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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.”

*** Separate general article about Worlds 2013 from the same journalist. Not part of this series, but worth to add in the chronology of events Source: https://bsima.wiki.fc2.com/wiki/%E4%B8%96%E7%95%8C%E9%81%B8%E6%89%8B%E6%A8%A9%E3%83%AA%E3%83%9D%E3%83%BC%E3%83%882013 2013.03.14 World Championships Report 2013 Daisuke Takahashi, Yuzuru Hanyu, Takahito Mura: Their Resolve Spoiler 2013.03.15 World Championships Report 2013 Men's Short Program – Takahito Mura shows significant improvement. How will Yuzuru Hanyu cope with the setback? Spoiler

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%96 https://web.archive.org/web/20220524054101/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013031200013.html 2013.03.13 Beyond the Dream 16 - Toward First Place at the World Championships with a Perfect Performance There’s Still Something Missing from His Free Skate The daunting challenge of attempting a quadruple Salchow, along with concerns about his physical condition that could affect his ability to execute it: even if Yuzuru Hanyu overcomes these two obstacles, his free skate still faces another major challenge. How far can the 18-year-old go in fully expressing the essence of Notre-Dame de Paris? Japanese media coverage tends to focus heavily on whether jumps are landed successfully. But figure skating is a comprehensive sport, and whether a performance can captivate and leave a lasting impression on the audience is also a major factor in determining the outcome of a competition. Take Javier Fernández of Spain and his free skate this season, Chaplin. Some have criticized it as a program with many opportunities to rest in order to accommodate three quadruple jumps. Yet even in the sections where he stands still and dances, he incorporates striking moments of mime, turning the program into a dramatic work that feels like a short film. Many junior skaters also say, “I love Javier’s free skate!” It is undoubtedly one of the standout programs of this season. Fernández is not the only one. Daisuke Takahashi, Patrick Chan of Canada, and Takahito Mura are also experienced senior skaters, each performing programs with a strong individual character. At the Four Continents Championships, some viewers may even have found Takahashi’s or Mura’s free skate more memorable than Hanyu’s, despite Hanyu finishing second. The question is whether Hanyu can hold his own at the World Championships against skaters performing such impactful programs. There is a certain compatibility between a program and the skater performing it. In Hanyu’s case this season, his short program is an exceptionally good fit. For Takahashi, his free skate, The Clown, seems to bring out his emotions more naturally, and he delivered an overwhelming performance at the All-Japan Championships. His short program, on the other hand, apparently never quite felt right, and he changed it partway through the season. Finding a program that suits a skater is a formidable challenge for anyone. It seems to depend not only on the compatibility between the skater and choreographer, or between the skater and the music, but on something more than either of those alone. Other skaters, such as Japan’s Yuki Nishino, who tends to get nervous in competition, have told me that they want a program that allows them to relax as soon as the music starts playing. “Whenever I strike my opening pose in a competition and the music starts, I always get nervous, thinking, ‘Oh, it’s started…’ But with O mio babbino caro (her short program last season), I would suddenly feel calm. I was surprised myself. I remember thinking, ‘Oh, so there’s music that can make me feel this calm!’ I had never come across music like that before. Thanks to it, I had quite a few successful short programs that year.” Furthermore, no matter how much a skater loves a program or how highly others regard it as a masterpiece, it is difficult to maintain the same level of enthusiasm for performing it throughout an entire season. Yamato Tamura, who represented Japan at the Nagano Olympics, looked back on his Olympic-year free skate, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, this way: “I really loved that program, and I was able to get into it and skate with real feeling right up until the All-Japan Championships. But by the time the Olympics came around, I had grown tired of both the music and the choreography… By then, I was already thinking things like, ‘What should I skate to next? What kind of music would I like for next season?’” Finding the right program and knowing how to connect emotionally with the music… neither is easy. Strangely enough, before the season began, Hanyu’s free skate had actually seemed the better fit for him. It was somewhat mature and dramatic, yet still an extension of the style that had always characterized him: youthful and passionate. I had expected him to show us something wonderful. By contrast, his short program was quite an adventurous choice, and some wondered whether such a sensual, melancholy program would suit him. “But for now… there’s still something missing from his free skate.” Now that the season is nearing its end, things are much as Brian Orser himself described them (in Part 15 of this series). Hanyu has yet to overcome a major hurdle when it comes to presenting his free skate to the audience. He is still struggling to get through the difficult jumps and steps while maintaining enough stamina to complete the program. What he needs now is the personal drive to decide what kind of Notre-Dame de Paris he wants to show the audience. During the 2011–12 season, when his free skate was Romeo and Juliet, I was able to draw him out on this subject time and again. “I watched the movie, and it was different from the story Shakespeare wrote. It was a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, with Leonardo DiCaprio playing Romeo. That version really resonated with me, and I thought it was great. So at the beginning of the season, I skated while replaying the movie in my mind, just as it was. Rather than skating my own emotions, it felt more like I was making the images and my skating become one. “Then, after skating it many times in competitions… I think I gradually reached the point where I was no longer DiCaprio or anyone else, but was acting out the story myself. I want to take both Shakespeare’s Romeo and the Romeo from the movie into myself, then express my own Romeo, someone who is neither one nor the other.” (Comment from January 2012) It was precisely because Hanyu had such a deep desire to show the audience what he wanted to express through the program that he was able to deliver a performance with everything he had at the World Championships at the end of the 2011–12 season, bringing the entire audience to its feet. How, then, does he intend to express this season’s Notre-Dame de Paris? “Yes. I think the free skate is relatively close to my usual style. The final section, in particular, reminds me of Paganini (*Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, his free skate in the 2008–09 and 2009–10 seasons). I skated that program for two years, so it left a deep impression on me. The atmosphere I was aiming for back then was a kind of soft, androgynous quality. I was still a junior, so it was a rather vague idea (laughs). “But with this Notre-Dame, even within that softness, I need to have a masculine core, a mature atmosphere, and the solid, commanding presence of an adult. I think that is the core of the program. Then, surrounding that mature atmosphere, I want to show the softer expression that I have. I hope that softness will be completely different from the kind I had as a junior. I hope I can convey that whole atmosphere, that aura…” (Comment from August) After skating the program repeatedly in competitions, Hanyu may have gradually developed his own image of Notre-Dame de Paris. However, considering that he has not spoken about the program as often as he did about Romeo and Juliet in the 2011–12 season, perhaps he himself has yet to fully discover how he wants to present this season’s free skate. Until now, Hanyu had spent six years with coach Nanami Abe, gradually developing what made him Yuzuru Hanyu through working closely with her, as she was also his choreographer. This year marks his first season venturing out into the wider world. Fortunately, he has been able to show us a “new Yuzuru” through his short program. Ordinarily, however, finding the right fit with a new choreographer and new approaches to expression takes more time. “This season, we started training together. I think the timing was very good. We’ve been given one season to understand each other, in preparation for the big goal of the Olympics.” (Brian Orser) As his coach says, they are still gradually exploring how well Hanyu and his choreographer work together, how he connects with the music, and the possibilities he has as a performer. Just as with the quadruple jumps and his physical conditioning, this challenge may also still be at the stage of laying the groundwork. Toward the Finished Version of Notre-Dame de Paris Everything is for the future. Looking back, Hanyu has spent this season in a way that is remarkably typical of a pre-Olympic season. His coach and those around him probably never expected him to reach the top of the world at the World Championships this March. Instead, they have set the 18-year-old various challenges with the future in mind, regarding many aspects of his development as works in progress. Against this backdrop comes the World Championships in a pre-Olympic season. With consistent results of second place at the Grand Prix Final, victory at the All-Japan Championships, and second place at the Four Continents Championships, expectations are inevitably rising. “Well then, shall we go and watch Yuzuru win!” One journalist even said this in an excited voice. But winning this year’s World Championships will not be easy for him. He still has so many challenges to overcome, and in addition to Patrick Chan and Daisuke Takahashi, who finished ahead of him last year, there are also rivals such as Javier Fernández and Kevin Reynolds of Canada, who have been improving rapidly. “It might not be that easy,” some people said, taking a more measured view. Amid all these expectations, what is interesting is that Hanyu himself is eager to win this year’s World Championships. “I’ve done everything I needed to do up to this point. As a result, I’ve achieved personal bests and even world-record scores at various competitions. Even so, I still lack the strength I need in my free skate, and at Four Continents, all my weaknesses came out… But I’m confident that I’ve put in the work, and I want to get even stronger from here. “Above all, I need to practice. Really practice! Brian and I have talked about doing the hardest training I’ve ever done. First, I want to train right through to the World Championships, pushing myself all the way to the end. “And at the World Championships themselves, I want to show perfect jumps. I want to state that unequivocally. I don’t know whether I can really do it, but I want to show perfection! I’ll go into the competition with that level of concentration and give it everything I have. I want first place, too. My goal is to take first place with a perfect performance.” The 18-year-old only grows stronger when faced with difficult obstacles. This time, let us see the extent of his potential and determination. But even if he cannot overcome the challenges posed by the two types of quadruple jumps and his stamina, there is still something I want to see from Yuzuru Hanyu at the World Championships, which may be his final competition of the season. I want to see it in his free skate, where he has yet to deliver a performance this season that makes us exclaim, “This is it!” I want him to show us what Yuzuru Hanyu’s Notre-Dame de Paris truly is. For someone who is still only 18, this will surely be the most difficult challenge of all. Yet it is precisely because he has the ability to reach deep inside people through his short program that I want him to show us what he can do in this final free skate. The jumper Yuzuru can show us again next season, even if not this year. But the opportunity to see the finished version of Notre-Dame de Paris, a program that will last only one season, is almost gone. And so, too, is our opportunity to witness it.

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%95 https://web.archive.org/web/20190824220808/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013021500010.html 2013.03.12 Beyond the Dream 15 - Four Continents Championships Report (Part 2) The Salchow bomb “A grueling program”—that was how someone described Notre-Dame de Paris, the free skate that had just been completed. At Coach Brian Orser’s direction, the program was packed with complex steps, putting the skating skills Hanyu had acquired in Canada to the test. Orser had also given him another instruction: to project the aura of a “grown man,” rather than the boyish quality he had shown up until the previous season. On top of that, the program opened with two quadruple jumps, a toe loop and a Salchow. A skater who had only begun attempting quads in competition two seasons earlier was already taking on jumps at the world’s highest level this year. “Jumps, skating, the program… Can I manage all of it? I probably can’t do any of it at all! I know that, so I’m prepared for it. Things might not go well, but I’ll get through it with sheer determination!” (Comment made in August) But this challenging program seemed to be tougher than even Hanyu had anticipated. His mistakes on the quadruple Salchow and other elements in the Four Continents free skate were understandable at this stage. What was more disappointing was that the tension of competition had affected his concentration, preventing him from delivering a compelling performance to the large audience in Osaka. His short program, Parisienne Walkways, was so impressive that it looked set to become one of his signature performances. That often made the free skate feel lacking by comparison. Having seen how much attention he paid to expression in the short program, I couldn’t help wondering why he didn’t make the free skate more enjoyable to watch. “Well, yes. Even from my perspective, I think there’s something a little lacking in the long program, the free skate. The jumps are good. But there are a few things we need to improve outside the jumps, and things we need to work on…” Those were the words of Coach Brian Orser. Hanyu had yet to fully master Notre-Dame de Paris. How would he tackle this challenge? His determination to master two types of quads First of all, Hanyu himself seemed to feel that attempting two different types of quads was his biggest hurdle. “I’m confident in the toe loop I’ve been doing since last year. When I can land it, I can jump it with about as much force as I would a triple. But the Salchow… At Four Continents, I actually found myself laughing wryly in the middle of the jump. I was like, ‘Ahh! I’ve done it now…’ (laughs). “Even in regular practice, my success rate on the Salchow still isn’t very high. When I can’t land it, I just can’t do it at all. I succeed maybe once every 10 or 20 attempts. Even when things are going well, I land it only about once every three tries. I had only just gotten a feel for the Salchow right before coming to Four Continents. During official practice, I was landing it one after another and felt I was getting somewhere, but it didn’t work in competition, so there’s nothing I can do about that. I’ll have to start over and work on it again. “This time, I was focused on the Salchow, so I’m not worried about the mistake later in the program, when I popped the triple Lutz. What frustrates me more is missing the Salchow when I had focused so much on it. In competition, the nerves really are something else. You get nervous, start thinking about all sorts of things, and your body can stiffen up…” There was something remarkable about the methodical way Hanyu acquired his jumps. At 14, in his first year as a junior, he attempted the triple Axel for the first time and had mastered it well enough to land it with ease in competition within the same season. In his second junior season, he set himself the goal of including two triple Axels in his free skate, with the second one placed in the second half of the program. He achieved that, too. At 15, he went on to win the World Junior Championships. Then, in his first season as a senior at 16, he was already attempting quads. By the end of that season, he had become consistent enough to land a quad in his free skate. Last season, he began attempting a quad in his short program as well, aiming to land two quads across the short and free programs. He came close to achieving that goal and won the World Championships bronze medal at 17. And this season, landing one quadruple toe loop in each of the short and free programs had become routine. Now he was desperately working to master a second type of quad, the quadruple Salchow, before the season ended. “At this rate, I want to try a quadruple loop next season. I mean, Javier [Fernández of Spain] is already doing all types of quadruple jumps!” He was only 18. From the outside, one might think there was no need for him to rush so much. And attempting a different type of quad, the Salchow, was no small undertaking. He had managed to land it at the Finlandia Trophy, the first competition of the season, but since then he had struggled with shaky landings and under-rotations. We had yet to see a clean quadruple Salchow from him at a major competition. In that case, one might wonder whether it would have been better for him to attempt the same quad twice this year, choosing the toe loop, which had a higher success rate and was more likely to earn positive grades of execution. I put that question to Brian Orser as well. “Of course, we considered doing two toe loops. But when we think about his future, I believe it’s important for him to include both the toe loop and the Salchow. Eventually, I think it would be fine for him to include two toe loops and one Salchow. What matters to me is continuing to develop him. Of course, it’s not easy. But I think this is a good start for his first year with the Salchow. It’s not easy, so he still has a lot of growing to do. “Yuzuru wants to try a quadruple loop next year? That’s great! (laughs) Javier is already practising his third type of quad. Yuzuru probably saw that and thought he could do it, too. His quadruple toe loop is so high in quality that I don’t think he’s heading in the wrong direction. He should keep trying things little by little, rather than attempting everything at once. He’s young and has time. I’d love to see him land three quads in his free skate someday. He can do it!” (Coach Orser) But what if Hanyu reached a major competition before he had mastered the quadruple Salchow? Would he consider dropping the Salchow and sticking to the toe loop as his only quad? I put that question to Hanyu himself. “No, I haven’t considered that. No matter how many times I fail, I intend to include both the toe loop and the Salchow in every competition this season. If things don’t go well, Brian might tell me, ‘Stop jumping it!’ That could be an important decision if the goal is to win. But I want to keep challenging myself.” (Comment made in August) Fortunately, coach and student were in agreement, and so far Hanyu had included both types of quads in every competition he had entered. He was deeply frustrated by his failed Salchow at Four Continents, but his challenge was always about looking ahead. If he could land both the toe loop and the Salchow cleanly at the World Championships, it would be an achievement worthy of thunderous applause: mastering the second quad in his very first season of attempting it. Improving his physical condition However, a difficult jump like the quadruple Salchow could potentially throw off an entire program. For a skater like Hanyu, whose jumping technique was so economical, a single Salchow could become a major time bomb. I once heard him explain that the more beautifully a jump was executed, the less strain it placed on the body. When a skater lands cleanly and glides smoothly away on one foot, that moment allows the body to rest. “That’s why it’s not just falls that take a toll. If you keep stepping out of jumps, or landing them without any flow, with the landing feeling jammed up, fatigue just keeps building over the four and a half minutes. This time, I may have used up a tremendous amount of energy on that one Salchow. Popping a jump is exhausting, too. When you’re about to jump and the movement suddenly gets cut off, it’s a mental blow, your concentration breaks, and you lose physical energy as well. It’s… pretty tough. Maybe I used up all my strength on the Salchow and had nothing left for the other elements that needed it. Perhaps that’s why I was so exhausted in the second half, too. I think all the training I’ve done has helped me build up quite a lot of stamina. But in the atmosphere of competition, there are still times when I run out of steam…” At four minutes and 30 seconds, roughly two minutes longer than the short program, the free skate was still a heavy burden for Hanyu. And skating those four and a half minutes while carrying the time bomb that was the Salchow made it all the more demanding. As anyone could see, his build was slender and seemingly fragile for a male athlete. Unlike women, male skaters generally become capable of executing more advanced jumps as they develop the muscularity of a mature adult body. But Hanyu was still at the age when his peers were competing at the World Junior Championships. Joshua Farris, who had won this year’s World Junior Championships, and Jason Brown, who finished second, were both American. Japan’s leading junior skaters, Ryuju Hino and Keiji Tanaka, were also the same age as Hanyu. At an age when his peers were competing with jumps up to the triple Axel, Hanyu was attempting two different types of quad. Surely that placed considerable strain on his body. His health was another concern. He had suffered from respiratory problems since childhood and was prone to catching colds. He had a small appetite for a high school student, tired easily, and was often more exhausted the day after a competition than even the more experienced skaters. He certainly could not be described as physically robust. I had also heard that he had not been feeling quite himself since suffering food poisoning at the Grand Prix Final in Sochi earlier that season. Could he really master a free skate that demanded so much stamina, both for the jumps and for the other elements, with a body like his? “However, the effort he puts into improving his physical condition is considerable.” Those words came from Masashi Aoshima, a massage therapist in Toronto. “When Yuzuru first came to see me in May, the biggest problem was that he knew far too little about his own body as an athlete. Whether it came to injuries or physical fitness, he really wasn’t aware of his own condition. So I pointed out all sorts of things he wasn’t doing and things he didn’t know. I imagine he was pretty upset at being made fun of (laughs). But Yuzuru has that kind of personality. The more I told him, the more determined he became to study everything and prove me wrong. By the time he came for his next treatment, he had thoroughly reviewed what I’d told him and was ready to argue his case. “Now he knows far more anatomy than many massage therapists who aren’t particularly good at their jobs. He understands the structure of the muscles throughout his body and how the major muscles work. At first, he was the kind of skater who would say things like, ‘Stretching has nothing to do with me.’ Now he tells me he spends two hours a day on it. You have to acknowledge that kind of effort. He comes to see me three times a week now, but his physical conditioning has improved to such an extent that I can say with confidence that treatment alone could never have brought him this far.” As a result of these steady efforts, the right ankle he had injured at the World Championships a year earlier was still painful, but it was no longer causing major problems as he approached the end of the season. And while the Salchow tended to overshadow everything else, the extraordinary consistency of his quadruple toe loop this season was also a result of the improvements he had made to his physical condition. What about his stamina, though? Could he build up enough endurance to complete the full four and a half minutes? As I reported in the seventh instalment of this series, various measures were being tried, including acupuncture treatment to loosen the muscles in his chest. “By loosening his chest muscles, he can breathe more easily now. Before, tension in his chest meant that even when he took a deep breath, he couldn’t get enough air in. Now oxygen can enter his lungs much more easily. This has naturally improved his stamina during performances. And with more oxygen reaching his brain, his concentration has improved as well. That has also helped increase his success rate on difficult elements. “He seems to be very aware of these changes himself. As you’d expect from a top athlete, he notices physical changes far more sensitively than an ordinary person would. He has told me that even the difficult free skate choreographed by David Wilson feels easier to perform than before. When he sees positive changes, he becomes even more convinced of the value of my treatment and the things he’s doing himself, which motivates him to work even harder on his physical conditioning. “Unusually for someone his age, he still has a certain openness and willingness to listen. He takes in what people tell him and has the ability to absorb it and make it his own. His physical recovery is progressing much faster than I initially expected.” (Aoshima) Even with all these measures and Hanyu’s own hard work, this season’s free skate and its two types of quads remained formidable challenges. If he once again ran out of steam at the World Championships, people might say that stamina was still his weakness. But his physical development was still a work in progress. He was steadily laying the groundwork for the day when, after overcoming this major hurdle, he would be able to deliver performances at a much higher level. He was continuing his physical conditioning without letting up.

