Book Review: Mind Gym
November 18, 2008
I am admittedly resistant to the “self-help” genre. Maybe this is because I just like to read stories, or because I value creative writing more than actual information. I’m not suggesting this is a good thing. And I’m not suggesting that I’m not in need of some help, and new perspectives now and then. It’s just that a lot of these books are so cliché and so cheesy. I find myself saying, “no kidding” a lot and rolling my eyeballs so much that I’m in danger of a sprain.
This said, I kept hearing about a book called Mind Gym: An Athlete’s Guide to Inner Excellence by Gary Mack with David Casstevens. About the third or fourth time it hit my radar, I was compelled to check it out. The basic premise is that athletes have to train their minds as much as they train their bodies. In other words, they have to build their mental muscle. Along these lines, Ty Cobb is quoted as saying, “The most important part of a player’s body is above his shoulders.” Likewise, golfer Bobby Jones has said, “Competitive golf is played mainly on a five-and-a-half-inch course: the space between your ears.”
Mack, a sports psychologist, uses quotes and anecdotal examples from famous athletes of the past and the present, including several skaters such as Sarah Hughes, Scott Hamilton, and Peggy Fleming. It deals with a lot of concepts that many of us are already aware of but could always use a refresher on, like: think positive, remain confident, and stay focused. Maybe it’s not even valid to call it a self-help book. I suppose it’s more like sports psychology watered down a bit, and snazzied up with anecdotes. The result is very readable.
I liked it. I found it helpful. Granted, it took me a long time to read (about five months!) but I think that’s okay and maybe ideal: it’s one of those books best digested slowly. It’s nice to keep coming back to it. I have an excellent book about writing called Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg that I’ve been reading over the course of at least 15 years. I suspect that when I finally finish it, I’ll probably start over again. It’s kind of like a steady, long-term companion. I can see myself taking Mind Gym off the shelf periodically in the future, if not to fully re-read then to review some of the sections I underscored as especially applicable to skating or just to life in general.
As a coach, I asked myself while reading: How can I use this to help my students? What tips can I pick up to motivate, to inspire, to help allay their anxieties and fears? Like I said, some of this information was valuable reinforcement of things I have picked up elsewhere. For example, Mack discusses the importance of focusing on the things you can control instead of the things you can’t. I started thinking about this simultaneously obvious and brilliant notion years ago after reading Caroline Silby’s wonderful book, Games Girls Play. (I highly recommend you read this, if you haven’t already - she is also a psychologist and a former figure skating competitor.) I have been trying to utilize and impart this mentality ever since, but it’s great to be reminded of it.
Similarly, Mack extols the power of positive thinking and demonstrates that even the words you use - either out loud or just in your head - impact this. For example, “I’m not going to fall on this, anymore” versus “I am going to land this.” It’s better to avoid the negative formulation altogether: just by planting that image of falling in your (or your student’s) head, you could increase the chances of it happening and vice versa. At this year’s PSA conference in Chicago, Frankie Perez did an excellent sports psychology presentation on this same topic. I have tried to keep tabs on my own phraseology during lessons since then - i.e. instead of “don’t bend your freeleg”… “straighten your freeleg” and I appreciate this as a more direct and clear way of delivering the message. And, even on a more everyday note, instead of “don’t forget your keys” how about, “remember to take your keys.”
Mack also delves extensively into the use of mantras and mental visualization in order to get in The Zone for game-time. While I was reading this, I had a student who was struggling with a moves test. A painful knee injury and a serious case of asthma meant that she could really only skate sometimes 20 or 25 minutes per day a few times a week. It was hard for her to develop confidence for the test without much repetition of the moves and without much cardiovascular training. Motivated by Mind Gym, I asked her to do a mental run-through of her moves every night for a week leading up to the test. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she ended up having one of her best performances ever, despite all the obstacles. She hurdled them and I’m happy that she now has the gold testing medal she deserves.
I have found that one of the more challenging aspects of coaching is helping students control their nerves on the day of the performance. On this topic, Mack provides one of my favorite anecdotes of the book, and one that I think is very relevant to skaters. He describes working with groups of new firefighters. He writes: “I often give a classroom demonstration. It is a test you can take yourself. If I asked you to stand on the seat of a chair or on a tabletop, would you have a problem doing that? Probably not. But what if that chair or table were twenty stories in the air, and I asked you to perform the same task? What thoughts would you have? How would you feel? Could you do it? The task is the same. So what is the difference? For many, it’s a four-letter word: Fear.”
I have been gradually sharing this excellent image with some of my older students. After all, what is the difference between doing your run-through during practice and during the performance? Only the judges. It is otherwise the same. In fact, it is arguably better, since there aren’t any other skaters on the ice.
In addition to reading Mind Gym from the perspective of a coach, I couldn’t help also reading it with the eyes of a former athlete. Wow, I kept thinking, what if I had read this or something like it, back then? I was not exactly overflowing with confidence as a skater. One of my own more memorable mantras before competitions was: “I just hope we don’t get last.” I was kind of joking and kind of serious. Mainly, I suppose this was a protective technique: if we happened to get, say, second to last, I managed to feel, if not thrilled, then at least relieved.
But what if? What if I had aimed for the so-called stars instead of planting such a negative image in my head? If I had believed that I could have climbed the podium, would I have increased my chances of being there more often? I suspect that’s possible, but there’s no use in wallowing in regret. I do think it’s useful to analyze these kinds of things so you can extract a lesson. As Joe Biden aptly put in that crazy Vice Presidential debate not so long ago: Past is prologue. What worked? What didn’t? How can you change your own methodologies or thought patterns to reach your own goals and to help others?
My brother and I were incredibly fortunate to be coached by Robbie Kaine. He was a positive force, indeed, and imparted an idea that Mack also touches upon: while you always want to try your best, the process is superior to the outcome. As Charles Barkley is quoted in these pages, “I know that I am never as good or as bad as any single performance.” I think I was slow to understand this, and, in fact, probably didn’t fully process it until after I was finished competing; it’s as if it had to percolate for a while or I needed distance and the resulting perspective in order to see it. Better late than never: now, as a coach, I try to pass this mentality onto to my own students. I can only hope they are more clear-sighted than I was.
Mack touches on so many other valuable concepts like, setting goals, trying to think yet not over-think, and to train in a way that allows you to run on autopilot once you arrive at the game or the performance. He addresses sportsmanship and the importance of loving what you do. I certainly get the impression, from these pages, that Mack is enthusiastic about his own field.
Finally, he encourages athletes to look in the mirror, to really see themselves as others do. I think this is one of the most powerful parts of Mind Gym. It’s not that we should value what other people think over what we think, but it’s good for all of us to realize that we are using our minds and our bodies in a larger context. As athletes, we can get very caught up in the minutia of technique, ranking, and the next competition. This is probably especially true in an individual sport like skating. But what effect might we have on other people as examples or as mentors? It’s great that he helps to broaden this perspective.
On this note, I’ll leave you with what I think is one of the best sections of Mind Gym. It’s toward the end, and if I take nothing else from this book (or impart nothing else in this blog), this quote makes it worth reading:
“Everyone eventually leaves the game. Imagine for a moment you’re attending a testimonial dinner in honor of your retirement from competition. Maybe you’re retiring after high school or college or at the end of a professional career. Maybe you’re a weekend warrior. Your friends are at the banquet and so are all your coaches, former teammates and those you competed against. Each one stands up and says a few words about your character and how you played the game. What would they say? What would you want them to say?”
Think about this for a moment. Whether you are a skater, a lawyer, a beekeeper, a banjo player…or a writer: what would you want them to say?
***
Have you read this book? Any other books that have been of help? Click on “comment” below.
For those of you who are interested, I have another book on deck that’s supposed to be great for skaters called, Skating out of Your Mind. Yes, I’ll reviewing this at some point in the near-ish future.
Thanks for reading.
Hello Facebook
October 7, 2008
So I finally gave in to something I’ve been resisting for a long time. I’d been getting these e-mail invitations from friends to join that social networking site Facebook. No offense, guys, but I deleted them. I mean, I already have about 502 separate e-mail accounts and at least 75,000 websites I need to check in with on a daily basis. How much more can a girl do?
