Oval Corporate Events: An Antidote to "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere"
Here at the Utah Olympic Oval, companies or various other groups can rent out the facility to host parties. Usually, the group comes in the evening for a nice dinner, followed by all kinds of fun activities, such as hockey, curling, and skating. Sometimes, a few of us speedskaters are invited to give a demonstration of our sport.
A few months ago, I was asked to participate in an event put on for Workforce Services on October 25th. I love to do these kinds of events because it's so much fun to demonstrate speedskating to people who have never seen the sport. The best part is getting to meet the people and to answer their questions.
Even though the Workforce Services party was to take place a couple of nights after my return from the Fall World Cup Trials, I decided to do it. We don't always get paid for our participation, but this time, the orgainzers were going to make sure that the three of us (me, National Team member Clay Mull, and bobsled/skeleton/speedskater Jeremy White) would be well-compensated for our time.
Upon my return from the Milwaukee trials, as anyone who has followed my blog knows, I was feeling a bit down about the speedskating environment. How can I explain this in terms that are easily understood? Well, if you've seen my friend Andrew Love's post on the 3-letter acronyms that could be used to describe various aspects of the sport, especially when it comes to excuses for poor performance, then you'll get this. I've come up with my number-one favorite acronym for my speedskating experience: I must have been suffering from TMA, or "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere."
After skating my afternoon workout on the 25th, I wondered about my attitude as I prepared for a night of playing the Olympic hopeful. Would I be able to pull it off, or would my cynicism show through?
As it turned out, there was nothing to worry about. In fact, skating for the Workforce Services party was the best thing that could have happened to me at that time. The people were absolutely wonderful. They had never experienced speedskating up close before, and had never had the chance to actually meet athletes who had a chance to make the Olympics. The one thing I kept hearing over and over again was, "I never knew this was so cool!"
The first thing that Clay, Jeremy, and I did for the group after they arrived was to give a speedskating demonstration. We went out on the ice all decked out in our racing gear and showed them drafting and lane changing, followed by a couple of exhibition races. Jeremy and Clay skated a 500 together, and I did 1000 meters on my own.
Following the skating demonstration, we handed out bobble-head speedskater pins to each person in attendance. Getting to meet all of these people, who had come from all over the country to attend this event, was an amazing experience. They wanted their pictures taken with us. They wanted to shake our hands and wish us the best of luck. They were so excited to be able to make a connection with Olympic hopefuls.
They even asked us if we had anything they could buy in order to help support us in our training. Jeremy was the only one who came prepared for this -- he had had T-shirts made up with his picture on them, saying, "Prepare for the next ice age!"
When our new fans found out that Clay and I had nothing to sell, many of them simply opened their wallets and started to make donations to us. At first I did not know whether I should accept their donations, because I was not used to being treated in this way, but then I realized that it would be insulting not to accept their help. Their generosity was totally unexpected; it almost brought tears to my eyes. By the time we had met all of the people at the party, Clay and I had literally stuffed a wad of bills into our skinsuits.
At last it was time for dinner. We got into the buffet line, loaded up our plates, and each of us was immediately invited to sit at a different table. It was weird to eat dinner wearing a swiftsuit and warmup jacket, but nobody paid attention to that. Our new fans had so many questions for us. They wanted to know whether we had a special diet, how many hours a day we trained, what types of workouts we did, and how we supported ourselves financially. I love the appalled looks I got when I told people that World Cup skaters are expected to survive on stipends of $150 a month. A lot of people were surprised by my education, and by the fact that I had worked in science while competing on the World Cup circuit.
That night, I learned a lot about myself and about the people I'd like to represent as an American Olympic hopeful. I learned that, despite all of the negative experiences I've had in this sport, I'm not cynical towards either the sport itself or towards our would-be fans. Nothing about that night was fake; neither the support of the people, nor my love for the sport, nor my interactions with the fans.
Participating in that corporate event was so much more than just an opportunity for me to make a good amount of money in a couple of hours. It was an antidote to the "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere" that I had felt in Milwaukee at the trials. For those two short hours, I felt like I had started with a clean slate in the sport of speedskating. These people weren't looking at me like a troublemaker whose name had been dragged through the mud for the purpose of someone else's agenda. No, they saw me as the kind of person whom they expect to see in this sport: A nice, wholesome, hard-working Midwestern girl. And why did I feel so much at ease in this role? BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE I STARTED. This is what I always expected to be. This is what I was before I experienced the ugliness of sports politics.
It also became apparent to me that US Speedskating is dropping the ball when it comes to making a connection with the public. If these people were so excited to meet me, and I'm just a lowly World Cup competitor as of today, imagine how much they'd love to meet skaters who have actually won Olympic medals. If these people were so willing to come up and open up their wallets to give me a donation, then there are financial resources out there that are not being tapped by USS, for whatever reason.
But what I'd really like to do in this post is to thank Vince Iturbe and everyone involved in setting up the Workforce Services event at the Utah Olympic Oval. Thanks also to Jeremy White for inviting me to participate. Thanks to all of the people who showed us so much support that night. Sometimes I need to be reminded that some people believe I have value, as an American and as a speedskater.
