Wednesday's shocking developments in the Nancy Kerrigan assault case shine grimy lights on the glittery world of international figure skating.
The FBI said agents in Portland, Ore., are investigating allegations that the ex-husband and bodyguard of Tonya Harding - the new national figuring skating champion - were involved in last Thursday's attack on Kerrigan.
Kerrigan, considered the favorite, was hit by an unidentified man wielding a heavy bar and knocked out of the competition, won by rival Harding.
Harding is not a suspect. But the allegations include claims that Jeff Gillooly and bodyguard Shawn Eric Eckardt were tape-recorded plotting an attack on Kerrigan and then were to have discussed it with a "hit man."
Figure skating long has had its share of soap opera scenes with squabbling stars, cranky coaches and ferocious fans. Most recently battles with anorexia, bulimia and AIDS have been part of the story.
But nothing like the attack on Kerrigan likely had ever been imagined - until now.
"Something always happens in figure skating," said Dick Button, Olympic gold medalist in 1948 and 1952, and longtime skating commentator for ABC. "Whether it was the time that two skaters hit each other and were forced out of the competition, or whether it was the time the music stopped and they had to skate without music.
"It's a very flamboyant sport. It's passionate, it's got people who desperately want things to happen."
What Harding desperately wanted to happen - her triumph - has turned troublesome for the controversial skater. Harding had to hire a bodyguard, she said last week, after a November death threat forced her to drop out of a regional competition. But she refused to say whether he accompanied her to Detroit, site of the national championship.
"You guys know me better than that," Harding told reporters when asked if she had anything to do with the attack.
But she withdrew from tonight's exhibition skating show in Fairfax, Va., reportedly telling the promoter she was "having a few media problems."
She expressed regret that the attack on Kerrigan, 24, a 1992 Olympic bronze medalist, forced her to withdraw.
"It won't be a true crown until I face Nancy," Harding said. "That'll be at the Olympics. And let me tell you, I'm going to kick her (butt)."
The tough language is part of an image that's been shaped by conflict and adversity.
"She's not your normal figure skater," said fellow 1992 Olympian Paul Wylie, who spent years training in the same rink with Kerrigan.
Whatever stereotypes might apply to female ice stars - affluent families, shy demeanors, rigidly insulated childhoods - rarely are associated with Harding, 23.
"Rumors are sometimes worse than actual fact, and they are flying rampant," Button said. "The tragedy of the event is that two wonderful women athletes, Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding, are now having to worry about this kind of thing instead of enjoying the fruits of their labor.
"I've known Tonya for a long time," he said. "It doesn't sound right that she would be involved in anything like this because she's the kind of gal who is right up front and in your face. She's not going to sneak around."
Harding is a Portland native raised by blue-collar parents whose children from previous marriages were much older. Money was short. Harding and her mother, LaVona, collected pop bottles to pay her skating bills, often in $ 10 increments.
A 1991 Sports Illustrated profile detailed how one of Harding's infrequent encounters with a relative turned nasty. She said a half-brother, later killed by a hit-and-run driver, made sexual advances to her when she was 15.
Harding's father, Al, a laborer, taught her to fire hunting rifles and bait fishing lines.
Later, she learned what's what under the hood of a car and, until last year, dabbled briefly in drag racing.
Her marriage to Gillooly, 25, was rocky. She twice sought restraining orders against him and, according to reports, twice filed for divorce.
Their March 1990 marriage was a secret until it became public in early '91.
Gillooly then worked in an Oregon alcohol beverage control board warehouse.
In 1991, Harding was involved in a well-publicized skirmish with another motorist at an intersection near the skating rink where she practices.
Police found the 96-pound skater brandishing a baseball bat at a woman after the pair got into an argument.
There were no arrests, but the two women reportedly traded punches.
Last October, Portland police responded to reports of a gunshot in the complex where Gillooly and Harding lived.
A search led to the couple's apartment, where a gun was seized. Harding and Gillooly told police the gun fired accidentally.
Harding made at least one reference to Gillooly as her "husband" last week in Detroit. After the competition, they attended a party together.
This season, both Kerrigan and Harding expressed confidence in their goals of winning Olympic medals.
"I want the (Olympic) gold medal," Harding said.
Kerrigan declared herself the "favorite."
That is typical of skating at the world-class level. But most sniping is waged between skating fans, who are passionate in their loyalty.
Fans are like groupies who often create underlying tension the skaters don't share.
Several years ago, former Olympic champion Katarina Witt stopped accepting flowers on the ice after performances when one spectator grabbed her arm and tried to pull her off the ice while handing her a bouquet.
Brian Boitano skated to her rescue at that show.
Harding's fan club, which - according to a newsletter written by its founders - has more than 400 members in 25 states, is diligent in its support.
Some loyalists in Detroit wore Team Tonya T-shirts.
Blades On Ice magazine recently published a lengthy letter from a Harding fan critical of media coverage and proclaiming, "She will prevail! She will wear that Olympic gold medal some day."
Portland newspaper columnist Julie Vader said she received threatening phone calls from a Harding fan after describing a pool hall scene in which Vader witnessed the asthmatic Harding smoking cigarettes.
Boitano recalled a televised profile that included a brief glimpse of the front door of his San Francisco home.
He said he was forced to remove the address plaque because fans meticulously traced the location of the home and came knocking.
Kristi Yamaguchi, co-starring with Wylie and Scott Hamilton in the Discover Cards Stars On Ice tour, said security for the skaters has been increased and guards are at dressing room doors.
"I find myself looking at people twice," Yamaguchi said. "I know that most of them only want an autograph, but . . ."
Yamaguchi's success in recent years kept Harding and Kerrigan from becoming classic rivals, though both came up through the sport's pecking order on parallel tracks.
Their backgrounds are similar. Kerrigan's father, Dan, is a welder in Stoneham, Mass. He took a second mortage plus a second job to fund her skating ambitions. Her mother, Brenda, is legally blind.
Kerrigan earned her first U.S. title last January, instantly casting herself as a leading contender for the world title. She finished fifth, however. Harding didn't qualify. Both have returned but it seems they are more vulnerable than ever.
