Ski Racing

Sa saison 1967 est un plus grand exploit que son triplé olympique. Dans une interview exclusive, Jean-Claude Killy se souvient de la première saison de la Coupe du monde, il ya 50 ans, quand il a remporté 12 des 17 courses, y compris toutes les descentes, et a terminé sur le podium dans 89% des courses qu'il a entrées, un record qui n'a jamais été surpassé.

Interview de Yves Perret, Skiing History Magazine, 2017.

Read this story in English.

Cinquante ans après, la saison 1967 reste un des moments les plus aboutis de l’histoire du ski alpin. La première Coupe du Monde de l’histoire coïncide avec un de ses exploits les plus marquants.

Vainqueur de 19 courses sur 29, dont  12 de Coupe du Monde sur 17, et des six combinés de la saison dont la Coupe des Nations pour un total de 25 « 1st places », Jean-Claude Killy a remporté le premier globe de cristal avec le maximum de points possibles (225) soit 101 points d’avance sur l’Autrichien Heinrich Messner, son dauphin.

Autre chiffre incroyable, il a terminé 88.9% des courses ou combinés auxquels il a participé  sur le podium…

En juin dernier, chez lui, à Genève, « King Killy » comme l’ont surnommé les journaux de l’époque, nous a reçus. Sur la table, il a ouvert les épais albums où sont classées avec méthode les coupures de presse qui retracent les moments forts d’une destinée hors normes. Sur un cahier où sont inscrits ses résultats, d’une écriture rectiligne, une phrase : « La victoire aime l’effort ».

Pendant plusieurs heures, Mister Killy est redevenu le meilleur skieur de la planète.

INTERVIEW

Jean-Claude, comment s’est dessinée la saison 1967 au cours des saisons précédentes?

Cela a été une lente construction, avec des étapes importantes et la même obsession : gagner.

En 1963, je termine onze fois à la deuxième place.

Les Jeux de 1964 à Innsbrück avaient été un désastre technique.

Je perds ma fixation avant dans le slalom. Je chute dans le premier dévers dans la descente. Mes carres avaient été mal travaillées.

Je finis cinquième du géant. Je n’étais pas prêt.

La semaine suivante, je remporte le Kandahar devant Jimmy Heuga, mon copain américain. Ce qui prouve que la base était présente mais que je n’avais pas encore tout résolu.

En 1964, je n’avais pas encore trouvé les solutions à mes problèmes de santé contractés durant la Guerre d’Algérie. J’étais maigre, je n’avais pas d’endurance.

Je faisais des coups comme au Critérium de la Première Neige en 1961 mais je manquais d’un système pour avoir de la constance dans les trois disciplines. Se spécialiser, c’est enlever des chances de gagner et je ne le voulais pas.

Je souhaitais mettre en place une organisation qui me permette de gommer un maximum de ces impondérables qui font la spécificité du ski alpin de compétition.

Un des moments importants fut lorsque Michel Arpin a été engagé par Dynamic pour s’occuper de mes skis. Nous étions très complices et il m’avait pris sous son aile depuis mes débuts.

Il était originaire de Saint Foy en Tarentaise, tout près de Val d’Isère, et nous parlions le même patois local. Je savais que mes skis étaient entre les meilleures mains car j’avais une confiance aveugle en lui.

Comment qualifiez-vous le processus qui vous a conduit jusqu’au sommet ?

Ma démarche était personnelle. En équipe de France, on passait tout l’hiver ensemble mais avant le premier stage d’automne, chacun avait sa façon de faire. J’étais à la recherche obsessionnellement de ce qui pourrait me faire progresser.

L’équipement était capital. Il était impératif d’avoir les meilleurs skis existants. On ne peut pas perdre une course à cause du matériel car c’est l’élément déterminant. Je skiais avec le matériel de deux marques, Rossignol et Dynamic, sans contrat d’exclusivité, ce qui me permettait de choisir à chaque course la paire qui me convenait le mieux.

Cela impliquait d’adopter une ligne de conduite différente … et de faire des sacrifices financiers dans l’instant.

En 1963, je termine même 2^e du Kandahar avec des skis de descente autrichiens. A Portillo, j’ai utilisé des Rossignol en géant et des Dynamic pour les autres épreuves. Monsieur Bonnet nous comprenait. Le but, c’était de gagner des courses de ski.

J’ai toujours fonctionné ainsi. J’étais animé d’une passion débordante pour le ski, mais tourné vers la compétition.

J’ai fait l’impasse sur les études. Cela laisse du temps… mais cela ferme des portes et peut compliquer la reconversion.

La compétition était une obsession saine car je conservais ma liberté intellectuelle.  Le ski était mon métier.

Pour moi, seule la victoire comptait. Je n’avais pas le choix. C’était simplement ma seule forme d’expression.

Quelles ont été les clés de votre réussite?

Il y a à partir de 1965, la conjonction d’éléments qui, liés, ont permis de poursuivre la montée en puissance.

L’organisation Bonnet  qui nous accompagnait vers les sommets en était une.

L’industrie française qui  nous soutenait avec Rossignol, Dynamic, Look, Trappeur, Salomon une autre.

Les stations françaises et les hôteliers n’hésitaient pas de leur côté à nous ouvrir leurs portes pour presque rien.

Nous entrons dans une des plus belles périodes de notre sport avec l’avènement du ski moderne.

Il y a la conjonction de moyens financiers accrus, d’hommes et de professionnels expérimentés.

La diffusion télévisée devient mondiale et contribue à faire des sportifs des mythes.

Il règne alors en France une atmosphère miraculeuse. De Gaulle l’affirme : « Nos sportifs sont nos meilleurs ambassadeurs. »

 D’un coup, on passe des dortoirs de l’UCPA à un hôtel quatre étoiles.

J’ai posé une à une les pièces du puzzle et cela ne s’est fait pas du jour au lendemain.

En 1965, je suis élu Skieur d’Or Martini et Champion des Champions du journal L’Equipe, je remporte 9 victoires, je finis sept fois à la deuxième place.

Quelle est l’importance de la création de la Coupe du Monde dans la réalisation de cette saison incroyable?

Cela faisait plusieurs années que les skieurs ne supportaient plus de jouer une carrière sur une journée de Championnats du Monde ou de Jeux Olympiques. En outre, à cette époque, il était rare, par exemple, de participer à deux Jeux olympiques.

On était tous passionnés de Formule 1 et, pour nous, la référence, était le classement de la saison de ce Championnat du Monde. L’idée d’un classement sur la saison nous semblait la plus juste expression de la réalité de notre sport.

Nous avons souvent discuté de notre frustration  et de ce qui pourrait résoudre le problème et il nous semblait facile d’adapter cela au ski.  Le plan de la Coupe du monde de ski alpin formulé en 1966 par le journaliste Serge Lang, en collaboration avec l'Américain Bob Beattie, le Français Honoré Bonnet et l'Autrichien Sepp Sulzberger, soutenu par le quotidien sportif parisien L'Equipe et des journalistes comme Michel Clare - et John Fry, qui a ajouté la Coupe des Nations au mix, allait dans ce sens.

A Portillo, on était dans l’aire d’arrivée de la descente après ma victoire. Tout le monde pleurait. Serge Lang me demande : « La Coupe du Monde arrive. Comment vas-tu l’aborder. »

Je lui ai répondu : « Je vais la survoler… » Dans mon esprit, cela ne signifiait pas que j’allais l’écraser mais que j’allais en tirer la quintessence pour franchir une étape dans mon parcours sportif.

S’il n’y a pas de Coupe du Monde, il n’y a peut-être pas cette saison 67. C’est plus fort que Grenoble. Il n’y avait désormais plus uniquement les grandes classiques pour couronner la réussite d’une saison.

