Farewell, Matti Nykänen
<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Garamond; panose-1:2 2 4 4 3 3 1 1 8 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:Garamond; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} -->
Most sports I can imagine myself doing, but just being rubbish at them. There are a few that seem to defy possibility – ski jumping is one of them. Maybe as a result, I’ve always found it utterly gripping. When I was in my 30s, an age when sporting heroes seem to make a comeback – in my 20s I thought I was far too arty and intellectual for such stuff, then I realized I wasn’t – this one was dominated by Matti Nykänen. He ripped the record-books apart. He also came from a small country that didn’t coin medals the way that the US, Russia and East Germany did. He later surfaced in Eddie the Eagle, a movie I really like, despite its being a trifle formulaic (such films either work or they don’t, and this one does for me). And now he is gone, aged 55. His post-sporting career was a long battle with booze, and the booze ended up winning.
As a writer, there’s always that question: if you were offered the chance to be a genius, but the price was the terrible lostness that seemed to close over the Flying Finn, would you accept it?
The world is a duller place for his passing, and my condolences to his family, anyway.
Comments