And I know myself: I’m a social creature. I’m prone to blabbing on the phone for hours on end, going out to dinner with friends eight nights a week, and writing jokey e-mails all day long. Besides, I am an avid and (despite what my teenage cousins think) speedy texter.
Outwardly, I played it like I just couldn’t be bothered with one of these online social networks - “Look, I’m already in touch with everyone I want to be in touch with!” - but secretly I knew I could become an addict.
And that’s exactly what’s happened. I joined up about two weeks ago in response to some particularly enthusiastic peer pressure. It’s a good thing I don’t have a Blackberry or a fancy iPhone - otherwise I might be logged onto Facebook every waking moment. What’s remarkable is that I’m not on it right now. Wait, let me just check to see if I have any new Facebook messages….okay, I’m back.
So, other than wasting gobs of precious time and serving as a procrastinatory crutch, what is the point of all these sites, like Facebook, Friendster, and MySpace? I suppose, like the internet as a whole, they make the world a smaller, cozier place by connecting you to others…instantaneously. Feeling lonely? Facebook. Feeling friendless? Log onto Facebook. Questioning whether or not you exist? There you are onscreen, smiling from the picture on your “profile page”. And there you are typing a quippy little note on your “wall” for all to see.
In some ways, it’s the new address book. If you manage your “Friends” page meticulously enough, you can put together a pretty thorough list of just about everyone you’ve ever known (and some you never knew, or maybe you did, but it’s getting a little fuzzy…).
Granted, Facebook fulfills different purposes depending on your age. I can’t speak for other age groups, but for those of us who are over the age of say, 20 or 25, this site is a slick way of traveling backwards through time. Very few of us stick around our hometowns, anymore: I myself have moved six times since leaving Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin at age 14. I have attended several different schools and have had lots of different jobs. Try as I have, it has been nearly impossible to stay in touch with everyone who I have genuinely enjoyed being acquainted with over the years.
And skaters of the world are an especially amorphous group. I have been associated with several different ice rinks and skating clubs. From both competing and training, I know skaters from all over the country and I’ve never had any organized way of keeping up with them…until now. It’s not like there are reunions or a directory of “past skaters.” In the last two weeks, I have contacted and been contacted by all kinds of flashes from my skating past: people I’ve often wondered about. It’s great to have them on my so-called radar, now, and vice versa. And we didn’t have to hire private detectives to track each other down.
Of course, it’s still not possible to be in really close, meaningful contact with everyone you’ve ever known, even with the help of a conduit as smooth as this. I have to resist the urge to individually e-mail all the people who have “friended” me or vice versa: I’d enjoy doing so, but I’d never have time to leave my house again. On that note, I have to wonder when I see that some Facebookers (mostly those under the age of 25) have more than 500 friends - do they really know all these people or are they just amassing friends of friends of friends? What percentage of these people are they managing to be in contact with?
If you can keep control of your Facebook experience (or maybe just accept that control isn’t really possible), it’s a hoot. If you’re like me, you’ll find yourself chuckling a lot. Like, “Oh, yeah, her. Wow, she lives in Seattle, now. Who knew?” You might also find yourself going to dinner with two long lost friends from high school on Thursday night.
If you haven’t joined Facebook yet, then I think you’re time has come. You’re not the last person on earth who hasn’t done so, but I have a feeling you will be, soon. So here’s what you do:
First, go to the Facebook Website by clicking here. Signing up is free - while it will probably end up costing you many many valuable work hours, they never ask you for your credit card number, an admirable and rare thing.
Upload a picture of yourself looking fabulous. (Or, in my case, the best one you can find…and then get a friend to de- redeye it in Photoshop so you no longer look like the devil.) Try to not cringe too visibly when one of your skating students remarks how dorky you look in it and suggests you switch it out for something a little “sexier” i.e. without the glasses.
From there, you just fill out a few general details about yourself, like where you went to high school and college and where you live and what websites you may be associated with that you want to shamelessly promote, wink wink.
This next part is when it starts to get interesting: you start to amass “friends.” The first step is allowing Facebook to rifle through your e-mail address book to identify all the people you know who are already in the so-called club. By simply checking their boxes, you will be requesting their Facebook friendship and, unless they still owe you money, the chances are very high that they’ll accept.
Once you start collecting Facebook friends, you can go through their personal lists to see who you know, and contact those individuals as well, forging more and more paths in this gigantic online maze. Along the way, over in the right hand column of your “home page,” Facebook will be constantly suggesting people you might know, based on their association with someone you already have on your list…and, as a matter of fact, you will know lots of them. Lo and behold, some of them have just sent you a request to be their friend. Receiving such requests might give you a nice tingly feeling: it’s like getting a “Will you be my friend?” note passed to you across a few desks in the second grade.
Finally, using the Facebook “search” function, you can also look up individuals one by one, but just make sure you know the exact spelling of his or her name…and also hope that they have a unique spelling because, according to Wikipedia, there are over 100 million Facebook users worldwide…and, I’ve found, for example, that many of them seem to have the exact same name as that one guy I dated for 10 minutes in high school.
But, in this way, I successfully found a friend from grade school in Wisconsin who I haven’t seen in more than…well, let’s just say many many years. Turns out that, though she now lives in Minneapolis, she often comes to visit my exact neighborhood in New York City. We’re going to meet up next time she comes through town - and I am thrilled about this prospect.
I will also be thrilled to stumble upon your lovely mugshot on Facebook, whether you’ve already jumped on the bandwagon or this CSOM installment is inspiring you to join up. Either way, I cordially invite you to be-”friend” me, Facebook style, by clicking here.
***
What do you think? Is Facebook a waste of time, or the perfect conduit, or both? Leave a comment below.
PSA Conference: Power in Numbers
May 27, 2008
Sunset from 95th Floor of John Hancock Building in Chicago this past Saturday.
Skating seems to be getting more quantitative. Ever since IJS landed in our laps, I’ve been wishing I had a Degree in Higher Math. Alas, I am more of a “word” person. Not that I have anything against numbers. In fact, I’ve always respected them quite a bit…from a distance.
Lately, I’ve noticed that there are a lot of nice things about numbers. How you can count with them, for instance. How, when you use them in order to back up what you’re trying to say, your statements can sound a lot more like objective facts. How you can maybe understand competition placements after analyzing columns of numbers on a Protocol sheet, and maybe even, with the help of numbers, control those placements more proactively in advance.
You always hear that there is “power in numbers.” This was hit home to me in several different ways last week at the Professional Skaters Association Conference in Chicago. First of all, there were a lot of coaches in attendance: approximately 800, maybe a little more or a little less, one of the largest Conference turnouts ever. We filled a large ballroom and according to more than one speaker up on stage, we, as a collective group, were rather intimidating.
Indeed, from where I sat, the sea of skating coaches around me was an impressive visual. I hate to sound new-age-y but it was a powerful feeling to be surrounded by that many coaches in one room. I imagined that I was somehow buoyed up by all those people with similar perspectives, experiences, schedules, frustrations, and successes…not to mention similar addictions to both coffee and fleece.
