Bringing a New Cool to the Pool

Sitting on the edge of a swimming pool, they jerked their heads, looking to the right, then left, all the while making impish faces. They dived in, flipped upside down, spread their legs wide like crabs and flexed their feet. Then they emerged, jutting their rib cages side to side, pulsating to a driving bass, their eyes glaring, hands on hips.

This is where Janet Jackson shoves aside Esther Williams. This is synchronized swimming, redefined.

These 27 children are the Synchro Swans of Southwest Los Angeles, the only African American synchronized swimming team in the nation, according to the sport’s governing body.

“If you want to be different from anybody else, you can,” said the Swans’ coach, 19-year-old Ymajahi Brooks. “We look different because of our style, our costumes, our attitude in the water and the choreography.”

Sometimes that means gearing up in silver Flo Jo-inspired costumes that leave one arm and the opposite leg bare. Or choreographing their next routine to tracks from Janet Jackson’s “Velvet Rope” album. Or preparing to model fedoras and patent leather swimming suits with unattached cuffs to impersonate Jackson.

Much of the routine includes funk and street-style dancing, always done--according to the rules--while afloat. Instead of the traditional pointed-toe maneuvers while upside down, these feet are flexed. Instead of the traditional frozen smiles, these faces feature bad-girl smirks.

“I like using Janet’s music because it’s easier to dance to. We all work so well with the music,” said Aiyana Davis, 14, the oldest member on the team, which includes 25 girls and two boys. “All of us get into it.”

The 2-year-old team does not limit membership to African Americans, but that’s what has resulted from the team’s style and the camaraderie Brooks engenders.

Synchronized swimming has risen in popularity, with the national organization’s membership growing by 30% since the U.S. Olympic team won the gold medal in 1996. Officials say growth has been particularly strong in the Los Angeles area, which boasts one of the highest concentrations of synchronized swimming teams in the country. Los Angeles is one of a few cities that offers synchronized swimming programs year-round in all public pools.

Although most members of the Swans are 9 to 12, some already have visions of being Olympians, training seven hours a week to perfect their egg-beatering legs, learn the scissoring actions and crane positions.

Their efforts were showcased last month at a ceremony to rename their practice pool at Rancho Cienega Park to Celes King III Swimming Pool.

Two sleek swimmers glided through the pool, circling and flapping their arms to the rhythm of R. Kelly’s “I Believe I Can Fly.” Both swimmers rose slowly out of the water, arms stretched back until their torsos could be seen. Crowds of pleased parents cheered and chanted the swimmers’ names.

The sport the Swans endeavor to redefine was first performed by Annette Kellerman in 1907 and described as “ballet in the water.”

Although the makeup and showy suits remain, synchronized swimming has long been attempting to transform itself into an athletic sport. It’s difficult when the point is to smile and make the activity look easy, and when the most essential equipment is a nose clip, makeup and a backup nose clip. But aerial lifts and tosses have replaced the lofty headdresses and intricate surface patterns that Esther Williams popularized.

“Esther Williams was a movie actress,” said Brian Eaton, spokesman for U.S. Synchronized Swimming, the governing body. “What Esther did was underwater ballet--a lot of water and surface patterns, a lot of people out there floating around on their backs, changing formations. Now we require at least 10 feet of depth for our lifts and throws.”

Williams helped popularize synchronized swimming through her MGM films in the 1940s, but it wasn’t accepted as an Olympic event until 1984. Eaton estimates about 8,000 Americans participate leisurely or competitively.

The Swans’ Brooks discovered the sport seven years ago after swimming practice at Rancho Cienega one day, when she saw a young girl and coach dancing in the deep end. She spent a year competing with Los Angeles’ L.A. Synchro team, and started coaching in September 1997 as part of her park lifeguard duties, when the Swans consisted of only six members.

“I try to get as many people on the team as possible, so we won’t have to be the minority, the polka dot on the striped shirt,” Brooks said.

She added that she takes special care to find expressive music for her crew.

“I look for something spicy, sassy, something I can tell a story with,” she said. “I choose music I think no one else is going to use. Everyone’s used ‘Lion King,’ ‘Little Mermaid.’ ”

“Here they are only 12, and they can do everything I’m doing now. They have a lot of cleaning up to do, but they have the ability. Just think what I could do with seven [more] years. They’ll probably be able to hold their breath for hours.”