The U.S. luge team is raising money for the family of Nodar Kumaritashvili, the young slider from the Republic of Georgia who was killed in a training accident on Feb. 12, just hours before the Opening Ceremonies.

Tony Benshoof, the most decorated American singles slider, is auctioning off on eBay his Olympic speed suit, signed by all 10 members of the team.

Although the death stunned spectators and sent officials scrambling to cover their tracks, the memory wilted as quickly as the flowers at a makeshift memorial near the spot where Kumaritashvili died.

Not so within the tight-knit community of luge.

At Opening Ceremonies, American sliders wore a black ribbon on the collar of their jackets affixed by a Republic of Georgia Olympic pin.

Aussie slider Hannah Campbell-Pegg of Australia launched a similar auction, with the total approaching $2,000.

The U.S. auction can be accessed at: cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=290407657152

"I feel like it’s the least I can do," said Benshoof in a statement. "It’s a small contribution, but we hope to collect a fair amount of money for his family...Nodar’s memory hangs heavy and it’s the No. 1 topic of conversation. When I meet someone new and tell them what I do, that’s the next question."

Posted by Candus Thomson at 11:58 AM | Permalink
        

As we wind down the 21st Winter Olympics, the U.S. Olympic Committee passed along a piece of the blueprint for No. 22 and beyond:

An Olympic journey begins with a single step. It’s that first one toward a goal that’s the most important.

For every one of the medals earned by U.S. Olympians in Vancouver and Whistler, there was that first step on the frozen ponds of Minnesota, the ice sheets in Wisconsin, the rinks of Boston and the hills and jumps in Steamboat Springs.

They all asked those first questions about how to be an Olympian to a parent or a coach. How do I take that first step?

And the answers came.

“So you want to be a bobsledder, Steve? Do you know where Lake Placid is located?

“Well, Apolo, You want to learn how to skate? Vancouver is a pretty good place for a kid to learn.

“OK Lindsey, you might want to ski on that little hill in Minnesota?

“Shaun, you ought to learn how to spin around a couple of times, add a few twists and give it a good name, like the double MacTwist. Dude, that’d be Cool.”

After watching the Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver and Whistler and reading about the heroes on the ice and snow, millions of kids in living rooms and back yards around America are asking the same questions.

“How do I get involved? How can I get on the United States Olympic Team.”

If a soldier with six medals in the Army and a degenerative eye disease can pilot the USA bobsled to a gold medal in the Olympics, so can you.

If a young African-American skater from Chicago can win two gold medals in speedskating, you can too.

If a California skateboarder can be the best there has ever been in snowboarding, you can too.

You can be an Olympian. All it takes is a dream, some conviction ... and, most importantly, taking that first step.

And it doesn’t matter where you live. There are hockey players from Simi Valley, Calif., speedskaters from Miami and Houston, bobsledders from Georgia. All found their way to Vancouver and the Olympic Games.

In this case, that first step is a phone call or getting online and checking out a Web site.

The U.S. Olympic Committee is made up of a variety of organizations, including Olympic sports federations, also known as National Governing Bodies. There are eight of these for Olympic Winter Sports.

These federations would love to get those youngsters involved in their sports. But, first you have to ask.

For all those kids interested in becoming the next Shani, Apolo, Shaun, Lindsey, Bode or Steve, take the first step. Get on a Web site and find out how to get involved. Make a phone call, go to the library.

One day you could be on that podium. Or you could just have fun in your neighborhood. Either way, you’ll be a winner.

For that first step, pick a sport. Pick several sports and contact them. Here’s a list to help you get started:

U.S. Biathlon Association
49 Pineland Drive, suite 301A
New Gloucester, ME 04260
207 688-6500 or 1-800-242-8456
www.usbiathlon.org
US Biathlon@aol.com

U.S. Bobsled and Skeleton Federation
1631 Mesa Ave., Copper building
Colorado Springs, CO 80906
719 634-5186
www.usbsf.com
abird@usbsf.com

USA Curling
5525 Clem’s Way
Stevens Point, WI 55482
715 344-1199
Info@usacurl.org
www.usacurl.org

U.S. Figure Skating Association
20 First St.
Colorado Springs, CO 80906-3697
719 635-5200
info@usfigureskating.org
www.usfigureskating.org

USA Hockey
1775 Bob Johnson Dr.
Colorado Springs, CO 80906
719 576-8724
usah@usahockey.org
www.usahockey.com

U.S. Luge Association
57 Church St.
Lake Placid, NY 12946-1805
518 523-2071
info@usaluge.org
www.usaluge.org

U.S. Ski and Snowboard Association
1 Victory Lane, P.O. Box 100
Park City, UT 84060
435 649-9090
www.usskiteam.com
www.ussnowboarding.com
www.USAA.org

U.S. Speedskating
Utah Olympic Oval
5662 South Cougar Lane
P.O. Box 18370
Kearns, UT 84118
801 417-5360
www.speedskating.org
pkinder@usspeedskating.org

Posted by Candus Thomson at 11:30 AM | Permalink
        

Getting into a moving four-man bobsled is a trick even Houdini wouldn’t try.
Four guys straining to get 800-pounds of fiberglass and steel moving down a cement chute covered with ice, and then they all have to jump in before the sled noses into its one-mile plunge, with speeds reaching 95 mph.
When done right, it happens in less than five seconds.
When it goes wrong—as it nearly did for USA-3 Friday—it makes you hold your breath. Pusher Jamie Moriarty, the man right behind driver Mike Kohn, slipped and started falling head first into the sled. Adjusting on the fly, brakeman Nick Cunningham slid all the way to the back of the sled with his backend hanging off as Bill Schuffenhauer grabbed Moriarty to steady him and guide him into place.
Then there’s USA-2, with, perhaps, more human inside than any other sled.

