Figure Skating | Kids who rule the world

SPOKANE -- There really ought to be a law.

You take a young girl, say 12 or 13, dress her in a costume straight out of the Country Western Hall of Fame, strap some blades on those tiny feet and shove her out on a sheet of ice in front of a world that expects -- let's be honest -- perfection.

It's what happens every year at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships. And the amazing thing is that a few of these kids, such as new champ Kimmie Meissner, not only avoid imploding in this pressure vacuum, but actually thrive.

Meissner, who skated a program Saturday with five triple-jumps just good enough to hold off a charge from rivals Emily Hughes and Alissa Czisny, is 17 now. The reigning world and national champion is maturing day by day into her new role as America's impromptu ice princess.

Watching Meissner's grace in motion live, on the ice, it's easy to be fooled into believing she and her cohorts are not only as poised as the vacationing Sasha Cohen and Michelle Kwan -- or just like any other battle-scarred athlete you see on "SportsCenter."

Not even close.

Look behind the curtain, where the sequins are covered by sweatshirts, the skates swapped for Uggs, the hairpins give way to scrunchies, and you see big-time competitive skating's "Real World."

Take a peek into the draw meeting for the women's free skate: Scattered about on folding chairs in the bowels of Spokane Arena is U.S. figure skating's next generation. Gum is popping. Cellphones are chirping, text messages flying. Giggles float skyward, ponytails flop about.

They're having a blast. But it looks more like a scene from the food court at Alderwood Mall than the nerve center at a national-championship sports event.

That's no knock on the kids themselves, most of whom are just flat-out amazing.

It's just that you forget how painfully young they are.

They're kids. When you tune in to see Meissner, Hughes and Czisny -- or the next generation, Mirai Nagasu, Caroline Zhang or Ashley Wagner -- sparkle under the lights, it's so easy to forget about all the rest: Pop quizzes. First dates. Parental issues. Homework. Acne. Self-doubt.

Remember?

Remember yourself as a 17-year-old and imagine throwing in, as Meissner must, the upcoming defense of your world skating crown.

Next week, after her "Today Show" appearance and the taping of her new Subway commercial, Meissner will go back to Fallston High School in suburban Baltimore. There, she's pretty sure a public-address system announcement will mention her name -- because she does the announcements.

"Kimmie Meissner is back in the building today after winning nationals," she predicts it will go. "So make sure if you see her, tell her congratulations ... by the way, this is Kimmie."

Kimmie, not Kimberley. She's the best in the world at what she does, but still can't fathom going by the "Kimberley" on her birth certificate.

Someone in the arena Saturday didn't get that message.

"They kept calling me Kimberley!" she said. "I'm thinking: What did I do? I'm always in trouble when anyone calls me Kimberley."

She's really just a kid, but she's already the grand dame. As Meissner patiently answered questions at a news conference, members of skating's Generation Next -- a small pack of the "junior ladies" champs, age 13 or so -- were tearing around the halls, giggling, skidding, laughing and autograph-hunting.

None looked big enough to talk her way out of a booster seat at Red Robin.

Each of them is landing triple-triple combinations in world competition.

Elsewhere backstage, coaches and parents are both consoling and praising Colorado Springs skater Rachel Flatt, who finished eighth. The program lists Rachel at 4 feet 9, which seems generous. Her free-skate program contained seven triple jumps -- only one of which she missed. She's a promising senior ladies skater. She is 14 years old.

In skating, it has always been thus. No other sport, save perhaps gymnastics, pushes kids this young before lights this bright, saddles them with pressure this great, in an event where every tiny flaw is magnified 10,000 times and beamed all over the globe.

Watch them behind the scenes, where the pasted-on grins go back in the gym bags, the tears flow freely, and the hugs from dad aren't just for show, but for survival. Watch them giggle and cry and cringe, and you never go away wondering why one of them couldn't just bear down and stick that triple Lutz.

You go away wishing the world would cut them a little slack.

Ron Judd: 206-464-8280 or at rjudd@seattletimes.com