It’s been two months since the Beijing Olympic Games, and I haven’t written about it yet. Yes, I wrote a text straight away (ITA and ENG), immediately after the conclusion of the short program, then I never went back to the competition, I didn’t write anything about what happened after and what I toke away with me. I try now, leaving aside the political speeches and the analysis of the scores. Those I will do in another post, now I try to go back to the naive myself, the one who for a lot of years has watched the competitions without knowing the rules, and who accepted the results without questioning them.

Now not only do I know the rules, but I am also able to appreciate the quality of what I see much better than before, and the quality of the skate for me is much more important than a quadruple jump, but this is another thing on which I will dwell longer on another occasion.

The short program is Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, a music that Yuzu has always loved, so much so that he mentions it in Aoi Honoo. For him it is an important music, and the interpretation he has chosen is even more important. He could have taken one of the countless existing interpretations, he chose to have one made especially for him because he wanted to skate on a piano piece. Skating on a piece for piano is more difficult than skating on a piece for violin or orchestra because the notes are much clearer, and if you lose the time even for a fraction of a second, it shows. Yet he complicated his life, because he wanted a music that he really felt. What does this tell us about his integrity, about the fact that the artistic unity of the program is more important than anything else?

Shinya Kiyozuka-san started playing, and Yuzu got into the music. Totally. He was the notes. Kiyozuka himself, after the National Championship, declared himself amazed at how Yuzu managed to grasp all the notes, to the point that according to him even assigning Hanyu 10.00 in the interpretation of the music was not enough. Okay, 10.00 is the highest score, Kiyozuka’s suggested 12.00 can’t be given, and whoever watches the competitions doesn’t have to know that interview. But Hanyu’s ability to grasp every note should be evident to everyone. And then the salchow came.

If we look at his face we can clearly see his surprise at what happened, and his gaze directed at the ice and that hole that has practically destroyed his chances of winning without him being able to do anything about it. What do you do in this case? I remember many skaters who after a mistake, or after an unfortunate episode, were unable to go on with their program and made one mistake after another. It happened to him too, and I’m thinking, for example, of the free skate at Skate America 2012. Not this time. Not anymore. Let’s look at the seconds. Yuzu is in the air, lands, and within a second enters the planned spread eagle.

He doesn’t just perform the spread eagle, he interpret it, we can see that he raises his arm to catch a note.

How many other skaters, immediately after losing about 14 points, would have been able to stay in the interpretation like this? That gesture, however simple, is breathtakingly beautiful. It is the essence of art.

Athletes participate in competitions to win, or to obtain the best possible result in relation to their abilities. Yuzu goes to the competitions to win, he can’t accept an inferior goal. But the competitive goal is not the only important thing. Yuzu goes on the ice to dig inside himself and seek contact with the public, whether it’s a competition or a show.

Each of us reacts in our own way to the adversities of life. I would have been paralyzed. There are those who are unable to watch these programs, thinking about that medal that should have arrived and that has not arrived. I look at the programs, and I am enchanted by what I see. Not that everything is perfect, the first spin is traveled, but it is the only real mistake, and it is not a too big mistake.

The combination is stunningly beautiful, enriched by transitions that leave me breathless. Not that there are no transitions even before the take off, but I’m more used to those. I love them, but they don’t take me by surprise. This time he lands, after a combination in which he has the same elegance as the best dancers (and when is he not elegant?), then he works a little with the edge of the right foot, then puts his left foot on the ice and changes direction, with a naturalness that no one other has, and enters the spin I just mentioned. His only little mistake, and something that don’t impact the whole program too much.

I don’t have the technical skills necessary to analyze in detail everything he has done. I will limit myself to mentioning one detail, the landing of the triple axel. He is doing his take off from a counter from so many years (2011-2012 season, Étude in D-sharp minor) that to some it may seem a normal take off, even easy, so much that the marks, albeit high, are too often lower than they should be. I wonder, if it’s that easy, why other skaters don’t do the same. Kevin Aymoz is the only one who tries, but it’s not quite the same. For Yuzu, however, it has to be simple, since the entrance has been complicated by adding a couple of cross rolls, with very accentuated arm movements, just to put his sense of balance to the test a little more, and on landing he does something I’ve never seen anyone do.

He bends his left arm.

It is not a gesture made by chance, in training we see that he train it. While everyone spreads their arms to stabilize themselves, he makes an asymmetrical gesture, on which it is very easy to lose balance. On the landing of a 3A. Because in this way he interprets the music better.

