U.S. skater Czisny teeters on the edge of greatness
By JOHN ROMANO
Published January 13, 2006
ST. LOUIS - In the quiet of a nearly-empty arena, she is a star.
In the early morning hours when no one is there, she glides across the ice with a passion and precision few can even imagine.
In the absence of expectation, Alissa Czisny soars.
Unfortunately, these are the moments never seen. The performances that pass without applause. This is Czisny at practice, and at her best.
Exasperating, isn't it? How potential can be both blessing and curse? Czisny is one of the finest figure skaters America has to offer, and for too long there have been questions of why she wasn't better.
You saw it Thursday night at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships. Her spins were magical. Her footwork splendid. It was a performance to behold, except for the two jumps that ended with her sprawled on the ice.
And, just like that, she was back in the position of explaining herself. Of the "silly mistake" on a double axel. Of "not trusting" the triple flip.
Of being in fifth place when second or third had been in sight.
This is why, in the days leading up to the nationals, the talk was of other performers. Of Michelle Kwan not showing up, or Sasha Cohen finally arriving. This is why Kimmie Meissner was on the cover of USA Today, and Emily Hughes was everywhere else.
Czisny has been the one nobody could quite figure out. The one who looks brilliant one moment, and lost the next. The one forever on the edge of creating something special.
"In prior seasons, I've practiced really well and then gotten on the ice and been afraid, maybe a little bit nervous," Czisny said. "I was afraid of not doing my best. I would get out there and start doubting myself."
By virtually any standard, Czisny is remarkably accomplished. She graduated early from high school and won a full academic scholarship at Bowling Green, where she made the Dean's List while majoring in international studies.
Along with her twin sister and mother, she drives more than 1,000 miles a week to rinks in Detroit and Canton to work with coaches and choreographers, using reading lights in the car to keep up with her studies.
And, yet, something was missing.
For all her successes, Czisny remained tentative in competitions. Unfulfilled in her promise. So she sought out a sports psychologist. Eventually, her coaches began simulating events in practice by putting Czisny in her competition outfits and recruiting bystanders to create the illusion of a crowd in the bleachers.
Sounds silly, and maybe it was. But three months ago, Czisny had a breakthrough of sorts. Cohen pulled out of Skate America at the last moment and Czisny, her replacement, had four days' notice. She placed second.
A week later, Czisny left Skate Canada with a gold medal.
"This season, I've been more comfortable on the ice," Czisny said. "I've been able to focus more on my skating."
The talk of underachieving should have ended there. Or rather the buzz of expectation should have begun. Except Czisny still had a major event to go.
She had more than a month to prepare and was the lone U.S. representative in the six-skater field of the Grand Prix final.
She skated poorly, and finished sixth. Czisny blamed it on a faulty skate, but it fed the perception of a skater failing to rise to the moment.
Just as Thursday's performance did. On judges' cards, Czisny was better than everyone but Cohen in skating skills, transitions, choreography and interpretation. But the two falls dropped her to fifth.
Because the free program Saturday night has greater scoring opportunities, Czisny remains in the running for a top-three finish.
And, to be fair, the pressure on Czisny goes beyond the typical teenage athlete. It is well past what type of medal she wears around her neck.
The Czisnys live in the same Ohio apartment complex they were in nearly two decades ago when the twins were born. They talked of buying a house, but the cost of elite skating lessons made it impossible.
Her father is a manager for a manufacturing company and her mother long ago gave up her job to ferry the girls back and forth between practices. By the time Alissa was 8, her coach in Bowling Green said she could do no more for her. So Alissa started taking lessons in Cleveland. Later, she would switch to a rink in Detroit, which required a three-hour round-trip commute.
For Czisny, her success or failure is almost a referendum on a family's sacrifice.
Now at 18, she is almost caught between movements. Not as decorated as Cohen or Kwan, and not as young or precocious as Hughes and Meissner. Czisny, it seems, has fewer yesterdays and limited tomorrows.
This should be her time.
Hopefully, this can still be her moment.