It is February 16, 1994, in Lillehammer, a village in the heart of Norway. When he woke up, Jean-Luc Brassard still didn’t know it, but between that moment and the moment when he unwound his sheets again, he would have written his name in Olympic history.
While leaving the athletes’ village, the driver of the van taking Brassard and his team towards the mountain was involved in a slight accident. “I remember it, because no one panicked, although others could have panicked. We just changed vans. Everyone remained very calm,” explains the former skier who has since become an analyst and host.
The team finally heads to the mountain. “On the road, we arrived towards the top. I had already seen that there were a lot of people. And in Lillehammer, it had been sunny all week, but very cold. There was a favorite among the women, Stine Lise Hattestad, so a lot of people came. »
Since his arrival in Norway, Brassard has started his training descents in a snow plow. Simply to feel your skis, be comfortable on the snow, become fully aware of the moment you find yourself in and control your stress before going at full speed. “People passed by me quickly. It tempted me, but no. Until the penultimate descent, where I tried to do an Olympic descent. It went really well, it was really cool. I had so many good feelings that I lost focus a little. I went to the bottom jump and really freaked out. I flapped my arms, because I saw that I was landing in the wrong place. I completely missed my zone. I landed in front of my bump. I lost everything. My gloves, my poles, my skis. I even heard the crowd react. »
For the first time this week, I had a doubt. And I didn’t have any practice time anymore because they were closing the course. I picked up my clicks and slaps, got back on the course, went to the middle. I tried to simulate the speed. It went well, but I had my doubts.
Jean-Luc Brassard
Brassard rewatches this last training run over and over again as the women compete on the Norwegian track. With his teammate John Smart, he waits in a pretty wooden cabin. Two chairs, a bench, a window and a door. He remembers how the atmosphere was cut with a knife. The wait is interminable, because by virtue of his excellent qualifying run the day before, Brassard is the last skier to set off, and thus, decide the fate of everyone.
“I just wanted to get on the radio,” he said, grabbing a walkie-talkie left on the table, “to call the coaches and ask them where Stine Lise had ended up. By chance, that year, when the Norwegian finished first, I was first. When she was third, I was third. We followed each other all the time. The only time we didn’t have the same position was when we missed the podium on the same day. She finished fourth and I finished sixth. So you always stay a little superstitious and tell yourself that you want to know, but you don’t really want to know, because if she ends up 12e… »
After the women’s race, still without knowing the result of Hattestad, Brassard leaves the cabin despite a spectacularly unpleasant cold. He is consumed by stress. There are 45 minutes left before departure. In the preparation area, there are coaches, athletes, television workers, physiotherapists, “but what is phenomenal is that it is the super silence”.
He continues: “Near the starting gate, I took off my skis to go see the crowd and I was surprised, because it was packed with people. Top, sides, bottom. It was really impressive. You’re trying to manage your stress. Sometimes I closed my eyes to try to calm my breathing and to lower the stress level. And when I opened my eyes, there was the big NBC lens there,” he emphasizes, putting his hand a few centimeters from his face.
It is when he begins to tell the rest, decisive in the quest for his gold medal, that he begins to have tremors in his voice. Unable to hold back his tears, the champion breaks down. “It’s crazy what happened,” he admits, wiping a tear from his cheek.
“It’s hard not to think about what happens if I do it right, what happens if I do it wrong. Am I going to miss again? Because you know that for the entire population, even if the goal is to do it for you, it’s going to define the rest of my life. And at some point, this stress management leads you to experience a scale of emotions. »
Then, at some point, I really lost control of my emotions. It’s the first time I lost it at that time and at that level in my entire career. There, I made a rather special decision: I decided not to do the race.
Jean-Luc Brassard
For him, it was settled. There was no other option. “I didn’t want to experience that stress anymore. I don’t ski for that reason. I decided not to race. I wanted to pick up my things, go down to the village, take the first plane and go live in the woods. What I like is skiing. I was going to be close to the woods, close to a ski slope, whatever! I don’t want to take on a descent after which everyone will say that I’m a loser, because I might have missed my shot. There, my mind raced. »
He finally does what no athlete did in 1994, especially in such a critical situation: he goes and asks for help.
“I had to tell the coach, but I didn’t know how to verbalize it. So I walked into the prep area. Peter Judge didn’t say anything, with his sunglasses and his rubber, but he listened to me. I didn’t have the courage to tell him I didn’t want to race, so I just said, “Pete, I’m scared this time.” He looked at me and said nothing. He continued to chew his gum. I said to myself: ah, there you go, I sabotaged everything. And he asked me a question: “Why do you ski?” I didn’t even think and spontaneously told him that I was skiing because I like it. And he just said, “So, have fun.” What he said is the essence of all athletes. Just hearing it, it feels like all the imaginary bricks have gone onto his shoulders and fallen. I was able to concentrate on the race. »
It was only 15 minutes before he made the descent that would change the rest of his life.