He skated up the ice and passed the puck to his teammate, number 12, Jarome Iginla. Iginla passed it back and he shot. The crowd, dressed in red and white, held their breath as the puck sailed through the air. It landed in the net. The crowd erupted into cheers and number 87 threw his gloves and stick high into the air, crashed against the boards, and whooped. His teammates swarmed him. He had just scored the sudden-death overtime goal in the Olympic gold medal game. Against the Americans. At home, in Vancouver. With the home crowd watching. He was the hero of the game. The hero of the day. The hero of the entire Olympics. Canada was thrilled to get their record-setting fourteenth medal of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games. Team Canada was thrilled that Crosby ended the game with a win. Crosby looked like he was pretty thrilled about the goal too.
Sidney Crosby is without a doubt Canada's current athletic hero. I'm so relieved I can't type any more. Go Canada! I love my country, I love hockey, and I love the winter Olympics!!
Showing posts with label Winter Olympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter Olympics. Show all posts
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Short program
She skates onto the ice for the pre-skate warm-up. The camera focuses on the woman whose blond hair is pulled tightly back into a bun as she skates around the rink. A camera shot shows a man sitting in the stands wearing a red long-sleeved shirt with the stylized word "believe" incorporated into a maple leaf. Her father. He, unlike other parents of Olympic athletes, looks somber, almost sorrowful. The camera moves back to the skater. She bends to retie a lace, then straightens and continues her warm-up skate.
The three NBC commentators exchange dialogue but viewers tune out the comments as their eyes are fixed on the figure skater, until one sentence breaks through. "And she hasn't missed a practice since this has happened. It's like she's found solace on the ice." The announcer tells the skaters that the warm-up has concluded and to please clear the ice. Then the crowd starts cheering their encouragement to the one skater who remains in the rink. "I can't imagine . . ." another commentator trails off.
She skates over to the boards and exchanges high fives with her coach. The cameraman focuses on her face as her eyes tear up. She reaches for her water bottle and swallows down her emotion with the water. The camera cuts back to her father, who claps with a small sad smile on his face and adjusts his earpiece. She gets one last pep-talk, one last bit of advice from her coach, and then she pushes off the side boards and circles to centre ice. She stops and sets up her starting pose. For one long moment she is perfectly still. And then the music starts and she beings with sweeping arm gestures.
For the next two and a half minutes the crowd in the arena and the viewers watching at home sit spellbound, captivated as the dynamic woman skates her way into their hearts with precise jumps, complicated footwork, stunning spins, and a passion that shines through every element of her short program.
She finishes with a flourish and then bites her lip to keep from sobbing as the crowd, cheering wildly, gives her a standing ovation. She bends, hand to her face, unable to mask her emotions any longer. She straightens and skates, hand moving from her face to her neck, face contorted as she tries to regain her composure. Her father is once again shown on the screen, standing and clapping, his smile a mix of grief and pride. She returns to the Vancouver 2010 Olympic logo in the middle of the rink, and bows to the audience on all sides.
Finally the commentators speak. "There's no bigger stage than the Olympic games, but," Scott Hamilton, voice cracking, pauses to regain his composure before continuing, "this skate and the moment means much more than the competition."
"Such a touching moment," says Tom Hammond.
"What a gift she's given us," adds Sandra Bezic.
She skates from centre ice to the results area, her coach enveloping her in a hug as she finally lets out a sob.
She sits down to wait for her score and her coach asks, "How are you?" in French. She responds, "d'accord," OK. Her score is announced: 71.36, a personal best that puts her in third place, which she remains in at the end of the night. She was fifth at the Turin Olympics in 2006 and, until several days ago, her main focus in these Olympic games was to move up from that spot and claim a medal. Her name is Joannie Rochette, six-time and current Canadian champion figure skater, and last year's world champion silver medalist. But none of that, not even her impressive score, matters tonight. Her skate meant so much more than numbers or a medal position because on Sunday morning her mother, who had traveled from her hometown in Quebec to Vancouver to watch her skate, died of a sudden heart attack. It was her mother Rochette was skating for.
