NILS STOLZLECHNER
Kitzbuhel, AUT/Puerto Rico
Rolling Stones and Cops
Back in December of 1985 and before the Four Hills Tournee I was heading back home to Kitzbuehel, Austria. (You might ask why Austria is home, that’s longer story…) but anyway there was one more World Cup event in Chamonix, France. The rest of the US Tournee team stayed home for Christmas so I as solo.
Since I had no coach, I attended the coaches meeting in France (not my first) just to get a little heckled by my ex-coaches from Austria, but in a fun and good way. I had great training jumps consistently in the top 15 and loved the hill there since it was a K85 and flew high from the take-off. My cup of tea!!
The next day a warm front hit Chamonix and overnight the rain softened up the grounds around the site. Little mud fest going on, but I also loved the warmer conditions and slushy inrun. Back in the days we did not have tracks and just a bumpy natural snow inrun track that was set by fore jumpers. Needless to say, my confidence was up and, in the trial ride I had the third longest jump.
There was a pretty good crowd of spectators all over the hill and also in the walking path (yes, we used to actually walk up hills and then jump down). With a very high level of confidence, I kicked out of the gate for round one, was a little on the late side but at the end was in 9th place. My best finish in a world cup until then was an 8th place and I felt certain I could top that in round two.
I went for a jog, then collected my arm bib. With the new starting number for the reverse order of round two from the Austrian Head coach Paul Ganzenhuber, who was my trainer in Stams, Austria when in school here. He gave me a pat on the back, a couple of pointers and then I went to the changing area and put back on my bright yellow jumpsuit.
Ready to walk up after preparing my skies, and because it was warm, I took my helmet off not to sweat it up and started walking the path that zig zagged up the hill. Round two had started and I was watching competitors take their second jumps. About a quarter of the way up I heard a bunch of French spectators yelling “Allet!!!! Allet!! And was wondering what that meant. Next thing I know I was sitting on the ground, skis on the ground and bells ringing in my ears and stars circling my vision. As I looked down the hill, I saw a fist large rock bouncing down the hill. People came running to me as I got up realizing that that rock just hit me, but aside from a little blurry vision, I was fine. I was about to pick up my skis when a person who spoke English told me that I was hurt and to sit back down. With all the adrenaline pumping thorough my veins i didn’t feel hurt but saw some red stuff dripping down the front of my bright yellow suit.
Taking a closer look at it turns out that what looked like fresh blood was exactly that, and coming down my head pretty good. Still no pain I did the self-check; it was Sunday, I was in Chamonix, 9th after the first round, and concluded I was just a little winged but other than that OK. By this time the French team doctor came up and looked at me agreeing I was OK but that he need to take a closer look at the wound. So back down we went, skis and off to the first aid trailer. The doctor started pulling on my shoulder long hair, did that flashlight thing to my eyes and then told me to sit still. I felt a couple of tugs and something that seemed to scratch on my scull when the doc said “ OK, only one more stich and you are good”. STITCHES!?!?!?!/! I did not even get a numbing shot and hated needles so you can imagine that the final stitch hurt like hell. I was almost about to unload my breakfast (coffee and egg) in that trailer and started feeling a little sick
The entire stitching-Nils-up deal took about 20 minutes and wait…………… what about my second round? As I left the trailer the FIS TD was there with the organizer checking in and apologizing for what had just happened. Spectators should not have been on the hill path walking up and the rock was knocked loose by one of them. Looking up I saw the 10th place jumper from round one land as my heart sank followed by tears of frustration. The TD asked the French team doctor if I was OK to jump, he nodded and then someone grabbed my skis, and me by the elbow, and we started jogging to a car. We loaded in and drove up a little road that led to the bottom of the inrun tower. On the ride up I went through my imagery routine, took deep breaths and told myself not to let this incident distract me. I paced myself up the tower, my head now starting to pound a bit. At the gate the leader from round one just had jumped. The starter told me to take my time and that the jury had allowed for me to jump out of order and last. I slipped my arms back in my suit, and zipped up. Then the helmet went back on with the wish that it would have been on when I walked up the hill. I put my skis on, always the left first, closing the binding and then tapping that left ski twice before strapping on the right ski with another two taps for good luck, a man has to have his routine and satisfy the superstition. As I slid out onto the bench, I looked down one more time to make sure the bindings where good when I noticed that pretty much the entire left side of my yellow suit was full of blood. What I did not know was that my left cheek and chin also were covered in dried blood. I noticed the expression in the starting official’s face when he asked if I really was OK and figured this was not a good look. The competition was broadcasted live in Europe and I’m certain the camera man at the top hit that zoom button pretty good. Off I went, late again and not a good jump, go figure, ending up in 23rd place. Bummer, but what can you do?
