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Machine translation from Japanese to English, inaccuracies exist [P. 104-111] HANEW EXPERIENCE “Turning Yuzuru Hanyu’s new challenge into an experience for everyone.” HANEW EXPERIENCE Produced by au au × Yuzuru Hanyu A new project bringing KDDI and Yuzuru Hanyu together: HANEW EXPERIENCE. We spoke with Shōmin Kōda of KDDI’s Media Strategy Department and Kanako Higashi of Dentsu’s 6th Business Produce Bureau about the thoughts behind this new challenge and the behind-the-scenes process of creating it. Spoiler -Collapse to display content An Interview with Costume Designer Toshihiko Sakurai The costumes for "HANEW EXPERIENCE" were created by Toshihiko Sakurai, who also designed the costumes for “Utai IV ~Reawakening~” and “Mass Destruction -Reload-”. We asked him about the creation process for these latest costumes. Spoiler -Collapse to display content

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20170123023042/http://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014041700009.html 2014.04.18 Post-Sochi: Can Yuzuru Hanyu become the next Mao Asada? (4) - The Golden Age of Japanese Men's Figure Skating Is Coming A few years ago, despite his appearance as a guest at an ice show, the venue failed to fill all its seats. At the time, if the guest had been someone like Mao Asada, Daisuke Takahashi, or Evgeni Plushenko, tickets would undoubtedly have sold like hotcakes. Seeing the empty seats, Yuzuru Hanyu reportedly apologized to the show's promoter, saying, "I'm sorry I couldn't bring in more spectators " He had thought about why he had been invited and keenly felt that he had failed to fulfill that role. Hanyu is someone who thinks about all sorts of things like that. He has to consider his current role and work hard to shape his public image. I'm concerned about the burden this places on him. People are also surprisingly sensitive to anything that feels artificial. They may see through the persona he has desperately constructed to fit in with those around him and recognize that it is not the real Yuzuru Hanyu. And that, in turn, may cause him further suffering. Yuzuru Hanyu is a treasure of Japanese figure skating and a national treasure of Japan. Is it right to place such a burden on him alone? What does Yuzuru Hanyu need, and what does Japanese figure skating need for its future? The answer is his rivals. Let's look back at Hanyu's words from the first installment of this series ("Can Yuzuru Hanyu Become The Next Mao Asada? (1) [The 'Missing' Jump He Fixed]"). "The Plushenko I liked most was the Plushenko from when he was competing against Yagudin." "I'm sure a rival like that will definitely appear for me, too. If I didn't have a rival to compete against, I wouldn't be able to keep loving skating." At the recent World Championships, Tatsuki Machida boldly emerged as a formidable rival to Hanyu. But he is certainly not the only man capable of defeating Yuzuru Hanyu. On the international stage, there are Patrick Chan (Canada), Denis Ten (Kazakhstan), and Javier Fernández (Spain). But above all, we'd like to see more and more formidable contenders emerge from within Japan. Keiji Tanaka and Ryuju Hino are the same age as Hanyu. Then there is the younger generation: Shoma Uno (born in 1997), Taichi Honda (born in 1998), and Sota Yamamoto (born in 2000). Many young skaters are making rapid progress, striving to catch up with Hanyu before the PyeongChang Olympics. Of course, his rivals can be older than him, too. I'd like to see plenty more exciting performances from Takahiko Kozuka and Takahito Mura, with Machida leading the way. They all look like quiet, gentle, somewhat timid young men. Yet beneath that appearance, they are astonishingly strong-willed athletes who hate to lose. It would surely be frustrating for them to watch Yuzuru Hanyu stand alone at the summit of superstardom, a position that had been thought attainable only by a woman, someone like Mao Asada. Over the next four years, new stars will surely emerge one after another, each seeking to take Hanyu down and delighting audiences in the process. This was something that never happened with Mao Asada or Japanese women's figure skating. Rather than simply following an untouchable heroine, these male skaters will challenge the reigning hero, each determined to claim his crown. We are sure to witness this kind of thrilling battle in Japanese men's figure skating in the years ahead. Of course, Hanyu won't want to lose to his friends and fellow skaters, either. At this year's World Championships, being pursued by Machida seemed to bring about a miracle: Hanyu successfully landed two different types of quadruple jumps. As his rivals improve, Hanyu will refuse to be outdone and will grow even stronger. In fact, signs of this were already apparent. During this month of ice shows, Hanyu reportedly looked remarkably frustrated when he saw Machida land a quadruple flip cleanly during a practice session. Then, at a practice session for the next ice show, Hanyu himself landed a perfect quadruple loop! Neither jump had yet been successfully landed in official competition by anyone. If either were landed successfully in competition, it would be a first in history. Surely this has already made us all the more eager for the next season. If they maintain this momentum, the Japanese men's team, centered on Yuzuru Hanyu, might become the strongest team in history, for whom sweeping the podium would be almost routine. An extraordinary golden age of Japanese men's figure skating may be just around the corner, one that will capture the attention of the media and even people with no interest in skating. Japanese figure skating needs a Mao Asada. But can Yuzuru Hanyu truly become Mao Asada? It won’t be Yuzuru Hanyu alone who sweeps away all those adult agendas and commercial interests, but the next generation of Japanese male figure skaters as well. Figure skating was once disparaged as a "sport for sissies," and people said, "We don't need it unless it has a female star!" But these skaters will surely sweep away such attitudes. A new four-year journey lies ahead, leading up to the PyeongChang Olympics. They will continue skating on the ice, a stage more dazzling than ever before and more demanding than ever before. Let us wish every one of them the very best as they give it their all.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20170123024433/http://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014041600009.html 2014.04.17 Post-Sochi: Can Yuzuru Hanyu become the next Mao Asada? (3) - Beyond the Manufactured Image of “Yuzuru” Unlike Daisuke Takahashi's charisma, Mao Asada possesses a kind of popular appeal that reaches a much wider audience in Japan. That appeal brings more people into contact with figure skating and revitalizes the sport from the ground up. Could Yuzuru Hanyu perhaps take on that role? Watching the frenzy that followed the Sochi Olympics, people are beginning to think so. “Japanese people like strong athletes who can compete on the world stage. He's the first Japanese man ever to win Olympic gold, and he's so young. Hanyu certainly has what it takes to become an idol representing the skating world.” “After all, he's already won the Olympic gold medal that Mao-chan never managed to win.” If Yuzuru Hanyu really were placed in a position where he had to bear such a heavy responsibility, would he be all right? The expectation is that he will become a strong champion who keeps winning all the way to the PyeongChang Olympics. That is ultimately up to his own training and mental preparation. There's little point in us worrying about it, and to some extent, there's probably no need to worry. Instead, perhaps we should devote our efforts to protecting him from external pressures and scandals unrelated to competition. If he is to become the figure who leads the world of figure skating in Mao Asada's place, the entire industry must unite and do everything in its power to protect him. Another concern is whether being elevated to superstar status might go to his head or make him complacent. This was one aspect of Mao Asada that never changed, no matter how much attention she attracted or how popular she became. Even after becoming such an extraordinary figure, she never grew arrogant or behaved haughtily. Of course, that was part of what made Mao such a unique personality. Compared with Mao Asada, Yuzuru Hanyu is a fairly “ordinary” boy. Although he hasn't shown it lately, he can be somewhat prone to getting carried away. I was a little concerned about that side of him, so when I recently managed to get just ten minutes for a one-on-one interview, I took the opportunity to talk with him. To my great relief, he seemed remarkably unchanged from before. “He hasn't changed at all, even after becoming an Olympic gold medalist,” another reporter remarked admiringly. Looking at Hanyu now, it's hard to imagine him being brought down by complacency or overconfidence. But what about from here on? For now, he's frantically focused on the tasks immediately ahead of him: the World Championships right after the Olympics, followed without a break by a tour of ice shows. The commercial frenzy on a scale he never imagined will come later. Before the Sochi Olympics, he had already achieved a certain level of success and become a popular skater. What awaits him now, however, will be incomparably more complicated and chaotic than anything he experienced back then. Until now, Japanese male skaters, no matter how popular they became, had been able to remain outside "this world." Hanyu is now being thrust into a world experienced only by superstars on the scale of Mao Asada. For example, although such a thing should never happen in sport, there may be certain competitions in which things take an undesirable turn, such as Hanyu being allowed to win despite lackluster performances in order to maintain his popularity. Will he be able to endure being placed in such a helpless situation, when all he wants as a teenage athlete is to devote himself to hard work and self-improvement until PyeongChang? Mao Asada's greatness lies in her ability to keep moving forward, unchanged, sustained solely by her love of skating, even in such circumstances.She gave no thought to the amounts of money generated by her performances or to her social influence. Even if she thought about such things to some extent, she was never swayed by them. Mao Asada may be the only person capable of continuing to skate with such a pure heart. It could be said that her extraordinary nature as a person was what allowed both her own popularity and the popularity of figure skating to flourish in such a remarkable balance. Even so, compared with when she was a child, Asada seems to have smiled less as she continued to occupy her current position. Changes had certainly taken place in her that would not have occurred if her struggles had been limited to difficulties within the sport, such as problems with her jumps or concerns about her training environment. Even Mao Asada was placed in a position where she could not help but change. Will Yuzuru Hanyu really be all right? I believe that even if he becomes an unquestionably popular star, he is not the kind of person who will grow complacent. Even if he did become a little conceited, thinking himself rather impressive, I do not believe that would ruin him as an athlete. On that point, I have faith in him. But he might, to some extent, shape himself to fit public expectations and the manufactured image of “Yuzuru Hanyu.” And he might do so with all his might, simply because he wants to live up to everyone's expectations. After the Olympics, as Hanyu was celebrated as a new hero and prince, a skater close to him said he felt sorry for him. “The news about Yuzuru that's going around now... doesn't it sound as if they're talking about a completely different person? That's not who he is. I feel sorry for him, and I'm worried about him.” The heroic image portrayed by television variety shows and other programs was strange enough, but I was also concerned that newspaper coverage of his character had become almost entirely focused on his experience of the earthquake disaster. Various accounts explained that his experience of the disaster and the difficulties he faced with his training environment afterward were what had made him mentally strong. But that narrative was far too simplistic. Yuzuru Hanyu was already strong long before the earthquake. The disaster was certainly a profound experience, but it did not fundamentally change who he was. I cannot shake the feeling that by focusing so heavily on earthquake-related stories, the media are losing sight of his essential strength, his innate qualities, and his appeal as a person. It makes you realize that this is how heroic images are created, shaped to suit the convenience of those doing the reporting. One column drew parallels between the way Hanyu was being portrayed and the cases of Mamoru Samuragochi and Haruko Obokata. That comparison was certainly apt. Those two became the talk of the town largely because of the stories surrounding them, rather than the musical works or research themselves. The same thing is happening to Hanyu: everything other than the main point, his skating, is becoming the subject of public attention. Of course, Hanyu is different from those who actively sought to exploit the images and narratives that had taken on lives of their own. In truth, he probably no longer wants to talk about the earthquake. I cannot forget the pained smile he gave me when he spoke at length about his experiences shortly after the disaster. “When I talk about this kind of thing, I'll probably dream about that day again tonight.” Even last season, when the NHK Trophy was held in Miyagi, he seemed to struggle considerably with having to answer questions about the earthquake while competing. If what he had overcome had been an injury, an illness, or the death of a family member, he could have sent a message asking people to stop defining him solely by that experience. But when someone who has lived through the extraordinary experience of a natural disaster goes on to achieve such remarkable success, it is inevitable that he will be turned into a “star of reconstruction.” Even so, Hanyu himself seems to make a conscious effort to speak about things he would rather not discuss, driven by his wholehearted desire that “if my existence can help the recovery effort, even just a little, then...” The image of a hero from the disaster-stricken region, along with the various superficial images of “Yuzuru” that have taken shape around him, may cause him some suffering as he tries not to disappoint those expectations. The kind of suffering he will experience is one that Mao Asada, who was able to keep skating as herself, never had to endure.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20201025024836/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014041500004.html 2014.04.16 Post-Sochi: Can Yuzuru Hanyu become the next Mao Asada? (2) - The Skater the Figure Skating World Needs The Olympic season brings events that far exceed even our wildest expectations. I had thought that Yuzuru Hanyu winning the men’s singles title at the Olympics was not entirely out of the question. He had plenty of youthful charm, and I vaguely imagined that if he won, he would become a popular star. However, I had never imagined he would become this popular, filling Saitama Super Arena for the World Championships even without Daisuke Takahashi, and becoming such an extraordinary sensation that weekly magazines and television talk shows were all devoting special features to him. “People in Japan didn’t know Yuzuru Hanyu as well as we thought they did,” one figure skating insider remarked. That was exactly right. At the age of just 17, Hanyu became a World Championship bronze medalist. At 18, he set a world-record score in the short program, and at 19, he won the Grand Prix Final. For those of us in the skating world, this young man, who might even pull off an unexpected victory at the Sochi Olympics, was already more than a familiar face. But to the general Japanese public, he was still a relatively unfamiliar skater. So when he suddenly emerged as Japan's first-ever Olympic gold medalist in men's figure skating, it caused a sensation, with people asking, “Who on earth is this guy?!” As a result, ice shows across Japan were hugely successful in April. The young man was working through interview schedules packed minute by minute, continuing to deliver passionate performances amid enthusiastic cheers from the audience. Then, when I saw Hanyu occupying the center of the skaters' photographs on an ice show promotional poster, displacing Mao Asada, who had been the undisputed star, I had a thought. Mao Asada had yet to announce what she intended to do next. But if she were to retire, or perhaps take a temporary break, could Yuzuru Hanyu become the figure who took her place? It has been nearly ten years since figure skating first became truly popular in Japan. During that time, Mao Asada had shouldered an enormous role and responsibility, occupying a position of immense importance. Of course, figure skating's popularity also depended on the many other popular skaters alongside her. Even so, there would have been a huge difference between having Asada and not having her. Mao Asada had played the role of continually drawing people's attention to the sport, including those who had little particular interest in figure skating. Even people who knew little about the rules would watch television if “Mao-chan is competing.” In other words, figure skating was broadcast during prime time because Asada was there. It was not just competitions. A variety of events were held throughout the year because Mao Asada was there. At times, she even helped draw public attention to important issues, such as the very survival of skating rinks. People would think, “Something serious seems to be happening to the sport Mao-chan does.” Furthermore, many people who initially became interested in skating because of Asada went on to find favorite skaters in the men's events or ice dance. Some became devoted fans who learned to appreciate the sport beyond its surface appeal. A similar phenomenon occurred in South Korea with Kim Yuna. People first focused their attention on Yuna as a single star. From there, more fans became knowledgeable about the international skating scene, and skaters such as Daisuke Takahashi in men's figure skating, Canada's Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir in ice dance, and China's Pang Qing and Tong Jian in pairs became hugely popular in South Korea. Compared with discussions of television ratings and advertising, this may seem like a less conspicuous aspect of her influence, but Asada had certainly played a role in broadening the base of figure skating fans. No other skater had been able to attract attention on that scale, and her presence as a star, along with everything she had accomplished without even realizing it, was simply enormous. That was why so many people had been desperately searching for the “next Mao Asada” over the past several years. She could not remain an active competitor forever. People in broadcasting, those working in other media, and those at the heart of the skating world all knew that. So many people who did not want to see skating's popularity decline were frightened precisely because they could not find the “next Mao-chan.” Contrary to their expectations, however, the most vibrant part of Japan's skating world was its men's field, led by Yuzuru Hanyu. Whenever I brought this up, people would often respond, “No, that's not it! Figure skating needs a female star!” I understood their point very well, but... Then the Sochi Olympics ended, and what erupted was an entirely unexpected Yuzuru Hanyu frenzy. At this point, I found myself wondering: Could he perhaps...? Could he take on the enormous responsibility that Mao Asada had carried? These were thoughts that had never occurred to me before the Sochi Olympics. First of all, Japanese men's figure skating already had a skater who had achieved considerable popularity before Hanyu: Daisuke Takahashi. Those who do not attend competitions in person may not fully appreciate it, but Takahashi's charisma is extraordinary, too. Mao Asada had an overwhelming impact on television ratings and the number of commercial appearances she made. Yet when it came to driving magazine and book sales, as well as attendance at ice shows and competitions, it was actually Takahashi who had the greatest impact. In other words, Asada had the kind of mainstream popularity that made people think, “If Mao-chan is competing, I might as well watch.” But Takahashi had many times more fans who wanted to know more about Daisuke and see as much of him as possible. They were not satisfied with watching him on television alone, so they went to competitions in person and bought publications featuring him. This distinction was clearly evident in the media, too. Newspapers and television placed greater priority on covering Mao Asada, while magazine writers catering to the needs of dedicated fans considered securing interviews with Takahashi more important. Even among those of us working in the media, this subtle division of roles had taken shape. In fact, 90 percent of those watching the men's singles competition at the Sochi Olympics in person were Daisuke Takahashi fans. Television broadcasters apparently wanted to capture images of Japanese fans celebrating Hanyu's victory, but most of the spectators were dejected, thinking about Takahashi, who had finished sixth. Fans loved not only Takahashi's overwhelmingly artistic performances but also his personality. He could be a little timid, and early in his career he repeatedly disappointed people's expectations. But he struggled and struggled until he grew stronger. Even after becoming strong, he never lost his endearing humility or his self-love, which was so unabashed that it made those watching him blush. Many people loved this kind of skater deeply and intensely, even if his appeal did not extend to as broad an audience as Mao Asada's. And yet, some people would insist: “Even so, what the figure skating world truly needs is Mao-chan!”

