Have you ever been excited about the prospect of writing a particular entry, but then once you sat down to write it you realize that (a) the chances that you’ll end up making yourself sound like a freak and/or a complete tool are actually pretty high, and (b) you don’t really know where to start?
That’s happening to me right now.
But with a lead-in like that I can’t quit now, can I? So I’ll start here: I don’t like sports. Especially of the organized variety. And for as much as I dislike participating in sports, it’s possible that I dislike watching them even more. It’s a fact that I’ll watch just about anything on TV if I’m bored enough, yet if you gave me a choice between the Superbowl and the Home Shopping Network’s “frumpy clothes for colorblind old ladies” show, I’d probably choose the latter. Seriously. Growing up in Indiana, where basketball is everything, it wasn’t easy to maintain this point of view. When I got to college my problems only intensified because everyone around me loved basketball, and there was pretty much no escape in that environment. I suffered through countless March Madnesses (well, actually just four I guess—though it sure seemed countless), but I made it through without ever developing a taste for any of the team sports.
There were a few notable exceptions that I still recall fondly. I enjoyed watching my college friends play intramural sports (especially the guys who weren’t any good at their chosen sport and therefore didn’t take it very seriously—giving their basketball teams names like “Prisoners of Gravity,” etc.). And my school’s annual bike race, called The Little 500 (as depicted in the Oscar-winning movie, Breaking Away), is one of the most thrilling things I’ve ever seen. Especially in the year I graduated, because it was one of only six times (so far) in the race’s 53-year history that the team for which I was rooting won.
But it could be argued that I was invested in these events because I was watching friends play, not a bunch of strangers who (more often than not) couldn't care less about who is or isn’t cheering them on. So I count these interests as flukes. On the other hand, I’ve always been impressed by individual feats of exceptional skill/prowess/strength/endurance/whatever. Bruce Lee, for example, is fascinating to me. Perhaps the one biopic I could watch again and again is Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story. The man broke his back and was literally paralyzed for months—only to will his own recovery through strength of character and then become the most recognized Hong Kong action star the world has ever known. No matter what your views are on his movies, you have to admit that’s amazing!
To a lesser degree, I think guys like Tony Hawk, Michael Phelps, Lance Armstrong, and Michael Schumacher have some skills that are pretty cool. But I can take ‘em or leave ‘em. Sure, I was happy to cheer for Michael Phelps during the Olympics last summer, but I have no idea (nor much of an interest in) what he’s doing now. Similarly, if I flip by ESPN2 and Tony Hawk is flying around on a half-pipe, I’ll pause for maybe three minutes tops before moving on. And if a grand prix race is on the Speed Channel, I’ll hover for a few minutes to see if someone skids off into the grass, but then I get bored.
Figure skating, though. I make plans to watch that shit.
Now, if you haven’t seen figure skating in a while, let me assure you that the days of whiney Nancy Kerrigan and scary Tonya Harding are long gone. They’ve been replaced by women who are cuter, sweeter, and not at all likely to take a lead pipe to someone’s ankle. Furthermore, these gals can do things that Kerrigan and Harding could only dream of.
I mean, seriously. Look at this:
Believe it or not, this picture doesn’t even do Sasha Cohen justice, because what it isn’t conveying to you is that while she’s touching her shin to her forehead and holding it there, she’s also spinning around on a fixed point (on a sheet of ice, no less) at dizzying speeds that would make any mere mortal puke his queasy guts out. It’s fucking cool, I swear!
She can also go in the other direction, too:
And although she’s not spinning in that position, she’s still rocketing forward at speeds faster than I can achieve while standing up straight with both skates touching the ground. (Not that that’s saying much, of course.)
But you see what I mean? There’s a certain grace and dexterity required in this sport that’s reminiscent of martial arts, which may sound like I’m trying to conjure up something a little more macho to make myself not feel like such a sissy, but I honestly believe this to be true.
