Writing the Pine

Photo: Jamie Squire/Getty Images

Kim Yu-Na’s coronation as Korea’s Queen was completed Thursday night as she stood atop the medal podium with the gold hanging around her neck.  Kim dazzled the world with a performance for the ages, one that will go down as possibly the greatest in Olympic figure skating history and one of the greatest in any Olympic sport.  With the weight of an entire nation squarely on her shoulders, Kim dismantled the competition with a record score of 228.56.  I wonder though, if she realizes just how much her victory means to the Korean people.

I read in an article that Korea “likes nothing better than to revel in triumph.”  And it’s true.  When Koreans have a chance at athletic glory, which isn’t very often, the world stops to us.  Schedules are adjusted and plans are canceled to watch one of our own have the opportunity to be on top of the world.  I’ve alluded to it before, but look at the 2002 World Cup and just how raucous the crowds were.  We go crazy over our short-track speedskaters and until recently, the sport wasn’t even that popular.  So for Kim Yu-Na to be the overwhelming favorite in the premier event of the Winter Olympics, her success did mean a lot to us.  We so badly wanted to feel that sense of national pride that other countries feel so often.  Korea has never had an athlete so dominant in such a recognizable sport that any feeling we got when reading or hearing about her was completely new and foreign.  It was impossible not to get excited about what she, a fellow Korean, could show the world.  We knew she was the best and wanted her to prove it.  Selfish as it may be, we wanted her to give us that joy.  And as we all found out on Thursday, she truly gave us something we’ve never felt before.

But for myself and my family, she gave us so much more.

I lost my grandmother on Wednesday.  Cancer had invaded her body in recent weeks and finally, it was time for her to go.  Thursday evening, my family and I said our goodbyes.  For me, the worst part of funerals is watching everybody else grieve, so it was especially hard on me to watch my mother and aunt in such somber states because, believe it or not, I had never seen them cry before.  It was a difficult day to get through to say the least and it didn’t help that we had to drive 20 miles through one of the worst snowstorms of the past few years.  Fortunately, we made it home safely.  As we settled back in at home, I realized that Kim Yu-Na did not perform yet and we’d be able to watch her.  Despite the tragedy that struck us the day before, we were not immune to the same excitement that overcame us in anticipation of the show Kim was about to put on.  As the first notes of George Gerswhin’s Concerto in F sounded, my father, mother, brother, and I watched the next four minutes in complete silence as Kim’s skating left us speechless.  After her record-breaking score was announced it was clear she would win the gold but we still watched, as a family, the rest of the skaters take the ice.  We were waiting for the medal ceremony, the culmination of Kim Yu-Na’s triumph over the skating world.  And when it finally came, with the national anthem of South Korea playing in the arena, as Kim, along with the rest of us, was watching the Korean flag being raised to the rafters, I looked to my mother and father.  They were mouthing the words to the anthem as it went along, sniffling with joy, knowing they witnessed something that will forever be remembered in Korean history.

As magical as Kim Yu-Na’s performance was, I know of course, that it won’t bring my grandmother back.  What it did, however, was allow my family to temporarily escape the sorrow her death brought upon us.  For a few minutes at least, it let us be happy when we should’ve been sad.  So I would like to say thank you to Kim Yu-Na, for doing so much more than just winning the gold.