Let me start out by saying that this was my first Nationals, and I was very impressed. I’m not totally unfamiliar with big competitions, having gone to Skate America in Indianapolis and Worlds in Halifax, but this was easily the best-run event of its kind I’d been to (and I’ve worked MANY science fiction conventions, so I know good organization when I see it!). The bus schedule, in fact the whole bus set-up, in itself was a godsend. And, for the most part, things happened where and when they were supposed to, which is a major accomplishment.

From this you must realize that my failure to attend a wider variety of events was strictly of my own choosing; no, I didn’t spend my time shopping, sight-seeing or catching up with friends --I simply attended every men’s practice from Sunday afternoon through the following Sunday morning, even skipping most of the Ladies’ final! So you’ll understand why my remarks on Ladies are so sketchy--I only saw them if nothing else was going on at the time!

Things in Minneapolis were interesting from the get-go. Several contenders were conspicuous by their absence that first day, including Paul Wylie, Alex Chang, Mark Mitchell, Erik Larson and Christopher Bowman. Personally, I was dreading the whole thing--too many stories flying around featuring variations on the theme of "new and improved." The new Rudy Galindo, once again a solo skater; the improved Erik Larson, with athleticism to match his artistry; the second coming of Mark Mitchell, whose undoubted popularity had been overshadowed by the failure of almost anyone to take him seriously; possible great strides from Craig Heath, no longer sharing his coach with Christopher Bowman; Paul Wylie’s re-dedication to skating after the previous year’s triumphant Nationals and horrendous Worlds; and who knew what to expect from the pairing of Chris and Toller? All unknown elements, added to a cast that featured a possible quad from the little-known Michael Chack, the unpredictableness of Shep Clark, the fan-appeal of Doug Mattis, and the imperative to repeat that would surely make itself known to Todd Eldredge. Whew! And those were only my thoughts at the beginning, before I’d had a chance to see the skaters...

If, like me, you’re a student of human behavior (or nosy, which comes to the same thing), by all means go to a competition and attend as many practices as possible. Just comparing how a skater looks in practice to competition performance is instructive. Some, like Kurt Browning, are competitors, rising to meet the challenge. Those with nerves don’t fare as well; we watched many great routines that we were hard-pressed later to explain to friends who’d only seen how bad they’d looked in competition. Foremost here I think of Rudy Galindo.. I don’t know what I expected of him; strength, certainly, and a degree of polish that comes from years of experience at the World level. But the elegance and grace he showed in practice astounded me. The ballet training was evident in almost every line, and his layback, so unusual in male skaters, was superb. His spins were fast and his speed good, but none of this translated to a good performance. The disastrous long program, in which at one point he lost his place entirely, is not what I remember most of Rudy from Minneapolis, thank heavens. Other than Rudy, the person I noticed most at that first practice was Aren Nielsen. We’d only seen him once, on TV at the Olympic festival, and didn’t know what to expect. Foolish mortals! Two of us, at least, were felled quite soon. (Why can I never leave a competition without having become a rabid fan of at least one more skater? Enough, already!)

We had been watching the spin combinations in the OPs, and how most of the guys lost speed when they changed position or direction, but not Aren. He used his hands with grace and eloquence, which seems to be a dying art in figure skating, especially among the guys, and he had an intensity that reminded me of ... it was not until nearly the end of the week that it came to me: Petr Barna. But whereas Petr seems to finally be overcoming his performance anxiety, we watched Aren wind himself up tighter and tighter all week until it would have taken a miracle for him to pull off a clean long program. Painful to watch, but fascinating.

The first few practices were an adventure: getting to know the skaters’ routines and music, how they reacted to miscues, mistakes, and other skaters; their relationships with their coaches, what they wore to practice... Inquiring minds wanted to know. And surprises there were, besides the balletic Rudy. Shep, always the free spirit, had adapted a move of Charlie Tickner’s, what we’d taken to calling a solo death spiral, and it was breathtaking. Aren’s front and back spread eagle were perfectly beautiful; Doug’s playing-with-the-audience bits never failed to amuse; the ever-present skid spirals (was that a required element this year or something?) were particularly strong from Mark and Craig; and Todd--well, the self-assured young man from Halifax, who astounded us all by having one perfect practice after another, couldn’t land his jumps in Minneapolis. Paul, when he did arrive, was landing most of his. And Chris...wasn’t there. Chris’ nonappearance was the topic of conversation.