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20170212115604/http://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014033100006.html 2014.04.01 Post-Sochi: Can Yuzuru Hanyu become the next Mao Asada? (1) - The “Missing” Jump He Fixed It was a truly magnificent first World Championship victory. At the end of the short program (SP), Yuzuru Hanyu was in third place. I had heard that, seeking to escape the commotion following the Olympics, he had flown to Toronto almost immediately after returning to Japan, only to make another quick turnaround, and that his physical condition was far from good. In the SP, he had even fallen on a jump with an astonishing degree of underrotation. Even during the official practice session on the morning of the free skate, his quadruple toe loop wasn't going well. Even when he landed it, he would tilt his head and examine the marks his blade had left on the ice. He was short on rotation. He must have realized that he wasn't jumping his usual toe loop. His quadruple Salchow seemed to be in better shape, leading people to think, "It's going to be difficult for Hanyu to win." Tatsuki Machida, who had arrived at the World Championships in excellent physical and mental condition, was in first place after the short program. Everyone expected him to hold on to his lead and win. But then came the six-minute warm-up just before the free skate. That was when I began to think, "Maybe..." Right in front of the press seats, Hanyu nailed the very jump he had been so worried about: the quadruple toe loop. Fatigue from the Olympics, the pressure of being a champion, the return of pain from an old injury... Various factors were cited as contributing to his short-program mistakes. But the real reason was, in fact, that his quadruple Salchow was going so well. Figure-skating jumps are delicate things. Once you get the feel for one jump, you can sometimes lose the feel for another. For example, a skater who has only just learned to land a triple Axel might temporarily find themselves unable to land even a double Axel. I often hear skaters describe this kind of problem: “Once I learned the triple, I forgot how to do the double.” Of course, skaters make all the necessary adjustments to these subtle aspects of their technique before competing. But Hanyu's quadruple jumps were in precisely this kind of situation. He had declared, "I'll absolutely have it ready for the Olympics!" Yet his quadruple Salchow had failed him in Sochi. He was determined to make up for that at the World Championships, no matter what. He was pouring an extraordinary amount of effort and determination into this jump. In a short period of time, he had somehow managed to regain his feel for the Salchow. The trade-off was that a subtle misalignment had crept into his quadruple toe loop, a jump he had previously performed with remarkable precision. Skaters often describe this situation by saying, "My jump has gone missing," "My quad is lost," or "It's gone somewhere!" It's a frustrating situation in which a jump they could previously land suddenly becomes impossible, at least temporarily. Even someone as talented as Yuzuru Hanyu couldn't get it back overnight. So when he nailed that jump during the six-minute warm-up, after struggling with it so much during the morning's official practice, I found myself staring in amazement. "It's back!" In an incredibly short period of time, he had brought his quadruple Salchow up to standard, then corrected his "missing" toe loop during the competition itself. He landed both types of quadruple jumps perfectly, the very two jumps that had been his main challenges, and finished first in the free skate. He closed the seven-point gap to Tatsuki Machida in one fell swoop, pulling off an astonishing comeback victory. What was even more infuriating, though, was his comment after winning the title. "It's been a while since I've been in a situation where I had to catch up after the short program. It was really fun!" That's right. This guy is a competitor through and through, a nineteen-year-old practically made of fighting spirit. His opponent was his close friend, "Tatsuki-kun," with whom he often horsed around backstage at ice shows. Machida was five years his senior, but Hanyu had competed at the World Championships first and won a world medal before him. This year, however, Machida had been relentlessly pursuing him. At the second Grand Prix event, Skate Canada, Hanyu had even experienced the frustration of being unable to surpass Machida's score from the first event, Skate America. At the All-Japan Championships, Machida had finished a close second behind him, and the two had gone on to share the Olympic stage in Sochi. Now, at the very last moment, this "new star" might overtake him... After the short program, Hanyu had put on a calm front in front of reporters, saying things like, "Nothing is different from usual." But his frustration was unmistakable. That night, he must surely have been tossing and turning, rolling around in his room. "No, I'm stronger! I'm going to win!" And yet, there was no lie in his words: "It was really fun." Someone remarked, "Maybe Hanyu is the one who is happiest about Machida's tremendous rise." That may well be true. To unleash his fighting spirit against a formidable rival and ultimately come out on top: that is the greatest joy for Yuzuru Hanyu, the competitor. After the free skate at the Sochi Olympics, I quoted Hanyu as saying, “I want to become a skater who can lead everyone.” There was actually more to that statement. Wouldn't it be tough to become someone whom skaters all over the world are chasing? Wouldn't it be frightening? Was he really all right with that? He replied: "Not at all! Because that's exactly what Plushenko was, right? And the Plushenko I liked best was the one who was competing against Yagudin. So I'm sure a rival like that will appear for me, too. If I didn't have a rival to compete against, I wouldn't be able to keep loving skating. "When I watch Patrick now [Patrick Chan, who had won three consecutive World Championship titles], I think it must be absolutely no fun for him. Winning even when he makes that many mistakes must be boring. For an athlete who lives in the world of competition, there's nothing more frustrating than that. It must be incredibly difficult to keep winning when you haven't even delivered a performance you're satisfied with.” (Comment made after Skate America 2012) Driven by two things, Hanyu seized the World Championship title: his pride in the two types of quadruple jumps he absolutely refused to give up on, and his fierce competitive spirit against Tatsuki Machida, a rival he absolutely refused to lose to. After winning the Grand Prix Final and the Olympics, he had now won the World Championships as well. There was one question I had been pondering ever since Sochi about this young nineteen-year-old champion. Could Yuzuru Hanyu become the next Mao Asada? "Mao-chan? You mean, why not Daisuke Takahashi?" That's the kind of response I get when I bring up this subject. But I feel that Hanyu is now in a position where he may have to shoulder the heavy responsibility that Mao Asada had carried for so many years.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20190512130220/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014031400011.html 2014.03.14 Sochi Olympics Report (Extra Edition) - Living in the Olympic Park District (Part 3) Thank You for a Wonderful Olympics! There certainly were all sorts of things that happened, and some of the worst were things I could never tell anyone about. But, well, let it be. When you stay somewhere for three weeks, things eventually work themselves out. First, I managed to secure an internet connection. The connection in the garage of my lodging had finally stopped working, and I even wandered around town with my laptop in search of somewhere to get online. Then I discovered a corner of the Olympic Park where a Russian telecommunications company was providing free Wi-Fi. At least in the worst-case scenario, I could always come here and get things done. From then on, after each day's events, I would sit on a bench, download all the data, including the protocols, and then head back to my lodging. Perhaps a cheerful Ukrainian woman felt sorry for me as I sat there looking so desperately preoccupied while everyone else, elated after watching the competitions, made their way home. She gave me a gold medal chocolate. "Since Hanyu worked so hard, something good will happen to you, too." But the Olympic Park was a long way away. I needed to find somewhere closer where I could send my articles whenever I wanted... And I found one! On the fifth day of my stay, I finally picked up a free Wi-Fi signal at a hotel café just an eight-minute walk from my lodging. From that day on, the café became my very own press center. I wonder what the staff thought of this East Asian woman who showed up every day, occupied a seat for hours with nothing but a cup of tea, furiously hammered away at her keyboard with her eyes wide open, and talked loudly on the phone. Even so, one waiter who spoke English would strike up conversations with me. "You're from Japan? I like Haruki Murakami. Norwegian Wood, Dance Dance Dance, they're wonderful..." I was so happy that I wanted to tell him I liked Tolstoy, too. But there was no way I could talk about Tolstoy with anything like the same fluency with which he talked about Haruki Murakami. In this way, the people of Sochi (or, to be precise, Adler in Sochi City. Here, "Sochi" refers to the Sochi district of Sochi City, which is an hour away from the Olympic Park by train) were, for the most part, friendly and kind. The neighborhood where I was staying had a pleasant atmosphere, with longtime local residents and people like me who had come to stay for the Olympics all living together harmoniously. During both the opening and closing ceremonies, everyone, from the landlady to the other lodgers, went out into the street to enjoy the fireworks going off nearby, cheering and shouting together. When someone started yelling, "Rossiya!" even the Japanese and Belarusians joined in, chanting for Russia together. At the neighborhood grocery store I visited so often, the man there would talk enthusiastically about Yulia Lipnitskaya, while I enthusiastically told his daughter about Yuzuru Hanyu. Since they weren't fluent in English, a radio DJ who had come from Kazakhstan acted as our interpreter. At the shops, cafeterias, and lodging houses, the local people could hardly speak any English, but Russian speakers who had come to work as volunteers or cover the event were always ready to help. The gardener, who could never remember my name no matter how many times I told him, eventually started calling me "Tokyo!" Well, that was fine, too. One day, the man at the cafeteria earnestly asked me to teach him about Kyokushin karate, but I felt bad that I couldn't teach him a single thing. For some reason, people were incredibly welcoming whenever I said I was from Japan. There was an elderly woman at a pirozhki shop who would even wrap up freshly fried ones that hadn't been put out for sale yet, saying, "I'll give you these instead." Anastasia brought me some sweet Russian fruit wine and chocolates to apologize for the fact that I couldn't use the Wi-Fi. The yellow mimosa blossoms in the garden grew more vivid by the day, and the landlady even put a sprig in our room. Then, once the men's and women's competitions began, friends, acquaintances, and skating coaches from Japan started arriving, and the town grew livelier. I was sad when the nail clippers a friend had brought me as a little care package, something I simply couldn't find anywhere in town, were confiscated at the Olympic Park security checkpoint. But I was already so happy that someone had gone to the trouble of bringing them all that way for me. I will never forget how delicious the kitsune soba a friend made for me when she stayed in my room during the women's competition was. Come to think of it, when it came to food, this town was truly blessed. I can't count the number of times a good meal had come to my rescue. I had eaten at restaurants a few times, but the food was ordinary and nothing particularly special. What you really shouldn't overlook, however, are the casual cafeterias scattered throughout town. The prepared dishes there were of remarkable quality! There were three within walking distance of my lodging and another two a little farther away. All five operated on a cafeteria-style system: take a tray, line up, choose the salads and small side dishes you like, and have the staff serve you your main dish and rice. They varied in size, from tiny places run by a single woman to ones about the size of a compact company cafeteria, complete with a selection of desserts. But all five cafeterias I visited in rotation were absolutely delicious, without exception! Take, for example, a chicken dish baked with tomatoes and mushrooms on top, covered with cheese and mayonnaise. The mayonnaise wasn't just there for flavor. It enveloped the chicken in an indescribable sweetness and savoriness. The rice was just a little firm, but otherwise not unlike Japanese rice. Sometimes it had a mild curry flavor, and it went well with any of the side dishes. There were plenty of other staples besides rice, including pasta, potatoes, and beans. But the staff had learned that I always chose rice, every single day. I was delighted to feel like a regular when one of the women would be waiting for me with the question, "Which rice will you have today?" There was also a wide variety of soups, so it was easy to get plenty of vegetables. The pickled carrot salad, in particular, was so addictive that I bought some to take away every day and kept it stocked in the refrigerator. The prices were low, too. For example, the meal shown in the photo on the right, curry-flavored chicken with rice, a large meatball, borscht, smetana, a local specialty similar to sour cream, and green tea, cost just 160 rubles (about 480 yen). Having food this delicious in such a casual, unpretentious setting reminded me of eating at street stalls in Asia. Whenever I thought, "Ah, the food is delicious again today," I could forget about all sorts of other troubles. I also had meals packed into containers to take away and ate them at the entrance to the Olympic Park. The only problem was the food packaging in Russia. The containers would melt or crack after just a brief spell in the microwave. I couldn't help wondering whether they were safe, but even as liquid seeped out of the bottom and I tried to catch it with a handkerchief, the food was so good that I ate every last bite. With these packed meals, there was no need to pay the exorbitant prices for food inside the Olympic Park. Strangely enough, apart from the friends I took there myself, I never saw any other Japanese people at these wonderful local cafeterias. Sometimes, when I said, "The food in Sochi is delicious, isn't it?" people would give me a look as if to say, "Really?" But if they had spent several days in town and left without ever discovering anything beyond the expensive restaurants serving safe, unremarkable food, I thought that was a real shame. One day, I found myself swept into a party at a cafeteria, where a large group of people had gathered. They invited me to join them for drinks, and I ended up joining the gathering. They were technicians working inside the Olympic Park. Apparently, they had come from other Russian cities and places such as Ukraine to work there temporarily for the duration of the Games. They offered me vodka, so I brought out some salted kelp that I happened to have with me and quickly pickled some cucumbers to serve as snacks. We couldn't communicate very well, but I think I managed to convey my feeling of gratitude: "Thank you for a wonderful Olympics." The woman at the cafeteria whom I had come to know well through my frequent visits, and who reminded me of Elena Gedevanishvili, asked me, "How old are you, really?" We then whispered our ages to each other, making sure the other male customers couldn't hear. Somehow, I felt that women asking each other their ages was a sign of having become close, no matter what country they were in, and that made me happy. Today is my 24th day in Sochi. Because I had cut costs on my airfare (less than 100,000 yen), I couldn't return home right away. Even three days after the closing ceremony, I was still going to the cafeterias. The only people left in town seemed to be staff who would stay on until the Paralympics. When I ordered borscht from the soup counter, tucked away at the back where it was hard to spot, a female volunteer came over excitedly and said, "Oh, so that's where the borscht is!" Clearly, I was more of a regular than she was. Just as I was beginning to feel that I might end up staying in this town forever... tomorrow, at last, my flight to Japan would arrive. (completed on March 3, 2014)

