Page 141 - 1989

TENSION
As the downhillers travel to the top of the
steep, double diamonds hills, you can feel their concentration within the gondola.
At the top of the course, workers are mak- ing sure everything is in tip-top shape to start the racers.
The racers arrive up top with their four or five pairs of downhill skis and their techni- cians. The technicians check the bindings before the racers plummet to the bottom. The bindings get slammed, twisted and if they don't hold the racer in, they get thrown away!
Nobody is talking . . . all are concentrating for the quick two minutes, going over speeds of 131 km/h. (This is faster than you can drive your car.) Each person is doing their own stretches in their 'good luck' order, hoping for gold at the bottom!
Tension fills the air as the racers stretch and the crowd walks up the hill to watch these racers blurr by them.
Timers all synchronized, the race referee calls out, "First fifteen racers get ready."
Last minute details are made, cleaning goggles, brushing skis and praying.
"Peter Mueller in the gate, please," yells the race organizer.
Peter gets in the gate, not saying a word to fellow teammates, but just looking ahead. Through his mind, he is thinking positively. Gold- make it a good run- win!
The clock ticks noisily away as Mueller
advances to the start wand.
"Five, four, three, two, one, he's gone,"
says the starter.
Peter has a good start as he cranks his
first turn down the steep, icy hill. (Nothing close to anything in Ontario.) You can see the skis twisting and vibrating as Peter flies by. The chattering of the skis really tells you that the course is boiler plate hard, or should I say bullet-proof. The crowd cheers and hollers at him to go faster, go all out for gold.
Mueller is off the pitch so he has pretty well made it to the finish. As he soars over fifty metres in his tuck, he's staying very tight and coming out just for the landing. If he landed on the tails of the skis, they would shatter into pieces as he hits the compres- sion just after the jump. But Mueller takes it perfectly, no problem at all.
He carves his turns with ease, making sure all of his weight is on the downhill ski, not edging too much or too hard, but just enough to make him turn through the next turn.
As Peter Mueller crosses the finish line, the crowd lets out a big cheer.
He would have been in first place until Number Fourteen, Primin Zurbriggen, came down and defeated Mueller by half a second.
-Rob Thorburn
- Gold Medal for Descriptive
Writing
THE GREA TEST CHAMPION
I stand,
Cold, as the wind blasts away the last breath
of heat from my body,
Shivering on the summit of this colossal mountain.
The ridge is still and unmoving
But the wind whispers its sweet challenge to me And once again I must obey its demands.
I wait;
And I wait until I hear the silent echo of her Gold promises.
Gold that the mountain is unwilling to yield to Even the Greatest of Champions.
When my race with the mountain begins, the wind Taunts me with her relentless laughter.
She sighs to me that I am bound by Bronze or Tied with Silver, that the mountain will never Yield its Gold to me.
But the wind shivers as I trace down its Majestic sides, and I remember something that The wind had forgotten.
That the mountain is cold and still; but I am Nimble, and I burn with the fire of Gold.
And the wind stops her laughing as she watches The mountain yield its Gold to me,
The Greatest Champion.
- Jen Quinn
- Gold Medal for Poetry
Memories
There he was, sitting in the little cabin at the beginning of the
run. This man was Pierre, the best luge rider in all of France. The Olympian was still trying to get over the fact that he was here, representing his country at the Olympics.
"No, it can't be." Pierre thought to himself, "surely there must be a better man in France."
Pierre started to think about all the things that helped him. He remembered his love of tobogganing as a child and how he always won races against his friends. His uncle was the first per- son to introduce him to the luge and Pierre loved it ever since.
Pierre began to think back to his starting days as a luge rider when he was eighteen. His coach always told him that he was good and showed promise.
"Me?" Pierre thought, "can't be me, I'm not that good." But one day an official came up to him and told him to get ready for the Olympics. Pierre remembered how proud his parents were and how they boasted and bragged about "their little boy".
Then Pierre remembered his arrival in the strange country. He remembered his first fear of not being able to understand anybody because he couldn't speak the languages here and how his appearance was letting down his country. His fears soon melted away at the opening ceremonies when the crowd warmly greeted his country.
Pierre was totally suprised at the hospitality of the people here. He had a good room in the motel at a discount rate and free transportation to the hill and back. Everybody was kind to each other and him.
As he was going over all of his memories someone said "Pierre Baptiste to the gate please."
"Well." He thought, "this is my moment of glory."
As he walked to the starting gate a teammate wished him good luck. He set his sled down and got on it. He was ready to become an Olympian.
- Stephen Crowe
- Gold Medal for Narrative Writing
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