Driver John Napier is 6-foot-3.
Behind him is pusher Chuck Berkeley, at 6-foot-5, the tallest U.S. Olympian.
In November, Napier, 23, and Berkeley, 33, teamed to win the World Cup two-man bobsled competition at Lake Placid, N.Y., so they obviously made close quarters work.
But when it comes to four-man--where sleds cannot exceed 12.5 feet in length--that doesn’t leave much room for Steve Langton (6-foot-1) and Chris Fogt (an even 6) to fold themselves in and duck down.
Napier jumps in first, scrunches himself tight under the cowling and grabs the D-rings, the steering mechanism.
Langton loads next, followed by Berkeley.
“What he has to do is grab his ankles and pull them close to him,” says Napier. “He kind of coils up like a spring and then he holds onto the handles.”
Fogt makes do with what’s left—with inches to spare in the back.
That takes care of the legs. The torsos of these athletes barely make it.
“It’s just wide enough for shoulders to squeeze in,” says Napier, laughing. “It’s a good thing we’re in speed suits. Our push times are great, but man, it’s a tight fit.”

Posted by Candus Thomson at 10:45 AM | Permalink
        

As inevitable as Yankees fans filling Camden Yards for a weekend series, so, too, is the catching of the Winter Olympics bug.

It happens. You have 10,000 sleep-deprived, badly nourished media types and 21 days of contact -- it's like a pool of gasoline waiting for a match.

I knew it was going to catch up with me when a Canadian journalist lumbered onto the media bus and made this public service announcement: "I've got the flu."

Everyone rolled their eyes. No one threw him into a snow bank.

That day, he was everywhere I was, interviewing athletes, pecking away at the keyboard just behind me, putting money into the Coke machine. He was even on the second media bus of the day.

The hammer fell less than 48 hours later.

Even though I had both flu shots, something was attacking me.
Wobbling around, I remembered the "Howdy-do" welcoming bag given to each of us by the Vancouver organizing committee. Rummaging through it (stale gum with a Maple Leaf on each tablet, a Snickers bar rebranded "Believe," a mouse pad, tourism junk) I found two cellophane wrapped boxes.
COLD-FX
Official Cold and Flu remedy of the 2010 Winter Games
Eureka!
And the wrapper had this assurance: Cold-FX is the only cold and flu remedy to have received the Certified for Sport designation from NSF International--a designation recognized by the World Anti-Doping Agency, the Canadian Center for Ethics in Sport and VANOC (the organizing committee)
The wrapper told me how great these pills were and it was signed by Dr. Jack Taunton, chief medical officer of VANOC.
Wow! What's in these miracle pills and why aren't they available back home?
It's ginseng, North American variety.
ABC News found that Cold-FX appeared to have some value, but it was tested on only 323 adults.
Still, the stuff is flying off the shelves here, and the company says it can't be bothered with the U.S. until it can meet Canadian demand.
I've gobbled a box and can report I still feel like every muscle in my body is in some Dark Ages torture device.
Maybe this stuff only works on Canadians.
So I am back to Sudafed, which contains pseudoephedrine, a substance that was added to WADA's list of banned substances on Jan. 1.
The crime? It's a stimulant that boosts performance.
I'm sure my bosses hope it kicks in before the Olympics ends.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 9:54 AM | Permalink
        

When this Olympics is over. When the cauldron goes dark and the world goes home. When the Canadians, drunk on their poor sportsmanship in the quest for gold, sober up.

When all this comes to pass, the host nation should do the honorable thing and blow up a part of its now infamous sliding track and start again.

The track, billed the fastest in the world, is a death trap at worst and an accident waiting to happen under the very best of circumstances.

In short, it has robbed three sports -- luge, bobsled and skeleton -- of their competitive joy.

All these athletes want to do is get to the bottom upright.

That's not sport.

The track has cranked up the macho level to where sane people won't say out loud the fears they are feeling. They pretend to the world that all is well. They use words like, "challenge" and
"fast" as code for what it's really like to try to negotiate three twitchy curves at more than 85 mph on a sheet of ice.

The Canadians, who have had a ton of runs on their home track while barring others from the same practice time, practically mock their guests and dismiss those who are struggled as "exotics."

Well, Wednesday night, Cathleen Martini crashed. The bobsled driver from Germany won five of eight World Cup races this year. Let the record show that off their home track, the Canadian women won zero.

Martini's mishap was NASCAR quality. The violence of the collision with an ice wall broke off a chunk of the sled and ejected her brakeman into the track.

The crash was so nasty that defending Olympic champion Sandra Kiriasis burst into tears.

Kiriasis is, by the way, German -- the dominant force in all sliding sports.

Martini knows about danger. Her long-time brakeman was killed in a 2004 training run while trying to learn how to pilot a sled just weeks after the two women placed fourth in the world championships.