Here at the Utah Olympic Oval, companies or various other groups can rent out the facility to host parties. Usually, the group comes in the evening for a nice dinner, followed by all kinds of fun activities, such as hockey, curling, and skating. Sometimes, a few of us speedskaters are invited to give a demonstration of our sport.
A few months ago, I was asked to participate in an event put on for Workforce Services on October 25th. I love to do these kinds of events because it's so much fun to demonstrate speedskating to people who have never seen the sport. The best part is getting to meet the people and to answer their questions.
Even though the Workforce Services party was to take place a couple of nights after my return from the Fall World Cup Trials, I decided to do it. We don't always get paid for our participation, but this time, the orgainzers were going to make sure that the three of us (me, National Team member Clay Mull, and bobsled/skeleton/speedskater Jeremy White) would be well-compensated for our time.
Upon my return from the Milwaukee trials, as anyone who has followed my blog knows, I was feeling a bit down about the speedskating environment. How can I explain this in terms that are easily understood? Well, if you've seen my friend Andrew Love's post on the 3-letter acronyms that could be used to describe various aspects of the sport, especially when it comes to excuses for poor performance, then you'll get this. I've come up with my number-one favorite acronym for my speedskating experience: I must have been suffering from TMA, or "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere."
After skating my afternoon workout on the 25th, I wondered about my attitude as I prepared for a night of playing the Olympic hopeful. Would I be able to pull it off, or would my cynicism show through?
As it turned out, there was nothing to worry about. In fact, skating for the Workforce Services party was the best thing that could have happened to me at that time. The people were absolutely wonderful. They had never experienced speedskating up close before, and had never had the chance to actually meet athletes who had a chance to make the Olympics. The one thing I kept hearing over and over again was, "I never knew this was so cool!"
The first thing that Clay, Jeremy, and I did for the group after they arrived was to give a speedskating demonstration. We went out on the ice all decked out in our racing gear and showed them drafting and lane changing, followed by a couple of exhibition races. Jeremy and Clay skated a 500 together, and I did 1000 meters on my own.
Following the skating demonstration, we handed out bobble-head speedskater pins to each person in attendance. Getting to meet all of these people, who had come from all over the country to attend this event, was an amazing experience. They wanted their pictures taken with us. They wanted to shake our hands and wish us the best of luck. They were so excited to be able to make a connection with Olympic hopefuls.
They even asked us if we had anything they could buy in order to help support us in our training. Jeremy was the only one who came prepared for this -- he had had T-shirts made up with his picture on them, saying, "Prepare for the next ice age!"
When our new fans found out that Clay and I had nothing to sell, many of them simply opened their wallets and started to make donations to us. At first I did not know whether I should accept their donations, because I was not used to being treated in this way, but then I realized that it would be insulting not to accept their help. Their generosity was totally unexpected; it almost brought tears to my eyes. By the time we had met all of the people at the party, Clay and I had literally stuffed a wad of bills into our skinsuits.
At last it was time for dinner. We got into the buffet line, loaded up our plates, and each of us was immediately invited to sit at a different table. It was weird to eat dinner wearing a swiftsuit and warmup jacket, but nobody paid attention to that. Our new fans had so many questions for us. They wanted to know whether we had a special diet, how many hours a day we trained, what types of workouts we did, and how we supported ourselves financially. I love the appalled looks I got when I told people that World Cup skaters are expected to survive on stipends of $150 a month. A lot of people were surprised by my education, and by the fact that I had worked in science while competing on the World Cup circuit.
That night, I learned a lot about myself and about the people I'd like to represent as an American Olympic hopeful. I learned that, despite all of the negative experiences I've had in this sport, I'm not cynical towards either the sport itself or towards our would-be fans. Nothing about that night was fake; neither the support of the people, nor my love for the sport, nor my interactions with the fans.
Participating in that corporate event was so much more than just an opportunity for me to make a good amount of money in a couple of hours. It was an antidote to the "Toxic Mafia Atmosphere" that I had felt in Milwaukee at the trials. For those two short hours, I felt like I had started with a clean slate in the sport of speedskating. These people weren't looking at me like a troublemaker whose name had been dragged through the mud for the purpose of someone else's agenda. No, they saw me as the kind of person whom they expect to see in this sport: A nice, wholesome, hard-working Midwestern girl. And why did I feel so much at ease in this role? BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE I STARTED. This is what I always expected to be. This is what I was before I experienced the ugliness of sports politics.
It also became apparent to me that US Speedskating is dropping the ball when it comes to making a connection with the public. If these people were so excited to meet me, and I'm just a lowly World Cup competitor as of today, imagine how much they'd love to meet skaters who have actually won Olympic medals. If these people were so willing to come up and open up their wallets to give me a donation, then there are financial resources out there that are not being tapped by USS, for whatever reason.
But what I'd really like to do in this post is to thank Vince Iturbe and everyone involved in setting up the Workforce Services event at the Utah Olympic Oval. Thanks also to Jeremy White for inviting me to participate. Thanks to all of the people who showed us so much support that night. Sometimes I need to be reminded that some people believe I have value, as an American and as a speedskater.
posted by Eva at 9:13 AM
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