Howbeautiful.
38
I Wasn’t Worth the Truth
Knox
I’m standing in front of the riders’ tent, the place where all the X Games participants hang out. It’s already dark, but the whole place is ringed with spotlights and lit up. I can hear the audience’s calls as well as the commentators’ observations through the speakers all the way over here. My heart is hammering against my chest. But not because I’m nervous. It’s the steroids I just shot. Pearls of sweat are forming on my neck and running down into my jacket. Maybe I should’ve taken a lower dose. Maybe I shouldn’t have takenanything. But I’ve got no choice. Shit, I’ve got to be the best. I’vegot to.
It’s the fifth time ESPN’s invited me to the X Games. Not for one discipline, but two: superpipe and superpipe session because I’m known for landing awesome tricks and coming off as cool and easygoing. That’s my thing.
I nod to security out in front of the tent, and they move to the side. They know who I am. I pick up my gear in the fore tent at reception and move on to the riders’ tent. It’s nice in here, warm and full. A buddy of mine is sitting between two skiers with a pair of recovery boots on, which are supposed to massage his calves. He flashes me a peace sign. The kind of peace dude who goes and getsbaked after every contest.
I take a Monster Energy out of the fridge when I realize that Jason Hawk is staring at me. He’s sitting in front of a mirror while a hairstylist is flitting about him in an attempt to tame his hair. I open the can and return his stare, expressionless, until he looks away. We both do superpipe, and last year he just crushed me. I can’t stand him, really, his big mouth freaks me out, but, shit, can herockthe half-pipe.
I sink down onto one of the couches, drink my energy drink, and look at the livestream on one of the TVs. A Canadian snowboarder is attempting a double cork but doesn’t manage and takes a pretty bad fall. “Oh, shit,” someone filling up their plate at the buffet says while another whose hip is being massaged by a physiotherapist says, “Dude, he’s out.”
I pull out my phone to write Paisley a message.
You here already?
Yep. With your dad and Wyatt in the front row.
Brief pause, then:
A cameraman keeps sticking his finger into his nose. It’s so gross.
I have to laugh, then my name is called, and I’m told to get ready. I polish off my drink, put the can to the side, and stand up.
I’m up next.
She sends me that GIF of the pig in the sequined dress.This is what I look like when I cheer you on. Go, Knox, uh, uh, go, Knox.
God. Ilovethis girl.
My hands are sweaty with nerves. The audience would never notice, of course, but before every ride I get butterflies. It’s a greatform of nerves. I like it. A tingling excitement. If my life as a star snowboarder weren’t filled with so many uncomfortable things, like the pressure, all the time required, the publicity that digs into every aspect of my private life, I’d never want to change it.
It’s so bright that it feels like I’m going to go blind. Lights are dancing before my eyes and, thanks to the snowmobile, it stinks so bad on gas that I think my lungs are going to give out.
“Knox!” the audience calls as I make my way past them. “You’re going to rock this, Knox!”
“Oh my God, I love you!” a sandy-haired blond yells before breaking out into tears when I walk past. Another guy bellows, “Yo, you’re the best, man!”
I smile at everyone as I make my way to the snowmobile, my board pressed up tight against me. The snowmobile will take me up the slope to the pipe, where I’ll get out behind the huge blue X Games banner. From there, everything else looks unspectacular, like working backstage at a festival as a scaffolder or something. But I can hear the crowd going nuts, and I can hear the speakers egging them on by saying my name and asking everyone whether they’re ready to see me.
Security steps to the side and lets me up the stairs. There’s a lot of them, like walking up to the third floor of a building, and when I come out at the top, a woman with a headset comes up to me immediately. Gesticulating wildly with one hand while the other is on her headset, her eyes are narrowed as she listens to all the instructions. “Just a sec,” she says. “They’re still running a commercial. We’ve got to wait for the cameras. Okay. You can go out now, strap in, but wait until I give you the go-ahead.”
I do what she says and step out in front of the scaffolding and the crowdgoes wild. The spectators are calling out, screaming, and yelling with all their might, but I can’t see a thing due to the glaring lights. It’s so loud my ears are ringing. Thankfully I know that as soon as I hit the pipe, my head will block everything else out. Thenall that’s left is me, my board, and my jumps that I’ve been perfecting all year long. All there is is my heart slamming against my chest and this moment.
The woman with the headset gives me a sign with her index finger. “Go!”
I push off, jump, and feel that feeling in my stomach as I hit the pipe. For a few seconds I’m weightless, then I think:What an awesome feeling.
I kick off with a frontside double cork 1260° followed by a double backflip that looks like a corkscrew. My snowboard lands perfectly, inside I’m cheering even louder than the spectators, then I do a backside 900°. I shift pressure to the front right, shoot up the right wall, jump off on the edge of my heel and in the first half turn I’m back to the audience. Then I do a frontside and cab, land flawlessly, and get ready for my last jump: the frontside double cork 1440°. It’s a tough one, and last year I almost didn’t land it, but I trained all summer long and am praying that it’ll work out this time, praying, praying, praying, and…
I land it.Holy shit. The adrenaline makes me laugh out loud. I ride into the middle of the pipe, push up my goggles, and wave into the cameras with an ear-to-ear grin.
Top that, Hawk.
