According to Britain’s head coach, Mark Tilston, Baxter "has shown that skiers from these shores can compete and beat traditional alpine nations."

 

Mark Simmers, chief executive of Snowsport GB, commented: "His fourth place in a World Cup in Sweden, an overall world ranking of 11th and claiming Britain’s first Olympic alpine ski medal, speak volumes of Alain’s mercurial skiing talent."

 

But for an imprudent and unwitting snort on an American version of a Vicks inhaler, which turned out to contain the drug metamphetamine, Baxter would have kept the bronze medal he won with such astonishing dash at the 2002 Salt Lake Winter Games.

 

As it is, his career will always have a wistful feel to it. If only he’d packed a British version of Vicks he would have been OK. He’d skied the best he’d ever skied – he should have used Odorono…

 

It’s a pity you don’t get Olympic medals for being a great bloke, because if you did, Baxter would have been nailed-on for gold. And as he now reaches the end of the slippery slope I would like to advance some reasons why he remains one of my favourite sportsmen.

 

Reason No.1. Not every athlete, when faced with a lack of cash, would decide to raise funds by producing a nude calendar of themselves, as Baxter did last November to assist a winter Olympic campaign at the 2010 Vancouver Games that he will not now embark upon.

 

No matter. He showed initiative, daring even; and he didn’t – quite – show what all Highlanders have up their kilts.

 

Reason No.2. His decision to dye his hair in the form of a white and blue Scottish saltire before the Salt Lake Games – done, in his own words, ‘for the craic’ rather than to make any political statement about his country of birth as he represented Great Britain. His method of rectifying the matter when the autorities cut up rough – rather than dyeing his hair back to a normal colour, he simply coloured in the white cross blue, but so badly that you could still see it. That was endearing, even if it gave him the look of a woad-daubed ancient Briton as he took to the slopes above the jewel in the Mormon’s crown.

 

Reason No.3. He plays shinty, regularly, for his local club Kincraig.

 

Reason No.4. In 2005 he won the British TV Superstars event, beating, among others, John Regis and Du’Aine Ladejo. "It was good to kick the arse of some of the summer boys." he said. Top marks there.

 

Reason No.5. The cars. Skiers, well British skiers, don’t ever get to be part of the Baby Bentley brigade. But they have their own automotive fun. Listen up, Rio Ferdinand. When Baxter began competing in Europe aged 18 his ride of choice – well, of necessity – was a beat-up VW Passat with a hole in the back. He and his mates, travelling in dilapidated convoy, would sleep in their cars and get changed for competition in the car park as the other teams were strolling out of their hotel after breakfast. "It was not professional,’ Baxter recalled, "but it was fun." Words that deserve to live long and loudly.

 

Reason No. 6. On the morning after Baxter had won the first Olympic skiing medal for Britain, a TV crew came to his room to interview him. After what he described as a ‘massive night’, Baxter had had only an hour’s sleep and found himself inconveniently without any clothes on when the crew arrived. There was further inconvenience when – in what now seems like an unpleasant premonitory experience – his medal could not be found. Baxter did the logical thing, checking to see if it was around the neck of his brother, Noel, who had crashed out on the sofa. It wasn’t. But it was in Noel’s jacket pocket, soaked in beer.

 

Reason No.7. I confess I had had a small part to play in Baxter’s massive night. I didn’t careen down the slopes with him, but I might have given him a little push near the top. Salt Lake City not being replete with drinking holes, visiting members of the press who did not follow the Mormon code of teetotalism made it one of their top priorities to find a venue that fitted their bill. The Dead Goat Saloon, full of dark beer and blues music, was like a piece of New Orleans that had been wrenched up in a twister and deposited on the arid plain of Utah.

 

And it was to this dingy haven of delight – there were even pool tables upstairs with hardly anyone on them, I ask you - that the British team’s press officer led Baxter three hours after his startling performance on the ice-hard switchback of a slalom course at Deer Valley. There was an element of tension about this supposedly informal appearance, however. The press officer was dedicating himself with Olympic fervour to the task of preventing his new medallist being hassled, pressured,questioned or even approached

 

Our unastounding decision to buy the bronze medallist a drink was cautiously allowed by the officer, although he was beginning to take on a set expression, reminding me of a teacher in charge of a school outing that was about to spiral out of control.

 

People kept coming up to Baxter, bothering him, wanting to say hello and have his autograph. Could you believe the nerve of these people? That needed careful monitoring. Then came the TV crew, bearing down upon the glorious Scotsman at the bar. Our officer stepped up to the mark like an Englishman. "No! Leave him alone! He’s just trying to have a quiet drink! Just leave him! Go on!"

 

The Reuters cameraman faltered, before being ushered forwards by none other than Baxter himself. "No it’s fine," commanded the Highlander with a wave of his mighty arm. Come on." As our officer busied himself with some suddenly urgent paperwork the cameraman began to rove around the medallist, the light above his lens illuminating the first of what would be many beers held in his beefy hand.

 

A young lady celebrating her 21st birthday requested an autograph on a certain part of her body, but Baxter sensibly elected to write his name on a beer mat. Amiably, and just a tad awkwardly, he accepted a succession of congratulations before settling down to watch a replay of his performance on the TV in the corner of the bar.

 

It might have been his finest hour. Bloody Vicks.

 

Mike Rowbottom, one of Britain's most talented sportswriters, has covered the last five Summer and four Winter Olympics for The Independent. Previously he has worked for the Daily Mail, The Times, The Observer, the Sunday Correspondent and The Guardian. He is now freelancing and will be writing regularly for insidethegames 

 

 
Comments

It is nice that Alain is receiving the credit he deserved but
never received during his career. It is only now that he is not
there that people will begin to realise how good he was. Good
luck Alain.
By John Renwick, Inverness

6 April 2009 at 16:37pm

Does somebody there have a thing about Alain Baxter? You seem to
take every opportunity to use a nude picture of him.
By Curious, Edinburgh

6 April 2009 at 20:05pm