A truth amidst all this nonsense

Hi Yuzu-san

there is probably a certain amount of presumption on my part in writing to you, when you are shattered physically and emotionally and who knows how many other people claim your attention, some to show solidarity, others, much less but very noisy, to tear you apart. Let me write to you in a low voice, in a space that can be read by anyone but that hardly anyone reads, without really trying to reach you. If my words reach you, like the cranes I have folded in these months, then they will reach you, otherwise it’s okay, even if it’s not good at all.

It is not good what has happened in these days, in these years, in this world. I started writing you another text, much more personal, but I couldn’t finish it. I left it aside. I was afraid to expose myself, to expose my soul, a fear that is always present, but not only. Some things seemed futile to me, but it is only by writing, going back to my words, that I can put my heart in order.

Those were intense days. They have been for me, who watch everything from afar and know only a fraction of the events, I can only try to imagine what they have been for you, knowing that I will never really understand. One way or another it’s over. But it’s only a competition like many in the past is over, as there will be many in the future, that is over. Will there still be some competitions for you? I have no idea. I saw an image of your ankle, and I know I am unable to walk for much less, you landed in it several quadruple jumps. I have no idea how you did it. I don’t know how your ankle will heal, I don’t know if you will want to move forward in an environment – and I mean all the political part of sport – that doesn’t deserve you. Whatever your decision is, I will support it. But remember Shizuka’s words when you were still in Japan: whatever happened, it couldn’t undo what you did in the past. And no, don’t go back to December 2019, when you said that the glories of the past are just the past and make you feel old, outdated. Evgeni is right: whatever happens, you are already (and still) Yuzuru Hanyu. And Yuzuru Hanyu is not the athlete, or at least he is not only the athlete, it is not just the number of medals that counts. If we look at the number, you have won enough that who know figure skating can say, without fear of being proven wrong, that you are the strongest of all time. You know it too, I don’t need to insult your intelligence by making a list of your medals, of your records, or to insert them in the historical context.

And despite this, medals are not the reason why I support you. For how many athletes, in how many different sports, have I cheered over the years? As for age, I could be your mother, there is exactly the same difference in years between us as there is between me and my mother. And in certain moments I see you as a third child. When you are in tears, and I would like to console you, hold you in a big hug. When you’ve done something epic, and you make me proud to have witnessed your story. Can you be proud of something done by someone you don’t know? I wrote it, I cheered for many athletes, and their victories made me happy, just as their defeats saddened me. But with you it’s different.

One day, a few years ago, my world collapsed. Nothing really dramatic, there was no catastrophe, to the point that none of those around me realized it. Simply in the space of two to three months, so many unpleasant episodes followed one another in an infinite number of different contexts, so many things that forced me to adjust my vision of reality, that something inside me broke. You have experienced greater catastrophes, I do not want to compare my life to yours or that of anyone else, but I am convinced that you can understand that sense of loss of certainties, that sense of crumbling that leads you to want to abandon everything. At that moment I gave up. I stopped fighting.

I was already a fan of yours. For years I have followed figure skating occasionally, depending on the time I could dedicate to it, but somehow I managed to lose all the first years of your career. It is from SEIMEI you skated at the NHK Trophy 2015 that I know that you you are the strongest skater. It’s not that I just be convinced, it’s a granite certainty, and nothing I saw in the next years made me change my mind. But you were you, you had your life, I mine, and the only possible intersection was when I found a few minutes to watch one of your performances. A year and a half later I gave up everything, including figure skating. I learned about your injury in NHK Trophy practice, but it was something far from me that I could ignore and that I ignored. The only exception I made during this period was PyeongChang. I could pretend disinterest, so many times I fake it. In that case I watched the competition convinced that you would win. You were the strongest, how could you not win? Yes, figure skating is a difficult sport, I know how high the risk of a mistake is, but I was convinced that if you had skated as you were able to skate, you would have won. The injury? For me it was a distant thing, after all months had passed. You won, I was happy for some time, nothing changed.

Nothing changed until the beginning of January 2019. At that moment I came across a documentary in Japanese subtitled in English. I ignored it, but somehow it stuck in my head, to the point that a few days later I went to look for it. The documentary was dedicated to your Olympic season, from the choice of programs to recovery from injury. I looked at him, and I was incredulous. How could anyone train, and win the Olympic Games, like you did? That video was enough to pique my curiosity. I went to Wikipedia, I started reading and from the first words my eyes widened. Asthma? The fact that I didn’t know shows you how distracted I was when I followed figure skating, with televisive commentary that couldn’t have been more superficial. A little further down there was some phrases about the earthquake, that earthquake that was so distant for me and that I remembered it only for Fukujima. With all the misfortunes happening in the world, it’s easy to harden our hearts and ignore those that don’t touch us personally. Moreover, this had been a natural disaster, man was not at fault, there was no one to blame.

