Olympic Choreographer's Viral Jacket Trick: The Story Behind the Moment [2026]

The Moment Everything Changed: How a Jacket Became an Olympic Icon

There's a phenomenon that happens sometimes in sports when something so simple, so unexpectedly human, cuts through all the noise and becomes impossible to ignore. In early 2026, as the Milano Cortina Winter Olympics unfolded on ice rinks across Northern Italy, millions of viewers found themselves fixated on something nobody expected to be interesting: a man changing jackets.

Benoît Richaud, a French figure skating choreographer, wasn't trying to go viral. He wasn't performing for the cameras or working some calculated publicity angle. He was simply doing his job, which happened to be one of the most emotionally exhausting and logistically complex roles in elite sports. Yet somehow, his quiet, methodical ritual of switching between team jackets as he moved between skaters became the unexpected symbol of the 2026 Winter Games.

What started as a few scattered social media posts about "that bald guy in all the team jackets" exploded into a full-blown phenomenon. Videos of Richaud appeared on TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, and every platform in between. Memes followed. Fan accounts were created. People who've never watched figure skating suddenly cared deeply about this one man's jacket-changing routine. But the story behind the virality is far more interesting than the virality itself.

This is the story of what it actually takes to coach at the Olympic level, the invisible pressures that exist behind every medal moment, and how one man's dedication to 16 athletes from across the globe revealed something fundamental about the modern Olympic Games. It's also a story about how authenticity, in its rawest form, still has the power to captivate us in an age of manufactured content and carefully curated narratives.

The Logistics of Coaching an International Dynasty

When you first hear that Richaud is coaching 16 figure skaters from 13 different countries, the immediate thought is simple: How? The logistics alone seem impossible. Athletes come from Canada, Japan, Italy, China, South Korea, France, and other nations. Each one has their own schedule, their own technical needs, their own personal goals and anxieties. Each one qualified for the Olympics, which means each one is among the absolute elite figure skaters in the world.

Richaud isn't working with emerging talent or developmental skaters. These are the people who have already proven they belong on the world's biggest stage. They've competed at World Championships. They've survived the ruthless qualifying process. They've trained for years, sometimes decades, for this single moment. And now they all needed him.

The reality is that Richaud's 16 competing skaters are only a fraction of his total coaching load. When he tells interviews that he coaches "a lot more" athletes than the 16 who made it to Milano Cortina, he means dozens more who are currently training with him at various stages of their careers. Some are preparing for future Olympics. Some are working toward World Championships. Some are just starting their senior careers. The total number of athletes depending on Richaud's expertise, guidance, and choreography probably exceeds 40 or 50 people across multiple continents.

This level of scale is almost impossible to fathom. Most elite coaches have geographic limitations. They work primarily with skaters in their home country or a specific region. They can see their athletes regularly. They can fine-tune programs in person, work on specific technical elements, and build the kind of close relationships that typically develop between coach and student over months and years of daily training.

Richaud's model is fundamentally different. He's created something closer to a global choreography network. He works with skaters he may only see in person a few times per year. The rest of the time, he relies on technology, communication, and an incredibly detailed understanding of each skater's technical abilities and artistic vision.

Benoît Richaud coaches 16 skaters from 13 countries at the 2026 Olympics, with a diverse distribution across nations. Estimated data.

The Timeline: When Choreography Gets Created

To understand how Richaud manages this seemingly impossible workload, it helps to understand the actual calendar of professional figure skating. The sport operates on a very specific timeline, and knowing this schedule is essential to understanding how he creates choreography for dozens of athletes across the world.

The World Championships typically happen in March. This is the major competition that happens roughly midway between Olympic Games. For most skaters, this is their biggest competition of the season. For Richaud, it's also his signal that choreography season is about to begin.

After the World Championships end in March, Richaud enters what he calls his "big window." From April through July, he has dedicated time to create new programs for the upcoming season. This is his intensive creative period. He's not traveling constantly to competitions. He's not managing crisis situations with injured skaters or last-minute technical changes. He's in his creative mode, designing and choreographing programs.

