Paul Oberjuerge: Calling for Tougher Skaters

I've decided we need tougher guys in men's skating. And I'm not talking about tobacco-chewin' truckers.

The Johnny Weirs and Evan Lysaceks are fun fun fun, but they lack the mental/emotional grit to take care of business in the pressure-cooker of the Olympic Games.

The Soviets/Russians seem to find guys who are athletes first, divas second. Alexei Yagudin, in 2002, was as direct as a punch in the mouth. Evgeni Plushenko was considered something of a fop in 2002 (he had shoulder-length hair, and an outfit Johnny Weir would have called over-the-top) ... but he showed up here wearing almost all black and skating to music from "The Godfather", which ain't exactly subtle.

And, we should note, Plushenko came through when it mattered. Sure, he's also better than anyone else, but ...

Let's look at our guys. Johnny Weir was set for a medal. Second in the short, a guy whose style judges are predisposed to like -- expressive, precise. But the self-described "princessy" boy imploded in the free skate. Just a complete meltdown, one he never really adequately explained. Basically, he just QUIT about one minute into his free skate. A skater of any mental toughness would have shrugged off the first missed triple-double and moved on. Johnny just threw his program over the side. It was awful. An embarrassment.

He had plenty of excuses. Missing a bus and not getting to the arena in time (and who's mistake was that?), his "aura" being off, his "mind wandering" after the first minute. Like, WHAT?

He also spent a lot of time here complaining about his room in the Athletes Village. It was small and bare and it depressed him. Blah, blah, blah. It made him lethargic.

These are not the sorts of issues gold-medalists obsess over. They are all business, intense and focused.

Evan Lysacek also seemed mentally weak. His self-congratulation Thursday night for coming back and skating well after he stunk up the Palavela in the short two nights before was excessive. He almost sprained his shoulder patting himself on the back for doing a decent job -- once the pressure was off, mind you.

He implied he must have been coming down with something on Tuesday, but all that commode-hugging he did later on (he says) that night might have been a natural gag-reflex reaction to his own performance.

Bottom line: He skated great when it no longer mattered. He stunk when he was still in it. Johnny Weir skated great the night no medals are awarded. He went walkabout when it mattered.

Where is our next Scott Hamilton? Our next no-nonsense, mentally tough male skater? It would be nice if our guys could win a gold while Dick Button is around to see it.