If that was all for Simone Biles’ Olympic career, let’s all appreciate what we just saw

PARIS — Manila Esposito, the bronze medalist on the balance beam, stared like a deer in the headlights during a packed post-competition press conference. As she began to speak, her voice barely audible, Simone Biles reached over and adjusted Esposito’s microphone, nodding to the Italian gymnast that she was ready to go. Later, after the moderator posed a question to Alice D’Amato, Esposito’s teammate, it took D’Amato a moment to respond. The moderator began to prod her, when Biles gently reminded the moderator that the translation in the earphones takes some time to process.

Every now and then, a reminder comes: Simone Biles is 27 years old. This isn’t her first rodeo. She knows a thing or two about microphones and translations, about succeeding and even a little about failing. Biles started competing internationally more than a decade ago, as a 16-year-old with braces. She wasn’t old enough to ride. She wasn’t old enough to drink when she went to Rio in 2016.

Now she’s married, but like a newlywed bride asked after the ceremony when she plans to start a family, Biles was asked, even before she finished competing in Paris, what she thought of Los Angeles. She initially responded with a non-answer. It would be great to compete on her home turf, she conceded, but she also acknowledged that age isn’t just a number. “I’m old,” she said, laughing.

She later vented her frustration on X. “Y’all really need to stop asking athletes what’s next after they win a medal at the Olympics,” she tweeted, adding, “Let’s enjoy the moment we’ve worked our whole lives for.”

It’s the crux of the matter, but in Biles’ case, it’s the message that needs to be flipped. It’s the others who need to appreciate it, rather than us eagerly wondering if we could enjoy it more. Which is what happens, of course. We get spoiled, and then desperate, desperate not to let go of something we’ve probably taken for granted. Biles is a constant, a near-certainty in the sport. Neither age, injury, abuse, nor mental health demons have defeated her. She keeps coming back, and so we’re left with the question: What if this is it?

That could very well be the case. Her coach, Cecile Landi, is leaving to become head coach at the University of Georgia. Her husband and Biles’ co-coach, Laurent, will follow in a year after their daughter graduates. It seems like the perfect transition. She doesn’t have to prove anything anymore, but that’s the point. Three years ago, it wasn’t about proving anything.

Then, defeated by the curves in Tokyo, Biles did the painful digging to unearth the root of her mental health issues. She admitted to being abused by Larry Nassar and courageously challenged USA Gymnastics’ role in it before the Senate Judiciary Committee. She questioned her own “why,” a terrifying proposition for all of us, one that confronts what we truly want and stand for. She had the courage then to admit that she had lost her direction, that she had traded her love of gymnastics for answering a bell. Even more courageously, Biles went on to fix it, by taking a year off from a sport where time is already unforgiving.

“To do the work, the personal work to be here and perform, it’s amazing,” Laurent Landi said. “It just shows how strong the mind is, and that if you heal it well, you can be very, very successful.”

She’s not fading. Biles has spent the week here nursing a nasty calf injury, originally sustained before the trials and twisted here during qualifying. Doctors kept her leg wrapped for the entire competition, and while Biles downplayed its severity — “You’re all curious,” she jokingly chided reporters when asked — Landi admitted it was a matter of managing the pain, not eliminating it. Medication, treatment, ice, the usual set-up, all to make it “hold,” far from curing. “It bothered her, of course,” he said. “Did it affect her performance? I don’t think so.”

Landi grinned then, as if to say, “You tell me.” Four medals, three of them gold, more than all but the 22 countries that have competed in Paris so far.

The final day was, of course, meant to be a coronation, a lap of honor, and an au revoir. Instead, it revealed Biles’ humanity. She was tired. She’d competed four out of five possible days here. And she was mentally exhausted. The quest to right the Tokyo ship weighed heavily on her. The event’s finale felt strange, too. Instead of music playing as the gymnasts performed, the Bercy Arena was transformed into a church, complete with would-be church ladies tsk-tsking at anyone who dared to react as the gymnasts nailed a skill on the beam.

“We asked several times if we could have some music or background noise,” Biles said. “So I don’t really know what happened there.”

These aren’t excuses, they’re realities. The beam became the Hunger Games, with medals awarded to those who didn’t fall off. Three women, including Sunisa Lee, fell before Biles, and two others had serious balance checks. But when Biles missed a landing on her back and fell, the arena gasped. Later, after the competition was over and Biles hadn’t officially won a medal, a mother in the queue at the Bercy Arena complained to her young daughter, “I feel so sorry for Simone.” Her daughter responded, eyes wide, “She fell,” as if she had just witnessed DaVinci paint outside the lines or Beethoven miss a chord.

Whatever Simone Biles decides to do, her legacy will be one of gymnastics excellence and, more importantly, leadership and courage off the mat. (Naomi Baker/Getty Images)

In her defense, the girl couldn’t have been older than 8, and in her life Biles was Olympic perfection. Up until this beam final, Biles had competed in nine different Olympic events in her career, including team, all-around, and event finals. She had won a medal in every event, and gold in seven of them.

Then her humanity had the audacity to strike again. Two hours after her miscue on beam, Biles returned to the floor exercise, an event she has never lost at the Olympics or the World Championships. She landed awkwardly during warm-up, seemingly twisting that same calf injury. Biles received brief treatment but went out anyway and landed her first tumbling pass, restoring order to the universe. But on the second and fourth, Biles stepped out of bounds twice, costing her precious tenths of a point, just enough to secure second place ahead of Brazil’s Rebeca Andrade.

It has to be said — she botched two moves named after her that no one else even tries. This is Biles’ definition of failure.

Her definition of success? If you ask Biles, it’s not the medals, her strength. It’s what showed on the final day of the competition: her authenticity. She’s proud of what she’s accomplished, but she’s even more proud of who she’s become and the people she believes — rightly — she’s helped.

“Putting your mental health first and taking time for yourself, whether you’re in sports or not, is about longevity,” she said. “Longevity in sports specifically, but also just living a better, healthier lifestyle.”

Not far from where Biles was competing, a woman was walking down a Parisian sidewalk, following her friendly Australian Shetland sheepdog. In an effort to please dog lovers in need of a fix, she stopped to chat. She’s French, but in Paris to enjoy the Olympics, and when she heard her new canine friends were from the U.S., she immediately commented on how much she liked the “American gymnast.” She had watched Biles’ documentary on Netflix and praised her for opening up the conversation about mental health.

“I’m not an athlete,” she said, adding that she was nonetheless grateful that Biles made it OK to “talk about” your personal struggles. “I appreciate that.”

If this is the end, we should all appreciate Simone Biles.

(Top photo of Simone Biles with her gold medal from the vault competition: Tom Weller/VOIGT/GettyImages)