[Book] Chapter 1 - Part II
Author: Oda Nobunari
Title: フィギュアほど泣けるスポーツはない！(Figure hodo nakeru sports wa nai! — No sport makes you cry as much as figure skating!)
Support & purchase a copy!: Kadokawa, Amazon Japan, Kinokuniya USA
Chapter 1: I Really Hated Figure Skating
Part II: ”To put it shortly, a clumsy, lackluster early childhood.“
(Previous posts: Chapter 1; Part I)
Being born into that kind of family, I was enrolled into a kindergarten that stressed athletics. I have a strong inclination to say that was my starting point as an athlete; however, the ironic is that back then, and even now, I am a klutz when it comes to athletics. There’s no grace to my movements—when I was bullied, I cried instead of fighting back. I was so small that I was always late no matter how hard I ran… I ran and I ran, but I couldn’t catch up to anyone. While the other kids played so freely on the playground, time ran out just right when it go to my turn to play. I was born prematurely so as a kid, the difference in physical abilities seemed so vast. Anyway, it was at that time that this realization was planted inside my head: my clumsiness eclipsed them all. I’m terrible at athletics; I can’t beat anyone.
When I went home, my clumsy self was also a target for my older brother and sister. To note, my brother and I are complete opposites. He was athletic and smart. Talented in such a way that once he did something, he picked it up right away. He studied without parents telling him—and when report cards came out, he rarely got yelled at by our parents. My older sister was also athletic and excellent at school even though she wasn’t the kind of person to try. Though scolded by parents to take things seriously, compared to me who listened to our parents to focus and still fail, I was completely different from my brother and sister. That feeling like I would never be able to beat them, that complex, was hellaciously etched into me as a child.
Back then, my brother and sister messed with me pretty much every day. We would have competitions when we were at the skating rink. I’m slow regardless, but my brother would use skates for speed skating blades while I use skates for figure skating. Of course, I was thoroughly defeated again and again—further deepening that complex I have with them. When I got up from the ice, they kept coming at me. I ran away and ran away—but my clumsy self always got caught. When you’re a kid, that four year age difference I had with my brother seemed insurmountable. I considered getting revenge, but unfortunately, I was more like our mother—delicate, whereas my brother and sister were more like our father—firm, stubborn. Zero chance of winning. Running away or hiding—I always got caught so the only method left was crying to my mother.
On the other hand, when I think about it, I think, as children, my brother and sister were envious of me. As my coach, I monopolized our mother’s time and attention. How could they not be jealous—she was always with me during practice, competitions, traveling. I believe they wanted time together with our mother as well. This grudge probably held on until I was in seniors. Even when I won competitions, my brother and sister never congratulated me.
With such a family dynamic, a kid like me could tell my mother’s burden was not ordinary. Was she concerned about brother, sister, and father? Can she really switch between being a coach and being our mother? I asked her, “Should we stop talking about skating when we’re at home?” And so, mother and I kept the skating at the rink and didn’t bring it home with us when we’re with family.
Many readers may come to the conclusion that because of my mother’s selflessness, I was able to overcome many challenges. Um, that is not the case. That is something I will refute with every fiber of my being. That is because, the person I feared the most when I was a kid was my own mother.
When I was on the rink, my mother’s guidance was strict beyond comprehension. As a kindergartener, I realized I had nowhere to escape. At home, my brother and sister made me cry. At the skating rink, my mother’s training made me cry. At kindergarten, I was a klutz so I cried. As a dispirited kid, thoughts questioning life and the desire to disappear came to mind.
