Wednesday, February 10, 2010

“Vonn’s at Ease, but Never Far From the Edge - New York Times” plus 3 more


Vonn’s at Ease, but Never Far From the Edge - New York Times

Posted: 10 Feb 2010 10:39 PM PST

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Lindsey Vonn, the defending World Cup ski champion and multiple Olympic medal favorite, tried other sports as a child. Figure skating was a struggle, and she was not very accomplished at gymnastics, either.

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Vonn, who says she is a klutz off her skis, is the defending World Cup champion.

"It's definitely weird to have your face everywhere, but I'm as prepared for it as I can be," said Lindsey Vonn, the favorite in the Olympic downhill, super-G and super-combined.

"The worst was soccer," Vonn said with a laugh in an interview late last year. "My mom finally made me quit because I kept kicking the ball in my own team's goal. Ask anybody who knows me, I'm kind of a klutz off my skis."

Vonn was walking from a coffee shop in Vail, Colo., as she spoke.

"I'm dead serious," she said. "Just doing something like this — stepping off a curb — my coaches worry that some day I'm going to trip and break something."

Truth be told, she was not all that good on skis at first. Her youth coach in Minnesota, the Austrian-born Erich Sailer, said of Vonn's earliest races, "You could walk faster than she skied."

But that changed quickly. Like many a prodigy, Vonn soon exhibited an indefinable gift, a oneness with the snow. She easily won race after race, and when she advanced to steeper courses, she maintained a cool, graceful style and won by bigger margins. She was confident soaring in the air, usually a daunting experience for a child. As the challenges and the mountains got bigger, when other junior skiers would instinctually hesitate, Vonn would charge.

Not much had changed by the time she joined the United States ski team as a teenager.

"I remember in her first year with the team, I was standing with Bode Miller next to a course at Mammoth Mountain, and she came flying by and I said, 'Who is that?' " Daron Rahlves, a former American downhill great said, recalling a training camp in California in 2001. "And Bode said, 'I don't know, but she's the only girl trying to take the same line down the mountain that we are.' "

Rahlves laughed.

"I watch her now and I see the same thing," he said. "She skis like a guy. Always attacking."

According to the coaches who have tutored her throughout her career, Vonn's inherent talent was always accompanied by a herculean work ethic.

"Up and down the mountain, day after day — nights, weekends, holidays — Lindsey was always there and she never complained," Sailer said. "She would go until we turned off the lights at night."

When Vonn was 11, she began training at Ski Club Vail, an elite snow sports academy. One of her coaches there, John Cole, said that at first, he would sometimes lose track of her.

"We would be inside with the other kids because it was cold, raining or it was lunchtime, and somebody would say, 'Where's Lindsey?' " Cole said. "And you know what? We learned to look back up the hill because she had stayed out there and was taking more runs through the race course."

Though she is now 25 and one of the signature American athletes heading into the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, she still pushes just as hard — perhaps too hard sometimes. Vonn revealed Wednesday that she had sustained a leg injury last week during training.

"If you want to know why Lindsey is so good, go to the gym 90 minutes before the rest of the team is scheduled to start working out," said Jim Tracy, a coach for the United States team. "Lindsey will already be there."

Vonn has a limited number of serious pursuits, but she tends to approach each with similar determination. She spent at least half the year racing in Europe, and it frustrated her that she could not communicate more adeptly. So she learned German, and not just a little bit. When Vail Resorts was negotiating to become a major sponsor of Vonn's, the corporation's chief executive, Rob Katz, happened upon a YouTube clip of Vonn on a German television talk show.

"It was a David Letterman-type show, and there was Lindsey cracking jokes and making repartee with the host in German," Katz said. "I was blown away that she had taught herself that well. She's focused, genuine and does things in a way that people admire. When you're going to link yourself to an athlete, you are looking for Derek Jeter. We got ski racing's Derek Jeter."

