Even When We Fall

On January 29, 2025, an American Airlines plane and a United States Army helicopter collided above the Potomac River, adjacent to Reagan National Airport, killing all 67 passengers aboard the two aircraft. Twenty eight members of the U.S. skating community were among those who died.

Figure skater Maxim Naumov, 24, lost both his mother and father in that tragic crash. 

In the terrible days and weeks following their deaths, Maxim admitted, 

"I just wanted to rot, basically."

But he didn’t rot. 

Instead, he chose to channel his parents' spirits and persevered through his grief and pain to train and qualify to become one of the three U.S. men to compete in the men’s singles skating finals a week-and-a-half ago, at the Milan and Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy Winter Olympic Games. 

Maxim didn’t win a medal in the finals. He finished 20th in the field of 29 men from 21 countries who competed. His final routine wasn’t perfect. He fell twice and made a number of other bobbles that put him in the bottom half of the competition. But he was exuberant that he had the privilege to be there at all, and he won the hearts and affections of the spectators in the arena and those watching remotely. His story was a touching one, a triumphant one. A medal would have been very nice, absolutely. But just by being good enough to be selected for the Olympic team and competing before the eyes of the world after the devastation he experienced just a year ago, he believed he was a winner. So did the skating community and the audiences watching him, as well.

The heartfelt embrace of the arena crowds, who gave him a standing ovation at the end of his final routine, and the support of the tight-knit skating community showed him that he belonged there. That he was respected there. That he was loved there. His grit, his strength, his determination, and his spirit captured the hearts of those who knew his story, and knew how his Olympic dreams could have easily and understandably ended with the death of his parents.

But the love he had for his parents - who were also Olympic figure skaters, in the 1992 and 1994 Winter Olympic Games - propelled him to skate for them. Skating was their life and it was his. He carried a photo of his parents and him standing on the ice when he was just three years old. That appearance on the ice, he said, was the start of his skating career. He skated in the Olympics to make them proud. He skated and honored their memories. He skated with them as his strength and inspiration.  

Not only did Maxim’s Olympic appearance gain him the admiration and respect of the fans who followed his story, but his grace and graciousness in the face of horrific loss endeared him even more. He truly was a winner just for being there.

The number one male skater in the world - by far, according to skating experts - is Ilia Melinin, a teammate of Maxim’s. His confident manner, along with his abilities enable him to do jumps and spins that literally no one else has ever succeeded in doing. There were enormous expectations that he would win the gold medal in the individual men’s singles competition. He had already led the U.S. skaters to a gold medal in the figure skating team competition two weeks ago. 

But when, in his final skate, Ilia also fell twice and came up short on several of his record-breaking jumps, he not only lost the gold, but didn’t win a medal at all, finishing in an inconceivable (for him) eighth place. The look of utter devastation on his face as he finished skating, knowing that he would not win any medal, was hard to see. His parents were former skating Olympians, too. The world’s expectations on him were as high as they could be. It was too much, he admitted. The pressure overwhelmed and, in that gold medal moment, broke him.

Maxim Naumov consoled Ilia following Ilia’s loss, and told him that he was proud of him. He told him that despite this loss, he deserved to be in the position he was in in the skating community and belonged there. Maxim told him that this loss does not define who Ilia is. Former Olympic skaters and skating experts shared the same sentiments. The community embraced Ilia despite the expectations he didn’t achieve.  

In turn, Ilia Melinin embraced the young man - Mikhail Shaidorov, of Kazakhstan - who won the gold instead of him. While Ilia and Mikhail were competitors on the ice, they belonged to the same community of those who love the sport of skating. That love bonds them. Both know the pressures of elite skating and the hard work, relentless practices, and the financial and personal costs that it entails. Ilia told Mikhail that he deserved the gold, that it belonged to him, Ilia’s graciousness and generosity were strong, even in devastating defeat. 

There were 2,916 athletes expected to compete in the 2026 Winter Olympic Games. There are 2,916 stories, at the very least, of athletes defying expectations to get to the Olympics and defying expectations in not meeting them. There are stories of losses and injuries that will end sporting careers. Stories of triumphs and tragedies that surprise and disappoint. Stories of odds that are overcome and hopes and dreams dashed unmercifully. 

Yes, every athlete who competes would love to bring a medal home and be known forever as an Olympic champion. But only a small handful can be. 

But the medal count isn’t always the point. 

It’s the love of the game that is. It’s the character you develop in the years and years of training and practice. It’s the bonds you cement with the others who share that same love. 

It's something that gets you excited and compels you to do the relentlessly hard work of perfecting your game, of getting out of bed before dawn and entering into the cold. It’s the dream that compels you to strive for something bigger and better than yourself. 

It’s the innate human drive to belong to others who make you a better person and who love you even when you lose. And those who love you when you win because they didn’t.

Maxim Naumov didn’t give in when he felt as if he only wanted to rot after his parents died. Ilia Malinin didn’t rot either, when he disappointed himself and so many others who anointed him the world’s best, and he proved to not be invincible, but instead merely human.  

Both these young, talented athletes - and so many more, we can only imagine - persevere because there is a community to which they belong that reminds them that they are loved. Whether they win or whether they lose. Whether they bring home the gold or merely their memories of having competed. Whether they meet and exceed expectations or merely try their best. 

Their stories remind us of what it means to belong. To belong means we have a home no matter what. 

Even when we fall.