The other stragglers arrived one by one, but no Chris. Rumors abounded. He was sick. Toller couldn’t get away. He hadn’t had sufficient practice time, and wasn’t coming. He knew he couldn’t compete with Todd. Think of a story, and we probably heard it. But I certainly wasn’t prepared for Chris when he finally arrived, mid-week. A little pale, possibly substantiating the illness rumor, a little quieter than usual off the ice, but still demonstrably Chris. Until he put on his skates. And then I was scared. Chris Bowman, to me, has always been mostly personality. He’s a strong skater, which a lot of people overlook, but others are as good or better. If you were at Halifax, you witnessed Chris’ charisma winning him a medal and high scores that many who could only watch on TV couldn’t fathom. But we felt it in Halifax, the magic. Strongest then, in the closing moments of his long program, but always present throughout the week (expect maybe during figures--we were only a few feet away from that exchange between Chris and Frank Carroll that you saw on TV--and the whole morning was like that). In Minneapolis, the magic was missing. The skating was nearly flawless, the jumps perfectly executed, the timing impeccable. But there was no life in it. Discipline was one thing, but I couldn’t handle a Chris who would skate his warm up laps and not make eye contact with fans. This was unheard-of. He gazed blankly into space, and when someone did something to which he’d have to react, his smile seemed forced and empty. Chris is a particular favorite of mine, and I didn’t handle this stranger in his body very well, I’m afraid. I took it almost personally--which brings up another point about being at one of these things for an intensive period of time; you get caught up in it quite thoroughly. And not just in your favorites. You can get to care quite intensely about how almost anyone does (at least, anyone that you don’t actively dislike). I had noticed this at Worlds more so than at Skate America, and it held true for me here. I guess skating fans (as opposed to fans of a particular skater) just hate to see anyone skate at less than their potential. You had only to listen to the reaction of the audience to Shep’s triumphant OP, where it was harder to tell who’d been more pleased with his performance--Shep, his coach, or the viewers, to realize this.

To return to Chris, by the time of the OP, I really feared what I’d see. Another strong, uninteresting skater we didn’t need. And that’s what we got--for a few seconds. After the skater in black landed his combination, a huge smile signalled the return of Chris Bowman. I was thrilled. And then the "other" Chris skated in the long program, and practically handed the medal to Todd. I feel sure, with the emotions that had been so apparent after the OP, and the way he’d been scored, that if Chris had skated similarly, melding his new strengths with his old, he’d have had a good chance at winning. Certainly, Todd was not perfect. But it wasn’t to be. Oh well, change the subject.

Coaches... there were several interesting coaches in Minneapolis. Frank Carroll’s relationship with Craig Heath seemed much less stormy than with his previous star pupil, and he seemed positively avuncular with his girls. Toller seemed remote but Ellen quite approachable, so Chris had one of each. Robin Cousins was quite interesting. He was more physical than the other coaches--possibly because he’s still a more active skater himself. He worked as much with demonstration and body language and gesture as with mere words, and spread his advice around to all skaters in his group (sometimes to the detriment of Doug, I think). We were particularly interested when he worked with Mark--many female eyes lit up at that combination, and at the thought of Mark’s possible emulation of certain elements of Robin’s style--already the possibilities were evident in the lovely skid spiral. (Seeing Mark with Peggy Fleming also brought up interesting possibilities.) And I mustn’t forget Sandy’s favorite coach--although we didn’t see him work much--yes, Bill Fauver looked great (as always). And if you’re ever in the mood for one of those "how could we be so stupid" stories, ask me about the guy we saw outside the arena who we thought looked a little like Peter Oppegard, only to meet him later on the bus and hear the others address him as "Peter"!

