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MILAN — When she skated, Tara Lipinski was always nervous. But it was different before the free skate of the 1998 Olympics. The teenager cried that morning. She called her parents after the six-minute warmup and said she couldn’t do it. Her legs were physically shaking in her beginning pose. She didn’t know what to do.

“When you go to the Olympics, there’s no training for that,” said Lipinski, now an analyst for NBC. “You don’t know what it’s going to feel like ‘til you’re actually feeling it.”

The awe-inspiring dream that often starts as a child can quickly turn into a nightmare for athletes who get blinded by the bright Olympic spotlight. While Lipinski realized her dream, becoming Olympic champion in Nagano, she knows the suffocating feeling of competing under the Olympic rings.

She knows the stress that devoured Ilia Malinin on Friday in Milan.

Malinin’s meltdown from favorite to eighth place underscored the unpredictability of the Olympic stage. The 21-year-old dubbed “the Quad God” was supposed to unleash the first quadruple axel in Olympic history. The four-and-a-half twisting jump he successfully executed when he was 17 has been the talk of the Olympic cycle.

Battling nerves and the conditioning needed for a long Olympic competition, he didn’t use it during the team competition or his individual short program. The free skate would be the last opportunity. It felt like the perfect coronation for the soon-to-be Olympic champion.

Then he bailed midair.

“I think that, for me, I would be like, ‘Oh, man, I just missed what everyone was waiting for,’” Lipinski said. “You go through that minute of being rattled and you have to come back to [the program]. … The next jump [he] wasn’t able to completely reset and shake it off. And then once that next mistake happened — and for Ilia, who doesn’t make mistakes — I think that was probably very difficult for him.”

The standing-room-only crowd gasped when Malinin gave up on the quad axel. Fans grew more uneasy when he fell two jumps later. They tried to urge him on as the mistakes piled up. Instead of joyful encouragement, the clapping felt like desperation in the arena.

Ilia Malinin falls during his free skate at the Milan-Cortina Games on Friday.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Eight years ago, when Nathan Chen bent under the Olympic pressure in Pyeongchang, the crowd’s gasps each time he stumbled through his short program only made one of the hardest moments of his career even more difficult.

“That just hurts you to your gut,” Chen said in a video for Yahoo Sports. “You get up and mentally you have to refresh … but also the energy just changes in the arena. You can tell there’s tension now.”

Chen, then 18 years old in his Olympic debut, bounced back in a fearless free skate that moved him into fifth overall. He became almost unbeatable for the next Olympic cycle. At the Beijing Games, he set the world record for the short program, exorcised the demons from 2018 and became the United States’ first Olympic gold medalist in men’s singles in 12 years.

Malinin was a contender to be at those Games four years ago. He finished second in the 2022 U.S. championships, but was left off the Olympic team in a controversial decision. Then just 17, he was only in his first full season of senior competition.

But Malinin was already poised to be the future of the sport. Simply going to the Games as an understudy to Chen’s leading role would have been valuable experience.

Instead, U.S. Figure Skating selected third-place finisher Vincent Zhou and fourth-place Jason Brown.

Sitting with his coaches while waiting for his score Friday, a frustrated Malinin said if he had been sent to Beijing, he “wouldn’t have skated like that.”

“It’s not easy,” he said as cameras zoomed into his face.

He shrugged. He reset.

“It’s done,” he said.

“I think if I went to ’22 then I would have had more experience and know how to handle this Olympic environment,” a composed Malinin said in the mixed zone interview area. “But also, I don’t know what the next stages of my life would look like if I went there. So now all I can do is just regroup from this and really just take in the information that happened and just figure out how to manage in the future.”

Malinin has said he wants to skate for three Olympic cycles. The first attempt ended in shattering disappointment. That could only make the comeback sweeter.

“He will dominate the sport for years to come,” Lipinski said. “This was a huge, obviously, heartbreak for him, but we will see him rise again.”

Before hitting the stage, the comedians of the TV series “Jokes with JoySauce” have an on-camera ritual of exchanging immigrant stories about growing up with their families. There is no audience during these moments, just comics being vulnerable with one another.

The tales give insight into the lives they live offstage and their perspectives as Asian Americans that inspire so much of their material. It lets the audience know more about these up-and-coming comedians without the generic stage introductions.

The series is part of the original program curated for JoySauce, available on Amazon Prime. It premiered in early January as part of the first free, ad-supported streaming channel dedicated to highlighting Asian American voices across comedy, film, reality TV and sitcoms.

Season 1 of “Jokes with JoySauce” is currently airing as part of the launching programming for the channel. Director and creator of the series Ana Tuazon Parsons is excited to watch it grow.

Narumi Inatsugu, from left, Cat Ce, Ana Tuazon Parsons and Jonathan Sposato at The Times’ office in El Segundo.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

“I’m still definitely going for that underground punk rock, like, let’s-find-some-cool-people kind of thing for Season 2,” Parsons said. “Bigger and better venue, and more budget, more budget, please.”