This roughly four-month window is crucial. Figure skating programs—both the short program and the free program—need to be completely new every season. They can't be recycled from previous years. The rules of the sport require innovation. Skaters, judges, and audiences all expect to see fresh choreography that showcases both technical difficulty and artistic merit.

During these four months, Richaud creates programs for dozens of skaters. He's thinking about music selection, about which elements will showcase each skater's strengths, about pacing and narrative and the emotional arc of a program that will last anywhere from 2 minutes to 4 minutes on ice. He's considering what technical content each skater can realistically execute while maintaining the artistic integrity of the program.

Once July arrives and the summer ends, the competitive season begins. Skaters start traveling to competitions. The calendar becomes unpredictable. Richaud shifts into management mode. He's handling program updates, addressing technical issues that emerge during competition, managing the emotional aftermath of results, and doing whatever adjustments become necessary.

Then comes the Olympics, which represent the absolute peak of pressure and visibility. This is when all the choreography work, all the planning, all the artistic vision gets executed under the most intense spotlight imaginable.

Video conferencing and cloud storage are crucial in Richaud's coaching model, each accounting for a significant portion of technology usage. Estimated data.

The Technology That Makes Global Coaching Possible

What makes Richaud's global coaching model actually functional is technology. Without it, his system would collapse immediately. But with modern smartphones, video conferencing, cloud storage, and high-speed internet, he can manage relationships with skaters across continents.

According to Richaud himself, he receives video updates from almost all of his skaters every single day. These aren't casual check-ins. They're detailed recordings of skaters working through their programs, practicing specific elements, or showing how they're implementing feedback from previous sessions. Richaud watches these videos, takes notes, identifies what needs adjustment, and communicates back with detailed feedback.

This creates a feedback loop that operates asynchronously. A skater in Japan can send a video of their program. Richaud can watch it the same day and send back detailed notes about pacing, musicality, or specific choreographic adjustments. The skater can then implement those notes in their next training session. By the time they send the next video, they're incorporating his feedback from the previous day. It's incredibly efficient.

The technology also solves a practical problem: memory. Richaud has dozens of programs to manage. Each one is different. Each one has specific choreographic details that matter. Watching video updates from each skater every day means he's staying current with what they're actually executing, not relying on memory or notes from weeks or months ago.

When he's tracking 16 Olympic programs alone—plus potentially dozens of other programs for non-Olympic skaters—this constant video feedback becomes essential. It's the only way to maintain quality and consistency across such a large roster.

The other technology piece is communication tools like video calls, messaging apps, and email. When Richaud needs to do a deeper consultation with a skater, they can get on a call and work through specific sections of their program. A skater in South Korea can show Richaud exactly what they're struggling with, and he can provide real-time guidance. This isn't as good as being there in person, but it's remarkably close.

Richaud himself expresses genuine excitement about this technology. "With the phone and new technologies, we can do much more and do it much faster," he says. For someone in his position, managing a global roster of elite athletes, technology isn't just helpful—it's transformative. It made his entire business model possible.

The Emotional Weight of Coaching Dozens of Olympians

Here's something nobody talks about when they discuss the Olympics: the emotional toll on coaches. We focus on athletes. We celebrate their victories and sympathize with their defeats. But the coaches, the support staff, the people who've spent years preparing these athletes—their emotional journey is intense and often invisible.

Richaud provided a rare window into this in his interviews around the 2026 Games. And what he described is something between a roller coaster and controlled chaos.

Imagine being present for the performance of 16 different skaters, across multiple days, in the most high-pressure competition of their lives. Your choreography, your artistic vision, your technical guidance—all of it is being executed and judged publicly. And you're responsible for 16 different versions of this scenario. One skater might perform perfectly and earn a medal. Another might make a single mistake that costs them a podium finish. A third might deliver the performance of their life but still finish outside the medals because the competition level is that high.

Richaud described experiencing this as "waves of very strong emotions." He gave a specific example: one of his skaters came to the Olympics as a third-place favorite but ended up finishing outside the medals. Meanwhile, a Canadian skater—in his first Olympics ever, who had never even competed at World Championships—skated so well that he nearly landed on the podium with a fifth-place finish, less than a single point from a bronze medal.

