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My thanks to Claudyne Hutchinson for the lift and for giving me someone familiar to talk to; to Fran Buhman for dispelling my intimidation and answering so many questions; and to all the other Edgers and fans I met at the hotel, for sharing such a great time with me. And most of all, to The Man, for making this a night I will never forget. Before you read any further, I prefer to state up-front that I take no interest or enjoyment in Russian skaters--in fact, I dislike most of them and consider them overvalued 99% of the time. That's just me. I am an American with a strong patriotic streak, and with only a handful of exceptions, I prefer the style of American skaters. That is why you will find no comment here on the skating of the Russian competitors, only the Americans. October two in Orlando, Florida: date and location of the Keri Lotion Figure Skating Classic. It was somewhat after 4pm when I arrived at the downtown Raddisson, official hotel of the competition, and site of a dinner meeting for members of the Spiral Edge online mailing list. Dining with twenty other eccentric Todd Eldredge fans was, for me, the ideal prelude to watching The Man skate--and if I was lucky, getting a little closer than that. I stepped into the hotel lobby and started looking for the restaurant, but passing the lounge, I recognized Claudyne Hutchinson at one of the tables. I had previously met Claudyne, president of Silver Blades Skating Tours, at COI in mid-May. Approaching the table, I recognized one of the others sitting there as Fran Buhman. After greeting Claudyne and hovering at the edge of the table for a few minutes, I finally managed to introduce myself to Fran--the source of all Todd information who, I will at last admit, had intimidated me a bit since I joined the list a year before. But her politeness soon set me at ease, and Claudyne, in turn, introduced me to the others at the table--among them Mary Lally, webmistress of Todd Eldredge News. Even a month before, I hadn't expected to be in the company of so many "community leaders" of Todd fandom. I sat down, and hesitantly joined in the conversation of people who already knew each other, not an easy thing to do even when there is a common interest. Others began to attach themselves to our group--and I was surprised to be introduced to Eda Tseinyev, who turned out to be an old friend of Fran's. I knew Eda from a mailing list and a few chat encounters, and the one thing I knew about her was that she was a major fan of the Russian skaters and had several sites for them. She was much younger than I expected, and I was pleasantly surprised to learn she was a "closet" Todd fan. A vaguely familiar figure in an Olympic jacket had come in and sat down at the bar, and after long pondering, I mentioned him to Mary. Her cool response was, "It's Anton." World pair skating champion Anton Sikharulidze, that is. What a way to begin the night. Of course, it was fascinating to see a skater in person, off the ice--but it was only a preview of things to come. Our group dominated most of the lounge by 5pm, when the restaurant opened and a gaggle of terrified waiters led the Todd Squad into their own private section. To my nervous fascination, I found myself sitting at Fran's right; I was glad Claudyne was just across the table, as I looked to her for subtle guidance. We went through the confused process of ordering dinner, took turns introducing ourselves, and then half a dozen conversations began to span the table, most of them related to skating and the world travel it had led to for some of the others. Having never left Florida, I felt rather inadequate, and did my best simply to listen. Someone else joined our group, and she recognized me--but it wasn't mutual, until she mentioned owing me a tape. Then I realized it was Julie, another acquaintance from COI, responsible for my near-encounter with Todd at that show. It was unexpected and nice to see her again. Our party overloaded the chefs. Our meals were brought in staggered groups, and by the time everyone had gotten their plates, it was about 6:15--with the competition beginning at 7pm at the Arena. In due course the waiters were rushed into handing over the check, and it was passed around the table, with each person marking off their meal and forking over its cost. The tab was... sizable, to say the least. I needed a ride to the Arena, and Claudyne had told me she had room for me--along with Fran, Mary and an Edger named Kellie. I left my present for Todd at the front desk and followed the ladies. And it was an interesting ride, especially considering I was the only local--"Orlando is that big?" "Yes, and that's just Disney World..." At the Arena, I received both a pleasant and an unpleasant surprise. The pleasant one was that the half-dozen front rows of bleacher-style seats that had been there for COI were gone, meaning row C--my row--really was row three. The disappointing discovery was that where those extra rows would have been, there was a ten-foot drop and a broad walkway to separate the railing from the ice. Remembering once again why I hate the Orlando Arena, I went out and bought a program and a rose, for whom I wasn't sure. I then returned and found the right seat--in the wrong section. My proper place was a bit more crowded, and I was soon sandwiched between two men. The one on the right had a beer, which was not promising. I'd forgotten, since COI, the cool and pleasant scent of the ice. When I could actually be there to see it in person, the stress of "fandom by broadcast" was gone, and I could enjoy skating for itself. Well, until the judging started... It was only a few minutes before the event began, with the pairs warmup. But my eyes were soon drawn to the kiss and cry area. There sat Todd, in street clothes, watching. Kyoko Ina and John Zimmerman