Shuana Rohbock, the 2006 silver medalist, called the track "stupid fast."

Indeed.

Let's be clear here. There's a difference between a fast track and a technical track. A technical track makes you concentrate from first push until the brakeman pulls the handle at the end. It challenges a pilot's skills. A fast track is, well, just an iced-up cement chute that spits you out at the other end. It challenges a team's ability to hold on.

This stupid-fast track has made people stupid, too, in one case turning a coach against his athlete.

In withdrawing from the four-man competition that begins Friday, Dutch pilot Edwin van Calker said a "lack of confidence" in his ability to drive the course led to the decision.

Last year, van Calker had an accident that put two teammates -- one of them his brother -- in the hospital.

The Dutch withdrawal was one of three.

But what did van Calker's coach do? Ripped his guy to the press.

"I've never seen someone get to a major event and not compete because he's scared. You keep your inner fears to yourself and you do it," said Tom de LaHunty.

The coach said van Calker would regret the decision "for the rest of his life" and then outlined what would await van Calker when he returned home:

"They will be in for a lot of ridicule ... it's already started. 'Why did the chicken cross the bobsleigh track?' It's the end of [his] career."

Isn't that special and filled with Olympic spirit?

When this is all over Saturday and the winners crowned, the Canadians need to do the right thing and rebuild the dangerous section. If they won't do it, the international federations of the three sliding sports should make them do it and withhold any future World Cup events until they do.

Other tracks have been altered to make them better or safer.

Fans should be cheering because athletes have done a good job not because they've managed to avoid an ambulance ride.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 12:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)
        

A word about the photo on my Olympic credential.

Scary.

Or as my husband calls it, "Your Ma Barker look."

Like everyone else hoping to make Mother Tribune's Olympic team, I submitted a mug shot, the same one that decorates my Baltimore Police press ID.

Late last August, when it seemed as if I wouldn't be going to Vancouver, I took my heavy heart and a large amount of rum to Chappaquiddick, an island off the island of Martha's Vineyard, to fish and read with my husband.

It was there my fortunes changed and with it my ID photo.

An e-mail from Chicago informed me I would be winging my way to Vancouver in February.

A second e-mail told me that the photo that was acceptable for the Turin organizing committee and the Baltimore Police Department was not acceptable to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

"No teeth," advised Peggy Manter, my U.S. Olympic Committee spiritual guru. "No smile. No hint of a smile. No thought of a smile."

And then this from Chicago: "You have to get to a Kinkos and have a new photo shot and e-mailed by the end of the day."

An island off an island makes for great vacation photos. ID photos suitable for the Mounties, not so much.

Plus, did I mention the rum?

Our housemate, John, pulled the pale blue pillowcase off his pillow and with my husband held it over the refrigerator door. Our neighbor, Bev, played photographer.

"Serious."

"More serious."

"Perfect."

Snap.

The photo was e-mailed to Chicago, which e-mailed it to the Mounties, who must be using it for the mug shot book they show crime victims.

All I know is it gets me in and out of venues and the media centers without a full body cavity search.

One more thing: after two sleep-deprived weeks here, I actually look better than my photo.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 8:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
        

So "Own the Podium," the largest international Canadian effort since Guy Lombardo first played Auld Lange Syne in Times Square is just as dead as the musician.

After pumping $117 million into athlete training (nothing wrong with that) and promising to bring home -- wait they ARE home -- 27 medals, the residents of the Great White North are throwing in the great white towel.

"Woe Canada," was the headline in the Vancouver Sun.

For all their money and boasting, Canada has five gold medals -- 10 overall -- putting in the same ballpark as the mighty winter power South Korea.

The U.S. has 25 medals, seven of them gold. The salt-in-the-wound moment was U.S. men beating Canada's best in hockey. U.S. women are playing for the gold on Thursday against Canada.

"We'd be living in a fool's paradise if we said we're going to catch the Americans and win," said Chris Rudge, chief executive of the Canadian Olympic Committee.

Their house has become our house, and you know what Ray Lewis says about protecting that.

The last time the United States took home the most medals was at home in the 1932 Lake Placid Olympics. The team's highest take was 34 medals, again at home in the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City (Germany earned 46).

And the last time the U.S. team truly stunk? Why in Calgary in 1988, when the team earned just six medals.

So why the carnage?

The Olympic Committee says maybe their athletes were too pumped. Or maybe the partisan crowd was too partisan. Check out this quote in The Province newspaper:

"We've never seen anything like that and maybe we were ill prepared to how we would react to Canadian fans really showing their colors," said Nathalie Lambert, chef de mission of the Canadian Olympic team. "We've never seen this before."

The pressure to perform extended to luge -- LUGE -- when a businessman here promised to give the Canadian team $1 million for a gold medal. The athletes responded with a collective gag.

Canadian athletes are frazzled, some of them bursting into tears at their failure and apologizing for letting down their nation.

But maybe there's hope.

Whistler Village, scene of nightly outdoor parties last week, has all the zip of a retirement home these days. Bars are not packed. You don't have to wait two hours to get a $38 cheeseburger. It won't be long before the nightly head-banger concert is dialed down and headlined by Joni Mitchell and Gordon Lightfoot.

Just maybe with the volume turned down and the hype machine unplugged, the Canadians can get their bearings and end these games on a high note.