For most coaches, these would be separate emotional events spread across different days or weeks. For Richaud, they could happen within hours. Success and heartbreak running parallel. Athletes achieving their dreams while others face devastating disappointment. And he's emotionally invested in all of them equally, because each one gets 100 percent of his effort and attention.

Richaud explained this balance: "Each skater gets 100 percent. Being sad for one and happy for another balances your emotions." But describing it as "balanced" might be understating how intense the actual experience is. He also said, "There are times when I cry and times when I have so much joy inside that I have a hard time even controlling myself. You experience these emotional peaks that we all experience—only I experience them very quickly."

This is the reality of coaching at scale in elite sports. You're not just managing technical performance. You're managing the emotional weight of dozens of human beings at the absolute peak moment of their professional lives. That's exhausting in ways that are almost impossible to convey to people who haven't experienced it.

What's remarkable about Richaud is that he seems to have found a way to process this intensity without it breaking him. He acknowledges it. He doesn't try to hide it or pretend it's not difficult. He's present for it. And somehow, he keeps showing up for the next athlete, the next program, the next emotional peak.

Coaching Olympic athletes involves intense emotional experiences, with disappointment often hitting the hardest. (Estimated data)

The Jacket: From Practical Necessity to Cultural Moment

Now we arrive at the detail that made Richaud famous: the jackets. It's such a simple detail that it's almost hard to believe it became the defining image of the 2026 Olympics. Yet somehow, a man changing his jacket is what captured people's attention.

The jacket-wearing habit came from a practical need. In figure skating, there's a specific area called the "kiss and cry." This is where skaters go immediately after their performance to wait for their scores. It's typically a small seating area right next to the ice. Family members, coaches, and support staff are there. It's an intense moment. The skater is on an adrenaline high, they're anxious about how they performed, and they're waiting to see how the judges scored their program.

For coaches, the kiss and cry is where you're visible to cameras and spectators. You're the adult in that moment with the athlete. Your reaction matters. You're either the person who hugs them after a great skate or comforts them after a disappointing one.

When you're coaching 16 different skaters from 16 different nations, the question becomes: what do you wear to the kiss and cry? Richaud's solution was simple and elegant: he wears the jacket of each athlete's nation. When his Japanese skater performs, he's wearing a Japanese team jacket. When his Canadian athlete skates, he's in a Canadian jacket. When his Italian athlete performs in their home country, he's wearing Italian team colors.

It's a gesture of solidarity. It says, "I'm with you. I'm representing your country in this moment. You're not alone." It's also practical—it makes it clear to spectators which coach is with which athlete. But it has an additional effect: it shows that Richaud's allegiance is to the athlete and the nation they represent, not to himself.

During the first few days of competition at Milano Cortina, observant viewers started noticing the pattern. Same coach. Different jacket every time. The bald, bearded French man who appeared to have divided loyalties. At first, it was just people commenting in comment sections and group chats. Then it became actual content. People started making videos of just these transitions—Richaud switching from one jacket to another between skaters.

The videos were funny in a way that was hard to articulate. There was something absurdist about it. Something genuinely human about watching someone be present for so many different people, so many different nations, with such consistency and dedication. The humor wasn't mean-spirited. It was affectionate. People were amused by the dedication and moved by the principle behind it.

Richaud's response to his own virality is telling. He saw the first video and thought it was funny. Then he saw more. And more. Soon videos were coming to him from around the world, often without even mentioning his name—just people being delighted by this one guy and his jackets. His reaction wasn't to lean into it or to try to monetize it or to become cynical about it. He was genuinely appreciative. "It's a good and fun feeling, and I'm happy for skating," he said.

He recognized that his unexpected fame was an opportunity for the sport itself. Figure skating has struggled with visibility and popularity compared to other Olympic sports. The jacket videos were bringing attention to the sport. People who normally wouldn't pay attention to figure skating were watching, talking, sharing, engaging. And even though the immediate topic was Richaud's jacket choices, it meant people were now thinking about figure skating.

Figure Skating's Visibility Problem and Social Media's Solution

Richaud made a crucial point in his interviews: figure skating isn't as popular on social media as it could be. This is an interesting observation coming from someone who just became a social media sensation, partly because of his jacket choices.