But what I’m really getting at here is the weird thing that happened this week: I started to see the world of skating and the world in general as a collection of numbers. I’m not claiming that I suddenly transformed into a Mathematician or that I became Rain Man, I’m saying that I was overcome with the strange urge to create… A Spreadsheet. I admittedly don’t know how to create a real spreadsheet (let alone flow one of these beasts onto this website), but even thinking about doing so makes me feel very “professional,” so bear with me as I present…
THE OFFICIAL CURRENT SKATE OF MIND PSA CONFERENCE “”SPREADSHEET”" (extra set of quotes intentional):
Number of Years PSA has been in existence = 70
Years Kathy Casey has been coaching = 30+
Number of days in the year we should wake up with a burning desire to be better coaches, according to the ever-entertaining Kathy Casey = “every day” a.k.a. 365
The Component Score Susie Wynne would receive on the transitional skating she demonstrated in her wonderful class called, “Simply Skated” if she were competing under the IJS system and I were a judge = 10
Grade of Execution Gale Tanger would have received for her Spiral up on stage (though we’d have to replay the video to see if she held it for 3 seconds) = +3
Number of questions Doug Haw asked Brian Orser in the brilliant segment called, “Inside the Coach’s Studio” modeled after the television show, “Inside the Actor’s Studio” = 29
Number of dizzying revolutions Brian Orser a.k.a. Mr. Triple Axel seemed to do on the floor of his living room in the classic black and white footage from when he was a toddler = approximately 35
Number of syllables in the word “momentum” as counted by Orser’s coach Doug Leigh in the video footage = 3
Number of pillows (both functional and decorative) on the beds at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare (and thank you to my conference buddy for helping me with the calculation of this statistic) = 7
Therefore, when two beds are in the room, the total number of pillows = 14
The deadline for coaches to complete their required Coaching Educational Requirement (CER) credits = July 2010
The number of people who currently understand exactly what this entails = 4
Latest ISU Communication that will probably change after the ISU Congress in June = 1494
Number of times presenters from the judging community encouraged coaches and skaters to aim for high GOE’s rather than high Levels = at least 10
Number of “extremely diverse” conferences simultaneously being held at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare = many
Number of people wearing one or more of the following items for a particularly “intriguing” conference that shall remain nameless on this blog for fear of receiving a crazy amount of unwanted spam: leather, chains, collars, and something I can only call a “skirt-less skirt” = again, many
Number of times I heard someone ponder whether or not the aforementioned conference had a tradeshow = 5
Percentage of sport success that is “mental” according to surveys of Olympian Athletes, as presented by USOC Sport Psychologist Kirsten Peterson, Ph.D. = 50-90%
Amount of training time that athletes spend on the mental side of their sport according to Olympian Athletes as shared by Peterson= not 50-90%
Percentage of human communication that occurs through words according to Psychotherapist Frankie Perez = 7%
Percentage of communication that occurs non-verbally i.e. through body language, tone, etc = 93%
Ideal height of a leg extension for ice dance according to coach Iouri Tchesnitchenko= 80 degrees
Price of an all-event ticket for the World Championships according to a friend who worries, quite rightly, that cost is negatively affecting the skating fan base = $1000
Amount of weight gained from uncontrollable buffet grazing = No Answer
Amount of weight my suitcase mysteriously gained though I did not purchase or steal anything (I suspect foul play: invisible bricks, perhaps?) = 5 pounds
Length of the maze-like hallway leading from the hotel to the Convention Center where some of the presentations were held on the last day (and thank heaven, because I had to walk off some of that buffet-ing) = 16 miles
Pages of notes I scribbled because I am an obsessive note-taker (though in my defense, the pages of my notebook were rather small) = 56
Floor in the John Hancock Building from which my conference buddy and I watched the sun set while enjoying a post-conference drink (see picture above) = 95th
Phone number of the JFK Jetblue baggage claim office in case they ever lose one of your bags = 7186326355
Total number of minutes they might keep you on hold over the course of 3 phone calls = 36
Number of skating blogs I’ll be able to write, thanks to all the information I gathered while on this trip (not that I was lacking for topics) = 477
TOTAL = Priceless
***
Please add to this “spreadsheet” by clicking on comment below.
And stay tuned. In future installments I intend to address such topics as:
Pair Skating in America: Ouch; Moves in the Meadow; The Ratings Game; Figures: Still Mourning; Youtube as Teaching Tool; Age: To Limit or Not to Limit
Finally, here is the article I wrote about the event for icenetwork: http://web.icenetwork.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20080527&content_id=48350&vkey=ice_news
Kristi: I am Not Jealous
April 29, 2008
The time has come to clarify something: I am not jealous of Kristi. The word ‘jealousy’ implies a certain amount of malice and this is not at all the case. No, what I’m experiencing is definitely more like ‘envy,’ which is a far friendlier beast.
It’s not that I dislike Kristi, it’s that I want to be Kristi. This point gets hit home to me week after week as she cuts a proverbial rug (more like: shreds it) on the not-much-of-a-contest contest show called, Dancing With the Stars. I have excitedly viewed her Foxtrot, Tango, Paso, Jive, etc. thanks to the kindly and prompt posters at youtube.com. And if you haven’t seen her on the dance floor yet, I suggest you visit youtube as well.
Truthfully, I have not watched the other contestants, though I trust they are equally entertaining for lots of reasons. I am mainly interested in watching Kristi because we have so many things in common. Wait, scratch that, we really only have one thing in common: we’ve both once (or a million times) laced up a pair of skates.
As a result of following her performances and the fluff footage they’ve aired over the last month or so, I have come to the conclusion that, while I have many excellent qualities, I pale in comparison to Kristi in every conceivable way. Rather than feel bad about all this, I think it’s best in these kinds of situations to just come clean, to specifically define what’s really going on in order to really own it. This is why I have compiled the following list.
Ten Things I Envy about Kristi
- Her fame has reached the point where I can refer to her without using her last name and everyone reading this knows exactly who I am talking about.
- Her ability to dance with sharpness, agility, and nuance…and move in a way that is vastly different from how she ever did on skates. (For lack of anything else to critique, the shows’ judges have repeatedly criticized her for not demonstrating enough emotion or passion while dancing, but this is an obvious attempt on the part of the show’s writers and producers to create the illusion that she has something to improve upon.)
- The dreamy dresses the Dancing With the Stars seamstresses have created for her, not to mention the trim body they have to work with.
- Her opportunity to dance with the nicely-sculpted, accent-wielding specimen that is Mark Ballas.
- Her sporty, hockey-playing husband who, at least from this distance, appears to have all his original teeth.
- Her ability to ingest many hot dogs in one sitting. (Okay, her success on the hotdog eating circuit was an April Fool’s hoax for the show, but even knowing it isn’t true, I still can’t help myself from wanting to be able to do this, now that she’s “demonstrated” it.)
- Her cute little daughters rendered doubly adorable by matching outfits.
- Her dignity and the sportsman-like way she comports herself in seemingly every waking moment.
- Her competitive drive, which I have every reason to believe would translate to success in any field she tried to enter: High finance? Basketball? Competitive juggling? She could surely master any and all of these.
- Oh yeah, and her Olympic Gold Medal.
***
Here’s something I have that Kristi (presumably) does not: a parking space in New York City. Then again, she’s probably better off. Read why by clicking on Cusp of Greatness in the column over to the right.
Wollman Rink, Part 1
March 4, 2008
There are many different types of people on this planet and many ways of viewing the world around us. There are liberals, conservatives, Buddhists, Darwinists, etc. Most people try to make sense of the larger picture by looking at life through a particular lens, say, for example, through feminism, or environmentalism, or even, in many cases, consumerism.
Then there are a select few of us who have an exceptionally sophisticated worldview. People like us have a highly evolved philosophy that can be used to explain just about anything. We believe that pretty much everything in life comes back to one important thing. And that, of course, is…pizza.
Pizza is everywhere and its attributes are infinite. For example, here in New York City, there is at least one pizza shop on every block where people of all kinds can come together peacefully and pay their respects almost 24 hours a day. It is impressive how, when ordered correctly, one simple slice represents all four food groups. Notice how pizza transports seamlessly from hand to mouth without any need for those complicating factors called utensils. It also travels around town easily in those nifty flat boxes. And the way the dough so gracefully changes shape when repeatedly tossed into the air is pure, edible poetry.
I’ve known all these facts for years, but lately, I have been reminded that all roads lead back to this savory treat. For example, just this weekend, at a wine tasting, a friend described one mediocre but inoffensive selection as a good “pizza wine,” a term I’d never heard before, despite my “extensive” tours of vineyards. Recently, on this very website (see Boots and Blades, Part 2), figure skating boot specialist Mark Magliola underscored the challenge of fitting skaters with narrow heels and wider toes, which, to the delight of many, he referred to as “pizza feet.” And last, but certainly not least since it brings me to the topic at hand, I taught at Wollman Rink last Friday, an ice surface shaped exactly like…you got it, a slice of pizza.