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20190512130220/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014031300007.html 2014.03.13 Sochi Olympics Report (Extra Edition) - Living in the Olympic Park District (Part 2) Troubles piled up one after another, pushing me to my physical limits... There were plenty of other terrible things that happened, too, though they weren't the accommodation's fault. For example, the tickets I had ordered failed to arrive. This time, to cut costs, I bought tickets through auctions and online resale sites, checking every site I could find, both in Japan and overseas, to get the cheapest tickets available. The team event tickets cost 9,000 yen, and the men's short program tickets cost 10,000 yen, both for Category A seats. The most expensive ticket was for the women's singles free skate, at 33,000 yen for a Category B seat. At face value, these tickets would cost 70,000 to 80,000 yen, but apparently, because Sochi was such an inconvenient place to travel to, many people who had bought tickets found themselves unable to attend. I was grateful to those who were willing to pass their tickets on to me. However, because I hadn't obtained the tickets through official channels, one problem after another arose. The tickets for the team event, which I had bought from a dubious overseas website, had somehow been sent to London instead of Sochi, and there was no sign of them arriving. In the end, I never got to see that day's competition in person. I kept waiting outside the house for FedEx right up until the start of the event, but... The tickets for the women's free skate didn't arrive until midday on the day of the competition. I had given up hope of ever seeing it, but when those tickets finally arrived, that single ticket seemed nothing short of miraculous! Then there was the men's short program. Despite having a ticket, I was told, "This ticket is invalid!" and denied entry to the Olympic Park. Apparently, the seat printed on the ticket had been reassigned, and a Japanese ticket agency was supposed to have a representative waiting near the Iceberg Skating Palace to exchange it for a new ticket. However, before I could even reach the Iceberg, I was told "Cancelled!" at the Olympic Park gate and couldn't get inside at all. This was a serious problem. Even after I explained the situation, I was told, "This ticket is invalid. There's nothing we can do. The ticket was issued by the Japanese Olympic Committee, so please contact them." It was already past 10 p.m. in Japan! Fortunately, the Japanese spectators who had run into the same problem banded together. After being sent from one place to another, we finally managed to get a replacement admission ticket for each of us. But there was hardly any time left before the competition began. Exhausted, I hurried as fast as I could toward the Iceberg, where I was finally handed a replacement ticket. That was how it all unfolded. By the time I reached my seat, the first group was already six minutes into its warm-up. If I had remained stuck at the gate any longer, I would have missed Yuzuru Hanyu's score of over 100 points. But why was this person buying tickets when she was supposed to be covering the Olympics as a journalist? Didn't the press center have internet access? And why did she have to struggle to get by in such cheap accommodation? Some of you may be wondering. That's right. The Olympics come only once every four years, and a struggling freelance writer like me can't get a press accreditation pass. I cover competitions everywhere, from the Japanese National Championships to the World Championships, but the Olympics are the one event for which I can't obtain a press ID. I tried every possible avenue and even pleaded with the Japanese Olympic Committee, but to no avail. It had been the same at the Turin and Vancouver Olympics, so I had been prepared for this. I even considered giving up on going to Sochi altogether. But I had work commissioned by 19 companies across 25 different media outlets, including magazines, books, websites, television, and radio, so I simply couldn't afford not to go. What's more, although I had received some assistance with reporting expenses for Vancouver, this time I received nothing at all. Things were tough, but I had to cut costs wherever possible and make the trip profitable no matter what. Otherwise, I would have gone to Sochi as a hobbyist rather than as a professional journalist. Considering the cost of accommodation, tickets, and even airfare, I doubt anyone else made it to Sochi as cheaply as I did. Reports said that a one-week package tour cost around one million yen, that obtaining a Russian visa was a hassle, and that registering for a spectator pass was also necessary, making it even more difficult than usual to attend the Olympics in person. But if you really set your mind to it, there was always a way to make things work. What I couldn't do anything about, though, was the fact that I could only watch the athletes I had followed for so long take center stage from the distant stands. I couldn't even attend the official practice sessions, which I normally watched closely. Of course, I couldn't hear the athletes' comments immediately after their events, either, as I usually did. This report, too, was written without any access to the athletes' post-competition comments. In the end, I felt as though the skating gods were whispering to me, "You don't deserve to be here." Even so, I still had work to do. There were times when I wrote articles until dawn, then got only two hours of sleep in the morning, only to be woken up four times by phone calls from Japan. The people calling had properly taken the time difference into account, so it was my own fault for staying up all night and sleeping in the morning. I realized I had reached the limits of my stamina during that ticket-cancellation fiasco. The competition was about to begin, and I hurried toward the Iceberg on foot, but I couldn't keep up with everyone else's brisk pace. I had to say, "I can't go any farther. Please go ahead without me!" I was being left behind because I couldn't keep up physically with people much older than I was. Still, perhaps the sheer intensity of the work was what kept me going mentally. I had no time to dwell on how painful it was not to be able to cover the competition properly. I was simply caught up in a relentless cycle of writing and speaking, completely absorbed in my work. Friends among the reporters and photographers whom I occasionally ran into at the venues later told me that I had looked remarkably happy. Watching the competition from the stands alongside people waving Japanese flags and banners supporting their favorite skaters was something I would never normally get to do. I even found myself joining in the chants of "Mao-chan!" and "Kana-chan!" for the first time. Once, I sat next to a man who told me he had come because he loved the Olympics, although he didn't know much about figure skating. As he asked questions, I found myself explaining things to him: "That jump just now was a Lutz. The next one is a double Axel." "That pair over there are the current world champions, and that pair are the Vancouver Olympic champions. They're rivals, but they train under the same coach." "That's amazing! It's just like watching the competition with Shizuka Arakawa herself!" he said delightedly. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm just an impostor. Another time, a photographer said to me, "Must be nice. You get to relax and enjoy yourself as a spectator. We haven't slept at all, you know." That's true. I love skating far more than you do, so perhaps I'm enjoying the Olympics even more than you are. I may not be able to cover the competition officially, but I'm probably enjoying this greatest-of-all-stages event, which comes around only once every four years, more than anyone else. After all, I'm the happiest skating fan in the world. I've been fortunate enough to witness the very best era of Japanese figure skating unfold before my eyes.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E7%95%AA%E5%A4%96%E7%B7%A8 https://web.archive.org/web/20190512130220/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2014031200003.html 2014.03.12 Sochi Olympics Report (Extra Edition) - Living in the Olympic Park District (Part 1) Just 200 meters from the Venue!? That was the selling point of the place where I stayed. It wasn't a hotel or a B&B (Bed and Breakfast), but a spare room in an annex of a private home, available for rent at 6,000 yen a night. The shower, toilet, and kitchen were shared, and meals were not included. The landlady changed the towels and sheets at irregular intervals. Besides me, there were other guests who had come to Sochi from Greece, Belarus, and other Russian cities to cover or watch the Olympics, so the place had quite a lively atmosphere. We chatted using phrasebooks with pointing illustrations and Google Translate (this app seems to be on everyone's smartphone around the world!) and exchanged currency and snacks from our respective countries. The hole in a Japanese five-yen coin fascinated people, and rice crackers were popular, too. We took turns using the only washing machine and hung our laundry on the same clothesline alongside the other men. Among the clothes hanging out to dry was a polo shirt bearing the Nagano Olympics logo. Wow, I thought. This person must have been covering the Winter Olympics for much longer than I had. It was probably Alexander's polo shirt, from the room next door. There were two calico cats in the house, Toasty and Marquise. Toasty was the chubby one, the less cute of the two, but she took a liking to me right away. And sure enough, just 200 meters from the Olympic Park! Beyond the laundry hanging out to dry, the Olympic flame burned brightly every day. When I decided to go to Sochi to cover the Olympics, naturally, the first thing I did was look for a hotel. But at the time, in December 2013, even the cheapest hotel cost 20,000 yen a night. Staying for three weeks at that rate would be tough. So I found a website listing vacant rooms in private homes. The twin room I eventually booked was listed at 12,000 yen a night. I negotiated with the landlady, Anastasia, by email in a mixture of English and Russian. "I'll be staying alone, so would 6,000 yen be possible? I don't mind sharing the room with someone else." After some back-and-forth, we finally reached an agreement. Well, 6,000 yen a night wasn't exactly cheap either, but it was a third of what the hotel I had originally considered would have cost. (In the end, no strangers ever shared the room with me during my stay.) Still, whenever I told friends and acquaintances that I had rented a room by negotiating directly with a Russian family, they all expressed concern. "Are you sure that's safe? It's Russia!" Who knew? I had no idea myself. There was always the possibility that I might arrive in Sochi to find nobody waiting for me and nowhere to stay. But at Sochi Airport, Anastasia was there waiting for me, holding a piece of paper with "HIRONO" written on it. She even used Google Translate to offer me some kind words. Something along the lines of "If anything happens, you should tell us. We'd be happy to help" appeared on her phone screen in halting Japanese. During the ten-minute drive from the airport to her house, she enthusiastically pointed out and explained the various Olympic facilities we passed. "This is the athletes' village, and this is the Main Press Centre. And look, you can see the hockey venue!" I had heard that many residents had been forced to relocate from the area where the Olympic Park was built, so the Games were not necessarily welcomed by everyone. Fortunately, however, the construction site had been right next to this family's home. They had probably watched the various facilities take shape one after another from close range. Anastasia and her husband proudly pointed out the imposing, enormous buildings. "Look, that's the Olympic cauldron. The Olympic flame will be lit there the day after tomorrow." Because the shower was shared, I sometimes caught sight of the man next door wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around himself. The kitchen was incredibly old-fashioned, and the gas stove had to be lit with a match. Not just Sochi, but Russia in general seemed to be a country where things were rather poorly put together. A chair would suddenly break beneath someone (the man who came to fix the air conditioner fell off it), a large wardrobe door would suddenly come loose and threaten to fall on you, or opening one door would inevitably cause another to swing open from the rush of air. Still, I hadn't expected the comfort of a hotel, so this was good enough. In general, things were just as haphazard in hotels and even inside the Olympic Park. The Olympic Park was supposed to be brand-new, yet the walls of the toilets were already crumbling. A friend who stayed at a newly opened hotel told me that there was a bathtub but no plug, making it impossible to soak in it. And if you put money into a vending machine and nothing came out, the response was simply, “That's too bad”... It had been much the same when I visited Sochi for the 2012 Grand Prix Final ("The Real Face of Sochi, the Olympic City"). A funny photo of two toilet bowls in a single cubicle had become a hot topic, but honestly, it was entirely plausible. Still, regardless of how comfortable the place was, this accommodation had one enormous catch. The claim that it was just 200 meters from the Olympic Park was absolutely true. From my room, I could see the Olympic cauldron and Iceberg, the figure skating venue, nearby. With everything so close, I assumed I could pop over whenever I liked. I even thought I might go and watch some hockey or curling whenever I had a bit of free time. But it didn't take long to discover something unbelievable. The only way to reach Iceberg, despite being right nearby, was to enter through the Olympic Park's entrance. And the one and only entrance was a 30-minute walk from here! In other words, every single day, I had to start by walking away from the Olympic cauldron and Iceberg, the very venue I was headed for. I passed through a residential neighbourhood full of stray dogs and cats, walked alongside a vast stretch of vacant land where I had no idea what would eventually be built, and made my way across rough, unmarked ground strewn with large rocks before finally reaching the entrance for accredited personnel. If I could enter there, the journey would be much shorter. But the entrance for ordinary spectators was even farther away. I had to pass Olympic Park station before finally reaching the security checkpoint. On my first day, when I got lost along the way, it took me 40 minutes. Once I got used to the route, it took about 20 minutes. After rain, when my feet sank into the mud, it took 25 minutes. And from the gate to Iceberg, the figure skating venue, it was another 20-minute walk! Every day, I walked roughly two kilometres there and back just to reach a place that was practically right outside my window. So much for “200 meters from the Olympic Park”! I tried taking a shortcut on my way back and managed to sneak through a gap in the fence and exit through the entrance for accredited personnel. But that only worked for the first few days. Before long, ID checks were put in place, and I was told, "You can't leave through here." Well, I suppose that was to be expected from cheap accommodation. The weather was pleasant, so once I got used to it, walking wasn't too much of a hardship. But there was another problem waiting for me at this place. Starting around the day after I arrived, the Wi-Fi connection began to deteriorate until I could no longer browse the internet or send and receive emails. This was a real problem. Back in Japan, the editors were waiting for my articles to arrive. My manuscripts were already late as it was. "I've written it, but I can't send it..." was simply not going to cut it. In desperation, I even resorted to taking photos of my computer screen with my smartphone and sending them my articles, including the one on the first team event. "I really have written it! I just can't send it. I'm so sorry, but could you please transcribe this for me?" I really did cause everyone a great deal of trouble during those first few days. "I'm sorry. It seems the internet provider's entire capacity has been taken up by the Olympics, so even the internet in the main house isn't working. But this isn't our fault," Anastasia explained. Apparently, all the households in the surrounding area were experiencing the same problem. Even so, this was my job, so I had no choice but to grit my teeth and find a way to manage. I walked all over the property, searching every corner, until I finally managed to pick up a weak signal in one corner of the garage, exposed to the wind. For a while, every day and every night, I crouched down in that spot where the firewood was stacked, working alone in the cold. Without that signal, I couldn't send my articles, check the order in which the skaters would perform, or even view the pages I had written for WEBRONZA. Even in Sochi, the nights were cold. Looking back, I could see the Olympic flame blazing brightly nearby, illuminating a lonely journalist. And it was always on nights like these that the shower would suddenly turn cold halfway through.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E3%82%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%83%B3%E3%83%94%E3%83%83%E3%82%AF%EF%BC%94 2014.03.07 Sochi Olympics Report 5 - Yuzuru Hanyu and Asian Skaters Are Redefining the Conventional Wisdom on Jumping The figure skating competition at the Sochi Olympics produced the first Asian men's Olympic champion in history, as well as the first teenage champion in 66 years. The result also signaled a major shift in men's figure skating. In women's figure skating, teenage Olympic champions have been relatively common. They include Oksana Baiul (Ukraine, Lillehammer 1994), Tara Lipinski (USA, Nagano 1998), Sarah Hughes (USA, Salt Lake City 2002), and Yuna Kim (South Korea, Vancouver 2010). Why, then, had there been no teenage champion in men's figure skating for 66 years? The conventional explanation goes something like this. "For girls, jumping is easier when they're teenagers because their bodies are lighter. As they enter puberty and develop more mature female physiques, it becomes harder to maintain the jumping technique they had in their teens. Boys, on the other hand, need the well-developed muscles of an adult body to perform triple Axels and quadruple jumps. It takes a little longer to master high-difficulty jumps and win at the senior level." In other words, by the time female skaters approach their twenties, they have already passed the peak of their jumping ability and begin to struggle against younger skaters who can jump effortlessly. Men, meanwhile, tend to add more jumps to their repertoire as they get older, improve their success rates, and see more skaters become capable of competing at the top of the world rankings. Their peak as athletes also comes later, allowing them to continue developing for at least five years longer than female skaters of the same age. Seen in this light, Yuzuru Hanyu is an extraordinary exception. I remember when he was 14, in 2008. At a Japanese national team training camp, he landed his first triple Axel and rolled around on the ice in delight. Mao Asada was also training at the camp. Although Hanyu was still of junior age, a handful of the most promising junior skaters were allowed to join the senior training camp each year, giving them the chance to practice on the same ice as the top skaters. "A senior training camp... I could skate with all these amazing people! Just thinking about it got me really excited! There were Daisuke Takahashi and Mao-chan... Especially when I watched Mao-chan's triple Axel, I realized that you didn't need that much force. So I tried jumping the Axel while relaxing a little, and I rotated and landed on one foot. I thought, 'Oh, wow, I can do it! I actually did it!' That's how it felt..." (From Figure Skating Japanese Men's Fan Book: Cutting Edge 2009, published in 2008) Kensuke Nakaniwa, runner-up at the 2004 Japanese Championships and now a coach, read Hanyu's interview and was struck by how perceptively the young skater learned through observation. "What keen insight! Exactly! These days, landing a jump is a given. What earns points is how effortlessly and comfortably you can execute it. The same applies to spins, steps, and every other element. In other words, you can't look as though you're trying too hard. To win at the senior level, you have to make your jumps and skating look effortless. Hanyu had already realized this when he was much younger. And he figured it out by watching other skaters. His instinct for skating is truly exceptional." Hanyu had found a clue to