Thank You, Johnny Weir

To those who know me well it is no new revelation that figure skating is the one passion in my life that has never really never waned. Yet last week when I tuned the television to NBC for the 2008 U.S. Figure Skating Championships, I must admit that I was not bubbling with my usual excitement and intensity. It was more as if I was dutifully going through the motions, unwilling to let go of an important part of who I am--or how I identify myself.

One might ask why my mood and feelings had changed so drastically. Well, for the past few seasons I've been witnessing a major shift in the sport of figure skating. A change in the quality of skating, the personalities of the skaters themselves, and a drop in its mass public appeal. And it's been something very disappointing to witness.

A Bit Of Background Info....

During the peak of skating's appeal, which I believe to have been from 1988-2002, the sport of skating saw a large rise in its fan base. The rivalries of Brian Boitano and Bryan Orser in 1988, the Katarina Witt & Debi Thomas "battle of the Carmen's" in '88 were the first two occurrences that helped propel skating into the limelight. Calgary's electric spirit and intensity certainly took my interest of skating to a new, obsessed level.

No doubt the Tonya Harding-Nancy Kerrigan duel in 1994 that truly catapulted skating forward into prime-time television slots and the front pages of numerous periodicals. Yet there were other reasons that skating was becoming increasingly more popular. Skaters were just better. They were training more and thus more physically fit, working longer hours. They were completing jumps and moves that were unheard of in Dorothy Hamill's time. Thanks to the feats of Kurt Browning (Budapest,1988) and Midori Ito (Paris, 1989) skaters were inspired to push the technical envelope. If people weren't clamoring to get a ringside seat to witness rivalries then they were there to enjoy the high quality of skating.


With new interest in skating and its stars, exhibition tours began adding new cities to their list, moving from the small-town arenas to larger facilities which sold out. Professionals, whose careers and fame were once short-lived following retirement from amateur competition, now had a future as professional skaters. The were no longer limited to Cinderella On Ice, Ice Capades, or coaching at the local rink as a means of income.


Finally, women's skating witnessed an era of domination by a skater--something that really had not occurred since Sonja Henie sat atop the rankings in the late 1920's and 1930's: America's skating darling, Michele Kwan. As she burst on to the scene at the young age of thirteen, her innocence and love for skating was a breath of fresh air following the ugly, albeit interesting soap opera between Kerrigan and Harding. She enjoyed a longevity in the sport that few others bothered to embrace, winning nine national championships and five world championships. While she medaled in two Olympic Games the one prize that evaded her grasp was the Olympic Gold Medal. Relying more on her natural gift of artistry and musical interpretation than jumping ability, she awed audiences with an edging quality and connection to the music not seen since the days of Janet Lynn. The reign of Kwan began to wind down in the mid-2000's. (She's not competed since 2006 when an injury forced the aged 26 year-old to withdraw from competition during the Olympic Games in Torino, Italy.) It seems that as the lights were dimming on Kwan's brilliant career, so too, dimmed the lights on skating's moment in the spotlight.


Why, you ask?

• The dismantling of the Soviet Union and thus its domination of skating at the competitive international level? No. This only created new stars from other countries, breaking up the monotony, particularly in the pairs and dance disciplines.
• Overexposure? Were we given an overdose of professional, pro-am, and amateur competitions on the tube, along with numerous exhibitions? (I still miss Robin Cousins' "Improvice".) Perhaps.
• Was it just an inevitable occurrence, like everything in life--cyclical? Probably.
• Yet I also found that skaters just weren't interesting to watch anymore. The level of difficulty had plateaued. Skaters, particularly in pairs, were also not exhibiting enough artistry, which is one of the two essential components upon which a performance is judged. Certainly Stefan Lambiel was a bright spot who cam on to the scene a couple of years ago showing off an incredible spinning ability that seems to be present only in Swiss genes. But something was missing. The spark that had been there just a few years earlier had been extinguished. What I observed as a fan was a lack of personality in the athletes which carried over into their skating. There was a lack of new music. If you've watched skating as much as I have, having to endure a program skated to "Nessum Dorma," "Carmen," "Malaguena," or "Swan Lake," was trying--even if the skating was on par.

So it was all of these reasons that when I sat down to watch the competition last weekend my expectations were low. However, I was was unaware of the forthcoming birth of a new rivalry in the men's competition between reigning national champion Evan Lysacek and former champion Johnny Weir.

The two gentlemen make no attempt to hide their dislike for one another or their hunger to destroy the other in competition. The two skaters could not be more diametrical opposites, either--both on and off the ice. Lycasek is tall, lanky, and quiet, possessing an icy cool confidence evident in his piercing brown eyes. Though Evan is affable and cordial, he's not always verbose and it times reporters or even I find myself wishing he's be a bit more expressive in his interviews. Weir, however, is short in stature, flamboyant and never afraid of speaking his mind. He also makes no attempt to hide his sexual orientation and embraces his femininity, as if to say, "This is me--deal with it, world!" Interviewers are never prepared for what he'll say when asked about his skating, his rivalry, or his personal life. And while some conservative folks might find Weir abrasive and repulsive, I find him amusing; interesting. One never knows what they're going to get with Johnny. While Lysacek has stayed with his longtime coach extraordinaire, Frank Carroll, Johnny has made several coaching changes, embraced the Russian culture, and settling with Galina Zmievskaya and Viktor Petrenko, often conversing with them in Russian. Evan's style focuses on quick, catlike jumps and footwork, attacking every note in his programs. Johnny embraces his gift of artistic talent, skating with a lyrical quality rarely seen in men's skating.

Following the short program, Lysacek was just behind Weir in the rankings. Both men had skated wonderfully and showed off their contrasting styles--both of which are appealing in their own unique way. Yet while the same calm and focused Lysacek appeared on the ice, a new Weir stepped out on to the ice. Following a dismal competition last year that left him off the podium, Johnny's latest coaching change seems a perfect fit. In the past year he had buckled down, changing his work ethic and training harder--no doubt an influence from his Russian mentors. And so last week in St. Paul Weir showed up for competition in fighting shape, ready to reclaim his title.

Lysacek came out in the short program attacking as usual, landing the quad-toe and all other jumps, wowing the crowds with his ferocious straight-line footwork. Lysacek had set the tone. It was up to Weir to deliver an equally impressive program. And that he did. Not only was his artistry top notch, he landed his first-ever quadruple toe-loop in competition. At the end of his program Weir clasped his hands together, overcome with emotion. The desire and hunger he had seemed to apathetically lack in the previous season had returned. He was back! It was in the judges hands and the judges were really undecided--almost. The marks left the two skaters tied in total points from both skates. Yet the judges chose Lysacek's long program to be the winning program in the long skate which by rules, gave him the overall edge and thus the title. Why? Two words: footwork sequence.

So as the evening events came to a close, I had found myself feeling a tinge of that old excitement I remember feeling that cold February evening in 1988, when, sitting in front of our 19-inch color television I watched Brian Boitano skate his way to victory. Or the happiness I felt when I was able to watch in person Michelle Kwan skate an exhibition program to East of Eden, which gave me chills and left me awestruck. A new rivalry had been born. It will continue at Worlds and hopefully it will knock some life into competition on the international scene. If what I commented on earlier is true--that everything in life is cyclical--then I can only patiently wait until the sport I so passionately adore with all my being will once again shine brilliantly. And if the new rivalry between Weir and Lysacek is any indicator, I have much to look forward to yet again. Thank you, Evan, and most of all, thank you, Johnny. Welcome back to skating. Welcome back to both of us!