Kwan Finds Out Her Best Is Still Colored Silver

She wore blue velvet.

A woman’s voice did her introduction, in Japanese, English and French, at 9:33 p.m. on the dot.

Michelle Kwan gave a wave with both arms. White ice skates took her to a mark in the White Ring rink. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, beaded. A golden Chinese good-luck charm was around her neck, a gift from her grandmother.

In the last sextet of the night, the 17-year-old from California had to go first. (Luck of the draw.) Every eye was on her. A crowd of a few thousand applauded demurely and hushed abruptly, as Japan’s audiences tend to do. Kwan froze like a statue and closed her eyes.

Then her music began: “Lyra Angelica,” by William Alwyn, a concerto for string and harp.

And that’s how she skated to it, like an angel.

For four minutes, right up to a dramatic last move known as a “death drop,” nothing noticeable went wrong. She was a figure skater in first place. She figured to stay there.

Kwan came up laughing, sobbing, then laughing again. Later she would describe it as feeling, “Omigod, this can’t be happening. I landed all my jumps. I don’t think I was perfect, but I was really thrilled with how I skated.

“I wanted to pinch myself. I almost did.”

If she needed to know this was real, nine judges confirmed it.

From left to right: 5.7, 5.7, 5.8, 5.7, 5.8, 5.8, 5.7, 5.7, 5.8. Not spectacular, but solid, adequate, on target. The higher technical marks came courtesy of the Austrian, American, Russian and French judges.

Then the bottom line.

The artistic scores: 5.9s across the board.

“I did what I came to do. I really enjoyed my performance,” Kwan said, and so had everyone else.

The gold medal was as good as hers. She would probably go directly from the White Ring to the White House. Be queen of the Nagano Olympics. Show why Newsweek had put her on the cover. Become only the third American woman to win this gold medal in 30 years. Win one for everyone back home in Torrance, where she was brought up, and in Lake Arrowhead, where she is based.

As long as Tara Lipinski didn’t do anything extraordinary.

Kwan couldn’t bear to look.

“I didn’t watch Tara’s performance,” she said. “I rushed over to see my mom.”

Her rush must have taken 16 minutes. That’s how much time passed between Kwan’s departure and the beginning of Lipinski’s performance.

Three other skaters went on before Lipinski.

Replaying her own performance in her mind, Kwan thought back to the flying camel spin 1:28 into her routine, the music change to Eric Satie’s “Gymnopedie No. 3,” the next three moves that preceded what is known as a “sit spin into a Kwan spin,” then back to her original music at the 2:49 mark and a big finish, triple salchow, combination spin, triple lutz, spiral sequence, triple toe loop, death drop.

Lovely. Almost perfect.

Her mother and father and sister thought so, too.

Had she left the door ajar for Lipinski to slip through?

“When I got off the ice, I wasn’t thinking, ‘Did I leave a door open?’ I was thinking, ‘This is a wonderful moment.’

“It was a magical time for me.”

Asked what else she was thinking, Kwan freely acknowledged, “Am I going to win, or am I going to be second?”

The answer came at 10:03 p.m. here.

That was the moment Lipinski saw her own scores and let out a shriek, which is what Kwan must have felt like doing.

She had gone from queen to lady-in-waiting, just like that. Not a death drop. Merely a painful one.

Did she disagree with the judges? She couldn’t. She hadn’t even seen Lipinski’s performance. Kwan knew no more about it than all her friends back in California, fast asleep.

Those friends would have been proud of her.

However beautifully she skated, it paled compared to how beautifully Michelle Kwan accepted being second-best. Graciously and generously, Kwan praised a champion she never saw. She covered up how much it hurt until teardrops spilled down her cheeks, just listening to Lipinski speak.

Before the 1994 medal ceremony, silver medalist Nancy Kerrigan was overheard saying of the winner, Oksana Baiul, “She’s going to get out here and cry again.”

Michelle Kwan showed how to be a winner, even when you haven’t won.

“I knew this competition wasn’t a piece of cake,” she said. “I was here looking for a good performance. I came out of it with one. There’s nothing more I could have done, I truly believe that.

“It might not be the color medal I wanted, but I’ll take it.”

With a silver gem at White Ring, she still possessed a golden charm.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Past Champions

1908 Ulrich Salchow, Sweden

1920 Gillis Grafstrom, Sweden

1924 Gillis Grafstrom, Sweden

1928 Gillis Grafstrom, Sweden

1932 Karl Schaefer, Austria

1936 Karl Schaefer, Austria

1948 Dick Button, United States

1952 Dick Button, United States

1956 Hayes Jenkins, United States

1960 David W. Jenkins, United States

1964 Manfred Schnelldorfer, Germany

1968 Wolfgang Schwartz, Austria

1972 Ondrej Nepela, Czechoslovakia

1976 John Curry, Britain

1980 Robin Cousins, Britain

1984 Scott Hamilton, United States

1988 Brian Boitano, United States

1992 Viktor Petrenko, Unified

1994 Alexei Urmanov, Russia

1998 Ilia Kulik, Russia

1908 Madge Syers, Britain

1920 Magda Julin, Sweden

1924 Herma von Szabo-Plank, Austria

1928 Sonja Henie, Norway

1932 Sonja Henie, Norway

1936 Sonja Henie, Norway

1948 Barbara Ann Scott, Canada

1952 Jeanette Altwegg, Britain

1956 Tenley Albright, United States

1960 Carol Heiss, United States

1964 Sjourkje Dijkstra, Holland

1968 Peggy Fleming, United States

1972 Beatrix Schuba, Austria

1976 Dorothy Hamill, United States

1980 Anett Potzsch, Germany

1984 Katarina Witt, East Germany

1988 Katarina Witt, East Germany

1992 Kristi Yamaguchi, United States

1994 Oksana Baiul, Ukraine

1998 Tara Lipinski, United States