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© St. Petersburg Times, published February 15, 2002
SALT LAKE CITY -- I am Jurgen. And I do not know whether to kiss or to cry.
Hello, and welcome to the men's long program. For some of us, it is longer than it is for others.
I have just completed my routine, and man, is my lutz tired. That is joke. I am Jurgen, and I am a funny skater. At least, that is what newspaper says about me. I hope it is not an insult.
This is difficult. I sit in the kiss and cry zone, and I await my scores. My coach, Svetlana, pats my shoulder, I hug my stuffed bear. I wave to the crowd. I sweat, and I hope my mascara does not run.
I am Jurgen.
I skate.
When I was very young, back in my homeland, I milked llamas for the money to buy my skates. I had to do this very early in the morning because, you see, they were not my family's llamas. Llama-rustling is very, very serious crime in my country.
I raise money for skates. I apply to state for lessons. Nineteen hours a day, I skate. My coach is a stern woman who looks like Nurse Ratchett from the Cuckoo movie. In figure skating, there are 8,372 coaches who look like Nurse Ratchett, all wearing leopard fur. Once, to escape her harshness, I attempt to escape by skating across the pond. When I think of it now, I realize I should have waited for winter.
Over the years, I have worked very hard for my sequins. When I was 11, I enter my first competition. Svetlana tells me she likes the look of my triple seacow. I ask her if she means triple salchow. She says, "Not the way you do it."
Now I am here, in Salt Lake, in America. I feel at home. My father, too, has seven wives. In my country, men do not cheat on their wives. They consider expansion. That, too, is joke. Take wives two, three and six, please. I have a million.
I am Jurgen.
I am Olympian.
As I wait for my score, I am pleased with my routine. I only fall three times. This is normal. In international skating, I spend so much time on the ice I am known by the nickname "Bourbon." Not that I fall a lot, but my main sponsor is Zamboni. Is good, yes?
My music is personal selection. The Bay City Rollers are big in my country. Every time they spell "Saturday," they get it right. Musical geniuses, I say. I hope Ukrainian judge does not deduct from my score. He is well-known Abba fan.
My costume is original, no matter what Bjork says. I do not like trend toward skaters looking like headwaiters. I believe in expressing inner me. I am lace, I am gossamer. I am feathers. Someone says inner me resembles San Diego Chicken. I do not know this skater. I begin my routine with a triple axel. The Axel of Evil, some have called it. Jealousy, I say. From there, I go to a combination spin. I would attempt a quad, but if I did, I would pull a quad.
My skates do not touch ice. The crowd is a blur. I am magic. I do a triple toe loop. I lutz, therefore I am.
The music swells. I rub my tummy. I pat my head. I mime that I am trapped in a box. I am light. I am energy. The crowd is so excited they begin to throw their stuffed animals even before I am done. A toy unicorn hits me in the head. On this night of a thousand nights, it does not hurt.
When I am done, I pump my fist into the air. I am overjoyed. I cannot believe how amazing I am. I cannot believe the wonder that is me.
There has been much discussion of judges by skaters. They seem fine to me. They never say a word to most skaters. To Alexei Yagudin, they say only one word before competition. They say, "Congratulations." What kidders they are. One judge turns to me. He says, "Nice outfit, Liberace." I do not know this word. It must mean liberty. Freedom, I say back to him.
It is wonderful, skating. There is so much Grace. And a lot of Will, too.
A word about Yagudin. He is a hero. He even dresses like a Power Ranger. I think Yagudin will win medal.
I sit. I wait for my scores. I think about my competition. Did you see Evgeni Plushenko? Originally, we wore the same outfit. It was, how do you say, embarrassing. Evgeni seems like a nice enough man, but he looks too much like Rod Stewart during the disco years. I wonder what the Ukrainian judge thinks of Rod Stewart.
I do not know much about Takeshi Honda. I hear it is a dealership that wants to put me in the driver's seat. He will take anything in trade. Funny. French judge says same thing.
Tim Goebel is nice boy. I liked him very much as Dr. Evil's son in Austin Powers movies. Also, I wonder how I would look as redhead.
Poor Todd Eldredge. He needs tiny training wheels on his skates, does he not? He skates, and St. Bernards are placed on alert.
The other skaters look ridiculous. I, however, am elegant. And I am tired of sitting.
The scores are taking forever. The numbers must be so high they are having trouble adding them up. Maybe judge from my country wishes to make a deal. You say Soviet bloc; I say trading block.
Soon, I will know. Any second, they flash numbers. I will celebrate.
I am Jurgen.
I wish for gold.