Some try to contend that Wollman Rink, located in the southeastern part of Central Park, is shaped like a triangle, but I know better. It was designed and constructed in about 1950 with funds donated by Kate Wollman. It’s fairly evident what her favorite food was.
This shape makes such perfect sense, seeing as how New York is the pizza capitol of the world. Sorry Chicago. And I mean no disrespect, Sicily. The way I see it, this slice-y slab is the pulsing, extra-large heart of this pizza-loving city.
What is it like to skate on a rink configured like a slice of pizza? It can be anywhere from disorienting to liberating, depending on your ability to think, or skate, I should say, outside the box. Literally.
If you’re trying to do a program, a moves-in-the-field pattern, or an ice dance, it might end up being a little more “interpretive” (insert: bulbous, lopsided, or straight-out wacky) than usual. If you are determined to obey The Rulebook, you have to immediately stop using the barriers as reference points. You have to imagine a rectangle then hem yourself in. You have to guestimate. This could be a challenge for those skaters who, for example, have trouble finding their way across a rink without hockey lines as landmarks (and I include myself in that category.)
But, skating at Wollman is an adventure for many reasons even beyond its unique shape, including the weather, the location, the immediate surroundings, and did I mention the weather? I have visited this rink intermittently over the last few years as a substitute teacher for my brother, and, every time, I go through the same spectrum of emotions, starting with dread, only because I loathe early mornings, and ending with elation, because it is just such a cool atmosphere.
Last Friday, it was 16 degrees out when I entered the park at the 5th Avenue and 60th street around 6:30 AM. I had of course cloaked myself in a ridiculous number of layers, an amount of clothing that caused me to waddle across a stretch of cobblestones rather than walk. It’s a circuitous route you take through the park toward the rink from this entrance, a winding path I could only explain as heading generally in a northwest direction.
The fact that I hadn’t yet opened my eyes made my trip further challenging. As I crossed over East Drive, one of the streets the horse-drawn carriages use to trot tourists around the park, I was met with the smell of manure. I opened my eyes slightly so as to not step in anything unpleasant, then waddled down some stairs, and eventually heard music in the distance. I tried to lift my heavy eyelids a little more, accepting that I was getting closer, and would soon be expected to behave like a professional, an act that usually involves being awake.
I have discovered that all skating music, no matter the song, actually sounds like circus music when heard from afar, outside. As you approach, you almost think that you are nearing Central Park’s famous carousel, but that’s located beyond Wollman, a little further west. Gradually, the music clarified itself and I forced myself to open my eyes all the way.
That’s when I saw it, from above, through a line of trees: a gleaming slice of ice. I stopped in my tracks to take it in. The sun was ricocheting off the surface, causing it to actually glow. Bundled-up children and adults were already gliding around out there, in patterns of their own choosing. In this moment, just how, when you open the lid of a pizza box to a piping hot pie smothered with the perfect amounts of cheese and sauce and fresh basil, the angels began to sing. Chuckling, I waddled the rest of the way toward work.
To be continued, next week.
***
Needless to say, I highly recommend that you visit Wollman Rink. If you live nearby and you’ve never been, you should go immediately. If you live far away, you should make a weekend of it, and combine it with a pizza tour.
If you are aware of any rinks of unusual shape (A donut? A pear? A candy cane?), or rinks that are unique for any other reason, please enlighten the rest of us by clicking on “comment.”
To read Wollman Rink, Part 2, Click here.
To see Wollman in all its glory, click on “Central Park” at the following site: Click here.
Synchroland
February 26, 2008
I’m not a synchronized skater. The closest I ever came was participating in a few wobbly kick-lines and terrifying pinwheels in club ice shows when I was a little kid. You could argue that the intricacy of freedances or the footwork of pair skating has some similarities, and I coach a lot of synchro skaters individually on their ice dance and moves in the field, so I’ve developed a loose understanding of the discipline over the years. But I’ve never been to a synchronized competition…that is, until this weekend. I was in Providence for the 2008 Synchro Nationals and it was quite an adventure.
It was almost like visiting another country.
I discovered that we all breathe the same air and the landscape is comparable but the language is somewhat different and the customs are quite foreign. It helped that I had a wise and intrepid travel buddy and that I knew a lot of the locals. I was also fortunate that my passport a.k.a. press credential granted me access to one of the most interesting and exclusive regions: backstage.
Like any stereotypical tourist, I had my camera in hand and I was often unfolding my map (schedule) and gazing around with confusion. Fortunately, the locals were extremely friendly and eager to share their culture with me. And, despite the fact that all of the tribes are separately vying to scale a beautiful mountain called The Podium, this country is not in a state of complete mayhem. Frankly, I was struck by what an organized and sophisticated civilization it is.
One of the first things I noticed is that the synchronized schedule is incredibly specific. Of course it needs to be, because there is a limited amount of territory in which to fit all those skaters. The timetable doesn’t just tell you what time each event starts, it includes: Enter Dress Room, Leave Dress Room, Wait at Rink Side, Enter Competition Rink, Leave Rink, Photo, and Leave Dress Room, all down to the minute. From what I could tell, it ran pretty close to the published times.
I also immediately noticed that there were a lot of pre-competition rituals including off-ice warm-ups that looked almost exactly like aerobics classes or yoga classes or military exercises. I was surrounded by cheerleading-style cheers, stereos cranking out specific songs, and groups of girls belting out lyrics. I gathered that many are beholden to quirky yet powerful superstitions. I witnessed lots of inspirational pow-wows and noted that the tribal leaders (coaches) were obviously well-versed in motivational speaking.
But all of these traditions are trifles compared to the more complicated and mystifying things I observed out on the ice. Once the skaters stepped onto the rink, they effectively became clones of one another. Of course this was true as far as hair, make-up, and dresses, but it was also (mostly) true of the skating. Because for most of the events I was sitting far up in the stands (where there was also a perch for my beloved laptop), I couldn’t really see individual faces. Therefore, my attempts at following specific skaters through the program were at times futile. If I lost track of a particular skater, it was often difficult to find her again.
So, from my aerial view, I mainly watched the teams as a whole and was impressed by the different shapes they managed to form while moving in unison. The way the best groups constantly shifted and changed direction with their skirts swirling reminded me of a kaleidoscope.
One of my favorite elements was what I came to affectionately refer to as “Snakey Spirals” where two or three lines of linked skaters did triple change-of-edge spirals (i.e. inside-outside-inside) parallel to one another. I also liked the “Nomadic Circle” (again, my term), which traveled from one end of the ice to the other while spinning and maintaining its shape. And related, but even more spectacular, was the “Donut” (once again, my term) where a small circle spun along inside a bigger one, also while traveling. I couldn’t help but marvel at yet another popular trick where lines of skaters rotated beside one another, timed so that they barely missed hitting each other, the effect of which was like a row of revolving doors.
I think that one of the craziest aspects of Synchroland are the Intersections (and that one is a real term). Elsewhere, we’ve become accustomed to waiting our turn at four-way stops, but in synchronized skating everyone apparently has the green light and is supposed to cross through the intersections at the same time! We’re talking about 16-20 athletes aiming toward each other with all kinds of turns and footwork steps and managing (for the most part) to pass by each other without crashing! It is a miracle that there are not more collisions.
Speaking of which, there are occasional lapses that do result in disaster. And sometimes, because everyone is in such close proximity and moving so quickly, these unfortunately lead to pile-ups, literally. As a spectator, all you can do is wince, contribute to the collective “whoa” then applaud with encouragement as the fallen ones attempt to catch up with the rest of the group and re-attach themselves without tripping anyone else in the process. Re-establishing order after catastrophes like these is obviously one of the biggest challenges.
But, by far, the most painful moments for me occurred just after the teams took the ice. They would skate in an interesting and sometimes convoluted manner out to their starting poses and then, to my chagrin, anywhere from 2-4 skaters would turn around and skate back off the ice as if banished from the performance. I logically know that teams need to have a few extra skaters just in case someone gets hurt or sick on game day and I realize that this custom is clearly accounted for in each team’s by-laws, but ouch. It’s not like these skaters are half-citizens or anything, but it broke my heart a little each time to see the alternates all dressed up with nowhere to skate, watching from the sidelines.
