Milano Cortina Olympics: men's figure skating (10-02-2026)

 In the afternoon, I visit the Sweden Arena. It's not an exhibition, just a meeting point: there's a group of Swedes wearing the national hockey team jersey, but also a Canadian woman. I stop for a while to watch the women's luge, then head towards the Forum. When I get off the underground, I end up in the middle of a Coca-Cola group (recognisable because the guide has a bright sign) and, following them, I find myself in the queue for accredited visitors (who seem to be much more numerous here than on other occasions): I have to turn back.

From the brand new venue yesterday, I move to one I’ve been visiting for 36 years or so, and which brings back many memories of my youth. The first time I saw it, it gave me almost the same impression as Santa Giulia did yesterday; today, its age shows entirely (although here too there are escalators, which I hadn’t remembered). The refreshment points are old-fashioned, and the quality is definitely lower than yesterday: I’ll eat a calzone, horrible, and a focaccia, not bad.

For the first time in these Olympics, to reach my seat I need to go down rather than up: I hadn’t realised I was so close, even considering how much the ticket cost. I am definitely closer compared to the other two times I’ve watched figure skating: in Vancouver in 2010 and here again in 2018.

The audience is the most international I’ve ever seen: at the initial presentation, Asian flags stand out in particular: Japan (in the end, there will probably be more of them than Italians), China and South Korea, but also American and Ukrainian ones. Even a flag that cannot be brought into venues, that of the main country of “authorised neutral athletes”, will be seen on the cheeks of some spectators, a few rows in front of me. When their skaters take to the ice, you’ll also spot Mexicans, Canadians, Baltics  (next to me are first a couple of Estonians, then a group of Latvians), French peopleand especially Kazakhs. Among the countries of the top athletes, Georgia is the least represented, although a flag was seen in my block.

The first to take to the ice doesn’t impress me much, as I have no terms of comparison, but he’ll stay in the lead for a long time and finish 12th. The second seemed better to me, but he stays behind. Then there’s the Spaniard dressed as a Minion (at first, I thought as a plumber) who dances to Minions music and voices: very entertaining, but he makes many mistakes and stays behind, in the end he’ll be the first excluded from the final. The first group ends with the Mexican who seems to me in a different league compared to the previous ones, but he stays behind too: I hadn’t noticed a fall. He’ll make it to the final anyway. At first, I can’t find the “kiss & cry”, then from the cameras in front I understand it’s right in front of my section, so I can’t see it as it’s too far below my stand.

First break: I’m already hungry, so I decide to get something to eat. I spot a kiosk with no queue, but there’s a trick (which will deceive many): you have to pay somewhere else first, and there’s a queue there. I return anyway with a good margin before the event resumes. After the second group, I start to get up when I discover there’s no break: the warm-up for the third group begins immediately. In the third group, the Korean Cha impresses, taking the lead, to the excitement of his compatriots.

At the end of the third group, there is a break, and I take the opportunity to recharge my phone: there’s a station right in front of my block, where you can leave it, locking it with a code. Until now, I had always arrived at the limit of battery, also because power banks are not allowed. The fourth group starts with the Italian Rizzo, whom the announcer reminds us is from Sesto San Giovanni (where I am now): the excitement fades quickly because he falls at the first jump, but of course the crowd continues to support him and he finishes decently, ending up 16th. Third in the group is the other Italian, Grassl, whom the announcer reminds us achieved 7th place at the last Olympics, the best result by an Italian since 1952. Brilliant performance: I think he’ll be among the leaders, but not quite first—yet he is. Of course, all the best are still to come, but meanwhile, of the three remaining in the group, two make a mess (and one, the Japanese Miura, finishes truly distraught, seeming to be contemplating harakiri) and the third, the Frenchman Aymoz, puts in a good performance, but stays behind.

We reach the final group: I’m not sure whether to hope for a break or not, because on the one hand I’d like a pause, on the other I don’t want to finish so late. There’s no break, but I go out anyway: I find a toilet and kiosk without a queue and make it back in time as the first in the group, the Japanese Sato, is starting. He makes mistakes and finishes behind, while after him the Frenchman Siao Him Fa, with his nude look, delivers a great performance: I thought he’d take the lead, but not by so much—almost 9 points. Those in the final group seem to be superior, although they can always end up behind if they make mistakes: indeed, the Georgian Egadze makes quite a few mistakes and finishes 15th, while the Kazakh Shaidorov doesn’t make big errors, but stays behind Grassl. Then Malinin arrives, and he really is in a different league: he takes the lead by 5 points, I thought even more. The Japanese Kagiyama seems the only one on his level: he falls but manages to finish second. Grassl therefore fourth, beyond any expectation.

On the way out, there’s a bit of a crowd for the metro, but I catch the first one and it’s not even that packed. Tomorrow, an early start for Bormio: the Super G awaits me.