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Outside Magazine November 2002

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The Cool Sellout (Cont.)


	"Sometimes I kinda forget where I am," says Powers. (Ben Watts)

FOR A GOOD BAROMETRIC reading of snowboarding, rewind to the U.S. Open. Today is Thursday, and people have been practicing on Stratton's slopes since Monday for the contests this weekend. There are three categories of competition this year: quarterpipe, halfpipe, and slopestyle. Compared with what will transpire at the World Quarters next week, the Open seems tame. Used to be that you could spot riders toking up before a run, hear a member of the Wu-Tang Clan lay down an impromptu rap, or maybe get hit in the head with a beer bottle. Now there's a $180,000 purse, heavy competition, bleachers, grandparents, and a 25-member private security force. The chaos is under control.

Sort of. Luke Mitrani and Tommy Emanuelson huddle behind the vinyl start tent of the slopestyle event, occupied with how to wear their ski-racerish number bibs in any manner but the official one. Earlier, Luke and Tommy told me they were 21-year-old Texans who'd won the Olympics; in fact, I'll learn, both were born in 1990 and hail from Vermont. Presently, Luke dishes up some MC trash talk: "We're the cool rappers/And we don't like snappers..."

All right. What he doesn't mention is that he and his four-foot-tall friend are sponsored by two of the sport's largest companies, Burton and Oakley; that they won every U.S.A. Snowboarding Association halfpipe and slopestyle contest in their respective regions this season (Luke rules southern Vermont, Tommy northern); and that 12-year-old Luke just beat out 135 older pros to make the halfpipe quarterfinals.

But they still have to wear these lame red spandex bibs like everyone else. Tommy, whose blond bowl cut frames a set of cheeks still chubby with baby fat, steps his bulky boots through the bib's arm holes and hikes the hem up high, peering over his fists to see how he might secure it around his scrawny chest. Luke tries to help, but the thing won't stay up. Older pros mill around, waxing boards and waiting to take a run. As J. J. Thomas sideslips down the start ramp, two guys in the tent who are not yet 20 compare notes on the orthopedic corsets they had to wear after breaking their pelvises last season. Out back, Josh Pekuri yanks against his own bib. "I feel like a Baywatch girl," he complains.

All Tommy can manage is a sort of sumo diaper. Not cool. Luke, who has faint freckles and coarse curls, suggests they tie the bibs into do-rags. Yeah! They take off their helmets and goggles and try the Axl Rose approach. Too much material to knot. But Luke has a creative breakthrough.

"Tommy!" he shouts. "We don't even need to tie it—your helmet will hold it on." Jamming helmets over headwear, they size each other up.

"That looks sick, dude," Luke chirps, snapping his goggles into place. Then they strap into their bindings, point their boards downslope, and ride.

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