Golden night for U.S.

For a year, it was Shawn and Nastia, Shawn and Nastia, Shawn and Nastia. On the medal stands, on the results board, in the media, the U.S. golden girls were almost always in that order.

Today, on the biggest day of their lives, it was Nastia and Shawn.

Twenty years after her coach and father Valery was one-tenth of a point shy of a gold medal in the men's all-around, 18-year-old Nastia Liukin beat her friend and roommate Shawn Johnson to claim the women's gold.

"She corrected my mistake," Valery Liukin said.

Nastia, who has had her father's team gold medal hanging in her room as inspiration, did more than that. She faced down the pressure and nerves of the Olympics, nailed all four routines and rendered meaningless a simmering controversy about underage Chinese gymnasts.

Then she tried to get her mother Ana, who was outside the Indoor Stadium because she's too nervous to watch her lookalike daughter perform, on her cellphone.

The call cut out. It was just about the only thing that went wrong for the Liukins all day.

Their triumph was rich with meaning and with not a little irony. Valery and Ana, herself an Olympian in rhythmic gymnastics, never wanted their only child to be a competitive gymnast. As elite athletes in the demanding Soviet system, they knew all too much about the physical and mental toll.

But Nastia wanted this enough to convince her parents to go along. And now -- after injuries and the seemingly unstoppable rise of Johnson to the gold medal podium -- the Liukins share a gold medal.

"I think it's a little sweeter knowing I've been through some injuries and some doubters," Nastia Liukin said. "But honestly, I think it just made me so much stronger and made me the person I am today. It's been a long journey, but every single moment has been worth it."

Liukin opened on her weakest event, the vault. But she set a confident tone by doing her vault -- modest compared to Johnson's death-defying 2-1/2 Yurchenko -- perfectly and sticking the landing. Next was uneven bars, where Liukin does the most difficult set in the world.

Her score there, 16.650, was a long way from the 17.1 she's posted in the past. That left Liukin in second place behind China's Yang Yilin as their rotation moved to the balance beam. Johnson was fifth at that point, but going into her two highest-scoring events.

Johnson and Yang were both solid on the beam, but Liukin was exquisite. Much has been made about the contrast in the two Americans' styles. Johnson is smaller and more explosive, Liukin leaner and more graceful.

The judges clearly favored the Russian elegance and precise execution of Liukin.

"I think so," Valery Liukin said. "She has a tiger inside her. She was very strong today."

Liukin had the lead going into the floor exercise, where she has made nervous mistakes in big competitions all year, including the Olympic team final.

This time, she was nearly perfect, passing Yang in the overall score and forcing Johnson to compete with the Chinese star for the silver medal.

"I knew I really didn't have much of a chance (to catch Liukin)," Johnson said. "At that point, I didn'’t really care where I placed. I just wanted to finish my Olympic experience with the best routine I could. I wanted to represent the United States."

Johnson's floor exercise was splendid, all the more impressive because of the disappointment that clouded her usually beaming face the moment she finished. As good as she was in competition, Johnson was even more impressive in her grace toward her friend Liukin.

"It was Nastia's day," said Johnson, who left open the possibility of competing in the 2012 Games. "She deserves that gold medal. She earned it."

Liukin earned it by ignoring the pressure. As her father taught her, she concentrated on each element in her routines, mentally checking off the points as she completed them. Her body was on a four-inch wide beam in front of thousands of screaming fans, but her mind was back in the family gym in Plano, Texas.

"I wasn't thinking about whether I was going to make it or not," Liukin said. "I was thinking about how I was going to make it. That's something that my dad has always taught me. Go in being so confident that you know you're going to make it and then just do the little corrections as you go."

That's what was going on behind the game face. When Johnson's final score flashed and it was official, the game face dissolved. Liukin was a teenager, eyes brimming and lip quivering as it all sunk in.

She'd done it. She'd written it in permanent ink: Nastia and Shawn, in that order. She was the Olympic champion.

Contact columnist Phil Sheridan at 215-854-2844 or

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