Vonn, if healthy, is the favorite in the Olympic downhill, super-G and super combined, which is one run of slalom combined with one run of downhill. She will be a more distant medal contender in her other events, slalom and giant slalom. Counseled by her husband, the former Olympic skier Thomas Vonn, who also acts as an adviser and coach, Lindsey has tried to normalize the situation she faces in Vancouver.

"It's definitely weird to have your face everywhere, but I'm as prepared for it as I can be," she said. "I have worked very hard, and I've always wanted an Olympic medal. Everyone should know that I will try my best."

And then, when the Olympics are over, Vonn could achieve the second biggest goal in her life: appearing in an episode of television's "Law & Order."

"I am obsessed with the show," she said. "I'll play a stiff on a mortuary slab, I don't care. Or I could be a bystander on the street, someone who points and says, 'They went that way.' I could do that. I don't know if they want me running somewhere or doing anything athletic, but I could stand still and do something. I'd be good at that. I really would."

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Check back often as this page will be updated through the Olympics ... - Eagle-Tribune

Posted: 10 Feb 2010 09:56 PM PST

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Check back often as this page will be updated through the Olympics. Features to look for soon:

  • Daily TV schedule: Find out when your favorite events are on

  • Medal Count

  • Quote of the Day

Featured now:

A look at speedskating, luge and curling



A look at some of the lesser-known
sports of the Winter Games

Twice, I showed up as scheduled. Twice, I competed against myself. And I still finished second — you guessed it — twice.

The 2010 Bill Burt Olympics began with hope, dreams and enthusiasm, not to mention a wing and prayer. The idea was to participate in three of those lesser known Winter Olympic events that we only see and hear about every four years.

There was only one caveat — figure skating was not an option.

Curling was the first and most obvious choice.

It's not only a relatively new Winter Olympic sport, but I had heard about a local curling facility in Nashua, N.H. And the 2006 World Championships were held right around the corner, at Tsongas Arena in Lowell.

While I didn't admit this to any of my buddies, I believe I watched as much curling in the last Winter Olympics as I did any other event. So this was a no-brainer.

The second event was going to be the biathlon. That's cross country skiing and shooting... with a rifle.

But there were a couple of problems with this one. First, I hate guns. I REALLY hate guns. When I've gone to paintball events in the past, my secret is to hide for as long as possible until somebody finds me and shoots me.

The other problem was finding a location. Presque Isle, Maine, which is about a nine-hour drive from the Merrimack Valley, is the hot-bed for East Coast biathlon wannabes.

Well, unless it's a Super Bowl in New Orleans, I'm not spending nine hours traveling. So this eventually turned into a no-go.

The third event was the luge.

I've always loved the luge and even thought I could do it. I like speed. I like sledding. And I love water slides, where I've mimicked the luge while going down. I swear that my thick body is made for sports related to gravitational pull.

But again, the location was a problem. The closest luge facility is in Lake Placid, N.Y. I just didn't have it in me accept an invitation from the Adirondack Luge Club — "We'd love to have you," one member stated &mash which rents space on the famed luge facility on Saturday nights.

My last option was short-track speedskating. Not only have I enjoyed watching this crazy event, but I was a decent skater as a boy growing up in Quincy. I loved swimming on frozen ponds, and I had decent speed... with an emphasis on "had."

This could be fun. Even better, there was a rink in Walpole (Iorio Arena) that offered time to the Bay State Speedskating Club three times a week.

One phone call later, I was in.

So the Burt Olympics and its two measly events were set — curling and short-track speedskating.

First came curling.

I went to the three-sheet facility at Nashua Country Club and was impressed. Not only was there a bar, but the playing area was pristine. Three high-definition televisions showed the target area farthest from the sitting area so they could see the "stones."

While I got my lesson, an hour before the weekly matches were to begin, the members started rolling in. I expected about six or eight people. Instead, it was about 30. I had no idea there were that many people who even cared about curling.

What I learned about curling was two-fold. It's hard. And you have to be in shape to do it. Whether you're sweeping or throwing, it's anything but easy.

Balance, strength, touch and pressure — these people play to win! — are every bit as important here as they are on the golf course.