skated first. I was thrilled to see them perform "At The Beginning"--I've loved the program since I first saw it on television, and they executed it beautifully. I believe the 1998 Keri was their debut together, and they had improved vastly in a year. My hope for them is a National title in 2000. Berezhnaya and Sikharulidze followed them, and that was the extent of the pairs competition. The first four men started warming up, including Timothy Goebel, Matt Savoie, Ilia Klimkin and Evgeny Plushenko. Goebel is one American skater I can honestly say I don't like, for a number of reasons, and he was very, very off. He kept singling and doubling his jumps, and it was a bit painful to watch. His program didn't go much better. Savoie, on the other hand, skated great. Personally, I think he deserved National bronze over Goebel--but then, the judges are easily swayed by quads over consistency. After the four younger men skated, the ice was resurfaced, and during the intermission I fielded a few questions about Todd from those who had noticed my rather blatant blue and white "Todd" pennant. (My thanks to Dale Kay Miller for creating the things--they certainly work!) The older men's warmup followed, and spying on the kiss and cry with the camera lens, I watched Todd come from backstage. It took some doing to "get" the costume... a sort-of-gray shirt with dark pants, and a neckerchief he kept fussing with. He was excellent in the warmups; I don't remember any mistakes right off. And to my satisfaction, he was getting the biggest crowd reaction so far. The audience was (to me) gratifyingly pro-USA, and no one liked or understood the judging. I can't remember any other time I heard anyone getting booed for having scores that were too high, which happened to several Russians... and I'm obviously not one to argue that. To my dismay, Todd skated first after the warmups. Todd's coach Richard Callaghan had given only one clue to Fran about the nature of the new program, and it was a single word: "War". And as it turned out, Todd was returning to the Civil War theme he'd explored with his "Gettysburg" program. The new program was "The Glory" from the musical "The Civil War", facts I later gleaned from the other Edgers. Unfortunately I wasn't able to really absorb the program, because after seeing perfect performances of it on TV since then, it has become a definite contender for my favorite Todd program. I would, of course, have to screw up on the program for which I had come--and I did so by running out of film halfway through. And it was while I was fumbling with the camera that I heard the crowd gasp. By the time I looked up, Todd was already coming back around from the far end of the rink. I would later learn that he had stumbled on the triple axel. Still, Todd looked happy after he skated. Pennant waving, I took part in the standing ovation, cheered and tossed my present for him onto the ice--Pinky, the flamingo Beanie Baby, and a box of seashell-shaped chocolates. I was continuing my tradition of Florida-themed gifts to him; the one for COI had been a rather large chocolate alligator. Even with the mistake, Todd's scores were unjustly low--and when they were announced, the arena echoed with boos, supported by Todd's encouraging gestures to the crowd from the kiss and cry. Urmanov, Yagudin and Weiss followed. Weiss' program was good, but really not at all memorable. The ice dance followed--Lang and Tchernyshev, and then Krylova and Ovsiannikov. As I avoid ice dance whenever I possibly can (except for the occasional Usova & Platov, two skaters on my tiny list of approved Russians), there's nothing I can say about that portion of the event. The ladies followed, and while I enjoyed Sarah Hughes and the unbelievably tiny Sasha Cohen, the highlights of the division for me were Angela Nikodinov and Michelle Kwan. It was Michelle who got the lone 6.0--and my unclaimed rose, though I wish I'd had one for Angela too. Some of the other girls were upstaged by a tiny flower girl who could hardly carry more than two flowers or a teddy bear. The final score left the Russian team ten points ahead of the Americans. No comment. To my delight, the skaters were called back out for a victory lap, and I went to the railing with my pennant. I got to enjoy a repeat of my prized moment from COI, when Todd looked up at me, smiled, and waved. The event over, I met back up with Fran, Mary and Kellie, and once we tracked down Claudyne, we started back for the hotel. Another interesting trip... I'd had a feeling the best memories of the night would take place after the competition, back in the hotel lounge. And I was more correct than I'd expected. In the lobby, I called my parents, who were going to pick me up. Then I went back into the lounge, had a drink and sat with the others, and gradually the rest of our earlier party began to straggle in. So did the Russians. The first was Urmanov. He hovered around the doorway for a while, signing the programs of a few girls, and I decided I might as well take the chance to have mine signed as well. He was a very subdued man; our words were limited to my "Thank you" and his almost inaudible "You're welcome". Almost as soon as I returned to the table, Plushenko and Klimkin joined Urmanov, and the trio moved over to the bar. Presented with another interesting opportunity, I sidled over to Plushenko's elbow--and let me tell you, he's taller than he looks. He signed the program without saying anything, and otherwise offered no more than a peculiar stare. Since Klimkin only had a paragraph without a picture, I decided not to bother him with it, and went back to the table. By this time their teammates Krylova and Ovsiannikov had arrived, and the Russians soon isolated themselves at a table opposite ours. I have to say I seem to have a knack for encountering Olympic gold medalists--aside from my encounter