he started complaining about how we had it easier because the female divisions had fewer people than the male divisions (due to the sport being overwhelmingly male-dominated in 2007 – it’s still male-dominated today, but was much, much more so then), so we didn’t have to win as many matches to get a medal. He then expanded into saying there’s no point to women’s wrestling anyway because girls aren’t as tough so their matches aren’t as competitive or interesting to watch, and he told my friend she should stop competing because it’ll hurt her chances of getting a boyfriend. Eventually he and his brother got up and just left (I was too naïve to understand at the time that clearly what happened was they were hoping we’d sleep with them – or more accurately, Louis was hoping my very conventionally attractive friend would sleep with him and his brother was presumably there to distract me – and eventually my friend made it clear that she wanted to just go to bed so they gave up). I didn’t say a word the whole night. I just sat on my hotel bed, furious, feeling like anything I could say would be speaking out of turn, and no matter how angry I was, I had to be good and keep my mouth shut.

But I didn’t just forget what had happened. Just after that tournament, our club started to change significantly. Basically a new coach took it over and pissed most people off so much that they quit, so it became much smaller and more structured. It also started to have a more clear designation for its small core of the most competitive athletes, and that core included both Louis and I, so he was no longer someone I occasionally saw across a practice room, he was someone I encountered directly at practice five nights a week.

I hated him quietly, as every time I saw him I remember how he made me feel in that hotel room. Then after practice, I’d complain to my friend about him – my male best friend, who’s a wonderful person and my current roommate, we’ve been friends for all these years. But I remember, in 2007, him telling me I needed to try to get over my grudge. So Louis got drunk in a hotel room at a stressful tournament and said some dumb shit to a girl he wanted to impress. He’s my teammate, I need to stop holding onto these things forever. One time I did a drill with Louis and accidentally hit his chin and made his tongue bleed. I genuinely didn’t do it on purpose, but also, I didn’t apologize. My friend called me incredibly petty for that, which I probably was.

Eventually, that one night in the hotel faded into us just being teammates. There was enough other shit going on at the club for that one thing to not seem like such a big deal by comparison. We were all so consumed by this pressure cooker situation, in which Louis and I often were on the same side – us and the rest of the athletes vs. a horrible abusive coach – that I did sort of let it go. We went through some shit together. He was the coach’s golden boy, one of our most successful competitive athletes. For nationals in 2008, our coach forced him to cut nearly 15 kilos to avoid a guy he couldn’t beat at the higher weight class because a gold medal could get funding for our team, and he almost put himself in the hospital with the effort to make the weight. I remember he disappeared before my eyes, showing up to practice smaller and smaller every night until there was barely any of him left. At the tournament, he did make the weight, but lost to an inferior athlete because he was so physically depleted from the weight cut. I wasn’t there, but I heard from friends who were that after he lost his match, our coach yelled at him in front of everyone for not trying hard enough, and he was later seen crying in the hallway. Some dumb shit he’d said a year before didn’t seem to matter so much after that.

Not all my memories of back when Louis and I were teenage teammates involve him getting smaller. For example, there was the day that my best friend missed a week of practice for university midterms, came back, did a match with Louis, and still won. The coach berated Louis in front of the whole team for not being good enough, as he’d lost to a guy who hadn’t even been training all week. The next week, I worked with Louis in a warm-up drill, I put a hand on his bicep for the drill, and immediately thought – what the fuck? I touched this same bicep four days ago, and I did not feel like this. How did this double in size over a weekend? Of course, a month later he went to the coach to admit that in his desperation to avoid losing to my friend in practice anymore, he’d been taking some “all natural supplements” that he was a bit worried might come up if he got selected for drug testing at competitions. Our coach took one look at the supplements, said those are fucking steroids, and then the entire team got a lecture followed by extra workouts as collective punishment for the dumb decision by this one guy. Also, this incident triggered a massive email chain of coaches debating what to do, leading a meeting of all the coaches in the city to debate the dumb decision made by this one guy, and I have copies of that email chain, even though I shouldn’t know about that, because even at the age of 17, I had my ways of accessing things I wasn’t supposed to (basically I had a guy bootleg a coaches’ meeting for me).

