A Meditation on Bestemianova and Bukin

He's crazy. She's crazy.

They're both crazy.

This, dear Prozac-saturated Yanks, is a good thing.

(I'm a Yank myself. I can say that.)

Now. Showing emotion is the point of ice dance. If you're crazy, you have both the strong emotions, past what our society deems appropriate; and the insane nerve to actually work hard enough to make all that emotion look good on ice.

The closest we have is Jerry Springer. And I'd have pulled all of them off the ice for bad edgework in half a heartbeat.

So she looks like a "scalded cat hugging a power line." (I wish to hell I'd made that one up.) He makes a damn good power line.

That, children, is the essence of ice dancing.

And I will leave it at that.

Who needs to say anything else? I will, of course, get in time to some of their technical array of tricks, but the best thing you can learn from these guys is how to be yourself.

And don't let them feed you the Prozac. It nukes your scoring. Right, Natalia?


Five Minutes To Ice Time

Sigh. Natalia. Fix your hair.

Sigh. Andrei. Check your skate laces.....

Four minutes. Lord. Natalia. Your hair looked better the other way.

Andrei. I didn't mean that boot. I meant the other one....

Three minutes. Are you sure you've got the right costumes on? You literally do not have time to change costumes at this point, so fake the choreography and think of something to tell the judges. Now.

Two minutes. Pray. Just pray.

One minute. Natalia, get your nails out of your mouth. It doesn't look ladylike.


"Ladies and gentlemen, from Russia, Natalia Bestemianova and Andrei Bukin!"