AAP Voices Blog

We didn’t have a television for a time when I was a kid. When we eventually got one, we eagerly watched the 1980 Lake Placid Winter Olympics. Watching the USSR’s pairs skater Irina Rodnina, who’d overcome tuberculosis and numerous bouts of pneumonia as a child, inspired not only me but a generation of skaters.

Soon my parents enrolled me in ice skating classes. Like many young girls, I wanted to be a ballerina flying across the ice. Then I fell backward. Hard. Ice is unforgiving. I lay there stunned until someone helped me up. I cried, not because my head hurt — which it did — but because my pride was badly bruised.

I left the rink and refused to go out until one of the other skater’s moms coaxed me out again by using, of all things, my love of reading. She soon had me back on the ice, holding my hand as we slowly skated across the rink, discussing the Chronicles of Narnia — how did those kids get to another world through that armoire? Soon I enjoyed skating and even spinning.

Fast forward 40 years, and skating still inspires me. Nathan Chen’s skate for Olympic gold was breathtaking. I sent the YouTube video of his winning performance to my reader newsletter list, asking them what inspires them.

Then the women skated under the stress and scandal following Russian Olympic Committee member Kamila Valieva’s positive drug test from Christmas Day. The 15-year-old favorite, who’d already helped her team win gold shortly before her drug test results were known, is said by many to be the best women’s singles skater of all time with her combination of technical skills and grace — art on ice personified.

The Court of Arbitration for Sport ruled to allow Kamila to skate despite the detected presence of a banned heart medication in her system, and later criticized the delay in the test results from the lab in Sweden. The court’s lawyers also said that because Kamila is a minor, she might face only a reprimand, rather than a suspension, if she were later to be found guilty of a violation.

In figure skating, the best skaters skate last. Standing on the ice, alone, for her free skate, Kamila’s chin trembled. She began her program, then fell and stumbled. Multiple times. She got up. She kept going. But she was falling apart. After what should have been the skate of her life, she cried and crumpled. Instead of comforting her for performing amid enormous pressure, her coach made chilling remarks to her as she left the ice.

A teenage teammate, Anna Shcherbakova, who won the gold, stood after her scores were revealed, holding a plushie, a flat look on her face. She later told reporters she felt emptiness.

Even Japan’s speedy and strong Kaori Sakamoto, 20, who won the bronze, curled into a fetal position, crying. Reporters said these were tears of joy, but to me those came later. When she saw Kamila, it seemed to me that Kaori was devastated for the younger skater.

And Russia’s Alexandra Trusova, who won the silver, was very upset that her impressive routine didn’t bring gold and insisted that she would never skate again. She is 17.

Heartbroken, Kamila walked down the hall and did not speak to reporters. In no way was this child protected.

Why must we place so much pressure on children?

“Watching these Olympics likely won’t inspire the next generation of skaters. Will it change how children are treated in sports? I hope so.”

“Winning isn’t everything,” I said to my family, an understatement, to be sure. Watching these Olympics likely won’t inspire the next generation of skaters. Will it change how children are treated in sports? I hope so.

To be clear, drugs have no business in sports. Athletes, especially young ones, should compete cleanly and understand that performance-enhancing substances hurt everyone. But Kamila is a minor. The adults around her failed her.

For pediatricians, our mission is clear: “…to champion optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents, and young adults and to advocate for and support its members in these endeavors.” Our purpose is to show up for those who need our protection. Now more than ever, there are bills in our state and federal legislatures that affect the health and well-being of children that demand our attention and testimony.

We also support our mission every day in each interaction with our patients, their families, our own family, and our friends.

Advocating can be scary and painful. We may fall down, but we will get up and do it again. For the children. For our future. For kids like Kamila.

Kamila, and all children, need adults to step up for them.