While Parsons focuses on cultivating new comedic voices, JoySauce wants to create its own opportunities for people in the community by broadening its mission of ownership and representation.

“We won’t really get the full spectrum of the representation that I believe that we deserve unless we own the pipeline and the platforms and the carriers and really the gateways,” Jonathan Sposato, creator of Joysauce, said.

He decided to bring the platform to the masses in 2022 after growing sick and tired of how much hate his community was going through and wanting to fill in a gap in the media. Media representation was also low for Asian American actors, with only 6% of all Asian characters in 100 titles on streaming platforms in 2022 in leading roles, according to a study by USC Annenberg Gold House.

“I do think positivity wins,” Sposato said. “Comedy is a very necessary tool, a necessary ingredient in the overall mix of what we’re trying to offer.”

His goal is to broaden the concept of Asian American culture through storytelling that would display what the U.S. has to offer while staying rooted in Asia.

“A win for JoySauce is a win for anybody who feels underrepresented, who doesn’t feel like they’re considered the normative mainstream,” he said.

At a time when attention is a currency, creating a space that’s focused on elevating AAPI voices will help diversify the media landscape.

“A win for JoySauce is a win for anybody who feels underrepresented, who doesn’t feel like they’re considered the normative mainstream,” JoySauce creator Jonathan Sposato, left, said.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

“As a comedian, you cannot complain,” Cat Ce, a comedian whose special “Perfect Chinglish” was licensed by JoySauce, said. “Nowadays, you want it on so many different platforms, you never know which kind of audience you may reach.”

Her work reflects the kind of storytelling JoySauce hopes to amplify. The comedy hour by Ce deals with the cultural differences when dealing with family, friends and romantic relationships as a Chinese American. For Narumi Inatsugu, that universality is the point.

As the chief creative officer of JoySauce, Inatsugu wants to create a space where Asian Americans do not feel outnumbered.

“For so long I thought nobody cared about Asian American stories,” he said.

As a curator of the channel, and host of the upcoming “Chopsticks and Chill,” an interview show where he shares a meal with influential members of the AAPI community, Inatsugu wants to create a platform where the younger generation can see the many opportunities life can offer, regardless of your cultural background.

“It’s community building, it’s letting people know they can be whatever they want, do whatever they want,” he said.

Season 1 of “Jokes with JoySauce” is currently airing and is part of the first free, ad-supported streaming channel dedicated to highlighting Asian American voices across comedy, film, reality TV and sitcoms.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Throughout his years in the entertainment industry and in production meetings, Inatsugu felt like he couldn’t pitch certain stories because they were aimed at his Asian community. He hopes an outlet like JoySauce can create a safe space for creative minds to feel like they can be themselves and not feel outnumbered, the way he once did.

Everything in the details of a show will make people feel welcomed, from the people making it to the food that’s made available for the cast and crew.

During production of the first season of “Jokes with JoySauce,” Parsons made sure every aspect of the production was AAPI, including the food. Her production team made sure to fill the craft table with food that can be found at any Asian market. The sense of belonging is exactly the reason she built “Jokes with JoySauce” and why JoySauce exists.

“When I’d see the comics come up into the greenroom and their faces, it was like ‘Oh, I feel so like they were just reverted to their childhoods,’” she said. “It was just like they felt like they were at home with their families, and it was so important for me, it made me cry a little bit.”

The scent of hand-poured candles filled the air in the Little Welsh Dresser, one of Llandeilo’s clutch of arts and crafts shops. This vibrant Welsh market town is a creative spot – it’s where the famous Dinefwr wool blankets are woven and boasts many galleries and antique stores – and is a pretty place to wander. Our eyes land on the rows of handmade cards and mugs stamped with Welsh words. One said: Cwtch. Pronounced “kutch” , it has no direct translation into English. “It’s a big, warm hug,” said the shop owner, “but also it’s a feeling, a sense of belonging,” – and a word that would come to define our weekend.

We – I was travelling with my friend, Anna – were here to try out Discover Carmarthenshire’s new “The Sisterhood” breaks that tap into the growing trend of women swapping prosecco-fuelled girlie weekends for trips that focus on new skills and wellbeing experiences. For those wanting pre-curated stays there’s a Sisterhood Sorted section on the website, but groups of any size can create a bespoke trip by selecting west, central or coastal Carmarthenshire, choosing from a list of places to stay (from barns to glamping pods ), and then selecting experiences led by Wild Kin, a collection potters, painters, coastal foragers, horse whisperers, walking guides, makers and massage therapists.

We’d chosen Ardderfin Farmhouse on the outskirts of historic Carmarthen, a rustic stone cottage with a clawfoot bath and huge open fireplace . It reminded us of the cottage in the film The Holiday.

After settling in, we drove 15 minutes into town for dinner. “Carmarthen is still a community of farmers and the Women’s Instituteis still massive here,” said Rachel Williams, owner of the New Curiosity – a weekends-only, seasonal-menu restaurant she runs with her husband-chef, Daniel. “Everyone at our tables tends to know each other – my home is your home,” she said, as I tucked in to a perfectly pink Welsh sirloin.

