Matt Majendi talks to the world indoor silver medalist about breaking new ground in the long jump despite being the daughter of two famous athletes.
At first, Larissa Iapicchino did everything she could to avoid following the path she took. Growing up, he was the main reluctant long jumper. The daughter of two athletes, mother Fiona May a two-time long jump world champion and father Gianni a national record holder in the pole vault, she was determined to navigate her own, alternative sporting journey.
It started with gymnastics, which stopped prematurely when she overextended herself, as well as being demonized by her fear of the beam. She contemplated volleyball, tennis, and beyond. after all, athletics.
“I remember thinking: “I don’t want to take it too seriously, I’m not my mother, I’m not my father,” says the 23-year-old Italian. “But the thing is, I went for the first hour and a half and fell in love with the sport. It started with hurdles because I still wanted something different from jumping.”
The problem was, he had a natural tendency to jump feet first into the long jump pit, despite his initial reluctance and his mother’s. He remembers. “My mother was desperate. “Please keep the hurdles or the middle distance, but not the long jump,” I said.
“Okay, maybe I have a little more pressure because my parents were the way they were, but it was just a fate that was already written by someone else. And I said:
It seemed inevitable, perhaps, that both her genetics and the name of long jumper Larisa Berezhnaya, her mother’s contemporary, meant she would eventually land on the long jump runway. Whatever the route, it paid off well as a European indoor champion, a European silver medalist and an agonizing fourth-place finish at the last Olympics in Paris. He also has his first world medal in his hands thanks to a jump of 6.87m that brought him silver at the World Indoor Championships last month.
May, the British-born athlete who switched allegiance to Italy and won world titles along with two Olympic silver medals in 1995 and 2001, remains an inspiration, but her daughter has successfully forged her own identity.
“She did amazing things, and I never felt like it was a weight on my shoulders being my mother’s daughter,” Iappuccino says. “I am me and she is him. I do and he does athletics in two different eras. We can’t compare much. I have my qualities and he has his. I have my own path to make and follow. Sometimes I watch his videos and go, ‘Wow,’ but it’s inspiring, not a negative thing.”
Another link is their coach. Gianni, Larissa’s father, coaches her, as does Fiona May, the couple were set to marry before divorcing in 2011. Being a coach and athlete, and father and daughter, has its ups and downs, but they laugh about its occasional rollercoaster ride.
“We have very strong personalities, but I also touch my mother a little, so it’s not so easy,” Larissa says, laughing and glancing at her smiling father. “We manage to put our personal relationship, father and daughter, aside when we’re on the track.”
Unlike World Athletics president Seb Coe, who called his dad Peter when he coached him, he remains “Dad” on the track. “I think what we have is very special,” he adds.
Dad briefly begins to explain a little about the characteristic trait of the Yapicchino family, which is lively, combative, which can raise eyebrows for those who witness them. “It’s like my relationship with my father,” he explains. “We had and still have terrible fights, and it seems terrible, but in an hour it passes without having to explain to each other. Our relationship is a bit the same. Sometimes we have to be mad at each other, but it ends.”
Both witnessing the pinnacle of their careers, how do mother and daughter compare as athletes? “They are very different,” he begins diplomatically. “As Larisa said, completely different eras, she has a physiotherapist, an osteopath, a nutritionist, then we just had water and food, no amino acids, proteins or anything like that.
“Fiona was very mentally tough. He never once complained, even if he thought he would. There’s more feedback with Larissa, and that’s a good thing.” Larisa exclaims. “I am very opinionated”, to which the father answers warmly.
There have been tough times together, most recently at last year’s World Championships in Tokyo, where Larissa arrived in the form of her life, jumping over seven meters, but then failed to qualify for the finals. The rebuild hasn’t been easy, though, as he bounced back with a best-ever season-opener of 6.93m ahead of his return to the medal hunt in Torun.
“It takes time to think about what happened, and you have to take that time,” he says of Japan’s aftermath. “You need to rest a little bit, get your mind back, get back on track and work harder.”
One big change has been the removal of the sports psychologist, which aims to give him greater ownership of the competition during mentally challenging moments as they arise.
Crossing Tokyo, his father says. “Why were there occasional blackouts? They were not physical. He was in a sad state before Tokyo. he had probably never been so strong in his life. So we had to point out the real things that weren’t going right, trying to work on his mindset, allowing him to find someone to try to get him out of a difficult situation. Instead, he found himself in a difficult situation and was unable to return to business as usual.”
Heading into the outdoor season, both have high ambitions and more in their fifth season as coach-athletes.
Larisa talks about that. “I didn’t feel the jump. I strongly believe that every career jumper has that jump where you feel like it’s long, that you’re flying, that everything is coming together well. I haven’t experienced it. I’m just working hard trying to find my perfect jump.”
He has just finished his winter exams, the fifth year of his part-time legal career. It involves an orchestrated balancing act, and he likes having two pursuits. The ultimate goal is to navigate a career in sports law, but first comes the pursuit of excellence.
