Disappointment

This morning I received a text from Grace’s coach, James. He wrote with a heads-up that he is donating half of all his earnings today to earthquake relief in Haiti. He said he wanted to talk with Grace about the ethics of skating and, in particular, about skating beyond self-interest, with integrity and generosity.

And speaking of Kairos again…

I really, truly, deeply love the Olympics (especially the winter Olympics) not only because I’m a sports fan, but because I’m moved by the spirit of the Games, by the principles of international cooperation and exchange they strive to enact, and by the hope I think the Olympic Games represent for world peace and understanding. I tend to be as cynical about expressions of patriotism as I am about expressions of piety, but I’ll admit that, for me, the Olympians who represent the United States should embody what I think of as the best of the American character. American Olympic athletes should, I think, enact a spirit of generosity, of sacrifice in service not merely of individual achievement, but of the collective good. American Olympians should be athletes who inspire young people not only to strive for excellence in their sports, but to be exceptional citizens of their communities, their Country, and of the world. American Olympians should, I believe, be filled with joy at the opportunity to play their sports at the highest levels, and I don’t begrudge these athletes the fame and wealth that attend success in their sports. But I do believe that athletes should feel blessed by rather than owed the opportunity to represent their Country as Olympians and should take seriously the responsibility to act as role models of what it means to possess the highest quality of character for the generations of young athletes who will follow in their footsteps.

So when I heard Evan Lysacek call this weekend’s National Championships “a practice event” (a claim I’m quite sure he would not have made had he come in first rather than second) and Johnny Weir avow that his goal had never been to be National champion (a claim I’m quite sure he, also, wouldn’t have made had he won), I was appalled. I find those two utterances to be shockingly self-absorbed, shallow, mean-spirited, and, ultimately, to be perfect examples of what it means to be not just a poor sport, but a bad sport. Lysacek and Weir now appear to me to be small and mean, appear to possess exceptionally withered characters particularly when one contrasts their behavior with that of Ryan Bradley, who expressed with deep humility his gratitude for the opportunity to skate, his love for his sport and its fans, and his respect for his fellow competitors (and who clearly desired and worked tremendously hard in an effort to earn both the National title and an Olympic berth, but came up short in scores if not in performance).

I should, if I am to be honest, make a couple of confessions, the first of which is that I am a fan of Ryan Bradley. I love Bradley’s skating. I admire his athleticism and I’m absolutely charmed by the quality of his performances. But even more than this and even before watching this weekend’s Championship, I have admired the quality of Bradley’s character. During a year in which Bradley was preparing to skate on the Grand Prix circuit, to compete in the U.S. National Championship, and for a berth on the U.S. Men’s Olympic team, he took the time to come to Omaha, Nebraska (Omaha, for crying out loud) to work with young skaters with big dreams, one of whom was my daughter, Grace. While Bradley was here in Omaha, I’m told, he continued his training schedule, working his own skating around clinic and private lesson times. Although he must have been tired and stressed at times, he was invariably warm, enthusiastic, and kind to the skaters with whom he worked. And Grace, I know, felt herself to be a better skater for her work with Ryan Bradley. He took the skating lives of the children with whom he worked seriously and offered them a meaningful opportunity to really learn from a great, competitive skater.

My second confession is that, while I love figure skating and have for years, I am unqualified to judge who should have won either the short or long programs at this weekend’s competition. I’ll admit that I tend to agree with Elvis Stoiko that the quad is underrated in the new scoring system. And I tend to think that the new system under-values the artistic quality of figure skating. However, I don’t understand the scoring system well enough to judge whether doubling two jumps is really worse than stepping out of a triple axel or whether landing two quads but doubling an axel is really worse than falling on a quad and bobbling a few other elements. I have strong convictions about what I like and don’t like, about performances I love and those I merely admire, but I’m really not qualified to judge.

So this is not a blog entry about how Ryan Bradley should have placed at this weekend’s National Championships. Instead, this is an entry about character, about the quality of character I believe should be required for the athletes who represent the United States at the Olympic Games, in particular.

Grace and I watched the men’s Long Program together yesterday afternoon. Grace was thrilled to see “her coach” perform and do so well. We screamed when he landed his first and then his second quad and both of us got teary as his program came to a conclusion. We thrilled to the performances of Adam Rippon and Armin Mahbanoozadeh. In fact, we celebrated all of the skaters’ performances and were absolutely awe-inspired by Jeremy Abbott. Grace left the room once the outcome was clear, but I stayed to watch the follow-up interviews with the leading skaters. I wish I hadn’t. For what I’m left with is a kind of sick, sad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Of course I wish Ryan Bradley had scored in the top three. But his missing the podium is not what drives this sadness I feel. What I’m sad about is my experience of a revelation about the lack of character in two of the three men who will represent the U.S. as the Men’s National Figure Skating Team. What I’m sick about is the failure of any of the commentators or interviewers to remark either on the graciousness of Bradley in defeat or on the arrogance of Lysacek and Weir, who seemed to expect their Olympic berths as their due, who were so shockingly disrespectful to their fellow competitors, and who, I really think, dishonored their country and their sport by their callow disregard for the integrity of the 2010 National Championships.

So, I’ll watch the men skate in the Olympics come February. Maybe Grace will watch with me. But when it comes to the athletes I’ll turn to when I want to talk with my children about the intimate relationship between the quality of one’s character and the value of athletic achievement, when I want to draw their attention to an athlete who might serve as a role model not only for athletic excellence, but also for good sportsmanship, I’ll point to Ryan Bradley as an exemplar. When I’m trying to reinforce the lessons Grace learns from Jason and James about integrity, generosity, and graciousness on and off the ice, I’ll remind her of Ryan Bradley. When Grace feels downhearted or frustrated about her skating, we’ll watch Ryan Bradley’s short and long programs from this year’s championships and talk about the strength, courage, determination, and unbridled joy he brings to the sport even when times are hard. I can’t speak with any authority to the technical legitimacy of the final outcome of the Men’s National Championship, but for me and for Grace, it is Ryan Bradley who is the real Olympian.