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%94 https://web.archive.org/web/20220814103702/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013021500009.html 2013.02.16 Beyond the Dream 14 - Four Continents Championships Report (Part 1) The “Trick” Behind the Short Program “The short program has been a huge help.” That was Brian Orser, Hanyu’s coach, speaking with a wry smile after the All-Japan Championships. In three of the five competitions he had competed in so far, Hanyu had taken the lead in the short program, and even when he made mistakes in the free skate, he had often managed to hold on to that lead and win. Above all, the most impressive achievement was surely his world-record scores in two consecutive competitions, Skate America and the NHK Trophy. “That was great! I was so excited I could hardly believe it myself!” The one expressing such unreserved delight was Jeffrey Buttle, the choreographer. As discussed in the fifth installment of this series, Buttle’s work was outstanding, and his choreography matched Yuzuru Hanyu’s individuality remarkably well. “I received so many congratulatory emails, too. Everyone was writing to me, saying, ‘Yuzuru’s short program was amazing!’ I wanted to take credit for his world-record score myself, too! (laughs) But that was the result of Yuzuru putting my advice into practice. If he hadn’t been able to express his individuality on the ice to that extent, ‘Parisienne Walkways’ wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting. Not many people can do what he does. I’m proud of him!” (Buttle) Even a former world champion was full of praise for Hanyu’s short program this season. At the Four Continents Championships, despite making a mistake on his third jump, the triple Lutz–triple toe loop combination, he still delivered a performance that was thoroughly engaging to watch. “I’m not worried about the short program. But at the All-Japan Championships, I was still at the stage where I was just managing to land the jumps. This time, I want to pay attention to my facial expressions, convey the atmosphere of the music, and concentrate on everything.” (Hanyu, speaking before the Four Continents Championships) The “atmosphere of the music” that he wanted to emphasize. This season’s short program contains a number of carefully devised touches that bring that atmosphere to life. First, there are the intricate steps leading into the jumps. The particularly complex series of turns immediately before the triple Axel, for example, not only earns positive grades of execution as a difficult jump takeoff, but is also enjoyable to watch and serves as an excellent embellishment to the program. These sequences were devised by Buttle. “Yes, his jumps are wonderful. He has a natural talent for jumping, and I thought we had to make the most of it. Especially that triple Axel with such a difficult entry! That was something I could never have done when I was competing. I would have loved to demonstrate it myself if I could! (laughs) “At first, I thought it would be fine if he couldn’t manage all those difficult entries, as long as he could incorporate even one of them. But then he tried them all and ended up mastering every single one! At that point, there was no reason not to use them, right? (laughs) Most skaters give up if they try something once and can’t do it. But he keeps working at it until he can do everything… That’s why his jumps ended up being full of difficult entries! (laughs)” (Buttle) The jumps, spins, steps, and all the other elements that count toward the score had been infused with various creative touches. On top of that, the connecting sections that did not directly earn points were also filled with memorable movements. One movement that drew particularly enthusiastic applause at the Four Continents Championships was the one in which Hanyu lowered his hips, bent his right leg, extended his left leg, and glided on his heel. As he thrust both arms straight out in front of him toward the audience, the gesture suited his slightly cheeky personality perfectly, making it one of the program’s highlights. You would think a move like this might have a name of its own, something like the “Ina Bauer”… “Yeah, I don’t know what that move is called, either. You’ll have to ask Jeff!” (Hanyu) “I don’t know, either! (laughs) One day, Yuzuru and I were trying out various movements, and before we knew it, we had both ended up near the edge of the rink. So we thought, why not do something facing the audience from here? The judges are sitting in the best position to see the rink, so we thought we could do something that teased them a little. “It ended up being almost like an exhibition move, didn’t it? (laughs) It was fun to create, too. It wasn’t just eye-catching, but also incorporated turns as he moved, allowing him to show the judges that he was doing something difficult.” (Buttle) The various touches designed to make the program captivating had been built in from the very beginning. Now, six months after the choreography was created, Hanyu had become able to perform them with a natural ease. But what was even more interesting was how differently he seemed to be feeling his way through the two minutes and fifty seconds of the program compared with the NHK Trophy three months earlier. “I really enjoyed the short program at Four Continents this time. From the beginning of the program right up to the Lutz, I had an incredibly good time skating! The only moment I thought, ‘Oh, crap!’ was when I messed up the Lutz. (laughs) But once I finished the last jump, I started enjoying myself again! I was able to skate really comfortably all the way through the final step sequence.” What had it been like at the NHK Trophy? “I landed the opening quadruple jump and the triple Axel. I think my movements were very stiff until I landed the third jump, the triple Lutz–triple toe loop combination. The Lutz–toe is my biggest stumbling block. But once I landed the Lutz, I no longer had to worry about falling! (laughs) I felt so much more relaxed… The audience got into it, too, and I really enjoyed skating!” (Hanyu, speaking after the NHK Trophy short program) At the NHK Trophy, every jump had been clean. At the Four Continents Championships, he had made one mistake. Yet it was the latter competition that had brought the audience to its feet even more enthusiastically. Until all three jumps are landed, a skater is on tenterhooks, with little room to think about presenting the program. This is a perfectly ordinary feeling for a skater performing a short program. Even Hanyu, who at just eighteen could already communicate so much to his audience, was no exception. However expressive he might have appeared, his mind was still occupied with jumps, jumps, and more jumps. I discussed this in my Grand Prix Final report, too. At the NHK Trophy, even as he broke the world record, he was still performing with his thoughts caught up in the jumps. This time, however, things were completely different. He had almost forgotten about the jumps and was able to fully enjoy the program itself. What had happened to change his approach to performance in just two and a half months since the NHK Trophy? “Parisienne Walkways” was already a nearly complete program, having produced a world-record score. What more could he do to show further growth with this music? He had actually given us a glimpse of his experiment at an ice show in January: the Japan Super Challenge, an exhibition match held amid the festive atmosphere of the New Year. At this event, where he was supposed to skate an exhibition number, Hanyu unusually chose to perform his short program instead. This time, however, he failed on every jump: the quadruple, the triple Axel, and the triple–triple combination. Right at the start of the new year, he had made an unprecedented blunder. “Wow, I really messed that one up for the first time in a while. I’m sorry to everyone who came all the way to watch…” (Hanyu, speaking at the Japan Super Challenge) The All-Japan Championships had only just ended, and Hanyu had not yet recovered from his fatigue. People wondered whether even he had let his concentration slip. Some frowned, saying, “If Hanyu does this at the World Championships, he might not even make it to the free skate. At this rate, even Japan’s men’s Olympic quota could be in danger.” Yet while people were puzzling over what had happened, Hanyu calmly explained: “This time, I was trying to make the jumps follow the music, too. The skater who does that well is Daisuke Takahashi. When I tried jumping that way, I messed up every jump… But I felt there was still room for my short program to grow a little more.” So that was what it was about. However tired he might have been, it was hard to believe that Hanyu, known for his jumping ability, would make mistakes on every single jump without a reason. Since this competition did not carry major stakes, he had used it as an opportunity to explore ways to refine his short program further. “Expressing myself through the jumps, too. That was something I tried at the Four Continents Championships as well. I tried to match each jump to the atmosphere of the music so that the jumps would leave a greater impression. When I made the mistake on the Lutz–toe, I lost my concentration a little.” (Hanyu, speaking after the Four Continents short program) At least when it came to the short program, Hanyu had room to spare. Now that he could rely on his jumps to earn the maximum possible points with little cause for concern, he was changing his mindset, too, seeking to make the program even more compelling to watch. Looking at the changes since the first competition of the season and the way the program had developed, Buttle had this to say: “This is the kind of change you see in a skater who is right in the middle of growing. He is not only mastering jumping techniques and other skills, but also deepening his understanding of many aspects of artistry. That is why the program can keep evolving day by day. “To give one example, when you’re young, you tend to think that lots of movement and sharp actions are what make a performance artistic. But as you get older and mature emotionally, you begin to appreciate the power of subtle movements. You don’t need grand gestures to make an impact. Yuzuru seems to have figured that out before long, too. Maybe it’s because David and I have always told him, ‘Less is more.’ (laughs) “He is achieving several kinds of maturity like that through ‘Parisienne Walkways’… It’s truly wonderful to see.” The program had all the ingredients it needed: carefully crafted touches and choreography that suited Hanyu’s individuality. But he was not simply relying on these elements. His own approach to artistic expression had changed, too. With all these elements coming together, “Parisienne Walkways” had become a program that was truly evolving. It was unfortunate that he made a mistake on the combination jump this time, but it will be exciting to see what happens when he skates the program cleanly at his next competition. If he can combine the same technical perfection that earned him the world-record score with the freedom to express himself, there is little doubt that he could break the world record for a third time. And that would give him a tremendous boost toward achieving great glory at the World Championships. For now, the Four Continents Championships short program deserves unreserved praise: “That’s our Japanese national champion!” At least, as far as the short program goes.

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%93 https://web.archive.org/web/20220814000032/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013020100011.html 2013.02.04 Beyond the Dream 13 - All-Japan Championships Report (Part 2) The "headwinds" facing Hanyu Daisuke Takahashi, Japan’s undisputed ace and a five-time Japanese national champion, may have skated his short program while still wrestling with nagging doubts: “What if I fail to make the national team?” Although Yuzuru Hanyu said, “It wasn’t my best, but I enjoyed skating,” he delivered a flawless performance, while Takahashi even had an under-rotation on his quadruple jump. How did the ace take the result of finishing second, 9.64 points behind the leader? Throughout the day and night between the short program and the free skate, it seems that one thought occupied his mind: “I don’t want to lose!” Takahashi took to the ice for the free skate carrying a sense of frustration so intense that it was beyond what anyone else could imagine. “With that kind of point gap… he still hadn’t given up?!” That was what one young coach thought in astonishment when Takahashi landed both of his opening quadruple jumps. “I never knew Dai-chan hated losing this much…” An international judge said he was deeply moved by Takahashi’s passion, which was more raw and exposed than in any competition he had seen before. “I was given quite a big score deficit in the short program, so I had no choice but to go all out. I think that frustration was part of it, too. When you’re nine points behind, all you can do is deliver the best performance you possibly can (laughs).” Skating insiders, journalists, fans: everyone gathered here knows Daisuke Takahashi well. Or so they thought. No one could have imagined that he would fight this desperately, or that his skating could move people so profoundly through such raw emotion. That day, it was as though they were seeing Takahashi’s unwavering resolve for the first time. And what breathtakingly beautiful defiance. “I managed to land both quadruple jumps, and more than anything, I was able to skate with everything I had. The audience responded so warmly and gave me so much support. I finally managed to deliver this kind of performance. I feel that this is my starting point as I head toward Sochi.” In this competition, Hanyu pushed beyond what seemed possible in the short program, while Takahashi did the same in the free skate. In the end, Hanyu won by holding on to the lead he had established in the short program. It was an extraordinary battle that will surely go down in the history of the Japanese National Championships. It was wonderful to see the 26-year-old Takahashi, who had passed his physical peak, keep pace with the dynamic 18-year-old Hanyu and ultimately demonstrate the class of a true ace. Hanyu’s achievement was remarkable, too. He managed to beat Takahashi in a close contest, despite facing a skater who was more accomplished than anyone else, had the title of world champion to his name, and was backed by a well-established support team. Daisuke Takahashi and Yuzuru Hanyu. Everyone could sense that these two were among the strongest contenders for the top spot at both this season’s World Championships and next season’s Olympics. If the two of them were truly determined to win, even Patrick Chan of Canada might not be able to stand in their way. With the thrilling prospect of watching these two battle it out for another year, there is one thing to worry about: whether they will be able to compete on their own terms without being swayed by unnecessary emotions. Hanyu’s rapid rise has made him the target of more hostility than people might realize. The man he must contend with, Daisuke Takahashi, has long been a driving force in Japanese figure skating as the country’s ace and has a huge fan base. Fans and skating insiders who have watched Takahashi grow from the days when he was called someone with a “glass heart” to the present will naturally want him to receive the grandest possible send-off. It seems Hanyu himself is at least somewhat aware of the atmosphere surrounding him. “Winning the Japanese National Championships is a big thing, but… somehow, I can’t feel happy about it wholeheartedly. Right now, I really want to get away from skating.” (Comment made the day after the free skate) In fact, Hanyu had expressed similar feelings after winning the bronze medal at the World Championships. “Actually, there aren’t that many people who can genuinely say to me, ‘Congratulations on the bronze medal,’ and really mean it…” Of course, Hanyu has just as many supporters as Takahashi, and many people are eagerly looking forward to seeing what he will accomplish. And even if he feels a strong headwind against him, perhaps overcoming it is what will make him a true champion. Still, it is sad that an 18-year-old who has only just won his first Japanese national title should feel driven to say, “Even if I become champion, nobody will be happy for me.” Seeing his young pupil looking so dejected despite winning, his coach, Brian Orser, reportedly offered him these words: “When I first became Canadian champion, I beat someone who had been champion for three consecutive years. At the time, a lot of people told me things like, ‘It’s too soon,’ or ‘You’re not worthy of being champion.’ So I understand very well how you feel right now. But if you accept all that pain and frustration, you’ll grow even stronger.” Daisuke Takahashi and Yuzuru Hanyu. Their historic rivalry has already begun. For so long, people have dreamed of seeing Japanese men compete for the top spot in the world. And now we are witnessing a dream scenario in which there is not just one skater aiming for the summit, but two. Neither of them would be satisfied with silver at the World Championships or the Olympics. Even if they finished second in the world, they would say they had lost. Japan has two men who aspire to stand at the very top as though it were only natural. Daisuke Takahashi and Yuzuru Hanyu are putting on a magnificent battle that is unfolding before our eyes right now. I hope they will be able to compete to their hearts’ content, all the way to the end, free from anything that might stand in their way.

