By now you have probably heard about this week’s “controversy”
in Olympic figure skating. Russian skater, Kim Yu-na
was superb. Some people think she got robbed. Adelina Sotnikova, although
lovely, did not skate a perfect program. So, one is left scratching one’s head.
How did the judges decide on this
outcome? Why is the scoring so hard for viewers to figure out? (Pardon the
pun.) One of the American skaters insisted
that these complications do nothing to inspire youngsters to take up the sport
and, what’s more, issues like these are certainly driving audiences away from watching
it. It seems the figure skating world has a bit of a hitch in its double axel.
I think scoring is
the least of their problems. If you ask me, they ought to take a serious look
at nomenclature. I mean. The names they
give to the jumps and moves. They’re just so clunky. Salchow? Which sounds like
“sow cow” and for years I thought that’s what it was. Lutz? Camel? Twizzle? Death
spiral? Hydrant Lift, for gosh sake?
I bet those poor
skaters are fighting for their lives to maintain swan-like grace and elegance
with a commentator screeching, “There it is! A Triple LUTZ! Oh, that was
BEAUTIFUL!” Beautiful? The poor girl just LUTZED! On international TV! Surely,
I thought, someone could have come up with a better name for it.
This got me
curious about how skating terminology came about. Basic figure skating forms, like circles and
figure eights, were first catalogued in an instruction book published in
London, England in 1772. It wasn’t until 1864 that an American named Jackson
Haines sought to revolutionize skating competitions by adding ballet and dance movements
to the basic patterns. Nobody at home or in England was buying, so he went to
Europe to show off his moves and by 1868 he was wowing crowds in Austria and
Sweden. His influence led to European Figure Skating Championships and eventually
the World Figure Skating Championships first held in St. Petersburg, Russia in
1896. Figure skating made its debut at the Olympics in 1908. Around this time,
a Swede named Ulrich Salchow, the greatest figure skater of his day, ten
times a world champion, developed skates with serrated blades that allowed for
athletic jumps, such as his now famous “Salchow.”
Now, I want to
imagine that if he had known, when he egotistically christened that jump with
his own name, that 100 years later television announcers would be shrieking, “She
nailed that double SOW COW!!!!” he might have shuddered and cast around for
something a little less clumsy. A number of skating terms come from their inventors:
Axel Paulsen, Alois Lutz. What if someone in my family, those skating Scots, had invented a jump? Would
announcers be shouting, “He did it! He landed a perfect Quadruple Malcolm!!” Or if someone in
Russia or Ukraine had invented a new move. Would sportscasters be
screaming, “OOOH! Look at that! A Triple Wojokowski!” Or from China: “Oh, My! What
a beautifully executed Wong.”
Why the heck,
when they had a chance, way back when they were borrowing from ballet anyway, didn’t
they adopt ballet language? Wouldn’t “Arabesque” sound a whole lot more willowy
and lissome than “Sow Cow?” Just asking.
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