What became evident as the competition progressed was that, just because you are granted citizenship to this unique country, it doesn’t mean you will immediately thrive. One team of skaters, comprised of freestylers and pair skaters, immigrated to the highest echelon of Synchroland only in October. Though they enthusiastically tried to learn the language and the laws, they were understandably still struggling. Nonetheless, they provided quite a bit of entertainment (earning a standing ovation for their freeskate) and demonstrated the fact that synchronized skating is definitely not an easy undertaking. Surely, with time and further exposure to the customs, they will gradually get the hang of it.
If you have never experienced the splendors of Synchroland yourself, I highly recommend it. I feel certain that, like me, you will find it to be enjoyable and stimulating. Thank you to all of those who warmly embraced me during my trip. And thanks also to my excellent tour guide/ sherpa/ “pencil sharpener” for making my stay both productive and pleasant.
***
To read the articles I wrote on this topic for icenetwork, visit:
Getting Pumped in Providence: http://web.icenetwork.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20080223&content_id=44483&vkey=ice_news
Glamour on Ice at Synchro Championships: http://web.icenetwork.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20080223&content_id=44560&vkey=ice_news
There’s a New Team on the Scene: http://web.icenetwork.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20080224&content_id=44694&vkey=ice_news
2008 Nationals Awards: My Version
February 5, 2008
Well, the figure skaters have left St. Paul. They’ve flown back to their respective hometowns and (unless they’re competing again right away) are hopefully still taking some much-deserved time off. At the Xcel Center, already the cowboys have ridden through for the “World’s Toughest Rodeo” this weekend - apparently the ice surface was simply covered with flooring and lots of dirt. But now that’s already been cleared away as well to get ready for a concert and three Minnesota Wilds hockey games this week.
But the memories of the 2008 National Championships still linger. At least for me, anyway. Lots of journalists are wondering if figure skating is still compelling, now that we have the confusing (and perhaps homogenizing) new judging system and now that we have such tiny jumping beans for champions. I happen to think that, yes, perhaps even because we seem to be in a new era, skating is as compelling and as intriguing as ever…it’s just a matter of who and what you pay attention to.
I, quite frankly, can’t wait to see what’s going to happen in the next couple of years, in the lead-up to the 2010 Vancouver Games. Along the way, surely there will be triumphs, disappointments, scandals (both real and contrived), injuries, retirements, and lots of hard work on the part of skaters, coaches, officials and, media personnel. Hopefully, there will also be some fun.
I had a blast tracking this year’s competition, so much so that I have decided to create my own set of awards. If I could present these in person, they wouldn’t be in the form of trophies, or certificates, or medals. I think, instead, I would give out…snowballs, conveniently constructed from Zamboni shavings. After all, snow, like success, is fleeting and, fortunately so are foibles.
These snowballs could obviously never sit on a shelf. But before they melt away, the recipients could throw them at each other. Or at the media. Or at me.
So without further delay…
MOST ENTERTAINING INTERACTION WITH THE JUDGES:
Winner: Ryan Bradley. For his Short Program set to the music from The Godfather. When the music started, he looked toward the judging table and made a serious yet playful “Capiche?” gesture with his right hand. The audience tittered. Just before his mammoth Triple Axel, he coolly blew the judges a kiss. Throughout the rest of his program, his arm movements were more abstract yet in character, mob-like, somehow. Later, for the Long Program, he channeled Charlie Chaplin, including a cane-twirling penguin strut aimed, again, right at the judges.
MOST DEXTERITY:
Winner: Maia Shibutani. For seamlessly opening and closing a decorative fan while performing to Japanese folk music with her brother, Alex, in the Junior Original Dance. I can imagine that if handed this prop to maneuver while also skating, most of us would probably manage to drop it, even if it were attached to our wrists. And I’m sure that, for me, it would probably get stuck closed, or open, or in my hair, or costume, and, Lucille Ball-style, I’d have to stop and ask the referee to assist with my technical difficulties. But this 13 year-old expertly flourished the fan at all the right moments so that it seemed to be an extension of her arm and nicely accentuated both the music and the choreography.
Runners-Up: Ben Agosto and Tanith Belbin. For passing a hat back and forth in their Hoedown Original Dance set to the music of Cotton-Eyed Joe.
RECIPIENT OF MOST POST-PERFORMANCE KISSES (IN PUBLIC VIEW)
Winner: Rena Inoue. Total kisses received: Six (total does not reflect kisses out of public view). Delivered by partner (and now fiancé), John Baldwin, after Senior Short Program. This included three while still on the ice (1. on hand, 2. on both hands 3. on top of head) and continued in the Kiss and Cry where she received three more, woodpecker-style to the side of her head. After the Long Program, she would go on to receive a mere five Post-Performance Kisses (in Public View,) though one was of extended length and could therefore possibly be counted as two.
MOST SYNCHRONIZED PAIR SPIN:
Winners: Inoue and Baldwin. For their Short Program side by side spin. Four separate positions, all of which matched. Several rotations. Same exact timing. Synchronized exit. No easy feat.
STRANGEST CHOICE OF ADJECTIVE:
Winner: Dick Button. For giddily remarking that there was something “sexual” about Meryl Davis and Charlie White’s Eleanor Rigby Freedance. This performance was many things, including “fantastic,” “intricate,” “powerful” and the list goes on, but it was not particularly sexual. It seemed Dick Button just wanted to use that word.
MOST TALENT UNDER ONE ROOF:
Winner: The Gilles Family of Colorado Springs, Colorado. Todd Gilles, 21, earned 6th place in Senior Dance with new partner Jane Summersett, which renders them 2nd alternates for Worlds and first alternates for Four Continents. Alexe Gilles, 16, won the Gold Medal in Junior Ladies. She is the first alternate for both Four Continents and also Junior Worlds. Piper Gilles, 16, won the Silver Medal in Junior Dance with her partner Tim McKernon. They are first alternates for Junior Worlds. There are also two other kids in this family and a coterie of pets: can you even imagine the schedule over at their house?
INFINITE TWIZZLE:
Winner: Evan Lysacek, Senior Men. At the end of his Short Program circular step sequence. I counted 46 turns but it was very blurred, so it might have been 47. He and the Tazmanian Devil should definitely have a twizzle-off.
BEST DRESS:
Kimberly Navarro, Senior Dance. For the black and white polka-dotted dress she wore for the Yankee Polka with partner Brent Bommentre. I already have a soft spot for NavBom and a predilection for polka-dots…combine the two and this compulsory dance was very much worth watching.
FALL MOST LIKELY TO MAKE THE VIEWERS (AND SKATER) WINCE:
Winner: Michael Villarreal, Senior Men. For the fall on his first Triple Axel in his Long Program. It was one of those falls where every part of his body seemed to slam into the ice. It was kind of a stop, drop, and roll made all the more difficult to witness (and probably experience) due to the fact that he had at least four minutes and several more jump passes to go. He gets substantial extra credit for not only quickly peeling himself up and continuing but for immediately landing a great Triple Lutz, Double Loop, Double Toe. After a fall like that, some of us might still be down one the ice, whimpering.
MOST UNUSUAL FALL:
Winners: Amanda Evora and Mark Ladwig, Senior Pair. For their triple twist in the Long Program. On the landing, she was a bit forward and he missed catching her hips. He managed to somehow keep her from falling, but in the process of trying to get her balance, she looked to be groping in the dark with her arms and knocked his feet out from under him…needless to say, it’s not usually the guy who falls in these situations. I know from experience that four skates and eight limbs in such close proximity can result in some wacky falls, but this was an original. Once again, kudos on the recovery.
WORST SCHEDULING:
Winner: Senior Ladies Long Program, Placements 11-20. The event was broken into to two parts on Saturday, 8:45 AM and 7:50 PM, so those who didn’t place in the top 10 in the Short were banished from prime time. Instead of skating in front of a packed, frenzied crowd during the marquee event, they got the breakfast shift, in fact, the earliest start-time of any event in the competition. These skaters have still achieved so much and no one can take that away from them, but as far as fanfare, as far as buzz, as far as skating in front of a packed house with the cameras rolling and the commentators at-the-ready, just in case, they might as well have been in Junior, or Novice for that matter.