Figure skating has a deep, passionate fan base. But compared to sports like basketball, soccer, football, or even curling—which has experienced an unexpected surge in popularity—figure skating's social media presence is relatively limited. The sport is beautiful, technically complex, emotionally engaging, and entertaining. By almost every measure, it should be more popular than it currently is.

One reason for this is that figure skating performances are difficult to clip and share. A stunning basketball dunk takes three seconds. A beautiful figure skating program takes four minutes. Social media rewards short, immediately impactful content. A skater landing a quadruple jump is incredible, but you need context to understand why it's incredible. A dunk? Everybody understands a dunk in one second.

Figure skating also has a reputation problem online. The sport has been criticized for judging inconsistencies, for perceived biases toward certain countries or aesthetic styles, and for creating an environment that can be toxic toward athletes. These legitimate criticisms sometimes overshadow the actual beauty and athleticism of the sport.

But Richaud's jacket videos solved a problem that the sport has struggled to solve: they made figure skating relatable and funny and human in a way that didn't require deep knowledge of the sport. You didn't need to understand the technical content of a program to find something charming about a coach being so fully invested in so many different athletes from so many different countries.

The virality also had the effect of humanizing figure skating in a positive way. Instead of the typical conversations about judging controversies or athlete controversies, people were celebrating the dedication and humanity of a coach. It reframed the conversation around the sport in a surprisingly effective way.

This is actually a lesson for sports with visibility challenges: sometimes the most effective marketing is authenticity. Not a calculated campaign, not influencer partnerships, not manufactured narratives. Just a coach doing his job with genuine dedication, and letting that authenticity speak for itself.

Richaud said something particularly insightful: "Figure skating is one of the most beautiful sports in the world." And he meant it. This isn't a man being forced to promote his sport. He genuinely believes this. And his jacket choices, his emotional investment, his dedication to 16 different athletes from 13 different nations—all of it reflects that genuine passion.

Richaud's jacket changes were equally distributed among nations, symbolizing his solidarity with each athlete. Estimated data based on the context.

The Coaching Philosophy: Equal Investment Across Difference

One of the most interesting things about Richaud's approach is his refusal to pick favorites. When asked if having so many athletes means he must have favorites, he essentially said no. Each one gets 100 percent of his attention and effort. This sounds like something a coach might say in an interview when they're being diplomatic. But Richaud seems to actually mean it.

This philosophy has practical implications. In figure skating, different skaters have completely different technical abilities, different artistic styles, different nationalities, and different goals. A Japanese skater might prioritize elegance and precision. A North American skater might emphasize jumping ability. A European skater might focus on artistic interpretation. Each one needs choreography tailored to their specific strengths and goals.

Richaud can't just create one generic program and apply it to 16 different skaters. Each program needs to be individual. Each one needs to reflect the athlete's personality, technical ability, and artistic vision. Creating this level of individualized work for 16 different athletes is itself a massive undertaking.

The fact that he claims to give each one equal energy suggests something interesting about his psychological approach. He's not ranking them mentally by expected medal potential. He's not investing more energy in skaters he thinks will win versus skaters who might struggle. He's investing equally because each athlete deserves that investment.

This becomes relevant when you consider the emotional outcomes he described. When one of his skaters finishes outside the medals or underperforms, and another skater exceeds expectations, the emotions balance out for him because he had equal investment in both. He's not devastated by one outcome and dismissive of another. He's able to feel the full range of emotions because they're spread across different athletes and different outcomes.

It's a philosophy that probably enables coaches to sustain high-performance work over decades without burning out. If you were investing unequally, favoring your medal contenders, you'd probably feel crushing despair when one of your top athletes underperformed. But if you're invested equally in everyone, success and disappointment are distributed more evenly.

This approach also creates something valuable for athletes. A skater working with Richaud knows they're not competing for his attention or coaching quality based on their likelihood to medal. They're getting his best work regardless of their ranking or their medal potential. That's probably deeply reassuring for athletes who are training for the Olympics.