Saturday brought low sun that splayed silhouettes of the skeletal trees across the frosted fields as we wended up into the hills to meet Yoka Kilkelly, AKA the “Dutch potter on the hill”, who runs her Siramik pottery studioout of a converted barn on a sheep farm. Inside, the slate stone walls were spattered with flecks of clay.

We started with wedging – kneading the clay to soften it, make its texture consistent and ensure there are no air bubbles in it. It requires serious heft. “No potter has bingo wings,” smiled Yoka, as we struggled away while she made her clay look as soft as bread dough. We portioned our clay into four, thwacked a lump on to the potter’s wheel and started coaxing it into shape as it span. “A person’s personality shapes their pot,” said Yoka. My clay morphed into coffee cups and Anna’s turned into a bowl, which we later daubed with a glaze. “It’s a mindful practice,” she added. With shards of winter sun spearing through the studio windows and the sensation of earthy clay spinning in my palms, I did feel very present.

In the afternoon, we drove toward Llansteffan for a short walk along the sands of the Tywi estuary. Atop a hill was the crenelated shadow of 800-year-old Llansteffan Castle. The tide had drawn back, leaving a trail of bone-white cockle shells and shallow pools that reflected the pinkening sunset. Anna, a keen birder, was scanning for curlews and egrets, camera at the ready. It’s not often I get to see her in her element.

We returned to Ardderfin Farmhouse to find our next activity waiting. Lowri Johnston is a yoga teacher and organic flower farmer based in nearby Nantgaredig. We lit the fire in the living room and she guided us through a gentle session. Then, fuelled by brownies she’d brought from a local bakery, she taught us to make willow wreaths gilded with ivy, eucalyptus, pine cones and dried dahlias foraged from her own farm, slowly warming the willow first to coax it into a circle.

“I love doing this because it embeds people in the seasons and land,” Lowri said. She told us that the Welsh word for sisterhood is chwaeroliaeth. “It means ‘sisters together.’ In Wales we have a history of women meeting, especially while making food – milking, churning butter, that sort of thing.”

After Lowri left us, Anna and I dined on a gourmet picnic of homemade meatballs in tomato sauce followed by ginger cake with toffee sauce that had been delivered by Wright’s Food. We revived the fire, and sat in deep sofas talking until the wee hours as the embering wood hissed and crackled.

Sunday dawned with rain drifting across the fields. I nudged the car toward Newcastle Emlyn to meet primary school teacher turned jeweller Elen Bowen, who runs silver and gold jewellery making workshops at her home. She only turned her hand to it in 2023 after having twin girls and deciding on a career change. “I thought, heck, I’ll start an Instagram page and see how it goes – and it snowballed!” This year, she was selected to craft the crown for best story writer in the National Eisteddfod – Wales’ largest annual festival celebrating Welsh literature, music and arts.

Anna chose to make a bracelet; I decided on a ring. And with Elen’s guidance, we hammered, soldered and polished, bringing our own personalities to the piece, as we had with the pottery. After, we gathered around the table to share bowlfuls of her homemade cawl – Welsh stew.

By the time we left, and had hugged goodbye every woman we’d met, I thought back to the mug printed with cwtch – how it wasn’t just a hug, but a sense of being gathered in by each of the creators we’d spent time with. It was the perfect word for a weekend crafted together with fun, food and a deeper sense of closeness to each other.

The trip was provided by Discover Carmarthenshire’s Sisterhood Campaign. Ardderfin Farmhouse sleeps 8 adults, from £772 for two nights. Activities (based on a group of 6+) include a half-day pottery workshop with Siramik from £80pp; yoga and wreath-making with Lowri Johnston for £90pp; and a jewellery workshop with Elen Bowen for £130pp, including lunch

A GIANT new theme park ride that’s the “tallest of its kind” in the UK has taken a major step forward.

The iconic amusement site is gearing up for a massive landmark moment as engineers have now installed the ride’s giant gondola.

Structural work has begun on the £8.72m mega attraction, with steel frameworks now emerging on site.

Blackpool Pleasure Beach Resort is currently busy installing its newest ride – a record-breaking gyro-swing called Aviktas.

When everything is finished, the mega ride will officially be the tallest of its kind in the UK.

The scream machine will carry 40 people at a time, swinging them through a massive 120-degree arc that reaches 138ft above the promenade.

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Riders’ legs will dangle giving them the feeling of flying.

With its gigantic pendulum finally hanging in place, the structure is starting to look like a finished ride.

Frames are popping up to create the loading area where the first brave riders will eventually wait for their turn.

The latest crowd-pleaser will drastically change the way the seaside resort’s coastline will look.

While an exact opening date has not yet been confirmed, the ride is expected to welcome its first passengers later in 2026.

Amanda Thompson OBE, CEO of Pleasure Beach Resort previously teased: “This ride will be colossal, daunting, exhilarating and an incredible addition to the town.”