Surrendering to the story of the Games.
I know. The last thing anyone needs right now is another story about Lindsey Vonn, or more speculation on what might happen if when she gets into the starting gate on Sunday. We’re in one of those moments where the entire Olympic event seems to be distilled to one story.
I was reminded of this when taking my dog to the vet yesterday. Our vet is the bomb, and totally pet-forward. Nevertheless his first question was not about my dog, but about my thoughts on Lindsey Vonn. Between feeling my dog’s belly, examining her ears, checking her eyes and taking her blood, we went back and forth on the latest LV updates and Instagram posts. In a way I think the distraction put my dog at ease, which got me thinking about the many ancillary effects of this one, big, all-consuming story.
It prompted me to assemble some thoughts from myself and others in case you, like the rest of humanity, just can’t get enough of it.
THE TRADE-OFF
First, I totally get that other athletes who have also worked doggedly to have their moment at the Olympics, are likely frustrated that Vonn is the only story we are hearing from the Games. I felt for Alice Robinson, whose very own press conference opened with a question to her about Lindsey Vonn. Finish line athlete interviews—the ones we see anyway– are more often about Vonn’s chances than about that athletes’ own performance.
Fans, too, are frustrated at what we’re NOT seeing. Just last night a friend said, “I know there are a ton of great stories out there, but we’re not hearing them.” To those athletes and fans, I remind you of the words of the great Roseanne Rosanna Danna: “It’s always something.” This is never truer than at the Olympics, where every press outlet is in a full-on sprint to capture eyeballs by finding THE story.
Have we forgotten about Nancy and Tonya in Albertville? Or Simone Biles in Tokyo? Or Mikaela Shiffrin in Beijing? It happens. A lot. There will always be some athlete drama that is stickiest and dominates the news cycle. This one is just a whole lot sticker, probably because there so many elements feeding into it.
We have the already unlikely comeback at age 41, the tragic accident, the controversial smack-talking, the seemingly impossible attempt to rise up and push on, and of course the raw star power that Vonn brings to it all. At least this story is centered on hope and grit vs. scandal or rivalry; and it’s putting a spotlight on the badassery of our own sport.
MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
Putting the storyline aside, I’ve taken a while to wrap my head around this culminating scenario. Having blown out my own ACL three times in three different downhill crashes, not once did I feel like I could walk up and down stairs, let alone even click into my skis without surgery and months of rehab. Most Olympic stories exaggerate and play up the stakes—every injury was “career-ending”, every setback insurmountable, etc..—to fit the hero narrative. It is rare that the real story is more impressive, even unfathomable, to those inside the sport.
In the past week scores of teammates, men and women, speed and tech, have checked in with their thoughts. We’ve all had injuries in our careers, and most have had multiple knee injuries. Not a one has contemplated getting back into an Olympic starting gate a week later… intending to win. “I don’t even know what I am looking at!” said one teammate of the Instagram posts showing Vonn back in the gym and then back on a downhill course.
Another teammate—the toughest, most stoic among us all—recalled trying to train on a blown-out knee and finding it unbearably painful, but added, “I am no Lindsey Vonn. Maybe she can gut it out.” Another put her thoughts more succinctly when describing her response to people who, just days ago, asked her if what Vonn was trying was possible. “I told them all, ‘No f’in way!’” As of today, all bets—and proclamations like those—are off. She finished her call by saying, “Keep this line open!” No doubt, the lines will be open and buzzing through the wee hours of Sunday morning.
THIS TOO WILL PASS
Another thing I’ve been thinking about with the unrelenting posts of athletes parading around in their monumental haul of Olympic swag, is how badly I feel for the athletes who didn’t make the team. The heartbreak of not making the cut is really no different from missing the states or the regionals or the championships at any level. It feels like the biggest thing in your world because at that time it is; but in 2 ½ ish weeks this will be over. The Olympics will be a bunch of records, reels and memories, always precious, but always in the rearview mirror.
The clothes? They are undeniably cool. Most of those, too, will have a short run and go into bins in the closet or the basement. There they will live for nearly 40 years (and counting), getting trotted out for theme parties. To everyone avoiding Instagram to stay sane, hang in there. You’ll get through this, and some of you we’ll get another chance. In the meantime, hopefully you can surrender and enjoy the show.
But back to THE STORY. How will it end? Can Lindsey Vonn overcome the steepest odds and get the fairytale ending the world is willing her to have? In her own hijacked press conference Robinson handled the question deftly, graciously and honestly: “If it was anyone else, I would probably say no chance, but because it’s Lindsey, I think she still is going to have a very good chance of doing well…yeah I would never count out Lindsey even without an ACL.”
I’ll close with the words of another teammate, who had a standard answer whenever asked to opine on results predictions: “That’s why they run the race!”