And just to be good guests, we should tiptoe out of town with our Olympic bling and save our chest-thumping theatrics until we're south of the border.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 10:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)
        

A man with a fistful of postcards and wearing an oversized red, foam cowboy hat tastefully decorated with a giant white USA on the side strides past the bus stop and toward the blue box on a curbside pole.
He's a man on a mission.
Coming from the other direction is a woman in a Canadian-red down parka, dog on a leash and a paper bag in her hand.
She's a woman on a mission.
He gets there first.
And stops. And looks. And looks again for the flap that reveals the slot into which he will put his slabs of cardboard.
He looks under the box. And behind the box. Then steps back.

The woman with the dog and the bag takes his place.
She reaches for the underside of the blue box and yanks.
Out comes a black plastic bag. In it goes the paper bag, then over to a trash barrel.
The man watches, laughs and tucks the postcards in his jacket.
Turning to the bus stop, he asks no one in particular: "Does anyone know where there's a mailbox? I thought I did. But I guess I don't."

Posted by Candus Thomson at 6:30 AM | Permalink
        

Katie Uhlaender would like to revise and extend her remarks in a previous post ("Katie lied?).

You know, the ones where she said "karma" of the bad kind, tied to the fatality and crashes at the Whistler sliding track, was responsible for the Canadians being without any medals to that point. And her complaints that USA Bobsled and Skeleton Federation didn't do much to support her in her quest for an Olympic medal in skeleton. She finished 11th.

She called me to ask for that courtesy. Members of Congress get to do it, why not an Olympic athlete, eh?

First, the revised part.

Uhlaender, the daughter of the late major league baseball player and coach Ted Uhlaender, said she has nothing but respect for the three competitors who reached the podium: winner Amy Williams of Great Britain, and Kerstin Szymkowiak and Anja Huber of Germany, the silver and bronze medalists.

And she expressed sympathy for Canada's Mellisa Hollingsworth, who plummeted from second place to fifth on her final run and then burst into tears and said she let her country down.

"She left it all out there. There's nothing dishonorable about that," Uhlaender said.

Then, Uhlaender offered an explanation for the "karma" crack.

"It was a lot of hype," she said about Whistler being the fastest and most dangerous track in the world. "It was too much, 'my podium' and 'our podium' from the Canadians."

And finally, Uhlaender extended her remarks about her federation.

"They invested everything that had in Noelle," she complained about Pikus-Pace, her teammate who finished fourth, just .10 second from the bronze medal.

"If they had invested in me what they invested in Noelle, they'd have a medal," Uhlaender said. "There's more than one person on the team."

There you have it. Katie Uhlaender, revised and extended.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 2:01 PM | Permalink
        

Last summer, when skeleton slider Katie Uhlaender met with the press in Chicago, she promised that her comeback from a devastating knee injury would not include excuses or complaining.

She said she would live with the outcome of the Olympics, whether or not it included a medal.

Now in the winter of her career, without a medal, Katie has some scores to settle.

The U.S. Bobsled and Skeleton Federation didn't do much to help her, she said.

She hinted that if things didn’t change, she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Honestly, this week was a complete disaster as far as organization and getting things done. I was up until 4 in the morning, trying to get video for the last day of training,” said Uhlaender, daughter of the late major league baseball player and coach Ted Uhlaender. “I’ll come back if we get our stuff together.”

And she really wanted to use another "s" word, she smirked.

She also said she didn't have enough time to heal from a serious snowmobile accident and subsequent complications last year.

"I fel like this whole season has been rushed," she said. "I was on crutches until September after shattering my knee cap for the second time."

Nobody forced Katie, 25, to ride that snowmobile the year before the event of her athletic career. And, darn, doesn't that sound like an excuse coming from Katie's lips?

For her summation, the slider with an attitude suggested that "karma," of the bad kind at the track where a young luge athlete died last week was responsible for the Canadians failing to reach the podium.

Before she could expound, a federation spokeswoman with more sense shot Uhlaender a dirty look and the athlete took the cue and said, "No comment."

(An hour and change later, the karma changed when Canadian Jon Montgomery got what Uhlaender failed to get: a medal, gold at that).

Federation president Darrin Steele, a former bobbsledder, said he understood Uhlaender's disappointment with her performance, but “we have a tight schedule and she wants to go off and do her own thing so she misses out on things. We're all Team USA and we put our efforts behind all out athletes.”

He said he had spoken to Uhlaender earlier in the week.

"I knew she was upset," he said. "I told her, 'You have to go out and compete. Stop whining about all this.'"

Instead of taking his advice or remembering her own promise of last year, Uhlaender did something her father never would have done.

She may have learned about competing from Ted Uhlaender, but she missed the lesson on class and sportsmanship.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 6:00 AM | Permalink
        

One of the nicest feelings at the Olympics is watching a small country triumph unexpectedly over the nations with the big bucks and the big teams.

It's the same with small villages.

Even though it has hosted two Winter Olympics and been the home of many athletes in training, Lake Placid (pop. 2,750) doesn't have much in the way of Winter Games bling.

That changed Friday afternoon, when Andrew Weibrecht unexpectedly took the bronze medal in the Super-G, just .03 second behind his better-known American teammate Bode Miller.

Norway’s Aksel Lund Svindal won the race with a time of 1:30.34.

