I've been tuning in on TV for a good many years now and figure skating has become like an old friend. Sadly, it mostly doesn't get televised until the Olympics are drawing near. Latching onto every last commercial opportunity, the TV and online providers have made it rather difficult to subscribe to the preliminary events, at any cost, not that I can afford to pay any more for TV or internet, anyway.
Fortunately, NBC came to the rescue this year and I was lucky enough to catch a bit of the Worlds in March and saw most of Skate America in October. The US Figure Skating Championships, celebrating their 100th anniversary, are in Boston this winter, starting January 5th, 2014. And, of course, the Winter Olympics start on February 7th, 2014.
Watching figure skating has become a well-established tradition for me. I remember the winter of 1994 when I had a serious sports injury to my hand and had to stay home from this big flying club banquet that I always looked forward to immensely. Luckily, the Winter Olympics had figure skating on that night. I'm quite sure I had a better time at home--at least until the pain meds administered for the plastic surgery wore off. But those daring young athletes on the ice kept me company while the rest of the family went to the banquet without me.
There were so many spectacular performances in Vancouver 2010, that I stayed up late, glued to the TV. Then I had to write about it next morning--the excellence of one young man and his joyous triumph. It inspired me to work that much harder on finishing Remover of Obstacles.
I even watch all those cheesy movies about figure skating that appear around this time every year. I know they're about as real as most of the movies Hollywood makes about pilots and flying, but I love them anyway. I can see that I might have real potential to become an "extreme fan" of figure skating--sort of like my good friend's forty-year-old son who puts on a football uniform and face paint to go to a Pittsburgh Steelers game. And yet, I've never been to a skating competition in person. I might put it on my bucket list, but the seats are really exceptionally good in my living room. And it's warmer there.
My Dad taught me to skate in the back yard on a "skating rink" made of corrugated aluminum, plastic sheets, water, and Mother Nature's deep freeze one winter when I was in grade school. I started out with his old hockey skates because my feet were so large. I'd had sort of weak ankles since I was a really little kid, and it was thought that skating might strengthen them. It actually did! I'd come home from school, whip through my homework, and head to the garage to lace up those old skates. Dad would leave me alone to practice after a few minutes of instruction. There was something cool about being out there in the dark alone with just the nearby garage lights to skate by. Sort of like my very own short program in the ice arena. I always did have a good imagination. . ..
But, as I said, I knew the real spotlight was not for me. I started skating when I was much too old and I had a body better suited to carrying passenger baggage and wrestling airplanes onto the ground in the wind than landing triples on the ice and executing flawless flying camels. I was . . . sturdy . . . with feet only a frog could envy.
As dainty and graceful as the top skaters look, I'm sure skating takes a lot of physical and emotional strength and unbelievable amounts of dogged hard work, unshakable self-confidence, and limitless intestinal fortitude. Oh, and then there's raw talent and the unnatural ability to get up at like 03:30 to head to the ice rink. The only time I could do that was when there was an airplane involved. Come to think of it, flying and figure skating have a lot in common. We all have our proving grounds. Some people have ice, and some people have airport runways.
For me, figure skating also has something in common with my books. I wanted to create a mystery series where the characters would become old friends, keeping me and my readers company, giving us all a chuckle once in a while, maybe--dare I say--inspiring us, sometimes. That's what figure skating does for me. When I get to see skating at the Winter Olympics, it's like seeing old friends and watching new ones step into the limelight. It's a cozy tradition embroidered with the beauty of the sport and the thrill of competition--brand new, every four years--showing up exactly at the appointed time. It's "A Comfortable Circle of Friends." Hurry up February--I can hardly wait!
Here's today's Jude Hayes excerpt form Remover of Obstacles:
Ming soon returned carrying plastic bags bulging with soft drinks and stacks of plastic glasses. Thinking of A.J., I shut off the vacuum and opened the cupboards under the windows, taking a quick accounting of my office liquor inventory. Not bad—one bottle each of Dewars, Bacardi, Stoli, and Johnny Walker red, and several bottles of wine—all of which had arrived as thank-you and holiday gifts from clients. I remembered the first time I’d received booze as a business gift—it had made me feel like a real, hard-boiled private eye. Probably a good thing I didn’t drink like Sam Spade, though. In the next cupboard I found a motley assortment of glasses wrapped in paper towels and I set these out on the countertop with the liquor array. We were now officially ready to turn the airplane into heavy weather.“The food is covered, Boss,” Ming said as he finished setting out the soft drinks. “A.J. also called Jasmine and the Tremonts and invited them all to the meeting. They’re coordinating on the food. I’ve got to run back and help with the table.”“The table?”“Yeah, Jasmine thinks we’re going to need her fold-up table.”“Geez—this is like a freaking arms summit.” I shook my head, “Okay. Must be something major.” He nodded, hurrying out the door. Whatever was on A.J.’s agenda, I really wished she hadn’t gotten Elio and Simone all stirred up. They were barely holding it together through these turbulent times and they did not need to be subjected to A.J.’s theatrics. Still, I remembered the stressed tone in A.J.’s voice on the phone—something was undeniably wrong. If she wanted the Tremonts at her meeting, she probably had a good reason for it.
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