Figuring out figure skating

Decades ago, while still in my childhood, I remember the family gathering around the old black-and-white Motorola to watch the Olympics.

These were the Winter Olympics, mind you. I have it in my head that I enjoyed watching the Winter Olympics long before I ever watched the Summer Olympics. I don't know why that is, but it could have been because of some of the rather exotic sports we were seeing: slalom, luge, bobsled, cross country skiing, and the oddly named skeleton.

I think one of the reasons I liked the Winter Olympics so much is that mom made waffles for us. Waffles were generally a rare breakfast treat (rare because I think it was rather labor intensive for breakfast), but she'd occasionally make them as our evening meal during the Olympics. I particularly enjoyed the copious amounts of Log Cabin maple syrup I was allowed to pour on my waffles, not to mention all the powdered sugar sprinkled on top.

It's a wonder I'm still alive.

One thing I don't remember seeing was curling, which has now become one of my favorite events to watch. But there was always the figure skating.

Ahh, figure skating. That was back in the days before it had become so highly nationalized. It was pretty girls doing impossible twirls in the air. It was handsome men skating backwards, complete with what seemed like 100-mile-per-hour spins.

I couldn't even skate forward without falling, much less backward. Still can't. This was magical stuff.

But somewhere between then and now, we've reached the Kamila Valieva saga, the 15-year-old Russian figure skater who, for one night, was magical in her own right in the women's individual figure skating in the Beijing Olympics.

She was expected to win the gold. That's how good she was. Then, on Thursday morning our time, she fell or stumbled three times during her routine, something she never does. She ultimately finished fourth, out of the medals, devastated, and pretty much emotionally violated by the adults, coaches and teammates around her. That's the Russian system, I guess.

The general consensus is that she probably shouldn't have been competing in the first place. A banned drug was found in her system back in December (a heart medication supposedly belonging to her grandfather and taken by mistake. Yeah, right. And the Russians didn't interfere with our elections, either. Sheesh).

She was allowed to compete in Beijing by the Court of Arbitration for Sport, whatever that is, even though Russia has a long and palpable history of doping its athletes. Russia, in fact, has been officially banned as a competitive nation for this Olympics but is allowed to compete as the Russian Olympic Committee (ROC in the medal standings). The CAS cited otherwise "irreparable harm" as its reason to let the equivalent of a high school sophomore compete.

You've got to be kidding. You can't compete because you're doping your athletes, but if you change your name, you're good.

What we saw on global television the other night was the systemic demolition of a 15-year-old girl before our very eyes, pathetically clutching a stuffed panda bear doll while her world crumbled around her. Valieva was berated, not comforted, by her coach when she first came off the ice. It was worse than pathetic. It was as cold as the ice in the rink. It was as cold as a Siberian heart.

The International Olympic Committee is now facing a serious integrity issue, if it hasn't already, over the past decades of doping antics.

And why are children allowed to compete in this type of competitive world?

Meanwhile, I think the Court of Arbitration for Sport, established in 1984, has some explaining to do, too. I just hope it doesn't become involved in the current Major League Baseball negotiations. We wouldn't want to do "irreparable harm" to the sport, would we? Yikes.

The Beijing Olympics are in their fading hours now, trying its best to squeeze out a semblance of success in a world of covid and controversy. Empty stands. Empty gestures. Empty hearts.

I miss my waffles.