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Glide comes before fall ONCE again, sport brought two practitioners back down to something hard and hurtful — usually earth, here ice. In the Australian Olympic Committee media office in Turin, Steven Bradbury sat with others watching on television as Lydia Ierodiaconou's knee collapsed, saw the rush of medics, heard her agonised squeal of pain. A hush fell on a previously chirpy gathering. Quickly, someone reached up and turned down the sound. The people in the mountains did not have that option. A couple of hours later at Palavela, Australian figure skater Jo Carter fell once and stumbled again in the short program, and failed to qualify for tonight's medal round for the first time in her international career. On the scale of things, it was not as tragic as Ierodiaconou's accident, but it was the end of her Olympics, nonetheless. Asked later if she could explain her performance, Carter replied in a quivering voice: "Sport." Sport is a joy, sport is a bastard, sport sometimes causes knees to spring apart. Figure skating is a judged sport, which makes it especially cruel. The judging system has been tightened and made more rigorous since a scandal in the Salt Lake City games, but it remains jarring to sensibilities that such grace and style is reduced to a set of numbers. Moreover, the judgement is so inescapably public. Sitting on a spotlit rinkside bench, waiting for her score to register, Carter must have felt as if she was in stocks. Several times, the absorbed crowd jeered judgements, and the coach of Romanian skater Roxana Luca gestured reprovingly with his finger when her score appeared. But there was no harsher judge of Carter than herself. "It was the worst I've skated in going on three years. For me, to skate like that in the Olympics, when I hoped to be peaking, was very, very disappointing. There's no excuses. I didn't step up. That's the top and bottom of it." Typically, those from the least forgiving sports are the most honest with themselves. Carter skated late in the night, and last in her group, which included the gold medal favourite, Russia's Irina Slutskaya, and another fancy, Japan's Shizuka Arakawa. She had hard acts to follow. "You have two of the gold medal chances with you — and an Italian," she said. "It was difficult, but it's something I should be able to deal with. I've done it before. That's the draw, that's sport." It was a pity for Carter, for figure skating is the Winter Games' most lavish stage, home to its only truly international stars. Other than the ice hockey final, it is the only sport that can be relied upon to sell out. The ice is as brilliant as the lighting, creating a luminous effect. The skaters dress glamorously, the music is uplifting, the skill sublime, but the ice is the crucial element; it adds a fluidity impossible even in gymnastics, the summer Games' equivalent. It is like wind to a flag. It is also intricately technical. I could report that Carter's program began with a triple lutz and triple loop, included a spiral step sequence and double axel and finished with a flying camel spin, but only the baptised would fully understand. In one way, it doesn't matter; it is possible to appreciate the beauty of the sport even while ignorant of its fine points. The least the language conveys is that it is damned difficult. The best make it look sublimely simple; it is their gift. For all of figure skating's history, the US and the old eastern bloc have fought this one out, but the Japanese are emerging quickly. Slutskaya, the world champion and Salt Lake City silver medallist, was exhilarating. She projects her confidence. You can sense the apprehension of other skaters as they gather for the triple lutz, but in Slutskaya, you see and feel supreme certainty. Her act is where sport and art meet. She was pursued by Americans Kimmie Meissner and Emily Hughes — sister of Salt Lake City gold medallist Sarah — and by the Japanese Arakawa and Fumie Suguri, who added a flourish by catching one of the bouquets flung by the crowd. Georgian Elene Gedevanishvili, who has just turned 16, starred, too. As in the best shows, there was a denouement. Sasha Cohen is a much-loved American, runner-up to Slutskaya in last year's world championships. Her build is slight, even thin, but her performance is dynamic, absorbing compulsory elements into a spectacle that draws in even rival supporters, until all are clapping and tapping to her beat. She skated last and pipped Slutskaya on the line, so to speak. The least it will mean is a battle royal in the free skating section tonight (Melbourne time). Carter might watch, seeking strength. She is Australia's best-performed woman skater, but was uncertain last night about her future. "I was unsure coming into it," she said. "I don't know what's the biggest motivator, failure or success." Somehow, she has combined an international skating career with successful study of physiotherapy, and is now working when she can as a locum. Perhaps she and Ierodiaconou can be useful to each other. Carter's mind appeared to make itself up even as she fought back the tears. "I'll take time off, then be back," she said. "I can't leave it on that note." |
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