Print

Email story

Comment

Email editor

2006 Winter Olympics

Give him a big hug

It's time to embrace Johnny Weir as America's most popular figure skater.

By GARY SHELTON
Published February 15, 2006

TURIN, Italy - Somebody stop him at the border. Somebody seize his passport. Someone take his sequins hostage.

Whatever you do, do not allow Johnny Weir to defect to Russia.

America needs him. Now more than ever.

He is flamboyant, he is funny, and yes, he admits he is feminine. So what? Makeup, mascara and all, Weir is the new face of United States figure skating. And once those of you who need to get over yourself do, you're going to think he's terrific.

As long as he does not change his name to Boris, that is.

Weir spun his way into second place Tuesday night in the short program of men's figure skating, scoring a personal best and putting himself in fine position for a medal Thursday. Weir trails Russia's Evgeni Plushenko by 10 points.

The thing is, after the competition, Weir sounded as if he was ready to chase Plushenko all the way back to Moscow. It happens. Study enough Russian skaters and sooner or later a guy will start channeling Doctor Zhivago.

"Russia has been inspiring to me since I rode horses when I was real young," Weir said. "It's amazing that a dynasty lasts that long and how much struggle they've had. I know we have had our struggles in America, too, but I grew up here, so it doesn't seem like that big a deal.

"I've always been interested in Russia - how vast a country it is and the people and the history and art and music."

Lately, Weir has watched a DVD on the history of the czars. Russian skaters gave him jackets with "CCCP" on them, and he has worn them to practice. He is teaching himself to speak Russian, often conversing with his choreographer in the language. Also, he thinks Drago was robbed in Rocky IV.

Okay. I made that last one up. But you get the picture, and it looks like borscht. Either that, or perhaps Weir has discovered a way to annoy those Olympic fans who still have fallout shelters in their back yards. For the record: Weir doesn't care what they think.

Weir does that. He stirs things. He steps on toes. He makes the people in charge nervous. And how can you not love that about the guy?

The thing is, for all of Weir's outrageousness, there is a sincerity to him, an ability to giggle at his own glitter. It is a tone that is missing from the bombast of, say, Bode Miller, the skier who wants to have it both ways when it comes to fame and fortune. When is the last time you heard Miller laugh at himself?

Yet, here is Weir, the guy who answers to the nickname "Tinkerbell." The guy who admits he is "princessy." The guy who referred to himself as "the prettiest flower on the pond."

Yeah, him.

There is something to be said for being comfortable in your own skin, isn't there? Weir has that gripped with both hands. Although the trend in men's figure skating costumes has become more conservative over the years - think less "Liberace" and more "head waiter" - Weir has remained loyal to his lace. He even names his costumes. "Care Bears on Acid," for instance. Even his single red glove he calls "Camille."

In other words, Weir is a hoot. Consider a few sound bites from Tuesday night.

On how he prepared for his competition: "I slept for about five hours, then I got up and did my hair and put on my fake face."

On why he hasn't attempted a quad in practice. "Some mornings you feel horrible, like Nick Nolte's mug shot. If I wake up and feel like that, there is no quad."

On Chinese skater Zhang Dan, a woman who fell horribly in the pairs competition: "That girl. I would buy her diamonds if I could afford it. I have no idea how she got up. It seemed like the type of fall that could render someone unable to have children."

On the Olympic Village: "It's very cramped and dirty. No matter how many times they mop it, and I've mopped it myself, it still feels dirty."

On his performance: "It's over, it's done. It's Valentine's Day, and I can go out and buy myself a rose and some chocolate."

The longer Weir talks, the longer he skates, the more you find yourself grinning at him. He is the son of a former linebacker and an ex-cheerleader, and praise be, he didn't take either DNA strain seriously.

This is a guy who refers to his hair color as "chocolate-covered cherries." A guy who went to Rome to shop and almost bought a mink-lined umbrella. A guy who once chastised a reporter because he was wearing a scarf, not a boa. A guy who adores Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie.

Yeah, him.

The thing is, Weir also can skate. He has won three national championships, and if Plushenko happens to get lost on the way to the rink before the long program Thursday, the sky is his limit.

"Maybe if it wasn't Plushenko," Weir said. "He's over 90 points. He has almost as much in one program as some competitors do in the whole competition. I'm not conceding. I'm being realistic. I know how difficult it's going to be.

"If he falls three times, maybe, just maybe, someone can squeeze in by a point."

Would you prefer him to growl and snarl a little more? Would you prefer him to be more conservative so the stereotype of flamboyant skaters doesn't feed other stereotypes? Would you prefer him to wave his flag a little more and admire Russia's a little less?

The beauty of Weir is that he seems not to care what anyone thinks. But before you decide, consider something else he said about his relationship with Russian skaters.

"Being an American and being accepted into another culture ... I supposed that's what being an Olympian is all about."

Perhaps it's also about having a little substance. And some talent and some charisma and some perspective. With Michelle Kwan's departure, perhaps it's about watching someone about to blossom into America's most popular skater.

Yeah, him.

[Last modified February 15, 2006, 00:14:18]