How do you know that your choice in
career paths was probably not
well thought out? When the
Ice Capades is the
pinnacle of your
profession.
I was riding down the road this afternoon listening to local radio
when I heard a commercial for an skating show coming to a local
venue in January. The names that the announcer was saying with
grave but excited intensity were generally familiar to me:
The names brought visions of people in
spandex skating to classical
music while doing
spins and
twirls. They evoked mysterious names like
triple
salcow and quandruple
lutz. The names made me remember
evening after evening in the dead of winter watching people I had
never heard of compete for the right to be called the best in the
world at
ice skating.
After thinking about it for a while and idly considering whether or
not I should look into buying tickets and take my wife, it suddenly
occurred to me what a disappointing career choice professional
skater must be. You spend years perfecting your craft, training for
hours and hours, giving up all semblance of a normal life for your
dream to be a professional skater. You compete and compete, attempting
to prove to a group of judges that your technique and your artistry
places your skating above that of all your competitors. And if you
are good enough and win the title of world champion or even better
the gold medal at the Olympics, your prize for all of those years of
sweat, toil, and hardship is to become one of the headliners for
the Ice Capades.
Personally, I would be pissed.