Comment qualifieriez-vous les relations au sein de l’équipe de France?

Nous étions liés à la vie à la mort. On s’entraînait ensemble, on s’affrontait tous les weekends

Aujourd’hui encore, nous restons aussi complices que des frères.

Au printemps 1966, on a skié des kilomètres au col de l’Iseran sur le glacier de Pissaillas. On s’est mutuellement nourris de nos qualités, de nos personnalités. Il y a toujours eu entre nous du respect, de l’humilité.

En 1967, Honoré Bonnet était à un an de la retraite mais le système était en place et fonctionnait parfaitement.

Michel Arpin s’occupait de mes skis et des chronos. Je savais que je pouvais m’appuyer totalement sur son savoir-faire et chacun dans l’équipe avait son rôle.

Par exemple, Melquiond apportait son calme et sa sérénité. Nous avons été compagnons de chambre pendant 7 ans sans qu’il y ait le moindre conflit d’égo.

Périllat était le capitaine de route écouté et respecté.

Léo Lacroix amenait son optimisme, sa bonne humeur… et son talent.

Mauduit le géantiste et Jauffret le slalomeur étaient des skieurs magnifiques.

Tous les talents de cette équipe et ces tempéraments additionnés formaient une formidable escouade.

Abordons, la saison 1967… Débutée en décembre 1966 chez vous, à Val d’Isère, par le traditionnel Critérium de la Première Neige…

Léo dit encore aujourd’hui en riant : « Je suis le seul à avoir battu Killy en 1967 en descente » car il s’était imposé à Val d’Isère. Lorsque je le taquine, je lui rappelle que c’était en décembre 1966 …

Le Critérium ne comptait pas encore pour la Coupe du Monde. C’était un beau moment de la saison. Celui-ci est un peu particulier car c’est la première fois qu’il se disputait sur la nouvelle piste de la Daille, la Oreiller-Killy.

La Coupe du Monde débute le 5 et 6 janvier à Berchtesgaden où vous terminez troisième du géant. Mais le premier succès vient quelques jours plus tard dans le géant d’Adelboden, première victoire d’une série de huit en comptant les combinés…  

Je gagne avec le dossard 13. Adelboden a toujours été une des pistes de références en géant. Y gagner, c’est valider une condition physique et des qualités. Le premier succès est un passage important.

Vous enchaînez avec deux victoires (descente et slalom) à Wengen. Quelle est l’importance de ce doublé?

Je préférais Kitzbühel à Wengen.

Dans la descente, je devance Léo de 25 centièmes. C’est la première victoire française dans le Lauberhorn depuis Guy Périllat en 1961. Elle a d’autant plus de saveur que les Autrichiens avaient qualifié notre triomphe de Portillo de folklorique et ils nous attendaient au tournant.

Pour toute l’équipe, c’est un moment important.

Je domine aussi le slalom qui est, pour moi, le plus pentu et le plus difficile de l’année.  

Avec ce triplé, puisque je remporte aussi le combiné, j’ai l’impression de rentrer définitivement chez les grands.

Kitzbühel, la semaine suivante, est un moment à part. Comment l’avez-vous vécu?

Courir à Kitzbühel était ce qu’il y avait de plus excitant. On était en Autriche, pour défier des mecs qui représentaient le ski, supportés par une foule immense. On me respectait mais j’avais des rapports parfois compliqués avec le public.

Il m’est même arrivé d’envoyer Jean-Pierre Augert, qui me ressemblait beaucoup, pour traverser la foule et signer des autographes.

Gagner à Kitzbühel, c’est le rêve de tous les skieurs. Cette année-là, je remporte la descente, le slalom et le combiné et je deviens le premier à réaliser ce double triplé.

On n’a pas conscience aujourd’hui de ce que cela représente mais remporter, comme à Wengen, le combiné est important même si cela ne comptait pas pour la Coupe du Monde. 

En descente, je devance Vogler d’1’’37 et je bats le record de la piste qui appartenait à Karl Schranz.

Le slalom de Kitzbühel est le plus beau. Il est très varié, avec des dévers, des changements de rythme. Il règne parfois une ambiance hostile et il faut savoir rester dans sa bulle. Je bats le Suédois Grahn, qui faisait partie des meilleurs spécialistes de la discipline de plus de deux secondes en gagnant les deux manches.

Il a régné durant ce weekend une ambiance que je n’oublierai jamais. J’ai traversé la station sur les épaules des moniteurs de ski de la station pour aller chercher mes récompenses. Cela aurait été impensable quelques années plus tôt.

« Superman sur des skis » titrait le Kronen Zeitung, un des principaux quotidiens autrichiens le lendemain.

Après ce weekend victorieux, Toni Sailer a écrit: « Killy pratique un autre ski, un ski d’un échelon supérieur à celui des meilleurs. Ses victoires sont celles d’un athlète complet arrivé à maturité. »

J’ai  alors marqué 151 points sur 175 possibles. Messner, deuxième,  possède 75 points.  

La série continue en descente à Megève…

La piste Emile Allais est très exigeante avec son mur Bornet qui est le passage le plus difficile et le plus dangereux des descentes internationales sur lesquelles j’ai couru.  

Je devance Hans Peter Rohr de deux secondes. Je réussis ma meilleure descente. Je suis étonné de l’avance. C’est ma huitième victoire consécutive et le globe de cristal de la descente est gagné.

En slalom, Périllat s’impose  et s’excuse de m’avoir battu. Il voulait surtout dominer Schranz, notre éternel rival.  Pourtant, je suis malade, je tombe dans la première manche mais je finis deuxième quand même et je gagne le combiné.

Je déclare forfait pour les épreuves de Madonna. Je prends quinze jours de pause et je fais ma rentrée à Chamrousse pour les pré-Olympiques où je m’impose en descente.

Un jour Toni Sailer m’avait raconté qu’avant ses trois victoires de 1956 aux Jeux Olympiques de Cortina, il avait arrêté de skier plusieurs jours. « Tu devrais faire cela » m’avait-il dit. Je l’ai imité en 1967, puis, un an plus tard avant les Jeux Olympiques de Grenoble, où je m’étais échappé une semaine à Montgenèvre chez mes amis Jauffret et Melquiond pour m’éloigner du ski et de la compétition.

Durant toute ma carrière, je me suis inspiré d’autres champions pour optimiser mon ski. Zeno  Colo que j’avais vu emporter le starter avec lui pour sa façon de sortir du portillon de départ, Adrien Duvillard pour sa manière de conduire le virage ou même le sauteur en hauteur soviétique Valery Brummel dont j’ai repris les exercices de weight lifting vus à la télé.

Les semaines suivantes, j’enchaîne ensuite sur le Kandahar à Sestrières avec un triplé français -Killy, Orcel, Périllat- en descente et une victoire dans le combiné très recherchée à l’époque. J’aime cette piste et l’entrée en forêt, superbe, le long des arbres.

La saison s’achève aux USA avec la traditionnelle Tournée américaine. Comment l’avez-vous vécue?

La fin de saison s’est déroulée dans la facilité. Il y a zéro doute, zéro soucis, zéro angoisse. Je suis sur un nuage.

Nous nous envolons pour les USA et c’était un moment que nous attendions avec impatience. J’étais très ami avec les coureurs américains –notamment Billy Kidd et Jimmy Heuga, le fils d’un berger basque français qui avait émigré aux Etats-Unis- qui étaient aussi de magnifiques skieurs.

Aller là-bas, traverser l’Atlantique était toujours un plaisir et une aventure. Pour ma génération, c’était un voyage important. Un de mes rêves d’enfant était de connaître l’Amérique

A la fin de cette saison 1967, cette tournée est un monument médiatique.

J’ai des propositions d’agents. On m’offre 200 000 dollars pour rejoindre le circuit professionnel et gérer une école de ski aux USA.

