One Nation, Under God

Hold my beer as I head down hill

I can finally watch the Olympics in peace.

There was a time, however, when I saw the winter games as a challenge.

My first winter in Montana was 1976. I was living in Cooke City, didn’t have much money, and didn’t have any work.

But I did have a television set that picked up two channels, and one of them carried the Winter Olympics from Innsbruck, Austria. I also had a pair of skis and a mountain out my back door.

My friend Steve and I had built a short downhill course on the slope above the cabin and after watching Franz Klammer on the tube, we would head outside, climb the hill and race.

The course consisted of two parallel tracks that crossed about halfway down, and if the race was close, there was usually a collision at the intersection. It was like figure-eight racing on skis.

The turns on the course got wider as the games progressed. By the time the closing ceremonies arrived, the corners had become icy flats that we slid across sideways, our skis chattering on the ice.

We were on cross-country skis with clamp-down cable bindings so we could use our hiking boots. Steve’s cable broke at some time during our weeks-long competition and he replaced it with a coathanger. Later that winter he crashed on a ski outing and the coathanger binding didn’t release. He regrets that decision to this day, especially when his knee aches.

There was a jump on the course right before the finish line between my woodpile and the neighbor’s cabin. We’d often reach it at the same time, ski poles flailing at each other in an effort to gain an advantage.

There were a lot of hold-my-beer-and-watch-this moments.

These days I’m content to sit next to the fireplace and doze between Olympic events instead of trying to replicate them. But mixed pairs curling has certainly captured my interest. There’s something very special about a sport where men yell at women to sweep faster.

Unfortunately, my wife has no interest in curling or sweeping or me yelling at her.

While the winter games no longer fuel my competitive fantasies, they do help pass the time. It was 38 below up here yesterday. I need the distraction of a triple Salchow to take my mind off the cold.

And you know something? It doesn’t look that hard. Hold my beer for a second, will you?

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected].

 

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