A number of firsts are contained in that title:
- My first time at a sports event
- My first time watching figure skating live
- My first time as a fan of real people
- My first time posting about IRL things on this site
Because I’ve been inexplicably lazy to post here in the past, oh, several years, it might come as a surprise to my countless readers that I’ve recently developed an interest in figure skating; that this development was brought on by the sudden and complete obsession with Yuri on Ice (which I will write about and backdate appropriately and eventually link here); and that, in the six weeks between watching the series the first time and the Winter Olympics, the interest grew acute enough for me to buy two of the last twelve seats available in the 15,000-specators arena and book a trip to Prague for the Figure Skating World Championships on an impulse, with about 2 hours of “thinking about it” from learning about the event to paying for the entire trip.
And wow. Not only did I not regret a single [small unit of currency] I spent on it—I am already on the pre-sale mailing list for the next FSWC in Finland in a year from now, and genuinely counting the days.
It was magical.
Obviously, those two of the last twelve available seats in the 15,000-spectators arena were quite shit. Not exactly the absolute top-most row, but nearly. Not gonna lie: the first time I climbed up there and sighted the ice from this huge distance and at the weird angle you get from the corners, I felt a bit like crying, and I did question the hasty decision to put so many days of my life and so much money into such a subpar experience.
But when the skating started, I was pleasantly surprised to find that, even from so far away, I could see the skaters well enough to recognize their faces and make out the main features of their costumes; and, more importantly, that I could see their movements quite clearly. In fact, even from this vantage point, some impressions, such as the speed of the motion across the ice, the height and the length of the jumps, the inimitable rasp of the blades and the strike of the toe-pick (that could be heard in the rare moments when the crowd was quiet), were all very different from and much more immediate than what one can experience watching the recordings. The top row seats also have the dubious advantage of having a full view of the rink.
My only real issue was the difficulty viewing the central screen. It’s where the elements and grades are called out, as well as the scores and ranks. I could make out the red, green and gray of the Grade of Execution for each element, but not its name; and I could just barely make out the final scores. See, even after numerous hours spent studying recordings, I am not yet able to reliably identify the jumps in real time. I can mostly recognize the Axel and the Salchow, and sometimes, the Toeloop in combinations, but the others all look the same to me. Worse still, I can’t really tell a triple from a quad jump. 😔 The inability to check my guesses was frustrating! But it also made for a deeper immersion in the performances.
Not all is bleak, though! During the official practice sessions, which I attended twice, the top floor was closed, and spectators were allowed to take seats as close to the ice as they wished. On those two occasions, I sat at the short side of the rink across the way from the kiss & cry, which I later dubbed “the corner of death” because, for some reason, most skaters tend to do most of their jumps there, and consequently, most of the falls occur there as well.
I absolutely loved watching the practice sessions. It may well have been my favorite part of the experience, and not only because of the proximity to the ice. Only a handful of skaters wore their costumes in practice; most came in well-worn tracksuits and t-shirts, and there was something incredibly relatable about that. It was delightful to see the systematic progression of element difficulty in their practice routines. And obviously, to witness the reactions to success and failure that there’s simply no time to indulge in during competition. More than anything else, it was the practice that brought home the fact that these athletes, though they may be capable of otherworldly feats, are still just humans, with moods and whims and bad days as well as the good, who can and do get frustrated and flustered, and who may struggle with anxiety even after hundreds of public appearances.
Another occasion where I got to sit close to the ice was the Exhibition of Champions, or as it’s sometimes called, the exhibition gala: a non-competitive event where the medalists, selected contestants and guests get to show off just for fun and entertainment. For this, I had a very good seat, first row, next to the kiss & cry, and what a pleasure it was to witness this final part of the competition up close! All the more because one of my favorites, the Estonian skater Aleksandr Selevko, was invited to take part, so I got to see him perform a third time! 🩵
Seeing my favorites perform live, in flesh and blood and in real time, was obviously the main purpose of the trip. But I was still shocked by the intensity of the experience.
I think it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by figure skating at this level; surely even the most casual of spectators admire the elegance, grace and beauty of it, the artistry and the athleticism. But for those of us who get acquainted with and immersed in not only the performances but also all the backstage stuff: the training, the diet, the complexities of the rules and the requirements and the judging, the structure of the competitions and rankings—in a word, for the fans of the sport, the fact that all the years of effort these amazing athletes invest into their training culminate in 3 to 4 brief minutes of doing their best in front of an audience of thousands (millions, if you count those watching remotely), is extremely fucking salient. I recall being hopeful for certain competitors while watching the Olympics; jolted by their mistakes and glad for their successes; it’s when I formed the attachments that have now matured into adoration. None of those mild and transient emotions compare to what it felt like watching them in person, as part of a huge mass of similarly impassioned fans.