There is no need for me to repeat everything, you know better than me what happened, how many injuries have affected you, and certainly there are an infinity of which we know nothing about. I was more and more incredulous. Among other things, was mentioned an extraordinary program skated in Nice despite a sprained ankle, and I wondered how extraordinary that program could ever be. I watched it. And, as much as you honed your technical skills in every element afterwards, that remains one of the most amazing programs I’ve ever seen. The intensity that shines through every fiber of your being is something that is difficult to match. Was that when I became a fanyu? It may be. That video, like countless others I have seen in a few days, changed me.

I don’t like labels, even though I sometimes say I’m proud to be a fanyu. With labels it is easy to categorize, belittle, label what you are talking about as something known, which does not deserve a second thought. We know what it is, so it’s not worth dwelling on, right? No.

In those days I discovered something extraordinary. I found that it is possible to be overwhelmed by life and move on, without losing yourself. I suffered with you from the earthquake, and I am reading books about it, because I want to hear the voices of the people who suffered the most, I want to remember that there are things against which one is powerless and that, despite this, kindness exists. I want to remember that beyond pain it is possible to rebuild. I watch the videos that you are the protagonist of, and I draw strength from the fact that every time you have stood up. Five times in China in 2014, moving forward with determination despite the pain. An infinite number of times in your life, despite injuries and despite wound that are more painful than physical injuries. We only know a small part of what you have been through, of what you are going through. A less strong person would have been destroyed years ago. You somehow managed to metabolize everything and to become stronger and stronger, and in doing this you gave me and who knows how many people strength, joy and hope. You gave me a trust that I had lost. Even now, even these last days.

The last competition was painful from start to finish. I have no idea what the future will bring, what I do know is that you are Yuzuru Hanyu, and it is not a score issued by a series of people unable to go beyond their personal interests that can change this reality. Do you want to know what I’ve seen in these days? I saw a man who made painful choices, knowing the risks perfectly, knowing how he would be repaid, but who nevertheless remained consistent with himself and moved on. We could not know how the competition was going to take place, but we knew the atmosphere in which it would take place from before. And you didn’t back down. How many would have given up? How many would have sought the easy way out, or made excuses? You have never done this.

What happened before, or behind the scenes, I can only try to imagine, also because you have never been the type to complain in public, or to make accusations, even when you would have had every reason. No, you are the type who immediately after being damaged by an unfortunate episode is able to put it aside and move on. For me this denotes more greatness than the one built artificially, slammed in everyone’s face as if it were something extraordinary and which instead is empty.

The Olympic Roncapu is extraordinary, despite everything. Yes, a quadruple salchow is missing, some details could have been done better, and surely you are dissatisfied even with details that to my inexperienced eyes appear perfect, yet what you did in those minutes was pure magic. Art, in your gestures, and an incredible strength that transpires from you, from the way you went on to the end. Because if I have been a fan of the skater since 2015, what I admire most is the man, someone who goes far beyond the talent he was born with, or even the intelligence and dedication with which he does everything. Beyond the courage with which he faces every challenge. Perfection occurs only when each element joins together to form something that is more than the sum of the individual parts.

As Peter Langan told you at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Japan in 2018, in this world of “fake news and alternative facts” what you do, the way you relate to people and the world around you, how you react adversity, as well as the way you dedicate yourself to skating with all of yourself, and your performances, are something that goes far beyond the single gesture of a person, because they make us understand what the potential of the human being is, something that too often we forget, blocked by our fears, by limits that we do not know or do not want to overcome, by petty interests. “So I’d like to say thank you for that because you give us a truth amidst all this nonsense we hear“.

Thank you, also for going all the way, for jumping with all your energy despite the ankle injury, for getting up and skating like you skated after that salchow. Your example is something that goes far beyond the result. In sports competitions, results follow one another, sometimes even beyond personal merits. Efforts can lie, you know it well, and in figure skating this is even more true. But regardless of the results, you are already Yuzuru Hanyu, and this is the greatest recognition.

You have spoken many times about your desire to be a light to others, even if only for a moment. You are. You are, and for more than a moment. You show the way, you make people understand their potential, you give strength and courage. Even in moments like this, because you are able to go on being yourself. I don’t know what you will do, what the future will bring, Yuzu-sama, but even the darkest night will have to give way to the sun at some point. You taught me that. Take care of yourself, in this moment it is the only thing that matters.

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10 Responses to A truth amidst all this nonsense

  1. LaCarmi says:

    Sono in lacrime. I’m in tears! How can we let him read this? Him not having social media in a curse sometimes.

    Grazie, hai espresso quello che molti di noi pensano. Forse possiamo twittarlo a Nobu-kun e chiedergli di spedirlo a Yuzu? Lo so, è come un ago nel pagliaio perché chissà quanti @ riceverà. Ma deve leggerlo.

    • Io sono contenta che non abbia un account social, perché altrimenti chissà quante persone userebbero il suo account per provare a ferirlo. Gli hater sono una minoranza, lo so, ma possono fare davvero male.
      Io non chiederò nulla a Nobu-san, né a nessun altro. Non sono mai stata brava a chiedere, e già scrivere queste parole è stato difficile. Mi è molto più facile nascondermi dietro alle parole che mostrare qualcosa di quello che ho dentro. Stavolta ho sentito il bisogno di scrivere.

