The best thing I saw at the Milan Cortina Olympics

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The Winter Olympics have come and gone. After three weeks of winding mountain bus rides and hours upon hours spent in skating rinks, on ski slopes and even standing in the ski jumping tower, the crew at The Athletic is heading back home. Before we do, we wanted to leave you with our favorite memories from our time in Italy.

A sincere thank you to all of you who read an article or two and joined us for the ride. We hope you enjoyed our coverage. — Zack Pierce, editor

A meal to remember​

On one of the men’s ice hockey crew’s few nights off in Milan, a group of us went for a Florentine steak dinner, a T-bone for two cooked rare, sliced to share with only salt, pepper and olive oil as seasoning, served on a plate so hot you could sear each bite of meat to your desired temperature. It was a life-changing experience. As a starter, we shared a trio of pastas: penne arrabbiata, rigatoni al ragu and — the masterpiece — spinach gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce. I’m not normally a gorgonzola guy, but this sauce was so subtle, with just a hint of the aggressively blue cheese.

As we were eating the steak, we were still thinking about that gnocchi and asked for a plate of it to eat as a side. Our waiter was borderline insulted and tried to convince us to have the pasta after the steak. Who has the primi with the secondi? We insisted, and he reluctantly brought the order, with a look of horror as we spooned the gnocchi onto our plates, alongside the steak. He was so offended that he told a neighboring table about our faux pas. I apologize for nothing. The gnocchi was the best I’ve ever had. — Arpon Basu

The majestic Dolomites​

I saw the sun rise over the Dolomites on a couple of early morning runs. Those craggy peaks are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. As the light passes over them, they appear to be in motion. You notice a new one each day. After Sochi, Pyeongchang and Beijing, those mountains were the star of the Games to me. — Matthew Futterman

A special soundtrack​

When I first arrived at Milan’s central train station and caught a cab to our hotel, I was immediately struck by the jazz music playing in the taxi and reminded of how deeply Italians love jazz. That thought persisted throughout these Games, in cafes, restaurants, lobbies and arenas. It spread to other genres too; certainly Italian opera and its central role in the ceremonies, but also to the modern pop, electronic and rock songs that we heard everywhere.

Some of it clearly played to an elder millennial crowd, like when Gabry Ponte showed up at the closing ceremony to play “Blue” by Eiffel 65. But hearing the theme for the 1994 film “Il Postino” during a medley performed by Calibro 35 resonated quite personally with me, because that soundtrack was a fixture in my home growing up. My parents loved that movie and the score by Luis Bacalov, the Argentine composer who was a naturalized Italian. What a treasure, just like Ennio Morricone, Andrea Bocelli and so many of the other musicians who gave us the soundtrack to the Games. — Oskar Garcia

The Games’ spirit​

It was hard to top Alysa Liu bringing the United States its first gold medal in women’s figure skating in 24 years. But what she did before that, in heading to the mixed zone to gush about teammate Amber Glenn’s free skate, is truly the spirit of the Olympics. Hours away from the biggest skate of her life, she went out of her way to lift up Glenn.

We are surrounded by greatness for three weeks, but it’s the smaller moments, such as the crowd going wild for an athlete who fell or finished last, that often stop you in your tracks. The spirit of the Olympics is what I’ll remember most from Italy. — Brittany Ghiroli

The beauty of the mixed zone​

“In my head, I did my run, and I landed it a bunch of f—ing times, guys, and it was f—ing sick,” Maddie Mastro told reporters in the mixed zone. Understandably upset, the U.S. snowboarder had just fallen three times in the women’s halfpipe final.

The mixed zone, where athletes speak to reporters straight after they compete, is a weird and special place. You might have a planned question to ask, but you never really know what direction the conversation will take. These chats in a sport like soccer, in which players have lots of media commitments, can be quite rudimentary.

At the Winter Olympics, however, competitors from gold medalists to those who didn’t finish spoke with verve, interest and engagement. I love understanding what makes athletes tick, and their responses were so refreshing.

