Untitled Document

By Amy Shipley
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, March 16, 2003; Page D01

Michael Weiss flew in his part-time hypnotherapist from Tampa to stay with him through the March 24-30
World Figure Skating Championships. (Joel Richardson - Washington Post File Photo)

Weiss Is of Sound Body -- and Mind
Hypnotism Aids Skater's Title Quest

U.S. figure skating champion Michael Weiss believes the key to winning his first world title is hidden inside his head.
He is trained. He is experienced. He is talented. No one can beat him at his best, he believes firmly, not Tim Goebel,
not Evgeny Plushenko. Others may be skeptical, but Weiss believes. All he needs to do is get his mind to cooperate.

Last Monday, Weiss flew in his part-time hypnotherapist from Tampa to stay with him for three weeks, through the
March 24-30 World Figure Skating Championships in Washington. The therapist, Christopher Morrison, is living in
the Weiss's McLean home and has been hypnotizing Weiss twice daily.

Weiss's wife Lisa, meantime, is in charge of renting a 24-person Hummer limousine for the night of the men's long
program. When Weiss wins -- not if, but when -- he and a few invited guests will travel to Atlantic City for a night
of celebration. The idea is to create the expectation, the atmosphere of winning -- then do it.

"When I win, probably ABC [TV] will be sitting in the Hummer with me," Weiss said matter-of-factly, both hands
gripping the steering wheel of his black BMW with WICE 2 Virginia plates as he sped down Interstate 66.

"If I'm at my best, I don't think anyone can beat me," Weiss added later. "Plushenko is obviously a great skater,
but I feel if I hit both of my quads, both triple axels, all that stuff, then I'm better. I'm sure he feels the same way. I'm sure a number of athletes feel the same way."

Weiss, it seems, never really doubts; he simply perplexes himself with the magnitude of his ups and downs. Unfailingly, before each competition, he spouts optimism and positive energy with an almost blind-to-reality zeal. It is only in his wake, after a disappointing performance, that a trail of confusion and head-shaking takes shape.

After the short program at January's U.S. championships, Weiss complained about marks that left him in fourth place. He called the scoring "ridiculous." His coach, Don Laws, had a different take: He described his program as "a bad skate" and said it was "marked correctly."

A two-time world bronze medalist and three-time U.S. champion, Weiss, 26, is still in search of his identity in the sport.
For every success, there have been inexplicable meltdowns, injury-filled slumps. And even his biggest victories have often been littered with missteps.

"When I watch Michael, I'm very uncomfortable," said a prominent international coach who requested anonymity.
"I don't sit back and relax and watch him. I just feel like: 'What's going to happen?' When Michael gets on the ice, you never know what could happen. He could be brilliant and perform clean or it could be a disaster from Hell."

Weiss, though, has always leaned on his strong self-assurance. Weiss married his choreographer in his early twenties, fathered two children and all the while remained surrounded by his extended family in the Virginia suburbs. He resides in a bubble of comfort and contentment; his life is stable. He feeds Annie Mae, 4, and Christopher, 3, breakfast and plays with them in the mornings. He trains 10 minutes from his home. He attends Wizards and Capitals games.

He is polite and good-natured, friendly and fun, rarely angry about anything. Even his own unpredictability he sees in positive terms.

"A lot of people are just down," Weiss said. "To be up and down is great; that means you are up a lot of the time.
I'm really happy that I've been an up and down skater, because I've been up before. This season, I've found what works for me."

Weiss no longer trains as zealously as he did when he first attracted notice in 1997, finishing second at the U.S. championships. He used to skate for three to four hours daily, then work out for three or four hours off the ice. He pumped iron at his father's Gold's Gym, attended Pilates classes and ran sprints and hurdles on a local track.

Now, Weiss trains once daily for about 90 minutes and takes a Pilates class that is designed to make him stronger
at the core, like a pillar. He has eliminated the weight training and track work.

"I've cut back a lot," he said. "I used to kill myself. I've gotten to the point where I've felt like I've done everything to make
myself strong, flexible and balanced. Now is the time to reap the rewards."

Weiss believes this, really and truly, is his time. He will be performing 20 miles from home, at MCI Center. Family and friends will be supporting him from box seats. And last fall he felt himself stepping out of the vestiges of a generally lousy nine months. The turning point, Weiss believes, came in Paris in November.

There, Weiss won his first competition of the season, the Grand Prix event Trophee Lalique, despite starting in fifth place at the beginning of the deciding long program. A combination of Weiss's excellence, and other skaters' collapses, earned him a stunning title.