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%93 https://web.archive.org/web/20220810143000/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2013013100013.html 2013.02.01 Beyond the Dream 12 - All-Japan Championships Report (Part 2) My true rival, Daisuke Takahashi When I think about the relationship between Daisuke Takahashi and Yuzuru Hanyu, one particular scene immediately comes to mind. This photo was taken at a press conference following the men's free skate at the World Championships in March 2012. Having placed seventh in the short program, Hanyu was attending his first-ever World Championships press conference. He entered the press conference room a little later than the other skaters, but greeted everyone with remarkable energy, saying, “Excuse me!” in Japanese. Perhaps he was a little nervous, too. Not everyone in the press room at an international competition understands Japanese, yet his polite greeting instantly created a welcoming atmosphere for the newcomer. I will never forget the indescribably warm, almost brotherly smile that Daisuke Takahashi gave Hanyu at that moment. One was a 26-year-old veteran with seven World Championships appearances; the other was a 17-year-old making his debut at the event. Despite their considerable age difference, these two skaters would lead the world of figure skating over the next two years, right up to the Sochi Olympics. Seeing them, both Japanese, smiling happily at each other on that grand press conference platform filled me with an indescribable sense of happiness. In less than a year, Hanyu would break the world record in the short program at the NHK Trophy, finishing first ahead of Takahashi in second place. At the Grand Prix Final, Takahashi would win with a new season's best score in the men's event, while Hanyu finished second. I could never have imagined that the two would be going head-to-head at such an extraordinarily high level. Until quite recently, Hanyu had been a heartwarming figure, desperately chasing after Takahashi, who stood far above him. Everyone wanted to cheer on this high school student who was stretching himself to the limit to catch up with one of the greatest skaters in history. People welcomed their refreshing, wholesome rivalry. Yet this skater, who had seemed like the youngest member of Team Japan, had risen from the bottom at an astonishing speed. At just 18, he had been thought too young to catch up with Takahashi so soon. Yet, with a capacity for growth that astonished everyone, he had become a genuine rival to Daisuke Takahashi. Their relationship could no longer be described as merely heartwarming. The two skaters were serious, the teams surrounding them were serious, and so were their supporters. Now facing each other in earnest, one on one, they were undoubtedly setting their sights on Olympic gold. Watching them now, it is clear how much having someone you refuse to lose to can bring out the best in a person. Of course, Takahashi and Hanyu are both outstanding skaters regardless of the circumstances. Yet perhaps it is precisely because “Dai-chan is there” and “Yuzu is there” that they have pushed themselves so hard this season and delivered such remarkable performances at their respective competitions. This was especially evident at the All-Japan Championships. First, let's look at the period leading up to the short program. From the official practice sessions onward, it was none other than Yuzuru Hanyu who overwhelmed everyone around him. He landed his jumps with ease, yet never let his expression soften. There was an intensity to his skating that seemed unbelievable for an 18-year-old. It was astonishing that the youngest skater was radiating so strongly an intensity that one would normally expect to develop only after years of experience and overcoming one difficult situation after another. Even when answering questions from reporters the day before the competition, he stood apart from the other top men's skaters. Some were losing confidence, others were irritable because they were not in good form, and even Takahashi admitted, “I'm feeling more anxious than ever before that I might not make it into the three spots for the World Championships team...” Yet Yuzuru Hanyu alone seemed to be enjoying the All-Japan Championships. “My condition is perfect. Even though this is the All-Japan Championships, what I have to do is the same as always. I'll skate the same program to the same music. I don't want to put too much pressure on myself. I just want to deliver a performance that is definitely better than at the previous competition.” It was not his physical condition or the state of his jumps that mattered most, but how well he had prepared himself mentally for the All-Japan Championships. He was the one who had succeeded most in that respect. He was mentally in a better place than anyone else and ready for the competition. His short program was where he managed to translate that preparation directly into his performance. “I was so nervous that my legs were shaking. But I knew I would be nervous. This season, I've skated almost clean short programs at nearly every competition, and I've trained hard, too. Even though I was nervous, I wanted to skate with confidence.” Before taking to the ice, he looked more anxious than usual. He stood alone in the center of the rink with a frightening expression, as if even the atmosphere around him were charged with hostility. The composure he had shown the day before, along with the impression that he was enjoying the All-Japan Championships, had disappeared. Yet on this day, Hanyu had the ability to control that overwhelming tension. In the first half of the program, his taut nerves were reflected directly in his skating, as he executed his jumps with the sharpness of a blade. But perhaps it was around the time he landed his second jump, the triple Axel, that something began to change. As though he were plunging deeper into the world of the music, his movements became increasingly free and fluid. His short program, “Parisienne Walkways,” had attracted attention since the beginning of the season by earning him remarkably high scores. It was a program that symbolized Hanyu this season. Years from now, it would surely be remembered as one of his signature programs. He had gradually refined this memorable work, competition by competition, up to this point. It was impressive that he managed to showcase this evolution of the program at the All-Japan Championships, the competition that drew the greatest attention from the Japanese public. His quadruple toe loop, now among the lightest and most effortless in the world; the mature atmosphere of the blues; the intricate footwork in his step sequence: every element demonstrated how much he had grown over the past year. All his momentum and potential were condensed into those two minutes and fifty seconds. “There was a tension unique to the All-Japan Championships, but I wouldn't say I was overly nervous just because it was the All-Japan Championships. On the contrary, because it was a competition in Japan, the audience cheered me on all the way to the end and gave me that extra push. The All-Japan Championships... I thought, ‘This is such a fun place to skate!’” Hanyu had managed to do something that is among the most difficult things for a skater: enjoy competing at the All-Japan Championships. And he had done so in his short program. Yet that very performance from Hanyu brought out Daisuke Takahashi's pride and fighting spirit.

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%91%E3%83%BB%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%92 https://web.archive.org/web/20220809004407/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012122800006.html 2012.12.31 Beyond the Dream 11 - Grand Prix Final Report (Extra Edition) The true face of Sochi, the Olympic host city The 2012 Grand Prix Final was held in Sochi, in Russia's Krasnodar Krai. With Sochi set to host the Winter Olympics in about a year, this Grand Prix Final served as a test event for figure skating. However, a test event does not mean an Olympic qualifying competition, nor would the results have any bearing on the actual Olympics. It was simply a preliminary event held in the same facilities as the Games, intended to ensure that the competition could be run smoothly. The host city, Sochi. To be honest, the athletes, officials and members of the press arrived with considerable apprehension. I remembered an athlete who, after the Vancouver Olympics, was asked whether they would continue competing through to Sochi. "If the host city had been in Canada again, I might have felt like giving it another shot. But Russia..." they replied. The conditions in the host city matter enormously, not only to the athletes and the Japanese team, but also to us members of the press and the fans who travel to support them. Safety, prices, food, the atmosphere of the city, the organization of the competition... The closer everything is to the environments in which people normally train and live, the less anxious they feel. Among figure skating competitions held in North America, Europe and Asia, the Russian Cup in Moscow is said to be relatively unpopular with Japanese skaters. And Sochi, of all places. I could not recall any major international figure skating competitions ever having been held there. Almost no Japanese athletes or officials had ever been to Sochi. Even the Russian pair who had won the NHK Trophy told me, "We haven't been there either." Just what kind of formidable place was this going to be? As soon as I arrived, Sochi proved even more difficult to deal with than I had imagined. First of all, there were the airport taxis. I arrived in Sochi at midnight, and a taxi was the only way to get to my hotel (the athletes could take buses arranged by the International Skating Union). Yet the fare quoted for a distance of just one kilometer was an astonishing 12,000 rubles. That was about 33,000 yen! What made it worse was that this was not some obviously shady, unlicensed taxi driver soliciting passengers. The car had been directed to me by a female airport employee in uniform. Twelve thousand rubles... For a moment, I nearly got confused, wondering whether I was supposed to divide rubles by four to convert them into yen. But if I paid the asking price, Sochi would have beaten me right from the start. After making a considerable fuss, mostly in Japanese, I eventually got the fare down to 2,000 rubles. Even that was 5,400 yen. It was still a rip-off. "That's no good! You have to make sure the taxi has a meter!" I was scolded over the phone from Japan. But in all nine days I spent in Sochi, I did not see a single taxi with a meter! Even after that harsh welcome, the troubles continued. Hardly anyone in the city spoke English, there was nowhere to exchange Japanese yen, stray dogs roamed the streets and apparently one reporter had been attacked, traffic was horrendous (a journey that should have taken 20 minutes took an hour and a half), and the hotel's internet connection was down for more than two days. The list went on. Complaints about Sochi flew back and forth almost every day among those of us who had come from Japan. There were also reports that the athletes' hotel was old and dirty. In fact, the hotel was a sanatorium where people undergoing long-term recuperation stayed, and apparently all the guests other than those connected with the competition were elderly. Sochi, known as one of Russia's premier resort destinations, was also an ideal place for recuperation, with its hot springs and restorative climate. The city reportedly had more than 50 sanatoriums. Large hotels and the Olympic Village were under construction in preparation for the Games, but there were still no hotels capable of accommodating large numbers of people. As a result, a large sanatorium had been assigned as the athletes' hotel. Meanwhile, the hotel where many members of the press were staying had opened only two weeks earlier. It was brand-new and sparkling clean, but it was so new that it lacked facilities such as vending machines and ATMs. There were not even any restaurants or general stores nearby. If I had to name one good thing about arriving in Sochi, it was that the weather was much warmer than I had expected. Figure skating officials are well acquainted with the bitter cold of Moscow in winter. While buying more HEATTECH clothing at UNIQLO in Narita Airport, I ran into someone I knew who was boarding the same flight. I had also brought plenty of disposable hand warmers. But in Sochi, no special cold-weather gear was needed at all. The first thing I said when I stepped off the plane was, "It's not cold!" It was that warm. People walking around the city wore light coats, and the temperature was about what you would expect in Japan in October. Figure skating competitions are often held in cold cities during the coldest time of year, so the warmth was a real relief. An environment in which the athletes' bodies would not get chilled was surely beneficial for their condition, too. I was glad to hear that temperatures in February, when the Olympics would be held, were expected to be much the same. One might expect Sochi to be a resort town worthy of its reputation as one of Russia's finest. Yet the area around the athletes' hotel, in Sochi's Adler district, was little different from an ordinary Russian town, apart from the slightly tropical-looking trees and plants. Even allowing for the off-season, it was disappointing that there was virtually none of the atmosphere one would associate with a resort. And then there were the Olympic facilities themselves. All the ice sports, including figure skating, speed skating and ice hockey, were to be held at the Sochi Olympic Park, under construction on reclaimed land in the eastern part of Sochi. The park was about a 20-minute shuttle bus ride from central Adler when traffic was clear, but I could hardly believe my eyes when I first saw the Olympic Park. Several facilities had already been completed, including the Iceberg venue for figure skating and short track speed skating, and the Bolshoy Ice Palace for ice hockey. Test events were already being held there. But there was no sign of the surrounding facilities, including the Olympic Village and hotels. The vast expanse of reclaimed land looked like nothing but an enormous pile of rubble. "Will they make it in time...?" Faced with the appalling state of the site, people were left speechless as they snapped photographs. It was an enormous construction site on a scale unlike anything I had ever seen. In Japan, no one other than construction workers would ever be allowed to set foot in a place like this. Yet shuttle buses kept arriving, dropping off well-dressed spectators into the middle of it all. It was a truly surreal sight. The railway connecting the city center to the venues had only just been completed and was not yet operating. The shuttle bus was the only way to get from the city to the Olympic Park. (a sports newspaper reporter who tried to make the journey on foot was attacked by stray dogs) Four years earlier, during the pre-Olympic season, I had visited the Vancouver Olympic venues for the Four Continents Championships. But Vancouver was an environmentally friendly Olympics that made use of existing facilities rather than constructing new buildings. This was my first time visiting a host city while preparations were still underway on such a scale. There was little to do but stare in amazement. According to a reporter who also covered the Summer Olympics, however, Athens had looked much the same a year before the 2004 Games. "Will Sochi be ready in time?" It probably would be. At the Russian Cup held in Moscow every year, rink maintenance continued even as the skaters began their official practice sessions, to the point where they risked stepping on hammers and nails. Yet by the first day of competition, everything would be ready and running smoothly. In 2011, when the World Championships scheduled to take place in Tokyo were canceled because of the earthquake, it was Russia that stepped in to host the replacement event just one month later. "I used to think Russia was the only country that could pull off something like this!" said Yuko Kavaguti, a member of Russia's national pairs team, with a laugh. Putting those thoughts aside, I entered the newly completed Iceberg Skating Palace, the figure skating venue. Security checks were stricter than any I had experienced before. Women underwent body searches by female security staff every day. Water bottles were inspected, and even the IC recorder in my pocket was repeatedly switched on for inspection as the guards asked, "What is this?" It was exasperating, but I suppose it could not be helped. Inside, everything was sparkling clean, as one would expect, and the white-and-light-blue design was popular with the athletes. But why did the elevators keep breaking down when the building had only just been completed? And why were the toilet locks already broken, leaving the doors unable to close? "Well, this is Russia!" Faced with those words from a smiling staff member, all I could do was smile wryly in return. "But there seemed to be so few spectators, considering the Final was being held in Sochi!" I was asked this by people who had watched the television broadcast in Japan, but that, too, was understandable. For the people of Sochi, a city that had never hosted an international figure skating competition, the sport was not particularly familiar. Major competitions are often advertised with posters plastered all over town and banners displayed in the streets. This time, however, the only place where I saw anything resembling publicity for the Grand Prix Final was Sochi Airport. Most local residents did not even know the Final was taking place. The majority of the spectators had come from Moscow and other parts of Russia as figure skating fans, along with the devoted Japanese skating fans who travel anywhere in the world to cheer on their favorites. As an aside, Russian skating fans are remarkably similar to Japanese skating fans. At hotels in Moscow, I sometimes come across gatherings of Russian fans surrounding Johnny Weir. The devoted fans who follow skaters all the way back to their hotels tend to be Japanese or Russian. They passionately support not only their own country's skaters but also any skaters they happen to like, regardless of nationality. Of course, they are equally enthusiastic about their own athletes. The banners displayed in the arena to support individual skaters were most numerous for Japanese skaters, followed by Russian skaters. Compared with North America, where there are many older fans of both sexes, and China, where families come together to watch competitions, Russia, like Japan, also has a high proportion of female spectators. Yet another similarity between Japan and Russia is the occasional intensely devoted male fan. This time, on the shuttle bus, I found myself listening to a Russian male fan expound at length on his views of the skaters. Astonishingly, he even knew the point difference between Akiko Suzuki and Mao Asada at the NHK Trophy. When we expressed our surprise, he declared, “I'm Wikipedia!” Even among Russian skating fans, however, only a limited number could make the journey from Moscow to Sochi. There were few local spectators, and the Japanese contingent was smaller than at competitions in North America or Asia. As a result, the stands looked somewhat sparse, and the military was even brought in to fill empty seats in the upper levels. But in today's world, it is actually Japan, where arenas fill up for practically every competition, that is unusual by international standards. Amid all this, the one thing that created an atmosphere worthy of the Olympics and lifted our spirits was the smiles of the staff directing spectators around the venue. At international competitions in Russia, staff are usually rather unfriendly and unhelpful. Sometimes soldiers with bayonets hanging from their belts patrol the arena, which can be a little intimidating. This time, however, the volunteers who would also be responsible for security and venue operations during the actual Olympics greeted everyone cheerfully with “Zdravstvuyte!” (“Hello!”). They were already wearing the vivid official Sochi Olympics uniforms. When these men and women smiled, the place already felt like the Olympics. There were even moments when volunteers caught athletes backstage to ask for autographs or request photographs. That, too, was part of the atmosphere. The festivities had already begun. Although it was still impossible to see what the completed Olympic Village would look like, the designs of the venues and other finished structures were quite striking. Particularly impressive was the monument at the entrance to the Olympic Park, where five enormous Olympic rings in different colors appeared to pierce the earth. It was a magnificent sight, worthy of a global sporting event. Once everything was finished, the area would surely create a spectacular landscape along the Black Sea. "Doesn't it look as if an atomic bomb has been dropped here?" Even the Russians joked about the scene, though it was hardly something to laugh about. How would this place look a year from now? After the Grand Prix Final ended, I had to remain in Sochi for about two days before returning home because I could not get a flight ticket. Flights between Moscow and Narita were not a problem, but there were so few flights between Sochi and Moscow that many people involved in the competition ended up returning home one or two days later than the athletes. The other reporters seemed to have joined media tours to cover ski events being held as test events or to visit the Olympic facilities in the mountains. Since I cover only skating, I decided to explore the streets of Sochi as much as time allowed. Sochi is a long, narrow city squeezed between the Black Sea and the Caucasus Mountains, stretching 145 kilometers from east to west. It is known as the longest city in Europe. The area I explored was only a small part of the Adler district, where the Olympics would be held. Apparently, when people refer to "Sochi," they usually mean the Central District of Sochi, farther to the west. According to the locals, "This isn't Sochi. This is Adler." Even so, there was not an enormous amount to see in central Sochi either. During the Olympics, the athletes and their supporters would probably spend most of their time in Adler. The budget hotel where I was staying did not have any maps, so I went all the way to an official hotel just to obtain one. The only map I managed to get was written entirely in Cyrillic, without even a word of English. It was a map of a city that apparently had not expected visitors from outside Russia. "This is all we've got for now! Ha, ha, ha!" the concierge laughed. At least he marked the location of my hotel, the way to Adler Beach and the location of what was said to be the city's largest shopping center. As I wandered around Adler, I found virtually no Olympic decorations, either around the beach or near the shopping center, which was more like a market. The only Olympic merchandise I came across was plush toys of the mascots, a polar bear, a hare and a snow leopard, along with other souvenirs. They were on sale in beach souvenir shops and even in a corner of a supermarket, so I bought a few. Adler Beach, overlooking the Black Sea, was less than a ten-minute walk from the athletes' hotel. It had rained frequently during the competition, and although the weather was warm, the days had been mostly overcast. But on a sunny Monday, the weather was lovely and mild. Astonishingly, even though it was December and the tourist season was over, a few people were swimming quite happily! Others were sunbathing on the sunny beach or on the breakwater, while elderly couples strolled along and parents walked with their children. There were quite a lot of people out and about despite it being a weekday, so the beach did not feel lonely or deserted in winter. The beach itself was not beautiful enough to be called a white-sand beach, and the Black Sea, as its name suggests, looked rather dark, lacking the bright colors of a tropical sea. But far to the west, the snow-covered Caucasus Mountains rose magnificently in the distance. It was a rare luxury to be able to swim while gazing at snow-capped peaks. And the souvenir shops along the beach were selling Winter Olympics merchandise... Why was the Winter Olympics being held in a place like this? It was a rather strange sight. The town's markets and supermarkets stocked practically everything one could need, from food to everyday household goods, and the selection was more than adequate. Depending on the neighborhood, there were also convenience-store-like shops open 24 hours a day throughout the city, where most daily necessities could be found. I looked around for something suitable to take home as a souvenir from Sochi and learned that the city was known as Russia's only tea-growing region. Krasnodar tea, grown at the highest latitude in the world for tea cultivation, was said to be almost impossible to find in other Russian cities. In other words, it might be difficult to find anywhere outside Sochi! Intrigued by its rarity, I decided to buy some. In Russian, tea is called chai. When I asked “Chai?” in a supermarket, someone gestured for me to follow them to the tea section. But I had no idea which product was Krasnodar tea. Russians seemed to love tea, and the shelves were stocked with Indian black tea, Japanese green tea and even Chinese pu'er tea, including compressed tea in coin-shaped cakes rather than tea bags. When I asked, "Krasnodar chai?" a kindly-looking middle-aged woman lit up with delight. "This whole section, from here to here, is Krasnodar chai," she explained, using enthusiastic gestures. There was both black and green tea, available as loose leaves and in tea bags. The prices were reasonable, starting at 100 rubles for 100 grams of loose tea. It made an excellent souvenir, especially since I could also share a few interesting facts about tea production in Sochi when giving it to someone. Krasnodar Krai is Russia's leading agricultural region, so tea is far from its only specialty. Worried about vitamin deficiencies, I bought local grapes, plums and pears from a greengrocer every day. They were delicious enough to eat with their skins on. The seafood from the Black Sea was also excellent, including sardines wrapped in bacon that I ate at a restaurant. Come to think of it, the food in general suited Japanese tastes quite well. The borscht I ate in the arena's lounge, the beef stroganoff at the hotel, and the chicken cutlets and stuffed cabbage I bought from the supermarket deli were all good. There was also a bakery in town with a huge oven. Its freshly baked or cooled-down pirozhki, pizza, chebureki (fried pastries filled with minced meat) and trubochki (cream-filled pastries shaped like tubes) were delicious and became a great help during our demanding workdays. There were even several decent Japanese restaurants, although, since they were not run by Japanese people, some of the dishes were rather unusual. I encountered yakisoba made with buckwheat noodles and a dessert consisting of fruit sauce wrapped in gyoza wrappers, for example. When it came to food, Sochi seemed far less worrying than some European cities where I had had terrible experiences, or Moscow, where prices were exorbitant. As long as the athletes brought a reasonable supply of Japanese food, they would probably be able to manage for several weeks. Japanese cuisine was also enjoying a boom in Russia, and if necessary, supermarkets even sold kits for preparing sushi and miso soup at home. When I first arrived, and throughout the hectic days of the competition, I had done little but complain. But once I got used to the place, I realized that daily life was not particularly inconvenient and the food was quite decent. Above all, the warm climate made it easier to get out and explore. I also began to realize that the local people were as laid-back and friendly as the climate itself. Despite being a resort destination, Sochi was visited mainly by Russians. English was hardly understood, but people were kind and made a sincere effort to explain directions or strike up conversations. Just how little English did they understand? Even "I left my room key in my room" failed to get through. That was the situation even at the hotel reception desk. The Grand Prix Final had brought the Japanese team, a contingent of supporters and nearly 100 members of the press to Sochi. It was probably one of the largest influxes of Japanese visitors in the city's history. "Where are you from?" "We're Japanese." "What are Japanese people doing here?" "There's going to be an Olympics here, right? This is a test event, and there's a figure skating competition..." "Oh, it's happening now? I'd like to go!" "Sorry, it ended yesterday." I had variations of this conversation countless times, communicating through the one receptionist who spoke a little English. It seemed that Japanese people were quite a novelty here. I heard that of Sochi's population of 390,000, only eight Japanese people were registered as residents. Everyone wondered where those eight people could possibly be. Despite spending nine days in Sochi, I never encountered a single Japanese resident. It was not just Japanese people who seemed to be absent. Even Chinese people, who can be found practically anywhere in the world, seemed rare in this city. Come to think of it, I had not once been greeted with the familiar "Ni hao!" Despite us being such unusual visitors, the locals were friendly. After visiting the same bakery and greengrocer for several days, I had become familiar with the women who worked there, as well as the woman who cleaned my hotel room. When I showed the receptionist who had explained how to get to the beach the photographs I had taken of the Black Sea, she was delighted. "You did it! You actually made it there!" As I was leaving, I gave them some Japanese rice crackers and kaki no tane (small, spicy rice crackers shaped like persimmon seeds). They looked astonishingly pleased and exclaimed, "Oh! Japanese snacks!" Perhaps it was the Japanese food boom after all. I found myself wishing I had brought more. On another day, I struck up a conversation with a mother and child I met while walking along Adler Beach. They invited me to their home, where they treated me to coffee and chocolate. The woman was from Uzbekistan and had moved to Sochi with her family in the spring of 2012. Her husband worked for a Turkish construction company and had been temporarily assigned to supervise construction of the Olympic venues. Their apartment was a rather lovely high-rise with panoramic views of the Black Sea and the Olympic Park under construction. We ate mandarins while she entertained her two-year-old son, Amir, and she told me about various things, including how lonely she felt because her husband had so few days off. "When the facilities are finished, we'll probably move to Moscow as a family. Without ever seeing the Olympics." In just nine days, simply through these little encounters with the locals, Sochi had begun to show me a more familiar face. It had become like a friend, a city that felt welcoming and approachable. The city was still far from being in full Olympic mode. But once the switch was flipped, I was sure the locals would warmly welcome visitors from all over the world. The athletes, too, seemed to have had little time to explore the city this time, spending their days going back and forth between the hotel and the rink. Perhaps they would return home remembering only the inconveniences and dreading the thought of coming back to Sochi. But Sochi was simply a little shy. At first, it was wary of the strangers who had suddenly arrived. Once you got to know it, however, it would show you a bright, cheerful smile. When the athletes returned for the next competition, to face what might be the greatest contest of their lives, a once-in-a-lifetime battle, Sochi would surely reveal its true face and help ease their tension. From the hotel to Sochi Airport, I took one last taxi. For the same distance that I had been quoted 12,000 rubles for eight days earlier, the driver charged me just 300 rubles. Sochi doesn't scare me anymore.

