Foreword

At 17, Greg Welkens had a lot going for him. Early in his life he had demonstrated unusual strength and agility, as early as the second grade, and an affinity for acrobatics. With encouragement from his grade school physical education instructors, his parents enrolled him in a number of afterschool and weekend classes in gymnastics. By the time he entered high school, he was proficient in all of the routines and challenges of competitive gymnastics drawing the attention of not only the local newspaper sports department, but the writers from at least two large city sports desks as well. As each season approached, Greg was featured in several articles, each extolling his talents and making ambitious predictions for his future.

As a freshman, Greg won his conference title in the all-around competition and went on to finish third in that year's state meet. In his second year, having experienced the emotional stress of the state meet as a freshman, Greg was better prepared, knew what to expect, and edged out the older boys by less than a point to capture second place in the overall. It was an accomplishment that had never been achieved in his state's high school championship.

In his third state meet, his performance on his favorite exercise, the rings, received a perfect score leading to a tremendous ovation from the crowd and causing clearly visible dismay to his fellow competitors. Greg excelled in all of the routines to such levels that the over-all competition was essentially decided by the third exercise. Later in his third year, his image appeared on the cover of the Sunday magazine section in one of the area's largest newspaper. Unlike many young men who achieve this level of acclaim, the notoriety did not go to Greg's head.

Since gymnastics is a sport enjoyed by both sexes, during most practices after school, the gym would be filled with his teammates and any number of his female classmates as well. And because of the limited number of apparatus in the gym, and the necessity to share time on each, there was inevitably a substantial amount of idle time for each participant. Greg spent most of his idle time in and around the rings area, because it was his favorite event and because he could help his teammates and assists them as they practiced.

It would be a mistake to assume that athletic prowess was Greg Welkens' only asset. At six feet two inches tall, he stood almost a head taller than any of his teammates in high school, just marginally pushing the theoretical "too tall to compete" theory that said tall men were unable to effectively compete on the horizontal bar and the pommel horse because of the length of their legs. Rather, it was the rippling of the muscles in his legs and arms as he went through several how-to examples that changed the pulse rate of his female students. It was the beads of sweat that dripped down his arms as he pulled himself up to a perfect iron cross, held it for the required two seconds and then performed a double layout flyaway as his dismount that made any girl watching him swoon, and if she thought about it, suddenly feel a wetness between her legs. When he stood, stepped away from the apparatus, and turned to his observer to say "Okay, now you try it," in the most disarming and gentle voice imaginable, all resistance melted. It wasn't just his physical prowess--it was that he was far better looking than Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, and Antonio Banderas on their very best days. With coal black hair and eyes to match, many people in the community thought he was destined for Hollywood, if he would only listen to the offers that it was rumored he had received. Greg had no interest in going to Hollywood.

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