McKee's McThoughts: A cruel winter breeds success

I feel like the dentist in Marathon Man.
    There is a perversity to the pleasure I am taking in watching the snow melt. It is a torturous slow death of winter as the April sun shrinks back the massive banks that have encapsulated my cabin. I find myself smiling in an evil way and so I also feel guilty.
    Guilty because the successes of this winter I should hope would never end.
    I tell myself that the winter was long and cruel enough in itself to deserve being strung up on the rack and burned by long rays of sun. It did, after all, stretch itself out. I saw firsthand what the racing season did.
I FEEL LIKE the dentist in Marathon Man.
    There is a perversity to the pleasure I am taking in watching the snow melt. It is a torturous slow death of winter as the April sun shrinks back the massive banks that have encapsulated my cabin. I find myself smiling in an evil way and so I also feel guilty.
    Guilty because the successes of this winter I should hope would never end.
    I tell myself that the winter was long and cruel enough in itself to deserve being strung up on the rack and burned by long rays of sun. It did, after all, stretch itself out. I saw firsthand what the racing season did.
    Lindsey Vonn was a zombie at U.S. Alpine Nationals, a shell of the same woman we saw in Aspen in December. The winter had its way with her, and she with it. Actually I suppose the shell was at Sugarloaf, it was the heart and soul that had already retreated to a safe place for recovery. Even walking into a restaurant for dinner it was evident she was spent, and she said as much.
    She was in better shape than at the end of the 2006 season when she left Nationals at Sugarloaf “because I was falling down at the bottom of the course, and that’s just not safe.”
    I ask you young athletes to understand the commitment necessary to be World Cup champion. Young Mrs. Vonn gave every ounce she had in the last weeks of the World Cup tour. She left no reserves. By all means, dream of greatness, dream of glory. But recognize (and prepare for) the price and remember glory brings its own commitments.
    It was odd. The season had been a major up. It was considered the greatest U.S. World Cup season in history with five, count ’em, five World Cup trophies for the U.S. alpine team.   
    The national championships are usually the happiest of events. It’s the end of a long, always difficult season. One would have thought this season the title event would have been purely celebratory in nature.
    Maybe it was the weather, for one could take no pleasure in anything melting. It was beyond mid-winter stuff, it was mid-winter storm stuff and it definitely sucked. Maybe it was a decided lack of A-team participation (and McKudos to Lindsey for making the effort after a stint in NYC making the talk show rounds). Maybe it was the coaching staff leaving in droves: three head coaches — men’s, women’s and Bode Miller’s. Maybe it was something else altogether, but whatever the reason, there was a feeling of gloom in the air at Sugarloaf for the national title meet. And that seemed very out of place.
    Sugarloaf, whatever its faults may be, is generally a pretty happy place, at least in my experience. Any area that celebrates an old guy who skis every day (and Mr. Schipper, you have my undying admiration for the 24 seasons, 3,903 days your streak extended) is not one that takes itself too seriously. Like most any ski resort it’s a fun place in general. The sensation of gloom didn’t fit.
    It slowly came to the surface. As team administration talked about “raising the bar,” athletes talked about “needing to make the team.” A raised bar means a smaller team. A smaller team means somebody gets cut. Getting cut means the “free ride” is over. And that means making commitments beyond mere athletics.
    Getting cut is part of sports in general. It’s one of those hard lessons most everybody learns at some point of their life. Few who play sports never know of a visit from the Turk. It’s a harsh reality.
    We won’t take sides here. There is a perception the critical element in the decision process is financial. I wouldn’t be sure that’s a rightful perception. A factor, no doubt, as the dollar tanks and the costs of supporting dozens and dozens of competitors, coaches, techies and other assorted personnel around Europe escalate, but the U.S. team has been among the best funded out there for decades. It is possible a financial crunch is being felt, but compared to the competition it is more likely a crunch that ought to have impacted years ago. No, do not lay blame on finances. In fact, don’t lay blame at all.
    Concern is in order for borderline athletes. Our pool of racers is too small to watch it dissolve for any reason. But let’s return to the success of this season. It cannot be overstated. The 2008 season was a once-in-a-generation kind of performance. And aside from Bode, the team is young. It is relatively immature and playing a game which — in Europe — is all grown up and haired over. And our guys and gals, once they get to the European playing field, are upsetting the apple cart. They are reinventing how the game is played, taking dangerous new lines and using conditioning like the weapon it should be. They are poking the European powers where it hurts. Finding, like the dentist, a nice healthy nerve to pick at. And I find some pleasure in that, too.
    Should I be worried about me?