"If you're not in shape, you will struggle," said Leo Lambert, who not only is a member at Nashua CC Curling Club, but is also president of the Merrimack Valley Curling Club. "I know it doesn't look that way on TV, but there is so much strategy. It's easy to tell a good player. They can really think on the ice."

By the time I was done with my half-hour lesson, I felt worse than I did before I walked into the facility.

About 20 of the 30 people at the club were in their 60s. And they were serious.

They were very good at not only placing the 42-pound stone exactly where they had planned, but also at moving it anywhere from two inches to a foot over the last dozen feet. I was amazed.

I got accolades from my teachers as a "good" beginner. They were nice. I was a good sport and that's it.

But I had fun. And I realized this really is a skill and deserving of a spot in the Olympics.

Short-track speedskating was a different animal altogether.

I had visions of bruises, particularly on my thighs. That Dan Jansen advertisement where he falls on the ice hours after hearing about his sister's death during the 1984 Winter Olympics stuck in my head.

And then once I was dressed and ready to go on the ice, I was handed some sort of towel-like material to put around my neck.

"Just in case you catch a blade," said a 10-year-old boy named Alex, "you want to have protection."

It was official. I was scared.

I had come to realize that this was serious and fast racing. And the clock doesn't matter. You race among three or four competitors.

I started slowly and had the support of the dozen or so speedskaters. There were two things I had trouble coming to grips with: One, the blades were too darn long, and two, you have to trust the edges of the skates when you make the sharp right turn at each end of the rink.

My 10-year-old friend, who looked like a mini-version of Apolo Ohno, the guy who basically put short-track speedskating on the map in America, offered his support.

"What time did you get on that last lap... 18.2 (seconds)?" he said. "I guess that's pretty good."

I asked him what his time was on his last lap. He smiled, "Oh, it was a lot faster than that."

By the end of the practice, I was beginning to get it a little bit, particularly making the turns and trusting the inside edges of the blade while leaning to my right.

My best lap was my last one, at 14.2 seconds. Everybody cheered. I honestly felt like a winner.

When the hour was up, I was beat. The bottom of my back was stiff. My thighs were quivering as I took off my Spiderman-like one-piece outfit. I sat there on the locker room bench wishing I was jumping into bed instead of my car for a 60-minute drive home.

"Tomorrow is when you'll really feel the pain," said coach Nate Bolton, as I carried my clothes toward the front door.

I smiled on the outside, but inside, I was crying.

While I enjoyed both sports, what struck me most about curling and speedskating were the people I met while participating.

I was struck by their generosity and the fact that neither group clamored for press coverage or free ads looking for new members.

They not only loved their sports, but they really appreciated a knucklehead like me giving it a try.

But I still have one lingering question after my personal Winter Olympic trials.

Where do I pick up my silver medals?

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Why the Winter Games Get a Chilly Reception - New York Times

Posted: 10 Feb 2010 10:39 PM PST

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VANCOUVER, British Columbia — Pssst.

Have you heard?

The Winter Olympics start Friday.

"There used to be such a huge buzz," Uschi Keszler, who competed in the 1964 Winter Games for West Germany and coached figure skaters in six subsequent Olympics, said last week at a rink in suburban Philadelphia. "Where is the buzz?"

I have been struck by how many acquaintances had no idea until recently that this was an Olympic year. The 2008 Beijing Games arrived with a siren's blare of anticipation; the Vancouver Games are being delivered like a note passed secretly around the classroom.

It raises the question: have the Winter Games outlived their usefulness, given the altered sports calendar, changing viewing habits and the fall of the Berlin Wall?

Has ski jumping jumped the shark?

In retrospect, it was a mistake to separate the Winter Olympics from the Summer Olympics, beginning in 1994. When they both occurred in the same calendar year, "it was like a year of sport every four years," said Keszler, who coached the Olympic medalists Brian Orser and Elvis Stojko.

The change was made so the Winter Games could breathe their own air, and so organizers could more easily raise corporate sponsorship money. It seemed a rational financial decision, but the outcome robbed the Olympics of perhaps their most attractive quality — novelty.