Going into the event, Weiss's season was in disarray. Coming off a seventh-place finish at the 2002 Winter Games, Weiss had bombed at two Grand Prix events, finishing fifth at Skate America in October and fourth at the Bofrost Cup in Germany in November. Even more distressing was the fact that Weiss had recently taken measures to elevate his skating. Late last summer, he began working part-time with Laws, who once coached Scott Hamilton, along with his longtime coach Audrey Weisiger.

The night of his disappointing finish at Skate America, he fired Weisiger and told Laws he wanted his full-time guidance. The news stunned Laws, who wasn't sure where to begin to repair the tears in Weiss's career.

"I couldn't know anything about his inner workings," Laws said. "I hadn't been through enough with him. As he started telling me about his different performances over the years, I remembered them. Some were great, some were not so good. Then I realized his whole career had seemed to have been like that."

Weiss's two U.S. titles prior to this year came in 1999 and 2000. In 2001, his season was marred by injuries. Last year, he finished third at nationals, claiming the last Olympic team spot.

"With Michael, you never know," said Goebel, who won a bronze medal at the 2002 Winter Games. "He's a great athlete
and I've seen him do any number of quads in competition, but he may not be the most consistent skater. When he does put it together, he's a great competitor, but he's one of those people you're never really sure how it's going to go."

Laws saw one remedy to the inconsistent performances: consistency in training. Every day, he asked Weiss to run through
one of his programs, from start to finish. He found Weiss a compliant pupil, a man of few words and little emotion.

"He's smooth as good ice," Laws said, adding, "I would like to see him get feisty with himself, with determination and fire, and show it. [Right now] it's invisible."

Goebel's coach, Frank Carroll, said he worked with Weiss a few summers ago on artistry. Leading into the sessions, Carroll
said he expected to dislike Weiss, knowing his propensity at that time to distance himself from the lacy, graceful side of the sport.

Carroll said he expected "a macho, macho man. I thought, this man is going to hate me, and I'm going to hate him. . . . But I had a great time with him. I was impressed with his desire to do anything I asked him to do. He was like putty in my hand."

He was, in a word, nice.

Laws and Morrison have been seeking something a little meaner. After Laws and Weiss had been working together for several weeks, Laws looked Weiss in the eye after a practice.

"I said: 'I see a sleeping giant inside of you,' " Laws said. "Not because I did, but because I wanted to."

The phrase stuck. Morrison and Lisa Weiss made a sign saying "Sleeping Giant" that they hung in the arena at Trophee Lalique. (After Weiss finished fifth in the short program, they painted another word onto the sign: "AWAKENS.") They also planned their first pre-competition celebration. Days before the event, Morrison purchased a fine bottle of champagne. They agreed that, after Weiss won the event, they would pop the cork on the Eiffel Tower -- and they did.

Weiss and Morrison also discussed, during a hypnotherapy session, Weiss's priorities. Weiss's values, it turned out, were admirable enough to share with a Sunday School class, but arguably not the best for a man who gets paid to beat other skaters. Asked to rank winning as a priority, Weiss didn't place it in the top three. It was topped by such values as "being a good person" and "doing the right thing."

"Winning," Weiss admitted last week, "probably would have been sixth or seventh on my list a few years ago."

Through further hypnotherapy sessions, Morrison said, he and Weiss worked to elevate winning as a value. He said they succeeded in lifting it to No. 2.

Weiss said the change in focus has made a difference. After winning Lalique, he finished second at the Crest Whitestrips Figure Skating Challenge in Auburn Hills, Mich., behind Plushenko, and first at the U.S. championships in Dallas. Never mind that the Crest event was a relatively minor competition despite its big-name field. And never mind that nationals was so sloppy among the men that Weiss achieved the gold even with three major mistakes in his long program.

"Look what time it is," Weiss said to Morrison as he warmed up for a practice session at Reston's SkateQuest last week.

The clock read: "1:11" -- number one.

Morrison grinned.

"Since we made winning number two, he's been on this winning streak," Morrison began, but he stopped short as Weiss, gliding by, launched into a triple axel and fell hard, full-body, to the ice. For a moment, he did not move. He lay still on his back, then rolled to his side.

Laws and Morrison stood frozen, waiting. Finally, Morrison skidded over to Weiss in his street shoes and bent over him. Weiss finally sat up, his face contorted. Morrison returned to the sideline with a slight grin on his face. Weiss, meantime, said nothing. He stood up, dusted chunks of ice off of his side and back, and skated around the rink to regain his composure.

About five minutes later, he attempted another triple axel. That one, he landed cleanly.

"One might think right after [the fall] one would be afraid to do another one, but nooooo," Weiss said later as he skated past Morrison. The pair slapped hands.

"I was just having trouble, but I got it back," Weiss said after he finished his training session. "As long as the end result is good, then I am happy."