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%90 https://web.archive.org/web/20220818132400/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012122800008.html 2012.12.29 Beyond the Dream 10 - All-Japan Championships Report (Part 1) “Wait for Me, Yuzuru Hanyu!” “Men’s skaters, you know, were chatting away in the locker room even though it was almost time for the final group at the Japanese Nationals. They looked like they were having fun, all getting along so well! The women, on the other hand, were so tense. Not a single person was saying a word!” These were the words of one of the leading women's skaters at the time, describing the atmosphere at the 2004 Japanese National Championships. That was what Japanese men's figure skating was like as recently as eight years ago. The main attraction was, of course, the women's competition, featuring Shizuka Arakawa, Miki Ando and Mao Asada. For example, the promotional poster for the 2004 Japanese National Championships broadcast prominently displayed the slogan, “The Golden Age of Japanese Figure Skating Has Arrived.” Yet the photographs told a different story. Ten women were lined up, led by Fumie Suguri and including Arakawa, Ando, and the Asada sisters, Mai and Mao. The men, meanwhile, were represented by only tiny headshots of Takeshi Honda and Daisuke Takahashi, almost as if they had been squeezed in as an afterthought. But what about this year, 2012? Open a newspaper and headlines such as “A Battle Among Many Contenders: All Eyes on the Men” leap out at you. You might even find yourself surprised to see a page featuring one photograph of a woman and four of men. And it wasn't just a matter of publicity. Of the 30 women competing, only three had reached the podium in this season's Grand Prix Series. Among the men, by contrast, there were six: Daisuke Takahashi, Yuzuru Hanyu, Takahiko Kozuka, Nobunari Oda, Tatsuki Machida and Takahito Mura. Yet only three of them would be selected to represent Japan at the World Championships. “There's a real possibility I might not make it into those three spots. I've never felt such a strong sense of urgency before.” (Daisuke Takahashi) The men's singles event at the 2012 Japanese National Championships was undoubtedly the toughest domestic championship in the world. In fact, it might even have been the most grueling domestic championship in history. The main focus, the battle for the title, seemed to have narrowed to Daisuke Takahashi and Yuzuru Hanyu. But there was far more to watch than just that one contest. First, there was the battle for third place among Takahiko Kozuka, Nobunari Oda, Tatsuki Machida and Takahito Mura. Kozuka and Oda were former Japanese national champions, while Machida and Mura had both won Grand Prix Series events that season. Moreover, Kozuka had defeated Hanyu to win Skate America, and Machida had beaten Takahashi to win the Cup of China. It would hardly have been fair to dismiss their contest as merely a “battle for third place.” Even so, the two skaters who had finished first and second ahead of Patrick Chan at the Grand Prix Final seemed unlikely to be knocked off the podium. That left four men competing for the one remaining spot. Unfortunately, Kozuka and Machida, who had both been competing in successive events following the Grand Prix Final, were dealing with problems of their own: pain in their feet and issues with their skates, respectively. Neither made any official comments about these setbacks, and neither used them as excuses for a poor performance. Nevertheless, after delivering free skates that were not merely their worst of the season but among the most disastrous performances I had seen from them in several years, they must have been bitterly disappointed. “(My jump mistakes) probably came down to a lack of fighting spirit. I managed to pull things together somehow in the short program, but the free skate wasn't so forgiving. I wanted to make sure I did everything I could, properly and carefully, right through to the end. I feel that I did my best, so right now, I don't know what more I could have done. It was a painful experience, a sobering one... I wonder what will happen from here, but I'll draw on the inner strength of Takahiko Kozuka and start over again.” (Kozuka) “I had a lot of things working against me and made a lot of mistakes, but I have no regrets. I feel that I put everything I could do at this point in time into my performance. My skating still isn't enough to fully convey to everyone what I want to express, though... Starting today, I'll shift my focus to next season and work toward that. As you saw in the Kiss and Cry, I have so many coaches I respect and such wonderful teammates. I want to work even harder next season together with my team.” (Machida) In addition to these two, there was Daisuke Murakami, who had dislocated his shoulder at the NHK Trophy and, to his great disappointment, had to withdraw from this competition as well. Let us hope that next year we will finally see all of them compete at the Japanese National Championships in full health. Meanwhile, Nobunari Oda and Takahito Mura put up strong performances. From the official practice sessions onward, Oda was landing his jumps in better form than anyone else. Even during the preliminary interviews, where he would usually keep his eyes lowered, he looked directly at the camera and the person asking the questions as he answered. His manner conveyed a tremendous fighting spirit. He made jump errors in both the short and free programs, but he was also one of the few skaters to land a clean quadruple jump in the free skate. He finished fourth overall. His youthful appearance makes it easy to forget, but at 25, he was only a year younger than Takahashi. He was a veteran whose physical stamina was a concern, yet he still looked capable of working hard toward next season. “This time, I was in the position of having to challenge the others. It was a competition where I strongly felt that I was being tested. Because I made mistakes, I'd give my performance 50 points, but I was glad that I landed the quad in the free skate after missing it in the short program. Coming back from injury, I was surprised by how high everyone's level was, but that also pushed me to challenge myself. From now on, I need to work seriously on mental training as well as my physical stamina.” (Oda) And the man who spectacularly seized the “third spot” was Takahito Mura. By the summer, it had been obvious to everyone that Machida and Oda were building up their form nicely. But it was genuinely impossible to predict that Mura, who had even admitted, “When I watch Yuzuru and Tatsuki, I feel like I'm the only one falling behind...,” would come this far. The turning point must have been his victory at the Trophée Éric Bompard in France in November. It was a competition featuring an extraordinary field: the European champion, the Grand Prix Final champion and the world champion were all there. “Before the season started, I didn't think I could stand up there (on the Japanese Nationals podium). But everything changed after my mistakes at Skate Canada and my victory in France. I realized that competitions are all about momentum. If I'm in good condition, I can take advantage of that momentum, but I can also get swept along by it. The important thing is not to lose to that momentum. If things start heading in the wrong direction, it's about how I can use the training I've done to get myself back on track.” (Mura) Confidence and experience. They are tremendous sources of strength for men who compete. By the end of this competition, Mura had become almost a different person from the skater he had been in the summer, at least mentally. He showed both the power of his jumps, the strength he already possessed, and the smoothness of movement, the fluidity he had gradually developed over the past few years. He demonstrated both sides of his skating convincingly and finished third overall. His selection for the Four Continents Championships as well as the World Championships was surely a sign of the high expectations placed on him. Should anything happen to Takahashi or Hanyu, Mura would face the pressure of securing an Olympic quota spot for Japan for the Sochi Olympics. He would have to become much, much stronger by March. Moreover, the fact that Mura, rather than Kozuka or Oda, both regulars at the World Championships, had claimed the third and final spot appeared to have a significant psychological impact on Japanese men's skating as a whole. If the three representatives had been chosen from among the current world medalists Takahashi and Hanyu, and the Olympic veterans Kozuka and Oda, everyone might have concluded that the gap between the top four and everyone else was simply too wide. But Mura had forced his way into that group. For Tatsuki Machida and the skaters coming up behind him, including the juniors, he had shown that reaching that podium was not just a dream. The “top six” who had excelled in the Grand Prix Series were not the only ones making their mark. Two skaters who had been following in their footsteps, Kento Nakamura, a third-year student at Rikkyo University, and Akio Sasaki, a fourth-year student at Meiji University, finally showed what they were capable of, delivering performances that made them pump their fists in triumph. For skating fans, perhaps nothing was more gratifying than seeing these two succeed. Akio Sasaki, who finished seventh in the short program and eighth overall, was a skater with a large fan base thanks to his dance-driven performances, which came close to rivaling Daisuke Takahashi's. He was talented enough to have been selected alongside Mura to represent Japan at the World Junior Championships. Yet his results at the Japanese National Championships had remained disappointing, with 16th place in 2010 and 14th in 2011. “Even so, we want to see Akio skate!” Supported by fans who voiced sentiments like these, Sasaki took the initiative and asked to perform in ice shows in August and September that year. In the ice-show world, organizers generally approach skaters who have achieved good results in competitions, so his proactive approach was highly unusual. Through the stage he had worked so hard to secure, he renewed his conviction: There are people waiting to see me. There are people who are happy when they see me skate. This year, starting with the Tokyo Championships and the Eastern Japan Championships, the qualifying competitions for the Japanese Nationals, he had been landing triple Axels one after another. At last, he had shown his true self: Akio Sasaki, the skater who could both dance and jump. Another skater who had long seemed a promising talent who never quite fulfilled his potential, Kento Nakamura, had also undergone a remarkable change in attitude this season. Plagued by injuries and a late bloomer who had worked hard to improve, he had nevertheless been described for years as a skater whose delicate appearance reflected his weakness in competition, someone who struggled to deliver when it mattered. “What changed me was Yuzu (Yuzuru Hanyu). I went to Toronto in the summer and spent a long time training with him. I feel that I learned firsthand what really makes him so strong. And the person who made me want to express more through my performances was Machida. Watching the way he presented himself in the Grand Prix Series, I thought, ‘This is it!’ I realized, ‘This is how much I need to show!’” Even when Nakamura found himself among the six skaters in the final group, in a situation where all five of the others had won Grand Prix Series events, he reportedly remained calm. “I'm not here by luck. I'm not here to simply let them show me what they've got. I'm skating because I'm someone who belongs here.” Who would have imagined that a skater who had long been nicknamed the “wimpy prince” would demonstrate such strength of mind? Something extraordinary was happening in Japanese men's figure skating. The performances of these two skaters, who had not even competed in the Grand Prix Series, were proof of that. People's attention might inevitably gravitate toward the two leading contenders. But no one could say what new stars might emerge before next season, the Olympic season in Sochi. Just as Machida and Mura had suddenly attracted widespread attention this year, skaters aspiring to become the seventh or eighth man in the hierarchy had used this competition to demonstrate how much they had grown. And there was no shortage of future stars among the younger skaters, either. Alongside the battle for places on Japan's senior World Championships team, a fierce contest for the World Junior Championships team was also unfolding beneath the surface. Ryūju Hino and Keiji Tanaka, both third-year high school students the same age as Yuzuru Hanyu, and Shoma Uno, a third-year junior high school student three years younger, were the contenders. Hino, who had outperformed the other two at the Japanese Junior Championships and the Grand Prix Final, was all but assured of a place. Tanaka and Uno were competing for the remaining spot. Tanaka had lost to the younger Uno at the Japanese Junior Championships and made mistakes in the short program at this event, putting his selection in jeopardy. But in the free skate, he delivered a spirited performance for the first time in a while and held on to his position. The drama unfolding among these young skaters was every bit as compelling, and the battle was so close that it seemed a shame for it to be overshadowed by the senior competition. When these three eventually move up into the senior ranks a few years from now, an even more grueling era will surely lie ahead. These three were not the only men whose future development was worth watching. Taichi Honda, a second-year junior high school student who finished 14th and won the newcomer award, and Sei Kawahara, a second-year high school student who had already landed quadruple jumps and finished 17th, were among those showing promise. Then there were novice skaters who were too young to compete at the Japanese National Championships this year, such as Sota Yamamoto, a third-year junior high school student, and Taichiro Yamakuma, a sixth-grade elementary school student. They, too, must have watched the competition with sparkling eyes, imagining themselves standing on this very stage next year. When asked who their favorite skaters were, half answered, “Daisuke Takahashi!” and the other half said, “Yuzuru Hanyu!” I was surprised by how much the number of skaters naming Hanyu had increased over the past year. The boys would casually say things to one another like, “He's really popular among us these days!” How many young skaters, upon seeing the 18-year-old standing at the top of the podium, set their sights on him, thinking, "Just you wait, Yuzuru Hanyu!"? Would it be too soon to say that one of them might already be looking forward to the day they could defeat Yuzuru Hanyu? From top to bottom, there had been battles for the title, for team selections, for a place among the top six, and for spots on the junior team. Whichever way you looked at it, the men's singles event at the Japanese National Championships had reached unprecedented heights of activity and excitement. The current golden age of Japanese men's figure skating was, of course, the result of many different factors and the efforts of many people. But the two skaters who had provided the greatest inspiration and continued to push their fellow competitors forward more powerfully than anyone else were Daisuke Takahashi and Yuzuru Hanyu. The title of Japanese national champion was an honor that nothing else could replace. How did these two fight for it?

