Oh last night was a corker. The girls snowboarded and Julia Mancuso continued her silver rush, but mostly men twirled around on ice and we all clapped and swooned. Now that it's over, we're worried. Was it the best event?

Because male figure skating is inherently the most ridiculous sport at the games — ohhh gender norms blahblah be damned, it's true — it always has the potential to be resoundingly silly, and thus fun. But most years we don't have huge American competitors and it's all just a bunch of weirdo Russkies and our eyes do not stay glued for long. But this year! We had Lysacek and his glorious counterpart Johnny Weir, who probably wasn't going to medal but darned if he didn't make a good case for one last night, and plus all these surprisingly attractive competitors from elsewhere. It was a big, deep field with American favorites and storied rivalries. Put that together with Black Swan costumes and Cypress Hill songs and you've got an Olympic event for the ages. And now it's done. :(

This is the first Olympics in a long while where the announcers haven't spent a lopsided amount of time plugging the women's skate during the men's, and that's mostly because there aren't any American front runners among the ladies, and no big personalities from anywhere else, really. So for the drama this Olympic go-around, the men had it. Had, past tense. And we still have a whole week of competition left! What're we going to do? Well, we're going to gawp, horrified, at incestuous ice dancers. Yes, brother/sister ice dancing teams. That really puts the deaky in freaky. If only ice dancing wasn't so stultifyingly boring.

And sure there's still some Alpine skiing left and Apolo Ohno has more dizzy circles to make, but this year the graceful guys of the lady-owned ice seemed to sparkle the brightest, and with the grand story sung to a close last night — the Dark Lord of America won, causing both joy and disappointment — the Olympic flame has flickered and waned, just a bit.