We all graduated high school. Our horrible coach left town in 2009. My best friend and I took over in sort of assistant coaching roles at first, moving into being the main people running the club by 2012. Louis spent several years bouncing from room to room; he’d go train with bigger teams in other cities, then come home and train in our room for a while, then go off somewhere else. We heard rumours of him pissing people off on another team because he’d become a hardcore Christian and whenever he made a mistake, he’d say “Only God can judge me.” But he also won some national medals and got on the international team a couple of times, he beat up some top athletes and started branching into MMA, he was undeniably talented. I would never have called him a good friend, but we got along okay when he was in town.

For the 2012-2013 season, he ended up living back at home, and training with our team fulltime. He was 24 by then. I was 22, and was coaching with my best friend. And the girl I called Josie, one of the only two girls in the first generation of athletes I ever coaches (the sport was still pretty fucking male-dominated by 2012), this blindingly talented prodigy athlete who looked up to me and who I’d do anything for, was 15. Well, she was fifteen until one day in July 2012, when she turned sixteen, and on that exact day, Louis decided to ask her out on a date. He’d been talking to her a lot in the few months before her birthday, and asked her out right on that day. Technically legal.

She said yes. At first they tried to keep the relationship a secret, though they were very bad at it, and for a while there was this awkward situation where everyone could see they were together but we had to pretend we didn’t. I was so worried about her, and I finally took her aside to ask about it. She admitted that she had been together with Louis since her sixteenth birthday, but they were very happy together, and even if people thought the age group was weird, they just didn’t understand. I was horrified, but I also knew she was the most stubborn teenager I’d ever met, and if I told her “I want to stop you from dating your boyfriend,” that would just upset her. I was a role model to her. Old enough to seem like an adult to her and be expected to act like one, too fucking young to know what to do.

We brought it to the coaches, and for the second time in five years, all the coaches on my team had to have a fucking meeting about the fucking behaviour of this fucking guy. It turned out that her parents were already aware, and they did not like it, but they also knew that if they tried to forbid her from seeing Louis, she’d just run away and move in with him. So they allowed it, because they had no choice.

As coaches, we said there wasn’t much else we could do. We had a duty to inform her parents, but they already knew. It wasn’t against the law. Our team, at the time, didn’t technically have rules against it (that has been fixed many times over since then, I have personally written bylaws and a code of conduct to make sure no one gets away with this again, but we didn’t have it then), so we had no grounds to kick him out. All that came out of it was one of the other coaches had a stern talk with Louis about how this meant he was not allowed to take on a coaching role in any capacity. Because where we are, the age of consent is 16, unless the older person is in a position of power, in which case it’s 18. But he was just another athlete on the team, not a coach, so technically no position of power.

They were together for eight months. After eight months, she broke up with him, to the relief of myself and the other coaches. I didn’t initially hear a lot about the breakup, just that it had happened. But a few weeks later, she asked to speak to me in private after practice. She told me that Louis had been texting her and calling her, saying horrible emotionally abusive things (ranging from calling her horrible vulgar names and threatening to hurt her, to begging her to take him back and threatening to hurt himself). She’d told him she wanted no contact with him – besides having to see him at practice but she didn’t want to interact with him there – and she’d blocked him. He’d kept calling from other numbers. One night, he showed up at her house late at night. She lived in a very rural area, and that could have been dangerous if her parents hadn’t been home, as there would be no one nearby and he’s a lot bigger than her and a trained fighter. Luckily her parents were there, and they threated to call the cops, and luckily that got him to leave. But after that, her mother started attending every practice with her. Her mother would sit on the sidelines to watch practice, and if she had to go to the bathroom or something, her mother would go with her. To make sure she was never alone at practice, and Louis would never get the chance to corner her somewhere.

She told me all this in private, and I was horrified. I had just become a proper coach of this club, was trying to gather up the ashes of the dumpster fire it had been and mould them into what I wanted, and I was running a team where a teenage girl could not feel safe while stepping into a hallway by herself. I told her that I would protect her privacy, but I also needed to protect her safety, and asked if I could have permission to share this with the other coaches. She said yes, she wanted them to know, because she felt scared, but didn’t feel comfortable telling them herself, she only felt comfortable coming to me.

