The Rogue Speaks:
...the harder they fall!
After my comments on men's figure skating, I am embarrassed to tell you that I watched the finals last night. After having seen a clip on Evgni Plushenko in which he called his competitors his enemies, and announced to the world that he came out of retirement only to prove that he is superior to everyone in the field, I decided to watch the show.
Evan Lysacek skated brilliantly. His poise was not born of arrogance, but of the peace within himself that he had garnered for this last test. He placed his performance into the hands of his muse with humility, and then skated to a well-deserved victory.
When Plushenko, the arrogant braggart, cock-sure and surly, finished his performance, he stood in front of the judges and held up his index fingers. "You see??" those long slender fingers proclaimed, "I am the best!"
Then Plushenko's scores were posted, and someone yelled, "Evan Lysacek has won the gold!" Lysacek's eyes popped open in disbelief. He wasn't sure he had heard correctly. When he realized that he had won, a smile of utter joy spread across his face. Had he really won? YES, HE HAD!
Plushenko stood a step below victory on the podium, ramrod straight, like some Russian military figure, staring out into the arena, his hands behind his back. That is what the defeat of arrogance looks like. In his head, I suspect, he was sure that he had been cheated out of what he deserved, that he was really superior, and that medal should have been his!
Lysacek bent his head to accept the medal. His smile was joyous, and came from a heart that was both warm and content. He did what he had come to do, and he was the champion. HURRAH!