“Look at that step sequence! Walburga Black emits confidence and emotion on the ice. The ice belongs to her.”

The commentator continues speaking, but it is lost between the sound of your coach’s words.

“Calm,” she takes an exaggerated breath in, expecting you to copy her actions. “Black is good—you know that. We just gotta show them what you are,” your coach says, smiling and squeezing your hand.

The song ceases and Walburga Black comes skating off the ice. She’s met by her coaches, each giving her a pat on the back. The cameras are panned to them. She looks smug as she steps towards her booth. You shoot a glance her way, only to find her staring back.

Fifteen minutes later, you are skating onto the rink. Your coach whispers a couple encouraging words, but it wouldn’t have mattered what she said—you aren’t Walburga ‘Technically Superior’ Black.

Thousands of eyes are on you, not to mention the millions not present. The cameras, the lights, everything is pointing at you as the music queues.