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

Hermann still has the hunger

Web posted February 17, 1998

 Return to Nagano@ugusta

By Dennis Sodomka
Morris News Service

NAGANO - Often the difference between an Olympic medal and an Olympic memory is desire. Whoever wants it most wins the medal.

If you haven't won a medal, you want it. You want it so bad it's all you can think about. You're hungry.

That's Hermann Maier, the Austrian superman of the slopes. Remember his rocket launch over the downhill course on Friday? That film may be played more than the one of that poor guy who fell off the ski jump they used to play for the agony of defeat on ABC's Wide World of Sports. With all their regulations I'm surprised the Japanese didn't ticket him for flying without a license.

Maier tried to shake off the crash, act like it didn't do any damage. But it banged up his left shoulder and right knee bad enough that he needed pain killers before his next race. Did he think about not racing again, to give his body time to heal. Nah.

Not the Herminator.

You see, he didn't have his gold medal yet, and everyone in the world expected him to own these Olympics. He has shredded the competition on the World Cup circuit this year, and to leave Nagano without a medal would be unthinkable.

"After the crash, it was very hard for me,'' said Maier. "But I was so dominant in the World Cup in super G that I thought I must do it.

To win the gold medal, the pressure was big enough.''

So the former bricklayer who was kicked out of ski school at 15 because he was too wimpy, strapped on the skis, got something to dull the ache in his knee and he did it. He won the super G, burying the field by a half second, which is huge in a race often decided by hundreths of a second. Maier beat the co-silver medalists by .61 seconds. The next seven racers were within .54 seconds of each other.

That's why he is the Herminator.

On the other hand, if you have already won an Olympic medal, especially a gold medal, the pressure is off. You probably have wrapped up the book deal, the visit to Letterman or Leno, the cereal box and maybe even a soup label.

That's why in the Winter Olympics you don't see many multiple medal winners or repeat Olympic gold medalists. (Sports like luge, cross-country skiing and biathlon don't count because those folks are already way out on the edge. They're not governed by the same forces of the universe that control the rest of us.)

If you've already got your gold, why risk your body for another one?

That was Picabo Street, who raced minutes after Maier got his gold.

She has a downhill silver medal from Lillehammer in 1994 and a super G gold this year. She fell in her last race before the Olympics, and after her gold medal she was thinking about the crash.

"I'm not looking for excuses,'' said Street right after the downhill Monday. "I skied like a pansy a little bit. I'd rather end up fourth (at the time) and stand here to talk to you than have them peel me out of the fence. That's something that unfortunately can happen real easily today.

"I didn't push the envelope too much today because I want to finish the rest of the season.''

It's not like she tanked the race. She was only .65 seconds behind the leader, good enough for sixth place. She survived to go on her victory tour. That doesn't make her a bad person. It makes her human. When you have more to risk, it's harder to be bold and daring.

Remember Tommy Moe. He had never won an international ski race before he won the men's downhill and took a silver in super G in Lillehammer and became an instant celebrity. He hasn't done much since, but he said he met a lot of nice people and made some good money.

He's not hungry. He finished 8th in the super G and 12th in the downhill this year.

Hermann Maier's still hungry. For years he tried to make the powerhouse Austrian ski team without success. So he became a bricklayer and practiced skiing on his own. He finally made the team, and this season he has destroyed everyone, winning nine races. But he remembers laying those bricks.

After winning the gold medal he was asked if he remembered when he laid his last brick.

Without hesitation he shot back, "Twenty-six October, 1995.'' Then after a slight pause he said, "3 p.m.''

I think Hermann still has a deep hunger.