So I went to the other coaches, told them everything, said we need to kick this guy out. There were four main people running the team at the time: me, my best friend, and two older guys. My friend and I wanted to get rid of him, the older guys said we have to consider the many complicating factors in this situation. He hasn’t technically done anything illegal. We had a whole email exchange to discuss this, and of course I still have copies of the emails in my journals, so here’s a quote from one of the older guys’ emails: “The sport of wrestling and the dynamic in wrestling rooms have changed significantly with the inclusion of women. The inclusion and co-mingling has enhanced the sport in many ways, but has also brought other challenges that come from men and women sharing space. Relationships (intimate ones) are inevitable.” This was in 2013. Women were fairly new to the sport when I started, in 2004. They were not so new to the sport by 2013 that it’s reasonable to say sexual harassment happens because this is what happens when you try some risky experiment like co-mingling men and women (I mean, obviously that wouldn’t be a reasonable thing to say in 2004 either). And the coach who said that was one of the good ones. One of the nice members of the old boys club. I saw him last night at the social event, we hugged and had a nice catch-up. Because he’s better than most. But I do have his email from 2013 still saved on my computer.

The club was run by consensus then, and we were locked two vs. two (my friend and I wanted him out, the other two didn’t), so we compromised. My best friend had a “serious talk” with Louis, in which he said that Louis is not allowed to ever contact that girl again – and he’s also not allowed to try anything with any other girls on the team – or else he’ll be kicked out for good. Louis apologized (to my friend), said he knew he’d gone too far when he showed up at her house, he just did it because he was so upset about her “throwing away a good relationship”, but wouldn’t do that again, he was done with it. I didn’t like it, but we all moved on.

Until a couple of months later, when I heard from another high school kid that he’d been messaging her again, from a different number since she had his blocked, asking for another chance. And he’d been talking to the high school boys about it, which is also inappropriate, talking to some teenagers about his efforts to get another teenager to fuck him. Oh, and he’d asked a different high school girl out on a date, and she’d declined. And he’d made a comment to the teenage boy about a thirteen-year-old girl on the team being attractive, and asked if she was single, though apparently he “assumed she was older” and backed off when told how young she was.

The teenage boy told my friend and I all this during a road trip to a tournament, and even showed us his message chain with Louis, which all backed up what he’d said. I remember sitting in the truck, reading the messages, seeing red. I could barely breathe I was so angry. I said this has to be it. He had his warning, he broke it. My friend said he agreed with me, but we have to bring it back to the other coaches for discussion before we can do anything.

That’s what we were planning to do. But we got back from the tournament late at night, and practice was early the next morning. My friend got called into work, so I ran that practice alone. Louis showed up. Being in the room with him made me furious. I ran the whole practice professionally, and pretty much ignored him. I should have just gone home and sent another message to the email chain, the proper way to deal with things. But I couldn’t help. After practice, I went to him outside the change room and said I’d heard he’d been in contact with her again.

Louis turned around and got right in my face, and instantly said, “You can fuck off with that.” I told him he’d already been warned and he’d never be allowed back in the room again. He started yelling, said it’s not my business and to stay out of it. I said it is my business and I will personally make sure he never, ever comes near a girl on my team again. He told me to go fuck myself a couple more times, looked like he was going to hit me, didn’t hit me, went into the change room and closed to door.

I went home and sent the email. The two older coaches still didn’t want to kick him out permanently. We went back and forth a bit. I was so fucking angry that I couldn’t personally participate in the email chain much, I’d have ended up saying something I’d regret. I mostly just edited emails written by friend, which were professional and respectable, because that’s been our dynamic from the start. I’m angry and hold grudges and can’t let go when I hate someone, he’s professional and respectable and diplomatic and actually gets us somewhere. We work together for a common goal. He once gave me a pen for my birthday with my nickname “loose cannon” engraved on it.

The decision was for my friend to have another talk with Louis, another warning. But this one a lot harsher. He did that, and while he didn’t technically kick Louis out, he did make it very fucking clear that Louis wasn’t wanted. Clear enough so he finally got the message. Louis didn’t came back to our practices after that.