Pairs skating, on the other hand, is all about the throws, the lifts, and the death spirals. Throws involve the guy taking his partner and flinging her away from him, so that she spins like a top in the air and then lands on the ice. Lifts involve the guy, um, lifting his partner above his head and holding her there—usually with one hand—while they twirl on the ice. Finally, the death spiral, despite its silly and melodramatic name, is one of the more beautiful moves in figure skating. The guy picks a stationary point on the ice and acts as an anchor for his partner, who leans parallel to the ice and cuts a wide circle around him. Some of the gals are more dramatic and put their heads right next to the ice, but this is the only picture I could find before I got tired of looking:
Another impressive move (that you usually only see in exhibitions) is where the guy takes his partner by her skates and swings her around in a wide circle like the hammer throw in track & field, basically turning himself and his partner into a human centrifuge. And it is fast. This may go without saying, but every movement on the ice is sped up because there’s less friction to slow them down, and the speeds they achieve for some of these moves are just plain scary.
The other thing that amazes me is that they never stop. A routine is a continuous line of movement, and they maneuver themselves into these positions in such a seemingly effortless way that it blows my mind. I can’t even adequately describe it here (as if that weren’t already obvious). Hence my likening it to the martial arts—which are more about conservation of movement than kicking ass (unless you’re Steven Segal).
Anyway, this past weekend ESPN aired the 2005 World Championships, and I was pretty much glued to my seat for about six hours’ worth of coverage. (The coverage actually lasted longer than that, but I don’t watch the men’s competition nor the pairs ice dancing [not to be confused with regular pairs skating]. The men just aren’t that interesting to watch, and the ice dancing—regardless of how often I’ve heard that it’s the most technically complex of all the competitions—looks like nothing so much as ballroom dancers on skates to me. But I only blame myself for not understanding that particular discipline better than I do.)
This year, the championships were home to two particularly moving sports stories. The first was in the pairs competition. When it comes to pairs, my allegiances are fickle. Or they were, anyway, until last October. During the Skate America competition last year, Maxim Marinin lifted his partner, Tatyana Totmianina, over his head, spun around, lost his footing, and dropped her. Usually when this happens the skaters are able to grab onto each other and avert disaster. But Maxim literally wasn’t in a position to catch her and Tatyana slammed face first onto the ice, which knocked her out cold.
Barring images of death and destruction, it’s probably the most frightening video clip I’ve ever seen. (And as I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn, it has been replayed ad nauseam ever since; it was shown no fewer than three times during the championships alone.) They took Tatyana to the hospital where, miraculously, she was found to have nothing more than a concussion and a hellacious, disfiguring bruise on the right side of her face. But of course the psychological toll—not only on Tatyana (who says she doesn’t remember anything about that day and, understandably, doesn’t ever want to see a replay of the accident) but also on Maxim—was tremendous. Maxim had to go through therapy just to be able to feel capable of lifting Tatyana over his head again.
Nonetheless, they were back on the ice one month later and have been undefeated ever since. Oddly enough, during the practice session before their free skate at the championships, Tatyana and Maxim collided with Dan and Hao Zhang of China just as they were practicing the same ominous lift from their routine. Tatyana hurt her back but was otherwise unfazed, and you never would’ve known that anything was wrong because their routines were perfect. They won the gold for the second year in a row.
[I’ll interrupt myself here because this spot is as appropriate as any to write a brief sidenote about the commentators: Whereas Terry Gannon is the cool professional, ex-figure skater Peter Carruthers is a total dick—especially when it comes to interviews. Likewise, Peggy Fleming is a kind of female Terry Gannon (except that she, too, is an ex-figure skater) and Christine Brennan is the female Peter Carruthers. After Totmianina and Marinin won the gold, all she wanted to talk about was the accident last October. After they answered her with all the poise in the world, she said with a smirk, “Are you sick of those questions?” I was hoping Maxim would give her an elbow to the nose. But he refrained. Oddly enough, my personal favorite commentator, Dick Button, was conspicuously absent from the proceedings. I don’t know if he was sick or if he’d finally been yanked for his occasionally inappropriate comments (more on that later), but he wasn’t there and no one mentioned why. I certainly missed him.]