At the Lake Placid Friendship House, in the shadow of the Whistler Mountain ski lifts and gondolas, people erupted in cheers and tears and a telephone tree sprouted branches as the news spread.

Weibrecht's parents, Ed and Lisa, own the upscale Mirror Lake Inn in Lake Placid and are skiers and pillars of the community.

Their son, one of five children, joined the New York Ski Education Foundation at 5 and began training for races at age 10. Sharpening his skills on Whiteface Mountain, where the 1980 Olympic skiing events were held, he quickly climbed the ladder, making the U.S. Development Team in 2003 and the C Team in 2005. Last year, he made the A team.

Weibrecht, 24, in his first Olympics, never finished better than 10th in a World Cup race and is ranked 18th in Super-G. At 5-foot-6, he is one of the shortest skiers on the big stage.

But his fans back home those surrounding the big screen at the Friendship House Friday never lost faith, even if they did have a few anxious moments that included some gasps and prayers.

"This is absolutely amazing," said Greg Harden, one of his foundation coaches who had taken a break in skiing to watch his former student.

"He's always had this potential. He's won at every level," said Harden, pausing to compose himself. "He was frustrated when he didn't have immediate success at the senior level, but he kept fighting."

Former coach Horst Weber called Weibrecht "a talented little kid."

"We nurtured him until he made the U.S. team," Weber said. "He's living proof of our program. He's one of ours. He's only the beginning."

Before today, the U.S. alpine ski team had won only one Olympic medal in men’s Super-G, when Tommy Moe earned silver during the 1994 Winter Games in Lillehammer, Norway.

"What a great day for Andrew and his whole family,” said New York State Olympic Regional Development Authority (ORDA) chairman Joe Martens. “Of course this is a huge day for him and his family, but it’s also a remarkable day for ORDA and Lake Placid."

Meanwhile, back at Whistler, the village fathers were busy making party preparations, ordering banners and balloons.

"I would think, said Harden, still grinning, "that there will be a lot of beer and a lot of celebrating tonight."

Let the villagers rejoice.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 6:35 PM | Permalink
        

I've stood close to many Olympians. Only once have I put my life in the hands of one.

The athlete is John Napier, a sergeant in the National Guard and a natural-born bobsled pilot.

He'll compete Saturday and Sunday in the 2-man bob and then come back next Friday and Saturday and throw down four runs in the 4-man competition. Afterward, a superior officer somewhere will decide whether Napier will join his unit in Afghanistan.

He dearly wants to go.

About five years ago after an international competition in Lake Placid, N.Y., I was offered a ride from the top of the mile-long track. Since "civilian" rides always start at a lower, slower spot, I quickly said, "yes," before anyone could change their minds--including me.

Then I saw my driver: a gangly teenager who looked like he was outgrowing his clothes before my eyes. He stuck out his hand.

I paused to assess my chances of survival and then stuck out my hand.

"I'm John. Just one thing. Don't let your helmet hit me in the back on the way down. I'll be kind of busy," he said.

"OK," I replied weakly (I'm not sure about the OK part. I am sure about the weakly part).

I slipped in behind Napier. Someone slid in behind me. The fourth person--the brakeman--and some track workers gave us a shove.

For a minute, it was like being inside a metal trash can with little demons pounding the outside with Louisville Sluggers. Only louder.

The metal cylinder that contained my life rolled violently and the G forces made my head felt like a cement block on top of a soda straw.

To the best of my knowledge, my helmet never tapped Napier's back. If it did, he was too much of a gentleman to mention it.

Instead, at the finish line, Napier stuck out his hand and said, "I didn't shake you up too much, did I?"

Only then did I learn that the natural born part was true. His parents, both bobsledders, brought him to the track from the time he was an infant.

He began driving bobsleds when he was 9. No one has driven the Lake Placid hill more than John Napier, who built his home in the woods just beyond the track.

His dad died a few years ago and the entire bobsled community in his hometown adopted him.

This season, he won his first World Cup medals--at home--and there were many tears.

If the military doesn't use him as a recruiting model, Napier could end up overseas, just one of the thousands of service members in whose hands we place our lives.

I've already done that and can tell you that Napier delivers

Posted by Candus Thomson at 12:28 PM | Permalink
        

She may be back there and I may be here, but few Marylanders can talk about the Olympics with more authority than Bel Air's Kimmie Meissner, a member of the 2006 U.S. team.

And she'll be spilling secrets at 1 p.m. Feb. 27 at the Sports Legends Museum next to Camden Yards.

Take advantage of talking to the youngest U.S. team member about the Turin Games.

She's a lively interview, good with kids and a truly decent person.

Ask her about "swag," all the free clothing and gear athletes get when they arrive at the Winter Games so they all look alike.

Ask to see her Olympic ring (Kimmie, if you're reading this, be sure to wear it).

Ask her where her Olympic dresses are.

Ask her if the movie Blades of Glory resembles the figure skating world at all.

Ask her who her favorite reporter is (Kimmie, if you're reading this, please say me. My buddy Kevin V already has Michael Phelps and Katie Hoff moved away.)

Just don't ask her if she has a boyfriend. Trust me, she hates that.

Admission to the museum is $6 for adults, $4 for seniors and $3 for children 3-12.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 6:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)
        

When you're among the best in the world and the schedule puts you up against competitors who are not, what do you do?

