|
|
|
Mel's Editorial#12: February 10, 2005Halfway through Jeffrey Buttle's program at the recent Canadian National Championships, the majority of the arena knew he was going to win. Short of a disaster in the second half of his free skate or a miracle from his chief rival, Emanuel Sandhu, Buttle had the title locked up. He was skating better than Sandhu had all season and quad or no quad, he was bringing an entire arena onto the ice with him. I looked over at my friend, who had been pulling for him all week to discovered that we both had tears in our eyes. However, my tears weren't because of Buttle, even though he was delighting us with an amazing performance. No, my tears were the remnants from the emotions that the previous skater had caused. I guess you should know something about me first: I cry like it's going out of style. The Little Mermaid has been my favourite movie since its debut in 1989 and I always cry at the end. Any movie with a happy ending...tears; for that matter, I give the same visible reaction to a movie with a sad ending. But skating...skating brings even me to a higher tier of emotional investment. When any skater exceeds expectations, even someone I don't particularly like, I immediately feel a lump in my throat, the tears welling up in my eyes with the outburst of joy playing out on the ice in front of me. I am, rather unquestionably, a giant sap. So I knew that I would cry if Chris Mabee skated well. I just didn't know how deeply it would affect, and I never dreamed that he would give the performance of his life as I sat in the front row of the John Labatt Center, my hands clenched into fists, my legs shaking as if they had a mind of their own. I first saw footage of Chris Mabee a year ago, from last year's Canadians. I was completely taken by his artistic style and I jumped for joy when he brought home a bronze medal from the 2004 World Junior Championships. With great interest anticipation, I followed his career this season, and was so disappointed when a family tragedy prevented him from skating his best at the Junior Grand Prix Final. When I made the decision to attend Canadians last month, Chris Mabee was one of the skaters I was most looking forward to watching. After an otherwise great short program marred by an error on the flip jump, I knew that Chris would have to skate his best to grab a spot on the National team. I knew it was within his reach and I prayed that he would be able to find the strength inside himself to do it when it mattered so much, in an arena so near his hometown. It's hard to describe what happened when Mabee began his free skate that night. He was the first skater of the final flight, but he skated with such flow and such ease that except for the crowded arena, I'd have thought I had stumbled upon one of his practice sessions at home. With his first triple loop nailed, only a slight uneasiness remained. I knew that if he got the next jump, he was on. My stomach clenched involuntarily as he went up, around, one, two, three, and a half times. Not only was it a solid triple axel, it was a beauty! I cheered excitedly, barely noticing that he tacked a double toe loop on the end. He smiled. The crowd was with him, and he was going to do this. The next four minutes were a blur. At one point toward the end, I leaned over and asked one of my friends, "Can we stand up yet?" She replied that she didn't think he was finished jumping yet. I didn't care. He'd already skated his heart out, and that warranted a standing ovation. I managed to sit tight as he finished his circular footwork, and waited with anticipation while he moved down the ice and set up for his final jump. A textbook triple salchow, a couple of exuberant fist pumps and one of the most ecstatic grins I'd ever seen, coupled with the roar of the crowd. He began his straightline footwork, moving down the ice towards us. There were tears falling freely down my face. Perhaps I was still on a high from the events of the pairs' free skate, just hours earlier, but for me, this had just become one of the most emotional nights of skating that I had ever witnessed. As soon as the footwork was completed, I saw the Mabee family leap to their feet out of the corner of my eye. Without hesitation, I leapt with them and watched with inexplicable pride as I saw the rest of the arena stand during his final combination spin. Chris's emotion at the end of his performance was beautiful. So excited by giving the performance of his life, more or less at home, he forgot to bow and instead brought his hands to his face and skated over to embrace his family. From just about five feet away, I grinned ear to ear while he hugged his brother and sister, then embraced his mother and other family members. Five minutes later, Jeff Buttle came out and skated just as well as Chris had. I don't want to take anything away from Jeff's wonderful performance, but for me, the championship went to Chris Mabee. There's something raw about his skating, something that makes me feel like I'm watching a kid who was brought up on a sheet of ice, something about him that assures me that he's having the time of his life out there. Chris could be the future of Canadian skating and the best part is that he doesn't seem to know it. In a pressure-filled environment, he reminded us all that not everyone is in this sport for the medals - some just skate because they love it. Archives -- Contact -- Features -- Guestbook -- Links -- Webmistress (c)2005 Melanie L. Hoyt All rights reserved. |