The 2026 Milano Cortina Context: Geography, Competition, and Visibility

The timing and location of Richaud's virality matters. The 2026 Winter Olympics in Milano Cortina is the first Winter Olympics in Italy in a generation. It's a spectacular setting, with events spread across multiple beautiful venues in the Dolomites and urban areas of Milan.

The visibility of skiing events, ice hockey, and figure skating creates different dynamics. Figure skating, in particular, tends to draw significant television and streaming viewership during the Olympics, partly because it's more accessible to general audiences than some other winter sports. A general audience can appreciate beautiful skating without understanding the technical content.

Milano Cortina being in Italy also adds context to Richaud's story. He's coaching Italian athletes, but also athletes from 12 other nations. The home athletes in any Olympics get additional media coverage and support. But Richaud was visible and present for all his athletes equally, creating this interesting dynamic where a global coach was operating in a home-country setting.

The 2026 Olympics also happens in an era where social media is completely integrated into the Olympic experience. Viewers don't just watch events on traditional broadcast television. They're watching clips on TikTok, seeing reaction videos on YouTube, reading threads on Twitter/X, and engaging with community discussions on Reddit and Discord. The Olympics are fully social-media integrated now.

This means that something like Richaud's jacket changes, which might have gone relatively unnoticed in previous Olympics, had maximum visibility in 2026. A viewer watching a figure skating event could immediately clip the moment, share it, and it could reach millions of people within hours. Memes could be created instantly. Variations and mashups could emerge.

The 2026 Olympics also represented a moment where figure skating was receiving substantial attention. Social media had built significant figure skating communities, with skate fans organizing and supporting each other online. When content related to figure skating emerged, these existing communities were already there to amplify it.

So Richaud's virality wasn't just about him changing jackets. It was about the right moment, the right platform, the right intersection of an increasingly visible sport and a genuinely interesting human story converging into something that captured public attention in an unexpected way.

Figure skating has a lower social media presence compared to other sports like basketball and soccer, despite its passionate fan base and artistic appeal. Estimated data.

What Richaud's Success Reveals About Elite Sports Coaching

Beyond the viral moment and the jackets, Richaud's role as a coach reveals something important about how elite sports have evolved. The coaching profession in Olympic-level sports has become increasingly specialized, increasingly global, and increasingly technology-dependent.

Traditionally, coaches worked with athletes primarily in person. They were based in the same city or country. They had day-to-day contact with their athletes. They could watch training sessions live, provide immediate feedback, and build the kind of relationship that develops through consistent physical presence.

But the modern Olympics has created something different. The global talent pool for competitive sports has expanded dramatically. Athletes are being recruited and trained across borders. Coaching expertise is no longer geographically limited. A British skater might train with a Russian coach who specializes in specific techniques. An American skater might fly to Canada for specialized training with a particular coach. A Japanese skater might work with a French choreographer who creates programs remotely.

This globalization creates opportunities but also challenges. How do you maintain quality when you're working across time zones, languages, and cultures? How do you build relationships with athletes you might see in person only a few times per year? How do you create innovation when you're managing such a large roster that you're constantly in crisis management mode?

Richaud's model suggests some answers. Technology handles some of the distance. Clear communication and defined processes handle the rest. And genuine passion for the work, combined with a philosophy of equal investment in all athletes, seems to handle the emotional complexity.

What's also significant is that Richaud has achieved this level of success and visibility without abandoning his core work. He's not a celebrity coach using his platform for endorsement deals or personal brand building. He's a working coach who happens to have become famous because of his dedication to his job.

This matters because it shows that visibility and success don't require compromising your work. Sometimes they happen as a byproduct of doing excellent work with genuine commitment. Richaud didn't set out to go viral. He set out to choreograph programs for 16 different Olympic athletes, and in doing so, he created a moment that captured people's attention in an unexpected way.

The Broader Impact: How Individual Stories Shape the Olympic Narrative

One thing the Richaud story demonstrates is that the Olympic narrative is shaped not just by medal winners and record breakers, but by unexpected human moments that capture people's imaginations. We tend to think of Olympic stories as being about triumph and defeat, records and failures. But sometimes the most memorable Olympic stories are about something much smaller and more human.