That's the dilemma facing women's hockey players from the U.S. and Canada as they work their way through the pack to the inevitable gold-medal showdown on Feb. 25.

Canada outscored its first two opponents 28-1. The U.S. team is at 25-1.

On their way to a 13-0 win over the Russians, the Americans did everything possible in the third period to keep from embarrassing their opponent.

"It's not about running up the score," said Jenny Potter, the oldest player and the only mother on the team. "It's about treating your opponent with respect and still working on what we need to be successful against Finland."

The U.S. plays Finland on Thursday.

Potter, a four-time Olympian, scored a hat trick -- her second of this young tournament -- in the first 32 minutes of the contest.

In the second period, Coach Mark Johnson, a member of the 1980 Miracle on Ice team, put the brakes on his high-scoring squad. Players passed more and substitutions were more frequent.

But even that had little effect, as the Russian goaltender couldn't handle what was thrown her way. At the end of two, the score was 12-0.

So in the third period, the Americans took just two shots on goal. But one of them was a goal -- tipped in by a Russian skater.

At the other end of the rink, U.S. goalie Jessie Vetter turned away just seven shots all game.

Still, the U.S. players skated off at the buzzer, knowing they had done everything possible to keep their skills sharp while not belittling their opponent.

"All we were trying to do was keep everyone involved and playing," said four-time Olympian Angela Ruggiero. "We still had things we could work on while still respecting our opponent."

Said Johnson, "Our message between periods was to be respectful, to remember they're also fulfilling a dream to be at the Olympics."

That's a good lesson for all the hockey moms and dads out there.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 11:27 AM | Permalink
        

As I sit here watching it snow in Whistler Village -- think Columbia with faux-rustic shopping centers -- for the first time in weeks, I'm thinking of another snow job, the one involving the luge competition.

The folks who run the show lowered the men's start to slow the speed by about 10 mph after the poor fellow from the Republic of Georgia went airborne and was killed.

I guess slowing the men's start was somehow supposed to make everyone feel better.

But then they lowered the women's and the doubles' start, too, dishonoring those world-class athletes by making them start from what is essentially a children's learning area.

Why?

With a few exceptions, those sliders were negotiating the track OK. A Romanian slider crashed and withdrew from competition, but that's the worst I saw.

No, they lowered the women's and doubles' start because the fossils who run the international federation couldn't bring themselves to let men and women compete from the same take-off point. There is no other explanation.

So instead of just messing with one-third of the competition, they've managed to screw up the whole show, start to finish.

The folly of the exercise was apparent right at the start, no pun intended.

Instead of getting six or seven paddles to propel their sleds, the women were getting two or three. Hey, why not just get an adult to push them off like they would a kid on a Flexible Flyer?

And the start immediately dips into a banked curve that is, as Canada's Alex Gough put it, "like running into a brick wall."

How do you power up and steer all in one motion? Not very well.

The women were furious. Said Gough of her hometown track: "Honestly, we send 13-year-old girls through this start."

And before you think I'm going all "I am Woman" on you, let me say that the men of doubles -- who slide from the same spot on Wednesday -- are upset, too.

Luge is a tiny sport that no one watches except in an Olympic year.

The folks who run it get one chance to make a good impression and they've blown it three times over.

Perhaps they need to work from a lower start.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)
        

Near the bar at R. J. Bentley’s, a College Park watering hole, is a golden winged statue, an Emmy, signifying that someone has done a darn good job cutting through the white noise on TV.

The statue belongs to Jimmy Roberts, an NBC reporter and a graduate of the University of Maryland, Class of 1979, who turns sporting events into televised essays.

Roberts is at his 13th Olympics -- his first was as a production flunky at the 1980 Lake Placid Games. He keeps coming back because “there’s nothing like an Olympics. People make fun of me, but I dig this stuff. It’s great sporting events and great moments ... It’s really sincere.”

In Vancouver, he’ll provide features for an afternoon show hosted by Al “Miracles” Michaels and will host his own “Meet the Press” show on Universal.

Roberts gravitates to the athletes who compete in the shadows of Lindsey Vonn, Bode Miller and Apolo Anton Ohno.

“For most Olympians, they are so impossibly thrilled to have accomplished this. They’re so overwhelmed,” he says.

And regular.

He recalls in 1980, after Eric Heiden won all five speed skating gold medals on the outdoors oval, the athlete left Lake Placid briefly then flew back to help provide network coverage. It was Roberts’ job to pick him up, a task he failed to carry out in a timely fashion.

“There he was, sleeping on an airport bench with a knapsack that had a button, ‘Eat the Rich.’

I just don’t see today’s super star athlete doing something like that,” he says, laughing.

Roberts came to Maryland from White Plains, N.Y., because “I was deluded into thinking I could play lacrosse. Buddy Beardmore had just won the national championship and sent me letters. I had a girlfriend who was attending American University and I said, ‘I’m in for this.’

“I broke up with the girl and got cut from the team in the blink of an eye and then went on to have the best time of my life,” he says.

After classmate John Brown III opened Bentley’s in 1978 and Roberts got famous, the restaurateur asked the broadcaster for an Emmy for his establishment on U.S. 1.

Roberts gave him one of the more than a dozen he’s earned.

