Randy Jepson knew in two moves that the U.S. gymnastics team was in good hands. Jepson ’83, ’90 MS H&HD, Penn State’s longtime men’s coach, watched from home as Stephen Nedoroscik stepped to the pommel horse, carrying years of American futility on his shoulders. In a made-for-TV moment, Nedoroscik ’20 Eng—the last man to compete in the entire team final meet—had to nail the one routine he was brought to Paris for in order to guarantee the U.S. its first team medal in 16 years.
The rest of the viewing audience sweated through the entirety of Nedoroscik’s set. But not Jepson. After Nedoroscik completed his first two circles, Jepson declared with confidence, “He’s got it.’’ His wife, Sue Flayhart Jepson ’83 Nur, “looked at me like, ‘What are you talking about?’” Jepson says with a laugh. “But I know how he stands at an event, how he swings his arms. I could tell he had the right tempo, the right extension. I just knew he had that routine.’’
What Jepson didn’t know, and what no one could’ve predicted, is how that single moment would explode into a still ongoing 15 minutes of fame. In the immediate aftermath of landing his routine to clinch a bronze for the U.S. in the team competition, Nedoroscik enjoyed the glow of sudden success. The dramatic timing of his routine, coupled with his now iconic eyeglasses (he has a congenital disease that renders his eyes permanently dilated), turned “Pommel Horse Guy” into a sensation. He trended on social media, and one savvy eyewear company renamed a pair of its frames “the Stephen.” The New York Post and People magazine even did “Who Is Stephen Nedoroscik’s Girlfriend” blurbs about Tess McCracken ’20, ’22 MBT Sci, a fellow former Nittany Lion gymnast and Big Ten Distinguished Scholar who works as a biopharmaceutical project manager.
After winning a second bronze in the pommel horse event final, Nedoroscik—a two-time NCAA champion in the event at Penn State—naively declared that the single greatest thing to happen to him was that “the guy that wrote Fault in Our Stars tweeted about me.”
Bestselling author John Green has since taken a back seat. Since returning from Paris, Nedoroscik has appeared on The Tonight Show and earned a spot on Dancing with the Stars. Where once his Instagram feed included ordinary pictures of him working out, it was soon peppered with shots of Nedoroscik posing alongside Hoda Kotb from the Today show, in costume on DWTS, and a social media exchange with Elmo from Sesame Street. The guy who enjoyed Clark Kent anonymity for the bulk of his competitive career now has a publicist to funnel media requests. (Nedoroscik was tied up with DWTS and couldn’t chat with the Penn Stater before our deadline.)
It is a head-spinning turn of events that could easily unmoor even the most grounded individual, but Jepson believes no one was made more for this moment than Stephen Nedoroscik. “He’s so authentic, so real, and he’s such a great ambassador for gymnastics,’’ Jepson says. “He’s bright, intelligent, athletic, though in an unassuming way. There’s not a single air about him in any way.’’
Nedoroscik arrived in State College from Worcester, Mass., as an unheralded recruit who became a pommel horse specialist by default; it was the one event he was pretty good at. Penn State has a history of success on the apparatus—the Nittany Lions have produced 12 national champs—and Jepson saw plenty of raw talent. He encouraged Nedoroscik to visit Penn State, but learned that Nedoroscik had, in fact, been on campus only when he saw a post on the gymnast’s social media channel of squirrels roaming around a Penn State parking garage.
The coach eventually learned that this was typical of Nedoroscik’s quirky charm. He does not want to be a bother, nor does he seek attention. He’s a delightful analytical nerd, playful and kind but also deeply intelligent. The electrical engineering grad solves a Rubik’s Cube (in mere seconds, usually) to relax. All of that feeds into his gymnastics. Nedoroscik devoured the work, anxious to upgrade his routine and eager to conquer the pommel horse–specific training the staff created for him.
It turned into a perfect combination of a program that knows how to train pommel horse guys, and a pommel horse guy who wanted to be trained. Often, while the other gymnasts lifted, Jepson—a three-time national Coach of the Year now in his 33rd year leading the program—would take his protégé in to work on training specifically designed for the pommel horse: pirouetting to improve balance, legwork that improved his ability to scissor.
The payoff came quickly. Nedoroscik won his first national title as a freshman, and another as a sophomore. A runner-up as a junior, he posted the highest season average and highest score of the season in his senior year, but the COVID-19 pandemic canceled the NCAA Championships. That year, he became the first specialist to win the Nissen-Emery Award, presented annually to the nation’s best collegiate gymnast.
Nedoroscik’s international trajectory was similarly speedy. As part of the national team committee, Jepson was sitting in a meeting room with national team director Brett McClure when McClure half-sarcastically nudged him and suggested Nedoroscik might be one of the guys under consideration.
The path for a specialist isn’t easy. Making the national team roster is a straight numbers game; each gymnast’s score is plugged in and various scenarios run to see which men create the best chance for a medal. For a specialist to nudge out a more versatile gymnast, his score has to be high and his ability to hit the routine practically guaranteed. The same year that McClure joked with Jepson, Nedoroscik won the Winter Cup pommel horse and followed it up by winning the apparatus title at a national title qualifying meet in Australia. He made the team, bringing the U.S. a silver medal at Worlds in 2019 and, in 2021, became the first American to win gold on pommel horse at the world championship.
Still, even though adding Nedoroscik to the 2024 squad made mathematical sense—in every scenario, he gave Team USA its best chance for hardware—some questioned his selection. At the trials, Nedoroscik finished second on the apparatus, and by adding him, McClure bypassed Tokyo Olympian Shane Wiskus, who had finished third in the all-around. McClure, though, was adamant that the choice was the right one.
The test—and the proof—came in Paris. Apparatus rotations for team finals are determined at qualifying, and when the U.S. finished fifth, Jepson knew the Americans would decide their fate on pommel horse. He also knew that, as the anchor on that event, Nedoroscik would be the last man to compete. It was not an unfamiliar position; Nedoroscik had competed last, with team finishes on the line, plenty of times at Penn State. So, even though he was nervous—how could he not be?—Nedoroscik wasn’t uncomfortable. He spent the meet cheering on his teammates, cupping his hands over his mouth to ensure that his voice was heard. But as his own turn neared, he shut his eyes and purposefully stopped watching.
Then, nailing his Clark-Kent-turned-Superman moment to perfection, he whipped off his glasses and stepped to the horse. Two minutes later, a most unsuspecting hero was born. “Was I surprised? Yes and no,’’ Jepson says. “I know how hard he works, so I wasn’t at all surprised that he did his job. But with how viral it went? I never saw that coming.’’
Coming and ongoing, that is. Asked if his talented gymnast could dance, Jepson laughed. “You know what? I wouldn’t put anything past Stephen.’’