As for the step sequence, it is of a complexity that is unparalleled. Honestly I would like to see any skater skate this program. With their normal jump layout, sure, but I doubt that Jason Brown, with his triple lutz and triple flip, would be able to do all the transitions, all the movements, that are in Rondò. And it’s true that Brown can’t do quadruples, but he can skate. What about the skaters that do several quadruples… after a lot of crossovers?

I didn’t like the score, I couldn’t like it. The program is extraordinary. And the fact that Yuzu completed it, continuing to skate as he skated, is proof of his greatness.

In the free skate, his goal was the quadruple axel. We have known this for years. He talked about it when he was still a child, he set it as his goal after the second Olympic gold. Anyone who praises the champion of the moment should remember that there is a new champion at almost every edition. The new champion has shown that he is the strongest in that single competition and that’s it, otherwise with each new edition we would have a new GOAT. It takes more than a win to be the greatest. Even something more than an Olympic victory combined with a few world victories. There must be the successes, but they are not enough. Yuzu has the titles, and a vision of skating that no one else has.

Alexei Mishin advised him against trying the quadruple axel, saying he would only make his opponents happy. We know it, Yuzu knew it better than us. At the 2020 National Championship the quadruple loop had brought him 14.10 points. In the eleven 4Lo that he has tried since the code of scores +5/-5 exists, his lowest score was a 5.74, the average score 11.18, his highest score 14.55 points. If we consider only the six jumps he executed well, with a positive GOE, his average score was 13.54 points. At the 2021 National Championship the 4A << brought to him 4.11 points. How many points did he lose by choosing to try a 4A instead of doing a 4Lo? Impossible to say precisely, it depends on how he would have executed it, but he knew very well that he would almost certainly lose points. He tried the quadruple axel anyway, knowing the risks and accepting them.

And apart from that… Yuzu spent four years asking to himself how to make a jump that no one has ever made. He has ventured into the unknown, and this is something that is always scary. He fell countless times, and then he got up. How much determination does it take to carry on like this, day after day, year after year? How much determination does it take to keep doing this when you see that your results are below expectations? Because it’s not like he goes to competitions to have fun, he goes to competitions to win, and when he doesn’t win he thinks about what he can do better next time.

And, speaking of scores, it doesn’t take long to figure that out. If he had put a quadruple lutz in the short program instead of the quadruple salchow he would have raised the base value by 1.80 points. Same for the free skate. And if, instead of replacing a quadruple with another, he had sacrificed some transition, in order to add the fifth quadruple, the extra points he would have obtained would have been really many. He didn’t. I’m sure he thought about it. In Turin in 2019 he completed five quads, even though he hadn’t trained on a layout with five quads for over two years.

I know, in the end he was out of breath and missed the 3A+3A sequence. As I wrote, he hadn’t trained on a layout with five quads since his injury in 2017, and it’s not that such a thing is that simple to improvise. In addition, he entered the axel from a counter, because for him the transitions can not be sacrificed. He stated that he used all his energy for the take off and no longer had it for the closure of the body. If he had used a simple entrance he probably would have been able to complete the sequence. Without training. What if he trained? It’s been over two years since that Grand Prix final. He chose another path. A road that he walked alone.

He has been training alone for two years. Exchanging messages with coaches that are in another continent is not the same as training with them. In 2019 Shoma Uno was without a coach for six months. Almost without a coach, Takeshi Honda assisted him with the jumps and Uno did some short training camp with Eteri Tuberidze in Russia and Stephane Lambiel in Switzerland. Let’s look at his results of the autumn of 2019. Without a coach Uno’s results worsened dramatically, at the Internationaux de France I was really afraid that he could injury himself. And I don’t take Uno as an example because I don’t cheer for him, I mention him because I know his story. Changing sport, in 1995 Stefan Edberg decided to play without being assisted by his long-time coach, Tony Pickard. He had won six Grand Slam tournaments before, had been in the top 10 for a decade, was no a rookie. His results got worse. Within a few months Edberg and Pickard were back together, and although it took some time, his results improved. Those of the golden years have never returned, by then the back problems were chronic, but the difference in results between when Edberg had the coach at his side and when he did not have it is evident. Told by someone who still considers herself a fan of Edberg, that she would gladly pay to go and admire him in an exhibition, but that she would go and watch a game between two players from the baseline only if she was paid to do so.