mastering the triple Axel by watching Mao Asada. For a moment, I wondered whether he might be a rare male skater whose style was closer to that of a female singles skater. If power-based male skaters such as Alexei Yagudin (Russia), Brian Joubert (France), and Takahito Mura represent one type, Hanyu stands at the opposite end of the spectrum. Rather than relying on brute force, he generates rotations through his sense of rhythm during takeoff and other technical skills. He is the type of skater who makes jumps work through technique. Japan's Nobunari Oda was another technically gifted jumper. His trademark was his light, floating jumps, almost like those of a female skater. Yet he also possessed a certain degree of power that female skaters lacked, allowing him to produce exceptional jumps that were both light and remarkably high. Hanyu belongs to a similar lineage to Oda, but he has also made the most of his light frame, weighing just 53 kilograms. Even as a teenager, he had already made jumps, including the quadruple toe loop, into formidable weapons. That raises one concern about Hanyu's future. If his success at these Olympics followed a pattern more commonly seen in women's skating, might it become increasingly difficult for him to maintain his jumping technique as he gets older? It is also hard to ignore the history of female skaters who achieved success in their teens, reached their peak at that point, and left competitive skating relatively early. As anyone can see, Hanyu does not have a particularly robust physique. He has asthma, has suffered numerous injuries, and has a small appetite. Even before the free skate at these Olympics, his nerves were so bad that he could not swallow the rice ball he usually eats three hours before a competition. He managed to wash down only a little food with miso soup. He went into the competition in the worst possible condition in terms of stamina. Of course, his strengths are not limited to his light frame. Although he looks slender, he has built up his core muscles through off-ice training and developed the physique needed for jumping. Supported by two outstanding physical conditioning specialists, Masashi Aoshima in Toronto and Akira Kikuchi in Sendai, he has also developed a different attitude toward physical conditioning. He is now said to understand the condition of his muscles in minute detail, with knowledge comparable to that of an anatomist. Even so, he will need to take even greater care of his body from now on. His new goal, he says, is to win a second consecutive Olympic gold medal at PyeongChang. If he can maintain both his jumping technique and a healthy body until then, the conventional wisdom in men's singles that "you have to get older to compete at the top level" will be overturned in the truest sense. Another key to this transformation, alongside Hanyu, will be the young Asian skaters who are about to emerge onto the world stage. In fact, skaters of the Hanyu type are becoming increasingly common around the world. One example is China's Boyang Jin, who won the junior title at this season's Grand Prix Final. Despite his small frame, standing just 156 centimeters tall, he successfully landed three quadruple jumps in his free skate. The performance caused a major sensation: at an event where even the senior skaters had managed no more than two quads, a 16-year-old boy had landed three. Remarkably, Jin has also recently landed a quadruple Lutz in practice. He is reportedly preparing a free skate featuring three different types of quadruple jumps. Developments like these are beginning to challenge the notion that male skaters must grow older before they can compete at the highest level. At the Junior Grand Prix Final that Jin won, several other Asian skaters also made their mark, including Nathan Chen (USA), Keiji Tanaka (Japan), and Ryuju Hino (Japan). In fact, Asian skaters have also been making remarkable strides in senior men's singles. At these Olympics, all three medalists were of Asian descent: Hanyu, Patrick Chan of Canada, and Denis Ten of Kazakhstan. The same trend has been evident at the World Championships in recent years. Of the 12 medals awarded over this period, nine went to Asian skaters. Non-Asian medalists other than the Japanese skaters, Chan, and Ten have become increasingly rare. It was around the generation of Miki Ando that people first began to remark on how Asian female skaters were developing longer limbs and physiques increasingly similar to those of their Western counterparts. Now, seven or eight years later, the male physique has also begun to change among the generation younger than Hanyu. When Hanyu first appeared on the scene, people were surprised by his physique, which seemed so unlike that of a typical Japanese boy and almost as if he had stepped out of a shoujo manga. Today, however, many other skaters also have strikingly long limbs. Japanese and Chinese male skaters had long been known for their jumping ability, and Asians were often said to be naturally well suited to the jumping demands of figure skating. It was also said that Asians had a younger physiological age than Westerners and could therefore remain competitive for longer. A new generation of Asian skaters appears to have retained these inherent physical characteristics while developing a new physique with long limbs. Over the next four years, we may witness an era in which they redefine the conventional wisdom about jumping in men's figure skating.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E3%82%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%83%B3%E3%83%94%E3%83%83%E3%82%AF%EF%BC%93 2014.02.19 Sochi Olympics Report 4 - The Arduous Road Ahead for Yuzuru Hanyu. What Will Help Him Overcome It Is His Clear-Eyed Perspective and Depth of Thought In any case, we have witnessed the birth of a teenage Olympic champion, something rarely seen in history. It is said that this is the first teenage champion in 66 years, since Dick Button. Until about ten years ago, Button was a familiar face on American television as a sharp-tongued commentator. He was a man who said whatever he pleased, no matter how harsh, prompting conversations like, “Who is this guy?” followed by, “Apparently, he’s actually quite remarkable …” That very Dick Button! Of course, I have never seen him skate. To think that Hanyu is the first teenage champion since someone like him ... it certainly brings home the magnitude of Hanyu’s achievement. But from here on, Yuzuru Hanyu faces a thorny road. He himself must be the most surprised by, and the most frustrated with, the way he won this time. He knows better than anyone that he did not win with a performance befitting a champion, and he must also know very well what he needs to do from here on. At the next World Championships, or perhaps at the PyeongChang Olympics four years from now, he must deliver a performance worthy of a champion. He must surpass his own performance in Sochi, not someone else’s. At this point, he may have been burdened with something far more difficult than simply defeating other competitors: surpassing himself. As I explained in detail in my previous article, “A New Challenge in the ‘Quadruple Jump Era’ That Began with Yuzuru Hanyu at Its Center,” men’s figure skating has become an almost unbelievable sport, demanding both an array of extraordinarily difficult elements and a level of performance artistry that can stand alongside other art forms without looking inferior. Nevertheless, as athletes, they must strive toward that goal. There is a standard their own sport demands, a destination they must reach. And Yuzuru Hanyu is now in the position to lead the way. Can he really do it? Of course he can! He may be delighted with this gold medal, but he is not the sort of person who would become overconfident and think, “Now I’m an Olympic champion!” I would like to recall something he told me after he first broke the world record for the highest score in the short program at Skate America in the autumn of 2012. “From here on, when I’m around 22 or 23, I’d be happy if I could become the kind of skater who leads everyone else! “Patrick [Chan] and Evgeni Plushenko were those kinds of skaters. They were so incredibly strong that they created a situation in which they swept up all the titles. No one could beat them, and that frustration took root among the men all over the world. Everyone thought, ‘Let’s beat Plushenko,’ ‘Let’s beat Patrick’ ... and they became so much better. That’s how the era changed. “There are always skaters who change their era. That’s why I want to become someone like that. I want to become a skater who is truly worthy of being at the top, someone so deserving of that position that no one would complain even with Patrick or Daisuke Takahashi competing against me.” Around the same time, he was already making predictions about what men’s singles would be like after Sochi: “I think that by then ... we’ll be in an incredible era. There are so many talented skaters around my age who are still juniors. They’re also good at dance, and they haven’t emerged yet because they can’t do quadruple jumps. But once they start jumping them, those of us at the top now might not be able to beat them. “When those skaters of my generation develop their abilities and rise to the top, when I’m no longer running out in front on my own but can run alongside everyone else, I think a new era will arrive, with further advances in quadruple jumps as well.” He understands the achievements of Plushenko, Chan, and the others who competed alongside him in Sochi, and he wants to carry on the role they played. He already has the foresight to see where the sport is heading, and he understands both the severity of the challenges ahead and what he himself must do. He is not merely a strong athlete. What distinguishes Japan’s Olympic champion, Yuzuru Hanyu, is his clear-eyed perspective and depth of thought. With him, we can confidently entrust the future of the sport. And yet ... he really did win the Olympics. “Olympic champion! Yuzuru Hanyu!” When that announcement rang through the arena, I felt so incredulous that I almost wanted to laugh. Yuzuru-kun really, truly is the Olympic champion? From that moment on, whenever I spoke to people from other countries at Olympic Park or around the city of Sochi, I invariably heard: “You’re from Japan? Congratulations, Hanyu!” The women would recall him dreamily, saying, “How can I describe him? He was just wonderful!” Even the burly men would give him a thumbs-up and praise him: “A great champion!” Who would have thought that Yuzuru-kun, with his mushroom-shaped haircut, would make me feel so proud to be Japanese, time and again, in the faraway city of Sochi? Who would have thought he would make us feel so proud? That mushroom-shaped haircut reminds me of six years ago, when I first interviewed him one-on-one. When I asked him about his future goal, this was his answer: “First place at the Olympics!” Not a gold medal, not victory, not becoming a champion, but simply “first place!” I thought it was adorable that he put it that way. Apart from that, his answer was no different from what I had heard from countless other boys over the years. But thinking back, this was the first time I had been allowed to witness a boy’s dream truly come true. As the flower ceremony progressed to the medal ceremony, I found myself deeply moved by the realization that a Japanese man had finally reached the pinnacle of Olympic figure skating. During the flower ceremony, Hanyu bowed deeply to the applauding spectators. He then bowed just as deeply, again and again, to his coach, Brian Orser, who was waiting rinkside. In a manner so characteristically Japanese, he expressed his gratitude to so many people. Gratitude. Before the season began, when I asked him about the secret to his mental strength, he told me it was “the desire to respond to everyone’s support.” “Skating is a sport that you absolutely cannot do on your own. So many people, starting with my family, support my skating and cheer me on, all for someone like me. Of course, that support can sometimes become a source of pressure. But first, rather than thinking of it as a burden, I accept everyone’s support and expectations. I’m grateful for them. And then I think, ‘I have to work even harder!’ If there is something like that within me, perhaps it is part of what makes me strong.” Gratitude. Watching him overcome the pressure and claim victory with that characteristically Japanese sense of courtesy, I thought about all this as I watched him bow deeply. The road ahead will be arduous. He now carries a cross that no one has been made to bear for 66 years, and he must walk a difficult path that no one has walked before. But for now, let us simply say, congratulations. After everything that happened, Yuzuru Hanyu was, after all, stronger than anyone else. I truly look forward to the next four years of your journey.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E3%82%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%83%B3%E3%83%94%E3%83%83%E3%82%AF%EF%BC%93 2014.02.18 Sochi Olympics Report 3 - A New Challenge in the “Quadruple Jump Era” That Began with Yuzuru Hanyu at Its Center Many people felt that the men’s singles free skate at the Sochi Olympics lacked excitement as a competition, with numerous mistakes, particularly among the top two skaters, and one skater after another falling on their quadruple jumps. Certainly, looking back at the men’s singles event, mistakes had been conspicuous from the short program onward, and falls on quadruple jumps had been more frequent than usual. To be honest, since the Olympics are held only once every four years, I had wanted to see a spectacular competition in which one perfect performance followed another. Some tried to find reasons for the succession of mistakes, suggesting that the competition’s late start time might have been a factor or that the quality of the ice might have been different from usual. But I kept wondering whether the problem stemmed from the very nature of men’s singles figure skating itself. Think about it. This was actually the first Olympics at which skaters were expected to land quadruple jumps, achieve Level 4 on all the other elements, and have their performance skills and skating quality scrutinized in detail through the program component scores. Four years ago, the champion made headlines for not attempting a quadruple jump. Eight years ago, the new judging system had only just been introduced, and it had yet to mature. Never before had skaters been expected to do it all: execute the jumps they do today, perform steps and spins at the highest level, captivate audiences with their performances, and meet all these demands at once. Even so, at competitions such as the Grand Prix Series, the Four Continents Championships, and the World Championships, we had been able to see several near-perfect performances that fulfilled all these complex requirements. This season, Patrick Chan of Canada in the free skate at Trophée Éric Bompard, Daisuke Takahashi at the NHK Trophy, and Tatsuki Machida at Skate America all delivered performances we would have loved to see again at the Olympics. However, when the extraordinary tension of the Olympic stage is added to the already demanding requirement to perform every element at a high level, even top skaters who would normally be expected to make few mistakes can end up like this. That was the Sochi Olympics. The harshness of the new judging system combined with the quadruple jump era becomes even clearer when we compare the men’s and women’s singles events. In women’s skating today, few skaters attempt quadruple jumps or triple Axels. Triple-triple combinations are the mainstay of their jump layouts. Since their programs are built around jumps they can execute with a high degree of consistency, clean performances naturally tend to be more common. As a good example, let’s recall this season’s Japanese National Championships. Some people commented, “The men’s competition was incredible, but there were still so many mistakes. By comparison, the women really are strong. Weren’t they all clean?” But that is hardly fair to the men. The men and women fought just as hard under the same level of tension. The difference was simply that the women’s jump layouts made perfect performances more attainable. At the Olympics, too, we would likely see many clean programs in the women’s singles, with skaters executing their triple-triple combinations reliably. So, what about the quadruple jump race, which intensified over the four years from Vancouver to Sochi? Will this trend be curbed? Will the men begin to avoid some of the most difficult jumps and move toward a more stable kind of beauty? I think not. The reason is that this quadruple jump era was chosen by none other than the skaters themselves. What remains vividly in my memory are the words of Takahiko Kozuka exactly four years ago. He said this in an interview at Japan House in Vancouver, a few days after finishing his free skate at the Vancouver Olympics. “Evan [Lysacek of the United States] became champion without attempting a quadruple jump, but ... I think the quadruple jump era will actually begin from here. I can already feel that atmosphere among the skaters. Even after the competition, when I’m skating at Eight Rinks, the Vancouver Olympic practice rink, everyone is jumping quadruples one after another, as if competing with each other. Even skaters who didn’t attempt them in the actual competition! Even Johnny [Weir of the United States] is jumping them again and again!” And so, just as Kozuka had predicted, the quadruple jump era began. Without saying a word, the skaters rejected the idea that someone could become Olympic champion without landing a quadruple jump. In men’s figure skating, a quadruple jump was necessary to become champion. That was a choice the skaters themselves had made. As a result, at the Sochi Olympics, the top skaters attempted two or even three quadruple jumps. Yet in this competition, most were unable to land the jumps they had set out to perform perfectly. Although they were ranked first, second, and third among themselves, they had all, in their own way, been defeated by the very nature of the sport they had chosen. Hanyu, Chan, and Machida must all be frustrated. Surely, they cannot let things end here, having been defeated. Fortunately, the man who became Olympic champion is only 19 years old. He is young enough to continue taking on challenges through the PyeongChang Olympics four years from now and beyond. With him at the center, these skaters will continue to challenge themselves with quadruple jumps under the new judging system. It would be fair to say that the Sochi Olympics marked the true beginning of the battle between the skaters and the demands of their sport. Four years from now, will we see perfect performances incorporating quadruple jumps, again and again? Will we witness such a victory for the skaters?

