The summer skating deluge continues, and like everyone else, I’m not remotely caught up. Canada held a series of summer regional meets, with most of the country’s top athletes showing up at one or more. There was a significant club competition in the United States every weekend from mid-July through mid-August. The season’s first senior B internationals, the Asian Open and Philadelphia Summer International, attracted athletes from a wider range of countries than ever before. South Korea held a qualifying event, showcasing its growing depth of talent and creating a pecking order of top contenders. Russia and China have both held test skates, too, although video wasn’t permitted at those events, perhaps in a quest to save fans’ sanity.
Meanwhile, some of us have jobs and families, not to mention new episodes of Game of Thrones to watch.
What’s a blogger to do when she wants to say everything about Nationals? Someone with more restraint – or an editor – might just skip stuff, but skating fans hate it when you skip stuff. As it does almost every year, NBC blacked out the live performances of a number of ladies and ice dancers in the earlier warm-up groups, and Twitter threw a fit. So I’m going to indulge my completist tendencies and cover everything I have an opinion about. If you haven’t read the first part of my Nationals recap, start there. This is a continuation of that post, not a stand-alone sequel.
It’s been an ugly couple of weeks in the United States, and watching figure skating has given me some emotional relief from current events. At the same time, Nationals have reminded me that America’s strength comes from the diversity of its citizens and residents, and that my country has a long track record of undermining that strength. From the 1880’s until the end of World War II, Chinese-Americans like Nathan Chen, Karen Chen, and Vincent Zhou endured laws that restricted immigration, curtailed civil rights, and stoked anti-Chinese sentiment, using rhetoric that will sound familiar to anyone following the news lately. In the 1940’s, Japanese-Americans like Mirai Nagasu, Maia Shibutani, and Alex Shibutani were stripped of their livelihoods and property and forced to live in internment camps, while European Jews, like Jason Brown’s ancestors (and my own), were turned away from American borders despite facing almost certain death in their countries of origin. In the 1950’s, Americans of many backgrounds were targeted in anti-Communist inquisitions, but Russian immigrants and their descendants – people like Alex Krasnozhon and Anthony Ponomarenko – became particularly vulnerable to interrogation, imprisonment, and professional blacklisting. In retrospect, none of these violations of civil and human rights made America safer, and several harmed the United States economically. In this, as in most things, sports are a microcosm of society, and an illustration of what we have to lose through ignorance, paranoia, and bullying.
I want them all to skate brilliantly, and I know most of them are going to screw up.
We have reached the pinnacle of these field guides – in my mind, at least. The ladies are the headliners in figure skating, which pleases me as a feminist, but no discipline fires up my fannish passions or depletes my booze reserves as much as men’s singles. In what I’m certain is a gift from the skating gods to me personally, the senior men’s field is also the largest one at Nationals this year, with so many athletes earning a bye through the qualifying rounds that there are a total of 21 men competing.
And that’s with one big name out of the running. For the third year in a row, the reigning men’s national champion will not return to defend his title. Jeremy Abbott took a break in 2015, which might or might not be permanent; Jason Brown bowed out in 2016 after re-aggravating a back injury. Now, in the middle of one of the most successful seasons of his long career, Adam Rippon has broken his foot and will be off the ice for several months. Rippon’s absence doesn’t just remove a front runner, but reshuffles the deck, opening the door for some young phenoms and hardworking mid-listers.
In case you’re just joining me, I’ve already written four field guides for this year’s Nationals:
Junior Ice Dance, which will be as hotly contested as the senior event and almost as technically marvelous
Junior Men, the men’s event where you’re most likely to see a quadruple loop attempt
Junior Ladies, with some very small girls doing some very big jumps, plus an explanation of the four-point rating scale I’m using in all of the field guides
With so many competitors in the field, I’m dividing my men’s field guide into two posts. This one will cover the first 11 skaters, and the other will look at the remaining 10. I’m also diverging slightly from my usual order so that the top skaters will be more evenly distributed between the two posts. Instead of alphabetical order by last name, the skaters in this field guide are in alphabetical order by first name.
Since I’m writing about senior-level competitors, I’ve cranked up my sarcasm and my critical eye to full strength, and I’m going to be hard on almost everyone, even my favorites. I’m also in the delightful position of genuinely liking all of the top American men, and I have a soft spot for a lot of the guys lower in the ranks. I want them all to skate brilliantly, and I know most of them are going to screw up. On top of that, only two men can qualify for the World Championships, so there’s even less room for error than usual. It’s going to be brutal, and some very talented athletes will see their seasons end here.
With that in mind, I’m adding one more rating category for the senior men’s and ladies’ guides. The hierarchy I used for juniors and dance works for most of the skaters here, too: Front Runners for the athletes most strongly contending for the title, Dark Horses with a shot at the podium, On the Rise for the up-and-coming mid-listers, and Just Happy to Be Here for those who are thrilled just to have qualified. But in large fields like this one, there are a few who defy categorization, either because they’re so mercurial and unpredictable, or because their trajectory in the sport hasn’t followed a typical path. They’re wonderful at their best, excruciating at their worst, and lovable at all times. These skaters are Why I Drink.