      • LaCarmi says:

        Ah sì! Sono anch’io contenta che non abbia un account social! per quello che ho detto “sometimes”. E ora che ci penso razionalmente hai ragione. Voglio precisare che non volevo che fossi tu (posso darti del tu vero?) a chiedere a Nobu, pensavo di farlo io e ti stavo chiedendo il permesso, forse non si era capito, ma non farò nulla ovviamente.

        Per favore non smettere di scrivere! Su qualsiasi cosa in relazione al pattinaggio. Credo di conosce più cose (dei giudici) sul pattinaggio grazie alle tue spiegazioni.

        • Certo che puoi darmi del tu. Non siamo in un ambiente formale con un ruolo da rispettare.
          Io non so quanto girano i testi che scrivo, una volta mi è capitato di veder circolare su twitter – e ricevere notevole apprezzamento – una tabella che io avevo pubblicato 7-8 mesi prima. Questo significa che anche se non ho chissà quanto lettori, se ciò che ho scritto cade sotto gli occhi di qualcuno capace di diffonderlo, il mio testo viene letto.
          Se per me è importante diffondere i testi sui giudici, perché vorrei che le gare fossero giudicate in modo corretto, in questo caso è diverso. Posso promuovere, con le mie limitate capacità, un testo di tipo giornalistico (anche se io non sono una giornalista e questo è un blog e non un giornale), ma promuovere un testo in cui sembra che io voglia sentirmi dire quanto sono brava, quanto sono commovente… Magari sono solo io che ho troppe fissazioni, che muoio per l’imbarazzo quando devo espormi, o quando ricevo un complimento, fino a non saper più cosa fare.
          Ho scritto qualcosa di quello che avevo dentro, e penso che molti fanyu, ciascuno con la sua storia, si possano ritrovare nelle mie parole. Ho pubblicato il testo sapendo che sarebbe stato letto da persone che conosco solo tramite internet, non nella realtà. Questo lo ha reso più facile. Non potrei mai condividerlo sulla mia pagina Facebook, lì ci sono persone che non mi devono leggere, non in questo caso.
          Io sono sempre stata il tipo che alle feste si confonde con la tappezzeria, con le ombre sul muro. Scrivere per me è sempre stato molto più facile che parlare. Far leggere ciò che ho scritto? È da quando ero una ragazzina che so che le parole possono essere lette da altri. Tenevo un diario segreto, una volta. Questo fino a quando non ho sorpreso mia madre che lo leggeva a mia zia. Dire che è stato spiacevole è riduttivo. Erano parole mie, scritte per me, e la sua giustificazione che ciò che scrivevo era bello non era una vera giustificazione. Non ho mai più tenuto un diario segreto. Qualche rara volta, quando ho scritto qualcosa di personale, l’ho mascherato da critica letteraria.
          Con Yuzu è diverso. Lui mette tutto se stesso in ciò che fa, e per rispetto nei suoi confronti ho fatto qualcosa che per me è difficile. Ma l’ho fatto con la consapevolezza che qualcuno mi avrebbe letto, che le mie parole sarebbero arrivate in luoghi che io non potevo prevedere. Quanto gireranno le mie parole ora non dipende da me. Qualcuno le ha condivise, qualcun altro potrebbe farlo. Da un lato c’è il desiderio di dirgli quanto è speciale, e che nulla di ciò che ha fatto è stato invano, dall’alto ci sono io, che faccio sempre un passo indietro. Tu puoi fare come desideri, io me ne starò da parte.

          Per quanto riguarda i post sul pattinaggio, non so neppure io cosa farò. Al di là di alcune sequenze di post, o di alcune statistiche ampie, ho sempre scritto quello che mi andava di scrivere al momento. Ho cercato di fare tutto in modo serio, ma il soggetto era improvvisato. Quindi cosa farò in futuro è un mistero anche per me, anche se sicuramente dovrò rallentare perché ci sono alcune cose che richiedono il mio tempo e che devo assolutamente fare.
          Io ho imparato tantissimo, su Twitter, da Chibura (chiburahakkai), Elisa (lunnarias) Henni (Henni147) e Roseline Winter (roselinewinte10). E poi ci sono i traduttori, che avranno la mia eterna gratitudine.

  2. Marina says:

    Mi associo al ringraziamento per quanto hai espresso: hai certamente dato voce pienamente a tanti. Che gli giungano come forza e amore tutti i pensieri positivi

  3. Astrid says:

    Your words and those beautiful paper cranes are amazing. Thanks so much for your support.
    -a Chinese Fanyu

  4. Alice Tan says:

    Your words touched me deeply, thank you

  5. Hana18 says:

    Dear Ms Martina, thank you for writing about Yuzu-san, all the warm words and feelings that I had as well. Watching him in those programs are just so touching an mesmerising. I am sure and hope your cranes & well wishes will reach him some day. If not, the guardian angels will be with him, for sure! Take care and stay safe:) Keep writing. Ganbare!

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