Weeks after the tragedy, the club is weathering waves of anguish all the while doing what has made it a standard-bearer for figure skating in America for more than a century. There is palpable grief, to be sure, but also the ever present grind of athletes striving for greatness. “We keep them in our hearts while we do it, and it feels like we’re still skating together,” said LoPinto’s son, 16-year-old Zachary, who is the top-ranked male figure skater in New England, and fourth nationally, for his age group. Han was returning from Wichita, Kan., where her 13-year-old daughter, Jinna, who was also killed in the crash, had attended a development camp following the US Figure Skating Championships. Han and her daughter never made it back to New England. Neither did youth skater Spencer Lane, his mother Christine Lane, and Evegenia Shishkova and Vadim Naumov, both former elite figure skaters who coached at the club. The LoPintos often traveled with the Hans, and Donna LoPinto considered the possibility of members of her family being on that flight “a little” haunting. The two families became tight because they were at this Norwood rink six days a week for their children. Indeed, the club’s three-rink facility, on a slice of land wedged between Interstate 95 and Route 1, anchored much of the existences of the six victims. Take Han for instance. LoPinto, who considers the Hans to be family rather than friends, said of Jin, “Pretty much the rink was her life.” Zachary and Jinna shared aspirations of becoming truly elite in their sport. For the LoPintos, that meant moving from Long Island to Canton to give Zachary the best chance at success. He has trained at the Skating Club of Boston for the last four years. LoPinto’s husband still lives part time in New York, where he owns an insurance agency. Zachary’s commitment to the sport means he attends school online. Jinna, whom Zachary considered to be a little sister, had a similar academic arrangement. Zachary’s six-day-a-week training regimen is vigorous. Many days he has three 80-minute sessions on the ice, in addition to off-ice jumping, the weight room, and physical therapy. Consistency, he said, is chief among his challenges. Some days, he feels fantastic about his jumps; others, he feels as though nothing is working. And the higher the jumps, the more inconsistent the results, he said. This is his life. “I feel free on the ice,” he said. Out on the ice during a recent weekday afternoon, a handful of skaters worked on their craft. This specific rink, named after Tenley E. Albright, a Newton native who became the first American female skater to win an Olympic gold medal, in 1956, has a capacity for 2,500 spectators and is designated for the highest performing skaters. To the uninitiated, it all looks effortless at first as the skaters glide in elegant arcs, punctuated by spins or jumps. Then occasionally someone lands awkwardly and ends up on their backside. And the truth becomes real: This can be taxing work. Locally, figure skating is a tight-knit community. The Norwood club has about 1,200 members, about 60 percent of whom are “active skaters,” a spokesperson said. It’s one of only three facilities in the nation owned and operated by a figure skating club. The facility opened in 2020, following decades at a rink on Soldiers Field Road. Covering one wall on the side of the rink is a massive timeline chronicling the club’s rich history. Its narrative is intertwined with the development of figure skating in the US. The club was founded in 1912. By 1963, it had produced eight female figure skating national champions. The display also covers past heartbreak. A 1961 plane crash in Belgium killed the entire US skating team, including 10 members of the Boston club, who were on their way to the world championships. The last photo in the timeline shows the smiling Shishkova and Naumov, the two coaches who died in the D.C. plane crash. They are flanking their son, Maxim Naumov, who was competing at the US Championships in Kansas but traveled home Sunday before his parents. Originally from Russia, Shishkova and Naumov won the pairs title at the 1994 world championships and competed twice in the Olympics. They were also “good people,” Stump said. She recalled she wanted to ask Shishkova about where she got her hair done because “her hair always looked so good.” But coaches at the club are perpetually busy, and she missed her chance. Stump texted Naumov while he was in Wichita, saying she hoped his son, Maxim, would skate well at the US Championships, and included a prayer hands emoji. After Maxim finished fourth, Naumov messaged her: ”God heard your prayers, Becky.” “Now, I’m reading it and I’m like ‘Oh God,’” she said. Maxim has not trained since the crash that took his parents’ lives, Stump said, but he has taught some lessons at the club. Elite figure skaters, she said, can be adept at compartmentalization. “Skaters learn to be in the moment when you have to be in the moment and when you’re not that’s when you have your space to cry, but it’s been really tough,” she said, especially since many are still in their competitive season. She pointed out Jinna Han’s coach out on the ice. She is coaching a pairs team that is bound for the World Championships next month at Boston’s TD Garden. And while the sport often forces its athletes to learn how to deal with deep disappointment, there is still pervasive anxiety attached to the recent catastrophe. Stump mentioned a trip that some of the club’s members will take to Colorado Springs for an upcoming competition. “They’re all scared,” she said, referencing the impending plane ride. “Parents, skaters, everybody.” In a hallway near the rink is an informal tribute to Spencer Lane and Jinna Han. The memorial, located where the two used to lace up their skates before stepping out onto the ice, includes teddy bears, flowers, cards, a hand drawing, candy, and framed photos of each skater. The club expects to have a handful of its members in the mix to qualify for the next Winter Olympics. The organization also thinks multiple Olympic cycles ahead. One pre-teen on the ice, the club spokesperson said, is a prospect for the 2034 Winter Olympics in Milan. Zachary LoPinto’s long-term goal is to qualify for the Olympics at least once, maybe twice. More immediately, there is the pain of loss. Han’s husband, Joon, still comes to the rink for a hug, a coffee, or a chat. He pushes Zachary, who considers him an uncle, to excel, said Donna LoPinto. “Some days,” she said, “are harder than others.”
CONTINUE READING
