One can see a man sitting at a bar, sipping slowly on his drink. A girl’s gaze catches his as he looks up. It’s as if they exchanged secret glances. Right now is it.
It’s been used in countless movies and TV shows. It is also the tale of the renaissance of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir. Given the filmic quality to their relationship, and the hopeless romanticism of the plot, it is a natural fit.
During an Olympic video, Moir recalls, “we were on a charity trip to Scotland” in 2015. I turned to Tessa. We have developed something of a shared language. The thought crossed my mind, “We’re going to do one more Olympics, aren’t we?” Oh yeah, she replied. My mind settled on, “Okay, here we go,” and I turned to the bartender to order three more drinks.
Famous Canadian Ice Dancers Were Taking a Break
The famous Canadian ice dancers were taking a break during this time. They had taken a break from competition, disheartened and frustrated with skating, and were considering their options.
Prior to the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, the scene has changed significantly after a time of extraordinary success between 2010 and 2012.
A dispute with coach Marina Zoueva and reports in the press that the ice-dance result had been arranged by American and Russian judges cast a pall over the entire experience, which ended in a very disappointing second medal.
Virtue and Moir’s final performance was intended to be a triumphant sendoff, but instead they went into their imagined retirement seething with rage and bitterness. A major downer for Moir was how everything turned out.
The sport had “made me sour,” he admits. Nothing about it appealed to me. I went through a stretch where I barely slept and spent most of my time doing everything than figure skating. My brother and I went and put up a house. I turned my back on the world and halted all activity.
Still, the time apart was much required, despite the accompanying feelings of sadness and loss. Virtue emphasises the importance of “gaining the perspective to examine and reassess.”
After debating the merits of a comeback, they decided to hire Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon, two former Canadian ice dancers, as their trainers and moved to Montreal to get the process underway. When they initially met, Lauzon insisted that they share what had brought them back. In his words, it was a must-have condition.
“That completely shocked us,” adds Moir. We couldn’t have avoided that by just declaring, “We want to win.” Well, that might not be enough, he merely remarked. If you want to enrol in our school, you’ll need more than that. To put it simply, we believed we had more to offer.
Rethink the Sport and Push its Limits
Their new environment and coaching staff gave them the opportunity to rethink the sport and push its limits.
The group “wasn’t conforming to any one thing,” as Virtue puts it. As a group, we stopped caring about pleasing other people. We had greater confidence in ourselves, both as persons and as sportsmen.
We felt stronger in our convictions, our values, and the art we set out to do. As much as I have always enjoyed skating, I have found that it can be a source of discouragement and hardening. This zeal can be lost. The spark was rekindled in Montreal.
For the first time in over two and a half years, they competed at the Skate Canada Autumn Classic in September 2016 in the Pierrefonds neighbourhood of Montreal. This little dance was an electrifying, sensual ode to Prince.
Their spontaneous dancing, with its mix of sensitivity and a modern edge, added to the package, making it all the more captivating.