A l’escale de New York, une conférence de presse est organisée. Nous sommes reçus par le gouverneur du Massachussets.

On attend beaucoup de moi mais je dois rester concentré.

Dans Sports Illustrated, dont j’ai fait la couverture à trois reprises au cours de ma carrière, on peut lire des titres comme « Lafayette, they are back » ou « King Killy ».

Mais pour moi, il s’agit de ne pas perdre le fil de la saison et de terminer le boulot.  

L’étape de Franconia est importante…

Je gagne la descente. Une section difficile de la piste de Cannon Mountain est rebaptisée « Killy’s Corner» (Virage Killy). Cette fois, c’est sûr, je gagne la Coupe du monde.

Je remporte aussi le géant, le slalom et le combiné. Ce sont des moments de plénitude rares mais la saison n’est pas encore terminée.

Il reste pourtant deux dernières étapes à Vail et à Jackson Hole, comment les abordez-vous?

La Coupe des Nations devient un enjeu pour nous qui nous pousse à ne rien lâcher. L’équipe de France s’impose et c’est toujours un bon moment de gagner collectivement.

A Vail, je gagne deux géants, une descente et un slalom.

Evian, le commanditaire de la Coupe du Monde, offre le voyage à Robert, mon père, qui amène le globe de cristal  à Jackson Hole.

Là-bas, j’étais fatigué, j’avais souffert d’une sinusite les jours précédents.

Je reconnais la descente … en luge pour ménager mes forces et prendre un peu de bon temps.

A Jackson Hole, je gagne encore un géant.

La saison est finie ou presque puisqu’il me reste encore des courses en Suisse à mon retour à Verbier où je gagne, et à Thyon, où je suis battu par Mauduit.

Mais c’est durant la tournée américaine que le « boulot » a été terminé.

Je suis heureux de partager du bon temps avec mes copains.

Quels ont été vos adversaires durant cet hiver magique?

C’est une saison d’une incroyable densité avec 14 skieurs issus de sept nations, qui ont pris la deuxième place des courses que j’ai remporté.

Heinrich Messner a terminé à la deuxième place du classement général de la Coupe du Monde. C’était un skieur « classique », un homme discret mais toujours régulier et difficile à battre.

Je me suis retrouvé à quatre reprises sur la plus haute marche du podium accompagné de mon grand copain Jimmy Heuga. C’était une époque encore « amateur » dans l’esprit. Il y avait une vraie complicité entre les skieurs de toutes les nations avec lesquels on partageait de très beaux moments.

Une fois sur la piste, nous devenions adversaires, sans que cela n’altère nos relations. On a parlé de rivalité, notamment avec Karl Schranz mais la bagarre, c’est sur les skis qu’elle avait lieu. Le reste du temps, on s’entendait vraiment bien. Avec tous les skieurs de cette époque, nous avons des dizaines de souvenirs en commun, de fous rires partagés et d’anecdotes.

Cette saison incroyable a déclenché une médiatisation et notoriété hors normes. Comment l’avez-vous gérée?

Cela a vite débordé du cadre du ski alpin. A partir de Wengen sont arrivés des médias qui n’étaient pas ceux qui nous suivaient d’habitude comme Paris Match ou l’émission de télé très populaire en France Cinq Colonnes à la une.

Aujourd’hui, on parlerait de presse « people » qui voulait tout connaître de nous et pas seulement de nos vies de sportifs.

En janvier, au Tenne, à Kitzbühel, où nous avions l’habitude de fêter nos succès, Perillat m’avait mis en garde : « Fais attention, ne t’occupe pas de ce qui se passe autour. Cela m’a coulé après ma saison 1961 (nldr : durant cette saison, il avait remporté toutes les descentes avant de connaître un passage à vide de plusieurs saisons). Mais je sais que cela ne t’arrivera pas car tu sais faire la part des choses. »

1967 m’est tombé dessus et j’ai appris à composer avec la présence constante des envoyés spéciaux de toute la presse française et internationale. Il fallait être capable d’ « ouvrir » les portes puis de les refermer. C’est également ce que j’ai fait la saison suivante à Grenoble. Trente minutes de point presse chaque jour et c’est tout.

Quand avez-vous pris conscience du caractère exceptionnel de cette saison 67?

Je ne l’ai jamais perçue dans sa totalité. Je ne me suis pas rendu compte de ce que j’ai réalisé. Bien sûr, il y a des chiffres : 12 de Coupe du Monde sur 17, vainqueur de 19 courses sur 29, et six combinés de la saison pour un total de 25 « 1st places.»

Mais je ne me suis jamais dit « C’est fantastique »

Il m’a fallu 50 ans pour m’apercevoir que cela n’était pas commun.

Chaque époque possède ses challenges. Longtemps, ce qui m’a hanté, c’est ma deuxième place en descente à Kitzbühel en 1968. Cela m’a rendu malade. Comme quoi l’esprit se focalise parfois sur des anecdotes.

La saison 1967 est posée dans mon histoire sportive entre les Championnats du Monde de Portillo en 66 et les Jeux Olympiques de 1968. Elle fait face aux objectifs d’une journée, les fameuses « courses du jour J ». Ce sont, pour moi, des exploits qui vivent bien les uns à côté des autres et se complètent.

Finalement, 1968 à Grenoble, c’était assez « simple »… Il y avait trois courses, dans un laps de temps déterminé, à une date connue bien à l’avance, avec un objectif finalement assez clair.

1967, c’est une construction plus compliquée, plus élaborée…

Les comparer, c’est comparer un sprint et un marathon.

A l’été 67, je suis passé à autre chose assez vite. J’avais une passion immodérée du sport automobile. La Targa Florio, Monza, les 24 Heures du Mans, le Nurbürgring au volant de Porsche ou d’Alpine.  C’était bien de vivre d’autres moments, d’autres sensations, d’autres défis.

Aujourd’hui, c’est en me replongeant avec plaisir 50 ans après à la demande de Skiing History dans cette saison incroyable que je me rends compte que ce n’était pas si mal. Thank you, guys !

Yves Perret, qui dirige une agence de médias sportifs à Grenoble, est l'ancien rédacteur sportif du journal Dauphiné Libéré et rédacteur en chef de Ski Chrono.

It's the first three-peat in World Championship slalom since Christl Cranz did it in 1937-39.

By Tom Kelly

The 19-year-old German ski racer gave a tug on the laces of her leather boots, clicking them into the cables on her long wooden skis. Behind her was the towering Piz Nair, the iconic peak on Corviglia at St. Moritz, high in the Swiss Alps.

A day earlier she had won silver in the downhill on Piz Nair - five minutes, 38 seconds down the mountain. It was the first medal of her young career. Now it was time for slalom, as she placed her bamboo poles into the snow and pushed out onto the course.

Christl Cranz was the first great superstar of women's alpine ski racing - a new sport in the 1930s, making its Olympic debut in 1936. Belgium born, her family moved to Germany after World War I when she was just a child. She was skiing by six and took to it with a passion, eventually winning a dozen world titles and her sport's first Olympic gold at Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany in 1936.

Among her accomplishments were three straight World Championship slalom titles from 1937-39 - a feat never matched in 78 years. That is, until last week in St. Moritz when young Mikaela Shiffrin dominated the day to win her third straight gold.

There's a reason no one had matched the record of Christl Cranz. It's tough! The intensity of competition three quarters of a century later makes it more difficult than ever to stay on top.

As the second run approached on Saturday, Shiffrin sat in the snow atop the slalom hill on Suvretta. An umbrella provided shade for her as the sun baked the snow. Her physical therapist piled snow atop her boots to keep the plastic hard and responsive for the race just minutes ahead.

