This extract takes us into American professional skateboarder Alana Smith’s mind at the Tokyo Olympics
BY DEBORAH STOLL
This extract is taken from Deborah Stoll’s new book Drop In: The Gender Rebels Who Changed The Face Of Skateboarding. It tells the story of Alana Smith at the 2020 Summer Olympics.
At the end of their second run, with six seconds left on the clock, Alana headed back to the top of the eight-stairs. Ollie’ing off the ground, their arms swung up and forward to head height catapulting them into the thin, humid air. Cresting over the stack of steps, Alana landed with a satisfying KLIP! Some kind of nanosecond later, their back foot pushed down hard on their tail and the board flew out from under their feet.
It’s alright, they told themself, even though they hadn’t landed the trick.
It’s alright, they said as they looked up at the leaderboard.
It’s alright, they repeated as they watched their name move down from number twelve to number fifteen.
Trick 1
Back to the stairs. Alana crooked their front foot flat against the deck, swept it up to the nose, then rotated it back flat as they flew into the air. Over each successive step the gap between their body and shadow narrowed until merging at the bottom, where Alana crouched like a surfer in a barrel—arms pulled into their torso, hands splayed out in front—then rose up slowly and skated away.
It had taken three tries, but they’d landed the stairs.
“It was definitely one of those moments where I’m like, I know I can do this,” Alana said. Paused. Then added, “I also really had to convince myself . . . I had to fake it until I truly believed it.”
Trick 2
Alana was no longer dancing. No longer singing. Hyper-focused, they dropped their board to the ground at the signal, pumped down he bank, and headed for the origami rail—a four-foot, two-inch gap on top of a four-foot, six-inch curved wall, bifurcated by a flat rail.
It was the only trick they hadn’t landed in practice.
Above the gap, in the air, Alana’s arms started moving the wrong way—forward instead of up and around. The board stopped rotating underneath their feet and they went into free fall.
Before rescuing their board, Alana moved their arms into an arabesque shape—left arm up, right arm down—then rolled and twisted their wrists with isolated fingers like a Fosse dancer— Snap. Flick! Snap. Flick!
“I know what happened,” they mouthed to Mimi back on deck, repeating the arabesque: left arm up, right arm down. Snap. Flick!
For a second they skated. For a second they danced.
And then it was someone else’s turn.
Trick 3
For eleven milliseconds, every part of Alana’s body moved in unison—their right foot slid up the nose, their left foot kicked off the tail, their arms reached out to either side of their body, and their board rotated like a spit as they cleared the origami rail and then fell like they’d been dropped from a plane: arms overhead, board out in front, legs bent at the knees.
Skating back to the deck they kept their head down, facing away from the cameras.
“I was shaken.”
Trick 4
What happens when the thing you worked your whole life for is al- most over? When you can see it winding down? Literally? Numbers ticking off the amount of time left until your dream ends?
Drop in. Ollie the gap.
Pump down the incline. Miss the kickflip.
Trick 5
Alana stood on deck, unable to move. “My legs were shaking.”
Three seconds after getting the signal to go, they touched their chest.
“I could literally feel my nerves.”
Four: they picked up one foot and then the other. “I knew I could do it.”
Five: they had to move.
“I did not want to crumble like I did at Dew.”
Six: they dropped in. The moment their wheels connected with the wall, all the fear and anxiety they’d been feeling poured out of their body, leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated joy.
“I remember, the first time I was able to roll down my friend’s driveway without eating shit, I lost my mind,” Alana said. “Lost my mind.”
Halfway down the origami rail, Alana’s front foot popped off the board and pointed down like a pirouette.
“It’s crazy how you can continue having the feeling that skating gave you the first time you stepped on a board, for your entire life.” Alana flew over the Olympic rings across the bump and fell, rolling one and a half times along the ground.
From the other side of the park, Alexis yelled, “We love you!” “That’s the part I want people to see,” said Alana. “The love. The joy. Facing your fears. That’s the part of skating that can save people’s lives.”
Four hours later
Alana was packing when Gabby’s name lit up their phone. They’d spoken right after Alana’s heat, both of them crying tears of joy, exhaustion, relief . . . but now she sounded different.
“I don’t really want to tell you this,” Gabby said, “but I think you should look at social media.”
“It was relentless,” Alana said softly months later, then continued, growing gradually louder. “I know you see how happy I am in this moment and you still just want to take me down?!”
Online consensus was that Alana didn’t deserve to go to the Olympics. They were only there because of “American woke politics.” They’d stolen someone more deserving’s place. All the celebratory messages from friends and strangers expressing their gratitude for representation . . . those barely registered.
Accolades aren’t the stuff that sticks.
“I was crushed,” Alana said, their voice soft again and low. “The only reason I got to sleep that night was because my body was so exhausted from crying.”
The next morning, Alana posted two pictures of themself from Tokyo, with the following message:
What a wild f***ing ride . . .
My goal coming into this was to be happy and be a visual representation for humans like me. For the first time in my entire life, I’m proud of the person I’ve worked to become. I chose my happiness over medaling. Out of everything I’ve done, I wanted to walk out of this knowing
I UNAPOLOGETICALLY was myself and was genuinely smiling. The feeling in my heart says I did that.
Thank you to all the incredible humans that have supported me through so many waves of life. I can’t wait to skate for the love of it again, not only for a contest. Which is wild considering a contest helped me find my love for it again.
Drop In: The Gender Rebels Who Changed The Face Of Skateboarding by Deborah Stoll is published by Dey Street Books, an imprint of HarperCollins, on the 15 August and is available to preorder here.
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