Day of intense pride
Lifetime of work realized as local ice dancer becomes an Olympian
Everything changed on Sept. 30, 1981. The moment the word “Calgary” fell from the lips of IOC President Juan Antonio Samaranch, my sister, Karyn, and I joined tens of thousands of other Calgarians on the exhilarating journey to the greatest spectacle this city has every seen. Fast forward to Feb. 13, 1988. It was a day of preparation, pride and intense anticipation — putting on the Team Canada gear, assembling in the village and massing with the other teams for the Olympic opening ceremonies.
Just before we entered McMahon Stadium, the people on the west side caught sight of Brian Orser carrying the flag. The roar of the crowd swept across the field and into the passageway and hit us with a physical force that I felt more than I heard. The sensation was transformative. It was at that very moment that I felt that I became an Olympian. It still gives me goose bumps.
Then I was in the stadium, waving, laughing, crying, and in awe of the spectacle that we were part of. It struck me that after training and competing for 15 years and continually striving for the next level, we had arrived at the pinnacle of sport. We were at the Olympics. There was no higher level. It was immensely satisfying and a bit terrifying at the same time.
I found myself comforted by the familiarity of the competition itself. Inside the rink, it was a skating competition with the same judges and competitors that we were used to seeing at other international competitions.
But it was also unlike any competition I had ever experienced. Skating the compulsory dances (usually attended only by judges, parents and diehard fans) in front of a capacity crowd in the Corral who cheered and clapped in time to the music was surreal! For the free dance in the Saddle- dome, I felt the support of the audience like never before and saw many familiar faces in the crowd during the warm-up.
Although this was very comforting, I experienced a flash of inner crisis just before we took to the ice to compete. I realized with alarming clarity that it had taken us 15 years to get here, and the next four minutes would determine what I would say for the rest of my life when anyone asked, “So, how did you do at the Olympics?” 15 years ... four minutes ... rest of my life. The pressure was crushing. Fortunately, my sport psychology training kicked in and I got my head back into the right space. Karyn and I were well prepared and strongly connected. “Just like in practice,” we said to each other. Happily, I’ve been able to say we skated the best we could, which was our goal going in.
It was really outside of the competition venues that I felt the real joy of the Olympics. I loved walking down Stephen Avenue in my red and white fringe jacket and getting high fives from perfect strangers. I loved hanging out in the Village with teammates and athletes from around the world. Sharing a lunch table with Prince Albert of Monaco (bobsled athlete), I realized the power of sport to unite people of disparate backgrounds.
When it was over, it felt like an entire lifetime of experiences had been compressed into that incredible 16 days. In the 25 years since, the Olympics have remained a defining part of who I am. This skinny little kid from Carstairs had taken his sister’s hand and together they had become Olympians. That has forever altered my concept of what we, all of us, are capable of. When we strive audaciously, we can reach amazing heights.
Well done Calgary!