Shiffrin came to slalom day with a different look about her - hair braided into two pigtails, reminiscent of one of her slalom ski racing heroes Janica Kostelic of Croatia, who won the World Championship slalom in 2003 at St. Moritz. The two braids had brought her out of a funk two years ago when she had a slow start to the season before finally winning in Kuhtai, Austria on the eve of the World Championships at Vail/Beaver Creek.

While Shiffrin had a first run lead, the race is never over until the final gate. Swiss Wendy Holdener was only .39 back. Any simple mistake could spell the difference. Holdener would run 29th, Shiffrin 30th. And Holdener put down a strong run.

Now it was Mikaela's date with destiny.

"I tried to pretend like it was a new race completely," she said. "When I was in the start gate, nothing like that was on my mind. It was just, 'now it's time to go.'"

As an 18 year old in Schladming, Austria four years ago, Shiffrin broke through to win her first gold by .22 over home country favorite Michaela Kirchgasser. Two years ago, she withstood the pressure of a hometown World Championships to repeat the title by .34 over Sweden's Frida Hansdotter. In St. Moritz, Holdener had now put down the gauntlet with a solid run that ignited the hometown crowd.

Slalom is about subtleties. When you watch Mikaela Shiffrin ski, you may not even notice it - the direction, the precision, the comfort in her skiing, her confidence. But it plays out quickly in the timing splits.

Split by split, the light went green. Despite being 30 racers into a softening race course, Shiffrin continued to build her lead. And coaches knew the best was yet to come. In the first run, her entire lead was captured on the flat bottom split. And she did it again on the second run, crossing the line 1.64 seconds ahead of Holdener - an unimaginable margin.

Shiffrin is too early in her career to think much about records. "It's a lot to think about - it's a long time ago," she said in response to tying the record. "It's difficult to perform so well in big events three consecutive times. It's not easy and I can understand why people haven't done it.

"But my team around me is really great. My coaches are amazing and we've managed the season really well. I'm really proud of us taking a step back and saying 'I'm not doing the combined or super G. I'm just focusing on my events.' It put more pressure on the GS and slalom, but it worked out."

What sets Mikaela Shiffrin apart as one of her sport's greatest champions is her perspective. She doesn't get caught up in the hype. She endears herself to the media not so much as a champion, but as a real person who passionately cares about her sport.

"It's really cool. But, to be honest, I don't really know what it means yet," she said. "I wasn't thinking about that. Today my real focus was just on the day - on both my runs and my own skiing. I wasn't trying not to worry about anybody else - any of the other skiers.

"Today it wasn't about three medals," she said. "It was just about today and one medal."

Christl Cranz would have been proud.

By Tom Kelly

Over the past decade, Lindsey Vonn has established herself as one of the world's most notable athletes. People on the street know Lindsey Vonn. They recognize her as an accomplished ski racer and cultural hero of her time - a glamorous woman whose image has graced every level of global media.

What they don't see is the Lindsey Vonn who spends six to eight hours in the gym every day -  sweating and toiling to tone her 32-year-old body to accomplish things never before achieved in her sport. And with each painful injury, that work becomes harder.

It was no surprise that last weekend in the Bavarian village of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, she broke down in tears - letting her emotions loose in the finish area, hugging her father, doing a dance with the fans and looking back up at the imposing Kandahar run with a smile.

It was just a broken arm, some would say, that stole the first six weeks of the Audi FIS Ski World Cup season from her. But this wasn't just any broken arm. A downhill training crash at the U.S. Ski Team Speed Center at Copper Mountain, CO in November shattered her humerus. She showcased the x-rays on Instagram, detailing the fragmented bones and the metal plate and screws surgeons in Vail used to put it back together again.

Next came the work. There was pain. There were tears. Then there were pullups - maybe earlier than doctors would have liked. But she had a mission.

A week before Garmisch, after  just a few on-snow days at Vail, Vonn crossed the Atlantic bound for the tiny Austrian mountain village of Zauchensee south of Salzburg. It was a very special place for her. A year ago, the legendary Austrian Annemarie Moeser Proell was in the finish to greet the American star when she matched the record of 36 downhill wins.

A win would have been a fairy tale. But it wasn't in the cards. After days of waiting for weather to break for downhill training, Vonn mustered a 13th on the twisty-turn track that rips its way from the towering peak of the Gamskogel to the charming village below.

She tucked away the experience in Zauchensee and traveled to Garmisch with hope and confidence. The Kandahar is one of those big downhills with broad shoulders and bold, sweeping high-speed turns. Six of Vonn's then 76 World Cup wins had come there (among them a slalom win in 2009) - including a big victory a year ago by 1.51 seconds. Still, she had such little time on snow - and almost nothing at speed - she thought she may need to scale back her expectations.

The Kandahar stands proudly in the shadow of the Zugspitze. The women's course starts high in the Troeglhang, arcing boldly through the Bavarian forest - big sweeping turns. But while the top may be bathed in sunshine, the winding track is dark and bumpy, making it terrifyingly difficult to visualize your line. This was a course you skied with intuition and feel.

Vonn kept her cards close in two training runs, running fifth fastest on her final try but failing to  make one of the final gates. No worries. She knew she could adjust her line on race day.

Standing at the top, she knew what she had to do. German hero Veronika Rebensburg kicked it off with bib number one to take the lead. One by one, no one could match her time. Then came the matchup ski racing fans can expect to see in every speed race this season as Swiss star Lara Gut came into the gate. Gut knifed it down the Kandahar to take the lead. Soon it was Vonn's turn, in the familiar 17th start position.

She charged out onto the course, arcing her way onto the Kandahar and through the chicane turns of the Schussanger. The first intermediate time came up red, a slim gap to make up on Gut. Pointing her skis into the fall line, Vonn took on the look of a champion. This was not the same ski racer with the wide and shaky turns of a week earlier. She rocketed down through the Himmelreich and dropped over Waldeck - the steepest pitch on the course.

Suddenly the 2010 Olympic champion was up by .39 seconds over Gut.

Vonn continued to put down bold turns, skiing a courageous line - taking calculated risks, skiing on a mission. Now it was down to the final turns through the FIS Schneisse and into the Tauber Schuss - time ticking and ticking.

As she crossed the finish line, there a moment of silence. Then there was the roar of the crowd. She saw the scoreboard and it was green. She hugged her hands into her chest, looking into the crowd for her father, before collapsing prone on the snow sobbing uncontrollably.

Sport fans see what takes place in the arena. But sometimes they get a look deeper inside. In Garmisch-Partenkirchen on Saturday, they saw into the heart of one of the world's greatest athletes. Even if you're Lindsey Vonn with 77 World Cup wins, they don't come automatically and they are never easy.

It's one thing to set a goal of winning, it's quite another to achieve it. Lindsey knows she can match Ingemar Stenmark's record of 86 World Cup wins. She knows she can race against the men. But she, and only she, bears the burden of achieving it.

"To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was capable of," she said fighting back tears in the finish. "I tried to risk more and believe in myself. I know people don’t think about how much blood, sweat and tears it took to get here today.

"Words can't describe how happy I am right now. Hard work pays off in the end.

"I did it!!"

By Tom Kelly

Gold comes in many forms. Last weekend on the icy pitch of the fabled O.K. course in Val d’Isere, France, a 15th place World Cup super G result gleamed brighter than an Olympic medal for Ryan Cochran-Siegle.

Cochran-Siegle is a Vermont native who has made Park City his home the last few years, living with his cousin and former U.S. Ski Team racer Jessica Kelley and her husband, well known Park City athlete and coach Adam Cole.

It had been nearly four years since his last major international speed event in February, 2013. On the third gate of the combined downhill at the 2013 World Championships in Schladming, Austria, he crashed, shredding his left knee. Multiple surgeries and hundreds of days in the gym later, he scored a career-best finish on a weekend that could define his pathway leading up to PyeongChang in just 14 months.

