One skate, and Kwan's career hung in balance

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© St. Petersburg Times
published February 22, 2002

SALT LAKE CITY -- She has everything. Remind yourself of that as you consider her disappointment.

She is a champion. She is a celebrity. She has money and medals and moments to spare. She is healthy, hearty and, most of the time, happy. She is young, bright, beloved.

It is only in the Olympics, it seems, that life roughs up Michelle Kwan.

It happened again Thursday night. Once more, Kwan let a golden moment slip away. Once again, a teenaged American teammate outjumped her to steal her moment, her medal and her memory.

This time, it was Sarah Hughes, flying up from fourth place and taking advantage of Kwan's mistakes to win the gold medal. It was a staggering comeback, especially from Hughes' point of view. She sank to the dressing room floor in disbelief as the final scores were posted.

It was a gorgeous little moment, full of smiling and shrieking and acting a little silly.

It was so nice that you almost didn't notice the pain on Kwan's face.

Once more, the Olympics have eluded Kwan. This time, she stumbled coming out of the triple flip, bracing herself with her right hand at one point. Her jumps, always her weak point, seemed to be a struggle. She finished with a bronze, and even in an Olympics where everyone is jumping the judges, it's hard to suggest she deserved better.

What a shame. For most of America, this will be Kwan's legacy. She will be the person trying to hide her disappointment as another skater swoops past her for the gold. She will be an athlete who never quite showed her greatness when the most people were watching.

"It just wasn't meant to be," Kwan said. "It just was not my night. It was a bummer."

This was to have been her moment. Yes, she has been a terrific skater for years. But in figure skating, the ultimate barometer of a career is still the Olympics. For greatness to be admitted, gold is required. Anything else is Phil Mickelson on ice.

More than anything else, Kwan was skating to prove she could measure up to the pressure of the moment, that she could have her finest performance when the situation called for it most.

For Kwan, it stopped being about money long ago. Nor was this about celebrity. Kwan conquered both fame and fortune long ago.

For Kwan, this night was about history, about defining her career.

Once again, her moment got in the way of someone else's.

It's a bottom-line world, even in the land of sequins and spins. As much as Kwan has protested how she does not need a gold medal to ensure her happiness, as much as those around her would nod in agreement, she needed a skate like this to validate her career to the masses who do not follow the sport closely.

Without a gold, Kwan would be remembered as a magical skater, as a successful skater, as a charismatic skater. Always, however, there would be an asterisk attached to her name. As endearing as her career has been, and as enduring, this result is going to be the way the masses remember her.

Yeah, but how did she do in the Olympics?

Oh.

Maybe it isn't fair. Skating devotees would rush to point out that Dan Marino never won a Super Bowl and Ernie Banks never won a World Series. The harsh truth is that, this is the second time in two Olympics Kwan let a lead from the short program get away. In most sports, athletes get chided for that.

"I wanted to come here and win gold," said Kwan, who admitted crying. "I wanted to be remembered in the category of Dorothy Hamill, Peggy Fleming and Brian Boitano. My whole goal was to leave a mark on skating."

Today, it's going to be hard not to second-guess Kwan's decision to replace coach Frank Carroll with, well, anyone. She came into the Games without a coach. Perhaps a coach could have worked on the lack of jumping skills that, for two Olympiads now, has caught up to Kwan.

She has grown up on the ice. Eight years ago, she was a 13-year-old waif on the fringe of the Nancy-Tonya controversy. It was Kwan's spot that was surrendered when skating officials figured out a way to get the injured Nancy Kerrigan a ticket to Lillehammer. Then, four years ago in Nagano, Kwan seemed destined for gold before Tara Lipinski came from behind by outjumping her to win. Still, it always appeared there was a moment promised to Kwan. In the end, there wasn't. Perhaps the pressure got to her. Can you imagine how thin the air must have been backstage as Kwan waited?

Say what you want about figure skating. It doesn't matter if you think it is pure sport or pure performance or somewhere in between. It doesn't matter if you love it or hate it. It doesn't matter if you roll your eyes at the questions about a performer's costume or choice of music or rationale over a haircut or if you understand their importance.

Regardless, you have to realize the pressure that builds as an athlete waits in the wings, trying not to think about bad ice or a bad landing or a bad judge. Twenty-eight skaters went before Kwan. That's a lot of time for blood to boil. It's a lot of time to second-guess your routine, your music and, oh, yeah, your decision to take on the Olympics by yourself.

Turns out, the Olympics beat her.

For some reason, it always does.

This was the most difficult part of Kwan's skate. She not only had to skate flawlessly, she had to do so with the entire world keeping score at home. In hindsight, perhaps an Olympic medal was too much to ask.

That's the challenge, isn't it? Skating is grace under pressure. This time, the pressure overwhelmed the grace.

Sadly, you won't remember this as Kwan's time either.

You'll remember the Olympics really never had time for her.

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