From U.S. Alpine skier Kyle Negomir describing the tiny wooden start hut where competitors wait before their downhill runs as “a funeral at the top” and explaining in such detail how he visualizes a tennis ball floating in the air to the oldest female Winter Olympian, Claudia Riegler, telling us about riding her Harley-Davidson motorcycle around Austria, these sportspeople brought the Winter Games to life by sharing their stories. — Charlotte Harpur

Chloe Kim’s gesture​

I’ll never forget what Chloe Kim did on a snowy Thursday night in Livigno, leading the women’s snowboarding halfpipe final and chasing the first three-peat in the history of the event.

After one of her biggest competitors, South Korea’s Choi Gaon, suffered a nasty fall on her first run — a fall that left Choi limping the rest of the night — Kim pulled her aside and offered her some words of encouragement at the top of the hill. “Don’t worry about what just happened,” Kim told her. “You got this.”

The 17-year-old Choi rebounded and won gold. Kim earned silver and called it one of the proudest moments of her career. It wasn’t hard to see why. — Zak Keefer

Slovakia’s joyful hockey run​

I’m tempted to choose the sullen, silent cab driver who, midway through our 2 a.m. ride to the hotel after another tripleheader at Milano Santagiulia Ice Hockey Arena, suddenly jacked up the radio to an ear-splitting volume, screamed, “TOM JONES NO. 1 HIT ‘SEX BOMB,'” and then started speeding 70 mph down Milan side streets, with no hands on the wheel, loudly singing and dancing along.

But it’s the Slovakian men’s hockey team that will stick with me, particularly the one-of-a-kind ending of their group-stage match against Sweden. On the scoreboard, all Dalibor Dvorský’s goal with 39 seconds left in the game did was make the final score closer — 5-3 Sweden, instead of 5-2. But in the group standings, it was a hugely consequential goal that gave Slovakia the top seed coming out of Group B — and a bye into the quarterfinals — by virtue of total goal differential. Slovakia and Sweden both knew this, so the final minute on the ice was absolutely frantic despite the game being well in hand for the Swedes.

The Slovaks celebrated Dvorský’s goal like an overtime winner, with Juraj Slafkovský screaming to the heavens in absolute joy. The Swedes responded by pulling their goalie for an extra attacker, despite being up two. In the mixed zone, the Slovaks (who lost) were giddy, and the Swedes (who won) were despondent. The cognitive dissonance was something that could only happen in a tournament like this.

I always rooted for Slovakia as a kid because the New York Islanders’ Ziggy Palffy was my favorite player. The once-great hockey nation has fallen on hard times in recent Olympic competitions, bottoming out in Sochi in 2014. But I had a sense they’d be a tough out in this tournament, so I spent much of November and December checking in with most of the seven Slovaks in the NHL after morning skates around the league. Many of them grew up playing together, including on a barnstorming team that Slafkovský’s dad put together to escape the national federation’s disarray. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and the joy they played with in this tournament was unforgettable. Nobody had more fun in Milan than the Slovaks. Except maybe our cab driver that night. — Mark Lazerus

Alpine days​

I’m tempted to say my favorite Olympic moment was “the correct bus finally showing up after we waited outside in the cold for an hour, watching several others whiz past us,” but I’ll pick something more fun.

I got absorbed in Alpine skiing over the past two winters, particularly with the storylines of Lindsey Vonn and Mikaela Shiffrin, and it was amazing to finally arrive at the event that all the fuss was about. It ended abruptly for Lindsey Vonn, of course, but it was amazing to be on the mountain — as Matt Futterman pointed out, a wildly beautiful one at that — for those five days. When this is your office view, it’s hard not to love it:

Also, it is WILD how fast skeleton and luge sleds travel down that sliding track. Seeing it in person feels much different. — Zack Pierce

The power of gold​

Before I covered my first Olympics in Paris, a colleague told me I wasn’t ready for the emotion that comes from watching someone win a gold medal, the high you feel while witnessing someone’s life change.

