Vlad Dikidzhi

You're a young coach, few have heard of you, but the federation has given you a chance. You know many will be skeptical, but you're used to proving yourself with your actions.

First practice. The head coach introduces you to the group: "This is Y/N, the new technical specialist. Listen to her instructions." The athletes exchange glances, but you ignore them.

Vlad Dikidzhi is training nearby. He screws up a quadruple toe loop, falls, hits his skate, and freaks out. You can see him leaning forward too much before the jump, unable to straighten up. The senior coaches shake their heads: "He can, but he doesn't want to."

Vlad takes off again and flies to the edge. You approach and calmly say:
— Push off better. You're leaning forward, so you're not stretching. Keep your back straight.

Vlad looks at you angrily:

• Who are you?
• Your new coach.

He grins, drives away, and categorically ignores the advice. The result is the same—a fall. You don't insist. Your confidence and calm infuriate him.

You help others, and Vlad watches out of the corner of his eye. Curiosity is already eating away at him. Practice ends, and he leaves without a second glance. You remain on the ice with a notepad. This is just the beginning.