olympics spotlight

MILAN — Maxim Naumov typically trembles as he waits in his opening position before the music begins. But on Tuesday, the 24-year-old U.S. figure skater stood firm at center ice with the Olympic rings beneath his feet and his right fist raised. A white gold ring with a single diamond on his ring finger glittered in the light.

It was his father’s ring.

A year after his parents, Vadim Naumov and Evgenia Shishkova, were among 67 people killed in a Washingon, D.C. plane crash, Naumov carried their strength during his Olympic debut and delivered an emotional season’s best 85.65 in the men’s short program that qualified him for the free skate.

U.S. teammate Andrew Torgashev also scored a season’s best in his Olympic debut, qualifying for Thursday’s free skate with an 89.94. His coaching team, which includes Irvine-based Rafael Arutyunyan, fist-bumped after Torgashev hit the final combination jump of his program. Skating to “Maybe I Maybe You” by the Scorpions, Torgashev flashed the rock-and-roll symbol to the crowd as he saluted.

Instead of the raw emotion Naumov released after the U.S. championship that clinched his Olympic spot last month, he smiled purely and breathed deeply while the crowd at Milano Ice Skating Arena showered him with applause. He looked toward the rafters and spoke to his parents.

“Look what we just did,” Naumov said. “We did it.”

Maxim Naumov holds a photo of his parents after competing during the men’s free skate at the U.S. championships.

(Stephanie Scarbrough / Associated Press)

The elder Naumov and Shishkova were three-time world pairs skating medalists and two-time Olympians. The 1994 world champions coached at the Skating Club of Boston and remained at the 2025 U.S. championships in Wichita, Kan., after the competition to coach a development camp.

Maxim Naumov, who had finished fourth at the U.S. championships for the third time in a row, returned home immediately after the competition. In one of their last discussions as a family, Naumov’s father laid out the plan to ensure they could reach the Olympics in one year. The talk lasted about 45 minutes. After the first 30 minutes, Naumov said he was rolling his eyes the way children often do, but he understood the message: They were going to work together and revamp everything they do.

After the crash on Jan. 29, 2025, Naumov struggled to leave the house. He couldn’t bear to tie his skates. Going to the rink felt unimaginable.

At every moment, Naumov wanted to lay in bed and rot. He instead chose to find the thing that felt like the most difficult task and attack it. At first it was simply waking up. Then it was getting out of bed. Then it was going to work and coaching his parents’ former students. Now they’re his students.

“The only way out is through,” Naumov said. “Everyone has the ability to do that: to remain strong in your mind, have willpower and do things out of love instead of fear. I think if you’re able to do that, whatever it is that you’re going through, however big or small, you can have small wins every single day, and you can do things that you never thought that you could.”

Naumov earned his Olympic spot by finishing third at last month’s U.S. championships. The emotions of the national competition that would decide the family’s dream were so heavy that after he finished his free program, he found a secluded corner in the tunnel and sobbed.

Finally on the Olympic stage, Naumov felt nothing but stillness. Naumov said he felt his parents’ presence and the support of the entire figure skating community “like a hand on my back pushing me forward.”

Looking at old videos can still be painful for Naumov. But he mustered the strength to look through the family’s large photo album ahead of the U.S. championships and pick out several photos he brought to the competition. His parents had always been in the kiss-and-cry with him. With his spot on the Olympic team at stake, he wanted them there again.

Waiting for his score in Milan, Naumov flashed a photo he picked. He is flanked by his parents standing on the ice for the first time at about 3 years old.

Two decades later, he was stepping off Olympic ice.

“To be able to just have 2 minutes and 50 seconds to show what you’ve been working on for 19 years, and to be able to make it happen when it matters and when it counts, there’s no feeling like it at all ever,” Naumov said, still breathless from the emotional performance more than 30 minutes after he nailed the final note. “I just hope that I made everyone proud.”

U.S. flags waved on every side of the rink as he saluted the crowd. He knows his mother would have not been there watching in person because she was too nervous to attend. Refreshing the online score tracker to keep up with Naumov’s program, she would always find a way to send a message of support to her son.

Before his program, Naumov sent a message of his own.

“Mom and dad,” the videoboard in the arena read, “this is for you.”