Richaud's jackets became a symbol of something larger: the dedication of support staff, the complexity of coaching in a globalized sport, the beauty of being present for multiple athletes' journeys simultaneously. The jacket changes were just the visual manifestation of something deeper.

This has implications for how we think about Olympic coverage and Olympic stories. The mainstream sports media will cover the medalists, the record breakers, the dramatic defeats. But social media often finds the human moments that traditional media misses. A coach's dedication. An athlete's emotional journey. The behind-the-scenes reality of what Olympic competition actually involves.

Richaud became famous on social media, not traditional sports media, because his story resonated with how social media users think about authenticity and dedication. His jacket changes were funny, but they were also genuinely moving. They showed someone being present, being invested, being human in a high-pressure situation.

This democratization of Olympic storytelling, where minor details and behind-the-scenes moments can become as famous as medal performances, might actually benefit the Olympics long-term. It humanizes the games. It shows the complexity and the emotional reality behind the performances. It creates moments that general audiences can relate to and share.

Richaud expressed gratitude for this, noting that it brings attention to figure skating, a sport he loves. But it also brings attention to something broader: the human reality of Olympic sport, which is often more interesting than the simplified narratives we typically consume.

Richaud's authenticity and viral moment significantly boosted public interest and media coverage in figure skating. (Estimated data)

The Season After Olympics: What's Next for Richaud and His Athletes

The 2026 Olympics represent a peak moment for Richaud, but they're not the end of the story. In fact, they're just one moment in an ongoing cycle of competition, coaching, program creation, and athlete development.

After the Olympics, the competitive calendar continues. The World Championships happen a couple of months after the Olympics. Skaters who didn't qualify for the Olympics have opportunities to compete. New skaters begin their senior careers. The cycle that Richaud manages continues.

For Richaud personally, the post-Olympic period will include some adjustments. He'll continue coaching his roster of athletes. Some skaters might retire after competing at the Olympics. New skaters might join his program. The dynamic will shift, but his basic model—creating choreography, managing a global roster, using technology to coach athletes across distances—will remain the same.

The viral moment will fade, as viral moments always do. But the attention to figure skating might have a longer-term impact. If people who discovered figure skating through Richaud's jacket videos continue to follow the sport, if they become fans who watch competitions and support athletes, then the moment had lasting value beyond the immediate viral spike.

For Richaud, the challenge will be continuing to do excellent work while being aware that he has a public profile now. Some coaches might change how they operate once they become famous. They might lean into the celebrity aspect or try to capitalize on their visibility. But Richaud seems like the type who will simply continue being a dedicated coach, and the fame will be incidental to that core work.

The legacy of 2026 for Richaud will probably be defined less by his virality and more by how his athletes performed and what programs they created together. That's where his real investment lies.

Lessons for Coaches, Athletes, and Sports Organizations

The Richaud story offers several lessons that extend beyond figure skating:

For Coaches: It's possible to build a successful, globally-scaled coaching practice by combining traditional coaching principles (equal investment, attention to individual needs, genuine passion for the work) with modern technology. Remote coaching doesn't mean worse coaching—it means different coaching, which requires adaptation but can be highly effective.

For Athletes: Having a coach who's invested equally in multiple athletes, rather than focused on a single star, might actually be advantageous. It removes the pressure of being "the chosen one" and creates an environment where everyone gets excellent coaching.

For Sports Organizations: Visibility and engagement with general audiences can come from unexpected places. The most effective promotion might not be calculated campaigns, but rather allowing authentic human moments to emerge and be shared naturally through social media.

For Sports Management: The future of elite sports is increasingly global, increasingly technology-enabled, and increasingly about managing complex networks of athletes, coaches, and support staff across borders. Organizations that adapt to this reality quickly will have competitive advantages.

For Anyone Managing Multiple People or Projects: Richaud's philosophy of equal investment in everyone, despite different circumstances and outcomes, is a powerful management principle. It prevents burnout, maintains quality, and creates an environment where everyone feels valued.

The Broader Olympic Story: Beyond Medals and Records

Ultimately, the Richaud story is interesting because it shifts the focus from the traditional Olympic narrative of competition and winning to the human reality of Olympic sport. We celebrate athletes, but the people behind athletes—coaches, choreographers, trainers, nutritionists, psychologists—often work with equal dedication for less recognition.