Despite the difficulties, Yuzu improved, and went on his way without compromising. The gap from Chen was 18.82 points, something impossible to close without a disaster on Nathan Chen’s part, not so much for the technical skills as for the way marks are awarded, but that’s something on which I’ll come back another day. With Yuma Kagiyama and Shoma Uno, however, the situation is different. I have never considered the others, Junhwan Cha, Morisi Kvitelashvili, Jason Brown and Evgeni Semenenko, the gap was small and they did not have a base value such as to be able to stay ahead of Yuzu if he had skated even only at 70% of his possibilities. In fact, they didn’t stay ahead of him.

The gap from Kagiyama was 12.97 points, that from Uno 10.75. A recoverable gap, regardless of what they would have done, if Yuzu had skated at his best. Both Kagiyama and Uno set their personal best in Beijing, Uno in all programs, Kagiyama only in short program and in total. It was a festival of very high scores, among the first eight classified the only one who did not establish the personal record in any of the three scores was Hanyu himself. And, despite this, starting from his 95.15, if Yuzu had replicated the 215.83 points of the 2020 National Championship, he would have scored higher than the score that got to Kagiyama the silver medal. To beat Uno it would have been enough for Yuzu to repeat not only those 215.83 points, but also the 212.99 points of Skate Canada 2019, the 211.05 points of the 2021 National Championship, or the 206.10 points of the 2019 World Championship. A score within his reach. All he had to do was do the 4 loop instead of the 4 axel, and skate at his best.

In 2013 Japan risked losing three entries for Sochi. After the short program Daisuke Takahashi was fourth, Yuzu ninth, Takahito Mura eleventh. 4+9=13, the three entries are obtained with a sum equal to or less than 13. If one of Takahashi and Yuzu had lost even one place, Japan would have obtained only two entries. Yuzu was the national champion, he felt the responsibility to bring the three entries to his nation. Yuzu was injured, in his left knee and right ankle. Brian Orser suggested him to do two quadruple toe loops in the free skate, because the quadruple salchow… reading the comments of the time I saw jokes about it being a choreographed fall. In Notre-Dame de Paris Yuzu did a quadruple toe loop, then fell on the salchow, then moved on to the triple flip… The success rates of the two jumps were very different. Despite this, the eighteen year old Hanyu, at his second world participation, did not give up presenting the program that he had decided to present. The quadruple salchow was underrotated, but he landed it without falling. His was the third free skate of the day, for a final fourth place. In the end, with Hanyu’s fourth place and Takahashi’s sixth (overtaken not only by Hanyu, but also by Javier Fernandez) Japan had the three entries.

In 2014, the situation was somewhat similar. The 4S had a success rate of 17%, the 4T of 77%. Orser suggested to Yuzu to do two toe loops, just like Patrick Chan did. Yuzu went on his way. Doing what he had in mind was more important than an Olympic gold medal. How much had he won so far? One gold and one silver in the Grand Prix Final, one World bronze, two silvers in the Four Continents Championship. He was one of the strongest skaters of the moment, Chan’s strongest rival, but no one would have thought of him if he had to point out the strongest skaters ever. Yuzu tried the quadruple salchow, fell, got up and went on. The program is more important than the medals. This is why when he asked Jeffrey Buttle to choreograph Rondò, he focused not on the base value but on the artistic aspect, and in Ten to Chi to he planned to do a quadruple axel and not a jump that he already knew how to make. He chose his own path, and went on until the end.

In training on the 9th he got injured. The ankle is his weak point, by now we know it. It doesn’t take much, and he gets hurt again. And when you did some steps before a jump, or when you try a jump that no one has a clue how to do, the risk of a disastrous fall is much higher. He fell, and got injured. When we saw him tighten the shoe string we all thought of Boston. Sure, he pretended nothing happened. Even in China in 2014 he said he was fine. That day he didn’t have a concussion to his head, as I’ve read on multiple occasions, just a contusion, but to say he was fine is by far an exaggeration. And I saw a photo of his ankle.

In my own small way, I am an expert in sprained ankles. If we talk about Lisfranc lesion, or urachus, my knowledge is related to the research I did on the internet. If we talk about asthma, my ideas are a little clearer, but it is a detached knowledge, from the outside, because I don’t have this problem. But if we talk about sprained ankles… I, with an ankle like his, struggle to limp to the bathroom. And he used that ankle to skate. To present a program that included four quadruple jumps.

