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Saalbach V 1 Had Its Share of Drama

As the 2025 World Champs in Saalbach kick off, I keep going back to memories from my own World Champs there. It’s a long way from 1991, and the US team didn’t nab any titles or medals, but the champs were nonetheless memorable. They were a strange event for many athletes and especially those on the US Ski Team. Here’s why:

PLAN A

On January 17, the US Ski Team men and women were competing in the last races before the World Championships that would kick off on January 22^nd in Saalbach. The men were in Wengen, SUI, and the women in Meribel, FRA. The women’s races were the official “Pre Olympics” on the courses that we would run the following year at the 1992 Olympics.

We were bunked in at a fancy hotel run by a British man who was Hugh Hefner’s Doppelganger. He roamed the hotel in his smoking jacket, often with cocktail in hand. Like most hoteliers of fancy hotels, “Hef” was not super thrilled with our army of skis and bags and people; with the athletes wandering around in sweats, jumping rope and doing stomach routines in the hallways; with the techs coopting the basement for a ski room; with the way we generally did not adhere to norms of the usual five star holiday clientele. But he liked having an audience, new drinking buddies, and the bill that would be entirely covered by the World Cup organizing committee, so he warmed to us.

At the time none of us was paying much attention to whatever the International Herald Tribune (our only regular news source) reported about the unrest in the Middle East. Except for my teammate Heidi Voelker, whose brother was deployed there, Kuwait and Iraq felt a world away from all things ski racing.

THE WAKE-UP CALL

When we went to bed that night, we were thinking about how to approach the brand new DH course or worrying about qualifying for the upcoming World Championships. That all changed when we were awoken at 3 am by our coach, Chris Poletis. He was calmly going room to room with a version of the same message: “Hey girls. Wake up. It’s no big deal and stay calm but pack up your things and get them in the van as soon as possible. We’re heading home and we have to get to the airport asap.”

Being used to changes of plans, we did what we were told, and everyone was remarkably calm. That is, until Chris made his way to the sports psychologist, who happened to be traveling with us for that race. He knocked on the door, and said his by now well-rehearsed message.   “WAR?!?!?!?!” screetched down the hall, as our would-be mental guide erupted in panic. Cortisol levels spiked throughout Hef’s Palace.

Chris then made his way back and forth between rooms to make sure everyone was up and moving. As we mashed clothes into bags he told us as much as he knew– something about bombs and war and a US led strike. We pieced together that the US had launched an attack in Kuwait and that someone above everyone’s pay grade was ordering us to go home.

THE ESCAPE

Somehow, within an hour, we had everything packed in vans and were pulling away from the hotel, which was now lit up like a Christmas tree, or a beacon, or a target. Hef stood on his balcony in his silk bathrobe, CNN blaring on the TV behind him. He hoisted something—a tumbler of scotch?—towards us and yelled in a slurred loop: “It’s over! You bombed the hell out of them! You’ve already won! You might as well stay!” Pause, hoist, swig. “It’s over! You bombed the hell out of them…”

We pulled out and made our way to the closest airport, in our case Geneva. Turning on the radio, we found stations in French and English reporting on the bombing. One of them mentioned that the US Ski Teams were leaving Europe immediately to fly home. The announcement made Hugh Hefner’s hotel on a remote Savoie hillside feel a whole lot safer than traveling to major international airports with USA emblazoned on our clothing and luggage.

The same scenario played out with the men’s team in Wengen, and the tech women who were getting a few days to recharge in the Canary Islands before the World Champs. This was well before cell phones and Internet, so none us connected with each other until we made it home. For those of us who lived in California that was a 20-hour journey.

THE U TURN

Once home, Paul Major, our head coach, called us each individually and did his best to steer us towards safety, listing the dire risks of international travel and of competing in a high profile competition. It was years before I had any appreciation for the line he was walking, trying to sincerely pose the potential danger of the situation as any contest to our desire to compete. After the spiel, he asked if we still wanted to go back and compete at the Worlds and each of us had the answer you would expect from young athletes: “Hell yes!”

After some consideration of canceling the event entirely, the FIS decided the show would go on, though without an Opening Ceremony. We’d already missed the men’s SL and Super G, but if we did a U turn we could catch everything else. So, after the time it took to do a load of laundry, we trekked all the way back to Zurich, where we were greeted with zero fanfare and none of the promised security detail. From there, it was back in the vans to Saalbach, where guards armed with machine guns greeted us at our hotel.

The record books tell the story of how well we did at those champs. Not very. Going into the biggest competition of the season after 40 hours of travel meant we were nowhere near peak performance. Off-peak would have to be good enough. We didn’t do too badly. Four of us managed top ten finishes, and nobody got hurt. It was gorgeous—warm and sunny every day, and when we did go out at night we had body guards to protect us from whatever might lurk in the mean streets of Salzburger Land.

THE BIG PICTURE

Saalbach brings back so many funny memories, but also tragic ones, of brilliant athletes who left us to soon. The US men vacated Wengen the day before the final training day of the DH in Wengen. On that run, Austrian Gernod Reinstadler crashed near the finish and lost his life. That tragedy weighed on everyone in Saalbach. But then, as athletics do, the competitions provided stories that captivated athletes and fans alike, provided the bright spots that keep us moving forward and coming back for more.

In the finish corral after my Super G run, I remember watching Ulrike Maier come down three racers later and smoke me, then celebrate with her daughter Melanie. Maier had successfully defended her title from Vail in ’89, when she had been (we learned later) pregnant with Melanie.

I remember watching Austrian Rudi Nierlich defend his title in the GS, in his signature, relaxed style; and 20-year-old rising US star Jeremy Nobis blow up at the bottom of the second run after being a second ahead at the intermediate. He was “putting it all on red” as was his style.

Three months later, Nierlich would die in a car accident. Three years later, Maier would die in a DH accident. Nobis, who went on to become a legend in big mountain skiing, passed away more recently, in 2023, at age 52. Saalbach reminds me of all those talents, and makes me grateful to have seen them on that stage, in their primes.

It also reminds me what a rare gift it is to see athletes perform in their primes. Heck, it’s a gift to be able to compete on any stage in our primes, even off-peak. As these World Champs get going, and in every ski race I have the privilege to watch this year, I look forward to seeing whatever drama unfolds and whoever emerges. Big dogs, middle dogs, underdogs—I’ll take the excitement from whoever goes big and goes down swinging. I hope you all enjoy the show!

THE WAY WE WERE, AND WATCHED,

For a trip down memory lane watch the Men’s GS from Saalbach here. Nobis is at 8:05 and Nierlich at 21:30

And see Ulrike Maier in the Women’s Super G here, at 2:20

Huge thanks to Heidi Voelker Brennwald and Hilary Lindh for digging up pictures!