Tuschen

The ski track writhed like a great snow snake across the face of Graukogel Mountain, cut down a steep slope, then slithered through piney woods to dive into the dangerous Himmelreich (Kingdom of Heaven). Skiers from 15 nations squinted down the demanding course at Bad Gastein, Austria last week and resigned themselves to the painful possibility of an afternoon of pratfalls. As for winning the downhill race, everyone took it for granted that the best men on the mountain were in the contingent from nearby Kitzbuehel, led by Olympic Champion Toni Sailer, 21. The run for the "Silver Jug of Bad Gastein" as less an international contest than an intramural competition between the stu dents of Kitzbuehel's famed old Skimeister Christian Pravda. The big question was: Which one of the Kitzbuehel kids would break the Graukogel record still held by their old teacher.

The answer, delivered in three whooshing installments: all of them. In the tense race against tradition, Champion Sailer

(rhymes with miler) took an unexpected tumble. He got up quickly, and his time (2:40.1) was still better than the master's record of 2:53.1, but it placed him third, behind his home-town pals Hias Leitner and Anderl Molterer.

Two Sausages. No one, least of all Toni himself, thought that his second defeat in two years of international downhill racing called for an alibi. The handsome Austrian was still the man to beat in the approach ing surge of championship races on the swiftest ski runs of Europe and the U.S.

Son of a Kitzuehel master plumber who also happened to be custodian of the local ski club, Toni has spent his life in the shadow of the "Streif," one of the toughest downhill runs in the Alps. He had hardly learned to walk before his father had strapped him onto a pair of skis, and at six, he was taking the Streif in stride. It wasn't enough just to make the run-- Papa Anton Sailer used to stud the nar row strip of snow with pine twigs to force Toni into tight, precise turns, to teach him control. Sometimes the youngster shot the Streif eleven times in a single day--a downhill distance greater than a slide down Mt. Everest. When he turned n, Toni won his first competition and was rewarded with two sausages, a prize he was delighted to take home in those hungry days.

Toni put on height and weight, which worried him because of the notion that a skier has to be small and nimble to get to the very top. Still Sailer stuck to his practice, and he found that his extra size (5 ft. 11 in., 180 Ibs.) gave him extra strength and a distinct advantage in long, grueling races. He concentrated on technique. "It's only a mixture of drauflos-fahren (going at top speed) and trying to use my head," insists Toni, oversimplifying his success. He sticks basically to a racing style developed by Pravda and Toni Seelos, and now so widely used that it has become the international style. Skis are kept parallel and close together, arms and hands are held close to the body, and turns are made by a swinging of the hips referred to as wedeln (tail-wagging).

Three Medals. At Cortina last winter, Toni cut a noticeable slice out of Russia's spectacular march down the ski trails. Standing just a little straighter than his rivals, demonstrating a spectacular sense of balance and feel for the snow, he won a gold medal in all three Alpine events (giant slalom, slalom and downhill). He is expected to win this season's big downhill honors in Europe and plans to come to the U.S. this month to race at Aspen, Colo, and Stowe, Vt.

"The secret of a downhill racer," says Toni, "is really the ability to .think ahead. A good skier looks as far ahead as possible. In my mind's eye, I'm looking even farther ahead than with my eyes. When I'm doing the Streif, I'm already thinking of the steep drop while my skis are still in the 'Mousetrap.' When I'm on the Laerchen-hand, my eyes are on the Oberhausberg, and my mind is on the final schuss."

With this precision, Sailer combines not only strength and prime condition, but an astonishing ability to pick the fastest (not always the shortest) route to the finish line. Sailer's word for his technique is Tuschen, a Kitzbuehel slang term that may derive from the word for brush strokes in an ink drawing, and somehow seems to fit the smooth, effortless swing down the slopes to an endless list of championships.

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