There is a fundamental difference between American Ballet Theatre and the New York City Ballet. Actually, there are a number of fundamental differences between ABT, launched in 1940, and NYCB, which took root in 1948 after many short-lived flowerings. These differences have been much explored through the decades: ABT’s big, old, storybook ballets versus NYCB’s swift and often experimental short stories; ABT’s glittering necklace of international styles versus NYCB’s pure pull from its own School of American Ballet; ABT’s eclectic approach, ballets from everywhere, versus NYCB’s auteur approach, George Balanchine’s eye as everything. What strikes me this season, however, is a very particular difference. At ABT a fall is a sign of weakness, while at NYCB it’s accepted as a measure of strength.

Dancers can fall—or falter—in many ways. They can slip on a too-slick floor. They can lose their center in a pirouette. For women, pointe work offers a whole other range of mishaps, including catches, sticks, skids, and turned ankles. A solo variation or a pas de deux requires dancers to be on, on, and on—a series of mind-body surges in a zone of synaptic transport, everything coming together at once, at once, at once. Think of Roger Federer on the tennis court, those leaps and vectors, angles and twirls—until his opponent misses. The elegance of impulse, the kinetic intuition, the body’s deeply schooled responses, a wisdom of the reflexes. This is dancing. Still, in tennis there