Molly Oberstar is a Minnesota skater who was essentially skating in front of a hometown audience for her first time in Senior Ladies at Nationals. She happened to skate last in the Short Program on Thursday night. She skated clean and the crowd went wild. She got 11th place, just missing the cut-off. Angie Lien, her fellow competitor and club member, (both from Duluth FSC), was competing in her last Nationals. I asked her about this situation. She thought it was “a little silly that the Senior Ladies had to be split up this year because of the TV contract with NBC.” Though she still had a great experience and appreciated “those who got up early to cheer us on”, she of course noticed that the “audience was much smaller than on Saturday night.”
Furthermore…we all know it’s difficult to “jump the warm-up”, in other words, place higher than the warm-up group you’re in for the Long Program (and of course the new system is supposed to make this more possible), but what are the chances of moving up after nine hours have passed? This amount of time makes it seem like two separate events. I realize that 20 Long Programs takes a long time and that the group was this large because there were several byes for international competitions. I appreciate that ice dance shared the limelight on Saturday night. And I realize all of this has a lot to do with TV scheduling, but I think that, for these skaters, it’s demoralizing. An insult.
CRAZIEST COINCIDENCE
Winner: Senior Men, the infamous 244.77 tie between Lysacek and Weir. For those of you who think “something fishy is going on” with the judging of skating, even with this new system, you may be right, but this is not your evidence. Of course the scores were probably inflated and we can debate the validity of them into the next millennium, but it would have taken at least several hours if not days for the Technical Specialists and Judges to get together and rig those scores so that they’d come out exactly the same for the sake of more media attention. That was an instance of pure, freakish happenstance. It was also quite entertaining, especially after all the rivalry hoopla created by (or at least significantly fostered by) NBC.
BIGGEST GRIN:
Winner: Rachael Flatt, Senior Ladies. After finishing a clean Short Program. Grin nicely decorated with tinsel and lip gloss.
Runner up: Rachael Flatt, Senior Ladies. Upon cleanly landing a Triple Flip, Double Toe, Double Loop combo at the end of her Long Program, her seventh and last triple pass. Grin coincided with a wide-eyed look of pure joy.
Second Runner up: Rachael Flatt, Senior Ladies. Upon receiving her scores for both programs. Grins accompanied by endearing giggles.
And they’re saying it isn’t fun to watch such young girls win. Granted, it may not be as “sexual” to borrow Dick Button’s word, but, after all, aren’t babies used all the time as marketing tools? Cute sells! In fact, one of the best Superbowl commercials this Sunday featured an infant buying stocks at his computer. My only concern is that if we get to the point where our champions are so young that they’re still breastfeeding, is that going to be considered an unfair advantage? Better revise the controlled substance list, soon
I ♥ icenetwork
January 29, 2008
Let me explain, up front, that I don’t have television. What I mean by this is that I don’t have any television stations: I have a TV and a DVD player, on which I watch my fair share of movies, but no cable service, no TiVo, nor whatever newfangled technology they’ve come out with in the last ten minutes.
I “went off TV” cold-turkey about nine years ago when I realized that watching it was in direct conflict with my writing aspirations. Basically, to be a writer you have to do an inordinate amount of reading and an equal amount of writing. You have to go out into the world and have experiences that you can write about and sometimes you need to just sit on your couch and think. Watching TV doesn’t help much. I suppose other people have the ability to turn off the TV or rarely turn it on in the first place, but I know myself and I am not one of them, so it’s just better to not have the temptation.
Yes, I’ve missed out on a lot: American Idol, Survivor, Desperate Housewives, the visual images of countless world events (I do listen to the radio, but of course it’s not quite the same), and that particular comfort of coming home at the end of the day and decompressing in front of the boob tube. What I’ve also missed is just about every skating event that has been broadcast from around the universe in the last decade. (Excluding the few events I’ve attended and the fewer events I’ve invited myself over to your house to watch, thanks by the way.)
So you can imagine I was pretty intrigued when icenetwork re-launched/re-invented itself in August and announced they’d be offering on-demand broadcasts and archived footage for many marquee events this season. I subscribed and have been sporadically taking advantage of this service for the last few months, but it wasn’t until this past week, during the coverage of the U.S. Nationals in St. Paul, that I fully appreciated how remarkable this is.
Specifically, I came home on Thursday night after work and caught the majority of the Championship Girls (not a typo) Short Program event, live. I tuned in just as Caroline Zhang was taking her bow, and for the next few hours experienced the strange sensation of being in two places at once: simultaneously at home and at the Xcel Center.
The icenetwork coverage is relatively barebones and straightforward, perhaps not as “slick” or “produced” as other broadcasts, but precisely because of this, watching it online is a lot like being there. Have been at Nationals for the previous three years, and watching many events from the stands, I can say that there are some ways in which the icenetwork experience is arguably even better than being there…and I’m only chewing on a few sour grapes. Seriously, such a small percentage of coaches (and skaters and fans) get to partake in the Big Party so it’s great that icenetwork is sharing the love.
What’s not so great about sitting in the stands is that period of time after each skater, while the Technical Panel is reviewing the video. These are basically like a bunch of intermissions, and they can seem infinite. Sure, you can inspect your fingernails, cross and uncross your legs, engage in some chitchat, and crane your neck, squinting to see if the Kiss and Cry is living up to its name. From home, however, it’s the possibilities that are infinite. During the IJS Intermissions, you can:
- Watch the icenetwork replays, which usually include three elements from each skater, either in celebration of a performance triumph or in closer examination of a foible.
- Watch (and hear) the skaters and coaches kiss and cry from close range and wonder if they realize how close (and how effective) the microphones are.
- Analyze the Double-handed Wave: a friend of mine noticed that the Kiss and Cry tends to bring this out in many of the younger skaters. This waving technique involves extremely loose wrists wobbled at about shoulder-level. I’ve been practicing mine and I think I’m getting the hang of it. I wonder if this is part of the new media training.
- Stretch. Watching any of these events will inevitably make you realize how inflexible you’ve become.
- Warm up some of that homemade soup and rejoice in the fact that it is not a concession-stand hot dog or a serving of over-baked ziti from the coach’s hospitality room. The only catch is that you’ll have to wash the dishes, but there’s time enough for this as well.
- Check the icenetwork results from events you missed or even peek at the archived footage, including press conference clips.
- Peruse the icenetwork message boards, which include comments that range from extremely insightful to incredibly…numb-skulled. In the middle of the spectrum, there are many comments that will confirm what you are also thinking, which nicely replaces the chitchat you would have participated in in the stands.
After you engage in all of these activities and return to the live broadcast, the Technical Panel will probably still be involved in deliberations, in order to insure that the judging of our sport is more fair. So from there, you can tackle some domestic projects, some billing, or that chocolate bar you’ve been trying to avoid. What I’m saying is that watching icenetwork can be quite productive.
(For the record, I do think the job of the Technical Specialists is a challenging one and I certainly wouldn’t want them to rush through their task on my account. Truthfully, the video replay really is, hands-down, the best part of the new system.)
Most importantly, and this is the key, this year on icenetwork you could actually watch the short programs, including all the skaters, and you could do so from anywhere in the country. You could even watch compulsory dances and novice and junior events (and you still can, at your leisure.) The subscription fee is nominal, but even if you didn’t want to make that commitment, you could still see backstage photos, read articles including skater and coach quotes, and just generally keep tabs on the whole Championships. All of this is nothing short of momentous and a vast improvement over what was available previously through USFS, which was really not much at all.
It’s also pretty exciting from a skater’s perspective. Far-flung fathers, sisters, grandparents, teachers, and friends can see these performances even if they can’t make the trip. And skaters themselves can log on from the competition, for that matter. This is something I would have valued when I was competing; the videotapes we ordered for our own cringing and for our family’s viewing always seemed to take forever to arrive in the mail.