The UM grad, whose sister lives in Balttimore, tries to get back in town for a Maryland basketball game every few years.

“I’m proud to be a Terp,” he says. “I bleed red and white.”

His most memorable Olympic moment came in 1994, when speed skater Dan Jansen, who lost his sister to cancer, finally won a gold medal after failing in heartbreaking fashion in 1988 and 1992. As he stood atop the podium and the National Anthem played, Jansen looked heavenward and said, “This is for you, Jane. I love you.”

“I don’t think there was a silver medal that night,” Roberts says. “It was chillingly memorable and soulful.”

The big stories at this Olympics will be Vonn (“she’ll be an enormous story whatever she does”), “the drama that is Shani Davis goes on and of course something will happen at figure skating that will make everyone crazy.”

And in a world that’s turned to Twitter and Facebook, Roberts will chronicle those tales.

“The game has changed, but I’m blissfully unaware of it,” says Roberts. “I think what I do will become obsolete, but I can’t be concerned about that.”

Posted by Candus Thomson at 10:50 AM | Permalink
        

His name is Ruben Gonzalez.

His country: Argentina.

His resume: four-time Olympic luger.

His Web site: thelugeman.com

His chances: Nada. Zippo. Zero. Zilch.

Don't take my word for it or don't think I'm being cruel.

Here's Gonzalez, 47, in his own words after his first of four runs.

"Feels like I've got a pretty good lock on last place. Someone would really have to try hard to take that away from me."

Of the 38 athletes competing here at the Whistler Sliding Center, Gonzalez is back of the pack in a sport where less than a dozen sliders have a chance at the podium in any year.

This year it's the Olympics, his last.

You see, Gonzalez knew Nodar Kumaritashvili, the slider from the Republic of Georgia, who died in a training accident last Friday.

Actually learned from him less than two years ago at the track in Latvia.

"It was just the two of us training," he recalled. "It's a tough track there. Before I even asked for help, Nodar came to me on his own and helped me through."

That's often the way it is for the lower-tier sliders who lack the financial backing of big federations and sponsors.

Gonzalez wasn't thinking of retiring after these Winter Games.

"A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have said that. I wanted to keep going."

The accident gave him perspective that "there are other things to do in life," he said.

During Friday night's Opening Ceremony, Gonzalez said he realized, "this wasn't for me any more. I didn't know how to celebrate, so at one point, when normally I would be hanging on every moment, I went outside and got a hot dog."

Even though luge officials have taken steps to lower speeds on the Whistler track, Gonzalez and others have looked shaky, even downright scary for the 48 seconds it takes to get down the track.

Some would say these competitors from places such as India and Taipei and Argentina have no business in a place like this.

Gonzalez disagrees.

"People think that sliders are daredevils and risk takers. People shouldn't think of us this way," he says. "We are analysts. We are like engineers and test pilots.

"The daredevils are gone in their first season."

Posted by Candus Thomson at 2:30 PM | Permalink
        

In a few hours -- weather willing -- Patrick Deneen will come bouncing down a mountain just north of Vancouver on his way to what he hopes will be an Olympic gold medal.


On the outside, the reigning world moguls champion will be wearing official Team USA gear. But underneath, "I'll be Baltimore all the way," he says.


Deneen, you see, helps develop and wears gear from 180s, the Inner Habor-based company best known for those cool, duplicated-but-never-equalled ear warmers that wrap behind the head instead of over the top.


(As an aside, the company, with headquarters at the Inner Harbor, also makes a pair of "Tech Touch" gloves with little metal contacts in the index fingers that allow you to, yes, operate a touch screen device without exposing flesh.)


The Baltimore-Washington corridor doesn't grow many winter Olympians. We have Bel Air's Kimmie Meissner, a 2006 Olympian, and gold medalist Dorothy Hamill adopted us more than a decade ago.


So we have to find our connections where we can.

Under Armour, Baltimore's other outdoor\athletic gear company, has suited up the U.S. bobsled team, skiing queen Lindsey Vonn and other freestyle skiing teams.


180s has Deneen.


"We're a small company. We're not an Under Armour, per se," says 180s marketing chief Brian Parker.


Perfect match. Deneen, like most freestylers, isn't a big guy.


But he turns heads.


The home-schooled wonder from Washington state was the 2008 World Cup rookie of the year, but a complete sleeper when he won the world title last year in Japan.


His father, Pat, runs a ski slope and coaches his son. His mom, Nancy, runs the video machine.


Patrick Deneen is a self-contained team, with a trampoline and personal ski jump at the family's 90-acre horse ranch.


Deneen says 180s was one of his first sponsors six years ago, something that helped him gain credibility.


Several times a year, he comes to Baltimore to inspect high-tech fabrics and clothing designs. He meets with the product design staff to give them little pep talks.


When you spend 200 days a year on the slopes, as Deneen does, your advice matters.


Deneen also is part of the 180s booth at trade shows and conventions, talking shop with buyers and giving out autographs. A recent event had a giveaway two-day ski vacation in Park City with Deneen.


Baker says at these Olympics, 180s will be conducting a "guerilla marketing campaign," giving out products at Cypress Mountain, the site of the moguls events.


And even though Deneen himself won't be a billboard for the company, rest assured that underneath he'll "be Baltimore all the way."

Posted by Candus Thomson at 10:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
        

When you go to cover the Olympics, you prepare for a lot.

