Executive Editor Dennis Sodomka is in Nagano covering the Winter Olympic Games.

Olympic high points more than winning medals

Web posted February 15, 1998

By Dennis Sodomka
Columnist

NAGANO -- There comes a low point in any long trip, or any extended business project where you wonder, ``Just what the heck am I doing?''

That point came this week when I was standing in the pouring rain for three hours trying to interview competitors in the snowboard halfpipe. My first mistake was in even deciding to cover this event.

I didn't realize how much of a traditionalist I have become, but watching these people pop in and out of a snow-filled trough like crazed jacks- (or jills-) in-the-box isn't my idea of a great Olympic moment. There is no thrill of victory, no agony of defeat.

The attitude of everyone in the event seemed the same: ``Hey, man, it was just another cool ride. Like, so what's the big deal about the Olympics?''

The athletes' conversations kept coming back to marijuana, or more specifically, should smoking marijuana have cost a Canadian snowboarder the gold medal he had won a few days before. The consensus seemed to be that ``whoa, the dude ought to be able to do whatever he wants.''

He got the medal back, but the whole episode seemed ridiculous.

I could go on about that all day, but I know what you're thinking. My company sent me to Japan and life's hard all over, right? You don't want to hear it.

Well, the low point was brief. The week got better the next day when I hit one of the high spots covering men's doubles luge. It's not your common, everyday household sport in the United States, but it's still pretty neat.

You lie on your back on a tiny sled with razor-sharp runners and go flying down an icy track at up to 80 mph. In doubles, one man lies on top of the other, so it doesn't really look all that comfortable. Oh, there are no brakes, and you sort of steer with your shoulders and your feet.

Americans have never won an Olympic medal in the luge. Until this week. Luge has been an Olympic sport since 1964 and Americans have been shut out until now.

Two American teams stunned the luge world by winning silver and bronze medals. In races that are decided by hundredths of seconds it is difficult for most countries to win one medal, let alone two.

I watched at the finish line as these four grown men jumped up and down, whooping and hollering, pumping their fists into the air. They looked like little boys who had just taken someone's dare and survived the ride down dead man's hill. John Elway couldn't have felt any better.

These men won't get rich. There will be no big contracts. If you know their names now you'll forget them in a month. But after years of sacrifice, of daily training, of putting their lives on hold, they had achieved a very difficult goal.

Too many of us never set worthwhile goals, much less sacrifice anything to try to achieve them. These guys did it to prove something to themselves and to the world, not for the recognition.

``We're not Alberto Tombas here in doubles luge,'' said Gordy Sheer, who won a silver medal. ``Or Michael Jordans for that matter.''

``It's all about doing your best and if people aren't noticing, it doesn't matter so much,'' said Brian Martin, a bronze medalist. ``Everybody likes to pull for a winner. Maybe this will help our sport.''

I also met another bright young man named Andy Erickson who has chosen an even more obscure sport, biathlon. He has had to put his life on hold while he tries to do for biathlon what the doubles teams have done for luge. After three years he sees some improvement, but he doesn't really expect a breakthrough until 2002 in Salt Lake City.

He works all day running, shooting, skiing and lifting weights. He tries to take some college courses when he can, but he's put the biathlon team first in his life for now.

Even if Erickson does someday become the first U.S. medalist in biathlon, he'll never get rich from it. He's doing it for the love of sport and to test himself.

Every time I'm around these Olympians I get the same feeling of respect and appreciation for what they have gone through to get to the top of their sport.

Sure, I'd like to see the United States win more medals, but I have the same high regard for those who have struggled in obscurity as I do for those who have found the spotlight.

It's all about doing your best. That's the reward. Not whether people notice you.