Posted Dec. 14, 2004 Snow Summit DH closure: The human story By now you've heard that Snow Summit has decided to end downhill riding and racing, due in large part to the liability issue. How you feel about that depends on your perspective. VeloNews reported a $25 million lawsuit has been filed on behalf of a rider injured in a June 2003 downhill race. Team Big Bear, Snow Summit and USA Cycling all have insurance, but that settlement would break the bank. They decided downhill is too risky to justify, so downhill bikes will no longer be loaded onto the Sky Chair. This news crushed the SoCal downhill scene and no doubt made other American resorts rethink their bike operations. At a global level this is a bad sign. At the local level it's a huge bummer. Letter writers have attacked the injured party as "some fool who claimed ignorance of his actions" and a "moron that [sic] put a helmet on, signed a waiver explaining the extreme dangers of downhill racing, crashed then decided to sue Snow Summit." Disappointed riders are crying out against "bully lawyers" and "ambulance chasers." It's easy to throw out the accusations when you're strong, fit and looking forward to next race season. But when you're the guy who can't walk, things look a bit different. I am 99 percent certain I know the rider -- the "moron" paraplegic. He isn't allowed to talk abut his case, but I'll try to provide his viewpoint. I met John (not his real name) in spring of 2003 at a Bay Area jumping spot. He was a close friend of one of my riding buddies, and I liked him right away. John is energetic, considerate, fun and likes to go for it. I have video of him charging a technical set of doubles that April. His technique wasn't dialed yet, but just being around him made you want to step it up. At the May 2003 Big Bear nationals John stayed with us in a condo right next to the venue. He was so stoked. He'd been training all winter. He felt ready to win an expert race and step up to semipro. He was about 24. He was a typical downhill racer, much like you and me. That weekend John hooked up with a local female downhiller, and they hit it off right away. A couple weeks later he came back down for the Amateur Cup and stayed with her. What an exciting time for him. About halfway down the 2003 national downhill course, riders hauled mail down an access road, went over two awkward doubles, hung a hard left down into the trees, crossed a ski run, threaded through more trees then powered onto another access road and over a series of jumps. The first was a tabletop, and the right side was worn down. That was the fast line. When John came back for the Amateur Cup, that line was still in effect. He told me he came out of the woods, lined up far right, sucked up the jump, then pedaled hard. Just as his weight shifted forward, his right pedal clipped a course marking pole, and he flew forward. He landed on his head, fractured several cervical vertebrae and severed his spinal cord. In an instant, John became a healthy head on a useless body. In the early days we all visited him in the hospital. He shared a room with a rich kid who crashed one of his family's Ferraris. This guy was in the same shape as John, and he cried all night, every night. John stayed strong and positive. He was bummed for sure, but his spirit refused to admit his condition was permanent. He was ready to attack this as hard as that rhythm section, as hard as the plyometrics, as hard as he'd charged everything. None of us believed it was permanent either. The doctors said his chances were low, but as John regained the use of his hands we all cheered, "Right on! Next comes your legs!" That was 18 months ago. We've all gone back to normal life. The daily visits have ended. John is still paralyzed from the waist down. He's trying to make a life for himself, trying to stay sane, and he's become an expert on stem cell research -- his last hope. Forget about railing a downhill. He'd be stoked with a normal bowel movement. After the accident John did not plan to sue. He knew downhill is dangerous, and his crash seemed random, the kind of thing that could happen to anyone. I don't know whether the lawsuit is driven by him, his family or his insurance company, but I do know it's not driven by greed. We're talking about a man in his mid-twenties, a union tradesman moving up the pay scale, with 30+ lost earning years, never-ending health care bills and an irrevocably fucked up life. How much is that worth? In the end $25 million comes far, far short of compensating him for what he lost. SoCal downhillers are upset about losing a great riding and racing spot. I understand the passion, the blind devotion, the selfishness. It's all about getting that next perfect run, getting faster, winning races. On one side of the equation, maybe a thousand people must adjust to the loss of the Snow Summit Sky Chair. On the other side, you have a family that's permanently affected and a guy who will never enjoy the things we take for granted. Which weighs heavier, the inconvenience of a thousand, or the devastation of one? I guess that depends on your perspective. Cities and companies that promote dangerous sports enjoy some legal protection. By buying lift tickets or even participating in downhill mountain biking, riders accept that it's a hazardous sport, and they accept liability. The only exception is negligence. If a city or company fails to ensure safety to an "industry standard," it can be held liable for an injury. I'm not supporting this viewpoint, but if I were the plaintiff's attorney, I would try to prove the construction and placement of the course marker was negligent. I'd ask, what's the purpose of a course marker of this type? Answer: To show riders where to go. Question: What was the marker the plaintiff struck made of? Answer: Steel rebar hammered into the ground, with a PVC pipe slipped over it. Question: That sounds very robust. Does a course marker have to be that strong? Answer: Uhh ... Question: Where was the pole located? Answer: Right next to the landing of the jump. Question: Was that placement necessary to prevent riders from going around the jump? Answer: Uhh ... Breakaway poles might be safer, but they would cost much more than rebar. Course markings, insurance and lawsuits are part of the cost of doing business. If the sport can't generate the revenue to cover these costs, then the sport isn't viable. When you look at it this way, Snow Summit's closure to gravity riding seems like a smart business decision. The end of litigation would help gravity riding survive, but -- let's face it -- our society needs lawsuits. In tragic situations they're our only recourse. John paid to ride a downhill course. He clipped a course marker. And now he's permanently disabled. I defy anyone in this situation to accept permanent disability as "part of the sport." What happened to John could have happened to anyone. Snow Summit's decision ensures it won't happen again -- at least not at Snow Summit.    ---   ---   --- Does this story piss you off? Let me have it.

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