The son of 1972 Olympic slalom champion Barbara Ann Cochran, Cochran-Siegle had a textbook career going. He won his first U.S. Championship medal at age 19 in 2011. That next December he scored his first World Cup points in the Birds of Prey super G with a proud mom in the finish. Two months later he captured double gold at 2012 World Junior Championships in Italy.

He was on his way. Until that fateful day in February, 2013.

Standing in the start gate for his return to World Cup speed, his mind was calm and focused. “Starting 61 was super nice because I had no expectations,” he said. “You really have to have a pretty incredible run. There was no pressure – it was a win-win in my eyes.”

Few athletes could have survived what he had endured for nearly four years. At his side was a team of doctors, trainers, coaches and family. His gold medal attitude of patience and perseverance would serve him well.

He planted his poles at the top of the historic O.K. course that bears the initials of Val d’Isere’s most famous sons, Henri Oreiller and Jean-Claude Killy and did what he has always loved to do: he skied.

It was a long road to Val d’Isere. Much of his knee was destroyed from the accident. Initial rehab went well and he was back on snow. But it didn’t last. Another surgery. No go. One option remained – transplant surgery. While not that unusual, it was a procedure that wasn’t ideal for the levels of stress an athlete puts on the knee. But if there were ever a candidate, Ryan Cochran-Siegle was the one.

“We really blazed our own path on this one,” said the team’s medical coordinator Chris Antinori. “There was really no precedent to draw from looking at other college and professional sports for athletes having this procedure and returning to a high level of sport participation. But a lot of good things and good people came together to make this a positive outcome. RCS is the only elite skier and athlete that I am aware of to return and be successful at an elite level.”

He could have given up at any point in time. But he didn’t.

“Having had prior success, I didn’t want that to be my final race – I wasn’t ready to be done,” said Cochran-Siegle. “The amount of energy I put into my rehab – I wanted to do it right. That was the only way to make it out with what I wanted to still achieve.”

Bunkering down at the Center of Excellence and hitting the books at Westminster College, he waited for the call. Finally, it came – a donor had been found. In August, 2014 he underwent a third surgery at the Steadman-Hawkins Clinic in Vail.

Then came the work. At first, eight weeks non-weight bearing but still working every day on his good leg. Then mundane, simple exercises to patiently bring him back to strength. Six months later on February 2, 2015 – when his teammates were parading into the World Championships at Vail/Beaver Creek – Cochran-Siegle was doing his first barbell squats. A milestone day, strength coach Tracy Fober at his side.

He was on snow that summer, carefully undertaking a prolonged return to snow process together with his teammates Tommy Biesemeyer and Resi Stiegler under the watchful eye of coach Bernd Brunner. Patience was his virtue. The 2016 season was a good one mixed with some NorAm podiums, a couple FIS race wins, a pair of medals at U.S. Championships in Sun Valley and a point-scoring finish in a World Cup at Kranjska Gora.

But he wanted to get back to speed.

There’s a certain protocol in a World Cup finish area as the race day wears on. While the winners are already doing their TV interviews, eyes remained glued to the scoreboard watching to see who might make an attack from the back. RCS didn’t win the race. But, boy, did he turn a lot of heads.

Up on the race course, team trainer Antinori felt a deep swelling in his heart. Back home at the Center of Excellence, his strength coach Fober, passionately watched the TV broadcast on her computer – ignoring the meeting she was attending and shouting out loud as he crossed the finish line. As a coach or trainer, it tugs at your heart and brings tears to your eye to see a hard working athlete achieve success.

“When I crossed the finish line it was a huge relief,” he said. “I didn’t know I had that good of a run. It felt like I was on the fine line of skiing well and going out. But when I saw I was 15th
I was surprised, a little overwhelmed and super happy – immediately super happy.”

Cochran-Siegle lives in Park City with his cousin Jess Kelley and her husband, former athlete and team coach Adam Cole. In Ryan’s room, Cole hung a 2002 poster of Norwegian star Lasse Kjus that says: ‘Three-Time Olympic Champion – Inspiration.’

Ryan Cochran-Siegle is an athlete to watch. On his Instagram channel he’s posted a saying: ‘It isn’t the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.’

The gold medal goes to Ryan Cochran-Siegle.

Radical racing invention, or a variation of a long-established technique? By John Fry

Was the Egg (oeuf in French, Ei in German) a radical ski racing invention? Or merely a stage in the steady progress made in streamlining the skier’s body to achieve faster speeds?

In France the question is alive, and afire with controversy. Jean Vuarnet, his son Alain, and his supporters tell of the enormous research he did to achieve his invention. They cite the French newspaper Le Figaro, which once compared the Egg to the Fosbury Flop, a single change in body action that eventually enabled all high jumpers to leap higher. Vuarnet also suggests retaliation—that doubts about his “invention” only began after his involvement in the controversial firing of six racers from the French ski team in 1973. Critics and opponents, like Jean-Claude Killy, say the Egg wasn’t an invention, but merely a variation of what downhill Olympic gold medalists Henri Oreiller and Zeno Colò were already doing a few years earlier.

Experts in the rest of the world appear baffled by why there should be a controversy. They mostly see Vuarnet’s work as part of speed skiing’s changing aerodynamics, going back at least to 1930 and 1931, when Gustav Lantschner and Leo Gasperl set world speed records, and earlier to the 19th century, when California gold miners sat low over their long skis to speed downhill. It’s hard to find anyone outside of Gaul who thinks l’Oeuf is anything but a stage in the evolution of the hocke, crouch, tuck and streamlining of the racer’s body. Vuarnet first exhibited his stance in Ski ABC—Technique Moderne. The 1957 book contains a picture of him in what is clearly the optimal aerodynamic stance of the time—poles and lower arms parallel to the skis, which, however, are not as far apart as in later editions of Joubert’s and Vuarnet’s books. No textual analysis is offered.

The foreword to Ski ABC was written by Ralph Miller, who helped with the first English-language edition, and who set a world speed record at Portillo in 1955. Miller thinks Vuarnet’s stance was simply a further refinement of body positions designed to reduce air friction.

The 1960 edition of Ski Moderne (Arthaud) contains excellent photos, illustrations and text about l’Oeuf. It’s the first detailed description I can find in print. A photo sequence of Vuarnet from the pages of Sports Illustrated is wonderful. That magazine, and others at the time, credited Vuarnet’s Squaw Valley downhill gold medal to his use of metal skis, as well as to his superior aerodynamic stance. The Austrians were the big losers. “We missed the wax,” Anderl Molterer told me recently.

I have a copy of the German Ski Moderne, a translation by Hanspeter Lanig, published in 1963. Via e-mail, Lanig told me that l’Oeuf was an invention (erfindung) of a word, not of a technique. And Dick Dorworth, the American who set a new world speed record at Portillo in 1963, says he knew about Vuarnet’s Egg. He thinks stance is shaped considerably by the racer’s own morphology. In competitive downhill racing, the V-J or Oeuf is a technique mostly limited to shaving seconds on flatter sections of the course. How valuable it is depends on the terrain—the Streif on Hahnenkamm and Birds of Prey at Beaver Creek yield less advantage for l’Oeuf than, say, the Sarajevo Olympic downhill of 1984, or the Squaw Valley downhill of 1960.

Austria’s Stefan Kruckenhauser was said to have invented “wedeln” about the same time as Vuarnet “invented” the egg. Both drew their inspiration from racing technique. Lanig might say that the word, not the act, is the invention.

My own view is that Vuarnet’s writing and photos brought into public view the final ideal stance for attaining the highest speeds on flatter sections of downhill courses and in setting speed records—an evolution that had begun at least 30 years before. Joubert and Vuarnet’s 1966 Comment se Perfectionner à Ski (How to Ski the New French Way) shows a further evolution: the bullet or bolide. It was a super-egg-like streamlining of the body, with legs even more splayed, torso even more compressed between the legs. Here, arguably, was the final form. It hasn’t changed much in the ensuing 50 years.