My head was now hurting more and the doctor gave me some pain killers for the 7 hour drive back home. The Austrian coach came and checked in with me and told me that he would send two of his athletes with me in the car (a US Ski Team-logoed Subaru that we drove (recklessly) in the day), worried that I might not be as fit as I thought I was. Ernst Vettori, Olympic Gold Medalist in 1992 and Werner Haim, World Junior champion, volunteered. We loaded up and off we went. Long drive and it was before Christmas, so we were all looking forward to a little time off with our families before the Tournee. We crossed into the Austrian border about 4 hours into the drive. Back then it was an active border so passports where shown. The customs officer recognized us and asked me what had happened and that the TV broadcaster was freaking out because of all the blood he saw on my face and suit. Apparently, nobody had informed the press about what had happened, which in those days without social media was how it was. Driving on we were listening to the Austrian Radio station. There was a segment about my accident and details on it. People that know me well reading this now know that I loved the attention which I did, and that this was the kind of a thing that happened to Nils. Closer to home we were still on a two-lane road on a clear, dark night with no traffic so decided to go a little faster than the posted speed limit.
We were listening to the radio and talking about what had happened and joking around when Werner Haim yelled “cops!” which I thought was just another joke. Sure enough though I saw car pull out behind me and then the blue lights came on. Since I had a good head start, I decided to make a run for it. I turned off the car’s lights and took the next exit and, without seeing the lights of the police car behind me, decided to have dinner. I figured that by the time we were done nobody would be looking for us. Dinner was great, we took a little extra time and then went back on the road. We had to go through the Arlberg tunnel, a 10-mile-long tube that connects the Austrian state Vorarlberg with Tirol. It was just before 10 pm and at the entrance of the tunnel there was a police car parked at the side of the entrance with two officers standing outside. We drove by them and I said “ Cool, they didn’t recognize us… we are good” with Vettori responding “Right, there must have been hundreds of US Ski Team Subaru’s with ski bags on the roof speeding today!”
Sure enough the cops got into their car and turned on those blue lights. We stopped inside the tunnel, on one of the emergency stop areas and I rolled down the window. The police officer walked up to our car, looked inside and then started to laugh, which for me was a good sign. First thing he said was “Where the hell did you guys go?” We told him that we had dinner and asked why we got pulled over. He then said that for sure we saw them turn on their lights. He told us he estimated our speed well over the posted limit. Right after that he looked at me and said, “Nils, what happened today, did you get into fight before your second jump? By this time the second officer was there as well, and they both listened, interested to my recap with Vettori and Haim as color commentators narrating the incident. At the end he informed us that there were cops on both sides of the tunnel waiting for us along with one on top of the mountain road. He said that that meant six officers, waiting for 90 minutes which would amount to a hefty fine, but considering it being us, right before Christmas and on our way home, he would reduce the fine from what amounted to about $800 to $40. Relieved, we all pitched in, promised to slow down and then drove off.
Down the road Ernst Vettori looked over to me and said “Well, another Nils story nobody will believe just happened.”
To this day both Werner Haim and Ernst Vettori are good friends of mine and Ernst’s son’s name is Nils.