The undisputed star of the ladies competition is always Michelle Kwan. Even if you don’t know anything about ice skating I assume you’ve heard of her. This five-time world champion is extremely personable off the ice, but when she skates I tend to get bored. Her programs are always flawless—and always uninspiring. If I said that around any other figure skating fan, though, I’d get my head torn off. Not since Michael Jordan has a sports figure been so universally loved. Michelle is unimpeachable as far as both fans and commentators are concerned. She could do something as simple as make a figure eight on the ice and the crowd would keel over in a massive swoon of shivering ecstasy. I think the idol worship is a bit weird, to be honest with you.
Anyway, Michelle’s shining star was tarnished a bit at this year’s championships. A new judging system has just been put into effect and, if Michelle is to be believed, some form of strategy is required to properly exploit it. Fans are mostly upset because the previous system allowed for skaters to receive “perfect” 6.0s, and those are now a thing of the past (since the new system incorporates all the judges’ scores into one lump sum). Even so, Michelle would’ve received no 6.0s for her qualifying round, which is just about the worst performance of Michelle’s that I (and everyone else) has ever seen. It was staggeringly awful. Apparently she changed up a lot of the routine in an attempt to maximize her score (now that certain required elements are worth more than they had been, etc.), and it just didn’t work.
Her short program was much better, but she fell during her free skate (nearly unheard of where Michelle’s concerned) and ended up finishing fourth. It’s the first time in many years that she hasn’t medaled at the world championships.
But I was unmoved, because as you may have guessed from the first two visual aids I used earlier in this entry, Sasha Cohen is the one who really knocks my socks off. In fact, she’s the reason I started watching figure skating in the first place. As mentioned before, ESPN doesn’t get much of a workout on my TV, but one day as I was flipping by I saw Sasha gliding across the ice and I stopped cold. I must’ve said, “Whoa! How did she do that?” about four different times during her routine. And I’ve been hooked ever since.
[Back to Dick Button: Here’s the reason why I love this guy. He’s in his 70s, he’s mostly bald and has a beard, and during one competition a few years back he said, in reference to the then-under-18 Sasha Cohen, “She is dee-licious!” drawing the word out just like that, in a slightly husky voice. When he finished his sentence I turned to Emma with bug eyes and exclaimed, “Did he just say what I think he said?” but Emma was laughing too hard to answer me. After a moment of dead silence, co-commentator Terry Gannon chuckled and replied, “You said it, Dick, not me.”]
Unfortunately, this 20-year-old skater is the perpetual underdog, usually trailing right behind superstar Michelle Kwan. Most experts agree that Sasha is the most talented and proficient skater in the sport at the moment, but her performance record is erratic at best. Here’s the thing: Sasha’s skating is pure elegance and athleticism. Her ending combination spin is composed of heartstopping magic. Her spiral is also amazing (and although everyone always talks about Michelle’s spiral, I think Sasha’s is much more impressive). The best way I can put it is that she does things no other skater can do. Plus, nothing she does looks awkward. Nothing. There’s a poetic, deliberate beauty to the way she moves.
Yet I cringe every time she has to make a jump. Because Sasha falls down all the time.
