Yesterday I became so engrossed in fighting with the beyond that absolutely forgot about the existence of great Russian man’s distraction called “hockey”. Manic-depressive syndrome also sometimes affects umpires of this diocese, but, thank God, there’ve been no sure signs of that yet.

While I was mentally staggering around ski and biathlon stadiums, the experts of stick and puck had nearly finished team tournament. Meanwhile woman half had clewed this stupid pastime. By the way no one doubted that the representatives of Canada would become Olympic hockey champions. They’ve still got no worthy rivals to play this wonderful game seriously. The major question of the whole tournament concerned not the leader, but the number of pucks Canadians would allow themselves to miss. Here it seems to me, that bobsleigh principle of several countrymen-representatives could be implemented for a while. Then at final we would watch a cool hockey match Canada-1 against Canada-2. And more medals would be given.
Speaking about the men - the loss of Russia in the first match against Slovakians didn’t upset me much. Both teams played like Brazilians play football. In the team of latter those who didn’t manage to take place in forward line, play in defense. They wouldn’t have enabled any goalkeeper at all, if the goal weren’t so huge. And South-American motives ran all through our first game. Slovakians simply turned to be less exited. But the next day everything resumed its normal course. I have no idea about the way Krikunov and Michailov managed to bring our suffering with amnesia full-backs to their senses. But the results are to the fore. In the following three matches with Sweden, Kazakhstan and Latvia we missed only two pucks.

Those who took starting failure very much to their hearts and lamented over useless playing against Canadians and Czechs because of such a performance, very soon were splitting their sides with laughing, as the modest guys form Switzerland easily made both Canada and Czechia.

And primarily due to these cheese-makers we’ll have to play against one of the sweet-pair teams in the quarter-final (we awfully wanted to avoid this situation). And there is wedge everywhere you throw your glance. That’s why the 26-th of February (Sunday) will possibly turn out to be rather fruitful in everything concerning work.

Yesterday evening firstly passed in futile attempts to master the skill of distant thought-sending. There was enough time for reaching any acceptable results, as the dance pair figure-skating competitions are perhaps the longest ones; especially as the free dance, lasting for more than four minutes, was at hand. Recollecting the episode, when the Italian pair was being far-fetched to the pedestal, I felt a bit sorry for the female partner, as it turned out to be beyond Maurizio Margaglio’s strength to endure even two minutes at the previous dance. I kept on feeling that Barbara would have to finish alone. I strongly wanted to recommend Italians not to be too enthusiastic about different rumbas and foxtrots, but better complete 15 bobs and 28 pirouettes; otherwise the guy wouldn’t avoid autographing the emergency brigade.

And surely I felt great desire to send (even if distantly) my regards to the entire judge group; some linguistic sketches, devoted to family relations and long-distance hikes came to my mind. Perhaps I managed to succeed with something, but most likely I wasn’t the only one to have a brain-wave of putting the Italian pair on the right track, - thank God, they showed no super-high speeds. Moreover, nearly all the time they kept on stumping, nestling close to each other in a burst of fervor from time to time; though Barbara’s face expressed entirely different feelings. Now I really worry about Maurizio’s health.

But my labor wasn’t enough for judges. They evidently failed to hear all the charm and expressiveness of great and mighty Russian language. That’s why they kept on “talking rot”, when once again the best points were given either to those who should have left figure-skating long ago, or to those who shouldn’t have even tried it.

In any event, the inevitable occurred. Tatiana Navka and Roman Kostomarov managed to convince all those guys of their perfection, skating wonderfully, and brought absolutely deserved seventh gold medal to Russia. Thus they repeated our present-moment best achievement, when we win three of four possible gold medals in figure skating at the Olympiad. The only thing left is to wish good luck to Irina Slutskaya in single figure-skating, as she’ll have a hard time of it.

Generally, when the moment of truth came, it all went off rather curly. But speaking about the rest, yesterday made me think about the revaluation of cultural wealth again. You know, I’m a notorious empty-headed guy. I’ve nearly got used to the idea that Germans and Americans have made it a rule to make my life a misery. The second week has started since I began to be ashamed of my devotion to Munich “Bavaria” and Chicago “Bulls play. I’ve excluded German beer and "Bush legs" from my ration. I take only “Nevskoye classical” and “Moscow potato” chips. I see Berlin storm and Perl-Harbor in my dreams. I’ve delayed trips to New-York and Dresden for the uncertain term. In brief, I announce Italian divorce and all the toys fifty-fifty. But I’ve got used to all these things somehow.

At the same time I sincerely sympathized with Norwegians and intended to go to the wholesale market to buy some handkerchiefs for the humanitarian aid; I even decided to buy a dozen of nesting dolls with Putin’s image for them. I suffered because of the injustice in the medal-distributing committee at this Olympiad and in some childish-ingenuousness way was touched with good luck of Austrians.

Exactly these unworthy offspring of Gabsburgs and France-Josef turned out to harbor if not a sword, then at least a flail. Is it possible to believe anyone after that?!

Everything started with Benjamin Raich’s triumph in giant slalom. Then Michaela Dorfmeister outstripped Janica Kostelic in woman giant slalom. I wish I could earlier understand that these guys should be kicked out from the hill with the foul broom. I should have been practicing hypnosis at them, not at poor Maurizio. For the last bit Austrian team won team ski-jumping competitions, preventing Finns from taking at least one gold medal. I have had enough! Right up from this moment I support only Finns, - in hockey, football, golf and even rope lugging. Shame on the Austrian renegades! Let us not forget Suvorov’s lessons!

Finally I’d like to describe Tuesday situation:
Germany: gold - 7, silver - 7, bronze – 4.
Austria: gold – 7, silver – 5, bronze – 3.
The USA: gold - 7, silver – 5, bronze – 3.
Russia: gold - 7, silver - 2, bronze – 5.

Hasta la vista. Savar.

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Torino 2006