July 25, 2020 / Noordhollands Dagblad, The Netherlands
Marco Knippen @MarcoKnippen
He is the personification of abuse in Dutch gymnastics. “And quite rightly so,” admits Gerrit Beltman, “because my behaviour simply cannot be condoned in any way.” It is the reason why he now wears a hair shirt, but at the same time, there is something that concerns him. Beltman resents the lack of full disclosure with respect to the malpractices of the Royal Dutch Gymnastics Federation KNGU. “I was and am, not the only one – the opposite is true. The chances that a female gymnast – and I’m talking about those at the top – leaves the sport traumatised, are greater than that come out unscathed.”
If anyone can make such a claim, it’s Beltman (64), who has been coaching gymnasts since the beginning of the 1980s and is an established name in the sport. He worked with Olympians, World Championships contenders and European Championships hopefuls, he is considered to be the driving force behind Dutch progress on the international gymnastics scene and in more recent years he has set his sights abroad: Belgium (Flanders), Canada, back to Belgium (Wallonia) and currently Singapore.
Beltman coached Renske Endel, for instance, until a year before the young Dutch athlete’s uneven bars routine won her silver at the 2001 Gent World Championships. But she was also a victim of his terror regime, as were others like her predecessors Stasja Köhler and Simone Heitinga, the duo who in 2013 gave a graphic description of his abuse in their book De onvrije oefening (Unfree Practice).
You abused the girls physically, you intimidated, ignored, isolated and manipulated them. Systematically. You put them on scales every single day; these are serious allegations.
“I’m very deeply ashamed of myself. It was never my conscious intention to beat them, to yell at them, to hurt their feelings or belittle them, to gag them or make constant derogatory remarks about their weight. But it did happen. I went far too far, thought that was the only way to instil a winning mentality in them. I hate myself for my failures in this respect.”
Your moral compass was deactivated?
“I was passionate, obsessed even. I simply had to win, whatever the price. That’s no justification or excuse or mitigating circumstance, merely an explanation. A lack of social-pedagogical knowledge has certainly been one of my very serious shortcomings.”
Why did you think you were on the right track?
“When I started, gymnastics in the Netherlands didn’t amount to very much. I had no frame of reference and looked abroad, to Eastern Europe, in particular. That’s where the champions came from. I copied their approach blindly, and it was one that pulled no punches. It was very naive of me and objectionable, of course, but I thought I was doing the right thing.
“So I took a hard line: what I say goes and I don’t tolerate contradiction. I refused to make any kind of concession or compromise whatsoever.’’
How did you justify that to yourself?
“I didn’t see my mistakes, never fully understood that I was overstepping the mark. Indeed, I saw the same going on all around; I never stopped to think about the sharp edges. Performance was improving, so I’d convinced myself that I was doing things right.”
Did you never notice what it was doing to the gymnasts, the trauma it was causing the girls?
“I didn’t see them as individuals, but treated them as a means to an end, as I now realise. I wanted to go to the Olympic Games. I had my eyes set on European and World Championship medals. The end justified all means and I failed to understand that I was abusing their talents for my own gain. I never considered the flipside, never asked myself, ‘Is this what they want, too?'”
When did you realise that you were too authoritarian?
“When Renske Endel suddenly said to me out of the blue, ‘I’m leaving you.’ I hadn’t seen that coming. I was shocked, I thought, ‘But we’re on a mission together, aren’t we?’ That break-up got me thinking, although the change of heart wasn’t immediate. I needed a period of self-reflection before everything sunk in. The transformation took a while.”
How could the malpractice have gone on for so long?
“I was never criticised during those first decades. Nobody took the trouble to exchange ideas with me in any way that could be called in depth, let alone demonstrate to me how things should be done and give me the tools to do so.
“The Federation lacked corrective capacity; there was never a mention of pedagogy. I wish somebody who knew what they were talking about had confronted me and said, ‘Listen, my friend, that’s not how we do things.’
“It wasn’t until later, when I was working abroad, that I was forced to look in the mirror. I was pushed to be more transparent. Among other things, that was because practice, like in Canada, was more open for parents to watch, and I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to start communicating more clearly.”
What effect did that have?
