For the Love of the Game

 

Jessie Diggins crossing the 10k finish line

After a week of binge watching the Olympics and fruitlessly attempting to get Noah Kahan tickets, we headed out to the slopes. Actually the flats of the Weston Ski Track. Plenty of snow, and temperatures finally above zero, it was perfect, plus we’d been inspired by the skiers, from Lindsey Vonn’s return and fall and Breezy Johnson’s win in the downhill on Sunday, to Jessie Diggins’ gritty bronze finish in the 10k cross country race on Thursday despite bruised ribs, to Federica  “the tiger” Brignone’s miraculous comeback in the Super G for Italy, it was all spectacular.

 

The thing about Lindsey Vonn is that she not only believed she could do it, she made us believe too. I believed. Getting her right arm hooked on a gate? Ninety nine times out of a hundred, that doesn’t happen. But it’s just a testament to how aggressively she was attacking the course. If you watched the men’s downhill, they’re all scraping by the gates, cutting those turns just that sharp.

 

It reminded me of the 1994 winter Olympics when Diann Roffe-Steinrotter won gold in the Super G. When writing my first book (Go Forward, Support! The Rugby of Life), I was fortunate to have the chance to talk to Diann about just the all-out nature of the sport. In newspapers, she had been quoted as saying:

 

“The Olympics is just one day, one hill, 1 ½ minutes in your life – whoever shakes and bakes the best out there is going to win it.”

 

She brought considerable experience to the race, having skied and inspected numerous courses over her 11-year career, and also had plenty of reasons to consider not skiing, such as knee surgery in 1986. And the death of her close friend Ulrike Maier from Austria in a skiing accident just three weeks before the Olympics.

 

“Ulrike and I were very close friends. Every time I step into my skis, I think about her. Her accident was just a matter of fate, but I think if she were up there today watching, she was saying to all the racers, ‘Just point them downhill and go for it.”

 

I think Ulrike must be looking down on the competitors this year and just smiling and cheering them all on.

 

Watching the 10k cross country race, the first time I saw Jessie Diggins skiing, what did I say? “She’s not wearing a hat?” Oh my God, I am turning into my mother. My poor dear Mom who would drive me to the sledding hill at the golf course when I was a kid. In Illinois. And she let me buy one of those early-version Skifer snowboards, with just a rope to hang onto, and staples on the board for friction (since there were no boot clips or bindings) to keep your feet on. They did not. I did not stay on the Skifer.

This is EXACTLY what mine looked like!

I went on a class ski trip to the mountains of Wisconsin (or was it Michigan), and got some very bad advice: just snowplow down a black diamond slope. I remember going directly to the ski house afterwards to return my skis, dragging behind me as I walked. The very best part of that trip was meeting my friend, T, who would become a life-long friend, as we traced our steps from Springfield, Illinois to Boston, New Jersey, and Vermont.

 

Skiing is nuts. Rugby at least is played on a level, flat grassy field. I had tried cross country skiing in college, but never had the benefit of nice neat tracks already made in the snow. So, it was a lot of work. May as well have been jogging. The skis now – so slippery!

 

We go to start down one of the trails, and there’s a very slight decline, and I’m sliding down, down, down, just staying upright, until I come to rest at the far end of the wide expanse I’d just crossed. “I think I’ll ski this track over here!” I yell to Susan, who has wisely put on snowshoes. Like I meant to do this.

 

Somehow we make our way around the course, and we’re almost back to the ski house, and now there is another hill ahead of me, maybe a six-foot drop over one hundred feet of run. I put my skis in the tracks, beat my chest a few times (I saw one of the snowboarders do that, I think) and try to relax, bend my knees, and focus on the line ahead and keeping my balance. And I do it! Whoosh! But all the time thinking, there’s like 50-50 odds I wind up on a stretcher.

 

Okay, this is the hill, and I know it doesn't look like much, but it was terrifying!

So, the Olympics have provided a lot of inspiration – to take irresponsible risks. How do you stop when you’re going down a slope on cross-country skis? Guess that would’ve been a good thing to Google ahead of time. Or maybe we could sign up for lessons next week. Who knows.

 

But the other inspiration the Olympics have offered is the spirit of Olympism – see Hailey Swirbul’s Substack post for more on that topic.

 

Link: https://haileyswirbul.substack.com/p/the-olympic-spirit

 

 

And the team spirit of camaraderie, just wanting everyone to do their best. One of the most touching moments to me, was when Jessie’s teammate, Hailey, goes to help her after the 10k race, so gently undoing her skis and poles, helping her up and holding her in a hug. It is such a tender moment. Race done, all left out on the course, having given it all, all for the love of the sport, and believing in each other. This, to me, is the winningest moment of the games.

 

There are so many stories of inspiration.

 

Figure skater Maxim Naumov somehow going on, despite the loss of both his parents, Vadim Naumov and Evgenia Shishkova, as well as many other members of the Boston skating community in the tragic plane crash over the Potomac River last January, a needless tragedy. And yet Maxim is going on. Vadim and Evgenia are surely with him too.

 

Something his parents told him: “Everything is practice until the Olympics.”

 

In a similar way, for writers, everything is gathering material, until the writing begins.

 

This is a post for everyone, to play for the love of the game. The very definition of the word, amateur, derives from the Latin, amare, meaning “to love.”

 

Love, and love well, and believe in each other.

 

Happy Valentines Day!

 

 

Post-Script:

Okay, I have to address the elephant in the room: the Super Bowl. As they say in sports, no one wins second place. It always feels like losing. But the Patriots, in my opinion, did well just making it to the Super Bowl this year, and kudos to Coach Vrabel, on creating such an esprit d’ corps within the team in his first year.

On our way out of the Weston ski track, we see a flyer, and highlighted is Julia Kern’s name – she’s from Waltham! How cool, we were skiing where maybe Julia trained or learned to ski. Who knows where we’ll be in four years.

Wishing Lindsey Vonn a smooth and speedy recovery. If you need any books to read, just give a shout.

Actually, if anyone wants copies of my books, they’re both on Amazon, but for the rugby book, just reach out in a comment, and I’ll send you a copy. It will be simpler.

The Happy Clam is available to bookstores via Ingram, and online also via Bookshop.org.

 

References:

 

© 2026 Rosemary A. Schmidt

Rose Schmidt is the author of The Happy Clam (© 2020), and Go Forward, Support! The Rugby of Life (© 2004), both published by Gainline Press. The views expressed herein are solely those of the author, and do not represent the views of any other agency or organization. Use of individual quotes with proper citation and attribution, within the limits of fair use, is permitted. If you would like to request permission to use or reprint any of the content on the site, please contact me.