Witt Competes With What She Was

BOSTON - Katarina Witt says she is not kidding herself. She is almost 28 years old and she cannot do a triple axel. She cannot do half a dozen triple anythings, and is not going to try. Not now and not at February's Winter Games in Lillehammer - assuming she even makes it there.

"I'm very realistic, I'm down-to-earth," says the two-time Olympic figure skating champion. "I know I'm not going to do five or six different triples like the average girls. I'm not able to do them."

It has been nearly six years since Witt won her second gold medal at Calgary. The country she won it for - the German Democratic Republic - has been dead for three years. The women she defeated - Debi Thomas, Elizabeth Manley, Jill Trenary, Caryn Kadavy - are married or have turned pro, or both. Most of the women she'll have to beat at Lillehammer are teenagers. Oksana Bayul, the Ukrainian world champion, was still on double runners when Witt won at Sarajevo in 1984.

Women's skating has taken a flying leap since 1988. The triple axel barrier fell four years ago. France's Surya Bonaly now lands quadruple jumps. An Olympic-level women's long program now includes seven triples. So why is Witt even bothering? Because most women can't hit seven under pressure. And because Witt is the finest female pressure skater who ever lived.

She came from behind to win both of her gold medals. And in 1987, while a Cincinnati crowd was still on its feet, cheering for Thomas, Witt nailed her program and grabbed the world title away from her. "The girl is amazing," Thomas said later. "She's so tough. She just does what she has to do."

Tough part comes now

What Witt has to do now may be her toughest assignment. She has to chase her own ghost, whether she wants to or not. She will not merely be competing against the Bayuls and the Bonalys and the Kerrigans at Olympus. She will be competing against the woman she used to be.

So why is Witt doing it?

Because she can. Because the timing is right. Because skating's current rules benefit her. And because all those teenagers may not land all those triples when the heat is on.

Witt spent the 1992 Olympics in a CBS commentator's booth, watching every women's contender wobble and crash. "I felt itching in my feet," she conceded. When the International Skating Union dropped its ban on professionals, Witt decided to try for what no woman since Norway's Sonja Henie (1928-32-36) has achieved - a third Olympic title.

"I don't want to sit on my past seasons," she says. "I need some sort of mountain I have to climb up. It is a big risk and I think I could fail. But you have to try."

So Witt phoned Jutta Muller, the woman who prodded her to her gold medals, to see if she'd coach her one last time. "I told her the opportunity is there, that I wanted to take the challenge and do it for myself and see how far I can go," Witt says. "And she said yes."

It wasn't as though Witt had been gathering cobwebs since Calgary. She had spent more time on tour than Bob Hope, bouncing from city to city for one-night-only performances. But Witt hasn't skated under international rules since she won her fourth world crown in 1988. And she hasn't skated anything like the kind of program she'll need to win at Lillehammer or even at December's German national championships, where Witt will have to finish in the top two to make the Olympic team.

Looking at the competition

Witt may not need a triple axel, but that doesn't mean she'll be able to get by with a tap dance, either. What she saw at last winter's world championships in Prague, where half a dozen women - including countrywomen Marina Kielmann and Tanja Szewczenko - skated clean long programs, impressed her. "It was very interesting," Witt says. "I saw there was a big jump forward technically."

If the same women skate the same way at Lillehammer ("That's what I'm afraid of"), Witt could be well back in the pack and she knows it. But she also knows from experience that most skaters choke at Olympus. Witt won her gold medals because she didn't crack and others did.

Rosalyn Sumners, the world champion, needed only to land a triple toe loop and a double axel in the final seconds and she would have won at Sarajevo. She couldn't do either and ended up second. Thomas had a tougher program than Witt did at Calgary. But she botched three jumps and ended up third. "I tried," Thomas sighed later. "I just couldn't do it. What a nightmare!"

Witt has never been an aerialist, but she can land what she brings and she can land it with the whole world watching. "Katarina is probably the best female competitor I've ever known. Ever," says Brian Boitano, who won the men's gold medal at Calgary and has toured with Witt as a professional. "She's aggressive, confident. Whether she can do as many jumps, I don't know, but . . ."

Doing the jumps isn't the problem for most skaters. Landing them is. And Witt knows that judges take a dim view of splattered triples. "It's still figure skating," she says. "There should be something beautiful and wonderful about it. If skaters can land seven triples, that's fine. But if they're trying seven and landing two, that's bad for skating."

How many triples Witt will try remains a secret. She won't flight-test her programs until the German championships and she may not compete in the European championships in January.

"I'll just see where I am," she says.

Where Witt is, physically and technically and artistically, only she and Muller know. Their relationship has changed since the old socialist days, when Witt was a state-supported "worker's hero" who did what Muller told her.

"She leaves a lot of it up to me now," says Witt. "She can't push me like 10 years ago. She has to be more of a psychologist. We talk differently than we used to. Years ago, Frau Muller would yell at me, `You got to be better. You must do this and that.' Now she says, `What do you want to do?' "

At this point, Witt wants to do what she still can do. That may mean only three or four triple jumps as part of a graceful and polished package. And she wants to be judged based on who she is now, not on the 22-year-old she was at Calgary. And not as a professional against amateurs.

"A lot of judges will say, `Well, she's had her chance, she's made her money, she should leave the field and let the younger ones win,' " Witt acknowledges. "I don't want to get any gifts. I just hope it's fair."

Witt already has two advantages she didn't have in 1988. The compulsory figures, which Witt never performed well, have since been dropped. And the artistic mark, not the technical mark, is now used as the scoring tie-breaker in the long program.

"I have an advantage on the artistic side," Witt believes. "I have much more experience now. Even though I'm 10 years older than some of the other skaters, I have something else to give."

On a level ice surface, Witt believes she can hold her own. Or at least she's willing to gamble.

"You question yourself every day: `Why am I doing this?,' " Katarina Witt says. "But I know why. I've made the decision. I'm going to go. If it doesn't work out, at least I've tried it. I'd never want to sit there 10 years from now and wish I'd done it."