That’s not the last we’ve heard about him or anything. He went back to moving around, trained in some other rooms. We heard a few rumours, with varying degrees of reliability (though at least a couple from very reliable sources so are probably true), of him getting in trouble in other rooms for issues related to making the female athletes uncomfortable. He kept competing off and on until about 2016. I think he even made the national team again in 2015. His face was sure on enough of the national organization’s promo materials for a while. He wore their uniform. I saw him get interviewed about his success stories. I also saw him get beat up at a couple of tournaments, and I enjoyed that. I was in rooms with him when we attended the same events, but I had no more direct contact with him.

In 2021, the girl he’d dated moved back to town. We talked to her about all the shit that went down when she was a teenager, and her view on it was basically “I didn’t realize at the time because I was too young to see who was exploiting me, but I get now that you two were trying to protect me and you were right about it all.” She said she now sees that Louis was a predator all along, not just for the way he harassed her after the breakup, but for dating someone so young in the first place. She used the word “pedophile” to describe him, and said she hopes we never, ever let him back in the room again. We assured her that we never would. We’d restructured the team a lot since 2013, we’d written up codes of conduct and formal power structures so we could just bar people if we wanted to, no need to convince some old men to agree with us first. She said that was good. She said he abused her when she was young and we should never let him back.

That’s where things were in those posts I wrote in 2021, and rereading them reminded me that in one of them, I wrote that I would never, ever let him into my practice room. But when I wrote that, I didn’t expect it to ever actually be an issue. I hadn’t even seen him in person in years.

Last weekend – as in, early March 2024 – he walked into our practice room. I wasn’t there, as I haven’t been in the practice room in months, as I’ve been taking a step back from the sport to decide what I want to do, which is a whole other thing. But my best friend was there, running the practice. And he lives with me now, so of course he came home and told me about it. How Louis just walked into the room, and almost no one even recognized him, because it’s been so long and the people have changed over. Only a couple of people remembered him. No one there knew the full story.

My friend didn’t want to make a scene and kick him out publicly, so he just let Louis stay and do the practice. After practice, Louis went to my friend and said he knows he did some fucked up stuff ten years ago, but he’s sorry for that and he’s changed now – he even has a wife and kids now and he’s a different person – and he appreciates my friend being willing to put the past behind us and let him train there again. My friend didn’t say much, because he wasn’t willing to put anything behind us, but also didn’t want to make any official decisions in the moment.

He messaged the coaches’ group chat, not to ask for permission this time (he now has the power to just kick a guy out unilaterally if he wants to), but to find out what people think. Those two older guys from 2013 are long gone from our coaching staff (last night was the first time I saw that older guy in years, and we did have a nice catch-up), it’s now a lot of younger and more progressive people. The coaches all agreed that he shouldn’t be allowed back.

It’s not as simple as just being about us, though. Our club now trains in an MMA gym, we rent space from the gym owner five times a week for our practices. It turns out that Louis had actually gone to the gym’s owner/MMA coach to try to get a deal where he could teach some MMA in exchange for a free place to train, and to try competing in MMA again. The fact that our club was also there was just a bonus to him.

We wrote an email to the gym owner (by which I mean, I wrote an email and we put my friend’s name on it because he’s the respectable face), outlining our history with Louis and explaining that because of this history, we don’t want him at our wrestling practices. Of course we can’t stop him from getting involved in the gym, but we need to draw clear boundaries around our own time, and want him to be aware of the issue.

I was worried we’d have a fight on our hands, because that MMA gym owner is not the world’s greatest champion of feminism (that is and understatement, but no need to get into all that right now). But to our surprise, he came down on our side. He said he has women in his MMA program, and he wouldn’t want to risk alienating them by having this guy back. So he met up with Louis on Sunday, and said that actually, the deal’s off, and Louis needs to find somewhere else to train.

When confronted with the stuff from his past, Louis replied that he did do it, so the facts are not in dispute. However, Louis re-iterated that nothing he did was illegal (so he hasn’t changed that much), and apparently, used the phrase “Only God can judge me”, which is just wildly inaccurate. You can’t do that. You can opt into being judged by God, you can’t opt out of being judged by everyone else.