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%99 https://web.archive.org/web/20220521164135/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012122700014.html 2012.12.28 Beyond the Dream 9 - Grand Prix Final Report (Part 2) Words spoken with resolve “Whether I can win or not is secondary now. What matters is how much I can pull myself up in the free skate after the frustration of this short program. I’ve always had to work on that because the short program is my weak point. So I think I’ll be able to enjoy the competition.” With those reassuring words, Hanyu took to the ice for the free skate the following day. Not only did he himself feel that he could “enjoy it,” but the way the competition unfolded made it thoroughly enjoyable for those of us watching, too. First, his training partner in Toronto, Spain’s Javier Fernández (fifth in the short program), landed three quadruple jumps in his free skate and racked up an overwhelming technical score of 95.93 points. This was the highest technical score in the Grand Prix Series that season, with the next highest being Fernández’s own 85.15 points at Skate Canada. His performance immediately made the outcome of the competition far more exciting. Now things were getting serious. Although Hanyu had a seven-point lead from the short program, he was in a tough spot unless he landed his jumps cleanly. If he skated as he had at Skate America, he wouldn’t even be able to catch Patrick Chan or Daisuke Takahashi, let alone beat Javier. Against that backdrop, his opening jump was a quadruple toe loop of magnificent height! It earned a Grade of Execution (GOE) of +2.71, the highest GOE awarded to any element across all disciplines and events at this competition. It was so light and high that six of the nine judges gave it +3, while the other three gave it +2. A GOE of +2.71 for a jump was extraordinary, matching the +2.71 Patrick Chan had earned for his quadruple jump at the Rostelecom Cup in November. “How can someone with such a skinny, lanky body jump like that?!” People were saying things like that. Yet Hanyu’s quadruple toe loop, which he considers a jump he has already mastered, requires almost no force. In fact, at takeoff, he naturally and effortlessly releases the tension in his shoulders, where unnecessary force tends to build up, before springing into the air. Watching this quadruple jump brings back something he said four years earlier, around the time he first mastered the triple Axel. “I somehow got the hang of the triple Axel by watching Mao-chan do her Axels. I thought, ‘Oh, you don’t actually need that much strength for it.’” He has accumulated countless such realizations, one after another. He must have picked up the secrets of jumping from various skaters in various situations, gradually acquiring the quadruple jump we see today. It was a shame that his subsequent quadruple Salchow became a double, but from that point on, he was virtually mistake-free. He included two high-scoring Axels and two Lutzes among his triple jumps, performed the maximum permitted number of combination jumps, and even raised both arms on a double toe loop combination he executed with ease. He left no openings in the way he racked up points, earning an impressive second place in the free skate. Although he could not catch Daisuke Takahashi, who had built a lead in the short program, he achieved more than enough. For the first time, he finished ahead of reigning world champion Patrick Chan. “Beat Patrick? To be honest... it hasn’t really sunk in. I came second, so I don’t feel like I’ve beaten him at all!” Compared with his previous two competitions, the short program had been disappointing. Whatever Hanyu himself thought of it, his free skate received more than enough praise. The two days appeared to be polar opposites. Yet, viewed from a different angle, Hanyu was showing remarkably similar growth in both the short program and the free skate. In Notre-Dame de Paris, his free skate, just as in the short program, he remained remarkably composed. By controlling the entire four-and-a-half-minute performance, he succeeded in conveying a profound appreciation of the music, bringing his movements into harmony with it. This was different from the overflowing passion he had displayed until then. The circular steps immediately after the Salchow that became a double conveyed his fighting spirit without forcing his intensity onto the audience. Instead, he took his time and let his technical skill speak for itself. In the slower section that followed, he caught his breath while carefully varying the pace and intensity of his movements, never giving the impression that he was resting. He made the dramatic choreography as dramatic as it could be, showed his strength to the fullest where the music called for it, and then, with a leisurely Ina Bauer, allowed the audience to breathe a sigh of relief. Feeling the music, carefully pouring his emotions into his movements, and then feeling the music again as he moved... Within the grandeur of music so immense that a skater can easily be swallowed up by it without knowing how to ride its waves, he remained composed that day, fully aware of himself. At times, he even had the presence of mind to pause and look around at the audience. This was not his usual free skate performed at 120 percent, the kind that inevitably left him exhausted by the end. Instead, it was a beautifully controlled performance, with every movement measured. This was a definite step forward. It was different from his performance at the World Championships, where he had thrilled audiences as a youthful newcomer. Now, as an already well-known top skater expected to deliver a good performance, he gave the audience every reason to be satisfied. The spectators rose to their feet to applaud the performance of this skater who had only just turned 18. At the same time, however, they probably sensed that this was not the best he could do. That is not to say his performance that night was disappointing. The season was still only halfway through, and he had not yet reached his peak. Surely he would deliver an even better performance at a major competition in the second half of the season. This was the kind of Notre-Dame de Paris one hoped to see at the Grand Prix Final, a performance that left us looking forward to even greater things to come. What made this interesting, however, was that the reason he was able to achieve this more measured sense of completeness was a failed jump. “The moment I finished the performance, I wasn’t as exhausted as usual, was I? I wasn’t bent over with my hands on my knees. I think I probably skated more calmly than usual. One reason was that, after going through Skate America and the NHK Trophy, I’d gained a certain amount of confidence. Even in the practices before the Final, I followed the plan Brian had put together for me and landed almost all of my jumps in practice. I feel like I was able to bring that confidence into the competition. “But the biggest reason I skated calmly was... my failed quadruple Salchow! And it wasn’t a fall after completing the rotations. I popped the jump and only did two rotations. My Salchow had been off throughout practice, so I guess it couldn’t be helped. But I managed to put everything I had into the jumps in the second half of the program, which is precisely why I’m so frustrated about the Salchow!” The frustration of failing on his second jump had actually helped him stay calm. Another factor was that, in order to conserve his stamina until the end, he had cut some of the more complex steps from various parts of his free skate. This, too, probably contributed to the greater ease in his performance. At the joint press conference after the competition, one reporter even asked, “You seem to have gained quite a bit of stamina in such a short time since the NHK Trophy. Is that right?” His physical stamina and his ability to control himself while performing were both improving. Being able to manage a long free skate on such a major stage would become a tremendous asset for him going forward. Figure skaters must be performers in every sense of the word. A competitive performance is different from an ice show, where the skater can focus solely on what the audience sees. In competition, the skater must keep their mind on the jumps and continue moving with all their might. And yet, even under immense pressure, even when nerves threaten to make them lose themselves, there is a level of composure in which the body seems to regulate its own energy and instinctively deliver a performance that captivates the audience. Through one major competition after another, Yuzuru Hanyu was in the process of acquiring just that. Now, the Yuzuru Hanyu show. In ballet or theater, the curtain would fall when the performer left the stage. But in competitive figure skating, the story continues even after the skater steps off the ice. The Grand Prix Final was Hanyu’s first top-level international competition since winning a medal at the World Championships. Throughout the event, his remarks repeatedly gave us something to talk about. Take, for example, the press conference after the short program. He was in third place behind Daisuke Takahashi and Patrick Chan, five points behind the leader, when he made this comment: “It’s still only the short program, and compared with the eight-point gap between Daisuke-san and me at the NHK Trophy, this five-point gap puts me in a much more comfortable position.” His bold remark, which could almost be taken as a challenge to his senior rival Daisuke Takahashi, caused quite a stir among the Japanese reporters. The reaction was so strong that the Russian moderator leaned forward and exclaimed, “What on earth did Yuzuru just say? I can’t wait to hear the translation!” Then, after the short program press conference and all the joint interviews were over, Hanyu announced: “I’ll be back here tomorrow!” With that, he casually declared his intention to win a medal. As he walked away, a chorus of astonished “Whoa!” rose from the reporters. Then, at the press conference after the free skate, he was asked about his results: third in the short program, second in the free skate, and second overall. “This time, I finished without taking first place in either the short program or the free skate. That’s what frustrates me most. The next time I skate on this stage, I want to come first in both the short program and the free skate! There’s only a little over a year left, but I want to build up my strength and come back.” He declared to the world’s media that he intended to win at the upcoming Sochi Olympics. Faced with such an unapologetically direct declaration of war, made right in front of Takahashi and Chan, everyone was left speechless. But when asked about former Olympic champion Evgeni Plushenko of Russia, whose comeback was rumored, Hanyu’s face lit up and he replied: “Plushenko was the very first skater I came to love after I started skating. I even tried the Biellmann spin because I wanted to do what he was doing. I really love him as a skater, so part of me wants to compete alongside him as soon as possible. But another part of me is really scared and doesn’t want to skate against him! It feels so strange to be talking about Plushenko like this at a press conference. (laughs) But if he comes back before Sochi, I want to become strong enough to face him as a fellow skater and fight him as an opponent.” After a succession of bold, confident statements, his tone of voice and slightly bashful expression were completely different from those he had shown in his previous answers. Like the 18-year-old boy he was, he expressed his admiration for his idol with straightforward sincerity. There was not a trace of falseness in his words, and they captured the hearts of all the adults seated before him. Although the questions had led to this moment by chance, what a wonderfully executed performance this “Yuzuru Hanyu show off-the-ice” turned out to be! “Good for you, Yuzuru. We don’t need skaters who give us nothing but the same old stock answers. It’s much more interesting to have someone who can make such distinctive remarks.” That was the reaction from the North American media. “He’s still young, so why not? After all, he’s getting results!” That was the reaction from the Japanese media. With the Olympic year just around the corner, Yuzuru Hanyu had become a skater who attracted attention wherever he went, both on and off the ice. Before the season began, I had once asked him about these “bold statements” of his. I told him that his words were interesting, that everything he said would probably end up in print and be broadcast on television without anything being left out. Was he sure he was comfortable with that? He answered firmly, “I don’t mind. Please write everything down.” “I think it’s important to speak frankly to everyone about what I really think. When I make statements like these to the media, people’s perceptions of me change, too. If I fail to deliver, people will say, ‘Hanyu, after all that you said!’ That means I’ll have to work hard whether I like it or not. And when I see my own words on television or read them in an article, I can remember how I felt at the time. I can think, ‘Yes, that really was what I believed.’ So it’s fine. Please write everything down.” His challenges to his rivals and his fearless declarations of victory were not simply words blurted out in the heat of youthful enthusiasm. Once he said something, he was prepared to take full responsibility for it and make it all come true. Every one of these words was spoken with that resolve.

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%98 https://web.archive.org/web/20220816134358/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012121400008.html 2012.12.15 Beyond the Dream 8 - Grand Prix Final Report (Part 1) The Yuzuru Hanyu Show!? The 2012 Grand Prix Final felt like watching the Yuzuru Hanyu show. Following coach Brian Orser's instruction to "get to the venue early!", Hanyu had done well to book a flight to Sochi earlier than anyone else. However, Aeroflot's flight schedule was thrown into major disarray, and what should have been a 16-hour journey ended up taking him 29 hours. "It took a long time to get here. I don't mean as a skater, but that Moscow felt so far away. It was such a long journey! In Sendai, I'd been practicing late at night and going to sleep at three or four in the morning, so I'd even managed to adjust to Sochi time in advance. What a waste! (laughs)" The mishaps that befell him even before the competition began reminded me of Skate America, when his arrival at the venue had been delayed by a day. This time, too, I had a feeling that something was about to happen. My anticipation of what he might get up to and what he would show us had somehow begun to build even before the competition started. The first day of competition, the day of the short program, was his 18th birthday. "What would I like for a birthday present...? I think I'd like to receive it through my own performance. I also celebrated my birthday at the Final last season, so I hope I can deliver an even better performance than I did last year." Of course, the ultimate birthday present would be to break his own world-record score and take first place in the short program, ahead of Patrick Chan and Daisuke Takahashi. Both Hanyu himself and those around him were hoping for this as he took to the ice for the short program. Jeffrey Buttle's choreography for Parisienne Walkways had become quite familiar by now. The moment Hanyu began skating, the rink took on an indescribably smooth, mellow atmosphere. Once again, I found myself marveling at what a wonderful choice of music and choreography this was. When the program had first been unveiled, some people had wondered, "Isn't it a little too mature for a 17-year-old?" Yet it captured the atmosphere of a boy trying to act more grown-up than he really is. He put on a slightly more sophisticated air, but his naturally fiery, youthful side inevitably showed through. This character suited Yuzuru Hanyu at this stage of his life almost perfectly. A little dark, a little mature, but with just a hint of passion. This atmosphere came through in his footwork, which showcased impressive technical skill without ever seeming showy, and in the expressive movements of his upper body, which swayed alluringly as he held back his surging emotions. Jeffrey Buttle, who had taught Hanyu this program in their first year working together, was now earning considerable recognition among judges and coaches. "With so many programs by Lori, Nikolai, and David, Jeff's work feels fresh." "And it's not just Yuzuru. Chan's short program has a different flavor this year, too, don't you think? Jeff is trying to show a different side of the beauty of his skating." Lori Nichol and David Wilson, both based in Canada, and Nikolai Morozov, originally from Russia, were the three choreographers who had been commissioned most frequently by top skaters over the preceding decade. Each had created numerous programs regarded as masterpieces, and many great skaters had gone on to win World Championship and Olympic titles with their work. However, they had produced so many programs that when skaters whose performance skills were still developing performed them, there was a risk that the programs might come across as something one had seen before. Compared with these established names, Jeffrey Buttle was still a newcomer to choreography. His work was not only fresh; both Hanyu's Parisienne Walkways and Chan's Elegie had brought out aspects of the skaters that had not been seen in their performances through the 2011–12 season. This was one reason his work was receiving such high praise. His programs were strong not only as performances but also in their technical details. Buttle himself had carefully incorporated elements designed to earn additional Grade of Execution (GOE) points, such as intricate steps before jumps. It had been a little over a decade since choreography began to receive serious recognition as a profession in the skating world. Perhaps this year marked the beginning of a new era, with Buttle emerging as a popular choreographer of a new generation. "I want to be a choreographer who takes on new things, experiments, and tries unusual music and movements more than other choreographers do. I'm still young, and I've only just started this work. I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunities to take on those challenges in the future. That's why I want to keep an open mind for now. I want to learn from programs created by other people, and I want to remain open to all forms of art, not just skating." (Buttle) So how did Hanyu perform Buttle's fine work, Parisienne Walkways, at the Grand Prix Final? Unfortunately, his jumps were the weakest of his three competitions since Skate America. He somehow managed to hang on to the quadruple jump, but the landing was nerve-racking. Had he lost his balance just a little more, he would have fallen. The following triple Axel also had a shaky landing, and by the final triple-triple combination, he finally fell on the back-end toe loop. "Was I thinking about the world-record score? No, I'm not the type to feel much pressure. So I wasn't particularly burdened by it. If anything, I was looking forward to figuring out how I could beat my own record from here on out. I'd been looking forward to competing on this stage and had practiced with that in mind. More than pressure, what I felt was the desire to surpass myself! I'm really frustrated now that I couldn't bring that feeling out in my performance today." "I was nervous because it was the Final, and I don't think I managed to control my emotions completely. My performance ended up being much like my official practice, when I hadn't been in good shape. But there's nothing I can do about it. Some days are like that. I have to accept it and move on. Happy birthday? Not happy!" With a somewhat disgruntled expression, he looked back on his mistake-ridden performance. What was interesting, however, was that despite the disappointing jumps, his body movements seemed more relaxed than usual. As a result, he managed to convey a much stronger blues atmosphere than in previous competitions. At Skate America, his excitement at finally being able to skate had burst out, and he had been full of energy from beginning to end. At the NHK Trophy, where he was nervous, his movements had been stiff until he landed all three jumps, before he burst into energetic skating in the second half. At this Final, however, he managed to convey the easygoing looseness of the blues, something that could not be achieved through sheer desperation or frantic effort alone. "Hmm... I won't really know until I watch the video again. But what I focused on in practice this time was the footwork sequence in the short program. After two clean performances in my first two events, I was thinking about how I could raise my score from there. The only thing I could really think of was getting Level 4 on the steps and earning more GOE points. What I'd been missing in the previous competition was the requirement to use upper-body movements for more than one-third of the pattern, which is one of the criteria for Level 4. This time, I concentrated on that and made sure to use my upper body properly. I got Level 4, just as I'd intended, and I'm really happy about that!" He had not consciously tried to create this atmosphere. If anything, he attributed it to his efforts to raise his technical element scores. In reality, skaters have far less mental space to pay attention to their expression during a competition than we might imagine. I once sat down with Hanyu and watched footage of his performance when he won bronze at the World Championships. We talked about what he had been thinking during those four minutes and thirty seconds, and he explained it to me moment by moment. "Just before I start skating... At this point, the only thing in my head is the image of the quadruple toe loop. I can't see anything else. "I've landed the toe loop! At that very moment, I'm already thinking, Axel, Axel... I keep repeating the next jump to myself in my head. "Okay, next is the flip. If I pull in tightly, I can land it! (During the lyrical, expressive section) I'm taking a huge break here. (laughs) As for the steps, I just try to keep in time with the music and the clapping!" A four-and-a-half-minute performance may look as though it is filled with sadness and joy. In reality, skaters are thinking almost exclusively about successfully completing their jumps and other elements! Hanyu himself probably had no idea that his blues had changed in this performance. Yet it was fascinating that, without even intending to, he had managed to convey a languid charm that youthful intensity alone could never produce. After Skate America and the NHK Trophy, those of us watching had thought that Parisienne Walkways was more or less complete. This time, however, even if by chance, his performance had developed in a direction that brought it closer to the character of the music. Perhaps this short program still had room to evolve. Perhaps we would see a different interpretation of Parisienne Walkways in the competitions to come. That was something to look forward to. Despite the mistakes, his short program that day had left a strong impression. Another reason was that Hanyu had been irresistibly charming immediately after the performance. At the instant he struck his final pose, his face was filled with anger. He was angry with himself for delivering such poor jumps in a short program that was supposed to be one of his strengths. But as soon as the music ended, he seemed to come back to himself in a flash, breaking into a smile and scratching his head with an expression that said, "Hehe, I messed up." He finished the program with a sharp, almost cheeky expression, then, a moment later, showed a warm, friendly smile. The way his expressions change so seamlessly… What else can you call him but an actor? Does he realize—or perhaps he doesn’t—that what draws so many people to him is the contrast between the mature allure he exudes when performing and the childlike quality he reveals in moments like those in the Kiss & Cry? There is something strangely coquettish about him, a charm that seems to emerge quite unconsciously. Much like the way he embodied the spirit of blues in his performance, seemingly without even intending to, I sensed in him a mysterious, innate gift. The performance, transformed into something richer and more nuanced, together with the expressions and gestures he showed at the end: taken together, these made up that day's Yuzuru Hanyu Show.

