Ohno is great, far from unknown

Speedskater's rise in 2002 in Salt Lake has yet to be forgotten

Jody Berger, Rocky Mountain News

Published February 13, 2006 at midnight

Text size

More Olympics

More stories »

TURIN, Italy - Apolo Anton Ohno settled into the second slot as seven athletes sped around the ice.

All seven wore the same blue speedsuit. All seven sported the same gray spots behind their knees and the same white block lettering down their left calves: USA.

Some were slightly taller, some shorter and one or two had ponytails poking out from their helmets. But really, as the athletes skated around the ice with identical motion, identical outfits and identical mushroom cap helmets, they were as interchangeable as Oompah Loompahs.

Anonymity, of course, is as expected as sunrise for short-track skaters in America.

Ohno, though, has seen the other side.

In 2002, the Seattle-born, soul- patched skater picked up an Olympic silver medal when three of four athletes in the 1,000-meters race fell down. He snagged gold in the 1,500 when judges disqualified the guy - South Korean Dong-Sung Kim - who finished first.

Paste those accomplishments together with a good back story - Ohno was raised by a single, immigrant, hairdresser father - and Ohno suddenly was the talk of the town.

Within days of his Olympic success, he became the go-to guy for talk-show hosts. He chatted up Jay Leno, Rosie O'Donnell and Conan O'Brien.

Appearing on MTV's Total Request Live, Ohno dropped to the floor and busted out old-school break-dancing skills for the studio audience.

In a whirlwind of post-Olympic fame, Ohno flew to the Dominican Republic for a fashion shoot with W Magazine. And he yukked it up with Halle Berry, Denzel Washington and Harrison Ford at Elton John's Oscar party.

"My whole life, it changed so much," Ohno said.

Turning back the clock

Now, he's back at the Olympics, trying to recapture the fame of 2002. Dominating at the U.S. nationals, he qualified to race in all four men's short-track races.

He nearly fell during the 1,500-meters semifinals Sunday and failed to qualify for the final, but he has three events to go, wrapping up Feb. 25 with the 500 and the relay.

Beyond that, he said, he hasn't thought much about what the future will bring.

"I'm laser-focused," he said. "I really want to perform."

Nearly four years after his triumphs in Salt Lake City, Ohno appears to lead a pretty normal life. There are no signs of glamour, few signs of wealth and, in one of his last training sessions in Colorado, no signs of fame.

Instead of finding and buying a fabulous home for himself, Ohno chose to live in a spartan, shared dorm room at the Olympic Training Center.

In the years leading up to these Games, Ohno lived in almost exactly the same digs he lived in as a 14-year-old.

The only visible change happened in October. In a thrilling turn of events for resident athletes, a NASA-trained scientist came by, reviewed the rooms and suggested the U.S. Olympic Committee upgrade the mattresses, window shades and alarm clocks.

"It keeps me grounded," Ohno said of his ascetic existence.

The one time Ohno dug deep into his bank account was to buy a house for his father, Yuki, whom Ohno considers a partner in his success. And twice, Ohno allowed himself small splurges.

On the wall of his dorm hangs a 55-inch flat-screen TV. And in the parking lot outside sits a white Lexus sports utility vehicle, the nicest car in the lot.

Ohno's calendar, though, is as spare as his living quarters. Since the Salt Lake Games, he estimates he has spent precisely 14 days away from the sport.

All the appearances, parties and promotional events he once squeezed in between workouts gave way to nothing. In the past couple months, Ohno filled his time exclusively with racing, practicing, weight lifting, cycling, running and, most important, sleeping.

"I go to sleep pretty early almost every night," Ohno said. "My social life is cut to a minimum. I don't really go out. I don't drink. My lifestyle is pretty boring. . . .

"Sleep for an athlete is crucial. That's the only time that the body takes a full break and starts to regenerate. You can only train as hard as you can recover. If you're not recovering right, then you're not going to be ready for the next workout."

And Ohno's workouts are legendary among other short-trackers.

"He'll go and go and go and do specific workouts until he likes the way it's done," said Caroline Hallisey, a three-time Olympian who has trained in the Springs nearly as long as Ohno. "If it starts to hurt, he'll push through it. It could be any workout. Off ice, we'll do jump workouts. He might sink a little bit lower on jumps. Go a little bit harder. It's consistent for him. He won't just go hard for one workout. He'll go hard for every workout. He's not one to slack off."

Beneath the smiling moose

In his final training sessions before the 2006 Olympics, Ohno followed orders like a soldier and responded to the coach's every whistle. One long whistle and Ohno and company sprinted. Another and they eased up.

The banners overhead celebrated the Pikes Peak Miners and Broadmoor Skating Club stars. None mentioned Ohno, who has trained on the same ice in Colorado Springs for nearly nine years.

The only evidence of Ohno's existence was a picture tacked to a bulletin board by the snack bar.

Poorly painted moose, dogs and deer hung on the wall overlooking the rink. A pair of 40-gallon garbage cans, a pile of sweatshirts and a collection of discarded water bottles held down center ice.

Ohno and the others ran through their workouts, and no one watched.

When practice was winding down, Hallisey and Ohno's girlfriend, Allison Baver - both veterans on the women's team - took out their cameras and snapped pictures of each other, together, and of each other with Ohno.

The vibe was more like senior week in a private high school than elite athletes on the verge of their biggest competition.

And it certainly did not feel like a farewell tour for a guy who compares himself to Muhammad Ali and writes about being the Michael Jordan of his sport, in an autobiography published when he was 19.

The coaching staff, though, was thrilled with the way the practice went.

"One of our big challenges was keeping this group together, keeping them positive, making sure they were supporting each other," said Derrick Campbell, a former Canadian Olympian who manages the team. "I think that Apolo's more focused now than ever before. He has more confidence in what he's doing and in the program."

The current training program began in the summer, when Yan Li, a Chinese Olympic medalist, and Campbell arrived in Colorado Springs. And the future is not clear.

At U.S. Speedskating, coaches come and go and, even if they remain, the athletes certainly will change. Then, of course, other opportunities could keep Ohno from staying in the same place for another four years.

After the workout, Ohno thought about the future and said he might come back after the Games, but it sounded as if it was a distant possibility.

"I really love the sport, but it depends on how things go," he said. "I definitely still have a passion for the sport, but I don't know if I want to dedicate another four years to the sport."

Ohno has thought about moving back to Seattle after the Games or finishing school or even trying to start a career in Hollywood.

"That'd be nice," he said. "That'd be very nice, but I don't know. I don't know if that lifestyle's for me. I don't know if I have the talent. I don't know if I have that option."

Subscribe to the Rocky Mountain News