with Urmanov, at COI I was the recipient of a high-five from Viktor Petrenko. And now, I'd been noticing a blonde woman out in the lobby, talking with some coaches. Having an idea who it was, my curiosity got the better of me, and I went out for a closer look. And I found I was right--it was Carol Heiss Jenkins. I waited until her companions went their separate ways, at which point she turned to me with that seemingly ever-present big smile of hers. My offer of the program and marker with the basic compliment of "I think you're a great coach" was rewarded with the exclamation of "Oh, you're so cute!" Okay. Well. Anyway, she signed the front of the program, just as I began to realize that she was there as Timothy Goebel's coach. Took me long enough. I went back to the table in the lounge, and continued to wait. It was after midnight, and as more and more of our group made their way back, the circle of chairs around the table widened to comical proportions. Eventually I became too far away to converse with Fran, and chatted instead with Claudyne, who was beside me. But I was always watching the doorway, where so many fascinating people kept coming and going. And then, my personal hero made his first appearance. Todd was dressed gorgeously in a gray suit. He had a luggage cart with him, and was ultimately on his way toward the elevator, but there he was practically peeking around the doorway--as if waiting for attention. Though most of the others had seen him that afternoon and stayed where they were, Fran was quick to oblige him, with a round of questions about his new program and choreographer--whose name he started trying to spell. I had been frozen where I sat, but finally gathered the wits to pick up my Todd calendar and marker and make my way over to him. That smile, and those amazing blue eyes, were plenty enough to sabotage the words I'd rehearsed for months. I made some statement to the effect that he was the greatest who would ever live, and his response was a self-deprecating chuckle. "Well, I don't know about that..." He signed the calendar and handed it back. And, when I offered, he accepted a hug. That was certainly a pleasant feeling! Soon after, he extricated himself from Fran's questions and carted his luggage to the elevator. Claudyne went over and spoke to him briefly, as I remained by the doorway, watching him until the elevator doors closed. Then I returned to the table and sat in a happy daze. Richard Callaghan had soon replaced Todd at Fran's side out in the lobby, as her questions turned to him. Remembering another thing I had wanted and hoped to do, I strode back out and faced the coach. After having gathered the nerve to solicit a Todd hug, this was easy. "Sir, I just wanted to say I think you're wonderful." He didn't seem to know what to make of the compliment at first, but then he smiled in what looked like pleased surprise. "Well, it's nice to hear that every once in a while," was his amused reply. No one else I recognized wandered through after that, until an interminable time later when I finally saw my parents go by, heading the wrong way around the escalators. I hurried after them out into the lobby--and was met by a gaggle of flower girls, now back in their street clothes. One of them gave me a rose from the cluster in her hands, to which I mumbled a startled thanks. I have become fairly certain that one of the young ladies I saw from the corner of my eye was Sarah Hughes. The thought occurred to me in some form even a few minutes later--but with my mind on the encounter I had just had, I was not very observant at the moment. I finally caught up with my parents, both clutching roses, and dragged them toward the lounge--nearly halted by my mother's incredulous pointing and breathless whisper. "Isn't that Richard Callaghan? Then where's Todd?" "He went up the elevator. But that was after." I didn't give her a chance to ask what that meant. Instead, I introduced them to the Edgers, pointed out the Russian skaters at the other table, and started gathering my things to leave. I made the round of farewells, and was caught up for a moment talking to Claudyne. By the time I was ready to move off, Fran was gone again. She was at a table by the doorway with Richard, and Todd was there--a fact my mother noticed first. "There he is," she breathed, and nudged me. "How about a picture?" Such a thing had not even occurred to me earlier. Under almost any circumstances, I am camera-shy--but with Todd involved, of course, I acquiesced. I went over to the table, and finding The Man not imminently preoccupied, explained that my parents wanted a picture. He amiably stood, put his arm around me, and we faced the camera now in my father's hands. Though the picture was ultimately not to be, because of an untimely failure of the camera not discovered until later, I thoroughly enjoyed that long and pleasant moment at Todd's side. And when my father lowered the camera, I chose my own way to thank Todd. Turning to him, I stood on tiptoe--he being several inches taller than me--and tilted my head toward his. It took him a few seconds to get the idea, but then he tolerantly turned his head, leaned down and accepted a teensy little kiss on the cheek. It meant a lot to offer such a gesture of my admiration and fondness, and have it welcomed. Todd is not only a magnificent skater, he is the finest gentleman anyone could hope to meet. At any rate, that was about the extent of the night. I didn't want to intrude on the rest of Todd's evening--and besides, it was almost one o'clock in the morning--so I started for the exit. As I recall, I began babbling about the night and everything it had held by the time my parents and I were halfway through the lobby, and I don't think I shut up once until well after we got home. It was a wonderful evening.
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