Now that a Winter or Summer Games arrives every two years, their freshness and feeling of uniqueness have gone the way of amateurism and compulsory school figures.

"I understand the logic behind it," said Robert Thompson, the founding director of the Bleier Center for Television and Popular Culture at Syracuse University. Yet, he added, "splitting those two has taken away the sort of monumental special nature of the whole thing."

The Vancouver Games face an additional burden, starting five days after the Super Bowl, risking that a football hangover could resist the Bloody Mary curative of the Olympics.

"You barely have time to digest the high-sodium, high-cholesterol snacks from the Super Bowl feast, and here comes the opening ceremony," Thompson said. "When two rituals fall close together, one always suffers. Christmas and New Year's are a week apart. The first of those got the better end of the deal."

In moving host cities to lower-lying urban areas like Turin, Italy, and now Vancouver, the International Olympic Committee risks holding a Winter Olympics with few signs of winter.

A temperate climate in Vancouver has already forced snow to be trucked in like spectators to freestyle skiing and snowboarding sites. Temperatures have reached the 50s in downtown Vancouver in recent days. Organizers may be forced to rename these the Early Spring Olympics. At least I.O.C. delegates should get to play their favorite sport — golf.

In fairness to the I.O.C. and to NBC, technology made the diminishment of the Winter Games inevitable. Once, any host network had a captive television audience for two weeks. Now that audience has been atomized by cable, satellite and Internet viewing habits. Consumers have grown impatient for results in real time, not necessarily prime time.

The Winter Olympics suffer more than the Summer Olympics because their main audience is more curious about than devoted to daring, unfamiliar activities like snowboard cross and luge. NBC is expected to lose $200 million to $250 million on the Vancouver Games.

Four years ago, the Turin Olympics on some nights lost in the ratings medal count to "American Idol" and "Desperate Housewives." A Winter Games in North America will allow NBC to broadcast live events in prime time; on the other hand, the two most important gold medals in Vancouver — women's figure skating and men's hockey — are not expected to be placed around the necks of athletes from the United States.

Still, for a couple of weeks, the snowboarder Shaun White and the skier Lindsey Vonn will give NBC cover from the late-night fiasco that was Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien — a knee-whacking that would make Tonya Harding proud. With the lift in ratings, the fourth-place network can win prime time, and women are certain to watch the Games in large numbers.

"It's not as though we've turned our backs completely," Thompson said. "I don't think we've suddenly found the Winter Olympics less interesting or relevant. The biggest thing is, there's so much other stuff to attract our attention. It's a wonder they're still doing as well as they are."

To its credit, the I.O.C. has sought a younger, hipper audience by adding sports like snowboarding and freestyle skiing. Yet these events seem tamer — or lamer — versions of the big-air wonder found in the Winter X Games on ESPN. Interviewing White last week, David Letterman lamented, "This is what the Olympics need more of."

It was a convenient shot at NBC, his former employer, but Letterman had a point. The halfpipe seems only half-radical beneath the Olympic rings, more permissible than renegade.

"I still think the Olympics holds a special place for me," said Casey Puckett, a former Olympic Alpine skier who is scheduled to compete for the United States in ski cross in Vancouver. "ESPN has a lot of freedom to do what they want. It is an experimental ground to try new things to get ratings and see what people are interested in. The Olympics is more traditional and set in its ways."

Once, cold war tensions gave us galvanizing moments like the 1980 Miracle on Ice, but that narrative crumbled with the Berlin Wall two decades ago. The United States' current political adversaries — Iran and North Korea — are not Olympic powers. Other threatening enemies are stateless, with no Taliban bobsledders or Qaeda biathletes to spur our nationalistic fervor.

So how to raise sagging interest?

Start by switching basketball to the Winter Olympics.

Who wouldn't love to see a triple Shaxel?

Matt Higgins contributed reporting.

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When going for the gold, miracles can happen - Lansing State Journal

Posted: 10 Feb 2010 09:28 PM PST

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