Then, Louis told the gym owner that my friend can’t be trusted as a source on this, because he slept with me at a tournament once, and he was my coach, so he also doesn’t have clean hands on the issue of a dicey past of sleeping with athletes. Which is an incredible thing to say. Fucking incredible. Because that was a real rumour, I remember when it went around. I just did not think that in 2024, I would have to be having the argument again about whether I had sex in a hotel room in Saskatchewan in 2008. It should not matter whether I had sex in a hotel room in Saskatchewan in 2008.

Having said that, I would just like to be clear: I didn’t have sex in a hotel room in Saskatchewan in 2008. What happened in 2008 was I was the only girl on a team with a horrible abusive coach (by then, my female teammate who’d go on win the Olympics had moved away to a much bigger team, my female teammate who’d been at nationals with me the year before and Louis tried to get drunk there had quit the sport, no other girls had joined), but it also meant a huge amount to me to think of that team as my family and my community and my identity. When the national championships came around, and they were halfway across the country, we all booked out own flights, but the coach booked a room for him and another room for the male athletes to share. He told me I’d have to book a room by myself because a girl couldn’t room with the boys.

I got – I’ll admit – disproportionately upset. I’d been excluded my whole life before joining the sport, I got so deeply immersed in the sport because it was the first place I felt like I was included, and I was pretty sensitive to feeling excluded again. I asked him why I couldn’t room with my male teammates. There were three of them and one of me, and we were all between the ages of 15 and 17 (I was 17). What was going to happen? We’re not going to have sex in a room with four people in it (to be honest, since then I’ve gotten older and learned that people have sex in hotel rooms at tournaments that have for people in them all the time, but I didn’t know that then).

My best friend was twenty years old at the time. He’s three years older than me, he’d been out of high school for a few years, while I was in my last year of high school. He and I went to high school together, and after he graduated, he came back to coach my high school team. So he and I were teammates at the local club, but I also had school practices a couple of times a week, where my friend was technically my coach. Though those practices were mainly just collaborative things where we’d train together for a couple of hours and go home.

My friend was too old to compete at those national championships – and anyway he’d quit competing after high school – but he was flying out there anyway because I desperately didn’t want to have our actual coach in my corners there, so he said he’d come along and sit in my corners instead. He also didn’t have his room booked by the club, since he wasn’t an official coach of our club and he wasn’t going as a competitive athlete. So our coach told him to book his own room too.

At this point, we learned that the tournament’s host hotel, where the club coach had booked himself and the male athletes, had filled up anyway. We found a cheaper hotel nearby, and went to book separate rooms. But I thought this was stupid. One thing I loved about tournaments was traveling together, feeling like part of a group, socializing. Also, I thought it wasn’t fair that the boys each only had to pay for a fraction of a room cost, while I’d have to pay for an entire room to myself. So I asked the coach if I could room with my friend. He said no, because I was a girl and he was a boy, and also he was my coach, and it’s against the constitution and the code of conduct.

I then went home, went online, and downloaded the constitution, bylaws, codes of ethics, and codes of conduct from both our provincial and national sporting organizations. I read through every single page of every single document, which came to nearly 200 pages, because that’s the kind of 17-year-old I was. I read through every single one just so I could truthfully say I had checked, and there is nothing in any of them that says men and women are not allowed to room together at a tournament.

I went back to the coach and told him this, and he went off on me, telling me I was being disrespectful by bringing this up and I need to just do as I’m told an stop being difficult. So I told him that he had come up here from a bigger team and ruined my wrestling club, that he made practices miserable and was engaging in unsafe practices. And then he yelled at me some more. All this took place in the hallway outside the practice room, while several people were trapped inside, not able to walk past us in the middle of that. I told him it was his fault another teammate of mine had left town, which was only partly true (but it was partly true). He accused me of just wanting to stay in that hotel room so I could have sex with my friend, and I said if staying in a hotel room together is proof that people are going to have sex with each other, then what about the many times that he had stayed in hotel rooms with the teenage boys that he coaches. He said that’s different, and I said we can’t know that for sure because some people are gay, and he said he has a wife and a kid on the way so obviously he’s not gay (fun fact, a few months later I was invited to that kid’s baby shower for some fucking reason, and for some even stranger reason I went, one of the most awkward afternoons of my life, there were seven women there including Louis’ mother, and yesterday at the 2024 national championships my old coach was there coaching his daughter whose baby shower I went to, she’s now 16, a girl from my team beat her in her first match, time is fucking weird). And I said sometimes gay men have wives and kids, and that’s not the point it’s about the principle, and he said I don’t understand what wrestling is, and I said he’d ruined my team again, and eventually we went home. I think that was what originally got me that “loose cannon” nickname.

