You know, you have to feel for post-Olympic athletes. Here are folks who have dedicated their lives to become the best they can be and, hopefully, the best in the world. They've trained several hours a day, 6 days a week, for years and years to achieve their goals. Of course, the use of performance-enhancing drugs sure do help: Ask any American or Eastern European athlete, along with our own sprinters, who we're quick to declare are originally from other countries if ever they're caught.
Regardless, once the competitions are over, what is left for these fine, upstanding folks to do? Sure, Sylvie Frechette got a lovely gig at the Cirque's O in Vegas, Caroline Waldo has (had?) a sportscaster gig in Ottawa, but what of the rest? I'm thinking particularly about figure skaters. These are folks who have spent countless dollars on coaches, choreographers and, most importantly, costume makers. Their success rests heavily on judges' benevolence. They have lost gallons, gallons! of tears over the years, waiting for their scores, smiling and waving to the cameras. They have to rent extra storage for all those plush toys that are thrown at them after their performance.
And, for what? What's left for them after the accolades? If they're lucky, they might get second or third billing on some tacky touring ice show, with stops at every manky backwater town from coast to coast. If they're not so lucky, they probably have to don some ridiculous Disney-inspired mascot costume and skate around, second-fiddle, to the stars of the show. So, it warms my heart, and other parts of my anatomy, to see that Jamie Salé has, um, expanded her horizons, exploring new possibilities.
You know, I still think she's a dog.
posted by Michel @ 11:30 AM
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