Sovetsky Sport. May 21, 1970. I decided to make the trip to Leninsk-Kuznetsky - to the "Mametyev Sports School," as it is known in gymnastics circles - after meeting and speaking with Innokenty Ivanovich himself during a December match between Olympic reserve teams. By that time, I had heard more than enough about Mametyev, and I had seen him many times at competitions. Opinions regarding him varied widely. Before my trip, I attempted to summarize the comments made by various people. The consensus went something like this: "Mametyev is the proponent of an extremely 'maximalist' approach to training gymnasts; he is a staunch advocate of early specialization; he is abrasive and acknowledges no authority; he acts like a 'petty prince in his own fiefdom' (that is to say, within his sports school); he is a poor coach; and, generally speaking, people like him need to be kept in check, for they are ruining our sport."
Such an extraordinary characterization - to put it mildly - would raise anyone's suspicions. Yet I had another entry in my notebook: "Mametyev has established a genuine gymnastics center in distant Siberia - one modeled after the facility in Voronezh. He is a fanatic about the sport; honest, selfless, and hot-tempered; he struggles to connect with people, yet he has proven his ability to train top-tier gymnasts - having produced several athletes for both the RSFSR and national teams." This was the opinion of others - an opinion that effectively negated the first.
And so, go figure, who is right and who is wrong? Which version of the truth reflects the true essence of the matter? Or perhaps there is a third? That is precisely what I was tasked with finding out.
"Welcome! Welcome!" Innokenty Ivanovich greeted me, his eyes crinkling with delight, and threw open the doors. I simply gasped: the gym reminded me of our own in Moscow - at the Palace of Sport (the gymnasts call it the 'cork hall') - only half the size. It featured brand-new Olympic-standard apparatuses, a pit filled with foam scraps beneath the high bar, overhead safety lines, and mirrors covering an entire wall.
"Well, what do you think? Pretty great?" Mametyev couldn't hide his smile. "It's a pity there's not much space, but we're building a larger gym. Come in, have a seat, take a look around..."
At thirty-nine and a half, Innokenty Mametyev is lean and possesses a youthful physique. His unruly mop of hair, deeply hollowed cheeks, and broad cheekbones bespeak an energetic and strong-willed nature. He walks briskly - almost running - and conducts a conversation with equal sharpness and abruptness, punctuating every phrase with a sweeping motion of his hand, as if slashing with a saber. "Work! We must work!" - he repeats these words everywhere: in the gym, at home during meetings with superiors; he is constantly in motion himself and compels others to move as well. At the sports school, his voice grows firmer, and his speech takes on a predominantly commanding tone - though this is directed mostly at the coaches; with the young athletes, he is gentler, sometimes even climbing onto the apparatus during training sessions to "build up some strength - otherwise, my reaction time for spotting gets dull."
And so we began discussing those coaches - those true devotees - whose life's purpose is to mold a champion. Mametyev is one such man. Yet his vision is on a far grander scale: "I want to establish the country's largest gymnastics center right here in Siberia - in my own city. And why not? I've been nurturing this dream for ten years, and now, at last, it is nearly within reach. Our girls and boys are Siberians - tough, sturdy stock; just look at the strength and drive they possess! All that's needed is to organize everything properly, build a powerhouse of a school, and feel that there is a genuine interest in what we are doing - and then everything will run like clockwork. After all, haven't we already produced several gymnasts for the national teams? We certainly have! And if we just keep working at it - keep scouting for talent - just imagine how rich in potential our region truly is..."
Indeed, some time ago Mametyev produced a crop of talent - V. Fogel, N. Duplyakova, T. Pavlova, G. Kharitonov, V. Dubs, A. Braun, and others. One would think that the leaders of the gymnastics world would have taken a keen, vital interest: just what kind of school is this in Leninsk-Kuznetsky, and how are things run there? But no. Innokenty Ivanovich speaks with bitterness, noting that the leadership offers no significant assistance. Therefore, I feel entitled to briefly recount Mametyev's methods, tell you about the sports school, and - while I'm at it - introduce its director; for Vladimir Georgievich Savinsky is an interesting man, a truly colorful figure.
There was a rumor - and the editorial office even received a letter - regarding Mametyev's alleged 'arbitrariness.' The talk was that Mametyev was supposedly firing coaches who didn't suit him. I assert that this is not the case. However, having set out to create a powerful hub for gymnastics, he is rallying around himself those who "have both the desire and the ability to work" He imposes very rigorous standards. Unsparing of himself, he is equally unsparing of others. Yet, when Mametyev sees people pouring all their energy into the common cause, he beams with delight like a child: ("Oh, what a facility manager we have in Nikolai Sapkin - he's pure gold! He runs the place so well: touches up the paint here, handles repairs there; he even built a set of parallel bars for the kids - can you imagine the sheer strength required? He hauled that heavy frame around all by himself and welded it together with a torch... And almost all our coaches are homegrown - they graduated from the Kemerovo Pedagogical Institute, or are still studying there. That's why we share a unified methodology - a true school of thought. We've gone through so many directors - some were completely ineffectual - but now we have Savinsky; we're going to be just fine...").
The director is the complete opposite of Mametyev. Calm and level-headed, he is consumed by his responsibilities; he reacts to events with restraint, keeping his emotions bottled up inside. Savinsky's experience and Mametyev's fervor helped them create "the Center." What exactly is it?
The sports school employs twenty-four (!) coaches. Fewer than half of them run gymnastics classes across four kindergartens, three primary schools, an orphanage, and a boarding school. In total, 683 boys and girls are involved in the gymnastics program. Just consider these figures: in a city with a population of 175,000, such an extensive network of gymnastics sections has been established!