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E3%82%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%83%B3%E3%83%94%E3%83%83%E3%82%AF%EF%BC%92 2014.02.10 Sochi Olympics Report 2 - What Did Yuzuru Hanyu Gain from His Showdown with Plushenko? The Unexpected Impact of the Team Event Even so, Yuzuru Hanyu and Evgeni Plushenko (Russia). 19 years old and 31 years old. Their showdowns in both the team and individual competitions looked set to become part of figure skating history. As you know, watching Plushenko face off against Alexei Yagudin (Russia) at the Salt Lake City Olympics intensified Hanyu’s longing to compete in the Olympics. There is no shortage of anecdotes about him: how he copied Plushenko’s hairstyle as a child and was nicknamed “Yuzu-shenko,” and how, after winning a local competition, he would proudly hold up his trophy toward the audience, just as Plushenko did. Then, in 2010, Hanyu became the World Junior champion, and he had more opportunities to meet his idol at ice shows. “During practice, Plushenko-san taught me the Biellmann spin!” “He even told me, ‘Beat me!’” “When he was teaching me all sorts of things, his wife started getting angry. She said, ‘Don’t teach that kid anything else!’ (laughs)” Whenever I heard him recount these stories so excitedly, I never imagined that the two would face each other for the first time at the Olympics, in this way. For two people more than ten years apart in age to meet on the same competitive stage, the older one must remain at the top level for an exceptionally long time, while the younger one must develop faster than anyone else and rise to that same stage. Two superstars from different generations had both overcome these extraordinary challenges, and their first showdown finally took place in the first-ever team event in Olympic history. Who could have predicted such a dramatic turn of events from the sight of a boy excitedly exclaiming, “He even taught me the Biellmann!”? In their first head-to-head encounter, in the team event, Hanyu outscored his idol with the depth, smoothness, and speed of his skating, which he had developed over the past few years, as well as elements meticulously constructed to earn high scores under the current judging system. I had the same impression at the Vancouver Olympics four years earlier, but because Plushenko competes less frequently, he seems to fall a little short when it comes to fine-tuning the details of his strategy for maximizing his score. However, Hanyu himself must understand that figure skating is about more than that. Although he won on points, Plushenko was clearly superior to him in terms of presence, aura, and the magnetic ability to captivate the audience. It was not simply because they were performing in front of a Russian audience. Even if the two had performed today’s routines at an ice show in Japan, Plushenko would probably have received more applause. Hanyu himself is well aware of the importance of qualities that do not show up in the element scores. When he performed in ice shows alongside not only Plushenko but also other legendary stars such as Philippe Candeloro (France), he was deeply moved, yet also frustrated. “They really are different. They only do a double Axel for their jumps, but watching them makes me want to cry...” He probably felt the same way this time. Although he had won the contest, Plushenko had shown him something he himself still lacked. And he must have been deeply frustrated by that. So, in their next encounter, the men’s individual event on February 14 and 15, beginning with the short program, how will Hanyu process what he gained from their first showdown and approach the rematch? I find myself looking forward to seeing Yuzuru Hanyu take to the ice again even more than before. The team event had a greater impact on Hanyu than anyone might have expected. And it seems that this new Olympic discipline, the figure skating team event, may have an unexpected influence on these Games as a whole, not just on Hanyu. Normally, figure skating is all about the individual competition, with a short program and a free skate determining the outcome. The athletes may only now be beginning to appreciate how unusual it is to have a team competition before the individual event. The atmosphere in the arena had yet to catch fire. Then, all of a sudden, familiar faces appeared in abundance, including world champions such as Mao Asada, Brian Joubert (France), and Davis and White (USA), cheering on the competitors. There was something strangely charming about the sight. Hanyu was somewhat younger than the other members of the Japanese team, and there had been concerns about whether he would fit in. Having delivered this performance with his senior teammates cheering him on may have helped him find his place within the team in a positive way. (Come to think of it, he had never competed in either the World Team Trophy or the Japan Open. His home prefecture of Miyagi lacked enough skaters to form a team, so he had never even experienced the National Sports Festival. This was virtually his first team competition.) Then there is American skater Jeremy Abbott, who made two jumping errors in a disastrous performance of the same program with which he had delivered a magnificent performance at the U.S. Championships. How will a skater like him bounce back in the individual competition? I am very concerned about the psychological impact. And what about Canada’s Meagan Duhamel and Eric Radford, who had already delivered a magnificent performance in the team competition, elevating warm, tender lyricism to the highest level? Will they be able to reproduce that same performance in the individual competition, or not? Germany’s pair, Aliona Savchenko and Robin Szolkowy, chose to skip the team competition in order to focus on the individual event, while Russia’s pair, Tatiana Volosozhar and Maxim Trankov, had already delivered a full-throttle performance in the team competition. Both pairs are strong contenders for the gold medal, and there will be great interest in how their different approaches to the team competition affect their performances in the individual event. There will also be an impact on viewers. People who would not normally tune in to watch pairs or ice dance may have followed the team competition because of the medal race, and in doing so, watched disciplines beyond the singles events. If these viewers discover the appeal of pairs and ice dance through the team competition, interest in those disciplines during the individual event may increase considerably. The team competition had seemed likely to become little more than a trial run before the main event, perhaps even a glorified exhibition. But with the host nation, Russia, winning gold, public interest at the venue surged almost immediately. Of course, the emergence of champions in the men’s, women’s, and pairs events was significant in itself. Yet the excitement of competing for one’s country, and winning that contest, had suddenly swept through Russia. Could adding just one event change the entire character of a competition so dramatically? Figure skating at the Sochi Olympics looks set to become an Olympics unlike any before it, one the world has never seen before.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E3%82%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%83%B3%E3%83%94%E3%83%83%E3%82%AF%EF%BC%91 2014.02.08 Sochi Olympics Report 1 - A Perfect Team Event. Did Champion Plushenko Ignite a Fire in Yuzuru Hanyu? Before the figure skating team event began, the atmosphere at Iceberg, the competition venue, was far from what you would call “Olympic!” The venue itself was beautifully decorated, with light blue as its dominant color, looking considerably more stylish than it had when the Grand Prix Final was held there a little over a year earlier. It wasn't flashy, nor did it strongly emphasize the venue's own character, but it seemed like the kind of rink that would give the skaters positive energy. The people gathered there, however, including spectators, competition officials, volunteers, and journalists, still seemed unaccustomed to the Olympic atmosphere. The unique excitement of the Olympics, radiating from everyone, was somehow missing. The feeling of “We've waited so long for this! It's finally starting! Who's going to win?” just wasn't there yet. It was still before the opening ceremony, of course, and the event itself was a new discipline that nobody quite knew what to expect from: the team event. Since nobody knew what place it would occupy in the overall Olympic picture until they had actually seen it in action, the mood seemed to be something along the lines of, “But this is the Olympics, after all, isn't it...?” The attendance was disappointing to begin with. The venue, with a capacity of 14,000, was by no means particularly large. Although the second-tier seats were almost full, perhaps a third of the first-tier seats were empty. The audience was almost entirely Russian, and the large contingents of American and Canadian supporters who always turned up for major figure skating competitions were nowhere to be seen. For figure skating, supposedly one of the most popular events at the Winter Olympics, this was quite a surprise... “Foreign spectators will probably flock here for the individual men's and women's events. If they came to watch the team event as well, their stay would become far too long, so it seems many have decided to give it a miss. That's why most of the people who bought tickets for today's event are local Russians. The first-tier seats are prohibitively expensive, so it seems almost everyone opted for the second tier instead.” That was the explanation offered by someone from an American travel agency. Certainly, the section allocated to Japanese spectators also had a noticeable number of empty seats, which made the atmosphere feel a little subdued. At figure skating competitions, the arena can still feel as though it hasn't “warmed up” while the lower-ranked skaters are performing. But today, it felt as though the Olympics themselves hadn't “warmed up” yet... The competition also got off to an uneventful start, with the performances of male skaters from countries such as Great Britain and Ukraine. “This doesn't feel like the Olympics at all. It's not much different from an ordinary competition, is it?” At the beginning of the event, that was probably what everyone was thinking. But there was one man who single-handedly transformed the atmosphere into something unmistakably Olympic. Needless to say, it was Russia's men's representative, Evgeni Plushenko. Even when he appeared for the six-minute warm-up, the spectators erupted with delight, and chants of “Russia!” broke out. But when it came time for his actual performance, something different happened. As people sensed something about the aura he carried with him, they were drawn in and swept up in the excitement. He maintained the tension beautifully while exuding the effortless poise of a champion. In response to the deafening cheers, he gestured as though thumping his chest, as if to say, “Leave it to me!” He appeared at Iceberg, where there had been almost no sense of the Olympics at all, and, through his presence alone, instantly transformed the place into a venue charged with the atmosphere of a momentous contest that would determine the medals... Plushenko was accustomed to being the main character, whether at the Olympics or the World Championships. But this was the first time I had witnessed the extent of his power to single-handedly transform the atmosphere into something truly Olympic! It was precisely because this was the team event, with its uncertain atmosphere, rather than the individual competition, where the audience would already be buzzing with excitement, that we could witness the power of Plushenko's very presence. “Now that we've seen this, I think he was the one who deserved to be chosen for this Olympic festival. No other skater could possibly do something like this.” Someone murmured those words, almost in awe. The twists and turns of the Russian selection process had probably affected Plushenko himself as well. There had been strong voices, not only in Russia but also abroad, arguing that younger skaters deserved to be selected instead, such as Maxim Kovtun, who had won the Russian Championships, and Sergei Voronov, who had finished ahead of Kovtun at the European Championships. Whether or not he felt the pressure of having to deliver results here after being selected, Plushenko gave off an aura that seemed to declare, “Who else but me belongs here?” And what he delivered was an astonishing short program that began with an effortlessly landed quadruple jump! He got off to a confident start, sent the audience into an uproar with a blown kiss toward the stands, and whipped the crowd into a frenzy with his performance. It was a roaring two minutes and forty seconds, with the engine running at full throttle from the very beginning. He was in his 30s, yet he looked far younger and more energetic than he had in the ice shows I had seen him perform in recent years. The spectators' chants were no longer “Russia!” They had become “Zhenya! Zhenya!” (Evgeni's nickname). A swirling chorus of voices called out the name of one individual, something people in this country rarely did. By this point, everyone was so overwhelmed that they could not help thinking: Was the Sochi Olympics, after all, Plushenko's Olympics? With so few foreign spectators in attendance that day, the competition was an unusually hostile environment for skaters from countries other than Russia. The “skating fans” who would normally applaud skaters from every country warmly, regardless of their performances, had yet to arrive. The audience was particularly cold toward the male skaters who were Plushenko's rivals. No matter how well they performed, the crowd simply did not erupt with anything like the enthusiasm it had shown for its own hero. The Canadian Patrick Chan was probably the one who felt that hostility most acutely. He put too much power into his troublesome triple Axel and stepped out of the landing, which was a costly mistake. But even more striking were the quality of his skating, his speed, and, above all, the way he seemed unable to immerse himself in the music. Every aspect of Patrick's usual strengths seemed to have disappeared into the shadows. I had never seen him give a performance like this. He seemed to have been swallowed up not so much by the Olympic atmosphere itself as by the “Olympics that Plushenko had created.” So how did our own Japanese representative fare? Yuzuru Hanyu was the first skater to compete for the Japanese team. Before the event, I had felt that the team competition was extremely important for him. Regardless of whether they won a medal, experiencing the Olympics through the team event would mean a great deal to young skaters making their first Olympic appearance. Whether things went well or badly, once the team event was over, they would be freed from the burden of being “first-time Olympians.” Furthermore, I had hoped that if things went well for him here, he might get carried away in the best possible way, thinking, “Hey, I can do this!” and “The Olympics aren't so scary after all!” Knowing him, he might ride that momentum straight into the individual competition. But the man standing in his way today was not Chan, his rival over the past few years. It was Plushenko, along with the Olympic atmosphere he had created and the Russian spectators who had embraced it. The venue fell completely silent, and the atmosphere was anything but welcoming toward Hanyu. He had been thrown into a strange environment charged with the sentiment, “‘If we can beat this guy, then Zhenya will be number one!” Could he really pull it off in a place like this…? Terrifyingly enough, he could. That's Yuzuru Hanyu. His expression was tense, but his movements were sharp. He slipped smoothly into the world of his familiar “Parisienne Walkways.” His light, soaring quadruple jump and triple Axel were both magnificent, but what was truly remarkable was how composed he remained in a competition like this. Right down to his camel spin, donut spin, and even the simplest movements, he executed everything with polished, refined control. It was his first Olympic performance, and he had shown everything he was capable of at that moment, with an ease that was almost startling. He had made it look effortless, yet he had delivered with complete certainty. All I could do was praise him wholeheartedly: “Well done!” This was the first team event in Olympic history, and at just 19, he had been entrusted with the enormous responsibility of leading the way for his team. And he had done so in a completely hostile environment! His mission was accomplished, almost perfectly. Normally, when looking at a 19-year-old, I might have felt like patting him on the head. But somehow, that no longer seemed appropriate for him. Perhaps there had never been any need to worry about this young man in the first place. “The closer I get to a major competition, the happier I become, until I can't stop laughing.” Before his senior debut, when he was just 15, he had said those words so innocently. Now, they sounded almost devilish. He was a man who loved competition, and the bigger the stage and the greater the pressure, the stronger he became, to a maddening degree. Could it be that Plushenko himself, along with the Russian spectators, had been nothing more than the fuel that ignited Hanyu's fire?

Machine translation from Japanese to English, inaccuracies exist [P. 44-53] Exclusive Interview I want to keep pursuing the present state of things and continue gathering the elements that will allow me to evolve. Text by Yumeko Yamamoto Photos by Toru Yaguchi During the photo shoot, Yuzuru Hanyu was searching for four-leaf clovers and smiling as he said that being out in nature made him feel as though he was “photosynthesizing.” But by the time of the interview in mid-June, he had already begun working on ICE STORY 4th. We spoke with him about the whirlwind of days following his maintenance period, and about what lies ahead, as he looks toward the future. Spoiler -Collapse to display content NOTES [1] Tiziano Vecellio, known in English as Titian, called his famous series of mythological paintings poesie ("poetry in paint"), meaning that his brushwork aimed to produce the same emotional and sensory impact as written verse. More information. [2] 朗読 evokes the act of conveying words or a text through the voice, even though skating has no spoken words.

