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                                                                                1992 WINTER OLYMPICS, Page 48

When Dreams Come True


Kristi Yamaguchi, despite a fumble, showed a delicacy that was
golden. But the icy grail of triple jumps may be depriving all
but the ice dancers of their natural poise and fizz.

By MARTHA DUFFY -- Reported by Susanna M. Schrobsdorff/Albertville


    "It's something I've dreamed of ever since I put on
skates as a little girl." (She is still little, shoe size 3.)
At age 20, Kristi Yamaguchi, of Fremont, Calif., faced the
international press, blissfully fingering her gold medal. She
had nothing else to say. No thoughts about what she would do
next year, or what she would do tomorrow. She had just made it
through the arduous course of a fairy tale: pluck vs. luck.

    The competition ended exactly as it should have. Yamaguchi
was the most consistent athlete and freshest stylist. Skating
to Lecuona's Malaguena, she showed the delicacy and pace that
make her a joy to watch. In the long -- 4-min. -- format she
fumbled one triple jump, but everyone else in contention did at
least that. In the current high-vaulting, teeter-totter world
of skating, to jump is to survive, to land upright is to
prevail.

    Yamaguchi withstood a strong challenge from Japan's Midori
Ito, who lifted the crowd as she courageously hurtled her way
to a silver medal after placing a disappointing fourth in the
original program. The most famous athlete in her country, Ito
had earlier seemed almost crushed by the weight of her flag and
the expectations back home. The bronze went to Nancy Kerrigan
of Stoneham, Mass., an elegant, imperturbable skater who made
a characteristic decision to scale back her jumps in her long
program.

    The rink at Albertville was the scene of powerful grace
and perfection all week long. But the best and most innovative
skating of the Olympics came in the earlier ice-dancing
competition. The Unified Team's Marina Klimova and Sergei
Ponomarenko took the gold decisively with a bold, sexy program,
while France's celebrity couple, Isabelle and Paul Duchesnay,
were somewhat off form and had to settle for silver. Maia Usova
and Alexander Zhulin, also from the Unified Team, skated lightly
and impudently to the bronze.

    For Yamaguchi, Olympic glory is the culmination of a
single-minded 14-year quest. She is a fourth-generation
American, raised in Fremont, where her father is a dentist.
Kristi was born with clubfeet, but the condition was corrected,
and by six she was on the ice for keeps. For years she was a
superior pairs skater as well and often competed solo with scant
practice. It may be a result of giving up the dual assignment,
or moving to Edmonton, Alberta, for training, or perhaps the
onset of maturity, but in the past year or so she has forged a
fluent artistic identity and put aside the more obvious tricks
that come easily to her.

    Away from the rink Yamaguchi is reserved, but not shy.
Says U.S. coach Don Laws: "Kristi has the ideal temperament for
a skater. She trusts her coach, her parents and her program."
She has already been bitten by the ice-show bug after a brief
tour with a group sponsored by Campbell's soup. "I just got a
little taste," she says, "but it was great -- the travel, the
crowds, being with other skaters in a noncompetitive
atmosphere. Just like a family."

    Not all the week's highlights were produced by medalists.
France made a particularly strong and colorful showing, giving
notice that the country is building a formidable ice machine.
In dance, the young Dominique Yvon and Frederic Pallvel skated
an expert and provocative free program. In the women's event,
Laetitia Hubert's short program showed a jazzy, blatantly
dramatic style, although she faltered badly in the long program.
But the crowd pleaser was Surya Bonaly, whose style -- or lack
of it -- is sure to start arguments. Attired by couturier
Christian Lacroix in bullfighting red and black, she tore
through a toreador program that was flawed but feisty. Bonaly
doesn't so much skate as pump her way around the ice. Her jumps
are frequent and fearless; her spins, often with the free leg
extended at a rakish angle, are -- well, unorthodox. She makes
careful skaters look dull.

    To a disappointing degree the women's contest turned on
triple jumps, especially the Axel. Ito's losing struggle with
this nemesis cost her any chance of a gold medal. The best U.S.
jumper, Tonya Harding, may have lost her ability to land one.
In pursuing this icy grail, both women gave up a lot of their
natural poise and fizz. Are the mighty jumps skewing solo
competitions? A few routines, such as Yamaguchi's short program,
still explore the possibilities of blades on ice. But too often
the spins and footwork look like connections between jumps.

    That may explain why the ice-dancing competition was the
most exciting and dramatic event. At least the performers are
not preoccupied with completing a fiendish maneuver on one
foot. No jumps are allowed in dance. No radical lifts or throws
either. All three winners performed stunning programs; all
reflected imagination, ingenuity and athletic zest. Despite the
recondite rules that supposedly govern the field, it seems that
much of the creative thinking in figure skating is developing
in dance. The entire sport is reaching the stage where
choreographers are at least equal in importance to coaches, and
dance is leading the way.

    Klimova and Ponomarenko so enchanted the judges that all
but one forgot that they in fact bent or broke several rules.
Their avidly erotic dance, set to a souped-up version of Bach's
Air on the G String, highlighted his physical strength and her
pre-Raphaelite beauty. Like most Russian competitors, they are
masters of skating basics -- firm stroking, deep edges.

    Despite Christopher Dean's gutsy choreography for the
Duchesnays, it was not their night. Lacking the finesse that the
Russians' ballet and mime training provide, they must go on the
attack and challenge judges and spectators. But the couple
looked listless in their West Side Story routine. Later the
usually voluble Isabelle was silent (owing to a sore throat),
but Paul chafed against their decision to obey the rules:
"France wanted a gold medal, and we wanted to stay innovative.
We tried to find the middle ground, and you see the results."
But the truth is that Klimova-Ponomarenko's love story was more
attractive and ambitious than the Duchesnays' west-side story.

    Bobbing up like a false leap year, 1994 will see another
Winter Olympics. In skating it should be a fascinating
competition because the sport is clearly in transition. Will the
jumpers take over solo events, Yamaguchi and Kerrigan
notwithstanding? Will the ice dancers retain their dynamic? Will
bright choreographic stars be born? To all three questions the
likely answer is yes, but stay tuned.