Chapter 98: Direct From Salzburg

They had a morning practice the next day. They blew it off. They had told June and Kathy--both of whom were there with them--that they were going to. "We're going to watch downhill skiing. We'll see you at the afternoon practice!"

"Guys..." Kathy started.

"Hey, it's the Olympics," Sophia told them. "Screw it. We're trained, this practice isn't on the main ice, and Warren loves downhill skiing. See you!"

They found a spot at the end of the hill. To their amusement, they found themselves surrounded by Austrians. In fact, they found themselves in the midst of a bunch of rabid Gerhard Weichenbauer fans. Weichenbauer was the world's number one ranked downhiller. And, there they were, in their "USA" coats, waving tiny American flags.

"Was? Americans?" one of them asked a friend.

"Hey, are you lost?" the friend asked Warren and Sophia.

"Probably," Sophia laughed. "We just wanted to get a good seat."

"I see your coats. Are you athletes?"

"Yes, we're ice dancers," Sophia told him.

"We skipped practice to come watch some skiing," Warren laughed.

"Ah. Is gut. Austrian skiers are the best, yes?"

"Yes," Warren laughed. "Alan Zimmer's been skiing well lately, though."

"Ja, he has. Got fourth in Innsbruck. I'm Otto, this is Wilhelm."

"I'm Warren, this is Sophia."

"You stay with us, ja, see skiing with Austrians?"

"Yeah," said Sophia, "It'll be fun. As long as you don't mind us cheering for Alan Zimmer."

"Sure," Otto said, "for silver or bronze!"

Sophia and Warren stayed with the Austrian ski fanatics, and Sophia was right--they had a blast. One of the Austrians had brought some sort of grill, and, the next thing they knew, they each had a bratwurst in their hands. Then they had a beer in the other hand. And the race was about to start, so the Austrians were getting rowdy.

The first skier was a Swiss. He fell. The predominantly Swiss crowd groaned, but the Austrians delighted in it.

"We don't hate the Swiss, except in skiing," Otto told them with a smile.

A couple of other skiers came down, then the first Austrian--Ingo Buell. "He's a youngster," Otto told Warren and Sophia, "new to the national team."

"IN-GO! IN-GO! IN-GO!" the Austrians screamed as the skier roared down the hill. Warren and Sophia watched the huge video screens track his progress down the hill, until he appeared in their sight roaring down the final bit of terrain into the finish area.

"Sehr gut! Sehr gut!" one of the Austrians was yelling as the time flashed on the screen. It was a good time. It was early, but Buell had moved into first place by a full second.

Two skiers later, Alan Zimmer left the starting gate. "GO ALAN!" Sophia hollered, to the bemusement of the Austrians.

"Do you know him?" Otto asked them.

"We met him last night, at the opening ceremonies. He's great," Sophia told him.

He was roaring down the hill. They checked his progress on the video screen and the timer. "Ah, great time," one of the Austrians said as he passed the halfway point.

"He is really skiing well," Otto said admiringly, watching him on the screen. He roared into the final bit, and barreled over the finish line. Looking up at the timer, they saw that Alan had moved into first place.

"YEA, ALAN! WHOOO! USA! USA!" Sophia and Warren yelled. The Austrians smiled and good-naturedly clapped them on the back.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Otto told them. "The Master is after this Norwegian guy."

The Norwegian finished, out of the running, and Gerhard Weichenbauer took to the hill. The Austrians started screaming "GER-HARD! GER-HARD!" and then the traditional Austrian skiing chant, "HOP! HOP! HOP! HOP! HOP!" Warren and Sophia loved it. Somebody thrust tiny Austrian flags in their hands. They looked at each other with a smile, and started waving them along with their American flags.