Machine translation from Japanese to English, inaccuracies exist [P. 43] In Search of an Unseen Clover: Yuzuru Hanyu Through the Viewfinder Spoiler -Collapse to display content

Figure Skating Life Extra "Yuzuru Hanyu PROFESSIONAL Season 4" (Fusosha Mook) Release: October 28, 2026 112 Pages More information on the different editions: https://prtimes.jp/main/html/rd/p/000001784.000026633.html Printed and digital copies available on Amazon Japan: Regular Edition Amazon Special Edition How to create an Amazon Japan account to buy e-books and e-magazines: HERE CONTENT (In blue: translated sections, work in progress) Special Photo Shoot 1 – Yuzuru Hanyu Photos & Column by Toru Yaguchi In Search of an Unseen Clover: Yuzuru Hanyu Through the Viewfinder Exclusive Interview 44 – Continuing to Pursue the Present: Gathering the Elements for Further Evolution 54 – Yuzuru Hanyu "notte stellata 2026" Interview Expressing a Life Lived with Strength, While Embracing Every Scar Report Moving Forward, One Step at a Time, While Carrying the Memories of the Disaster 64 – Yuzuru Hanyu "An Ice Story Project: REALIVE" Report Evidence of Yuzuru Hanyu’s Current Evolution and a Gateway to What Lies Ahead Fumo-Fumo Column A Journey of "Reincarnation": Discovering the Colors of the World, Descending into Black, and Returning to White — "prequel: Before the WHITE" Interview 76 – Marihiko Hara: How Meeting Yuzuru Hanyu Inspired My Music Special 82 – Yuzuru Hanyu × Yuzu: A Song Commemorating the Disaster — "Ikue" (Layers) Interview 83 – Yuzuru Hanyu: With a Prayer for a Brighter Future 88 – Yuzu: The Beauty of the Sound of Blades on Ice—Experienced Only by Being Right There Exhibition 96 – Couture on Ice Report & Interview: Satomi Ito Feature 104 – au Yuzuru Hanyu "HANEW EXPERIENCE”

These photos are from Figure Skating Life Extra - Professional Season 4. Yuzu looks amazing! 😍🥰😍

I did a copy-paste and added a few things. My comments are in bold. When he was two years old, he has been diagnosed with asthma. Sprained ankle when he was 7 years old. His father carried him in his arms into the medical studio of Akira Kikuchi, whom he met for the first time on this occasion. Autumn 2007: Injury at his neck (we know no more details). In this period he won gold at the Novice A National Championship and bronze at the Junior National Championship. February 2009: He aims to reclaim the two spots for Japan at the World Junior Championships, which means he must place in the top 10. He extends his training sessions and ends up with a back injury. A week before the competition, he is unable to land even a 1A. He finished 12th (it should be noted that 4 of the skaters who placed ahead of him had already competed in Grand Prix events or at least one senior ISU Championship, but they chose to participate in this competition to earn international ranking points, given that the following season would be an Olympic season). December 2009, GPF, gold medal An injury at the back forced him to reduce training sessions some time before the competition. December 2009, National Championship (senior), 6th place The back pain continues to be felt, so much so that in training he avoids the Biellmann position. March 11, 2011 Earthquake Not exactly an injury, but it had a very strong psychological impact, and for several days he also experienced significant physical discomfort. We know that between the end of April and the beginning of May, when the WC took place, he had not yet regained his 4T. He also lost the ice rink for the second time, having already lost it once before in December 2004. 2011.11, Rostelecom Cup (Grand Prix of Russia), Gold Medal Injured his hip during the official practice before the competition and competed with it taped up. [It was Kikuchi who recounted the episode in his book in 2019. Kikuchi too was in Russia at the time, and even with the care provided by the Japanese team doctor, Yuzu found it painful just to walk. Yuzu absolutely had to win this competition in order to qualify for the GPF.] December 2011, GPF, 4th place During the commentary for Eurosport, at the start of the short program, Max Ambesi mentioned that he had "an ankle problem." 2012.03, World Championships in Nice, France, Bronze Medal Injured his right ankle before the free skate and competed after receiving a painkilling injection. A post-competition examination confirmed an avulsion fracture. [Correction: he sprained his ankle before the Short Program, not before the Free Skate. This is the reason why he decided to change his layout and to do the combination after the 4T, at the start of the program, instead that after the 3Lz, at the end of the program, when he was already tired. I knew nothing about the subsequent diagnosis of a fracture.] Summer 2012 During a night training session while staying in Sendai—with Orser away in Canada—he fell and sprained his ankle. 2012.10, Finlandia Trophy, Gold Medal In the first season after moving to Canada for training, Yuzuru Hanyu developed a high fever before the competition. Without sufficient pre-competition training, he made his season debut at the Finlandia Trophy (as described in Blue Flame II). During the free skate, he suffered an asthma attack and collapsed onto the ice immediately after finishing, gasping for breath. [During this period, his asthma worsened because he had to adapt to a climate different from the one he was used to. Furthermore, while it was normal to wear a mask in Japan for protection against dust and pollen, that was not the case in Canada; people would stare at him, so for a while, he stopped wearing one.] 2012.12, Grand Prix Final, Silver Medal He was in seriously poor health due to food poisoning, suffering from vomiting and diarrhea. He withdrew from the gala after the opening performance. 2012.12, All-Japan Championships, Gold Medal He competed before he had fully recovered his health (*Blue Flame II*; the documentary Time of Awakening). 2013.02, Four Continents Championships, Silver Medal During the long program, he was affected by a minor injury to his right eyelid sustained before the competition. According to reports, he was jostled by people crowding around him at the hotel and hit the hotel glass. Had this injury not occurred, he would have become a Super Grand Slam champion at just 19 years old in 2014. 2013.03, World Championships in Canada, 4th Place He contracted influenza before the World Championships and was unable to train for about 10 days because of a high fever. He returned to the ice at the end of February, with only two weeks remaining before the World Championships. After resuming on-ice training in late February 2013, he injured his left knee and had to stop training for another week (*Blue Flame II*). During the second half of the 2012–13 season, he not only suffered frequent injuries but also fell ill often (*Time of Awakening*). During the official practice on the morning of the free skate at the March 2013 World Championships, he injured his right ankle again (*Blue Flame II*). This was one of only two times in his senior career that he failed to reach the podium at an international competition. His left knee was at Stage III of patellar tendinitis. Despite everything, he fought to secure three Olympic spots for Japan at Sochi. The other two Japanese skaters finished sixth and eighth. [Correction regarding the result: this is the only World Championship in which he did not reach the podium, but throughout his senior career, he has missed the podium in 7 individual international competitions.] In the summer of 2013, the JSF reached a sponsorship agreement with Ajinomoto, which included the support of a nutritionist for its top athletes. Upon discovering that Hanyu had a digestive issue, Hidefumi Kurihara devised a targeted diet to help him resolve the problem. February 2014, Olympic Games, gold medal Some time before the competition, he experienced back problems, but we don't know the details. 2014.03, World Championships in Saitama, Japan, Gold Medal After the Olympics, he developed tonsillitis and a fever and was unable to train (*Blue Flame II*). Before the World Championships, he sprained his back and injured his right knee (documentary Covered in Scars Behind the Smile). Despite this, he achieved the Grand Slam title in a single season, a feat accomplished by only two skaters in history. [The physical issues led him to miss two of the official practices.] 2014.09, Finlandia Trophy, Withdrew Diagnosed with lumbar myofascial fasciitis, he withdrew and underwent treatment and a month of rest (*Blue Flame II*). [He also has trouble with one of his ankles. In an attempt to avoid putting strain on the painful areas, he moves a bit differently than usual. This causes him pain in other parts of his body.] 2014.11, Cup of China in Shanghai, China, Silver Medal The collision accident. He sustained contusions to the head, jaw, and abdomen, a contusion to the left thigh, and a crush injury to the right ankle joint. Full recovery was expected to take two to three weeks. [While almost all of the physical issues occurred either during the collision with Han Yan or the subsequent impact with the ice, the ankle sprain happened when he fell for the fourth time, on an underrotated 3Lo.] 2014.11, NHK Trophy in Japan, 4th Place He competed less than three weeks after resting following the collision accident. December 2014, GPF, gold medal He has begun performing the Biellmann spin again—a move that was still absent from his programs at the NHK Trophy because he was not healed yet—but already after the short program, he has started to feel some stomach pain. 2014.12, All-Japan Championships, Gold Medal Despite his asthma and a urachal remnant condition that caused pus and bleeding around the navel, he competed with the area wrapped in bandages. He underwent surgery immediately after the competition. Experienced alcohol allergy during surgery, and antibiotic allergy after surgery (*Blue Flame II*). February 2015 When he starts training again after the surgery, he falls and sprains his right ankle. 2015.03, World Championships in Shanghai, China, Silver Medal Following surgery for the urachal remnant condition, the surgical sutures failed to dissolve, causing the wound to become inflamed and infected with pus. The pain was so severe that he could not turn over in bed while sleeping (*Blue Flame II*). He underwent a second operation after the competition. 2015.04, World Team Trophy (WTT) in Japan, Team Bronze Despite being in so much pain that even bending forward or backward was extremely difficult, he competed in the World Team Trophy (*Blue Flame II*). 2015.10, Left foot injury (*Blue Flame II*) He struggled with a left foot injury throughout the entire season. 2015.10, Skate Canada, Silver Medal His asthma worsened two days before the competition. In addition to coughing and other asthma symptoms, he developed a fever above 38°C. 2015.11, NHK Trophy in Japan, Gold Medal He suffered an asthma attack. He scored 106.33 in the short program, 216.07 in the free skate, and 322.40 overall, breaking the world record in all three categories. This was the first time he ascended to legendary status. 2015.12, Grand Prix Final, Gold Medal He had a ligament injury and continued to apply emergency ice packs before the competition. In the end, he broke all three world records once again, scoring 110.95 in the short program, 219.48 in the free skate, and 330.43 overall, once again cementing his legendary status. [He also had a cold.] January 2016 The pain in his left foot is so intense that he has to take painkillers in order to perform in the planned Winter shows. During training, his quadruple jumps disappear, and he falls on his triple Axel. To alleviate the pain, he turns his ankle outward when walking, which causes him pain in other parts of his body. 2016.03, World Championships in Boston, USA, Silver Medal He had a ligament injury in his left foot and was unable even to put on his skating boot. His hotel room door would not open, so he missed the shuttle bus to official practice. The zipper on his Seimei costume broke, along with many other mishaps. It was a World Championships he would probably rather not look back on. Nevertheless, he delivered an outstanding short program, scoring 110.56, just 0.39 points below the world record at the time. (he also set a world record in the short program) [Correction: The problem with the costume occurred before the short program. There were also some tense moments with Denis Ten]. 2016–2017 Season The ligament injury on the top of his left foot from the previous season had not fully healed and affected him throughout the entire season (*Blue Flame II*). [Before the Autumn Classic International in September, he experienced back pain—linked to the unusual movements he made to protect his left foot—as well as ankle trouble. In competition, he avoids the Biellmann spin] 2016.12, Grand Prix Final, Gold Medal He experienced gastrointestinal discomfort before the free skate. (This was revealed by someone connected to the event on Twitter; Japanese media did not report it.) [Oh! I knew nothing about this.] 2016.12, All-Japan Championships, Withdrew He contracted influenza accompanied by pharyngitis before the competition, and his high fever would not subside, forcing him to withdraw. February 2017, Four Continents Championships, silver medal He was experiencing back pain. Both during the FS and the gala, in his "Notte stellata" performance, he replaced the Biellmann spin with an A-spin, and in the gala he also replaced the triple Axel with a poorly executed triple toe loop. 2017.03, World Championships in Helsinki, Finland, Gold Medal He suffered from asthma in the two weeks leading up to the competition and had another asthma attack during official practice on the second day. His free skate score of 223.20 once again broke the world record he himself held. 2017.09, Autumn Classic International in Canada, Silver Medal His knee injury was severe. For the short program, Seimei, he temporarily lowered the planned difficulty, changing the layout from 4Lo, 3A, 4T+3T to 4S, 3A, 4T+3T. Nevertheless, he scored an impressive 112.72, breaking the world record. To this day, it remains the highest short program score under both the old and new scoring systems. 2017.11, NHK Trophy in Japan, Withdrew He had a high fever and was unable to walk in a straight line. Despite not having recovered, he took part in official practice. While practicing the 4Lz, he injured the ligaments in his right ankle upon landing (*NHK documentary*). 2018.02, PyeongChang Winter Olympics, Gold Medal The ligament injury in his right ankle had not healed. He took large amounts of painkillers to compete and became the first men's singles skater in 66 years to win back-to-back Olympic titles. 2018.11, Rostelecom Cup (Grand Prix of Russia), Gold Medal He fell while practicing the 4Lo during official practice. The ligament injury in his right ankle recurred, accompanied by an injury to the deltoid ligament and an injury to the peroneal tendons in his right ankle. He stood on the medal podium using crutches. 2019.03, World Championships in Saitama, Japan, Silver Medal Residual pain and inflammation in his ankle joint remained. He still needed two to three months of rest to recover. May 2019, Fantasy on Ice Tour He take part in the tour after a 10-day, forced break from training, with his left ankle not yet fully recovered from a sprain and a swollen hand—the result of a fall while attempting quintuple jumps in an effort to increase the scale of his jumps and land the 4A. December 2019, GPF; Silver medal If we want to list all the serious issues—not just the injuries—he competed without his coach until the evening before the free skate program, because during a flight connection in Germany, Ghislain Briand had his wallet, containing his passport, stolen; Briand then had to return to Canada to get a replacement. And on at least three occasions, he encountered flight-related issues that caused him to arrive in the host city a day later than planned: at 2012 Skate America (a lengthy customs check caused him to miss his flight), at the 2013 Grand Prix Final (due to air traffic issues), and at the 2021 World Championships (an earthquake led to the suspension of Shinkansen train services, including the one he had booked to reach Tokyo’s airport; by the time he arrived at the airport, his plane had already departed). 2019.12, All-Japan Championships, Silver Medal Possible asthma (though there is no concrete evidence. This was the only competition in which he wore a heart-rate monitor). Due to the competition schedule, he traveled from Canada to Italy, then back to Canada, and from Canada to Japan within five weeks. Unable to adjust to the time differences and facing a graduation thesis deadline, he developed a mild loss of appetite and reached a state of physical exhaustion. [For sure he was jet-lagged.] September (or perhaps October) 2020 Intense training on the 4A leads to periostitis, and all the quadruple jumps vanish. 2021.03, World Championships in Stockholm, Sweden, Bronze Medal He suffered a sudden asthma attack before the free skate, to the point that he was at risk of suffocation. 2021.04, World Team Trophy in Nagano, Japan, Team Bronze He experienced gastrointestinal discomfort and diarrhea. [Due to the quarantines imposed by competition organizers and governments, he had to adapt to food different from what his nutritionist had prescribed, and this caused him problems. During the official practice sessions for the gala, he repeatedly attempts the 4A and injures his right knee. When he shows it to Yuka Sato during the Stars on Ice tour, she is taken aback—and she was right to be: that knee was a sight to behold.] Summer 2021 training the 4A, he sprained his right ankle. 2021.11, NHK Trophy in Japan, Withdrew Two weeks before the competition, he sprained his right ankle while practicing the 4A and withdrew from the event. He subsequently developed esophagitis and a fever (*All-Japan Championships interview). [He withdrew also from the Rostelecom Cup.] 2021.12, All-Japan Championships, Gold Medal He competed after taking painkillers. During official practice, he did three 4A attempts. In the actual competition, he landed the 4A on two feet, while the rest of his performance was flawless. 2022.02, Beijing Winter Olympics, 4th Place During official practice before the free skate, he sprained his right ankle while practicing the 4A. Despite the injury, he competed in the free skate. He fell on the 4A and 4S. In the second half, however, he executed two quadruple jump combinations and two triple Axels perfectly. He took seven painkillers before the exhibition gala but still insisted on performing, presenting skating fans with the beautiful and ethereal Haru yo, Koi. [Correction: the first 3A was in the first half of the program]. 2022.03, World Championships in France, Withdrew He announced his withdrawal because his foot injury had not yet healed. Events he had to skip because of an injury: · 2012 WTT · 2012 GPF (only the gala) · 2013 WC (only the gala) · 2013 WTT · 2014 Finlandia Trophy · 2014 Cup of China (Medal ceremony and gala) · 2014 National Championship (only the gala) · 2015 4CC · 2016 4CC · Summer 2016: Fantasy on Ice tour · 2016 National Championship · 2017 NHK Trophy · 2017 GPF - To be precise, having participated in only one competition, he did not qualify, but to qualify he only needed to finish fourth at the NHK Trophy, which meant he had to obtain at least 245.96 points. The last time he failed to achieve this score was at the 2014 NHK Trophy, three weeks after the accident with Han Yan. · 2017 National Championship · 2018 OG – Team Event · 2018 WC · 2018 Rostelecom Cup (only the gala) · 2018 GPF · 2019 4CC · 2019 WTT · The 2020 WC was cancelled because of the covid. The same happened to the 2020 Autumn Classic International, to the 2020 GP competitions (4 competitions were held, but it takes a lot of imagination to call those competitions "Grand Prix" events) and to the 2021 4CC · 2021 NHK Trophy · 2021 Rostelecom Cup · 2022 WC Note: I have listed the Four Continents Championships in non-Olympic seasons as events missed due to injury—provided, of course, that the skater did not participate. Given how close the 4CC is to the Olympics, those aiming for an Olympic medal typically skip it. In the other season, usually he wanted to compete. For instance, at the 2015 Grand Prix Final, Yuzu had stated his intention to compete in the upcoming 4CC; however, it was only at the National Championships—by which point his Lisfranc injury was causing such severe pain that he could barely skate, though no one else knew—that he announced he would focus on training between the Nationals and the World Championships, opting to skip the 4CC. As for 2012, he was not selected by the Japan Skating Federation, which generally prefers to send at least one skater to the 4CC who will not be competing in the World Championships. Having placed third at the National Championships, Yuzu was sent to the World Championships but left off the 4CC roster (the previous year, after placing fourth at the National Championships, the opposite occurred: he was sent to the 4CC but not to the World Championships). The list of issues—which is almost certainly incomplete (and I haven’t even mentioned nosebleeds before competitions or stomach aches caused by pre-competition nerves)—refers solely to the competitive period.

