By Ewan Morrison

January 1, 1999

I knew right away I was in for an interesting weekend. First I met an 83-year-old man wearing yellow cowboy boots and pants, and a yellow long-sleeved shirt, bandanna, and cowboy hat-not to mention a bug-eyed pair of Black Flys in-you guessed it-yellow. He needed no introduction. I was in the presence of the one and only Banana George, sponsored by Chiquita to perform all manner of derring-do, from barefoot water-skiing to, well, snowboarding.

Like the rest of the folks gathered together on this Friday evening, George was looking to make a snowboarding breakthrough. He's been snowboarding for several years (since his mid seventies, let's say), but Banana felt his riding had plateaued and was ready to take it to the next level. He'd come to the right place. I, too, came to Colorado seeking the help of brothers Brian and Kevin Delaney. By no one's account an accomplished rider, I needed to work on my fundamentals. I hoped that with any luck, some of the vast experience shared by the Delaneys and the hand-picked coaching staff that helps with their weekend camps would rub off on me. In other words, I was lookin' for a breakthrough of my own.

A varied but affluent crew shuffled into the rental shop in the village at Beaver Creek for the informal welcome meeting and equipment session-men, women, couples, lawyers, brokers, sportswriters, sales reps, 83-year-old fruit-pushin' daredevils, NFL players ... That's right, Tennessee Oilers lineman Erik Norgard was there with his wife, part of the group that would come to be known as the "never-evers"-the absolute beginners. Erik grew up skiing, but when you're in the NFL, management looks none too kindly on knee injuries, especially ones sustained while skiing. He said some of his buddies in the league told him that snowboarding was easier on his knees than skiing, so here he was, ready to give it a shot. About half of the twenty or so campers were never-evers, as it turns out, and they were just a touch fidgety in anticipation of their first snowboarding experience. They wore tense grins and laughed nervously as they struggled in and out of boots and strapped or stepped in for a carpet test.

Many adults are reluctant to try snowboarding because of all the first-day horror stories they hear, and let's face it-adults aren't as resilient as kids. That's why the Delaneys have designed a program that introduces grown-ups to snowboarding with as little bodily damage as possible. It starts with padding for hips, knees, elbows, and wrists, then add a helmet if you like. But the real key to the Delaney approach is the "QuickStick," a nine-foot-long pole that Kevin dreamed up after seeing historical photos of early skiers using a single long pole instead of two shorter ones. The QuickStick helps first-timers maintain balance (think of a high-wire walker), avoid spills (think training wheels), and best of all, it makes getting back up after a fall a heckuva lot easier. As I headed up the Centennial Lift with my coach Danny Martin and the rest of the "intermediate" group, the never-evers were just getting acquainted with the QuickStick.

It was breakthrough time. My group, which included Banana George, spent the morning breaking the riding process down into its parts. Danny showed us how little it takes to turn a snowboard. By ever-so-slightly shifting your weight or turning your shoulders as you move down the fall-line, the board's sidecut will kick in and start doing its job. A quiet, composed body was the goal, and flailing and thrashing were strictly prohibited. What Danny was saying made sense, and I felt myself relaxing, gaining composure as I made my way down the run. We worked on flexing and extending our bodies as we entered and exited turns, and learned how to incorporate proper breathing techniques while we rode. All in all, I felt pretty good as we reconvened for lunch. There were varying degrees of stoke and frustration amongst the first-timers. Some were getting the hang of it after just a few hours-some were most certainly not.

Brian and Kevin were there, motivating campers to hang tough and explaining how most people don't "get it" until lunchtime of day two. As I mentioned earlier, I was feeling pretty good. That is, until Kevin Delaney got a hold of me. He had hooked up with us during the morning session for some coaching and to film us for video analysis. Now the tape was rolling and I appeared on the monitor, linking turns down the slope. So far, so good. Then I did it. I looked down at my feet. Then again, and again. It seems I was developing the nasty habit of looking down at my feet while riding, presumably to check if I was still attached to the board. I was a footlooker! During his analysis, Kevin made it all too clear that footlooking was a no-no, and instructed me to keep my eyes focused forward instead of looking down. To top it off, I caught an edge and face-planted directly in front of the camera-my "breakthrough," conveniently preserved for perpetuity.

On day two, as the never-evers ditched their QuickSticks, I was continuing to gain confidence myself, despite the traumatic footlooking episode. Everything came together that afternoon on a black diamond run called Buckboard. It was a steep run in my book, the steepest I'd ever attempted. Although apprehensive at first, I just tried to make solid, controlled movements instead of freaking out about the pitch. I cleanly initiated turns and transferred my weight from edge to edge, implementing all my newly gained knowledge. Before I knew it I was at the bottom-a clean run! There was no way I'd have voluntarily ridden down Buckboard just one day prior, but there I was, looking up from the base at my humble tracks. As the campers came together one last time on Sunday afternoon, it was pretty apparent that I wasn't the only stoked snowboarder. The room was buzzing with excitement as twenty kids, er, I mean adults, filed in and started stripping off outerwear. The "never-evers" we're now "twice-befores," their nervous laughter of Friday evening replaced by raucous laughter as they celebrated their own personal snowboarding breakthroughs.-Ewan Morrison