Video: Emotional Rochette in third
Article: Rochette fights through grief
The three NBC commentators exchange dialogue but viewers tune out the comments as their eyes are fixed on the figure skater, until one sentence breaks through. "And she hasn't missed a practice since this has happened. It's like she's found solace on the ice." The announcer tells the skaters that the warm-up has concluded and to please clear the ice. Then the crowd starts cheering their encouragement to the one skater who remains in the rink. "I can't imagine . . ." another commentator trails off.
She skates over to the boards and exchanges high fives with her coach. The cameraman focuses on her face as her eyes tear up. She reaches for her water bottle and swallows down her emotion with the water. The camera cuts back to her father, who claps with a small sad smile on his face and adjusts his earpiece. She gets one last pep-talk, one last bit of advice from her coach, and then she pushes off the side boards and circles to centre ice. She stops and sets up her starting pose. For one long moment she is perfectly still. And then the music starts and she beings with sweeping arm gestures.
For the next two and a half minutes the crowd in the arena and the viewers watching at home sit spellbound, captivated as the dynamic woman skates her way into their hearts with precise jumps, complicated footwork, stunning spins, and a passion that shines through every element of her short program.
She finishes with a flourish and then bites her lip to keep from sobbing as the crowd, cheering wildly, gives her a standing ovation. She bends, hand to her face, unable to mask her emotions any longer. She straightens and skates, hand moving from her face to her neck, face contorted as she tries to regain her composure. Her father is once again shown on the screen, standing and clapping, his smile a mix of grief and pride. She returns to the Vancouver 2010 Olympic logo in the middle of the rink, and bows to the audience on all sides.
Finally the commentators speak. "There's no bigger stage than the Olympic games, but," Scott Hamilton, voice cracking, pauses to regain his composure before continuing, "this skate and the moment means much more than the competition."
"Such a touching moment," says Tom Hammond.
"What a gift she's given us," adds Sandra Bezic.
She skates from centre ice to the results area, her coach enveloping her in a hug as she finally lets out a sob.
She sits down to wait for her score and her coach asks, "How are you?" in French. She responds, "d'accord," OK. Her score is announced: 71.36, a personal best that puts her in third place, which she remains in at the end of the night. She was fifth at the Turin Olympics in 2006 and, until several days ago, her main focus in these Olympic games was to move up from that spot and claim a medal. Her name is Joannie Rochette, six-time and current Canadian champion figure skater, and last year's world champion silver medalist. But none of that, not even her impressive score, matters tonight. Her skate meant so much more than numbers or a medal position because on Sunday morning her mother, who had traveled from her hometown in Quebec to Vancouver to watch her skate, died of a sudden heart attack. It was her mother Rochette was skating for.
Video: Emotional Rochette in third
Article: Rochette fights through grief
Friday, February 12, 2010
Torch Run
She wore a white track suit with ocean blue and jade green patterns on the jacket and pant legs. She ran. Past the waves beating on the rocky coastline, past sky scrapers, past cheering school children, past crowds of people lining the sides of the road. In her left hand she held a flaming white torch high above her head. She waved her right, red-mittened hand at the screaming onlookers. For one second she stopped smiling at the faces blurring on either side of her as she ran and looked down at her right hand. On the palm side of the ruby mitten, a white maple leaf. On the top, the words "Vancouver 2010." She looked back up and saw, 50 meters ahead, a man sitting and waiting in a wheelchair in the middle of the road, dressed in a white track suit with ocean blue and jade green patterns on the jacket and pant legs. He had ruby red mittens on his hands. Attached to his chair was a white torch, ready to be lit so he could wheel it into the Opening Ceremonies and pass it off to four more Canadian notables who would light the Olympic Cauldron and officially start the 2010 Winter Games.
(I love the Olympics, especially the winter Olympics, especially when they're in my home province. Yay, for the long-awaited start of the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games!!)
(I love the Olympics, especially the winter Olympics, especially when they're in my home province. Yay, for the long-awaited start of the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games!!)
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