Bob Beattie recently shared some thoughts about the state of ski racing in the United States. Here's what Coach has to say:

• Alpine ski racing is too expensive. When a parent calls to tell me she paid $25,000 for her kid to be on the U.S. 'C' Team, or $30,000 when moved to the “B” Team it makes me wonder. This is killing our sport!
• Local programs are our future.  The USST has jumped in after many years away. We need top coaches and leaders at the local level who have leadership capabilities and the ability to keep parents on the sideline! (I could write a book on this).
• Age levels have changed. Many USST racers are 30 years old or more. Maybe we should only support them if they excel, and only spend money on the younger ones!  Many have wanted to bring back Pro Ski Racing, but  we already have it within the USST – older racers have their own coaches, managers, travel etc.
• We have a program in Aspen, in which almost 2,000 kids become skiers at  very low cost. They receive bus transportation up the valley and instruction by the Aspen Ski School instructors. Jeff Gorsuch gave 250 pairs of skis, boots, poles, and bindings last week at no charge. A large percentage are Spanish speaking. They could not be skiing without his support. The Aspen Ski Company gave 150 snowboards. We started this several years ago and it is run through the Aspen Valley Ski Club. I would like to see this number double. We should present this to other ski towns. Then we would truly be Best in The World.
• Formats: Skiing is slow when it comes to new ideas. Let's push team events – with dual racing both at local level and USST.
• College skiing is alive but not well in the West. Only two out of 12 skiers were Americans in last winter's NCAA Championships from University of Colorado, Utah and New Mexico, and only one from the University of Denver. Education is key, with scholarships and coaching. The USST has ignored college skiing.  It should work to bring it back.

China and the future of the Winter Olympics. By John Fry

The transformation of the Olympic Winter Games within the lifetime of most Skiing History readers has been shocking. 

Bob Beattie speaks out on the “alarming” state of collegiate ski racing in the United States—and how it can be fixed.

By Edith Thys Morgan

Above photo: Courtesy David Bayer Photography

This past May, U.S. Ski and Snowboard Association (USSA) CEO Tiger Shaw announced the first National University (N-UNI) Team, to the tentative applause of the skiing world. The announcement marks a major philosophical shift for an institution that, at best, has tolerated rather than embraced elite athletes progressing through the NCAA ranks. Critics lament the small numbers and lack of female representation on the six-man N-UNI roster, all of whom will compete for their respective colleges while also competing on the U.S. Ski Team (USST). Proponents like USSA Alpine Development Director Chip Knight—himself a USST alum, three-time Olympian and, most recently, head women’s coach at Dartmouth College—see it as a hugely positive first step. 

“It’s a pilot program,” Knight says. “Our hope is to provide a viable path for kids to start school and keep developing [as skiers]. The N-UNI Team is an opportunity to show this can work.” One person who was unequivocally happy with the announcement is the U.S. Ski Team’s biggest fan and boldest critic, Bob Beattie.

Beattie’s influence on alpine skiing started in the late Fifties and Sixties, when collegiate skiing was the repository of the top U.S. coaches and athletes. The New Hampshire native grew up with a love for all sports and attended Middlebury College, where he started his coaching career. He moved to the University of Colorado (CU) to coach football and skiing in 1956, at age 23. Beattie’s Buffs won the NCAA Championships in 1959 and again in 1960, with a team of U.S. racers. Throughout Beattie’s nine years there, CU battled with the dominant University of Denver team and their coach Willy Schaeffler. While Beattie prided himself on his all-American team, Schaeffler aggressively recruited Europeans, mainly Norwegians, who brought him 13 national titles from 1954–1970. 

Beattie went on to coach the first U.S. Ski Team from 1961–1969 (concurrently coaching at CU until 1965), coaching Billy Kidd and Jimmie Heuga to Olympic silver and bronze medals respectively in 1964. He co-founded the World Cup in 1966, founded the World Pro Tour in 1970, and was commissioner of NASTAR. An ABC commentator for four Olympics, Beattie’s name and voice became synonymous with U.S. alpine skiing. Master innovator, promoter and motivator, he remains a thoughtful and outspoken advocate of skiing, offering his views on how to transform, preserve and improve ski racing in the United States. Here, Bob shares his views on the state of collegiate skiing and where, with some encouragement, it might go.

How did you get into skiing?
I grew up outside of Manchester, New Hampshire, and Dad introduced my brother and me to every sport you can imagine, including skiing. We didn’t have much money but we loved the mountains, skiing and just goofing off.

And ski racing?
I got into ski racing in high school, then at Proctor Academy where I went for a year before going to Middlebury College. I was actually better at cross country than at alpine, but I told them I couldn’t compete in cross country because I had a bad heart.

Did you in fact have a heart condition?
No. But I wanted to race alpine. I tried for the alpine team every year. Finally in my senior year I knew I wouldn’t make it, so I raced cross-country. I also played football in the fall and tennis in the spring.

Who was an early influence in ski coaching?
I learned a lot from Bobo Sheehan (then Middlebury coach, whom Beattie temporarily replaced when Sheehan left to coach the 1956 Olympic team). He had a great way of working with people. And we both hated Dartmouth. (Laughs.) I still hate Dartmouth.

Describe your CU experience.
CU ski racing was a big challenge for me and a great love affair. We fought hard with DU all the way and made “only U.S. racers” our password. At one point, the CU athletic director called a meeting with Schaeffler, the DU athletic director, and myself to tell us to “slow down.” That only lasted for a week and we were at it once again!

Your reputation was one of tough love, working harder than the other guys and building team spirit through
suffering. How did that play at CU?
Maybe it was my football background, but physical conditioning was the key to everything.  In addition to hiking to train on St. Mary’s Glacier, we worked out five days a week in the fall. Coaches from other CU sports came to watch and they couldn’t believe it.  We worked out Saturday and Sunday at 8 a.m.! Even today I exchange calls with my guys from then, people I tortured. They love to bring it up.

And nobody dodged the work?
When Spider Sabich—“only a freshman”—was late for training, I let the rest of the team take a break and made Spider do somersaults up the football field until he went into the trees and got sick!

When you first started at CU, you changed the NCAA rules (against Schaeffler’s wishes) so that three out of four racers counted (it previously had been four out of five). Then you took an innovative approach to increasing participation on the ski team.
The CU Ski Club had 3,500 members, so in an effort to broaden the CU Ski Team, I moved my office from the Athletic Department to the Student Union building. We had a film room there and I could take each racer’s video from the weekend and put them on his own reel. Every day around 10 a.m., the place was jammed and noisy, but it built enthusiasm for the team.

Do you still think that's the key—bringing skiing to the people?
Yes! I feel very strongly that CU should have a winter carnival at Eldora, like the ones they have in the East. But it could also attract a wider audience. It could have music and all types of events, both for college and recreational racers.

Beattie with an unidentified skier at the University of Colorado, where he coached for nine years, starting in 1956. Under his leadership and with "only U.S. racers" as his creed, CU won the NCAA alpine championships in 1959 and 1960. Photo courtesy of University of Colorado Athletic Department.

What makes college ski racing special?
Academics, the racers themselves, the spirit, and having both men and women competing—it will always stand the test of time. 

These rivalries throughout your career—Dartmouth vs. Middlebury; DU vs. CU; U.S. vs. European— were they bitter or friendly?
It was always friendly in the aftermath. That’s the way it is in skiing. When we get together those [rivalries and arguments] are the things we talk about. I even like that there are lots of Dartmouth people working for the U.S. Ski Team now. It is a disciplined and creative approach. I love that they are involved with college racing. Tiger Shaw’s wife Kristin left the World Champs in Vail to attend a carnival race. I love that!