Anyway, my friend and I ended up booking separate rooms at that separate hotel. But that hotel was still full of coaches, athletes, and refs who were in town for the tournament. So my friend said that, to be on the safe side, we should make sure we never go into each other’s rooms, even though it’s totally normal at tournaments for teammates to hang out in each other’s hotel rooms. The night before I competed I started panicking because I was afraid of not doing well enough, and my friend sat with me in the hallway to comfort me, just o make absolutely sure that no one could say they saw either of us go into the same hotel room. Because we didn’t want rumours. (Amazingly, he and I now live together in a two-bedroom house and manage to not have sex with each other every single night, because actually, introducing a woman into a situation does not always mean everything will just immediately be reduced to being about sex.)

And yet, later on, we were told that my club coach had been going around telling people that, even though we’d claimed to have booked separate rooms, my friend and I had secretly slept in the same room and had sex during that tournament. Which is such a stupid fucking rumour, because, I mean it shouldn’t matter, but I really didn’t. Not just with him, I didn’t with anyone. I didn’t even know until I was older that basically everyone else was using tournament hotels as a way to hook up with people from other teams and/or their own teams, I am probably the only person I know who hasn’t ever done that at a tournament. And it’s fine, I’m glad everyone’s having a good time, it’s just really not a thing I did.

And yet. And yet, in the Year of Our Lord 2024, I am finding myself contending with the accusation that I had sex in a hotel room in Saskatchewan in 2008. Because Louis was our coach’s golden boy then, so of course our coach told him this rumour, probably immediately after making it up. And apparently, Louis has been holding onto it for half my lifetime, just to throw it back at us to try to defend himself in a “Well it’s not like anyone has clean hands way” when we tried to cancel him. And I’m so fucking angry at him, and I hate him so much.

But the thing is, we won this time. The gym owner repeated this conversation to my friend, my friend told him the situation, the gym owner said yeah, Louis’ behaviour in their conversation came off as weird and aggressive, and he doesn’t want that guy around. So he messaged Louis to say he’s not welcome at the gym at all – not just in our practices, but in the MMA or any other part of the gym. Louis sent my friend some long and angry text messages about betrayal and shit like that, and how he slept with me in 2008 so there are no clean hands, and only God can judge him. But it didn’t matter, because he’s been banned, and that’s it. We won this time.

I think this might be my first time committing such a clear-cut case of cancel culture. I’ve gotten rid of people before, but doing it over something from ten years ago feels particularly cancel culture-ish. And God, I am such a huge fucking fan of cancel culture. I am so very grateful for cancel culture. I feel so much for all the teenage girls who might not have been traumatized if we’d had a little more cancel culture ten or fifteen years ago. But we have it now, and it’s something. For this Louis, at least. The actual Louis CK recently won a Grammy.

As if he tried to bring up a rumour about me from 2008. If he really wants to start dragging up ancient history, I could pull out all those emails from the time when our team's entire staff had to have a meeting because my friend beat him so badly that he started taking steroids. This is why it pays to write shit down and save everything.

It does feel good, I can’t pretend it doesn’t. And then I feel like that person that the anti-cancel culture people think I am, just a bitter feminist using cancel culture to take out my anger on men, to punish them because I’ve been hurt before and enjoying seeing them hurt. But all that is just incidental to the fact that this is, genuinely, the best thing for the team. He said in those texts this week that the relationship was legal, that the apology was for harassing her post-breakup, but he made it clear the he still thinks dating the 16-year-old was fine. It’s not safe to have a guy who thinks that around our teenage girls. And now we have the power to stop him. And I’ve spent so much of my life not having any power and now I’m 33 and I could do this one thing. I could write an email and put my friend’s name on it and send it to a gym owner, and in doing so, get a guy banned.

There is a genuine chance that he goes on a local MMA bro podcast to complain about cancel culture after this. And I know he's just going to go to a different gym and do the same shit there. But not here, at least.

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