Tambushka

Many years ago, I was working in the emergency room (ER) as a registered nurse where I had been working for quite some time. We had recently hired a new nurse into the ER and I was making an attempt to welcome him to our new team. He was an interesting character. He came out of Detroit, Michigan, and he had a teardrop tattoo, two of them, on the left aspect of his neck. I never got a chance to ask him about this, but the traditional meaning of the teardrop tattoo is that he knew someone who was killed or went to prison. I believe the practice originated in gang culture, which did not seem likely of him. He was professional, rough around the edges, rode a Harley Davidson motorcycle and wore his hair spiked and dyed blonde in Billy Idol fashion. He was funny and very sharp-witted and I liked him right away. I nicknamed him "3-1-3", for the Detroit area code where he came from. He called me "5-3-0" and we had a strong, working friendship.

One day, he approached me after learning that I had once been a member of the U.S. Ski Team. He asked me, with eyes wide in admiration, "Did you know Picabo Street?"

I admitted, somewhat abashed, that yes, I knew her and long before she became a household name. I had stories that would embarrass both Picabo and myself and decided I'd save those for later. However, my friend, 3-1-3 then proceeded to tell me how great it was that I knew Picabo because she was, ( in his words) "The greatest American female ski racer that ever was."

First off, nothing against Picabo. I did know her and she is an energetic, upbeat, and very nice person. She is a beautiful skier with a wonderful touch on the snow, and strong and graceful in the air. In short, I respect her for turning all eyes on U.S. Skiing and winning a gold medal for our country in the Olympics.

However, when I knew Picabo, she was coming up through the ranks. She was younger than I was, and our relationship was more characterized as one of an old dog and a new puppy. She was bouncy, effervescent, always asking questions, full of cheerful smiles and a party attitude. I was more of an old dog, kinda grumpy at times, saving my energy for race day and wishing I was training with the big girls who probably felt the same way about me as I felt about Picabo.

So, when my new colleague and friend managed to tell me that Picabo had not only achieved greatest American female skier status, he was comparing her to all those went before her.

I begged to differ.

My tirade started by asking him if he had grown up in a closet, in the dark, on Mars....If he were really a ski racing fan, he would have done a little more research before challenging me on this subject that is nearest and dearest to my heart.

Most people recognize Picabo Street as one of the winningest female skiers because she won a gold medal in the Olympics. The Olympics are the Coups de gras of most sports because it's publicized as the competition of the best of the best of each country. In some sports, this is true. Swimming and Track for example are sports where the very best compete against each other and the winners represent the true upper echelon of those sports. Skiing is different. The reason is because the Olympics require that each country has a quota for each event. For example the United States can only have 4 competitors in any one event. That works out great when the field of competitors is generally well-balanced. However, Switzerland, Austria and Germany have a long tradition of skiing, ski racers and skiing excellence. It is the National sport in those countries unlike the United States, Italy, and well, Jamaica for that matter. While Jamaica might be hard-pressed to have 4 competitors to meet the quota, Austria has 8-10 per event that could decimate the entire field of Olympic competitors. It is a distinct advantage for the Olympic field that countries like Austria and Switzerland must whittle down their Olympic teams to 4 starting racers. Therefore, an Olympic win is sort of a gimme. Take 12-15 of the world's best out of the field and everybody's got a fighting chance. In ski racing the World Alpine Ski Championships allow rosters of 8 competitors per country meaning that each country gets to fill its quota with the best it has to offer. The World Championships are held ever two years and are the true testament as to who is the best ski racer in the world. For Men's Downhill, there is another true test of excellence: The Hahnenkamm Downhill race held every year in Kitzbuhel, Austria. The other coveted titles are World Cup titles. Each country submits its best skier to a year long series of World Cup races in Slalom, Giant Slalom, Super G, Downhill and Combined events. Winners of these titles are the athletes who best the world's best in those disciplines and they are the true basis for bragging rights in ski racing circles.

So, getting back to my defense of the "Greatest American Skiing female that ever was," I proceeded to educate my friend, 3-1-3 in the error of his judgment. At that time, there was only one woman with the kind of results that afforded her this title. She stood on her first World Cup podium at the age of 16, 5'4" tall and a svelte 115lbs light. She was a game changer, changing the way the game was played from large, power-driven technique to finesse and grace at high speeds. Her touch on the snow was unparalleled and I often tried to mimic that touch which brought me podiums of my own on my own rise to success. She won 4 World Championship medals, one of them gold, stood on 45 world cup podiums, won 4 World Cup titles with 18 World Cup wins and did it with grace and style. She was kind, she nurtured those of us "new puppies" that had stars in our eyes when we had the good fortune of racing with her, and she was a professional who promoted the sport of skiing through her big smile, "southern belle" kindness, and positive attitude.

While Lindsey Vonn has recently earned the title of Greatest American female skier, she may not have realized that title if Tamara McKinney had not set that bar so high and inspired generations of ski racing girls such as myself. Today is Tamara McKinney's birthday. It's probably some anniversary of her 29th birthday as each birthday is for all of us but no matter. She is still as beautiful inside and out as always, and is still inspiring generations of young ski racers in California. I wish her the happiest of birthdays and hope that one day we will get to ski together again.

As for 3-1-3, despite my historical (and hysterical) ski racing tirade, he still wanted Picabo's autograph. (sigh) I was trying to find a way to contact Picabo to see if I could get this for him, but I halted efforts when 3-1-3 died in a terrible motorcycle accident some years ago. His spirit is missed.

So if any of you would like to discuss Greatest American Female Ski racers, I'm always game, but know your stats, because I'm a fan and I'm determined to give credit where credit is due.

Happy Birthday Tambushka!