Mand was hopping from foot to foot to stave off the early morning chill – I told her to put some trackies on, the sun yet to descend into the valley with its warming effect.

“Give over Mand, you’re making me want the loo.”
“It’s cold!”

Anyone would be wearing just a cheer uniform at seven o’clock in the morning.

“The bus’ll be here soon.”
“I thought the forecast was like mid twenties.”
“Yeah but it has to warm up.”
“I guess,” she allowed.
“This looks like it,” I suggested when a moment later I spotted a coach coming down from Rech.

Phantasialand , location of today's jamboree, is of course not that far up the road at Bruhl – when I've been before it’s usually been on the train via Bonn. On the coach though you approach from the autobahn, we were at the coach park before I realised we were even close. Why such an early start? Well stuff starts at nine, we have to get everyone registered and ready to go and it’s nearly eight already.

“I suggest you leave anything you don’t need on the bus, it’ll be locked up if Stefan isn’t here,” Han suggested as everyone started making unloading moves.
“What about money and stuff?” Lisse queried.
“Can we come out?” Susan added.
“I think so,” Han replied, “as for money you shouldn’t need any during the competition, either Gab or myself will cover anything.”
The joys of being the coach!

It was another five minutes before our little squad joined the other attendees queuing for entry to the park. I was reminded once again of the competition in the States, this is a much bigger affair than our first competition down Koblenz way. You could almost smell the er, excitement emanating from the almost exclusively female crowd waiting their turn to be processed.

With typical Germanic efficiency the queue moved forward, I lie, we shuffled along for nearly thirty minutes before we gained entry to the park – it was much quicker when we came to the Cosplay thing. Of course our event isn’t in the bit with the rides and stuff, rather we joined the flow towards the numerous marquees covering a big lump of the open parkland where they hold all sorts of events. Well you can hardly hold a David Hasselfoff concert on a roller coaster can you?

I let Han lead the way as I got lumped with lugging the trolley with our supplies and kit – we certainly weren’t the only ones using such quaint transport – beats lugging it by hand.

“Where’re we headed?”
“Tent five, she said it was at the far end,” Hannah replied dodging a flock of what I'd guess were six year old's waving poms and squealing.
“I've never seen so much leg,” Mand stated.
“Or hair ribbons,” P added from the other side.

Our squad hadn’t yet done their hair, it’s not like an elastic and bit of ribbon take a lot of doing. Everyone was however sporting the same bright pink nail varnish, faces and lippy will get done once we find our allocated spot and base of operations. Han veered off the path and a minute later we were inside ‘tent 5’.

I've been here before of course, the whole waiting for your turn thing, it’s different to bike racing, you’ve got all the music, the gabble of hundreds of young women, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. Oh I know I'm not on the squad taking part but in some ways being the coach is worse.

“Remember, smile,” I told them when we were called forward, “no one wants to watch miserable cheers.”
I crossed my fingers as they headed out into the dance space, let’s face it there’s nothing I can do now. I felt a body move close beside me.
“They’ll do alright,” Han stated.
“Yeah,” I allowed showing her my crossed digits.

I hadn’t seen any of the competition, oh I'd heard cheering and clapping but in this game that’s not always much of an indicator. The All Star Cheer took their places, Pia signalled they were ready and a moment later the PA issued forth the introduction to Robert Palmer’s Addicted to Love and the game, so to speak, was afoot.

All the way through the routine I'd been doing my own miniature version, counting the steps, doing little hand motions, only just resisting the urge to copy the final Folly style cartwheel to splits landing. There was plenty of clapping, a bit of cheering (well from me and Han at any rate) and it was over.

“Well done, girls,” Hannah told our team as they left the arena.
“We should progress,” I advised with fingers still crossed.
“You alright, Kris?” Han enquired.
“Bit heavy on that last landing, it’s nothing.”
“I'll decide that,” my co coach told her as we headed for our waiting area.

“So?” I asked a few minutes later.
“Nothing’s broken but it’s already swelling.”
“Bum.”
“I'll be alright after a rest,” Kris insisted.

Looks like we’re scuppered if we go forward, we haven’t got any spares today for one reason or another, looks like we’ll have to scratch.

“Let’s see if we get through before making any decisions eh, coach?” Hannah hinted with a suggestion we need to talk.
“Er yeah, keep hydrated, we don’t want any cramp. Er we’ll just go see if we’re going forward.”