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%97 https://web.archive.org/web/20220817104755/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012120700007.html 2012.12.08 Beyond the Dream 7 - Report on the Sixth Grand Prix Event, the NHK Trophy (Part 2) The Free Skate Where He Gave 120% He had managed to get through the NHK Trophy short program in a way that was more than just satisfactory. In fact, his performance had come close to perfection. All that remained was the free skate. Those close to Yuzuru Hanyu had entered the day of the free skate with something like a prayer in their hearts: they hoped he would relax and skate freely, without feeling the weight of pressure or responsibility. To reiterate, many skaters regard the Grand Prix Series as a warm-up during the first half of the season. For example, when American skater Mirai Nagasu, who finished third, was asked about the mistakes she had made on a few jumps, she replied matter-of-factly: “But if I skated perfectly here, I wouldn’t know what I should work on before the U.S. Championships!” (laughs) Brian Orser, Hanyu's coach, was equally emphatic when asked what mattered most for Hanyu at this point. “Of course, it’s about focusing on the Japanese Championships. It’s important for him to deliver two good performances, in both the short program and the free skate, at the upcoming Final, too. But I really want him to start focusing specifically on the Japanese Championships now.” For every skater, the World Championships are the most important competition of the year. And for skaters from countries with deep fields of talent, such as Japan, the United States, and Russia, the national championships, such as the Japanese and U.S. Championships, which determine who will represent their countries at the World Championships, are also crucial. Their focus should remain firmly on these competitions. That is how elite skaters approach a season in which they compete in numerous events throughout the year. Yuzuru Hanyu undoubtedly understood this, too. Nevertheless, he seemed to approach every single competition at 120 percent. This time in particular, it was a home event where he was receiving tremendous support and attracting intense attention. He was determined to show everyone what he could do and how much he had grown. He was also fully aware of the expectations of those watching him: “The boy who set a world record. Will he show us something amazing again?” “It’s a competition at home, after all. I really felt like everyone was watching me...” (comment after the short program) “I managed to do that much in the short program. What on earth will I do next? I want to deliver a performance that lives up to everyone’s expectations.” And so, in the free skate, too, he ended up giving 120 percent. He psyched himself up as if this were the biggest competition of the season, felt the nerves as if it were the biggest competition of the season, and poured everything he had into it as if it were the biggest competition of the season. He opened with two quadruple jumps and landed the toe loop beautifully. Although he lost his balance on the Salchow, he managed to stay on his feet rather than fall. “I’ve done a lot of practice to be able to skate through the program from beginning to end as one complete piece.” His program allowed him to use his body beautifully in flowing, undulating movements. He performed each element of the difficult step sequence, which he was aiming to have rated Level 4, with meticulous care. His movements were still a little tentative, but he performed as though he were doing his utmost to communicate something to everyone watching. One international judge described Hanyu's appeal at the time as being “like freshly picked green tea.” “He may not yet have the deep flavor of fully matured tea. Its taste is a little sharp, and it has some distinctive qualities. Even so, its freshness, its indescribably vivid green aroma and color, are irresistibly appealing.” While captivating the audience with his skating, he also successfully landed two Axels during the five-jump sequence in the second half, a section that was just as important and demanding as the quadruple jumps. At this rate, his only major mistake would be the quadruple Salchow. Just as in the short program, everyone thought he would finish in a form that came as close to perfection as possible! But then he fell on his final jump, the triple Lutz. What’s more, during the first of his two consecutive spins, the combination spin, he became extremely unsteady and collapsed to the ice in another fall. “At the end, I was so pathetic that I just started laughing!” (laughs) “I was exhausted. My body just wouldn’t move anymore.” He looked back on the final moments of his performance with a slightly embarrassed smile. Although his lack of stamina was once again identified as an area needing considerable improvement, he still won by a comfortable margin over Daisuke Takahashi and Javier Fernández of Spain, both of whom had made numerous mistakes. Although his performance had not been perfect, Hanyu finished the NHK Trophy having thoroughly excited and astonished the audience, earning thunderous applause. “I know full well that I can’t maintain my stamina all the way through the second half. This time was actually better than usual. When my concentration starts to wander, as it did at Skate America, I lose even more stamina...” As people were concerned, his lack of stamina was certainly one of his major challenges at the time. However, the problem of being unable to maintain his strength through the second half of the free skate, which had been pointed out repeatedly since 2010 and 2011, was not something that had remained entirely unchanged. In Hanyu's case, it was apparently not simply a matter of insufficient stamina. Weakness in his respiratory system was also a contributing factor. “Until now, he had been overusing the muscles in his upper body, especially those in his chest, causing them to become stiff and tense. By loosening those muscles with acupuncture, I think breathing has become considerably easier for him. Air can now enter his chest more easily, where everything had been so tense and rigid. This means he can manage David Wilson's free skate, too. He seems to be feeling the difference himself. He says things like, ‘Sensei, I can make it to the end now without getting exhausted!’” (laughs) The person explaining this was massage therapist Tadashi Aoshima. Through acupuncture treatments in Toronto, Hanyu was gradually developing the physical capacity to get through a four-and-a-half-minute free skate. Even so, there was a reason he had once again shown signs of running out of breath in the second half, just as he had during the 2011–12 season. One was that this season’s free skate was a “trial by fire” of a program, requiring him to execute more complex step sequences and demonstrate more intricate skating skills. Another was that he had not yet mastered the pacing needed to skate through all four minutes and thirty seconds. In practice, he could confidently say that, in the just under a month since Skate America, he had managed to skate through the increased amount of time he was spending on the ice. But in competition, he became excessively nervous without even fully realizing it, and his desire to live up to expectations was so great that he went all out from the very beginning, giving 120 percent. Naturally, by the second half, he was so exhausted that his performance began to fall apart. At this early stage of the season, the Grand Prix Series is best approached as a trial run, skating while observing one’s own condition. But this time, Hanyu was brimming with the determination to give it his all in front of his hometown audience. That was precisely why he had pushed himself too hard in the free skate. By contrast, Daisuke Takahashi, who finished second, and Javier Fernández, who finished third, had both avoided overexerting themselves. Knowing that they did not need particularly high placements to qualify for the Final, they assessed their current condition and conserved their energy where necessary, putting together performances and results that were good enough to pass. As for the quadruple jumps, Fernández had missed two of his three attempts, while Takahashi had missed one of his two. But this, too, was merely part of the preparation process for “being able to land my best jumps at the Olympics,” as Takahashi put it. They did not need to be jumping at the highest difficulty level right now. Both Takahashi and Fernández explained that they were adjusting their form with an eye toward peaking at this year’s World Championships and, further ahead, the Sochi Olympics. These two veterans, well versed in how to manage a competitive season, would presumably raise their pace gradually as the second half of the season approached. Given their current condition, they were unlikely to regress from here. The same was probably true of Patrick Chan, who was competing in other events. “This isn’t the main event yet,” they maintained, emphasizing that “it’s important not to let yourself be swayed by the pace of other skaters.” This brings to mind Shizuka Arakawa’s approach to the 2005–06 Olympic season. Already a World Champion at the time, she lost to Mao Asada, who was still a junior, during that year’s Grand Prix Series and failed even to qualify for the Grand Prix Final. Looking back on that experience, Arakawa said, “Seeing young skaters who had nothing to fear going all out from the beginning of the season was stimulating. But I tried not to let it disrupt my own pace.” Arakawa then timed her peak perfectly for the Turin Olympics and went on to win the gold medal. Hanyu, who had competed at Skate America and then the NHK Trophy, had certainly not taken a particularly measured approach. Third place would have been enough to qualify for the Grand Prix Final. Nevertheless, he had declared his intention to win the NHK Trophy outright, saying, “I’m absolutely going to win. It would be frustrating to qualify because of someone else’s results. I have to make it to the Final on my own!” He delivered on that promise, winning the competition. But if he continued charging ahead at full speed through the Final and the Japanese Championships, would he not end up completely exhausted? This was precisely what concerned Coach Orser. And yet, his attitude of “giving it his all every time” was also what made Hanyu so unmistakably himself at seventeen. His wholehearted, almost awkwardly unrestrained way of throwing himself into competition without holding anything back was refreshing, and perfectly befitting a fearless rising star. Among all the world’s leading skaters gathered around him, he was the only teenager. Even looking at this year’s Grand Prix Final qualifiers, he stood out as exceptionally young among a field consisting entirely of skaters in their twenties, with the twenty-six-year-old Daisuke Takahashi the oldest. Someday, Hanyu would learn to compete with the sophistication and tactical skill of an adult. But before that day came, I want to watch closely and remember this determined, single-minded version of Yuzuru Hanyu, a skater we could only see at this stage of his life. In any case, the NHK Trophy had placed far too great a burden on him to be called a home event without qualification. Having made it through the toughest challenge of his season so far, he had performed more than admirably. “When it was over and I went back to my room alone, my stomach started hurting, or I’d get so worked up that I couldn’t sleep… All things considered, I realized I really had been nervous. I wanted to finish both the short program and the free skate with a smile, no matter what, so of course I ended up feeling nervous. It was the people in the arena who helped me control those nerves and gave me the push I needed. Thanks to them, I achieved my goal of finishing with a smile! The power of my hometown is limitless.” “Seeing him skate happily in front of the people back home... That really made me happy, too,” said Coach Orser. Surely, with this competition behind him, Hanyu had made it through the most mentally demanding experience he had faced so far. In the future, he would compete several more times for the World Championship title and even at the Olympics. But for him, there would probably never again be a situation as difficult as returning home in triumph to his local audience, especially in Miyagi. Now comes the Grand Prix Final, the Japanese Championships, and then the World Championships in March. A seventeen-year-old charging ahead single-mindedly, carried along by sheer momentum, versus skaters in their twenties competing cleverly while maintaining their own pace. What results lay ahead for them? Even if he runs out of breath, even if he ends up collapsing halfway through in a rather undignified fashion, many people would still watch closely as Yuzuru Hanyu tries to race through every moment at full speed.

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%96 https://web.archive.org/web/20220522022323/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012112900009.html 2012.11.30 Beyond the Dream 6 - Report on the Sixth Grand Prix Event, the NHK Trophy (Part 1) Miyagi, a home that wasn't quite home His second event of the Grand Prix Series, the NHK Trophy. The major turning points of the season, along with several even more important competitions, still lay ahead. This competition was only one of the early events of the season. Although a place in the Grand Prix Final was at stake, he was not in a situation where he absolutely had to achieve a good result at all costs. (A top-three finish would guarantee qualification; even fourth place could be enough, depending on the results of the other competitors.) Under normal circumstances, this was a competition he could have used more as a warm-up, rather than one in which he needed to give it his all. Even so, for Yuzuru Hanyu, the NHK Trophy was the biggest challenge of the season so far. After the disappointing Skate America, he had repeatedly run through his programs and pushed himself through even harder training. He worked not merely to land his jumps, but to execute them confidently with the music playing, and to earn positive grades of execution on his other jumps even if he made a mistake on the quadruple jump. His physical condition was also improving so well that Masashi Aoshima, the massage therapist responsible for his physical care in Toronto, gave him his seal of approval, saying, “I think you can look forward to the NHK Trophy!” Furthermore, he and coach Brian Orser had taken every possible measure to address the peaking issues that had arisen at Skate America. “At the American competition, I was landing jumps one after another from the official practice sessions and got myself into really good form... but then I ended up dropping off in the free skate. So this time, I had to avoid getting into top form too early and keep things under control until the day of the free skate. I've worked hard on that, following Coach Orser's advice.” (Comments made the day before the short program) He had done everything possible to eliminate any uncertainties and prepare himself as thoroughly as he could. Yet what weighed heavily on him was the fact that the competition was being held near Sendai, in Miyagi Prefecture. It was obvious to anyone that this NHK Trophy was about far more than simply being held in his hometown. During the interviews beforehand, reporters repeatedly asked him questions related to the earthquake and tsunami. “Since the competition is being held in Miyagi Prefecture... I find it strange, in a way, that I get to skate here at the NHK Trophy after the earthquake. Five years ago, Sendai hosted both the Japan Junior Championships and the NHK Trophy. Back then, I placed third at the Japan Junior Championships, and at the NHK Trophy I was there as a flower boy. In just five years, I've moved up to the senior ranks, and now I'm competing at the NHK Trophy here in Sendai again. It makes me reflect on how I've been working hard here in this place all along.” Many people would remember him at the 2007 Japan Junior Championships and NHK Trophy. The venue was Sendai City Gymnasium, not the one being used this time. A local first-year junior high school student, still ineligible for the junior category, had been specially invited to compete from the novice class and had somehow finished third at the Japan Junior Championships. And at the NHK Trophy, dressed in a matching costume among a crowd of girls, he had helped with the running of the competition as one of the “little local skaters.” I also remember calling out to the photographers, “Make sure you get a shot of that flower boy!” How wonderful it would have been if this year's event in Sendai had been nothing more than the NHK Trophy returning after five years, with a World Championship bronze medalist returning home in triumph. “It's been a year and a half since the earthquake. So much has happened, and now I find it strange that I can skate here in Miyagi. Looking back from March last year to now, it really feels like it's been such a long time. But at the same time, I also feel as though I've arrived here in the blink of an eye. Somehow, my sense of time feels unnatural.” (He laughed.) “Anyway, I want to put on a really good performance in front of everyone. I do feel a little pressure, but I want to live up to everyone's expectations. Because I'm here now, healthy and able to skate without any problems, I want to give everyone a good performance.” With a slightly fragile smile, he carefully chose each word as he spoke. Expectations and pressure were coming at him from all directions. As soon as he returned to Japan, reporters swarmed around him, and he was also invited to participate in events related to the earthquake and tsunami. It was not easy for him to concentrate solely on the competition. Of course, the encouragement from fans and the warm support of his hometown gave him strength and pushed him forward. Even so, Yuzuru Hanyu had to take the ice in Sendai carrying so many different burdens on his own. Whenever he was asked questions about his hometown or the disaster, he would sometimes seem to falter for a moment before finding the resolve to speak. “Maybe we should stop asking Hanyu-kun about the earthquake?” Some of the reporters who knew him well had even begun to say things like that. The NHK Trophy was already a special competition for Japanese skaters. It was an international event held in the country where figure skating attracted the greatest attention in the world. The number of spectators and reporters was several times, sometimes as much as ten times, that at competitions held in the other five host countries. Haruka Imai, for example, who had previously competed only in Grand Prix events overseas and was making her NHK Trophy debut, had stared wide-eyed and remarked, “It feels just like the Japan Championships. The atmosphere is completely different from America or Russia.” With the added pressure of competing in his hometown and the symbolic expectations that he would represent recovery from the disaster, Hanyu's nervousness and sense of responsibility must have been far greater than they had been at Skate America. For him, the rink in Miyagi was home, yet it was not quite home. And so, on the first day, came the short program. Even after landing a perfect quadruple jump and successfully completing his triple Axel, his movements were still stiff. “From my own perspective, I think I was really tense until I landed the triple Lutz–triple toe loop. I feel like I've got a firm grasp of the quadruple jump now, so I thought that would be all right. But the Lutz–toe loop was the biggest hurdle for me.” Indeed, compared with his performance at Skate America, where energy had been surging through him from beginning to end, he seemed to be skating very cautiously until he had completed all three jumps. His spins also looked measured and controlled, rather than driven by sheer momentum, and there was a stiffness in his skating itself. Until he had landed those three jumps, this was certainly not yet a performance worthy of a world-record score. But the moment he cleanly landed the triple–triple combination, the dreaded “hurdle,” everything changed. Along with the expression of joy on his face, it was as if a switch had suddenly been turned on in his body. It was almost as though he had become a completely different skater from the one he had been before the jump. From the step sequence all the way through the final spin, he unleashed everything he had been holding back, letting loose with tremendous energy! “Once I landed the Lutz, I didn't have to worry about falling anymore.” (He laughed.) “I felt so much more relaxed. The audience in the arena got into it, too, and I really love the step sequence in this short program. I enjoyed skating it!” I was also surprised by just how relieved he looked after finishing the entire program in what seemed like an instant. When he had completed those three jumps, he had clearly set down one of the heavy burdens he was carrying. And once the performance was over, it was as though another weight had lifted from his body. Then the reporters turned to me and asked, “What do you think? How does it compare with his performance at Skate America?” I replied, “Of course, this was wonderful too, but perhaps the Skate America performance was better because he was really on from the very beginning. If that one was worth 95 points, this might be around 90.” They looked distinctly displeased with my assessment. Naturally, they wanted to write up the breathtaking short program they had just witnessed under the headline of a “world-record score.” And the score that came up was 95.32, surpassing his previous mark of 95.07! “See? I told you it would happen!” The reporters were delighted that my rather harsh prediction had proved wrong. There was nothing left to do but admit defeat! “I'm really happy about the world record. More than anything, I'm happy that I was able to deliver another performance with a score similar to the one at Skate America, where I skated so well!” “If you ask what was different between Skate America and this competition... the sense of satisfaction was completely different. Now I know that my performance at the previous competition wasn't just a fluke. Being able to deliver two consecutive performances that earned this kind of score makes me really happy.” During the interviews after the short program, Hanyu repeatedly said how happy he was to have delivered the same performance again. For him, repeating a performance that had been hailed as a “world-record score” was an extraordinarily difficult task. Skate America, where he had skated with a relatively carefree mind, and the NHK Trophy, held in his “home” country and hometown, were situations as different as heaven and earth. Being able to produce another performance that earned a comparable score, despite those vastly different circumstances, meant an enormous amount to him. He had returned to his hometown carrying the title of world-record holder, to compete in a place that was also a symbol of recovery from the disaster. First, in the short program, Yuzuru Hanyu had overcome this exceptionally difficult challenge. Could he turn this homecoming into a place where he truly felt at home? The expectations of the people around him grew ever more intense as their attention turned to his free skate.