How do you see the state of college skiing today?
College skiing, particularly in the West, presents an alarming situation. CU, DU, Utah and New Mexico all qualified the maximum 12 men and women allowed for the NCAA championships. They were the top four schools along with Vermont, but only two racers were from the United States! This is not right. Many Western schools (Washington, Wyoming, Nevada, and Western State) have dropped their programs. I question whether there will even be college skiing in a few years.

The European skiers raise the level of competition and lower the penalties. How does that hurt U.S. skiers?
By receiving scholarships, they are depriving U.S. youngsters the chance of receiving an education, and a future in racing. At CU I made it a point to have U.S. kids, many from Colorado mountain towns and others who later moved to Colorado after graduating. 

You have a great deal of respect for current CU coach Richard Rokos, and even supported him for the Colorado Ski Hall of Fame. Under Rokos, CU earned NCAA titles in 1998 and 1999. The majority of those athletes were born within a 100-mile radius of CU.   

The next generation of recruits, however, could not compete against what Rokos called the “Foreign Legion.” DU won four titles in row and UNM won a title with no Americans on the teams whatsoever. So Rokos brought kids from across the pond and CU won the NCAA title in 2006. With the pressure from financial backers, what could he and other college coaches do?
I disagree with the win-win-win approach. It's how you win. And winning can mean different things. It can mean more popularity for the sport. It can mean working with and strengthening local programs and U.S. athletes. 

The mix should mostly be homegrown. What will happen if more colleges are faced with financial problems and drop some sports? Where would CU, New Mexico and Utah fit, unless we show statewide support from the ski industry and local programs?

So the college thing is also an industry thing.
Colleges, local programs, the USST, retired racers, and the media should work together. Getting kids on snow and keeping it affordable is a challenge, but we can all help by working together and asking ourselves, “How can we best support our sport while expanding U.S. participation across the board?” Certainly, universities in snow states can be strong participants. Most families can’t afford the cost, especially with too much travel and parents with money working to “buy” success. We all know skiing is expensive, but we can correct this some by not traveling as much. It’s hard to increase skiing skills riding in a car or hanging out at some far away ski area. 

If the NCAA does not have the will or incentive to change the rules and limit foreigners, what can the coaches do?
Change the rules! Create new rules. In my ancient days we fought the FIS all the way about everything from race sites to seedings. One time in Wengen we fought over FIS rules about seeding and it lasted 3-1/2 hours. We won this battle (Kidd was scheduled to start the slalom wearing #45, but ended up in the first group) by not giving up, not by quiet negotiations! 

All the coaches have to do is stand up and be heard. I'm nudging them a lot. I may be taking a break but I'm not quitting on this one.

Not everyone agrees with you.
(Laughs.) Even my son Zeno disagrees with me. Like many of the college coaches, he believes the reason there are so few Americans is that they aren’t good enough. I say there is no opportunity for them. God bless the Eastern part of the country, where there are still American athletes.

What keeps you up at night?
This!

You’re an optimist. Where’s the hope?
We have a long way to go, but I am 100 percent convinced that skiing can thrive if it is promoted well at all levels.

Beyond going more local, how else could college skiing be improved?
I think having new formats and ideas should come about every year. Add new more interesting events. Maybe dual racing and snowboard events to attract the ESPN X Games audience and gain college press excitement. We should have answers when people ask, “What’s new?”

You haven’t always agreed with the USST approach to college racing.
In the past, the USST ignored college skiing. The philosophy was that you should pluck away top kids and bring them together to one place in a specialty school. I think you need to keep kids in local programs as long as possible.

Where do ski academies fit into that?
I am not a huge academy guy. (Laughs.) I understand it, but I think you can still go to a regular high school, or at least junior high.

What do you think about N-UNI?
It’s a great step in the right direction. The national team needs to work with colleges and college athletes.  What better way to develop kids and gain an education?  The colleges have good coaches and specialize in technical alpine events, plus cross-country.  

For coaches to keep their jobs, isn’t it all about winning?
There is more than winning the NCAA champs, particularly if not many people know about them. Let’s tell the story and let the secret out of the bag! Not all schools need to go for overall team victories. Some might want to specialize in cross-country.  

How do you feel about the U.S. Ski Team today?
It's exciting for me. The USST needs to work with the colleges and vice versa. I have lots of confidence in Tiger Shaw, who understands this and will make adjustments to increase the stature of college skiing.

So you’re a fan of Tiger?
Yes, even though he did go to Dartmouth. 

Edith Thys Morgan is a two-time U.S. Olympian in alpine skiing and the author of Shut Up and Ski. You can read her blog and learn more at www.racerex.com.

Years (shown below in parentheses) represent the period when the athlete competed internationally.

Christl Cranz

Christl Cranz (Germany, 1934–1939): 15 World Championship medals, 2 Olympic medals*

Nancy Greene (Canada, 1960–1968): 3 Olympic medals, winner of the first two overall women’s World Cup titles, 14 World Cup wins.*

Marielle Goitschel

Marielle Goitschel (France, 1962–1968): 9 World Championship medals (including 2 Olympic), 7 World Cup wins*

Annemarie Moser-Proell (Austria, 1968–1980): 9 World Championship medals (including 3 Olympic), 62 World Cup wins, 6 overall titles (record for men and women)

Hanni Wenzel

Hanni Wenzel (Liechtenstein, 1974–1984): 9 World Championship medals (including 4 Olympic), 33 World Cup wins, 2 overall titles 

Erika Hess (Switzerland,1980–1987): 7 World Championship  medals (including 1 Olympic), 31 World Cup wins, 2 overall titles

Erika Hess

Vreni Schneider (Switzerland, 1986–1995): 9 World Championship medals (including 5 Olympic), 56 World Cup wins, 3 overall titles

Janica Kostelic (Croatia, 1998–2007): 6 Olympic, 5 World Championship medals, 30 World Cup wins, 3 overall titles

Anja Paerson (Sweden, 1998–2012): 6 Olympic, 9 World Championship medals, 42 World Cup wins, 2 overall titles

Lindsey Vonn (USA, 2000– ): 2 Olympic medals, 6 World Championship medals, 65 World Cup wins as of March 15 (record), 4 overall titles 

* Cranz, Greene and Goitschel competed in years before the 1967 introduction of the World Cup. The first women's World Alpine Ski Championships were held in 1931.

From 1961 through 1967, the annual Bee Hive giant slalom competition attracted the world’s top professional racers to Canada. 

By Caroline Forcier Holloway

On March 7, 2014, the Georgian Peaks ski area in Ontario hosted its annual Super GP Classic, a team giant slalom race on the intermediate Minute Mile trail. Located near the town of Collingwood and overlooking Lake Huron’s Georgian Bay, this private alpine club offers 24 trails with a vertical rise of 820 feet, the highest in the province.

Though the GP Classic is an amateur event, open only to club members, it recalls a little-known but interesting chapter in racing history. On February 26, 1961, Georgian Peaks hosted the inaugural Bee Hive giant slalom. It was the first professional GS race in Canada and a smashing success, attracting elite racers like Stein Eriksen, Othmar Schneider, Ernie McCulloch and Anderl Molterer. For the next six years, top pro racers from Europe and North America convened in Canada to race on the Bee Hive circuit. 

Skiers ride the double chair at Georgian Peaks in Ontario on the day of the event. All frame enlargements courtesy Library and Archives Canada, Dan Gibson Fonds, Bee Hive Films No. 1, 4 and 7.

