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Thursday, February 25, 2010

Yeah, so here’s why I hate figure skating.*










The near-awkward dirty dancing poses with grimace? Noooo, but close. It’s the near-fanatical emotion with which the commentators describe the routines, almost like the joy shown by storm chasers a mile away from an F5.

Not the regular commentators either—I mean former pros.

It’s almost the complete opposite of most other pro sports, where *civilians* like Al Michaels or Marv Albert inject a year’s worth of emotion into every game as former jocks like Troy Aikman (who tends to offer insightful comments), do so with all the energy of an audience at a state-sponsored execution.

The worst part?

Before the jump is even completed though, said fanboys immediately break down how the triple Lutz-triple toeloop only went around 2.9 times, and that the skater is now essentially finished in the competition.

I’d caught one routine today in the background while I had headphones on editing. I *thought* I was watching a unique performance by the skater, and turned up the TV to listen to the results. First thing I hear is how awkward the routine was, and how many points would be deducted, and so on.

Near as I can tell, you don’t get that from other pro sports. Tim McCarver notwithstanding, former players typically wait for a play to be over before breaking it down, let alone go batshit.

Not in the land of the triple Salchow.

Maybe it’s the emotion of the moment which takes over. (Or maybe it’s the sequins and Vivaldi.) Insider trivia or anecdotes are one thing, but people like to see the end of a play for themselves without anyone telegraphing it for them.

Even if they’re right.

*Yes, I respect anyone who gets up at 5:00 am to do anything, least of all someone who trains daily for 10 hours straight x 15 years.

1 comment:

Jetpacks said...

You put your finger right on it. I'd hear those fanboys talking about the 2.9 revolutions, and I'm going, "What the hell are you talking about? I can't see in slow motion!" But like most Olympic sports, where .004 can be the difference between Gold and a lifetime of endorsements or going back to Podunk Mountain to try to find a job as a bobsled coach, it's gotten detailed and intricate for a reason. There isn't enough separation anymore between the best and the almost best - which is why the punkass mullet boy from Russia was so pissed off.