On February 21, 2026, the Milano Ice Skating Arena became the emotional epicenter of the Winter Olympics as figure skating’s brightest stars—champions and fan favorites alike—took the ice for the traditional exhibition gala. This event, always a highlight for skating enthusiasts, was especially poignant this year, as it offered Ilia Malinin a platform to confront the immense pressures he faced throughout his Olympic journey, while also showcasing the unity and support that have come to define the current generation of U.S. skaters.
Malinin, often dubbed the "Quad God" for his unprecedented mastery of quadruple jumps, entered the Milano Cortina Games as the heavy favorite to seize gold in men’s singles figure skating. The anticipation was sky-high, with fans and commentators alike expecting to witness Olympic history. Malinin had planned a free skate loaded with seven quadruple jumps, aiming to cement his dominance and etch his name into the record books. However, the unpredictability of Olympic sport reared its head. He popped his opening quad axel—a jump only he has landed in competition—and struggled to regain momentum, ultimately finishing eighth overall. It was a stunning turn of events for a skater who hadn’t lost in nearly two years and who carried the weight of a nation’s expectations on his shoulders.
In the days that followed, Malinin remained largely silent about the emotional toll of the Games. But at the gala, he let his skating do the talking. His program, set to "Fear" by NF, was a raw, unfiltered exploration of the anxiety, doubt, and relentless scrutiny he’d experienced all season. Dressed in a grey hoodie emblazoned with the word "Fear" and frayed jeans, Malinin mimed scrolling through a barrage of social media alerts, flinched under imaginary flashbulbs, and ultimately pulled his hood over his head in a gesture of withdrawal. The audience watched as he embodied the lyrics: “Like a puppet, with strings, I just don’t have the choice. What’s the truth? What’s a lie?...Breakin’ down, spiralin’, Is this what you wanted?”
"I really just wanted to share an extension of my thoughts and something that I’ve been feeling for this whole Olympic season," Malinin said, opening up after the performance. "There’s been so much pressure, so much doubt, and everything around me, the noise, the media, the people, the environment—it’s been so overwhelming." According to Reuters, Malinin’s skate was not just a performance, but a quiet rebuttal of criticism and scrutiny. He ended his routine by pretending to tug on headphones, bringing the arena to immediate silence—a powerful symbol of seeking refuge from the world’s noise.
Despite the disappointment of his competitive result, Malinin’s exhibition skate was met with a standing ovation. He landed one quadruple jump in the routine and finished with his trademark backflip, sticking the landing on one foot and sending the crowd into rapturous applause. It was a moment of catharsis, both for Malinin and for the audience, who seemed to recognize not just his technical brilliance but also the immense burden he had carried.
Malinin’s candidness about mental health and the pressures of elite sport echoes a broader shift within the U.S. figure skating community. The women’s team—Alysa Liu, Amber Glenn, and Isabeau Levito—have garnered attention for their close-knit camaraderie, a rarity in a sport often characterized by fierce rivalries and emotional stoicism. Liu, the newly crowned Olympic women’s champion, delighted fans with a carefree gala performance set to "Stateside" by PinkPantheress and Zara Larsson, her joy on the ice evident to all. After stepping away from competition for two years, Liu returned on her own terms, describing herself as at "peak happiness."
Amber Glenn’s Olympic journey was also a testament to resilience and friendship. After a mistake in the short program left her in 13th place, Glenn rebounded with a strong free skate to finish fifth. Liu was among the first to comfort her teammate, helping Glenn move past her disappointment. This supportive spirit extended even beyond Team USA. When Japan’s Kaori Sakamoto missed a jump in the free program and was overcome with emotion, Glenn stepped in to hug her, shielding Sakamoto from intrusive cameras. "That’s one of the most beautiful things about sport, it’s not just what we do out there when we perform, but the journey and the people who surround us during it," Glenn reflected. "I think that is something that will improve so many athletes’ lives, and that’s what I’ve wanted to do."
The exhibition gala itself was a celebration of both achievement and artistry. The invite-only event brought together medalists and fan favorites from across figure skating’s disciplines. Alongside Malinin and Liu, performers included Madison Chock and Evan Bates—who took silver in ice dance after a hotly debated result—Japan’s pairs champions Riku Miura and Ryuichi Kihara, and a host of international stars. Notably, Isabeau Levito, despite her strong performances, was not included in the gala lineup this year.
For Malinin, the gala was a chance to reclaim his narrative. Earlier in the week, he had posted on Instagram that his pressure-packed Olympic debut resulted in an "inevitable crash." But on the gala ice, he found a way to connect with the crowd and share his truth. "We also have real thoughts, real feelings, even though it looks like we’re completely like robots and [have] superhuman abilities. But in the end, deep inside, we’re still similar [to] all of you," he reminded fans.
The Milano Cortina 2026 exhibition gala was not just a showcase of athletic prowess, but a testament to the evolving culture of figure skating—one that values vulnerability, friendship, and mental well-being as much as medals. As the Olympic flame prepares to dim and the world’s attention shifts, the message from Malinin and his teammates lingers: greatness is not just measured in jumps and scores, but in the courage to be human under the brightest lights.
With the closing ceremonies on the horizon, the figure skating community leaves Milan with powerful new stories—of struggle, of support, and of finding one’s voice on the world’s grandest stage.