I thought it was great that the Russophile audience left in droves, leaving a 'normal' audience for the rest of the skaters. The audience that remained cheered equally for all the skaters, and it was a refreshing change from what we saw and heard for the pairs.
I'm already dreading what's to come for dance and especially ladies.
And I hope Russian hockey team and the crazy ballet dancer with drum are going to ladies too and support their girls like they supported pairs. It was fun!
Oh god. At least B/S will skate after V/M and I/K won't skate before W/P or D/W. I feel really bad for Coomes/Buckland though who will have to wait at least another minute before the crowd calms down from I/K's inevitably inflated scores.
Originally Posted by chuckm
Kozuka also could have been 7th. Dai is/was injured..Why did send him to Oly the Japanese Federations ??? I'm really curious of your answer..
Originally Posted by Frenchie
and I have a bad news for you..Plushy got many new fans..especially in US. And the old fans understand him and his decision and they really think if Plushy is healthy he could have won a bronze..
American poet poem dedicated Plushenko
In support of the Russian figure skater The wall street journal published bezrifmennuyu poem "The last jump Plushenko." http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/2014/...lympic-poetry/
Eventually, the body will surrender,
sometimes silently, stoically, panting
like a faithful dog willing to obey, desperate
to do what we want, but the surgeries,
the battering, the wounds we have
seen mark their tattoos of decay
will eventually overwhelm even the
most noble of flesh, and it will be us,
heart on hand, the heavy throb of nerves
screeching in our vertebrae, the numbing
in our legs, as if the ice has risen
from the rink’s surface and embraced us,
while the nation of devoted sigh
the collective sigh of dismay, the way
that death betrays our illusions of
power; it will be us skating with the slow,
broken slump to the officials to say,
no more, no more, before the departure.
We know the deep gloom in the air
when the truth of our body’s decline
is read out to the world, we know
this from those leapers and acrobats,
those sprinters and dancers, all of
us, become the limping shadows
of all that is elegant in the body’s
engineering—but how lovely it is
to have deep in our brain’s healing,
that grand jumbotron replaying
in loops that long history of our
most persistent aliveness, the track
of our flight, our bodies obedient
to the mind’s command—sometimes
this is all that keeps us going, as we
answer the eyes, “I am human, I have
always been human, and I will die human.”