<p>A vicious attack on an Olympic figure-skating hopeful raises
fresh concerns about the safety of all athletes
</p>
<p>By Martha Duffy/Detroit--With reporting by David E. Thigpen/New York
</p>
<p> The attack was sudden, the aftermath wrenching--a lovely
young woman brought low, down on the floor, screaming and crying
out, "Why? Why? It hurts so much. Why me?" Nancy Kerrigan, 24,
the most accomplished and graceful of the current crop of U.S.
figure skaters, had just finished a practice session for last
week's national championships in Detroit, when a man approached
her from behind. Wordlessly, without warning, he delivered a
violent blow to her right leg with a clublike object. Some witnesses
thought it was a crowbar, others a baseball bat. No one knows
for sure because the assailant vanished at once as a crowd gathered
around the hysterical skater. Her father carried her off in
his arms like a child. She was treated at a hospital and released.
</p>
<p> Though she had been favored to win the national title, Kerrigan
was forced to withdraw from the competition. Her doctors said
she was suffering from thigh contusions and swelling in the
knee and was unable to control a simple hop, never mind a program
that included several triple jumps. The assault cast a deep
shadow on her ambition to earn a medal in next month's Olympics.
However, even Kerrigan's rivals admitted that she deserved to
be on the U.S. team, and on Saturday night officials in Detroit
selected her over the runner-up, 13-year-old Michelle Kwan.
But the poignant question was whether Kerrigan would be in any
shape to train for the event. Her father said the close-knit
Massachusetts family was in shock. Her mother said, "We're mad."
</p>
<p> The vicious and mystifying attack brought to the fore the issue
of safety for all athletes, particularly those in sports featuring
individual competition in an atmosphere of relative openness
and civility. The TV pictures of Kerrigan weeping and grimacing
in pain were eerily familiar. Only last April, there were similar
shots of tennis whiz Monica Seles, who was stabbed in the back
in the midst of a match by a virulent fan of her rival, Steffi
Graf. Seles has yet to return to competition. Her attacker was
tried and freed on probation.
</p>
<p> Such violence is rare, but more and more athletes are being
forced to deal with the warped actions of obsessive fans. Katarina
Witt, the sexy, stylish German star who won Olympic gold in
1984 and 1988, had to seek an injunction at a U.S. federal court
in 1992 against a man who was terrorizing her with obscene and
threatening letters. He was committed to a psychiatric hospital
for three years.
</p>
<p> Tonya Harding, who won the U.S. title in 1991, received a death
threat last November during a competition in Portland, Oregon.
She withdrew from the event and has traveled with bodyguards
ever since. (It apparently has not distracted her; she won the
women's championship at the nationals last weekend.) The vulnerability
of even 200-lb. bruisers was demonstrated sensationally last
November, when a parachutist disrupted the heavyweight championship
bout between Evander Holyfield and Riddick Bowe in Las Vegas.
</p>
<p> Kerrigan's misfortune was especially poignant. As a skater,
she has always been an enigma. Blessed with a solid, assured
technique--high, ample leaps, a long, elegant line and instinctive
musicality--she is an erratic competitor. On good days she
has won national titles and, in 1992, an Olympic bronze medal.
On bad days she has lost her nerve and scaled down her program
by simplifying or eliminating the tough jumps. Says TV commentator
and former Olympic gold medalist Dick Button: "She is unusually
strong as a skater, more so than most women, but in other ways
she is very fragile, not confident in herself."
</p>
<p> Her low point came at the world championship last year in Prague.
Expected to win, she went home without a medal. The failure
changed her life. She intensified her training, did double and
even triple run-throughs of her long program--a feat requiring
great reserves of physical stamina and mental energy--and
consulted a sports psychologist to combat what seemed like a
will to lose.
</p>
<p> Kerrigan is easily the most beautiful woman in the competition,
with auburn hair and Hepburnesque cheekbones. Yet her striking
appearance seems hardly to have registered on her truly unassuming
nature. Her press conferences consist mostly of shrugging, making
faces and giggling nervously. Facing the media on the day after
the attack, she fought back tears as she underscored her hopes
of getting to Lillehammer. "I was upset, hurt, angry," she said.
"I really wanted to skate. I've been skating so well, and I
wanted to go out and show everyone I didn't lose it."
</p>
<p> Under the strain of trying to land Olympic berths, Kerrigan's
fellow skaters turned remarkably blind eyes to her downfall
and to the issue of security. Skater after skater mumbled that
it could have happened to anyone, but that it certainly wouldn't
happen again, least of all to them. Veteran Brian Boitano--Olympics-bound after winning the silver medal in Detroit--was one of the few to show concern, admitting at a press conference
that he too has been the target of harassing fans.
</p>
<p> In fact, security at the event was haphazard, especially at
the practice rink, where Kerrigan was attacked. Her coach, Evy
Scotvold, said he saw no security guards in the practice area
just before the attack. U.S. Figure Skating Association officials
were on the defensive, pointing out their elaborate system of