I joined my colleague outside in the now warm sunshine, “It’s not good is it?”
“It’s definitely sprained, I can strap it up but at best she’ll favour it, worst...”
“Thought as much,” I sighed, “guess that's it then.”
“You know the routine,” Han stated.
“Well I did write it.”
“So you do it, take Kristin’s place.”
“Hardly!” I scoffed.
“Why not, you know the routine, I know you’ve been practising with them.”
“I don’t have a uniform.”
“Who says?”
“Dur,” I motioned to my shorts and cami, “not wearing it.”
“There’s a spare in the kit bag,” she informed me.
“It’s hardly fair on Kris.”
“And pulling out isn’t fair to any of them, come on, Gab,” she urged.
“We don’t even know if we’re going forward,” I pointed out.
“You doubt that?”
“Well no,” I agreed.
“So if we’ve got through you’ll do it?”
“If.”

Fifteen minutes later I was the subject of a mass makeover effort. ‘Luckily’ Mand’s nail ministrations last night meant my nails were already in team pink, clashing oh so slightly with my locks. We did have to pack Kris’s cheer shoes out a bit, she takes a size bigger than me – not surprising as she’s ten centimetres taller too. The first round results had been posted – I say results, they haven’t given scores just a single alphabetic list of squads going through to the next round.

“We’ve got about forty minutes,” Hannah advised.
“We should so practice that dismount,” Lisse suggested.
“Don’t want another twisted ankle,” Susan stated.
“Too right,” I agreed, “I'm racing tomorrow.”
“So am I,” Mand added.
“Best get to it then, there’s space outside,” Hannah told the assemblage.

My personal philosophy of not asking the girls to do anything I wouldn’t has come to haunt me.

I took my place and like the rest of the squad gave an affirmative nod to our ‘captain’ Pia, a moment later Mr Palmer started issuing over the speakers once more.

Ho-old and one and two and step – we’re off!

I've been through the routine so many times over the last few weeks but it’s not until you’re doing it for real that the adrenalin really gets pumping. Our presentation is a mix of very traditional pom waving and more exciting gymnastics and tumbling, none of the three or four high pyramid stuff – I don’t think that's really cheering more a team gymnastics display. Mand and Lisse boosted me and I went into the forward roll from which Kris did her ankle – thump!

I flexed my knees, a safe landing. A bit more set piece pom pom waving and it was into the cartwheel / splits finale. Oh of course it’s not your two handed primary school cartwheel, oh no, this is a no hand job – well we’re holding our poms still for the final flourish. P launched herself from beside me, my turn, push and twist and slide and wave.

The crowd were quite vocal, hollering, clapping and cheering– you don’t get this at road races! I think we all felt the same, a community feeling of everyone having done their best, we waited the required ten seconds then indulged in a squad hug in. Okay, we might not win but we’ve tried our best.

“We got time to eat?” Mand asked as we retreated to our gear.
“Probably,” Han replied, “if we’ve won anything the prize ceremony isn’t till four.”
“What time is it?” I asked, my wrist devoid of my timepiece for the routine.
“Er two thirty,” Hannah advised.
“I'll go fetch it,” miss hobble along suggested.

I didn’t say did I, we’ve each got vouchers for a packed lunch – it’s either that or spend actual money with the onsite catering.

“You can hardly walk,” I pointed out, “I'll go.”

Ever tried juggling a dozen packed lunches, assorted bits of fruit and bottles of fizzy water? I managed to scrounge a carrier bag and an empty fruit box to transport our ‘free’ lunch, returning to the All Star Cheer camp as they were concluding more leaping and hugging.

“We won!” Lisse greeted me.
“Like honourable mention type win?”
“Think like first place!” Hannah beamed taking the box off me.
“Really?”
I was pulled into a bone crushing hug, “You did it, Gaby Bond.”
“The team did it,” I corrected.
“We couldn’t’ve done it without you, Gab,” P told me.
“Like double that,” Kris added.

As usual at these things we got to reprise our routine during the prize presentation, yeah, first prize under eighteen large group, Kris got to collect the stupidly large and ornate trophy. We narrowly missed out on the best in show – sounds like a dog show doesn’t it, a semi professional squad who cheer for the Kӧln Crocodiles GFL team got that.

We trundled out of the park and back to our transport still on a high, not to sound big headed but I'm used to success, being part of this though is different. It’s usually just me winning, today it’s everyone in the squad.

“Good day?” Stefan, our driver enquired from his seat.

In reply Manda and Lisse shook the trophy high in the air.

“Only first place!” Susan advised him.
“You okay if we stop to eat on the way back, you’re included,” Hannah offered.
“Think I can manage that,” he agreed with a wink, “let’s get your trolley in the locker eh?”

And so instead of heading straight back to the Ahrtal we took a diversion through Bonn and onto the old Rhein side road. Han directed our driver to stop in Oberwinter at the Klosterstube, a pleasant bistro type place I've not been to before. She must’ve rung earlier as they were expecting us, after the tension of the competition we were ready to metaphorically at least, let our hair down.

Maddy Bell © 13.02.17