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As the scenario of a baton-for-hire attack on Kerrigan unfolded, it was easy to speculate on the motives behind the assault. Worse crimes have been committed in the name of money and celebrity. But even the more creative commentators had trouble imagining what line of reasoning could have convinced the conspirators that the macabre assault would enhance Harding's Olympic edge and marketability. If the crime was solely the work of a zealous entourage that aimed to cash in on her post-Olympic fame, even the most narrow-minded conspirator must have feared that the attack might backfire, sabotaging Harding's concentration on the ice and further tainting her gutsy image.
If Harding herself was involved, surely it must have occurred to her that she risked sitting out the Olympics in a jail cell. Indeed, last week Claire Ferguson, president of the U.S. Figure Skating Association, said that the case "may be a rolling stone that rolls right over her." While Ferguson said that evidence of Harding's involvement had not emerged, she said her chances of being at the Games were "looking pretty grim." Simply having had a suspect in her employ may mean Harding's ouster.
The very blow that was apparently designed to shatter Kerrigan's hopes and improve Harding's prospects promises to have the opposite effect both on the ice and off. If Harding skates in Lillehammer, she will face a chilly reception from a panel of judges reluctant to bestow gold on a skater who has cast so dark a shadow over the sport. "Subconsciously they're probably going to mark her down," says Seppo Iso-Ahola, a University of Maryland sports psychologist.
Moreover, Harding can kiss the "dollar signs" goodbye. The combination of her manner and the scandal is sufficient to drive most potential sponsors away. Kerrigan, meanwhile, already enjoys lucrative endorsement contracts with six companies, including Reebok and Campbell's soup. The events of the past week have made Kerrigan even more valuable. "People are calling from all over the country with offers for television and book deals," says Jerry Solomon, her agent. If Kerrigan can find the resources to overcome her legendary skittishness to do well at the Olympics, she might earn more than $10 million in contracts. She doesn't even have to win gold.
At the time of the attack, Kerrigan tearfully asked, "Why me?" Last week Harding may very well have been asking herself the same question.