Jennings was a budding star, and at 13 she joined a competitive gym called Rockstar Cheer in Naples, Fla. She was the golden child of her coach, Carlos Realpe — even if he sometimes pushed her too hard. Like when he ran practices late into the evening on school nights. Or when Jennings pulled a hamstring and he threatened her position on the team unless she pounded ibuprofen and powered through the pain. Or when he screamed and threw shoes and water bottles. (Realpe denies throwing things; two other team members supported Jennings’s account.) Parents of other children complained about Realpe’s coaching style, but Jennings brushed it off.
Jennings’s family moved to Georgia, and after her new team there won the Cheerleading Worlds in 2019, she became a minor “cheerlebrity,” modeling uniforms and taking photos with little girls who waited in line to meet her. That visibility led to a scholarship to cheer at the University of Hawaii, where she clocked up to 50 hours a week in training, games, hair and makeup and late-night, punishing drills after making mistakes on the field. According to Jennings, her coach, Mike Keolaokalani Baker, insulted his athletes when the team performed poorly. Jennings had begun swimsuit modeling, and she told a friend at the time that Baker said her Instagram feed looked as if she was prepping for an OnlyFans career. (Baker denied making that comment. He said the team did not typically practice and perform more than 20 hours a week; another cheerleader supported Jennings’s memory.)
Her junior year, Jennings slammed into a teammate’s shoulder during a basket toss, snapping her head back and giving her yet another concussion — her seventh. Soon afterward, she got sick from an unrelated illness and became depressed. Baker sent her an email cutting her from the squad. She could have lost her scholarship, too, had the athletic director not intervened on her behalf.
Two years ago, at 21, Jennings retired from cheerleading with a chronic hip injury, occasional slurred speech and intermittent headaches that she called “stingers.” She resolved to seek treatment for a traumatic brain injury. It was only when she was out of cheer entirely that she realized her difficult career in the sport was more than just a random string of bad luck. Jennings’s experience — of injury, grueling hours and emotional abuse — is not an uncommon one in the vast world of American cheerleading. “Every day I make more and more pieces click,” she said.
At practice that year, as the team prepared for Varsity’s upcoming college nationals, Parks stood atop the pyramid, ready to execute a high front flip into the waiting arms of her squad. A teammate held onto her feet too long. “So instead of flipping, I just dove — like into a swimming pool with no water.” She landed on a two-inch-thick foam mat on top of concrete, breaking her neck in five places.
When teammates visited her in the hospital, they found a stranger. Most of Parks’s hair had been shaved for surgery and the rest sat in an awkward mullet, with a huge scar running around the top of her head. She underwent three operations, had a permanent shunt placed in her spine to drain fluid from her brain and endured years of physical therapy.
When Parks began speaking to a lawyer, she says the team shunned her: At bars around Memphis, she bumped into former teammates, who, emboldened by alcohol, would whisper, “We aren’t supposed to be talking to you.” She later started a cheerleader-safety foundation. When she returned for a Memphis alumni cheer event, she says former teammates wouldn’t even make eye contact with her.
Despite the alarming injury statistics, Varsity was publicly dismissive of the risks. “We are all concerned about safety, but the fact is, the injury rate for cheerleading just isn’t that high,” Greg Webb, a senior vice president (and Jeff’s brother), told The Times in 2000.