Richaud became famous not because he won medals (he doesn't compete himself) or because he achieved some landmark accomplishment, but because his dedication and his presence became visible. The jacket changes made visible something that's usually invisible: the emotional labor of supporting athletes at the highest level.

This visibility is valuable for the sport of figure skating, for understanding what elite coaching actually involves, and for appreciating the human complexity of Olympic competition. The Olympics are often presented as a competition between nations, or between individual athletes. But they're also a complex ecosystem of coaches, support staff, and professionals all working toward the same goal.

Richaud, through his unexpected virality, helped illuminate that ecosystem in a way that traditional Olympic coverage typically doesn't. And in doing so, he might have actually done more for the long-term visibility and appreciation of figure skating than any medal performance could have accomplished.

The fact that he did this not by trying to become famous, but by simply doing his job with genuine dedication, says something important about authenticity in the age of social media. Sometimes the most powerful moments are the ones that aren't performed. They're the ones that emerge naturally from people doing work they believe in, with commitment and presence and genuine care for the people they're working with.

FAQ

What is Benoît Richaud's role at the Olympics?

Benoît Richaud is a French figure skating choreographer who coaches 16 competitive figure skaters from 13 different countries at the 2026 Milano Cortina Winter Olympics. He creates choreography for their programs and provides coaching and technical guidance. His role extends beyond the Olympics—he coaches many more athletes who compete at other levels throughout the year, making him one of the most sought-after coaches in the sport.

Why did Richaud's jacket-changing ritual go viral?

Richaud became famous for wearing the team jacket of each athlete he was coaching during their performances and scores announcements in the "kiss and cry" area. Viewers noticed that the same coach appeared with many different skaters, each time wearing a different national team jacket. This created a visually interesting and touching pattern that captured people's attention on social media. Videos of these jacket changes were shared millions of times across TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, and other platforms, becoming an unexpected cultural moment of the 2026 Olympics.

How does Richaud manage coaching 16 Olympic athletes plus dozens more around the world?

Richaud uses technology extensively to manage his global roster. He receives video updates from nearly all of his athletes daily, allowing him to monitor their progress and provide detailed feedback asynchronously. He works on a structured calendar, using the period from April to July after the World Championships to intensively create new programs. The rest of the year involves managing competitions, making adjustments, and supporting athletes through the competitive season. This technology-enabled model allows him to maintain quality coaching across geographic distances and time zones.

What is the "kiss and cry" in figure skating?

The "kiss and cry" is the area immediately adjacent to the skating rink where athletes go after their performance to wait for their judges' scores. It's typically a small seating area with family, coaches, and support staff. The name comes from the fact that this is where emotional reactions happen—both the celebration of good performances and the disappointment of poor ones. It's captured by television cameras and broadcast live, making it an emotionally raw and public moment in the sport.

How does Richaud create individual programs for so many different skaters?

Each skater's program is completely customized based on their technical abilities, artistic style, and goals. Richaud considers each athlete's strengths and creates choreography that showcases those strengths while maintaining artistic integrity. He works with skaters from different countries and different athletic styles, meaning he needs to think about what will work specifically for a Japanese skater versus a North American skater versus a European skater. Every program is unique because every athlete is unique.

What does Richaud say about coaching so many athletes at the Olympics?

Richaud describes the experience as experiencing "waves of very strong emotions." He explains that because he has equal investment in all his athletes, success and disappointment are distributed across different competitions and different athletes. He gave examples of one athlete finishing outside the medals while another exceeded expectations and nearly medaled. He says there are times when he cries and times when he has so much joy that he can barely contain it. He experiences the emotional peaks that all coaches experience, but he experiences them very quickly because he has so many athletes competing.

Why is figure skating less popular on social media than other Olympic sports?

Figure skating programs last 2-4 minutes, making them difficult to clip and share on social media, which rewards short, immediately impactful content. A dunk takes three seconds and everyone understands it. A beautiful skating program requires context. Additionally, figure skating has faced criticism for judging inconsistencies and other controversies that can overshadow the actual athleticism and artistry of the sport. Richaud's viral moment was valuable partly because it made figure skating relatable and human without requiring deep knowledge of the sport.