In Cortina, I finally understood that. I was fortunate enough to spend time with Elana Meyers Taylor and her family at their home before the Games for a story on how she juggled chasing toddlers with chasing Olympic dreams. Her situation is rare — not complicated and not worse, she’d tell you — because both of her boys are deaf, and one has Down syndrome. To watch her finally win gold, and to celebrate by signing “Mommy won” to her boys — well, that’s a scene I will never forget. Her boys are too young right now to understand the significance of their mother’s victory. But I hope that one day, they can read everything we wrote about that night. — Lindsay Schnell

An ode to curling and biathlon​

Curling started two days before the opening ceremony and was still going strong by the time dress rehearsals had begun for the closing ceremony. Over 19 days of mostly very friendly competition, there were 147 games, more than 1,000 ends played and one 360-degree delivery (Norway skipper Magnus Ramsfjell, take a bow).

I saw a lot of rocks, sliding and sweeping. If I had to pick a couple of highlights, it would be Tabitha Peterson’s clutch throw to beat Switzerland in an extra end to take the U.S. to their first women’s playoff round since 2002, and Great Britain geometry guru Bruce Mouat’s runback triple takeout (yes, I picked up some curl-ese) in their semifinal win over Switzerland.

But the memory I will hold longest is an afternoon of serendipitous joy at the biathlon competition. The sport itself deserves a larger profile than it has outside of the half-dozen or so countries that absolutely love it, but it was the fans I enjoyed most. They were not day-trippers like me, or corporate types ticking off another live experience. They were biathlon’s barmy army: knowledgeable, passionate and a little bit tipsy.

As Pål, a face-painted, viking-helmet-wearing, biathlon addict from Norway, put it: “The athletes are good, but what are they doing? They’re competing for 20 minutes. We’re doing this for 20 hours. Day after day. We’re the real Olympians.” — Matt Slater

A night in the ski jumping tower​

Never doubt the power of walking confidently, following someone with authority. That’s how I found myself halfway up the mountain, watching the women’s large hill ski jumping competition from the third floor of the judges’ tower in Predazzo. I was there to interview Miran Tepeš, the competition’s wind expert, who plays the crucial role of air traffic control, monitoring safety and fairness as the ski jumpers take flight.

When I first met Tepeš — who was surprised I was game to hike up the mountain in the frozen snow and mud — the Slovenian was all business. But then I got him talking about his sailboat, called Skokica, and Tepeš couldn’t stop smiling. In ski jumping, athletes and officials hope for quiet skies, while sailors need the wind. Tepeš monitors it all the same.

Throughout the competition, he and the judges stuck their heads out the third-story tower windows to feel the wind on their faces and better see the competitors. I was struck by the way the sport sounded different from up there — you could hear the scrape of skis against snow, the whoosh as they took off, and the silence of flight. — Rebecca Tauber

Ilia Malinin’s response​

I’ll go with the second-best thing I saw. My first is too obvious, and I’ve written a lot of words about the greatness of that gold medalist from Oakland.

So I’ll say Ilia Malinin’s professionalism and accountability in the face of his worst night ever as a skater. He completely crumbled on the ice. Then, immediately, he congratulated Mikhail Shaidorov, the gold medalist from Kazakhstan. After that, Malinin did the entire media run. The mixed zone is a maze of interviews for athletes. They start with broadcasters and video-related content creators. Then they do the wire services. Then they do the media from their nation. Then they do the media from other nations. Malinin answered every question. He didn’t bark at reporters who asked him about his rough night. He didn’t get defensive. He was calm, clear, honest and patient.

He’d just delivered one of the most disappointing performances in Olympic history. If he said he didn’t want to talk and skipped his interviews, everyone would have understood. It has happened many times before. But he stood on business. Even on a day he didn’t handle his on the ice. — Marcus Thompson II

This article originally appeared in The Athletic.

Olympics, Global Sports, Women's Olympics

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