Without going back and looking at the videotapes (and I do certainly recommend this year’s tapes; they did an excellent job for the most part), what I remember most is the skaters and not the performances per se. We all sensed in Doug a certain disenchantment with what he was doing; the "cute" routine was obviously wearing on him, and it must be difficult for a mature man to be thought of as "adorable." I had always liked him a lot, and wanted quite desperately for him to place well, but the final move in the long program (which in practice had been a single axel, double axel, triple axel sequence that was stunning when he--occasionally--landed it) was changed to a most unexpected back flip--to the delight of most of the audience, and our horror. It was obviously a gesture to the skating establishment, and it came as no surprise to hear that he’s recently turned pro. Doug’s charm (like Chris’) almost masks his talent; the poise he displayed in his skating, the finished quality of each move, and the way he interpreted the clever choreography (Robin’s, I presume) point to a skater who should make an excellent professional. Doug’s grin was enchanting, but seemed to be present almost automatically. Craig, on the other hand, has a smile which it is impossible not to return. He seems like one of those genuinely nice guys, and it’s a shame that he hasn’t yet made his mark in the skating community. His skills and polish certainly warrant it, and his gymnastics training lends an incredible flexibility to some of his moves (his closing pose was stunning). And, wonder of wonders, he won the figures competition, performing in black jersey tights, a white shirt, black velvet vest, and red bow tie! It was worth getting up at 6 and spending several hours in a very cold, almost empty arena to see that. Nice that at least one (but only one) of the competitors is still doing his figures! He became a particular favorite of the whole group, and when, in his "Lawrence of Arabia" routine, he unexpectedly interprets a sudden musical shift by going into a perfect spread eagle, the collective gasp/sigh never failed to follow.

A newcomer on the scene was Michael Chack, who reminded me a little of Matthew Hall with his easy-going, self-assured manner. We saw no signs of his fabled quad all week--in fact, he had problems with a lot of his lesser jumps. Then, at the last practice on Sunday morning, when Liz Carroll and I were casually chatting about the events of the week, something made us both watch Michael--and there it was. Perfectly executed. And not a toe loop--though I can’t remember what exact jump it was! Afraid I’m not much good at that, but a quad it definitely was. Now if only he could land it in competition...

We didn’t ignore Todd just because he was one of the favorites. Halifax had been my first time to see him live, and he’d been so consistent in practice that I’d worried for Kurt, Viktor and Chris. Not so here. His jumps, even when they were landed, seemed to be at a strange angle in the air. His new long program (to Les Mis) had some nice elements, but didn’t show (I thought) any artistic progress from the previous year. Certainly, he didn’t seem to have a wrap on the Gold, although watching him in the "Kiss and Cry" area after the long program, he certainly knew he’d won long before we’d figured it out. I was pleased to see the improvement in his practice outfits--the previous ones had seemed too juniorish; the new identical ones in navy and black, with their simple notch collar and sashed waist, had a simplicity that emphasized his grace. But I liked him best in the dimly-lit, poorly attended exhibition practice. There couldn’t have been more than 50 of us watching, the few lights on lent a dark red glow to the ice, and Todd was dressed in warm-up pants and a t-shirt. I thought that particular rendition of "Hot in the City" showed a potential that Todd has yet to achieve. It was relaxed and easy, a bit sexy, a bit fun. Maybe a little more maturity, a little more time to get used to being in the top group, will give him the confidence to grow artistically. I think he can be the best we’ve seen. Maybe a new choreographer...

I feel I should at least mention some of the others. Colin Vanderveen seemed to have a great sense of fun, and his OP featured an incredible split move executed on the sides of his skating boots that was a real attention-getter. Erik Larson had changed less than we’d been led to expect, and still showed the lyricism I loved, and came up with yet another new sit spin combination--where does he get these moves! His skid spiral was also a thing of beauty. Alex Chang had some dance moves (modern, rather than ballet) in his program that were very interesting, and not much done in the amateur field these days (reminiscent of Robin). Danny Duran--well, I almost felt sorry for him. The judges left little doubt by the way they marked him that they have no intention of ever allowing him to go to Worlds again. And Richard Sears gave one disastrous performance after another, to write himself out of contention.

That leaves Paul Wylie as the only person I haven’t talked about... People who know me as a rabid Paul Wylie fan were confused by my reaction to Minneapolis. I guess I’m just contrary. The actual men’s competitions in Minneapolis could best be described as the World’s largest meeting of the Paul Wylie fan club. The favoritism of the audience was overwhelming. And when the judges echoed this, I guess I became even more of a Mark Mitchell supporter than I had been previously. I thought he showed tremendous growth, and I thought he and Paul skated excellently (and evenly) in the long--therefore, since Mark had been ahead entering the final, we thought he’d gotten the medal. But not so. Opinions among my group were divided, but fandom in general seems to support Paul. But I think he’s blown his chance now by another bad performance at Worlds, and won’t get the benefit of the doubt again. Mark will most likely finally be given his chance. I think. I hope. I’m not sure Paul is cut out for competition. But I certainly hope he doesn’t give up skating, as his presence in the field is one that can’t be replaced.