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%95 2012.11.23 Beyond the Dream 5 - “Jealousy” Toward Choreographer Jeffrey Buttle “It seems like some top-level coaches are going to be watching me!” Rebuilding his skating skills from the basics. Making his quadruple jumps more reliable. And taking care of a body plagued by recurring injuries... Yuzuru Hanyu had a mountain of things to work on during his new life in Canada. As he went about his daily routine, still adjusting to an unfamiliar rhythm, there was something he needed to tackle early in the off-season. One of the major keys to competitive figure skating is creating the programs. This season, for the first time, Yuzuru Hanyu would commission a foreign choreographer to create his program. Until then, from his junior days through the previous season, he had consistently skated to programs choreographed by his former coach, Nanami Abe. While many top skaters have their programs created by specialist choreographers from Japan and abroad, it has become relatively uncommon for a coach to also serve as the choreographer. Among coaches working with skaters near the top of the World Championships, perhaps only Nikolai Morozov, coach Yuka Sato, and coach Mihoko Higuchi, who choreographed Kanako Murakami’s short program, were notable examples. When a coach also serves as a choreographer, one advantage is that the program can be adjusted during daily training. Moreover, the fresh, youthful programs choreographed by Coach Abe had suited Hanyu very well up to that point. “I leave the programs to Coach Nanami. There are all kinds of music that I like and would love to skate to. But I don’t know whether those pieces really suit my character. Which music suits the skater I am now? I think Coach Nanami is the one who can judge that, not me. She has been watching me objectively all this time as my coach.” He had often said much the same thing back when he was in Sendai. But now, having moved to Canada and wanting to present a “new Yuzuru” this season, entrusting his programs to choreographers he had never worked with before was an exciting new challenge. And he would get to experience collaborations with four new choreographers all at once. Jeffrey Buttle would choreograph his short program, David Wilson his free skate, Kurt Browning one exhibition number, and Kenji Miyamoto another. Every one of them was a well-known figure, whether as a choreographer or as a skater. Working with even one of them would have been enough to make headlines. Hanyu was about to receive guidance from four big names all at once. Of these, the choice that probably surprised and excited people the most was Jeffrey Buttle, who choreographed the short program. He was the former world champion in men’s singles, having won the 2008 World Championships. He had retired from competitive skating only four years earlier, and his career as a choreographer was not particularly long yet. Nevertheless, this season he would be working with two men's world medalists: Yuzuru Hanyu and Patrick Chan. “I feel truly honored to have had the opportunity to choreograph for Yuzuru. You don’t often get the chance to work with such a wonderful skater. Besides, I’ve only been a choreographer for two or three years, so I feel very fortunate. I don’t think most choreographers are quite this lucky!” Buttle said with a laugh. It was coach Brian Orser who had suggested that Buttle choreograph a program for Yuzuru Hanyu. “It was a very fortunate, very honorable, and very exciting experience. The first day you meet a top skater can be nerve-racking. You’re confident in your own abilities, but you start wondering whether you might not be able to bring out the best in this skater. You can become rather self-conscious.” Despite being a world champion, Buttle was still a newcomer to choreography, and at just 30 years old, he felt the pressure. Perhaps that was why, by the time the two met at a rink near Toronto, the short program, Parisienne Walkways, was already almost complete. “Jeff had worked out all the movements in detail. He had already created almost the entire program before we even started skating together. And of course, Jeff was the one who chose the music, too,” Hanyu recalled. For a North American choreographer, who generally spends more time creating programs than choreographers in Japan, this was unusual. There were plenty of cases where the music selection alone took the first three days, followed by another week of choreography. “First, I looked for music that would suit Yuzuru. Everything starts with choosing the music. I wanted him to convey a strong energy. I also wanted him to develop a sense of maturity. Gary Moore’s Parisienne Walkways... I think it was the perfect choice. It’s a sophisticated piece, but when he skates to it, you can feel a wild passion. Yes, he is the very embodiment of ‘wild passion,’” Buttle said. “First, Jeff put on the music and skated through the entire program himself to show me everything. Then we started, with him basically saying, ‘Okay, try copying this.’ He had me imitate him little by little, and here and there he would make small adjustments based on how his own body moved, saying, ‘Okay, now you try it.’ “That’s why Jeff can perform this short program perfectly. You should ask him to skate Parisienne Walkways. I think he’d probably do it! If we skated together, I’m sure we could even synchronize our movements beautifully. Jeff can still jump, too, so we could do side-by-side jumps together! “But if I skated this with Jeff, I’d probably be so overwhelmed by him that I’d just stand there staring, completely mesmerized. That’s how good he was when he skated it! I kept thinking, ‘Wouldn’t this be better as Jeff’s program?’ Even while he was choreographing it for me, I was pretty jealous of his skating,” Hanyu admitted with a laugh. Wouldn’t a program turn out better if the choreographer performed it rather than the skater? That is something one sometimes wonders when watching skaters learn their choreography. When a former ice dancer who has become a choreographer performs, singles skaters simply cannot match their edge work or musical expression. Professional dancers specializing in flamenco, hip-hop, and other styles also sometimes choreograph skaters’ programs, and at times their mastery of the fundamental movements is simply incomparable to that of amateur competitive skaters. Jeffrey Buttle was still an active professional show skater, appearing in ice shows and creating new numbers for himself every year. That was why Hanyu had even found himself thinking, “Wouldn’t it be better if Jeff skated this himself?” He was jealous, too. “Hehe, did Yuzuru really say that? Yes, I often choreograph while skating alongside the skaters. I simply want to know whether the program feels comfortable to skate. If it doesn’t feel comfortable to me, it won’t feel comfortable to the skater either. That’s why I perform the program alongside them. “But this time, I felt that he had taken a step forward with this program. I felt he had crossed the dividing line between where he had been and where he was heading. In terms of technical elements like jumps, he was already on the other side, aiming to become the best in the world. This time, I think he had taken a step toward maturity in other respects as well,” Buttle said. The choreography was completed in June, and Hanyu first performed the program at an ice show in July. However, Parisienne Walkways continued to change little by little after that. “Jeff has made some adjustments, but I’ve also been changing and adding movements here and there myself. I wanted to bring out at least a little of my own style... because it bothers me! If I leave it as it is, it’ll turn into a program that Jeff would skate better than me!” Hanyu said. “That’s fine, too!” Buttle laughed. “At first, the skaters simply wait for me to do something. But eventually, they start moving naturally with the music. Then, on top of what I’ve created, something new emerges: a flavor that belongs to Yuzuru alone. I think that’s a good process.” “But, you know, the more I add my own touches, the more I sometimes think, ‘Oh, that was unnecessary after all.’ Sometimes I feel it would have been better to leave Jeff’s choreography as it was, and that the movements I added were unnecessary. “Especially when I skate in front of an audience, such as at an ice show, I start thinking about all sorts of things, like, ‘I should do it this way after all,’ or ‘No, this is the way to do it.’ A lot more emotion wells up when I skate in front of an audience than when I’m practicing. So I may keep thinking about the short program and making further changes to it. It’s fun!” Hanyu said. Figure skating programs are living things. From autumn through the following spring, as skaters compete again and again, the choreography, the performers’ expressions, and the emotions that pour forth from their performances all change in various ways. Watching this evolution is one of the unique pleasures of competitive figure skating. Hanyu’s short program, Parisienne Walkways, made headlines when he set a new world record score at his second competition of the season, relatively early in the season. At first glance, it seemed like a finished work of art. But in Hanyu’s mind, it was still far from finished. “That’s right. I still haven’t established the theme I want to express through this music. It’s not a musical number like my free skate, nor is it film music like last year’s free skate, Romeo and Juliet. It’s a blues piece without a storyline, so it’s difficult. It would be easiest if I could identify a specific story or theme... For now, I want to listen to the guitar and express the emotions that emerge, skating as though they were coming from deep within my body, from my very core,” he said after the short program at Skate America. “Immersing yourself in the music and expressing your emotions... it’s not easy. If you want to surrender yourself to the music and express everything, you mustn’t feel even the slightest embarrassment. Nor should you be afraid that your interpretation might be wrong. I’m sure that as Yuzuru tries to express a piece of music through his body, there will be times when he produces a wonderful performance and times when certain parts don’t work out. Even so, he mustn’t hesitate to express himself. He needs to approach the music patiently and open his heart and body as fully as possible,” Buttle said. The second event of the Grand Prix Series was the NHK Trophy. The main points to watch in the short program would be whether Hanyu landed his quadruple toe loop and whether he could surpass the score he had earned at Skate America. But viewers should also take the time to savor how this gem of a program, Parisienne Walkways, had evolved over the five weeks since its debut. They should look for the “mature Yuzuru” that Buttle had sought to draw out, as well as the traces of Hanyu’s struggle to surpass Jeffrey Buttle himself.

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%94 2012.11.09 Beyond the Dream 4 - Report on the first GP event, "Skate America" (Part 2) What he learned from Takahiko Kozuka and Tatsuki Machida After the short program ended, the reporters covering the event were unusually excited. Even in the car on the way back to the hotel, they couldn't stop talking. As figure skating reporters, we had just witnessed one of those exceptionally thrilling competitions that might happen once a year, if that often, and it had happened right at the very start of the season. But one of the things that makes figure skating competitions so fascinating is that they don't end with the short program. After the SP, Hanyu was in first place, about ten points ahead of second-place Takahiko Kozuka. Everyone thought that if the same thing happened in the free skate, and Hanyu managed to land both his quadruple toe loop and quadruple Salchow to win, Yuzuru Hanyu would truly be a monster. He had attracted enormous attention and expectations, and everything seemed set for him to achieve the highest score in history. He remained in excellent form during official practice, and on the day of the free skate, he landed both types of quadruple jumps as if nothing were amiss. And yet, what followed was a free skate that Hanyu would describe as "incredibly bitter." He fell on two consecutive quads, first the quadruple toe loop and then the quadruple Salchow. From that point on, his jumps should have been relatively stable, but his Lutz was reduced to a double with a two-foot landing, and he fell for the third time on his final triple flip. His failed jumps sometimes brought the flow of his skating to a halt, and his final step sequence was even more unsteady than at the Finlandia Trophy, where he had been in poor physical condition. It was a disastrous performance that no one had anticipated, and one unlike anything he had shown in the past few years. "I thought, 'So Yuzuru is human after all.' It was somehow a relief," said Tatsuki Machida, who had competed in the same event, with a laugh. Just as Machida said, the monster who had been on the ice the day before was nowhere to be seen. "As for how I felt before the free skate... I think I was calm. I didn't feel that I absolutely had to win here. In fact, having built up such a big lead in the short program allowed me to stay calm. But in the end, I lost... I don't know why I made mistakes on the quads. I'd managed to build a lead of about ten points, only to lose by an even bigger margin... I'm really frustrated. That's why I absolutely have to win next time. There's only one month left... I want to train as hard as I possibly can, pushing myself to the limit." One reason for his defeat was likely his falls on the two quadruple jumps in the jump layout he had been attempting this season. However consistent his quads might be, their success rate was nowhere near 100%, unlike his triple jumps, which he could perform "without even having to visualize them." A situation like this one, in which he attempted two quads and failed on both, was not entirely unforeseeable. Nevertheless, men's singles was entering the "quad era." At Skate America alone, besides Hanyu, Takahiko Kozuka, Michal Březina of the Czech Republic, and Konstantin Menshov of Russia had all attempted two quads. For skaters aiming for a top finish at the World Championships, including two quads was becoming the norm. And when a quad goes wrong, the damage is greater than with other jumps. Skaters glide at speeds beyond what humans can achieve on land, using that speed and the low friction of the ice to launch themselves into jumps with rotational speed and height impossible to achieve on solid ground. If they fail, they are slammed onto the hard ice with all that momentum. Unlike a judo tatami or a martial arts mat, there is nothing to absorb the impact of the fall. Falling and then getting back up alone can consume an immeasurable amount of energy. When a skater falls twice on quads that involve such tremendous impact, it is hardly surprising that the rest of the program falls apart. At the Japan Open held in Japan in early October, even Patrick Chan suffered exactly the same misfortune. He fell twice on the opening quads and then made mistakes on four jumps in total, including two further falls. In Hanyu's case, the difficulty of his free skate this season compounded the problem. With transitions packed between the jumps, it’s a grueling “test of endurance” program with no time to rest. Even if he had landed both quads and avoided the exhaustion caused by falling, simply making it through the entire program would have been a formidable challenge. He couldn't win without attempting the quads. But if he failed, he could fall apart completely. With so many men's singles skaters incorporating two quads into their free skates this season, the success or failure of these jumps would likely become an even more decisive factor in determining the outcome than it had been last season. So why had Hanyu missed both quads when his success rate during official practice had been so high? Had the "highest score in history" he achieved the previous day put pressure on him after all? Even for Hanyu, whose greatest weapon was said to be his mental strength, had the pressure been so overwhelming that it had crushed him? The day after the free skate, once he had regained some composure, Hanyu revealed that the source of his pressure had not actually been the "highest score in history." The score itself was not the main issue. What weighed heavily on him was something much simpler: the fact that he had made no mistakes in the short program. "But I've hardly ever skated a clean short program! Whenever my short program goes well, I absolutely fall apart in the free. That's my usual pattern." In fact, he was right. Last season, he made mistakes in the short programs at both the Japanese National Championships and the World Championships, finishing fourth and seventh, respectively. He often followed a pattern of fighting his way back in the free skate to climb onto the podium. At one of the few competitions where he skated a successful short program, the Cup of China in November 2011, he placed second in the short but made three jump errors in the free skate, dropping to fourth overall. "I couldn't put together both the short and the free. Without even realizing it, I'd started thinking that way before the free skate this time. I thought... maybe I'd mess up again." You might think it was just a simple misconception. But that is how frightening competition can be. Even a World Championship medalist can become this nervous. "On the other hand, if my short program was just okay, I was confident I could skate a perfect free. Deep down, I knew that I couldn't consistently put both programs together. Because I knew that, I kept telling myself I had to stay calm! I became increasingly fixated on that. I was too caught up in it, and I think that was the reason I lost this time. "I realized this on the night after the competition. I went back to the hotel and was talking to someone, and for the first time, I actually said out loud how I'd felt before the free skate. The moment I said it... I started crying, and I couldn't stop. I thought, 'Oh, I was this anxious after all.' It was as if my feelings had finally found their way out. "After the short program, I was carried away by the result, and I kept telling myself to calm down, to stay calm... I consciously tried to bring my emotions down. But as I did that, I started thinking about all sorts of things. I overthought everything so much that I never even realized how fixated I was on the idea that if the short went well, the free would go badly. It was only after the competition, when I finally said it out loud, that I realized what had caused my defeat." Was this boy strong or weak, after all? "Right now, I'm 99% frustrated. But I'm glad I realized what caused the defeat. I managed to hold on to second place, and I got to experience the frustration of losing by the narrowest of margins. There's also 1% of me that feels glad about that. "So next time... I'll win. Daisuke Takahashi will be at the NHK Trophy. Even if I finish second at both my first and second events, I might still make it to the Final. But I wouldn't be satisfied with that! I have to win through my own efforts. So at the NHK Trophy... I'll take first place!" Whether Hanyu's strength was the real thing would apparently be answered at the NHK Trophy, the final event of the Grand Prix Series. Five weeks after this defeat, I hope you'll watch him closely. Could he surpass his Skate America performance in the short program? Could he stay mentally strong in the free skate and avoid repeating the mistakes of his first event? And how would he fare against Daisuke Takahashi, whom he had never beaten before? Watch Hanyu's every move closely. "The NHK Trophy is five weeks away! Do I really have to spend all five weeks feeling this frustrated?!" While Hanyu was consumed by frustration, the competition itself generated enormous excitement with an all-Japanese men's podium sweep. Japan had previously swept the podium at the 2006 NHK Trophy, with Daisuke Takahashi, Nobunari Oda, and Takahiko Kozuka. But finishing first, second, and third at Skate America, on foreign soil, was a major achievement. Winner Takahiko Kozuka had claimed silver at the World Championships two seasons earlier, but finished 11th at the same event last season. This victory was a magnificent comeback. I still vividly remember him smiling and saying, "I'm home!" after delivering a perfect short program that included a quad. He hadn't been able to end the previous season on a high note, but he had looked so lively at the summer ice shows that I had assumed he had completely shaken off his slump. In reality, however, he had been trapped in a dark tunnel since spring. Learning how strongly he felt that he had finally emerged from it in this competition moved me deeply. In the free skate, he gave everything he had. "I didn't think I could win with this point difference. I just wanted to skate in a way that I could be satisfied with. But I hadn't given up." He went on to win. I wanted to tell Kozuka, who had rediscovered his own skating, "Welcome back!" Meanwhile, third-place finisher Tatsuki Machida became a Grand Prix Series medalist for the first time at the age of 23, like a late-blooming flower finally opening. Like Hanyu, he had been landing his quads well in practice, with such precision that I thought it would be terribly frustrating if he failed to land them in competition. That was precisely why his mistakes on the quad and triple Axel in the free skate were such a shame. Even so, he earned high Program Component Scores (PCS) and finished third overall. As recently as the previous year, his PCS had typically ranged from the upper sixes to the mid-sevens. At this event, however, he received three scores in the eights, including 8.18 for Interpretation of the Music. Unlike Technical Element Scores, which can rise sharply when a skater improves technical skills such as jumps, Program Component Scores rarely increase so dramatically in such a short time. The secret lay in the innovative programs he had prepared for this season. His short program, choreographed by Swiss world champion Stéphane Lambiel, featured club music. It had attracted attention as a modern program of a kind rarely seen in figure skating. His free skate was The Firebird, choreographed by ballet dancer Philippe Mills. Although the music was classical, the program was filled with striking movements that made him seem to become the bird itself, drawing out 100% of Machida's passion. This season, Machida had been deeply involved in developing his programs, taking the initiative from the very beginning when commissioning the two choreographers. He also gave it his all during official practice, and his striking performances had already caught the judges' attention before the competition began. His scores this time were likely recognition of all these efforts. A skater suddenly mastering a quad and making rapid progress is a familiar story. But it is extremely rare for someone to make a breakthrough by using programs they have personally developed as a weapon and rapidly improving their artistic scores. Once a skater achieves high Program Component Scores, maintaining them at that level should not be too difficult. Machida deserves applause not only for winning his first Grand Prix Series medal, but also for the remarkable progress he has made in other areas. The strength that comes from emerging from a major slump. The ability to develop one's artistry through one's own initiative. Having these qualities displayed before him by two senior skaters, Hanyu may have learned something from them as well, something he himself had yet to acquire.