If I could choose one thing to somehow keep alive in my memories, it would be this: the emotion of it. The apprehension as a beloved athlete takes to the ice. The elation of clapping to the beat of the music and cheering them on. (And let me tell you, a crowd of 15,000 can make one hell of a noise.) The heart-stopping pang of fear and concern when they take a fall. The shared sadness when they’re visibly disappointed or distraught. The jubilance of a flawless skate and receiving a good score. It may sound trite—until you’ve experienced it. During some of the programs, I was genuinely shaking with adrenaline, and I outright wept with joy as my favorites triumphed.
And that is probably the brightest highlight of it all: the skaters I rooted for the most performed beautifully and made some notable achievements:
Kaori Sakamoto from Japan, who captivated me during the Olympics with her short program themed after goodbyes (as this is her final competitive season), won the gold in women’s singles for the fourth time in a row with the best score of her career. Witnessing her triumph and farewells was probably the most emotional experience of the competition. 🥹
Yuma Kagiyama from Japan won the silver in men’s singles. I’m afraid the chance he had at the Olympics to beat Ilya Malinin to the gold medal was a one-time offer from the Fates, even when he skates flawlessly. Which he didn’t! He took a fall (in the corner of death) during his short program (the second most heart-stopping moment of the entire event), and ended in the sixth place. But he staged a huge redemption in the free program, which was indeed flawless and got him a personal best score. I don’t think anything made me quite so happy as this. ❤️
Shun Sato from Japan won the bronze in men’s singles. He charmed me thoroughly during the Olympics with his perfect performance for the team event and his unforgettable reaction to unexpectedly winning the individual bronze. I feared for him because he seems to be a high-strung, over-emotional type who might not recover well from mistakes, and he kept falling during the official practice prior to the competition. But in the end, he did well, and I was so very glad for him. 🥰
Laurence Fournier Beaudry and Guillaume Cizeron from France won the gold in ice dance. There was very little suspense there: their long program, to the amazing soundtrack from The Whale, was what got me thinking, during the Olympics, that figure skating is something I might want to see in person. They were flawless and a tier above everyone else artistically. A true pleasure to watch and an honor to witness. ✨
I also rooted for Deniss Vasiljevs from Latvia (because of his artistry; because he’s a student of Stéphane Lambiel; and because he used to have hair long enough for a flowing pony-tail); Ekaterina Kurakova from Poland (for her movement and expression); Anastasiia Gubanova from Georgia (for her costumes and her beauty); Amber Glenn from the USA (because she’s an LGBT ambassador, and also stunning); Kevin Aymoz from France (because he’s an LGBT ambassador, and an incredible dancer); and the pairs skaters Anastasiia Metalkina and Luka Berulava (because she’s incredibly pretty, and they’re entertaining and impressive), who actually won the silver medal.
But there’s one skater who gets a special mention: 🩵 Aleskandr Selevko 🩵 from Estonia, who charmed me during the Olympics with his sassy short program to Prince’s Kiss, the provocative costume, and outstanding good looks. I didn’t have high expectations from his appearance at World’s (later on, I learned that he didn’t either), because, like Shun Sato, he seemed vulnerable to mistakes and failures. But then he delivered a shockingly good short program, setting the crowd on fire (the clapping was so loud I couldn’t hear the music) and earning the small bronze medal for that segment of the competition!
Obviously, I was delighted. I was also apprehensive, because this put him in the final group, with the likes of Malinin and Yuma and Shun, and I feared he’d crumble under pressure (happens to the best of them). And when he took a fall in the first jump of his free program (in the corner of death…), my heart skipped. I thought it would be a disaster. However! He recovered beautifully and skated the rest of the program flawlessly, earning his personal best score in both segments and ending up in 6th place overall! 🏆
And then, I also got to see him perform in the exhibition gala. I didn’t dare hope for it; at the Olympics, even some of the 4th place contestants weren’t invited, in favor of all the “stars” (sigh, Malinin…); and in Prague, Aleksandr was “only” 6th. But I guess the organizers were not deaf to the way the audience reacted to both of his appearances. Either way, I was overjoyed. 🩵
Later I learned that he was also nominated for the most entertaining program and for the best costume (both from his short program) in the ISU Figure Skating Awards. He didn’t win any of those; Yuma got the former (🥰), and Malinin, the latter (🙄). But it was good to see Aleksandr nominated. I hope all the recognition is a sign of things to come in his career.
Need I say I had a wonderful time? Part of the fun was walking around Prague again after many years. It’s a special pleasure to return to a foreign city you know well, and revisit favorite spots. I was shocked by how well I remember not only places, but the language, the food, and of course, the beer.
Despite the exhaustion of so many days packed full of excitement, I returned invigorated and eager to travel more and seek out new experiences. With this journey, Yuri on Ice and figure skating join the fandoms that made dramatic and lasting dents in my real life.