He could be gone
by now. Bode Miller could have been embarrassed by his 2006 Olympic medal
shutout, humbled by the bilious criticism heaped on him by the media for
partying too much while winning too little (and seeming to care even less) in
Turin, and chastened by a set of onerous rules imposed on the U.S. Ski Team
last summer specifically to address his behavior. He could have slunk back to
his native New Hampshire, the poster child for self-indulgence, never to be
seen or heard again. It would have been a logical finish to a skiing career
that has been as tumultuous as it has been transcendent.
Except that Miller does not abide by conventional logic and will accept no one
else's terms for his departure. "When I retire," he said last week,
"you'll know because one day I just won't come to races anymore."
That day has
clearly not arrived. Last Friday afternoon, on an icy mountainside above the
swank Colorado resort of Beaver Creek, Miller won the Birds of Prey Downhill,
centerpiece of the annual U.S. stop of the Alpine World Cup circuit. Attacking
a perilous course through light snowfall and shaking off a terrifying near
collision with a Slovenian coach who lost his footing and slid across the
course seconds in front of him, Miller won his 22nd career World Cup
race--second among U.S. skiers only to Phil Mahre's 27--by .15 of a second over
Didier Cuche of Switzerland.
Miller's
performance recalled his World Cup dominance of 2003 to '05, mixing
once-in-a-generation rhythm and vision with brazen tactics. "He looks like
he is concentrating on skiing again," said Michael Walchhofer of Austria,
silver medalist in the Turin Olympic downhill and fifth in that event at Beaver
Creek.
In a broader
sense Miller's victory was his first step from the shadows of last season, when
a solid performance by the U.S. men's team (a near-record 20 podium finishes by
four skiers) was blighted by a disappointing Olympics (one medal, by Ted Ligety
in the combined) and the ill will engendered by Miller's irreverence and his
very public carousing in the Olympic ski village.
Yet if it was
Bode who infected the team last season, it was Bode who began to cure it last
week. Rising U.S. racer Steve Nyman was third in the Beaver Creek downhill,
putting two American skiers on the podium for the first time since Miller and
the now-retired Daron Rahlves went one-two in last year's Beaver Creek giant
slalom. "Boy, our team needed this a lot," said Bill Marolt, CEO of the
U.S. Ski and Snowboard Association and Miller's foe in matters of conduct.
"Sometimes a little controversy isn't all bad; people get on edge and
respond."
Scarcely 24 hours
later Ligety finished third in the giant slalom, the fifth podium of his
ascendant career. Meanwhile, 1,400 miles away in frigid Lake Louise, Alberta,
U.S. women's racer Lindsey Kildow, 22, last seen picking herself up from a
horrific downhill crash at the Olympics to compete through the pain in four
more races, won a World Cup downhill, finished second in another and also
placed second in a Super G, a three-podium weekend that gave the U.S. six
podiums in three days, one of the best weekends in ski-team history.
The performances
could not have been more different from the U.S. showing in Turin, where Miller
was credited by the Associated Press with the killing quote, "I got to
party and socialize at an Olympic level."
On the day before
his Beaver Creek downhill win, Miller told SI that those words were
misinterpreted. This is not the first time he has made such a claim about
something he said, but as always, his explanation is intriguing. "The
results were a bummer--I felt I could have done better," said Miller.
"But how many times in my career have I had disappointing results? I've
skied 350 World Cup races [actually 245]. I felt like I put in a good effort in
the races. Outside of that, I had a phenomenal time at the Olympics. My family
and friends were there, and I got to spend time with them in an atmosphere that
was totally unique, and it was awesome. It was the best two weeks of my life,
literally."
It was not the
best two weeks of Marolt's life. "We've got a big constituent group that
follows us," he said in Beaver Creek. "It's corporate sponsors, it's
private donors, it's ski resorts, it's kids and their families. We need to put
the best possible face on the sport." Private donors supply more than 40%
of USSA's $24 million budget, and some of them were embarrassed by Miller (and
to a lesser degree, by freestyle skier Jeret Peterson, who was removed from the
Games after getting involved in a fistfight).
Hence, last
summer USSA team members were ordered to sign an agreement requiring them to
stay in designated team hotels during training and competition, to not consume
alcoholic beverages at official team functions, and to not drink alcoholic
beverages in the same establishments as team coaches and staff. There was
little doubt that the rules were aimed at Miller, who has traveled the European
circuit for three years in a motor home and makes no secret of his taste for
the nightlife. The men's ski team at first balked at the rules. Ligety recalls
hearing team officials define the word integrity as "something like
'unwavering adherence'" to team policies. (The actual definition in USSA
documents is "steadfast, incorruptible.") Ligety's reaction: "I
thought, Oooooh-kay, what is this, Soviet Russia?" Eventually all team
members signed, but most remain unhappy with what they perceive as the Bode
Rules.