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%93 https://web.archive.org/web/20220518091018/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012110100009.html 2012.11.02 Beyond the Dream 3 - Report on the first GP event, "Skate America" (Part 1) Someone who surpasses P. Chan In this series, I have been reporting on Yuzuru Hanyu, who had only just arrived in Toronto, Canada, for the current season. But the figure skating season is already underway. Alongside these reports, I would also like to bring you real-time accounts of his progress in competition, including his struggles and battles along the way. On October 19, 2012, at Skate America (Kent, Washington), the first event of the Grand Prix Series, Yuzuru Hanyu was in exceptionally good form, even during the official practice session the day before the competition. Official practice sessions (three in total at this competition) are held on the same rink as the actual competition, with each skater given several sessions lasting 30–40 minutes. Coaches, team officials, judges, and members of the press all gather to observe the skaters and assess their condition. In Japan, practice sessions are often closed to everyone except those directly involved in the competition. At Skate America, however, practice was open to the general public as well. The official practice sessions took place amid cheers from eager fans. At the top level, skaters differ greatly in how they use this time. Some take it easy the day before the competition, simply getting a feel for the ice. Others jump as much as they can or skate through their entire programs as if they were already competing, trying to impress the judges. In a regular competition, six skaters typically share the ice during the same warm-up session, while in the Grand Prix Series, there are five. As elite skaters from around the world who have qualified for the Grand Prix compete for space on the same rink, the session can become a subtle game of trying to figure out how much each competitor is willing to reveal about their capabilities. “Isn't watching official practice more interesting than watching the actual competition?” One reporter even exclaimed this, eyes wide with excitement. Amid all this, Yuzuru Hanyu was in such outstanding form that anyone could see it. He kept landing key jumps, including the quadruple toe loop, quadruple Salchow, and triple Axel, as if to say, “Look what I can do!” He was also fully immersed in his program. Skating to the music of Notre-Dame de Paris, he showed how much more mature he had become in the short time since the World Championships. “When he's in such good form, it actually makes me worried.” One person involved with the team, who had also accompanied him to the competition in Finland, remarked with a slightly wry smile. Hanyu's first real competition of the season, the Finlandia Trophy, had already taken place in early October. Although it was an International B-level event, not on the same level as the six Grand Prix Series competitions, it attracted formidable skaters such as Spain's Javier Fernández and America's Johnny Weir. Hanyu won the event by successfully landing both a quadruple toe loop and a quadruple Salchow, a result that generated considerable buzz. What made an even greater impression than the result itself was that he had successfully landed two different types of quadruple jumps right from his first competition. When one of Japan's top skaters heard the news, he exclaimed in amazement, “Amazing! So we're already in that kind of era...” Would Hanyu land two different types of quadruple jumps at Skate America as well? There was no doubt that this was the main point to watch. Everyone was left astounded by the sheer ease with which he kept landing quadruple jumps during official practice. However, hearing what had happened behind the scenes at the Finlandia Trophy paints a less reassuring picture. Before that competition, Hanyu had been in terrible condition. His asthma attacks, which tended to flare up during seasonal changes, had been particularly severe. He could barely practice, let alone eat properly. His already slender frame had reportedly looked even more gaunt. During official practice, he was so weak and unsteady that he appeared to be suffering from anemia. He fell repeatedly, so often that he even injured his hip joint. “At Finland, he really only managed to get the jumps right when it came to the actual competition. He's so good under pressure!” remarked an official from the skating federation, clearly impressed. That was why, going into his second competition, Skate America, his almost unbelievably good form during official practice left some people feeling a little bewildered. For Hanyu himself, there was another major challenge he had set his sights on at this competition, alongside landing the two types of quadruple jumps. At the Finlandia Trophy, his physical condition had been so poor that he had focused almost entirely on landing his jumps, leaving virtually none of the program's appeal on display. He had been frustrated by this and had reflected on what went wrong. “Especially the transitions and steps in my free skate... They were still far from good enough. So over these past two weeks, I've done a lot of mental training. The story of Notre-Dame, my free program, is still only a rough outline, but I've been creating the story myself... I've also been listening to the music a lot, trying to feel what emotions emerge from within me. I've been working on making sure I can express those feelings properly through my movements.” He had also received revisions to his program from Toronto-based choreographer David Wilson in the short time available. Determined to make up for his inability to express the program in his first competition, Hanyu had been eagerly awaiting his second event. However, an unexpected problem arose. He had been scheduled to travel from Toronto to Seattle two days before the competition, but lengthy immigration procedures prevented him from boarding his flight. He ended up spending the night at Toronto airport. He spent an entire day in a hotel without being able to practice at all. During that time and throughout the flight, he kept mentally rehearsing his quadruple jumps and his program. “I can finally skate!” At the official practice session immediately after arriving in Seattle, he unleashed all the pent-up frustration and accumulated mental preparation he had been holding inside. The result was a practice session in which he skated with explosive energy and outstanding form. “I was surprised he had such a good practice despite all the problems,” said coach Brian Orser, who had seemed a little anxious before the session. “Full of energy? Well, I didn't do anything yesterday, after all. I've put the whole incident behind me, and I think I skated well during practice. Now all I have to do is trust in what I've been working on, stay calm, and do my best!” (Yuzuru) Short Program: A New World Record Score! He had set out to do his best and stay calm. Even so, he could hardly have expected that a world-record score awaited him at the end of it. His short program was choreographed by Canada's own former world champion, Jeffrey Buttle. Parisienne Walkways, with its blues-inspired style, was such a mature choice that some people had wondered even before the season began, “Isn't this a little too much for someone so young?” The other skaters in his group were Jeremy Abbott of the United States, Tomáš Verner of the Czech Republic, and Takahiko Kozuka of Japan. All were known for their superb skating skills. Abbott was 27, Verner 26, and Kozuka 23. Simply by standing on the ice, they could project a mature, composed charisma that the 17-year-old Hanyu could hardly hope to match, even if he stood on his head. Yet Hanyu's fresh, youthful take on the blues, as if doing everything he could to challenge his “older brothers,” had already caught people's attention during official practice that morning. “But his skating still has a long way to go.” Brian Orser said this in a calm voice. Having watched Hanyu through official practice, Orser was probably the person least satisfied with his skating. “By now, the fact that Yuzuru can land jumps is a given. That's why Tracy and I have been trying all along to get him to focus more on practicing his skating skills and spins. We keep thinking that if his skating becomes more solid, he'll gain even more confidence...” Orser did not expect Hanyu to master the essence of skating in just a few months. Even so, he wanted him to practice more. With a smile that also betrayed a hint of frustration, he watched his beloved student head into the short program. That was why, when Orser saw Hanyu's score of 95.07 points after the short program, his comment to the assembled reporters, “I'm not surprised. I knew he could do it!”, sounded more like an attempt to conceal his own astonishment. A quadruple jump so light it took one's breath away with its beauty. A combination spin that was supremely natural, making full use of his flexible body. A confident expression and a strong gaze fixed straight ahead at the arena. A remarkable ability to transform his fierce fighting spirit into sensuality through the music... And then there was the composure to calmly show off all the weapons at his disposal to the audience. Determined not to repeat his experience at the Finlandia Trophy, he was in excellent physical condition and mentally ready. For the first time, Orser witnessed firsthand the full force of Hanyu's ability to deliver when it mattered most. Even for those of us who had known him since his junior days, Hanyu's short program was so cool that his sheer audacity was almost infuriating. He had already performed Parisienne Walkways at ice shows in Japan, but this was the first time he had presented it in competition with all his jumps successfully landed. It was a “New Yuzuru” unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. “There were so many Japanese people in the audience today, weren't there? Seeing the Japanese flags and banners with my name on them put me at ease, and I think that helped me give the kind of performance I normally would! Before skating, I was a little conscious of the fact that I wasn't yet used to competing with this program. Compared with last year, I hadn't skated in front of audiences as many times at summer ice shows... Even so, I'm glad I was able to give this kind of performance right from the start! For now, I'm just relieved.” Even after stepping off the ice, Hanyu himself remained composed. At the press conference following the short program, an announcement was made: “Today's score for Yuzuru Hanyu is the highest in history, surpassing those of Takahashi and Chan.” Questions from the reporters then focused overwhelmingly on him. Even so, Hanyu himself was the first to point out something that surprised the assembled adults. “The 1.1-times bonus for jumps in the second half of the short program was introduced just this year. I think this record score came about because the rules changed.” “I didn't think I'd get as much as 95 points (laughs). I'm surprised by how high the score is. But I'm trying not to think about it as the highest score in history or as a score no one has ever achieved before. It's still only the short program, so I don't want to get too carried away. I want to stay firmly in control until the entire competition is over.” As Hanyu pointed out, the high quality of his triple Axel and triple-triple combination in the second half of the program was significant. These jumps earned him grades of execution that had not been awarded under the previous season's rules. In the press room, some also suggested that Hanyu's score had been pushed up to a world record because he had performed even better than Takahiko Kozuka, who had skated just before him and earned a high score with an excellent performance. However, one remark from an international judge struck me as the most convincing explanation of what had happened. “Everyone had been waiting for this. The arrival of a new star who could defeat Patrick Chan!” Patrick Chan, the reigning world champion, had won the World Championships for two consecutive years. With 10 victories in 12 competitions over the previous two seasons, would this Canadian go on to win the Sochi Olympics as well? This was the biggest question hanging over the world of men's singles figure skating. The reason Chan was so highly regarded was that he possessed both a formidable weapon in the form of his quadruple jumps and the fundamental appeal of figure skating: superb skating skills. He excelled at both to an extraordinary degree. As a result, for two years, the situation had been such that if Chan landed two quadruple jumps in his free skate, no matter how well any other skater performed, they could not beat him. Conversely, there had also been many competitions in which Chan could make one or even two jumping errors and still receive a higher score than other skaters who had delivered perfect performances. In fact, during the previous season, Chan had rarely landed all his jumps perfectly in competition. Yet it was a season in which other skaters almost never managed to score higher than him. Surely it was about time someone showed they could be stronger than Chan. Even among those who were not judges, many people involved in the sport and many fans must have felt the same way. And so, as the new season began, the first event of the Grand Prix Series brought an astonishing performance from Yuzuru Hanyu. What expression did the 17-year-old, carrying such enormous expectations, wear? “Being able to win even when you fall. That kind of situation can't be fun for Chan either. It can't be enjoyable for him!” That's why I have to catch up with him. More than anyone else, Hanyu himself was acutely conscious of his role as the one who would surpass Chan.

Thank you so much, Jenn, for digging up the details and clarifying the timeline. It’s wonderful that Nanami was far more open-minded than Eteri or Boyang’s coach. She supported Yuzu’s decision, even though it meant losing her most promising skater. Yuzu also handled the transition with great maturity, which is why he has been able to maintain such a good relationship with Nanami even after they parted ways (better than the way Yuna Kim separated from Brian Orser).

Source: https://web.archive.org/web/20150227200720/https://webronza.asahi.com/national/articles/2012103100009.html 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 2012.11.01 Beyond the Dream 2 - The Future He Envisions with Coach Orser Yuzuru Hanyu's quest for a medal “I saw a red canary!” In May, the sunshine in Toronto, Canada, was bright and direct, and the lush greenery was almost dazzling. The parks scattered throughout the city were home to plenty of small animals, and just as I was enjoying watching the squirrels dart around, I heard: “Squirrels are everywhere. I saw a red canary!” Yuzuru Hanyu said this with a slightly boastful air on his third day in Toronto. By the time I arrived, having come later than he did, he already seemed to know his way around. Red canaries are rare. A local had told him that seeing one was a sign of good luck. Toronto is his first overseas training base. His ankle, injured at the World Championships in March, has yet to heal. He is also facing the usual troubles of living abroad, including difficulty finding an apartment. The rink at the Toronto Cricket Club, which is supposed to become his home rink, is currently being resurfaced, so he has been forced to lead a nomadic existence, moving from rink to rink in and around Toronto right from the start. Despite this situation, having to force himself through practice with energy drinks because his body had yet to adjust to the time difference, Yuzuru Hanyu was in high spirits. Even the smallest lucky charm was enough to lift his spirits. He certainly had his own worries about the sudden move to Toronto. Leaving Coach Nanami Abe, whom he had trained under since sixth grade, was painful. And although his mother would accompany him for a while, he also felt uneasy about being separated from his father and sister. “Honestly, I wanted my whole family to come to Toronto with me!” Even though he is a top athlete, he is still a 17-year-old boy. Of course, he did not choose his training base and contact a foreign coach entirely on his own. There had been advice from various people and plenty of discussion. But ultimately, the decision was his. “I think I probably trusted the people who recommended it to me. There were so many people, including my family, who were concerned about me in different ways and showed me the way forward. I thought that if there were people waiting for me along that path, I would go there. “And then there was the fact that I was able to give such a performance at the World Championships! I received such high praise and achieved that placing. That helped me feel satisfied with what I had accomplished. I had the feeling that I had done everything I needed to do in my previous training environment. It was precisely because I had made it onto the podium that I wanted to absorb even more from then on. “Until now, my skating had been confined within the framework of Japan, hadn't it? I didn't know what the outside world was like. But if I went to Toronto and trained with a new coach, and learned to think about skating from a different perspective... wouldn't I be able to change even more? Wouldn't I be able to see more of the world? I wanted to take another step forward and shed another layer of my skin! To strengthen my determination to compete at the Sochi Olympics, I couldn't keep doing things the same way as before. I had to try something new.” These were the words he spoke shortly after arriving in Toronto, and they express the feelings he has continued to explain whenever he is asked why he changed coaches. However, I suspect that some of this was a little like justifying the decision after the fact. First, he decided to go. Only afterward did the feelings well up within him: “Going really was the right decision after all. I'm glad I came.” At the time, alongside those who encouraged Yuzuru Hanyu to go overseas, there were also quite a few people who opposed the move. Being perceptive, he was aware that many people would bear responsibility for his decision, and that the standing of those who had worked hard to support him could change depending on his future results. “There are all kinds of people, so I have to work hard for everyone who has supported me, too. That does put pressure on me. But I love pressure! If people have expectations of me, it makes me feel that I have to work hard.” To The Next Even though he could put all these feelings into words, he had not truly grasped what it would be like to train under a new coach until he actually arrived in Toronto. He still had lingering doubts and anxieties. I had even heard stories of how, before reaching his decision, he had overthought things until he became confused and cried continuously for three or four hours. “But you know, I've already come to Toronto. Training has already started. Now that I've come this far, I feel like, well, that's that! If this is going to make me better, then everything is OK.” Yuzuru Hanyu sometimes becomes strangely hyperactive when his excitement builds, such as just before a competition or during an ice show. His first few days in Toronto had much the same feel. When I remarked that he seemed happy, he replied: “I am happy!” he exclaimed, flailing his arms and legs. He had come to this city after weathering the emotional upheaval brought on by changing coaches, along with all the various practical hassles. He had finally made peace with his decision. Once he had put all those worries behind him, all that remained was a sense of excitement. Everything was new to him, from the people he met to the environment around him. The fresh greenery of Toronto seemed almost to bathe the city in light just for Yuzuru Hanyu. His new coach, Brian Orser, welcomed his new student with a broad smile. “This is the time of year when skaters from all over the world make moves, just after the World Championships have finished. Some skaters leave me, while others want to come and train with me. Amid all these changes... Yuzuru is the biggest surprise of the year. I never imagined he would come to me.” A Canadian hero, Brian Orser won silver medals at the 1984 and 1988 Olympic Games. At the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, he coached South Korea's Kim Yuna and guided her to Olympic gold. This brought him widespread recognition as a coach, but his coaching career was actually not all that long. This was the first time Brian Orser had taken on a Japanese skater in a full-fledged coaching capacity. “He's a good jumper, but his skating skills still have a long way to go.” Orser made this assessment and spent some time devoting himself almost exclusively to his new student. At first, he coached Hanyu in a way that was almost like private lessons, carefully observing him. Orser's students competing at the highest international level included two skaters: Javier Fernandez, representing Spain in men's skating, and Elene Gedevanishvili, representing Georgia in women's skating. Besides them, he also had many young students, including Nam Nguyen, a promising Canadian junior men's skater. Since the previous season had only just ended, Fernandez was on vacation. Even so, around ten to twenty skaters, mainly young local athletes, were usually gathered at the rink. Under normal circumstances, Orser coached this group alongside several assistant coaches, including Tracy Wilson, who was responsible for skating skills. But during the first few days after their initial meeting, Orser's priority was to get to know Yuzuru Hanyu. He had him try all sorts of things, from jumps and spins to steps. And rather than simply watching Hanyu move, he put on his own skates, stepped onto the ice, and actively demonstrated the movements himself. “Can you jump like this?” Orser could casually demonstrate something like a double Axel. “And he's really good at it,” Yuzuru remarked. “Can you do this kind of movement between steps?” Hanyu tried to imitate the movements that Orser performed so effortlessly, sometimes landing flat on his backside with a heavy thud. Orser would laugh theatrically, as if to say, “You can't even do this?” But Hanyu seemed to enjoy discovering what he couldn't do, and he tried again and again. “I bet all the little kids are thinking the same thing. ‘How can someone who can't even do this be third in the world?’ ‘What? So he's only good at jumps!’” He had placed third at the World Championships. Yet Japanese skaters, who had developed their strengths primarily through jumping, often struggled surprisingly with playful movements on the ice and more intricate steps. This reminded me of the way so many skaters, including Fumie Suguri and Mao Asada, had spoken enthusiastically about the things they had learned overseas: “I learned this over there,” or “They taught me this kind of movement, too.” Yuzuru Hanyu had been skating for thirteen years already. Even so, there were still many movements he was trying for the first time, and when it came to this kind of practice, the children who had grown up in Canada were far more adept than he was. After practice, having overworked muscles he had never used before, he would take even more care of his body than usual. “My main impression is that Brian can still do all kinds of movements on the ice. Whether it's jumps or steps, he demonstrates them himself. I'm the type who learns by watching, visualizing, and absorbing things, so I think his teaching style suits me really well.” Orser really does move around on the ice to a remarkable degree. I have watched training sessions involving all kinds of top skaters, both in Japan and overseas, but coaches usually stand at the side of the rink and give instructions from there. Sometimes the head coach gives directions while a younger, more agile assistant coach demonstrates the movements on the ice. But I have never seen a lesson in which the main coach himself moves around so actively. When Tracy Wilson leads the skating-skills lesson, she demonstrates various skating movements on the ice, with the students following behind her. At the very end of the line, following along after the little children, is Orser himself. When Yuzuru struggles with one of Wilson's more intricate jump entries, Orser proudly demonstrates it himself, as if to say, “This is how you do it. Even I can do it!” “Brian moves around so much. Why doesn't he lose weight?” someone in the gallery remarks. Everyone moves around on the ice, using broad gestures and expressive movements. The rink in Toronto is filled with a lively atmosphere that has a distinctly different character from that of Japanese rinks. Having only recently returned from injury, Yuzuru is still out of shape, and he is simply happy to be able to spend time on the ice. He is also delighted to try all kinds of movements he has never been taught before. Even when he can't manage them, or takes a spectacular fall and is teased by the little children, he laughs happily. Each session lasts an hour, and he trains about three times a day. He could never get this much practice time at the crowded rink in Sendai, so the freedom to skate as much as he wants is allowing him to spread his wings to the fullest. “This is amazing! Just thinking that I get to learn from these coaches here, all the time, makes me so happy!” How much better will he be able to become here? His face lights up with anticipation. “Brian and I have only skated together for three days, so I guess you could say we're still in a trial period. But he's already been making little adjustments to various things in my jumps and skating. I think he's planning to change me gradually from the inside out. Even with something as simple as a jump, I think quite a lot will change, such as how I bring my feet together at the moment of takeoff and how I use my arms. “Brian said, ‘Your jumps are fairly consistent for now. Let's start your skating skills again from scratch.’ Tracy is teaching me enthusiastically, too. Now it's up to me to properly master what my coaches teach me! I need the motivation and determination to do that. “It's also nice to know that I don't have to learn everything immediately. I'll be skating here for a long time, so Brian will teach me things little by little. He'll take his time until each thing has really become established within me. If, for example, this were a two-week training camp in Russia, I'd be rushing to learn everything in a short time, thinking, ‘I have to learn it all now!’ and trying to cram everything in at once.” By just the third day of lessons, Yuzuru Hanyu and Coach Brian Orser were already talking about the future. “Brian said we should think in terms of a six-year span. He said, ‘Six years from now, you'll be a gold medalist!’” Hanyu recalled with a laugh. A few days later, he had successfully found an apartment, too. In all sorts of ways, things were beginning to fall into place in this city.