Picabo Street - Picabo: Nothing to Hide

This page intentionally left blank.

P I C A B O

This page intentionally left blank.

P I C A B O

NOTHING TO HIDE

PICABO STREET

WITH DANA WHITE

Chicago New York San Francisco Lisbon London Madrid Mexico CityMilan New Delhi San Juan Seoul Singapore Sydney Toronto

abc

Copyright 2002 by Picabo Street. All rights reserved. Manufactured in the United States of America. Except as permitted under the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The material in this eBook also appears in the print version of this title: 0-07-138312-3

All trademarks are trademarks of their respective owners. Rather than put a trademark symbol after every occurrence of a trademarked name, we use names in an editorial fashion only, and to the benefit of the trademark owner, with no intention of infringement of the trademark. Where such designations appear in this book, they have been printed with initial caps.

McGraw-Hill eBooks are available at special quantity discounts to use as premiums and sales promotions, or for use in corporate training programs. For more information, please contact George Hoare, Special Sales, at george_hoare@mcgraw-hill.com or (212) 904-4069.

TERMS OF USE

This is a copyrighted work and The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc. (McGraw-Hill) and its licensors reserve all rights in and to the work. Use of this work is subject to these terms. Except as permitted under the Copyright Act of 1976 and the right to store and retrieve one copy of the work, you may not decompile, disassemble, reverse engineer, reproduce, modify, create derivative works based upon, transmit, distribute, disseminate, sell, publish or sublicense the work or any part of it without McGraw-Hills prior consent. You may use the work for your own noncommercial and personal use; any other use of the work is strictly prohibited. Your right to use the work may be terminated if you fail to comply with these terms.

THE WORK IS PROVIDED AS IS. McGRAW-HILL AND ITS LICENSORS MAKE NO GUARANTEES OR WARRANTIES AS TO THE ACCURACY, ADEQUACY OR COMPLETENESS OF

OR RESULTS TO BE OBTAINED FROM USING THE WORK, INCLUDING ANY INFORMATION THAT CAN BE ACCESSED THROUGH THE WORK VIA HYPERLINK OR OTHERWISE, AND EXPRESSLY DISCLAIM ANY WARRANTY, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT

NOT LIMITED TO IMPLIED WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE. McGraw-Hill and its licensors do not warrant or guarantee that the func-tions contained in the work will meet your requirements or that its operation will be uninterrupted or error free. Neither McGraw-Hill nor its licensors shall be liable to you or anyone else for any inac-curacy, error or omission, regardless of cause, in the work or for any damages resulting therefrom.

McGraw-Hill has no responsibility for the content of any information accessed through the work.

Under no circumstances shall McGraw-Hill and/or its licensors be liable for any indirect, incidental, special, punitive, consequential or similar damages that result from the use of or inability to use the work, even if any of them has been advised of the possibility of such damages. This limitation of lia-bility shall apply to any claim or cause whatsoever whether such claim or cause arises in contract, tort or otherwise.

DOI: 10.1036/007140273X

To my mother for always teaching me, for being my best friend, and for giving me what little patience I do possess.

To my dad for the competitive and disciplined nature that has carried me to countless successes.

To my brother for pushing and protecting me. I love you, buddy.

To my sister-in-law, Lauren, for friendship and support.

To Jess for teaching me how to be a kind person.

I love you, friendy.

To Nadia for the boundless energy she spends taking care of me and being my friend. I love and miss you, N.

To John for reinstilling my faith in love and family. I look forward to a long and happy life with you. I love you, Mulli.

To Jeff and Susan for their unconditional love and support.

To Cade and Savannah for giving me unconditional love and hope for the future.

This page intentionally left blank.

CONTENTS

This page intentionally left blank.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The authors would like to thank our agents at IMG, Susan Reed and Sue McCarthy-Dorf, for putting it all together. At Contemporary Books, senior editor Matthew Carnicelli envisioned what this book could be from the start and edited the manuscript with enthusi-asm and insight, while senior project editor Heidi Bresnahan and managing editor Marisa LHeureux performed brilliantly under the pressures of time. Dr. Richard Steadman of the Steadman Hawkins Clinic in Vail, Colorado, and Dr. Robert Scheinberg of Texas Orthopedic Associates in Dallas helped us get the medical facts straight. Ann Marie White provided the invaluable gift of research. We would also like to thank Jeff Cordes and Paul Robbins for the clips, Jalbert Productions for the footage, and Rick Kahl, Helen Olsson, and Bill Grout at Skiing magazine for the support. Sally Jenkins generously shared her wisdom and advice. Danielle Drake of Team Street worked that cell phone like nobodys business.

We are also indebted to the coaches, teammates, colleagues, and friends who shared their memories, expertise, and the occasional phone number: John Atkins, Pat Bauman, Muffy Davis, Herwig Demschar, Wendy Fisher, Ernst Hager, Brad Hunt, Nadia Guerriero, Matt James, Mike Cookie Kairys, Olle Larsson, Sue Levin, Paul Major, Sean McCann, Tamara McKinney, Lane Monroe, and Andreas Gnarly Rickenbach.

Finally, this book could not have been possible without the help, hospitality, and stories of the Street family: Ron, Baba, Lauren, and especially Dee. Once again, you were the glue.

INTRODUCTION

I grew up on stories.

My family lived in a tiny community near Sun Valley, Idaho, called Triumph, population thirty-five. Our home was an old mining cabin with plastic taped over the windows and a hardworking woodstove for heat. We didnt have a TVmy parents considered it a corrupting influencebut we did have a stereo. This was the 1970s and early 80s. I could sing along to Fleetwood Mac, but Wilma Flintstone was a stranger to me.

So we had to entertain ourselves. At night, especially if we had company, Mom and Dad would throw a few sticks of kindling on the fire and talk. About everything: stuff that happened when my older brother, Baba, and I were babies, who was doing what in Triumph, how the workday went, and whatnot. My family called it talking story. Id be playing in another room and half listening to Dadhe was the main storytellerholding court in the living room. Dads stories were dramatic and always seemed to involve some ill-advised adventure or freaky brush with disaster.

For example, theres the story of the time I escaped death at the tender age of one. My parents and their friends loved exploring the mountains, long before that became a trendy thing to do, and theyd hike into the high country for three weeks at a time, packing kids and supplies on a horse or mule. After setting up camp, theyd tie a log to the animals to keep them from wandering. One day Mom and Dad were hanging out at a friends campsite with Baba and me when the friends horse went wilda bear must have spooked himand he came ripping through camp, dragging that log behind him. Mom threw herself over me, and when she pulled herself up, she spotted a hoofprint pressed into the dirt a mere inch from my head. So you could say Ive been living on the edge since I was in diapers.