What can I say? The girl is sloppy. She can barely get through a routine without falling on her ass. The problem is that she hates to jump. This much is obvious. I’ve gotten to the point where every time she preps for a jump I get all tense; now I understand why other guys yell at their TVs during other kinds of sporting events. (“Don’t fall on your ass, Sasha! Don’t!...oh, dammit!”) Truth be told, more often than not she doesn’t fall. Except when it’s crucial that she doesn’t. I can’t tell you how many times she’s been guaranteed to win the gold, and then loses her mind on the ice. Considering how dominant she is at everything else she does, her falls make no sense. Especially since she can jump. In her qualifying round this year she landed a triple toe loop/triple salchow combination with no problems. That ain’t easy. (I’d explain the different kinds of jumps here, but I don’t really understand the nuances myself. All I know is that axels and lutzs are the hardest individually, and pretty much any combo is difficult. Kimmie Meisner, a 15-year-old who won bronze at the U.S. Nationals this year, landed a triple axel—the first woman to do so since the glory days of white-t thug Tonya Harding.) Bottom line: if jumps weren’t a part of the scoring, Sasha would be the master of the sport.
Generally, the only time Sasha ever wins is when Michelle is seriously off her game or doesn’t bother to show up (which can happen quite often, since there are dozens of different competitions in a year and as long as the skaters place at enough of them to secure a spot on their national team, that’s all they have to worry about). For once I’d like both of them to have perfect performances—because if that ever happened, Sasha would not only win, she’d deserve to win. I’m all for the underdog, but I’d prefer for the underdog to win on merit—not because her competitors were having a bad day.
Happily, though, Sasha performed three excellent programs this year and—though she had a few bobbles—she didn’t fall once (except afterwards, during her exhibition performance...Sasha!!!). Even so, she still only won the silver medal. But I can’t say I’m disappointed, though, because the gal who won gold really deserves it.
Are you ready for a heartwarming story? Then check out 2002 world champion Irina Slutskaya, who last year was diagnosed with vasculitis, a painful and dangerous inflammation of the blood vessels. Doctors encouraged her to take at least a year off, and there were rumors that she might never be able to skate again. But then her mother became ill herself, and is now in need of a kidney transplant. So partly to try and raise the $45,000 needed for the operation (but mostly because she loves the sport), Irina went back on the ice.
Aside from all the pain Irina suffers, the medication she takes for vasculitis also makes her extremely tired. Figure skating is a sport that requires a high level of energy, and even athletes in peak condition get worn out after the demanding 4-minute free skate (which is why most of them put their jumps—the hardest part of figure skating—near the beginning of their programs). Based on Irina’s performances, though, you’d never know anything was wrong with her. She displays a boundless energy that’s practically infectious while she’s on the ice. Even better, she’s twice as perky off the ice and has a wonderful attitude. She’s a little bit goofy and cute as a button (a phrase I could’ve sworn I’d never use, until I realized it fit Irina perfectly):
To help illustrate just how amazing she is, when crappy interviewer extraordinaire Christine Brennan talked to Irina several minutes after her qualifying skate, Irina was still so out of breath she could barely complete a sentence. But when she’d been on the ice there was no indication that she was even slightly winded. That’s simply a level of performance no other skater in the world can match.
Anyway, the point is that she muscled through the pain and fatigue to deliver three performances that were not only flawless but beautiful. The world championships were held in Russia this year for the first time in over century and when the home crowd (for Irina’s Russian, in case her name didn’t give that away) went nuts over her I just couldn’t help but get swept up by it. When she started crying after her final performance, I got a little weepy myself. (Yeah, I said it. So what?)
So she won the gold, and her winnings for the competition totaled $40,000. If that’s not the plot to a classic against-all-odds sports movie, I don’t know what is.
Holy shit. I had a lot more to say about figure skating than I thought I did. If you actually made it this far then I can only say thanks for sticking with it—and I’m sorry I’m such a longwinded bastard. I’m afraid the “Amusing : Dryly Informative” ratio was far too heavily weighted toward the right-hand side this time around, so I will do my best to make my next entry both extremely short and at least mildly entertaining.
I must say, though, that as a guy it’s nice to have at least one sport I can point to and say, “Yeah, I watch that.” Even if it’s not one that will generate an office pool anytime soon. But hell, my alma mater’s basketball team didn’t even make it into the NCAA championship this year! So why should I waste my time with that crap anyway, right?
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