Not death.

Yet Friday morning, there it was at the bottom of the luge track, waiting for Nodar Kumaritashvili, a young man from the Republic of Georgia, full of life and spirit, fulfilling his Olympic dream.

He was a split second from the safety of the finish line, when he lost control of his sled going more than 80 mph and was bucked into the air and slammed into an unpadded steel pole.

Medics said he had no pulse when they tried to revive him. Given the violence of the collision, Kumaritashvili most likely was killed instantly.

He was just 21.

Luge is an unforgiving sport. It requires complete concentration to get from the top to the bottom, one mile away, along an icy, twisting track at speeds approaching 90 mph.

First one down wins. Timing is done to the thousandths of a second.

No judges, no costumes or style points and normally no drama, unless it's a duel between the best in the business.
It's the reason I was drawn to luge a decade ago and the reason I was thrilled to be standing trackside, an Olympic credential around my neck, and watching.
I was prepared, thanks to U.S. athletes such as Tony Benshoof, Brian Martin, Mark Grimmette, Ashley Hayden and Erin Hamlin, who spent countless hours answering my questions and patiently teaching me their lingo.
To think that one of them could be killed pursuing their dreams was unthinkable.
Until yesterday morning.
The international luge federation has decided there was nothing wrong with the track--even as they beefed up padding--and competition will go on.
The men will race Saturday and Sunday. The women, Monday and Tuesday. The doubles, Wednesday.
"We came to race," said one official. "We will race, but we won't forget."
Neither will I.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 9:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)
        

This video, which seems timely to share in light of the fatal crash on the track at Whistler today, shows American luge athlete Tony Benshoof discussing the curves, speeds and challenges of the track in Canada. The video was shot late last year in New York.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 4:26 PM | Permalink
        

WHISTLER — As you rub your aching muscles, wipe the snow blindness from your eyes and figure out how you're going to take a summer vacation when the kids will be in school until Labor Day making up lost days, know this, Baltimore:

Vancouver is looking eastward and greedily coveting your ground cover.
It hasn't snowed in the city or Cypress Mountain, where the trick skiing and snowboarding events will be held, since Dudley Do-Right was a rookie Mountie and Nell was in diapers.

If rain and fog could be magically turned into white powder, those places
would be winter wonderlands. But, to borrow a twisted concept from Pat Robertson, they must have made a pact with the devil in order to get these 21st Winter Games.

Up in Whistler, where the real mountains begin, there's snow pack about nine-stories deep, although it's being whittled down a bit by above-freezing temperatures and rain.

It's also looking a little dirty after all these days and needs a fresh coating, like topping off a pint of beer and getting a frothy head.

Everywhere I go — from hotel registration desk to grocery store to bus to restaurant — people want to know the same thing. "Did you bring any snow with you?"

It's become a provincial obsession. People apologize for its absence. They speculate about where it is. They predict when it's coming.

And they all look to you, Baltimore, and hope for a CARE package to arrive. I hear you have some spare snow just ready to go.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 1:51 PM | Permalink
        

The flame has arrived in Vancouver. Atop a shiny metal tube, with thousands of eyes watching every move and video cameras recording every flicker, the flame that sparked to life in Greece and was carried across the ocean and the continent has arrived to do its duty.

Tonight, a famous Canadian -- identity a guarded secret -- will touch the flame to a massive cauldron along the waterfront, and the Winter Olympics will begin.

Eight years ago, the Olympic flame passed through Baltimore on the way to Salt Lake City.
Down U.S. 40 and into the Inner Harbor, hundreds of Marylanders passed the flame from hand to hand as many more watched. Some ran. Some walked. Some guided wheelchairs through the streets.

For 500 yards, I was one of them.

In the 48 hours before, I was a nervous wreck. What if I fell? What if I couldn't get my torch to light from the previous carrier's torch? What if the Olympic flame went out on my watch?
The morning of my official responsibility, I dressed in the running suit sent to me by the organizers. It was blindingly white, with blue and silver accents. I looked like a frosted doughnut with sprinkles. I felt like a million bucks.

At the Maryland Science Center, we had our questions answered and were handed numbered torches. Piled onto buses, we were dropped off at the spots where we would await our time to be part of the Olympics.

Standing on the curb near the edge of the Inner Harbor, the torch's arrival was heard before it was seen: the growl of the motorcyle escort, the muffled applause by hundreds of gloved hands, the click of cameras.

Then, it was right in front of me. I stopped breathing as two of us slightly dipped our torches and the flame danced from one to the other.

I looked over to see my fellow bearer smiling, her eyes filled with tears. So was the Baltimore City police officer nearby.

And all of the sudden, my vision turned wavy, too.

I ran with an escort, a young athlete from Anne Arundel County. After a few steps, I asked her if she'd like to carry the flame and she nodded. The last few steps, we held the torch together.

Afterward, I saw Cal Ripken, who with his family ran with the flame through the Inner Harbor.

"Amazing, yes?" I said.

"Amazing," he replied.

My torch sits at home in Silver Spring, the glass crown smudged with the soot of the Olympic flame from Greece. Just before I left for Vancouver, I hefted it once again, just as thousands of Canadians have done over the past few months.

A connection was made with people I'll never know.

Amazing, yes.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 10:10 AM | Permalink