The event was named after Bee Hive Golden Corn Syrup, an energy food manufactured by the St. Lawrence Starch Company of Port Credit, Ontario, the event sponsor. A Montreal Gazette article published in February 1962, following the second annual Bee Hive, reported that “to those who watched this spectacular and successful event, it was evident that professional ski racing had arrived to stay.” It also established Georgian Peaks as a training ground for Olympic-caliber Canadian alpine racers, including Judy Crawford (who placed fourth in women’s slalom at the 1972 Winter Games in Sapporo), Todd Brooker (who raced on the World Cup from 1981 to 1987 and is now a TV ski-racing commentator) and Brian Stemmle (who competed in four Olympics, from 1988 through 1998).

The driving force behind the first Bee Hive was Ian Rogers, a Toronto lawyer who founded Georgian Peaks in 1960. A key partner was the late Dan Gibson, a portrait photographer, budding filmmaker and avid skier, who was keen on promoting skiing in Collingwood and at Georgian Peaks. Sponsorship was easily secured through Gibson’s skiing friend Lorne Gray, of the St. Lawrence Starch Company. Through its signature Bee Hive corn syrup, the company was already sponsoring national and local sports events, including the National Hockey League. (At the time, corn syrup was a regular staple on breakfast tables, to pour on pancakes or addto your coffee.) The company’s role in the annual GS event included covering the competitors’ expenses, putting up the prize money, and advertising and promoting the race. And every year, a comely “Miss Bee Hive” was on hand to award medals and give each competitor a free can of corn syrup, which the racers drank (as seen in the films). Gibson documented the races and distributed his films for free, to promote the event and the sport of alpine racing—and skiing—across Canada (see “To Learn More”).

The First Bee Hive: Stein Eriksen Wins the Prize

Stein Eriksen won the first Bee Hive in 1961. 

The 1961 inaugural Bee Hive attracted some of the biggest names in ski racing. Stein Eriksen, the Norwegian superstar who had won a gold medal in GS and silver in slalom at the 1952 Winter Games, took first place. Anderl Molterer of Austria, also known as the “Blitz from Kitz,” took second. Fellow Austrian racers Christian Pravda and Othmar Schneider came in third and fourth, respectively. According to Red McConville, the former president of the Canadian Ski Association who raced in the 1964 Bee Hive, Toni Sailer, the world champion racer from Austria, was present for the first Bee Hive, but didn’t compete due to his new career as an actor. In Gibson’s film, he is seen congratulating the Bee Hive winners. In total, 23 competitors raced in the inaugural Bee Hive, including Canadian champion Ernie McCulloch of Mont Tremblant, Québec. 

A newspaper headline of the day reads: “The real heroes of the race, however, didn’t wear skis.” This is a nod to the race organizers and volunteers, who ensured that the race would happen despite poor conditions that almost caused its cancellation. For a week before the race, unusually mild temperatures, mixed with rain and a lack of snow, made for almost non-existent skiing at Georgian Peaks. Officials refused to give in, spending upwards of $3,000 hauling snow by the truckload in the days before the race. On the night before the event, chemical snow cement was used to harden the snow around the slalom gates, and snow was funnelled onto the course through coal chutes. Skiers, local workers, high school students and residents of Collingwood, Thornbury and Clarksburg pitched in to help pack and shovel snow.

The racers were discouraged by the condition of the trail, but on race day, the overnight rain had turned into freezing sleet and the course was lightning fast. By noon, the sun had melted some of the ice and turned the surrounding dirt into mud, making it difficult for skiers and spectators to maneuver.

First-person recollections recount the challenges faced by the first Bee Hive race organizers. In particular, Helen Gibson of Toronto, Dan Gibson’s widow, recalls: “The day before the race there was a disastrous thaw to bare grass. Snow was trucked in, and many helpers shoveled it onto the mountain to make a single track down the course, which froze overnight so the race could be held. (What) a miracle!” She was one of more than 9,000 enthusiastic spectators who lined the course to watch the event.  

Many others recall vivid memories of the first Bee Hive: the “February Thaw” and the difficult course conditions, the excitement of the race, billeting the racers, and the fine reception at the end of the day at a private home in Collingwood, where a select few had the rare opportunity to meet and mingle with the world’s skiing greats, including Eriksen, the star of the day.

Six More Years on the Circuit

The Second Annual Professional Invitation Bee Hive Giant Slalom was held at Mont Gabriel, in Québec`s Laurentian Mountains, on February 25, 1962. With the sponsor offering a larger total cash purse of $5,000, the event attracted even more pros. By changing the location, organizers hoped to promote professional ski racing across Canada and allow greater exposure for the sponsor. The race was held on O’Connell’s Slip (Scott’s Slip), a 4,000-foot-long trail that was reconstructed to make it steeper and tougher, and the resort used the event to promote its state-of-the-art grooming and snowmaking ability. Heli Schaller of Austria was the 1962 champion. 

Christian Pravda 

The Third Bee Hive challenge was held at Devil’s Glen, near Collingwood, on February 10, 1963. Twenty-five pros raced on a course set by Red McConville, the Devil’s Glen co-founder. The champion that year was Ernst Hinterseer of Austria, who had won slalom gold and GS bronze at the 1960 Olympics. Hinterseer returned to Devil’s Glen in 1964 to win the fourth Bee Hive.  This race included three of the world’s leading skiers: Egon Zimmermann, François Bonlieu and Pepi Stiegler, who won GS bronze and slalom gold that year at the Innsbruck Olympics. Other veteran professionals competing at Devil’s Glen included Anderl Molterer, Adrien Duvillard, Pepi Gramshammer, Christian Pravda and Heli Schaller.

The following year, the Bee Hive headed west for the fifth annual race held on March 13, 1965 at Mount Whitehorn in Lake Louise, Alberta. Twenty skiers competed for the trophy including five talented Canadians (Jean Carpentier, Bob Gilmour, Jim McConkey, Al Menzies and Lorne O’Connor). 

The first Bee Hive GS attracted some of the world’s top ski racers, including Othmar Schneider and Christian Pravada (pictured above).

They competed against other world-class racers, including Mike Wiegele, Toni Spiess, Christian Pravda, Pepi Gramshammer, Marvin Moriarty and that year’s Bee Hive champion, Adrien Duvillard from France. The Sixth Bee Hive was set in Eastern Canada, at Lac Beauport, Québec, on February 13, 1966, with 

Ernst Hinterseer capturing first place for the third time. He completed the two-run race with a total time of 2:34.366, and Gramshammer placed second with a time of 2:34.735. The race comprised 42 gates and covered 2,200 feet over a vertical drop of 700 feet.  Altogether, the race included 23 racers with 10 racers from Austria, 10 from Canada, two racers from France and one from the United States (Moriarty). 

According toCanadian Sport Monthly, much attention was placed on the timing mechanism used to clock the Sixth Bee Hive race: a new Heuer timer from Switzerland. “The device is so revolutionary that on the day before the race our officials were still trying to figure it out,” said sponsor Lorne Gray. It offered reliability and accuracy down to one-thousandth of a second.

The seventh and final Bee Hive was moved to Mont Tremblant, Québec, and held on March 12, 1967. Hias Leitner from Austria, silver medalist in the 1960 Winter Olympics, took first place. The film by Dan Gibson offers a record of the racers in action—some in slow motion to showcase their technique and ability—including Herman Goellner, Toni Spiess, Egon Zimmermann, Anderl Molterer and others. 

No one can say for certain why the Bee Hive series ended after a successful seven-year run. Some believe that competitors were asking for more than the sponsor could provide in an overall purse of $5,000, with $2,000 going to the race champion each year. Others say the Bee Hive had a good run and simply died a natural death. Regardless of the speculations, most agree that after Lorne Gray’s untimely death in 1969, the momentum was impossible to regain.

Caroline Forcier Holloway is an archivist, a former CSIA instructor and an avid skier. She lives in Ottawa, Ontario.

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