Two days after Girl’s Short, I was glad to watch their Long Programs at a friend’s house where the TV was about 45 times the size of my computer screen. The NBC broadcast was well-composed, the camera-work was sophisticated, and the picture quality was crystal clear. It was an exciting and extremely weird event but it all seemed very far away; I was quite aware that I wasn’t there. When I got home, I logged on to icenetwork to see what had been posted so far.
All of this has definitely taken precious time away from my writing. On the other hand, I’ve noticed, over the course of the last few paragraphs, that it has also given me something to write about.
***
Yes, you are wise to have on your bias-detector: I have written articles for icenetwork and will do so again. I assure you, however, that I was not asked to write this and that all of the above sentiments come straight from my ♥ .
Skating at Bryant Park
January 22, 2008
There are several situations in which it would be helpful to have a neck like an owl. In other words, a neck capable of turning 270 degrees. You might look kind of creepy but you could swivel it around while driving, while in Yoga class, while walking home late at night. And an owl neck (not to be confused with a “cowl neck” - I already have a few of those) would come in especially handy if you’re ever overcome by the strange urge to go skating for fun on a crowded public session.
I recently decided it was time to check out the newest skating venue in New York City: The Pond at Bryant Park. Bryant Park is located in Midtown next to the Public Library and near to both Grand Central Station and Times Square. It’s known for having WiFi service and for showing movies, mostly classics, on Mondays in the summer. It’s now a winter hotspot, so to speak, from November through mid-January, boasting a holiday fair, a Canadian cocktail lounge fittingly named Celsius, and “free” ice skating.
A lot of non-skaters in my life had partaken of this slippery fun and wondered what I thought of it. I found it was difficult to form an opinion without actually going there, so I dug out the old Reidells, tied them together then hung them over my shoulder in order to stroll on over. (Okay, I confess that there was actually a backpack and a cab involved, but that other image is better.)
Of course the word “free” is always suspect but in this case it really is true as long as you bring your own skates (no problem) and don’t bring any valuables or wear your favorite shoes (oops) because you’ll have to rent out some NYC storage real estate either in the Bag Check area for $7 or in a locker, the lock of which (if you didn’t know to bring one) will put you back $10. I chose the latter option, rationalizing that you can never have enough locks…you never know if you’ll suddenly be called for an emergency repeat of 7th grade and it’s good to be ready for that kind of thing.
Four friends joined me for the occasion, two of whom are skaters. Two of whom are not and therefore they had the pleasure of strapping on the stylish, royal blue rental skates (nope, not free). There was a lot of giggling while we got ready. We asked each other how long it had been since we last skated, the answers ranging from “three years ago” (giggle) to “two hours ago” (giggle, for the opposite reason - what are we, obsessed?)
Stepping on the ice was like trying to walk onto the Autobahn at rush hour. If I were a more thorough journalist, I would have asked them what the rink capacity is and what the numbers were that night. Suffice it to say, the small rectangle (170 feet by 100 feet) was densely packed with limbs, all of which were flailing and half of which were attached to blades. I had this overwhelming urge to keep looking behind me. What I saw was people spastically careening, yelling “woah!” and making efforts at stopping that were only putting them more out of control and only millimeters from hitting me. What I also discovered when I looked behind was that this meant I couldn’t see what was ahead, not that that view was any prettier.
The upshot is that it was downright scary. Therefore, I wasn’t really skating. I was instead doing some kind of paranoid shuffle. I noticed that one of my friends, also a coach, was being similarly cautious. “How’s it going?” I asked nonchalantly, as if I was in a state of complete calm. She proceeded to remind me how, on her first day of coaching, ever, she was knocked down from behind by a kid who couldn’t stop, a fall that resulted in a broken sacrum (the technical term for rear end). “Oh. That’s right,” I said soberly and wondered why it had seemed like such a good idea to put ourselves in harms way like this.
I have taught lessons on many a crowded public session in my day but not in a few years, and I’d forgotten that frenetic sensation of never knowing what or who was coming at you. As my mother used to say when I first started driving, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t trust all those other crazies on the road.” I’d also forgotten how hard and how awkwardly non-skaters tend to fall. All around us, crazies were crashing into each other and falling in ways that looked practically fatal. I’m no doctor, but while there, I’m pretty sure I witnessed several broken wrists, just as many torn ACLs and at least a few cracked skulls. The victims were surrounded then carried off by a fleet of diligent rink guards. I winced, shook my head, and also wondered why all these people were putting themselves up to this.
It was gradually brought to my attention by one of the eager non-skaters in our group that the way I was skating wasn’t what he expected. He asked me why I wasn’t going any faster and I told him I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Of course, the opposite was true. Over the course of several laps, his ribbing escalated until he devilishly said the words, “Frankly, it doesn’t seem like you’re all that good.” I looked straight ahead, chuckling, trying to not reveal my horror.
And then, in response, I peeled out. Like a cheetah, like a Nascar super-engine…like Marion Jones after an illegal dose. Except on skates. I must have been a blur, the way I was so quickly threading between people. I was a human sewing machine; all I could see were streaks. After all, I haven’t spent my life on ice skates to have my skills doubted.
At the end of that momentous and death-defying lap, I abruptly hockey-stopped by the barriers, spraying the biggest plume of ice I could muster. The rink does draw a crowd of onlookers (though less than at Rockefeller Center) and they were impressed. Well, I’m pretty certain they were oohing and ahhing…on the inside, silently. I looked over at my critic and smirked. Mission accomplished.
From there on, I skated at medium speed. I snuck in some pulls and a few modest crossrolls. Then we taught our non-skaters how to swizzle, slalom, dip and (against our better judgment), glide on one foot. They were unsteady, yet enthusiastic and appropriately appreciative of our work. As coaches, we spend so much time around young, strong, flexible athletes who can really skate (and therefore we may hesitate to demonstrate and skate full-out) that sometimes it takes being surrounded by beginners to remember that skating, the simple act of gliding, for us, is actually as easy (if not easier) than walking.
In fact, when we ventured into the middle to demonstrate some pivots and two foot spins, we suddenly became rockstars. People gathered and gawked. Myself and my coach friend were swarmed by off-balance strangers. “How do you do that?” And, “How do you stop?” And, “Do you think my skates look too tight?” “Are they supposed to hurt this much?” (Those skates? Yes.) We doled out a few freebies then returned to the Autobahn for some more laps.
By this point, I was more comfortable with the traffic and had stopped impersonating an anxious owl, so I was able to take in the unique setting. Namely, that we were skating outside. At night. In the middle of New York City. Buildings jutted up on all sides. Instead of stars, windows of apartments and offices twinkled at us from above, their occupants aware but inured to the fact that we were slipping and sliding way down below.
We found that the huge lighting fixtures set up on both ends of this temporary rink were overly-bright, almost blinding. We decided that, next time, we’d have to wear our sunglasses at night, an addition that would nicely contribute to my already um…very cool aura.
There is something about skating in the open air, without a ceiling overhead. Even if the surface is tiny, there is a sense of expansiveness, a sense of wintry goodness you can’t quite replicate inside. That night, the air was filled with the scent of hot chocolate, with laughter, the scraping and scratching of imperfect blades, and taxis honking in the not-so-distant background. I was doing something I do just about every day, but it was completely different.
***
Well, as of January 15, Bryant Park rink has been melted to make way for Fashion Week. But you can still take a spin on it next season, or visit Rockefeller Center (open until April 13th ish) or the picturesque (and triangular!) Wollman Rink (open until April 6th ish) in Central Park. But, please, be careful.
Bowman the Showman
January 15, 2008
“You have to be very tough, very competitive. You have to be a real fighter, a real scrapper, a real go-getter. Basically, you need that spotlight, you need that attention…There are thousands of Christopher Bowmans out there, they all look the same. So you have to break out of the mold, become individualized, become someone else…and spark that interest in the mass general public that makes you popular, that brings you to a higher plateau.”
