November 22, 1995
From a Russian newspaper:
A DUO
by Elena Bajtsekhovskaya
translated by Olya Smolyanova
Katia was the only person who heard Sergei's last words "I feel very bad..." after she followed him down to the ice from an unfinished lift..
Gordeeva and Grinkov were getting ready for the traditional opening of the Starts on Ice tour in Lake Placid. They left SOI two years ago to reinstate as amateurs before the 1994 Olympics, and came back to it after winning the gold medal.
I remember scheduling an interview with them less than a year before the Games, during one of their short stay in Moscow. However, it was Sergei who came to the meeting - Katia chose to stay home with their little daughter Dasha. All my questions about reinstatement and the upcoming competitions Grinkov kept turning to his favorite subject: his wife. Even to my remark "You've been living in the States for so long - why didn't you learn how to speak English?" he responded with a smile, "Why? My Katyusha speaks beautiful English and I never go anywhere without her. I'll have time to learn it later."
Sergei and Katia were everything to each other. They shared their small, isolated island of absolute happiness. Problems, worries, challenges - all of that was inside. On the outside, they seemed spoiled by fortune - success, fame, a darling daughter, home - full life, love... Who knew what high price would have to be paid for it?
There is no other happiness for a journalist than the happiness of seeing and writing about a friend's success. And there is no bitterness more bitter than sensing a friend's failure and not being able to look away. These were the words of a famous correspondent Stanislav Tokarev. What can you say now? How can you write about something that your mind refuses to accept? There is no Sergei. And there will never be the same Katia, who spent 20 out of her 24 years next to him. Because you can't grow into a person with your whole being, and not die when he dies.
The cynicism of journalists work is most clear when he goes through his archives selecting pictures for a post mortem. Pictures that are so alive. Here is the first Olympics in Calgary, here is the second one in Lillehammer. Gordeeva and Grinkov aren't champions yet. Sergei made several mistakes in the short program ("At some point I realized that I couldn't feel my legs under me because of stress. I simply grabbed Katjusha, trying to stay on my feet...") Only a day later they, again, were better than others - they simply couldn't let each other down. Here is another picture - Sergei and Katia on the steps of CSKA, wind blowing... A picture of blinding happiness.
Then, after the interview, Sergei was in such a hurry to get back home, he left a video tape in my office. Its label bore his handwriting: "Katia and Dasha. STARS ON ICE." Two most important people in his life - his wife and daughter. Some time later, when I gave the tape back to him, I mentioned that I still didn't have a family picture of them in my archive. "No problem. I will find a good one and send it to you." he smiled. He didn't get another chance...
Information agencies distributed a short note: his heart stopped. Several years ago, a famous diver David Ambartsumyan died the same way. Those of us who trained with him only remembered how he used to rub the left side of his chest before each jump, as if trying to make some deep pain go away. He never complained - what kind of athlete doesn't have sore muscles, joints? Grinkov was suffering from back pain. Sometimes he even had to cancel performances during professional tours. Perhaps, even he didn't realize that behind this familiar pain stood another one, the one more dangerous. As soon as he felt better, he was so eager to get back on the ice. Maybe, because that's where he was truly happy. There was nobody else there, just him and Katia.
It is amazing how during their entire career, no photojournalist ever took pictures of them separately - from their first serious international competition in Copenhagen in 1986 to the Olympic Lillehammer in 1994. Their photos made it look as if they were always in each other's arms. Except, of course, their throw elements, during which Sergei would throw Katia in the air and she would spin at incredible speed, always knowing that she would return safely into his dear and caring hands.
A friend of mine, a German correspondent, also madly in love with Gordeeva and Grinkov's skating, once exclaimed during a heated discussion about another pair, Ludmilla Belousova and Oleg Protopopov, 'they are the only ones who I can't picture separate from each other. All others could be skating single - and G&G are not an exception." Who knew back than, what frightening separation was awaiting Sergei and Katia.
I finally came across a picture of Sergei without Katia. It was from the US, from the AP archives. The note said, 'segment of a picture taken in Lillehammer. January 19, 1994." The whole picture, as usual, was of him and Katia. And nobody knew that only twenty months later, their duet will be cut apart. Cut alive.
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