You know, it's hard to recount just how much went into achieving all of this - how much effort and nervous energy were expended. It might seem that they have everything they need now, but even more is on the way: a new facility is currently under construction, and plans are in place to establish two hundred training groups. Savinsky recounted the battles they had to wage across various bureaucratic agencies when the sports school was being upgraded to specialized status. Not everyone grasped that, under these new operating conditions, their entire approach to the work would have to undergo a fundamental transformation. And even now, they remain in a state of constant anxiety: where are they to procure the equipment for the facility currently being built? The funds have been allocated - yet the apparatuses themselves are nowhere to be found.
Building a center of this kind is an extraordinarily difficult undertaking. The key lies in personnel selection - and the cohesive Savinsky-Mametyev tandem unfailingly secures exactly what they need. Mametyev has, of course, earned immense authority; yet, naturally, he cannot dismiss - or carry out a dismissal - by his sole decision alone.
A proponent of early specialization, Mametyev believes that purity of form is paramount, while difficulty is secondary. Unfortunately, thus far few have taken an interest in the nature of these kindergarten gymnastics groups - or how their classes are actually conducted. I am convinced that this represents a vast field of research for scholars. I visited several kindergartens: five-year-olds perform elementary exercises, engage in choreography, learn to hold plank positions and walk along balance benches, and play relay games. And yet, people used to say that Mametyev practically forced the children to climb on the apparatus. Upon entering the school, the children possess excellent posture and agile body control, and they join specialized sections right from the very first grade. So, there is nothing inherently wrong with this early specialization - provided, of course, that one ensures certain coaches do not attempt to accelerate the natural course of a child's development.
The entire training program for the youngest children, as well as the competition rules, were developed collectively by the coaching council. First-graders, for instance, compete in such 'events' as headstands, splits, bridges, and balance exercises. Naturally, there are no exercises performed on apparatuses. I believe that specialists should study the experience of this sports school and offer their assistance - both through advice and practical support - in these experimental endeavors.
Quite by chance, during a conversation, I heard Mametyev remark: "That girl over there - do you see her? She's in the 'penal battalion' right now. She's a decent gymnast, but she's gotten lazy." He added: "She's a slacker, a malingerer - but never mind, she'll straighten out." You see, this 'penal battalion' is simply a training group comprising gymnasts who are somewhat weaker than those in the group Mametyev has been discussing. Yet the words 'slacker' and 'malingerer' struck me as jarringly unpleasant. Innokenty Ivanovich hurls such reproaches at the girls as well. In his fervent desire to ensure productive training sessions and instill discipline in his charges, Mametyev - as the saying goes - tends to go overboard. Indeed, at competitions, many have witnessed his sometimes excessively harsh displays of displeasure regarding the performance of one athlete or another. At the same time, he loves his students selflessly - just as a mother loves her child - and this blind love clouds his judgement. I myself heard his angry words directed at a certain judge when the latter awarded a score lower than Mametyev had desired.
In this contradictory nature of Mametyev's character, it seems, lies the key to understanding a sensational story.
Some time ago, three of Mametyev's talented students - V. Fogel, V. Dubs, and A. Braun - left his tutelage. Innokenty Ivanovich argued to me passionately that the boys had simply been poached, lured away with promises of a glamorous life in the capital, superior training conditions, and better coaches. "Why," he asked, "did they try to convince them that I was merely a children's coach - that I wouldn't be able to guide them to the highest levels of mastery? After all, Slava Fogel did make in onto the main squad..."
Mametyev is deeply shaken by what has happened. "How could they run away - abandon their teammates? A sports school truly becomes a cohesive collective only when its students look up to the best among them and strive to emulate them. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that my students defeat those traitors. That is when we will prove to everyone who was right."
In a fit of pique, he fumed: "Traitors!" Yet just a few minutes later, reminiscing, Mametyev spoke with surprising tenderness of Vitya Dubs, Slava Fogel, and Sasha Braun, remarking on what fine, hardworking lads they had been.
I spoke with Viktor and asked him about his first coach. Here is a nearly verbatim transcript of our conversation: "Innokenty Ivanovich is a very stern man. When were were teenagers, we naturally obeyed him in everything. But we grew up, yet he continued to treat us like children. We weren't supposed to have opinions of our own; we couldn't argue with him. But we aren't robots - we didn't want to simply take everything on faith; we wanted to consult with our coach on every issue. Now we are in Moscow - and it's not about the facilities (in fact, the gym back in Leninsk is even better) - but here, we feel like adults, and our coach consults with us."
I do not know to what extent Viktor is right - for, having observed Innokenty Ivanovich's training sessions, I witnessed a good, comradely rapport with his charges - yet there is, nonetheless, a grain of homespun truth here, and Mametyev should, of course, heed these words.
That is Innokenty Mametyev - complex, and difficult to understand.
I met some truly interesting people. The coaches at the sports school are young; they have so much creative work ahead of them. And believe me - far away in Leninsk-Kuznetsky, there will be excellent gymnasts. Just give them the chance. Furthermore - exercising my privilege as a correspondent - I make this plea: pay more attention to coaches in the provinces - to those dedicated, selfless mentors, to the seekers and dreamers among them. They are waiting for support.
...Late that evening, the three of us left the gym. Director Savinsky, filling his lungs with air, exhaled:
"Over there," he gestured with his hand, "right along the river lies the old town - just shacks. But over there, a new one is being built: modern buildings, a hotel. It's going to be great here."
"It's absolutely fantastic!" Mametyev chimed in. "Once we finish the new gym, maybe they'll even hold the USSR championships here. And who knows - stranger things have happened, right?"
And both smiled dreamily.
V. GOLUBEV