-Christopher Bowman, 1989
On Friday morning, while getting ready to head out to the coffee shop to do some writing, I had 1010 WINS on in the background, the local traffic, news, and weather AM station that pretty much reports the same stuff over and over every 10 minutes. As I was packing up my laptop, the announcer reported that a former figure skating champion had died of a possible overdose…Christopher The Showman Bowman.
I stopped, sat down on my couch, and waited 10 minutes to hear him say the exact same thing again. I was both shocked and not shocked at the same time. And mainly, saddened.
I didn’t really know Christopher Bowman, but he was at the top of his game in the same years I competed at Nationals. So I knew him only in the way you feel like you knew the Seniors in your high school when you were a Sophomore: you observed them both from afar and from close proximity and after a while, you felt as if you were somehow acquainted, not in a stalker way, but in a same-place-at-the-same-time kind of way. Skating is a small world, and, of course, in those years, Bowman didn’t exactly hide under a rock.
I’m sure lots of people have meaningful anecdotes to recount about Christopher Bowman, but here are the two I’ve been replaying in my mind in the last few days.
In 1983, after he won Junior Men at Nationals and Junior Worlds, he was the guest skater at our club’s annual ice show. The Figure Skating Club of Madison always pulled out all the stops for these productions - spotlights, sets, elaborate costumes, a huge curtain along one end that created an exciting zone called “backstage”…and guest skaters. My brother and I were relatively new to skating, bumbling along at the Novice level and clueless enough to not even know who Christopher Bowman was. But he breezed into our little Midwestern rink with all kinds of California star power. He was 16 years old at the time. He had a tan (well, relative to us), a gold chain, and very slick hair. I was only 11, but I noticed the teenage girls in our club were giggling more than usual and whispering to each other with animation whenever he came out of his locker room. I’m not sure if he actually winked at them before he took his guards off on his way out onto the ice or if this is something my memory has added, but it’s certainly something he would have done.
Anyway, what I’m getting at happened during the show’s grand finale on the last night. All the girls in the club, including me, were performing in a Precision-style, or Synchro-style group number, which culminated in what can only be described as a sort of add-on pinwheel, where you’d line up in opposite corners, and, when it was your turn, gun it for the middle, trying to latch onto the girls who were already marching in a revolving line. The skaters at the end, usually the shortest girls, had the biggest challenge, since the line was by then spinning pretty fast.
Once we’d all successfully hooked on and were holding on for our dear lives, we had a surprise coming our way: the big curtain parted and my brother and Christopher Bowman started aiming for us. We were all supposed to be turning our heads toward the middle of the wheel, but we instead looked to the outside to see what these boy interlopers were going to do. My brother was grinning but careful to catch onto the last girl, probably really concentrating on not falling. On the other end, Christopher Bowman was bent over like some kind of vaudeville speedskater, pretending like he couldn’t catch up. The audience and us skaters were all in hysterics. By the time the music stopped, he finally caught up to the lucky girl on the end. He looped one arm around her waist and with the other hand, he did one of those wiping-of-the-brow “Phew!” hand gestures. He waved at the audience while we all bowed, and I remember thinking that this Christopher Bowman guy sure was a lot of fun.
Later, at the 1989 Nationals in Baltimore, my brother and I got off the shuttle bus at an outlying practice rink and discovered that the last group of Championship Men were finishing up their practices right before us. Though it was cold, we did our off ice warm-up in the rink instead of the lobby in order to more easily see them. Christopher Bowman was working on his Triple Axel. We watched, stretching our quads and calf muscles, as he popped not two or three attempts but what seemed like at least 15 of them until Frank Carroll must have told him (probably with exasperation) to just call it quits.
The next day, we watched from the stands, rapt, as he popped a few more of these on his five minute warm-up. Then, of course, in the program, he not only landed the Triple Axel, but nailed it perfectly and the crowd, as it tended to do for him, went berserk. (This is my memory of the event, anyway…please correct me if I’m wrong.) I clapped and hooted with the rest of the audience, impressed, to say the least, and marveling at his ability to perform under pressure. At that competition, he would win the first of his two National titles, something you might not have thought possible, based on his practice less than 24 hours before. It did seem as if Bowman was spurned on by the audience, as if he performed better with it than without it.
Watching Bowman compete was always exciting, and not just because he had so much charisma. He had a reputation for not training very much, so as skaters, I think a lot of us watched to see if his methodology (or lack thereof) was ever going to catch up with him, not in a spiteful way, but maybe to justify our own secret (or in my own case, not-so-secret) desires to slack off. Of course, Bowman had a surplus of talent, so he could “pull it off” at the last minute with a sure-footedness that the rest of us could only dream of.
In the last few days, I’ve been re-watching videos of his performances on youtube, both in competition and exhibition, some of which I was lucky to originally see live and some of which I saw on television. I recommend that you sample some of these postings if you haven’t already. What you will see is extreme technical competence, true entertainment, and an undeniable spark, the magnitude of which is impossible to learn and impossible to teach.
In the Up-Close-And-Personal type pieces, you’ll see him shirtless while demonstrating martial arts, reclining on the beach in swim trunks and skates, and playing paint ball before most of us even knew what that was. You’ll see him, full of bravado and so pleased with himself, in the Kiss and Cry with the horrified Frank Carroll after he’s improvised his program at Worlds. In the show numbers, you’ll see him gyrating his hips, wearing a sports jersey from whatever town he’s performing in, and dancing with some unsuspecting yet overjoyed woman he’s picked from the audience. (Other guys try this shameless stunt during show programs, but most look like idiots and few seem to be genuinely having so much fun.) It certainly appeared that Christopher Bowman was handling the pressures of elite figure skating just fine.
In this footage, you’ll hear Scott Hamilton squeal with admiration, “Nobody works the crowd like Christopher Bowman!” And you’ll hear Dick Button’s backhanded lament that, “he has an enormous amount of talent. If he’d ever get finished playing around with this sport and not being quite as serious as he could be, then I think he’d be sensational.” When Button said this during the 1988 Olympics broadcast, the competition in which Bowman achieved 7th place on the heels of a National Bronze medal, it could be argued that what he’d already achieved was, in fact, sensational. (Going to the Olympics at all seemed pretty sensational, from where I sat.) Maybe Bowman never did fully take Button’s unsolicited advice and “buckle down” but he did go on to amass an impressive collection of medals.
Probably there are a lot of lessons to be learned from what has turned out to be a tragic story, more details of which will probably be revealed over the next few weeks and years, but I think it’s important to mainly remember the wink and the chuckle Christopher Bowman brought to figure skating, how he didn’t take himself or the skating world too seriously. In one interview, Bowman says, “I don’t see how anyone can do anything and be successful at it without enjoying doing it.” He adds, almost-defensively, since he was always being criticized for his lack of focus, “I feel that there are a lot of wonderful experiences to grasp and I try to grasp as many as I can.”
Ours is a regimented sport, filled with tension, and the stakes seem to just keep getting higher. One hopes that the athletes coming up today can carry on some of his lightheartedness amid all the new rules and regulations and the ever-increasing scrutiny of the media. I hope they can have enough perspective to occasionally laugh themselves. (I hope all of us can.) After all, to use Bowman’s own words, “Skating is a performance sport.” The world doesn’t tune in to watch a bunch of stiff machines and it’s kind of a drag to be one, anyway.
In a particularly serious moment, Bowman looks to his interviewer and makes a statement that, in hindsight, is nothing short of heartbreaking. He admits, “I’m doing the very best I can. I’m only human.” In fact, it’s been reported in several places that Bowman had a tattoo on his shoulder that said, “Nobody’s Perfect.” I don’t know when or exactly why he had this etched into his skin, whether it was an apology or some kind of battle cry. Whatever the case, though, he was right.
If nothing else, watch the exhibition footage from 1989 Nationals (link below). You’ll see him perform a slow number to Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” followed by his iconic, hammy, Woolly Bully program. At the end, Bowman falls face-down on the ice, as if dead from exhaustion. He playfully raises his head, moves his hand in a comedic “more more” fashion and, as if following orders, the crowd claps even louder. Then he puts his head back down, playing dead again.
***
To watch Christopher Bowman in his prime, click: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuCDKDxISUM
Thank you for reading.