Pooh proposing to Yuzu with jewellery from the Shower of Heart luxury collection 🥰

<End of "Beyond the Dream" column> The next series covered is the Sochi Oylmpics report. Please check the thread in Year 2014 : https://planethanyu.com/topic/4927-2014-asahi-webronza-sochi-olympics-report/

****Asahi Webronza was an online opinion and analysis platform run by Japan’s Asahi Shimbun newspaper. It published expert commentary, essays, interviews, and analysis on topics including politics, economics, society, sports, science, culture, and entertainment. Compilation of the column series about Sochi Olympics by a figure skating journalist. For the previous column covering 2012-2013 events, please check the thread below: https://planethanyu.com/topic/4926-2012-2013-asahi-webronza-yuzuru-hanyu-beyond-the-dream/ Info: https://web.archive.org/web/20190512130220/https://webronza.asahi.com/authors/2014111800001.html?page=5& https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E3%82%BD%E3%83%81%E3%82%AA%E3%83%AA%E3%83%B3%E3%83%94%E3%83%83%E3%82%AF%EF%BC%91

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E5%A4%A2%E3%81%AE%E3%81%8B%E3%81%AA%E3%81%9F%E3%81%AB%EF%BC%92%EF%BC%90 https://web.archive.org/web/20220519231244/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013080600009.html 2013.08.08 Beyond the Dream 20 - What Does an Affiliation Contract with ANA Mean? “I was told that this is an affiliation contract, rather than an ordinary sponsorship deal. I am truly delighted. The road to Sochi is long and arduous. I want to make the most of the support I have received.” (Yuzuru Hanyu) On July 1, the opening day of the new figure skating season, Yuzuru Hanyu announced that he had signed an affiliation contract with All Nippon Airways (ANA). It is not uncommon for figure skaters to be affiliated with major corporations. Midori Ito, Shizuka Arakawa, and Yukari Nakano were affiliated with Prince Hotels, Miki Ando with Toyota Motor Corporation, and Fumie Suguri with Avex (Arakawa remains affiliated with Prince Hotels). However, the vast majority of these skaters have been women. Among male skaters, there have been very few such cases. One example is Takahiko Kozuka, who is affiliated with Toyota Motor Corporation, a company based in his hometown. (Some popular skaters, such as Mao Asada, Daisuke Takahashi, and Kanako Murakami, have sponsorship deals with several companies rather than just one, while remaining affiliated with the universities they attend.) Men's figure skating is now being described as "Japan's era." At the 2012 World Championships, Daisuke Takahashi finished second and Yuzuru Hanyu third, marking the first time in Japanese history that the country had won multiple medals in the men's event. Incidentally, it had been 11 years since a country last won multiple medals in the men's event, when Russia's Evgeni Plushenko and Alexei Yagudin did so in 2001. In 2012, four Japanese skaters also qualified for the Grand Prix Final, where only six skaters could compete: Takahashi, Hanyu, Takahiko Kozuka, and Tatsuki Machida. To top it all off, Takahashi and Hanyu finished first and second, stunning the world. At this year's World Championships in March, Japan's skaters failed to reach the podium, with Hanyu's injury and Takahashi's struggles with his jumps among the factors. Nevertheless, Team Japan's men will undoubtedly remain a formidable force in determining the outcome at the Sochi Olympics. The prospect of Japan producing its first-ever male Olympic champion in figure skating is looking very promising, much to the anticipation of the Japanese skating community. Even so, public awareness of men's figure skating remains far from high. Despite dominating international competition and attracting a large fan base, particularly among women, figure skating is still regarded as a women's sport in Japan, a male-dominated society. This is not something I tend to notice when I am out covering competitions, but when I talk to editors who are not particularly interested in skating, I am sometimes taken aback when they say things like, "Oh, so there are male skaters too." This lack of recognition is particularly evident when it comes to sponsorship. Even among skaters within reach of an Olympic berth, most male skaters find it financially difficult to continue competing. Some speak frankly about the situation in interviews, saying things like, "The money for skating practice disappears so quickly, it's as if it has wings. At this point, I just feel like shouting, 'Won't somebody please help me!'" I have also heard from several young skaters who still want to continue competing but are considering retiring at the end of this season for financial reasons. Ryuichi Kihara, who switched to pairs this year, said, "I wanted to continue competing for as long as possible. I'm happy that taking up pairs has made that possible." In addition to the fact that pair skaters generally have longer competitive careers than singles skaters, pursuing a place on the Olympic pairs team has enabled him to receive corporate backing. Whenever I see male skaters struggling with whether they can afford to continue competing or contemplating retirement, I find myself thinking about this: skaters are athletes, but each is also an artist with a strong individual identity. When a skater retires, we lose the opportunity to experience that individual's unique form of artistic expression. Given the lack of genuine understanding of men's figure skating, several outstanding performers are abandoning their artistic pursuits. Is it too pessimistic to take this line of thought so far? Against this backdrop, the news that Yuzuru Hanyu had become affiliated with ANA gave me great hope. It was unprecedented for a male skater as young as 18 to receive the backing of a major corporation. According to ANA's Public Relations Department, "We selected him from among all athletes, regardless of gender or age, and approached him with the proposal ourselves." Of course, Hanyu's remarkable achievements were a major factor in securing the contract: he won a bronze medal at the World Championships at 17 and a silver medal at the Grand Prix Final at 18. The possibility that he could remain active not only through the Sochi Olympics but also through the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics in South Korea was another important consideration. An ordinary skater would not have been in the same position. "What do you think of Hanyu? He's cheerful! Fresh and energetic! He has a wonderful smile! He's flexible! His dedication to hard work and challenges, his single-minded commitment, and his willingness to break through boundaries and step onto the global stage. All of these qualities align perfectly with ANA's corporate action principles, 'ANA's Way.' We share the same goals and the same determination to work hard, and we both operate on a global stage. You could say it's a mutual love affair! (laughs) And in the end, we couldn't resist that smile." (Ken Nishimura, ANA Managing Executive Officer and Senior Vice President) "The contract runs for one year, starting today, July 1. The main form of support will be providing airline tickets for travel to Toronto and for overseas trips. We plan to discuss other forms of support for his athletic activities going forward. Hanyu is the second athlete to sign an affiliation contract with our company, following table tennis player Ai Fukuhara." (ANA Public Relations Department) "I'm more nervous at this press conference than I am before starting a performance! (laughs) Skates, blades, training facilities, costumes, program production costs, coaching fees... Figure skating is an incredibly expensive sport. This time, an airline is supporting me, and I'm really happy because there are so many connections between flying, jumping, wings, and feathers, and both skating and my name. They've even created a symbol featuring me skating, which makes me feel that I've truly formed a connection with ANA. "Until now, I've had to travel back and forth between Japan and Toronto many times, and it's been quite difficult. It varies from season to season, but last year I was constantly going back and forth, making so many round trips that I couldn't even count them. Air travel takes a long time, and when I have to fly to different countries for competitions, figuring out how to spend all that time on the plane can be challenging. From now on, I'll be able to feel at ease both at the airport and on board. This support is important because it will have a direct and significant impact on my competitive performance. "I'm delighted, but at the same time, I feel the pressure of having to carry the name of a major company like ANA on my shoulders. It still feels strangely unreal, almost as if it were happening to someone else. But I really have come this far... I feel that I need to work even harder so that I can deliver good performances at competitions from now on." (Yuzuru Hanyu) Yuzuru Hanyu is an unconventional skater, both in his competitive results and in his temperament. Daisuke Takahashi is a prime example, but many Japanese male skaters in the past went through a period of struggling under pressure. They might fail to reproduce in competition what they had achieved in practice, or their results might fluctuate considerably. Only gradually would they develop into world-class skaters capable of competing with the best in the world. "But Yuzuru was never one to lose his nerve in the first place!" His senior, Daisuke Takahashi, has vouched for his mental strength and ability to deliver under pressure. Hanyu has consistently achieved results since his junior days. Now that Hanyu has the backing of ANA, I cannot help but hope that he will help break through the existing barriers: the perception that figure skating is a women's sport and the difficulty male skaters face in securing sponsors. Japan's golden age of men's figure skating was built by skaters such as Daisuke Takahashi, Nobunari Oda, and Takahiko Kozuka. With the Sochi Olympics approaching, Takahashi and Oda have announced their retirements, but I have a feeling that this exciting era will continue to flourish. Hanyu is not the only one who will carry the torch. The generation following Takahashi, including Takahito Mura, Tatsuki Machida, and Akio Sasaki, will remain active after Sochi. The junior generation, including Keiji Tanaka and Ryuju Hino, has also shown remarkable dedication over the off-season, and it looks as though many skaters will compete for places on Japan's national team after Sochi. Further down the ranks are skaters such as Shoma Uno and Taichi Honda, who are still small in stature but already have the makings of stars. Among the even younger generation, Sota Yamamoto, a second-year junior high school student who has landed a triple Axel and is beginning to display talent reminiscent of Hanyu, is one to watch. So is Taichiro Yamakuma, who idolizes Takahashi's skating and is known for his fearless performances. Both are eagerly anticipated as they make their junior debuts this season. Perhaps the era of Japanese men's figure skating that Takahashi and the others laid the foundations for will only truly come into its own after they retire. These young skaters do not feel that figure skating is embarrassing simply because they are boys. By the time they became aware of the world around them, skating was already a popular sport, and their school friends had been telling them, "It's so cool that you do skating!" They grew up watching captivating skaters such as Takahashi and Machida perform, naturally developing the idea that figure skating is about dancing and artistic expression. Now, all that remains is for society to catch up with their outlook. When these young men grow older and reach the age at which they must decide whether to continue skating, I hope they will be able to pursue their competitive careers without worrying about the costs, provided they have reached a certain level, regardless of whether they are men or women. I hope that Yuzuru Hanyu's affiliation contract with ANA will become a major catalyst for raising public awareness and recognition of men's figure skating.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E5%A4%A2%E3%81%AE%E3%81%8B%E3%81%AA%E3%81%9F%E3%81%AB%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%99 https://web.archive.org/web/20220922045537/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013052900006.html 2013.05.30 Beyond the Dream 19 - "Hana ni Nare" Their collaborative number, “Hana ni Nare” (Become a Flower), did not end with the ice show. It is unusual for a song prepared for an ice show to continue being used as an exhibition number after the competitive season has begun. Yet during the 2012–13 season, Yuzuru Hanyu performed “Hana ni Nare” at the exhibitions of the NHK Trophy, the All-Japan Championships, and the Four Continents Championships. In particular, at Medalist on Ice following the All-Japan Championships, he once again performed in collaboration with Fumiya Sashida, who sang live. The performance that drew a particularly strong response was probably the one at the NHK Trophy. It was the first time Hanyu had skated this number in a broadcast shown nationwide on television, and apparently the station received numerous inquiries asking, “Who sings this song?” That year's NHK Trophy was held in Sendai for the first time in five years. It was also the first time since the earthquake that the event had been held in a disaster-stricken area. And, of course, Sendai was Hanyu's hometown. Having won in such a special place, the 17-year-old rising star attracted considerable attention, particularly from the local community. And the number he skated to bring the competition to a close was “Hana ni Nare.” With his oversized sleeves fluttering behind him, he took each step deliberately, skating as though savoring the significance of this special stage. Compared with more experienced skaters, his dancing and expressive techniques might not yet have been particularly sophisticated. But in their place, he had a single-minded dedication to pouring his emotions into his skating, along with the ability to convey his feelings directly and wholeheartedly. Watching him, I was reminded of this once again. I had felt the same way when he first skated at a charity show in Kobe in April 2011, shortly after the earthquake. In places of special significance, where he wants to convey feelings that matter deeply to him, his presence grows all the stronger. Unlike the small rinks used for summer ice shows, he made full use of the 60-by-30-meter competition-sized rink, skating freely and expansively. Gradually stirring warm emotions in the hearts of the audience, he expressed his deep affection for Sendai and his profound gratitude. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Hanyu's NHK Trophy performance came to its conclusion with this number. “Hanyu-kun was beautiful at the NHK Trophy…” Choreographer Kenji Miyamoto says that he particularly remembers this performance. “Given what had happened in the earthquake and the message contained in the lyrics, I almost started crying while choreographing the program myself. I wondered whether there were many other meanings behind Hanyu-kun skating to this song. He has been through so much, and he is still working hard. But now he is looking ahead, ready to bloom into a beautiful flower… I thought he had truly made it into a wonderful program.” (Miyamoto) Sashida, too, had the opportunity to sit in the audience and watch Hanyu skate closely that day. “At ‘Fantasy on Ice’ in Fukui, I was performing live myself, so it was difficult to focus solely on Yuzuru-kun's skating. That's why I thought I'd enjoy watching him from the audience this time. But I didn't even know until the day itself that he was going to skate to this song. So the moment he started skating, I burst into tears. (laughs) “Of course, I'd always watched his performances on TV, but seeing him skate in person is something else entirely. There were details I couldn't see clearly at the shows, so even through my tears, I watched him intently, wondering, ‘How is he skating to it?’ And then I saw how beautifully he expressed both the delicate and the powerful parts of the lyrics through his skating! He's really good at creating facial expressions, too, but I don't think those expressions were put on. I think they came from what he was actually feeling. Watching him, I thought, ‘He's singing…’ It was exactly the same as when I play the piano or sing. The only difference is whether I'm singing into a microphone or expressing it through skating. He, too, is making music… “Since the venue was Sendai, Yuzuru-kun was especially fired up, and I was so happy that he chose to skate to ‘Hana ni Nare’ on such an occasion. It was as though the song itself was being purified through his skating in that place. I was so moved that I was practically speechless, and I ended up crying so much. (laughs) Even now, I still find it difficult to forget how deeply I was moved that day.” (Sashida) An exhibition number can showcase things that are not possible in competition. But even within the greater freedom of an exhibition program, skaters and coaches have differing views on what such a program should be. For example, some might argue that “Hana ni Nare” was an extremely simple program, relatively easy from a technical standpoint. Indeed, during the shows, after finishing his competitive program in the first half, Hanyu would look relieved and happily mutter, “The hard part is over. Now all that's left is ‘Hana ni Nare’!” There was once a skater who performed a flamboyant dance number of the kind typically associated with ice shows, only to shelve it before the season began. The dance-heavy program was visually entertaining and thrilled the audience, but it offered little in the way of technical skating or intricate steps. Apparently, the skater's coach pointed out that no matter how many times the skater performed it, it would not help develop those skills. That made sense. For competitive skaters, who must make every single day of training count, such considerations are important, too. Hanyu's “Hana ni Nare” did include a triple Axel, but the steps and other elements were things he could perform comfortably. It might not have been a program that pushed his technical abilities to the next level, as another of his exhibition numbers, “Hello, I Love You,” did with its abundance of difficult steps. And yet, every time I watched “Hana ni Nare,” I was struck by how much feeling he could pour into his skating when he did not have to concentrate on technical demands. Here was the unguarded charm of the Yuzuru Hanyu of that time, something he had found difficult to show fully in competition, where he had to contend with the tension of difficult jumps and steps. “Hana ni Nare” was a number that allowed him to reveal all of it, in abundance.