Six Reasons Why Men Shouldn't Be Embarrassed to Love Figure Skating

Six Reasons Why Men Shouldn’t
Be Embarrassed to Love Figure Skating
by Lynn Lewis

The waifish competitors zipping across the ice are ruthless competitors, sharing more in common with pugilists than ballerinas. Like boxing, there are flamboyant costumes and subjective judging, plus a cast of eccentric characters bent on psyching out their opponents. And I’m not just talking Tonya Harding-Nancy Kerrigan here: there’s Sasha Cohen’s annual clipping of Michelle Kwan during warm-ups at big events; Oksana Baiul’s Jim Brown-style fake limp before the long program at the ’94 Olympics; Katarina Witt’s penchant for leering malevolently and unblinkingly at her rivals from the mid-rink barrier during major competitions. All that's missing are the pre-match press conference rumbles.
Competitive figure skating is a sport, not a performing art. While the intricate rules and judging criteria are hard for most casual observers to grasp—much like the finer points of baseball would be for someone from, say, Libya—they are explicit and can be mastered with enough exposure. And don’t men love sports with complex, intricate rules? I know my husband Jeff does; after all, what would the Weekend O’ Fun be without a series of arcane requirements for each activity, such as the one-eyed, one-legged pirate croquet?
Figure skating is full of beautiful people, so whichever team you’re playing on, there’s something worth looking at. If you need some visual proof, just take a gander at, say, Tanith Belbin--or, if your bread is buttered on the other side, maybe John Zimmerman. And there’s nothing wrong with a little sex appeal in sports. Just ask tennis.
What is sport without judging controversy? As with every officiated sport, figure skating has had its share of questionable—or just plain wrong—decisions. Should the Raiders have won the AFC crown in 2001, when Charles Woodson forced Tom Brady to fumble but the refs ruled it an incomplete pass instead? Sure. Should Tara Lipinski have won the 1998 Olympic gold medal with her under-rotated jumps and illegal Lutz technique? No. And then there’s the five-to-four decision giving gold to Russians Elena Berezhnaya and Anton Sikhuralidze over Canadians Jamie Sale and David Pelletier (later awarded duplicate gold medals) in 2002. Leaving aside the illegal vote-swapping between the French and Russian judges and the presumed involvement of their figure skating federations for a moment, there was no obvious winner based on their performances. Even figure skating experts can’t find much to separate the two routines: the Russians had one very minor mistake but also demonstrated greater speed, better extension and had more difficult elements in their program, while the Canadians skated to the best of their ability and had no obvious flaws. But what of that vote-swapping? Illegal activities on the part of officials and players have always been part of the sporting world. Be it doping in everything from sprinting to baseball to horse racing, the egregious 1918 Black Sox scandal, the 1972 U.S. men’s Olympic basketball team’s undeserved loss to the Soviets or a South Korean’s inexplicable win over Roy Jones, Jr. in 1988, controversy creates indelible sports moments. Can you name the loser of the 1917 World Series or remember anything about Evander Holyfield’s gold in 1984? Isn’t the self-righteous feeling that “our guy was robbed” something that all sports fans cherish?
Figure skating is demanding and extremely difficult, even though the athletes may make it look easy. While some may say that hitting a major league curveball is the hardest feat in sports, I would have to argue that the distinction rightfully belongs to the combination jump. (For fun, try hopping in the air and rotating three or four times, landing on one leg and going right back up for another two or three revolutions. If you can best one and a half revolutions on both jumps, you’ve clearly missed your calling.) Just picture the combo jump process: you’re zooming down the rink at up to thirty miles per hour, knowing that you have to hurtle yourself into the air from an extremely specific--and ergonomically difficult--position, then rotate four times in the air whilst leaving enough room to halt the rotation, land perfectly on one blade--just an eighth of an inch wide!--and immediately, without any change of position, hop back up for another three rotations and another risky landing. Oh, and while you’re doing that, don’t forget to maintain perfect body line, from your head to your pointed toes, and end the second jump with as much flow as you had going into the first. And don’t forget to time it perfectly to the music. Any of you fellers macho enough to try it?
Bangles, spangles, baubles and fluffy collars. Everyone loves the 70s funk outfits and the ugly unies worn by the ’75 White Sox, ’77 A’s, ’85 Astros and ’81 Padres. Can you imagine the love that will endure through the ages for the first pro team to be bold enough to add metallic pants, beaded hearts or a satin glove to their outfit? Until that happens, the only sporting venue where you’ll find that sort of sheer brilliance is on the ice.

Lynn can be reached at lynn@babblog.com.