What can other coaches learn from Richaud's coaching model?

Richaud's approach demonstrates that it's possible to scale elite coaching across multiple athletes using technology, clear communication, and genuine dedication to each athlete's success. His philosophy of equal investment in all athletes—regardless of their medal potential—seems to help him manage the emotional intensity of coaching at the highest level. He shows that visibility and authenticity can emerge naturally from doing excellent work, rather than from calculated personal branding or marketing campaigns.

How does the Olympic calendar structure Richaud's coaching year?

The World Championships in March signal the end of one competitive season and the beginning of the choreography creation period. From April to July, Richaud intensively creates new programs for all his athletes, because programs must be completely new each season. Once July ends and the competitive season begins, his focus shifts to managing competitions, making adjustments, and supporting athletes emotionally through the season. The Olympics represent the absolute peak of pressure and visibility, where all the choreography work is executed under maximum scrutiny.

Conclusion: When Authenticity Becomes the Story

In an age of manufactured content and calculated personal brands, Benoît Richaud's unexpected virality during the 2026 Milano Cortina Winter Olympics feels almost revolutionary in its simplicity. He didn't set out to become an internet sensation. He didn't hire a publicist or plan a social media campaign. He simply showed up, changed his jacket 16 times, and let his dedication to his athletes speak for itself.

What makes this moment resonate is that it captures something real about elite sports that usually stays hidden. It shows the invisible labor of coaches, the emotional intensity of supporting athletes at the highest level, and the complex global network of professionals that makes Olympic sport possible. It reveals that one person can be deeply invested in multiple athletes from multiple nations, treating each one with equal commitment and care.

The virality had a beneficial side effect for figure skating, bringing visibility to a sport that Richaud genuinely loves and believes deserves more attention. "Figure skating is one of the most beautiful sports in the world," he said, and his jacket changes, his presence, his emotional engagement all reflected that belief.

For the athletes Richaud coached, they had access to one of the sport's most respected choreographers and coaches, someone who was fully present for their journey despite coaching dozens of others simultaneously. They each received 100 percent of his attention and expertise. They each had their own unique program created specifically for their strengths and goals. And they each knew they had a coach who was genuinely invested in their success.

The jacket changes themselves are actually a perfect symbol for what Richaud does. He shifts. He adapts. He's present for whoever needs him. He represents each athlete's nation and identity while maintaining his own integrity and consistency. He shows that being invested in multiple people doesn't mean dividing your commitment—it means distributing your presence thoughtfully across different relationships.

As social media moves on to the next viral moment, as the 2026 Olympics fade into history, Richaud will probably return to being a respected coach who most casual sports fans have never heard of. But for the athletes who work with him, and for the people who caught even a glimpse of his jacket-changing routine, he's become something more: a symbol of dedication, authenticity, and what it means to show up fully for the people who depend on you.

That's the real story here. Not the jackets themselves, but what they represent. Not the viral moment, but the genuine human commitment that sparked it. Not the internet fame, but the quiet excellence that made the fame possible.

In an Olympic moment defined by global scale, by technology, by complex networks of people working across borders, Richaud's story reminds us that the most powerful element is still human presence. Being there. Showing up. Being fully invested in each person, each performance, each moment. That's what went viral, and that's what will last long after the videos disappear from social media feeds.

Key Takeaways

• Benoît Richaud coaches 16 Olympic figure skaters from 13 countries, making him one of the most visible coaches at the 2026 Winter Olympics through his jacket-changing ritual
• His global coaching model uses daily video updates and asynchronous feedback to manage 40+ total athletes across multiple continents, making remote coaching both effective and scalable
• Richaud's unexpected virality demonstrated how authentic dedication and human presence resonates more powerfully on social media than calculated campaigns
• Figure skating coaching at elite level involves intense emotional labor, with coaches experiencing waves of strong emotions across multiple athletes' performances simultaneously
• The jacket changes became a cultural symbol bringing visibility to figure skating, illustrating how organic social media moments can achieve more marketing impact than traditional sports promotion

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