Just let go

By Timm O'Cobhthaigh

"As I See It" column

The Appeal Tribune, July 26, 2000

This was actually a dream I had a little while ago. I believe it will speak for itself.

It was the largest and most prestigious event in figure skating. All the world's best, having dreamed of this moment, were assembled.

Amid the jumble of skaters running through their pre-event routines was a young golden-haired woman in a white sequined dress. Her lack of confidence and insecurity were evident each time she adjusted her laces, stretched her legs or in any other movement she made.

"I must not fail," she whispered to herself.

Slowly the parade of skaters marched onto the ice for their three minutes of glory, some finding great applause, while others were dismissed with polite clapping.

Time seemed like an eternity as she waited, but her moment finally came. She approached the ice, removed the guards from her blades and with as much determination as she could muster, entered the rink.

As she struck her opening pose the crowed quieted and the lights dimmed softly. With the first strands of her carefully chosen music she pushed off and began the routine that she had practiced for months.

But something was wrong. Where her moves should have been fluid, she stammered. Her grace was replace with awkwardness, and the harder she tried the more her performance suffered.

"I know the moves, I just need to try harder," she thought to herself in growing panic.

The audience grew restless, clearly unimpressed with the sight unfolding on the ice.

"What is this?" the French judge whispered in disgust to his German colleague. "How is it possible that she advanced to this level with skating like this," he whispered, revealing the thoughts of the entire coliseum.

"Harder, I must try harder!" her mind screamed, fighting the tears that were burning her eyes. She was at a point where panic, fear and frustration were completely overwhelming her.

Then a voice whispered to her. "Just let go."

"I can't, I must try harder," she nearly screamed to herself.

"That is what you must not do," the voice answered. "Look down deep, do you  see the little girl who loved to skate so much that she never wanted to leave the ice? Remember the love you once had and let it flow."

She remembered the days as a child-the many hours spent on the ice, all flowing from the sheer joy she felt for her skating. She remembered how there was nothing else she ever wanted to do but to be on the ice. But most of all, she remembered the love she had for the sport.

The change that took place was so instant and dramatic, so much so that everyone in the audience noticed and fell silent.

She didn't skate any more-instead, she soared across the ice. The strain that had marred her face melted as she entered her final moves, the energy she brought sweeping everyone up with her. She spun so fast that she was nothing but a blur on the ice, and suddenly, with arms uplifted and moist eyes beaming, she struck her final poise.

The audience was so taken aback by what they saw that for the first few seconds they couldn't move, but only sit with dropped-jaw awe.  Finally they erupted as one into a standing ovation-the kind of which had never been seen before. Even the judges who had been so critical only moments ago, were now with tears of joy streaming down their faces giving the only score they could.

10, 10, 10.

It's amazing how the greatest strength we have in our sport is the love we have for it.