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Stock started ninth in a race that any one of four or five men could have taken. The time to beat was the 1:47.13 set by Italy's Herbert Plank. With four fast jolts of his ski poles, Stock propelled himself out of the starting gate and launched into the knifing and chittering switchback turns at the course's top. He shot through them with a wildly debonair angling, self-assured, and then, as the course got straighter and rougher, he bounced several times violently for an instant as if he had lost everything, his limbs doing minute, chaotic leaps—roughly the effect of a man being electrocuted while descending on a roller coaster. Once or twice his ski tips flipped up anarchically for a nanosecond in the direction of his nose. With his strong, gyroscopic instincts, Stock disciplined those little apocalypses and hurtled on, his body tucked into a bullet, a jaunty and maniacal capsule rocketing down the mountainside.
At the finish, Stock looked back up at the mountain and shook his head, again and again. He was not confident, although his time of 1:45.5 was more than a second faster than Italy's Plank. As the moments passed, more skiers descended; Stock kept his eyes fixed upon the electronic Scoreboard to watch their clockings. Switzerland's Peter Mueller, the top downhill man in the 1979 World Cup and one of the favorites at Lake Placid, came in more than a second slower than Stock; he would place fourth. The Austrian Wirnsberger finished at 1:46.12, good enough for the silver. Canada's Steve Podborski clocked in at 1:46.62, fast enough for the bronze. As racer after racer failed to break Stock's time, a small group of Austrian spectators outside the finish area began to sing Immer Wieder Austria (Again and Again Austria). When he had finally won, the Austrian team officials lifted Stock upon their shoulders, and he held his ski poles high in grinning triumph.
Back home in the village of Finkenberg (pop. 1,200), Stock's family had not laid in any champagne because they thought it would bring their racer bad luck. But Wilhelm Haag, the mayor and principal of the primary school, had thoughtfully procured a supply of fireworks; liquor was found, and the celebration went on and on.
After his victory, Stock insisted that the prerace bloodletting had not disturbed him. Said he amiably: "I am a big fighter. I have been fighting since I was a kid. I had to fight to come back from my injury. I had to fight to get into the race."
The gold medal that Stock takes back to the Ziller Valley will be accompanied by some crasser rewards. His triumph on Whiteface Mountain should be worth between $50,000 and $100,000 a year for endorsing skiing equipment—not bad for an amateur.