McKEE's McTHOUGHTS

By Published On: March 1st, 2006Comments Off on McKEE's McTHOUGHTS

McKEE’s McTHOUGHTSThe closing of an Olympics is always bitter-sweet.
The final athletic run has been completed, and most of us are just starting our last runs. The celebratory fireworks are waiting to be lit. The fatigue level is amazing. The knapsack, getting heavier it seems by the minute, has become an extension of the body, and there is still much to do.
The dash for home, kept securely pinned in the back of the mind has slipped its bonds and now pounds on the door of the conscious. ‘I’m thinkin’ about my doorbell, when ya gonna ring it?’ – White Stripe.
Soon, I suppose.
Much of what I am responsible for doing here after a race is pretty standard ‘on-site’ stuff. In my case, it’s pretty rote, without so much need for creativity – although, it being an Olympics tweaks things enough that the routine is out of kilter so it does need concentration, which is in short supply.
The final race, that men’s slalom we suggested watching, met all expectations. True, the U.S. guys who might have played well were derailed, so the dream I had of a second run battle between our guys evaporated. We weren’t the only ones. In fact, many skiers were derailed, including favorites from Finland, France – their best chance broke his arm before the race ever started – Italy and Japan. Waiting to take advantage – to no one’s surprise – were the Austrians.
The Oestreich swept the podium. That gave them a record 14 medals in the alpine events. Three more than the previous mark , which they and Switzerland shared.
Ski racing is part of the soul of every Austrian. It’s heritage. These guys work at it, no doubt, but there is more to it than that.
Slalom silver medalist Reinfried Herbst had been discarded by the Austrian team. At 27, after several changes of equipment – (This is a matter of some personal concern as I had his equipment listing completely wrong. For the record it’s Blizzard skis, Tecnica boots, Marker bindings, Leki poles and Uvex goggles) – he had fought his way back into the national team ranks.
That’s not an easy thing to do. The Austrian system found a way to give Herbst another chance. Before the beginning of this season he had three, rather unspectacular, World Cup scoring results.
Given opportunity, he latched on. He added six more World Cup placings this season in seven slalom starts, including a second in the heralded Hahnenkamm slalom in Kitzbuehel, Austria. That earned him his Olympic start, which led to his silver medal, which sent many scrambling for enough history on him to make themselves sound learned.
I was, and am, impressed the Austrian could find confidence in this ski racing journeyman and also have a 19 year old entered in the women’s GS. It is an organizational system which simply could not work in any other country in the world.
Long after the flowers and medals had been handed out, after the anthem had drifted into the night, I slowly trudged up the hill to my hotel. There was a sense of savoring the moment. It was a nice winter evening, and once to the road it is a pleasant enough walk. And there was a sense of accomplishment, of a job well done.
On the switchback, at the side of the road overlooking the whole of Sestriere, stood enough fireworks to do the Fourth of July over Boston harbor. I don’t know about you, but I don’t usually get to see that much undetonated fireworks up close. And being something of a pyromaniac, this sight gave me a smile I hadn’t known was festering behind the fatigue and the weight of the knapsack. Perhaps, I thought, this night would provide more than I had anticipated. Well of course it did.
Once at the hotel a couple of compatriots were enjoying a casual conversation, which I joined. Though I had, by this time, been thinking another early night would be advisable, it was not long after joining this table that I found myself in the shower preparing to go out on the town. Shortly thereafter, three of us walked into Austria House, their more or less public facility in Sestriere – (it helps if you know somebody).
It was, understandably, a happy atmosphere. All three medal winners were there with all five of the medals they had earned hanging around their necks. The community of Austrian skiing was in full force, as well as a moderate size group of journalists, a handful of TV crews, coaches, family, tech guys and on and on.
There was some drinking going on, and the joyous singing of songs. Kind of like camp songs it seemed to me, it had that comradely feel. And these athletes made the rounds – with a sort of wake created around them as so many people moved into position to get snapshots with camera, or cell-phones. By standing in one place, I was suddenly face to face with double gold medal winner Benjamin Raich. I congratulated him, patted him on the shoulder, and stepped aside before the wake hit me.
The fireworks I had walked past on the way up to my hotel, and rode past on the way back down into town, began bursting over the village. From Austria House they seemed particularly festive. Through the huge window I could see they exploded to enormous size and hear they ignited with volume. Few paid any particular attention. Fireworks could provide no distraction to what was happening inside.
A bit later in the evening – after the medal winners had moved on to other obligations and the cameras and cell-phones had been pocketed – I was consuming the single most tasty and tender piece of meat I have had here and happened into a conversation on ski racing with an Austrian coach.
Mind you most Austrians are ski coaches in some sense of the word. This guy still had his skis boots on, though it was now into the wee-hours, and he was having a hard time grasping the concept that any one who could ski fast would not choose to do all he could to maximize that ability.
And that pretty much hits the nail on the head. The Austrian culture insists on maximizing ski racing abilities. Insists its athletes come ready to play. They were allowed just four participants in the men’s slalom. One skied out, failed to finish the tough, tricky course. The other three got medals. That’s big time performance. On this day everything had worked their way.
Some time later, on my way back to the hotel, I ended up outside USA House. There was a line to get in the door. The place is a popular drinking establishment in its non-Olympic life and the time had passed when you needed a special pass to get in. It was now just a bar – a cellar bar – and folks wanted to wedge their way inside to be part of that scene.
It is a very different scene than that at Austria House where no fireworks can eclipse the celebration of successful ski racers, where some are still in their ski boots, where songs illustrate a unison of purpose. In that culture banished ski racers can work their way onto an Olympic team and teenagers can too. Something else was happening down in that cellar. I didn’t go see what.
There is a pounding. I’m going to go pack.

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About the Author: Pete Rugh