SNOWBASIN — For a few moments, it seemed Picabo Street would do it again. As though she might chase away the surgical scars on her legs and scare away the toughest parts of the race. A stir of anticipation rose from the crowd.
"She's ahead!" someone shouted.
She was indeed ahead of the leader, France's Carole Montillet, and charging hard. Past Keyhole and across Glacier Ridge, never a thought of fear. Through the first two intervals, it was a story for the ages: PICABO OVERCOMES INJURY, CLAIMS GOLD AT HOME!
Her gold medal in the super-G in the 1998 Nagano Olympics had been a gift. But the downhill was her passion. As it turned out, she left Japan happy but incomplete. This, then, would be her chance to get the downhill gold.
In many ways, Tuesday's competition was custom-made for Street. It was a day with a story to be told. She was at home in Utah, where she had planned and executed much of her comeback from serious injury. In those early moments Tuesday, she looked able.
"I had one going on," she said.
But soon trouble came. By the third interval she began losing speed where the afternoon snow had begun to warm. It was the same spot where others had failed. Quickly, she fell off the lead. She finished in 16th place, far from the winning time she had wanted — but fast enough for peace of mind. That's because she had come home.
Early in her career, she had fantasized of making the Olympic team, which she did in 1994, winning a downhill silver medal. By 1998 she had readjusted her goals, setting them on gold — which she won. By the time the Salt Lake Olympics arrived, she was back where she started, hoping for gold but desperate to compete in America, for America.
"For me, the last four years I have been dreaming of coming in and seeing the flags and hearing the crowd roar, all the kids' faces painted, and to be able to end my career here, in the USA, and to hear everyone cheering louder for me than anyone else," she said.
Thus, the curtain dropped on one of the nation's most beloved skiers. After the race, she reiterated her promise to retire after the 2002 Olympics. No more knots in her stomach, waiting to see if the race will go on. No more calling home at 4 a.m. to tell her parents she isn't hurt. Now she plans to spend her time heli-skiing in the back country or, as she puts it, "sliding," rather than hurtling down hills.
The final chapter wasn't one to fit snugly in the fairy tale books. Rather, it was a more pragmatic and meaningful tale. When she slammed into a fence at Crans Montana, Switzerland, in 1998, her career should have ended. She had shattered her left femur and shredded her right knee.
Later, in her dreams, she would be skiing fast but couldn't handle the terrain; she could feel herself losing control. She would awaken midway through the race, helpless and confused, unable to correct the flaws — an incomplete run.
She had to finish the run.
Her final race didn't come easily. After two delays, the event was postponed on Monday, as winds buffeted the starting point. Tuesday didn't begin much better. The 10 a.m. start was moved to 11, then noon.
But at last the winds abated and the race began. A capacity crowd packed the stands, many carrying signs like the ones saying, "Go, Picabo, we love you!" and "Picabo's Street."
When she dropped into view down the final stretch, the crowd screamed as though she had won. Upon finishing, she bowed in disappointment over not winning. But then the people's Picabo took over, waving both hands at the crowd and blowing a kiss.
In the end, it was what she had come for.
"My dream was to cross the finish line and hear 40,000 Americans cheering for me. It was worth it," she said.
She had fought back her demons. She had played to home crowd. She had finished upright, all in one piece.
Sometimes, just finishing is good enough.
E-mail: rock@desnews.com