He tried the quadruple axel and fell.

And he got up.

The final pose of the jump, the exit, was not necessary. that pose doesn’t earn him a cent. He did not know how the rotation would be judged, but he knew that the GOE would be -5 and that he would receive the deduction for the fall. At best that jump could bring him 5.25 points, in reality it brought him 4.00. Yet Yuzu is back in his role instantly.

I was in tears that night, and not for the medal. The medal no longer counted for anything. I was in tears at the strength shown in moving forward against all odds. In not retreating from the challenge, in choosing not to take the easier path.

What is it that makes us human? Where does greatness reside? Yuzu’s technical skills are extraordinary. There has never been anyone who has come close to him, regardless of the results of the competitions of the past four years. Yet it is not his extraordinary technical skills, or his love for skating, that make him different from others. To make it so different.

Yuzu took a risk, and he paid the price. Even on the next jump. He fell also on the quadruple salchow, a jump that he could now make even while sleeping, and that in Beijing did not want to collaborate. He landed on the salchow, only the ankle didn’t hold and Yuzu fell again. It happens. Sometimes in life things don’t go our way, even if it’s not our fault. But we decide how to face adversity, we decide whether to let ourselves go, so much the result that we wanted to obtain, for which we have worked so hard, is now beyond our reach, or whether to get up and continue to do our best.

It has been 12 seconds since he found himself with his hands on the ice for the second time. And the combination he did, with a sprained ankle, knowing that whatever he did he would get a low score, is extraordinary.

Even with the two fall, that program is extraordinary. It is extraordinary for the strength of spirit shown by Yuzu, but it is also from a technical point of view. If we look at the protocol, Chen alone has a higher base value than him, but if we look at the transitions none of the other programs are as complex, as well constructed and interpreted, and those that come closest to him have been skated by skaters who tried no more than two quadruples.

The attention to detail is something that has no comparison. The moment he stops, when Uesugi Kenshin is uncertain about his path, moved me from the first time I saw him, when I had no idea who Uesugi Kenshin was. And the precision in handing out the sword, a modified gesture compared to last year, testifies the continuous search for perfection, because it is something that does not affect the score, that he did not need to do, but that he did the same because it is right to do it.

Each program is not a simple repetition of something that has already been done, it is a new interpretation. If we realize that we can improve something we have done in the past, then we must improve it. Do not do it, because so far it has gone well this way, it is the simplest way, not the right one.

Seven jumping elements, three spins, a step sequence, a choreo sequence. Technical elements, which must be included in the program, and which for many skaters are what must be done. Enriching them, doing something between the first and second quadruple toe loop, complicates the program, but also makes it richer. And this position has become the screensaver of my mobile (the background is the beginning of SEIMEI; when he raises his hand to support the sky at the first sound of the taiko drum).

On a technical level, Yuzu performed better programs. A program with two falls cannot be defined as perfect, even if a fall is on a quadruple axel, and even if the simple fact that he has tried to perform a quadruple axel is extraordinary, and it is even more so if we think that he tried it at the Olympic Games, knowing that he could have lost a medal, and if the other is tied to a sprained ankle. On an emotional level… there are other programs that reach this intensity, none that surpass it.

The heaven, the earth, and him in the middle.

Being human means moving between two realities greater than us, and still doing our best, until the end.

Then there were the interviews, some training that he shouldn’t have done with his ankle but which were important for his soul (and my heartfelt thanks go to all the Chinese fanyu and those who have transmitted their warmth to Yuzu, who made him feel that what he did was not in vain), and the gala. In this competitions the circumstances did their best to take everything away from him, two medals he deserved, the last real world record replaced by yet another papier-mâché record, health, the recognition of having fully (or almost) rotated a jump that according to others is pure science fiction. And despite everything, he has remained true to himself, and what he has done is extraordinary.

I don’t know what he will do in the future, I know that I am happy to be able to follow his path. These programs are not the testimony to a defeat. The idea of ​​defeat is found in the petty soul of those who think more about his personal interests than about justice. Rondò capriccioso and Ten to Chi to are two extraordinary programs, and the two Beijing interpretations, despite their imperfections, leave the sphere of sport to enter that of art. In Beijing they tried to take everything away from Yuzu, but no one will ever be able to take away the most important thing from him: the awareness and pride of being Hanyū Yuzuru.

Thanks Yuzu.