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E5%A4%A2%E3%81%AE%E3%81%8B%E3%81%AA%E3%81%9F%E3%81%AB%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%98 https://web.archive.org/web/20220519231244/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013052900007.html 2013.05.29 Beyond the Dream 18 - Creating a Show Number After making it through the fierce battles at the World Championships. Yuzuru Hanyu, who injured his left knee, spent a full month off the ice, recuperating at his family home in Sendai. After attending events such as the Skating Federation's awards ceremony, he returned to Toronto, Canada, in late April. Still concerned about his leg injury and with his physical condition remaining unstable, he nevertheless began working on choreography for a new program with David Wilson in May. At the end of the month, he returned to Japan to perform in the ice show Art on Ice. Skating to Fumiya Fujii's classic song "TRUE LOVE," he was expected to show audiences his energetic skating again for the first time in about two months. The off-season was a time when audiences could enjoy his skating at ice shows for a while. In 2012, he performed a number for the first time in collaboration with a musician performing live, revealing a new side of himself as a showman. Though it was a show number, "Hana ni Nare" (Become a Flower) had left a strong impression during the previous season. Now that the ice show season is here, let's take another look at the program. "I hadn't met Yuzuru-kun at all before the day of the show. We met for the first time in Fukui, and after chatting briefly, we decided, 'Let's just try it once without thinking too much about it.' So we rehearsed with the idea of simply letting ourselves be free at first, and then... somehow, singing it felt so good! And it wasn't just me. Yuzuru-kun felt the same way. After rehearsal, he came over and said, 'Woooow! This is just too amazing!' (laughs)" Singer Fumiya Sashida, who performs "Hana ni Nare," recalled his first encounter with Yuzuru Hanyu in these words. The number was originally selected from Sashida's songs and choreographed for Fantasy on Ice, an ice show held in Fukui in September 2012. At the time, Hanyu had returned from Toronto at the end of August to take part in the show, and worked on the program with choreographer Kenji Miyamoto. During the 2012–13 season, Hanyu worked with three Canadian choreographers for the first time: David Wilson, Jeffrey Buttle, and Kurt Browning. In fact, "Hana ni Nare" was also the first program he had skated that was choreographed by Miyamoto. "Hanyu-kun is a skater who practices very seriously. He also learns choreography incredibly quickly. When I choreographed the program, I wanted to make the most of his long limbs, small face, and well-proportioned features." (Miyamoto) "Working on the program with Coach Kenji was really easy. First of all, he explained each movement in great detail. For example, there's a particularly striking spread eagle, and he told me, 'Imagine that you're flying with wings.' He explained things in depth, including what meaning to give each movement in relation to the lyrics. It was like he knew exactly how to scratch an itch I couldn't quite reach (laughs)." (Yuzuru Hanyu) "He really liked the song, too. The lyrics mention the wind, the sky, and the sun, giving the song a sense of clarity. I tried to create a fast-paced program that would match that atmosphere. Even from my perspective, he looks as though he's really enjoying himself as he skates." (Miyamoto) Many skaters complain that Miyamoto is a strict teacher, but his collaboration with Hanyu proceeded in a relaxed atmosphere. Although both took the work seriously, they never clashed. Watching the two of them, it was remarkable how quickly Hanyu picked up Miyamoto's movements and instructions, showing a keen instinct for what was needed. Miyamoto's suggestions, such as "Why don't you try it a little more like this?" were also spot-on. It was fascinating to see how a single piece of advice could bring such a marked improvement in Hanyu's movements. Many people must have noticed how skillfully the choreography brought out Hanyu's strengths. The program came together smoothly, allowing his body to move naturally in response to the music and his feelings. The choreography proceeded without a hitch and was completed in just three days. Hanyu then headed straight to Fukui, where he met Sashida for the first time, as described at the beginning. In fact, Hanyu seemed to have been looking forward to performing with live vocals. He had always loved music and was the sort of person who could hardly be separated from his iPod. He had also appeared in the same ice show in 2011, but had been disappointed that he couldn't realize his wish to collaborate with a musician. The guest artists that year were MONKEY MAJIK, a rock band based in Sendai. As fans will know, Hanyu had previously skated to their song "Change" as a regular exhibition number during the 2009–10 season. "'Change' was the first song with proper vocals that I skated to. It felt really fresh, and it was a fun program to skate. I created it in the year I won the World Junior Championships, and it could become one of my signature exhibition numbers. I would have been so happy if I could have skated to it with the band playing live. Performing together with musicians is something I've always dreamed of." (Hanyu, in a 2011 comment) However, "Change" featured the Yoshida Brothers, shamisen musicians who had collaborated with MONKEY MAJIK, and it would have been difficult to perform the song live without them. More importantly, Hanyu had not yet competed at the World Championships, and it was considered too early for him to collaborate with musicians in the way the leading skaters did. This time, however, he was a World Championships bronze medalist, leaving no room for anyone to object. With many audience members coming specifically to see him, he could confidently perform a collaborative number that would be one of the show's highlights. "I was just as happy about it. Of course, I knew Yuzuru-kun's name, but I hadn't known that musicians sometimes got the chance to sing at ice shows. I'd never even imagined that I might collaborate with a figure skater, so I was a little surprised. And I was so happy that I thought, 'I've got to make sure I sing this properly!' (laughs). I was really excited to have the chance to take on a new challenge myself, too." (Sashida) One was 17 at the time, the other 26. Though they differed in age and profession, it was a truly exciting meeting between two rising stars in their respective fields. "Just as there are certain timings in singing, there are timings in skating, like when to jump, right? At first, I thought it might be better to coordinate those things. But in the end, we didn't pay particular attention to them. The most important thing was simply that both of us felt good doing it. So I just performed as I normally would at a live show. Yuzuru-kun said, 'I'll immerse myself in the lyrics as I skate.' Thanks to that, I didn't get nervous from the very first performance or find myself thinking, 'Oh no, what am I going to do...?' We were able to enjoy ourselves and perform comfortably. "Watching him from a distance, I thought the movements in the program were very simple. But the simpler the movements, the harder they must be. I thought it was amazing that he could become so emotionally involved and express himself so powerfully through such movements. And he's only 18, having just turned 18 the other day. Honestly, that's incredible." (Sashida) Hanyu himself said that he became so immersed in the music while skating that he nearly cried. Sashida was delighted to hear him say that. "We were able to maintain the same energy for the second performance, and for the third and final one, we were both incredibly fired up. Before we went on, we said to each other, 'We've enjoyed ourselves so far, but let's enjoy ourselves even more this last time!' 'Then let's go for it until we're both completely lost in the music!' We were so excited that Yuzuru-kun even suggested, 'Why don't we do one more song?' We agreed, 'Yeah, let's do it!' and actually asked whether we could perform something together after 'Hana ni Nare.' In the end, it wasn't possible because of time constraints, but that's how enthusiastic we both were. By the third and final performance, we felt as though we'd given it absolutely everything!" (Sashida) Throughout the performances, Hanyu was indeed so high-spirited that it was almost comical. Even during the interval, he could barely contain his excitement and kept pestering his fellow skaters, including Tatsuki Machida. He frolicked around noisily, and even when told, "Keep it down!" he remained full of energy. At times, his emotions ran so high that he seemed unable to control himself and behaved like a child. On this day, he was particularly out of control. "Especially in the performance just now, I messed up a jump, so I thought I had to make up for it in other parts... I tried adding a Biellmann spin. The Biellmann position looks a bit like a flower bud, so I thought it might suit 'Hana ni Nare.' Did it look like I was singing while skating? Yeah, I sing along like crazy every single time!" (Hanyu) Once he had calmed down a little, he rushed over to Sashida to ask for a photo and an autograph. In fact, Hanyu was an 18-year-old celebrity-loving fanboy. "After that, the two of us just kept talking. My first impression of Yuzuru-kun was that he was really focused and seemed mature. But it turned out he was shy around people he didn't know. I was the same way. Once we became comfortable with someone, we could talk a lot. That initial barrier had disappeared by the time we'd run through 'Hana ni Nare' together once. After that, we just chatted away like normal. Rather than talking about the collaboration, we mostly talked about the games we were into and other silly things (laughs). Then we got a little more serious and talked about the goals we each wanted to achieve. We talked about all sorts of things." Behind the scenes at ice shows, collaborating skaters and artists often have separate dressing rooms. Skaters also tend to be younger, while musicians are generally seasoned professionals. Perhaps, then, it was somewhat unusual for two people to become as close as these two and talk so openly with each other.

Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E5%A4%A2%E3%81%AE%E3%81%8B%E3%81%AA%E3%81%9F%E3%81%AB%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%97 https://web.archive.org/web/20220520171920/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013031900010.html 2013.03.20 Beyond the Dream 17 - The Strength That Astonished Everyone I never imagined the World Championships before the Olympics could be this nerve-racking. Whenever one Japanese skater did well, we'd jump for joy, thinking, "Everything's going to be all right now!" But if another had a disappointing performance, we'd look as though we were at a funeral, thinking, "It's all over..." And then, against our better judgment, we'd find ourselves breathing a sigh of relief at the performances of skaters from other countries... Watching this World Championships, we kept chanting “Three spots, three spots” like a mantra, referring to the three Olympic entries each country could earn. It's been a long time since I've watched competitions that were this hard on the heart, in both the men's and women's events. Amid all this came Yuzuru Hanyu's performance in the men's free skate. For four minutes and thirty seconds, there were virtually no transitions, and the choreography seemed to have flown out the window. I never imagined that a program so stripped bare could move me so deeply. People can be so fickle. Before the competition, I'd been thinking, "It's all right if he makes a few mistakes on his jumps. This is the World Championships, after all, and I absolutely want to see a free skate that's worth watching." But after the short program results put Japan's three Olympic spots in jeopardy, my thinking changed. I no longer cared about the dancing or the choreography. I just wanted him to land his jumps cleanly! I found myself watching with all the desperation of someone praying. Figure skating is a sport that tests a skater's overall ability, but if the jumps don't come off, they can't finish near the top, no matter how deeply they move people. Conversely, if the jumps are landed, a skater can expect to earn a certain number of points. That's why I was reminded once again that it's only natural for so many skaters to say, "When it comes to competition, I end up thinking about nothing but my jumps. The desire to put on a performance that moves people comes second." Given the condition of his body after those jumps in the short program, how much of the free skate could he possibly get through? With the pain and physical exhaustion, it would have been understandable if he couldn't land most of his jumps. There was simply no way Hanyu could land his jumps and still deliver an expressive performance in his current condition. So, at the very least, I hoped he would finish his free skate with as few mistakes as possible. That was all I could wish for. "I was out for ten days with the flu, and then I got injured and had to take another week off. And then the short program turned out the way it did... When I thought about the Olympic spots for Sochi, I felt really sorry. It wasn't just pressure. I also felt a tremendous sense of responsibility. So today, I started skating with the determination not to lose my concentration until the very end. But, whatever I said to myself, I was incredibly anxious...” And so, in the free skate, Hanyu proceeded with extreme caution, taking every possible precaution with each jump while sparing his body as much as he could. He landed the troublesome quadruple toe loop cleanly. His Salchow was slightly off-balance and under-rotated, but he avoided a fall. What remarkable concentration! Next came the flip, followed by two Axel combinations... As I clenched my fists with every jump he landed, these words came to mind. It really was just as I had thought. With every jump, his movements became more labored. I had never seen him look so exhausted as he did while rotating in that final camel spin. His intricate choreography and sophisticated skating were barely half of what he was capable of, and there was virtually no expression left in his performance. The program he had spent so much time building was, quite astonishingly, empty. But that was enough. Yuzuru Hanyu had come to this rink today to jump. And as Japan's representative, he'd come to deliver a result at the World Championships before the Olympics. Even under normal circumstances, that would have been a difficult mission. Yet he'd accomplished it all under the greatest pressure and in the worst possible condition. That was the strength he possessed. "I realized that simply taking on the challenge wasn't enough. That wouldn't mean anything. I had to land the jumps properly. If I didn't get results, I wouldn't have contributed to the team or fulfilled my responsibility as Japan's representative and the reigning All-Japan champion. That's what I thought." In the end, his only jump mistake was the quadruple Salchow. By the end of the program, he was utterly exhausted, and his body could barely move. In the final spin, he even omitted the physically demanding butterfly entry. He was willing to sacrifice a level on the spin if that meant he could make it to the end, showing his sheer determination to finish. Then came the finishing pose, both arms thrust forcefully into the air! That final moment, when he summoned every last ounce of strength he had, was the only part that truly felt like Hanyu's Notre-Dame de Paris. But that was enough. "I didn't complete the rotation on the Salchow, and my score wasn't perfect. But I managed to skate all the way to the end of a program that included the Salchow, giving it everything I had. Personally, I'm satisfied. I really feel a sense of accomplishment!" I thought I knew how strong Yuzuru Hanyu was. When asked about his greatest strengths, I'd always answer, "He's good at jumps, and he can use his body flexibly. But his greatest strength is his strong mentality, a personality well suited to an athlete." He loved competition and hated losing. The more adversity he faced, the more fired up he became, and he could even enjoy the tension of being pushed to his limits. I knew all about his strength. And yet, even so, I couldn't have imagined he could be this strong. Many people involved in the sport were also full of admiration for him that day. Coach Orser, of course, but choreographer David Wilson, who stood rinkside for Hanyu for the first time at this competition, was equally excited. "I was really amazed by the strength he has deep down. I mean, he'd barely practiced at all in Toronto just before the competition!" Wilson also said he was already thinking about plans for the next season for the sake of his hardworking young protégé. Kathy Reed, an ice dancer and friend on the Japanese team, also commented, "Athletes have to overcome all kinds of circumstances and compete regardless. Take Hanyu-kun, for example. His knee hurt, but he still managed to do everything he needed to do." Amid all the praise, however, it was probably the men's skaters who would compete alongside Hanyu in Sochi who felt the greatest shiver of apprehension at his almost monstrous strength. What if he hadn't been injured? Patrick Chan of Canada, who had just become world champion for the third consecutive year, and Javier Fernandez of Spain, who had won his first World Championship bronze medal at this competition, must both have wondered what the result might have been. Meanwhile, I hope Hanyu's efforts will provide an even greater source of inspiration for the Japanese skaters, who feel a closer connection to him. Japan had secured all three men's places for the Sochi Olympics. The skaters competing for those spots were all older than Hanyu, and surely his performance had strengthened their resolve: "I'm not going to let Yuzu beat me!" And what about the young skaters of his generation and those younger than him? For now, they still speak modestly of him, saying things like, "Hanyu-kun is on another level" or "I could never become as strong as he is." What did they feel when they watched Hanyu that day? Consider the history of Japanese men's figure skating. Takeshi Honda, for example, performed quadruple jumps with almost craftsmanlike precision, changing the way skaters who followed him thought about jumping. Daisuke Takahashi, for example, delivered performances that were extraordinary by Japanese standards, changing the way the next generation thought about artistic expression. Now, Yuzuru Hanyu may become the man who fundamentally changes the mentality of Japanese male skaters, who have so often been mocked as “all glass hearts,” “united by their mental fragility,” or “a whole lineup of timid princes.”