Hilarious article in the Times, about a rivalry in men’s figure skating. Can’t make this up:
One stands 6 feet 2 inches, wears panther black and dates ESPN’s Hottest Female Athlete. The other weighs an avian 125 pounds, favors sequined swan outfits and coyly brushes off patter about his sexuality.
One skates with precision and adrenalized power, wants figure skating in the X Games and wears several days of stubble during competitions. The other adores skating’s operatic performances, is asked if his eyelashes are real and announces that they are.
One is accused of being robotic and rehearsed. The other is the one doing the accusing — saying “I just don’t like him,” before buttoning his fur coat and grabbing his Louis Vuitton bag.
Evan Lysacek and Johnny Weir share nothing — except their status as the top two figure skaters in the United States. The closest they ever hope to be is on a medal podium.
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“If he doesn’t want to skate to music that’s pretty and wear a pretty costume, then go rollerblade or skateboard or do one of those extreme sports,” Weir said of Lysacek.
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“There’s a whole dimension of skating that hasn’t been broken into,” Lysacek said over a post-training dinner last month. “Not just on a flat surface. Something way crazier. Maybe more like aerial skiing.”
Upon hearing these ideas, Weir shuddered.
Like a real life Talladega Nights.
That picture is priceless. I can’t tell if everything is going according to plan or if everything is going horribly wrong.