We ve spent the major part of our lives in the snow The thought of Americans at the top of the mountain is still heady and strange. Alpine skiing is baseball to the Swiss, the Scandinavians and the Liechtensteiners. In the U.S., it is barely lacrosse. Skiing is not a necessity in Lexington, Ky., but the reigning women's overall World Cup champion, Tamara McKinney, is from there. For three years, Phil Mahre of Yakima, Wash., has been the men's overall World Cup king, and his twin, Steve, holds the World Championship gold medal in the giant slalom. Skiers have been spotted in the Cascades before, but none like the Mahres (pronounced mares), who are leading the most promising U.S. team in history to the Winter Olympics in Sarajevo.
At Lake Placid, N.Y., four years ago, Phil took a silver medal in the slalom, just the third Alpine medal collected by an American male in ten Games over 44 years; none has ever won a gold. In 1980 he finished behind the regal Swede Ingemar Stenmark, who also won the giant slalom. Slaloming is weaving through a course described by slender flagpoles. The giant slalom combines all this sideways whooshing with the third Alpine skiing discipline, downhill racing. While Phil also braves the downhill, he has basically followed the concentrated swerves of Stenmark, who has made slalom skiing more than just a specialty.
To understand Phil Mahre and his chances, one must consider Stenmark, who at 27, not far from the peak of his game, has been banned from Sarajevo for having the bad taste not to cover up his amateur income. For him, ski racing has always been a cold business. Since moving to untaxing Monaco four years ago and taking out a commercial license, he has profited by millions at the cost of his Olympic eligibility.
A dozen years ago, the late Olympic blunderbuss Avery Brundage took such umbrage at the profit motives of skiers like Austrian Karl Schranz that he contemplated downgrading the Games' skiing events to mere world championships.
Brundage might barely have tolerated Phil Mahre, 26, who probably makes no more than a six-figure living, legally laundered through the U.S. ski team. Neither money nor celebrity inordinately concerns him. As for gold medals, he says, "I don't know. It's every ski racer's goal. It would be exciting to win one. But I can live without it. To me, walking in the opening ceremonies is the essence of the Olympics. Winning the gold or making a lot of money is not the reason I am in the sport."
Expectations around the Americans have changed. In Europe, no longer are they regarded as just "those nice kids from the U.S." At home, they are the favorites. "Everyone gets involved in an Olympic year," Mahre says with a touch of vinegar, "but we do this year in and year out. The suddenness of the interest is always a little annoying, and all these expectations are not too enjoyable."