9201060379
DETROIT FREE PRESS
920213
Thursday, February 13, 1992
METRO FINAL
1D
Photo Color JOHN A. STANO
:
U.S. figure skater Christopher Bowman rehearses his routines
for today's original program. Or is he practicing for "The
Three Stooges"?
MITCH ALBOM
ALBERTVILLE '92
Copyright (c) 1992, Detroit Free Press
SHOWMAN BOWMAN IS PHONY WHO SHOULD CLEAN UP HIS ACT
ALBERTVILLE, France -- Before I explain why Christopher Bowman is about
as real as an Easter egg -- and nearly as fragile -- let me confess something
to you, Michelle:
I'm a man.
And being a man, I will never appreciate figure skating the way women do.
Sorry. It's in the genes. Like hair loss. We're just different.
WHAT WOMEN WISH: That for one magic moment, they could be like those
figure skaters, gliding over the ice as the crowd calls their names.
WHAT MEN WISH: That there was a sequel to "Animal House."
See? It's a standoff. Men can't comprehend how women watch figure skating,
and women can't understand why men watch "The Three Stooges." As they say
over here, vive la difference.
But while I confess a genetic inability to swoon over a triple salchow --
although if I knew what it was, it might help -- I must say this: I know a
fraud when I see one.
And Christopher Bowman is a biggie.
Hey, Michelle, don't tell me you buy his act. This kid is P.T. Barnum
selling tickets to the talking elephants. He's Hans Brinker from Hell. Yeah.
I know he has a fan club. But before you join and get your secret Christopher
Bowman decoder ring, don't forget that this fellow, who unfortunately is
America's best hope for a gold medal in men's figure skating, began in
Hollywood, as a child actor, doing countless commercials and making
appearances in shows such as "Little House on the Prairie."
A child actor? Great. In another life, he's Danny Bonaduce.
You want Danny Bonaduce on the medal stand?
Not that I have anything against actors. As long as they keep it onstage.
But Bowman doesn't know when to turn it on, because he never turns it off. One
minute he's crying. Next minute he's playing Joe Cool behind sunglasses. One
minute he's telling you how he never practices, the next minute he's telling
you he's serious about the Olympics.
One minute he's confessing to a Los Angeles reporter, "I'm not superhuman.
I have insecurities like everyone else." The next minute, he says this to
Dick Button: "At least I have my hair."
Don't you get it, Michelle? Bowman has more personalities than Sybil's
birthday party. The one constant is that, sooner or later, no matter where he
goes or what he does, he becomes a pain in the butt. Don't take it from me.
Take it from his former coaches. See that long line over there? Men and women
with their heads in their hands?
Frank Carroll, his first coach, once asked, "Why do I have the only maniac
in figure skating?"
Toller Cranston, a former Olympian, got so sick of Bowman he dumped him.
Ellen Burka, who lasted just over a year with the little devil, recently
said, "Christopher needs someone to supervise him 24 hours a day."
Hmmm.
What do baby-sitters get these days?
Now don't get me wrong. The kid can skate. He can jump. He can spin. And
when the heat is on, he cooks. He's Sammy Davis doing "Mr. Bojangles" on the
Jerry Lewis telethon. He's Mr. Entertainment, all right, but mostly because
he's addicted to the spotlight. Even he admits he has won bronze medals when
he should have won golds, finished fifth when he should have been first.
But hey. Who has time to practice when you have all these stunts to think up?
It is hard to typecast a guy who, among other things, has dyed his black
hair blond, has a tattoo, has fought off drug rumors, refers to himself as
"Bowman the Showman" and, when asked recently how he wanted to be remembered,
said this: "He lived it . . . he loved it . . . and if it's not new and
it's not Mexico, why is it New Mexico?"
Good stuff. Call Jay Leno.
But don't tell me this a nice, honest kid who is just misunderstood.
Bowman is a Valley Boy actor who, like most people in Hollywood, could use a
few years on a couch. He is playing the Olympics as a springboard to the BIG
TIME. He wants movies. He wants billboards and endorsements. Never mind that
most gold medalists get contracts to dance with Snoopy.
The way Bowman sees it, they'll rename it "The Chris Capades."
Yes, Michelle, he's colorful and different. So is a green monkey. But in
the end, even if he outskates everybody else, even if wins the gold medal
Saturday, what you can count on from Christopher Bowman is that he will be
obnoxious, phony, and, in a word, silly, silly, silly.
Take it from me.
And Moe, Larry and Curly.
OLYMPIC