“I see things completely differently now. It’s no longer about me, it’s about the girls. I facilitate them, I assist and offer support. When they’re young, I explain to them what they need to do and as they grow older I give them advice – a subtle but important difference. It’s their career, I just try to keep them on the right track.
“Results are a lot less important to me now, it’s more about the satisfaction the gymnasts draw from their achievements. So if they want a day off every now and then, say for a birthday party, then that’s within the realms of possibility – that one day isn’t going to impact in any significant negative way. And if I see a painful grimace or tears, I ask what’s the matter – always with a fundamentally positive attitude. After all, emotions have underlying reasons.
“That interaction gives me my pleasure and motivation, while in the past only sporting success gave me satisfaction. I had become insensitive back then, I felt lonely and displaced.
“Without it being their fault, the girls probably felt abandoned. That’s something for which the parents can’t be blamed. In many cases, I was responsible for sidelining them. The only one to blame is me.”
Why have you sought publicity now?
“I can’t turn back the clock, but I can try to contribute to a safer environment. Because things are still going wrong at the front end, not just in other countries, but also here in the Netherlands. The chances of lasting damage are simply too great.
“It is a fact that girls can work towards an objective with exceeding purpose and can tolerate more pain at a young age than the boys. But that shouldn’t translate to unnecessary pain.
“These athletes start at a very young age and miss out on an important part of their childhoods. It’s quite a sacrifice. Fun and passion should therefore come first, at least until puberty. Practice and training should be playful. Things should progress more gradually. And we need to ask ourselves whether it’s desirable to spend up to 30 hours a week in the gym at such a young age. Maybe such workloads are more appropriate at a later stage.
“The system needs to completely change; a cultural shift is a matter of bitter urgency. The arch of tension can’t be taut all the time from too early an age; it causes burnout and injury. They need to be fully fit and developed when they’re seniors, not before then. We need to rid ourselves of that stifling atmosphere where only results count, the judgemental culture, at too young an age.”
Do you understand the former gymnasts, victims of your reviled approach, who say they feel there should be no place for you in a gymnastics hall?
“I fully understand, from their point of view. And in a sense, they’re absolutely right. What I did was unpalatable. I can’t change that, only express my regrets. And I did that in a personal conversation with Stasja Köhler, Simone Heitinga and Renske Endel. And I’m prepared to do the same towards others.
“Only, I’m not the same man I used to be. I often think, ‘Damn, why was I one of those assholes?’ The lessons I’ve learned don’t mean that I feel comfortable about my past behaviour, but they have made it possible to continue coaching, adopting a looser approach.”
Publicity will reopen old wounds, but you’ve taken a very conscious decision to do so anyway. Why?
“What bothers me, is that one other coach and myself are constantly singled out. That doesn’t do justice to the exceedingly undesirable situation in the sport. There were, there are, other coaches who behaved and continue to behave the way I did. I stood beside them in the gym and saw them doing precisely what I was doing and what I now know for what it is: mental and physical torture. One of them, for instance, is still involved in the Olympics effort. That person hasn’t had to answer for his actions. People in the federation are fully aware, but no action has been taken. That’s arbitrary and it frustrates me.’’
The Dutch gymnastics federation KNGU says that it wants to play a leading role in a worldwide culture change.
“I very much want to believe that their intentions are good. But if gymnastics as a whole needs a thorough pedagogical wash, as KNGU director Marieke van der Plas recently said, then perhaps she should do her own washing first. And that’s not happening, because full disclosure of all the abuse has never been given and today’s coaches are still being protected.
If, as an organisation, you want to adopt a pioneering role, then you should first clean up your own act. Anything less is mere symbolic gesture and window-dressing.”
Response Renske Endel, Stasja Köhler and Simone Heitinga:
By maintaining that it was all never his intention, Gerrit Beltman is downplaying his inhuman behaviour. He wasn’t tough as nails, but insane. He lacked all empathy. Otherwise his cruelty would not have gone on for 30 years.
It is incorrect to say that the culture was to blame, Beltman was the culture; he set the tone in the Netherlands. Others followed his example (but are individually accountable for their transgressive behaviour).
Moreover, the ‘expression of regret’ is directed too specifically towards us. We are not the only victims, on the contrary. Many other girls suffered the same fate.