Bode

This story originally aired on Jan. 8, 2006.

Who do you think is the top ranked American skiier in the world today? You probably wouldn't think it's Bode Miller, not after what happened to him at the Olympics this winter, but you'd be wrong.

Bode may not have made it to the podium in Torino, he may have been castigated in the press for partying too much, for skiing under the influence. But after all that, Bode went on to do awfully well the rest of the season. He finished third in the world, according to World Cup standings, and once again, the top American.

60 Minutes correspondent Bob Simon first reported his story about Bode before the Olympics and the controversy and the recovery. Simon explained why this rebel with a cause had become not only a sports but a culture hero, determined to forge a new trail outside the hallowed traditions of alpine skiing, both on the slopes and off.

Bode Miller falls more than any other world champion. Last year, in the process of winning the World Cup, he fell or just didn't finish a third of his races. And many of the falls are just blood curdling. But when he begins to lose it, don't count him out. His recoveries can be beyond belief.

Watching Bode ski can also be a risky business. Even if he ends up on his feet or on his skis, sometimes a spectator does not.

Bode Miller is one of the few world class skiers to ski in all five disciplines, from the lightning speed of the downhill, that's the 90-mile an hour race, to the intricate ballet of the slalom. He was a contender to win a medal in any or all of those races at the Olympics. But the one person who didn't seem to care about medals was Bode Miller himself.

"I kind of take pride in the fact that I do things my own way," says Miller. "So whether somebody wants me to get five gold medals or whatever it is, I sort of feel like they're all other people's concerns and issues, not really mine."

Asked if he is detached from fans asking him to bring home the gold, Miller says, "I'm not very receptive to other people's ideas in that way, if that's an easy — if that's a gentle way to put it ... I don't really care what anybody else says."

What would Miller consider to be a perfect Olympics?

"If I could put down, you know, unbelievable performances, really inspirational performances that you tugged at people's hearts, where people got emotional and still not come away with any medals, I think that would be the ideal Olympics for me," Miller says.

But Miller's style is far from ideal, at least in the conventional sense. When Simon took skiing lessons, he was told to bend his knees, lean forward, keep his arms tucked in and hope for the best. But Miller leans backwards, his arms are all over the place and he skis on the very edge of control. On the edge.

In a famous and, at the same time, infamous downhill race, Miller lost one of his skis when he was going 80 mph, and continued down the course on one ski.

"I kind of had an idea that people would think it was pretty funny and that the coaches would probably be bummed out and, you know, mad like they always are," says Miller.

He was right about that: they were not amused.

"It could have been really devastating," says Phil McNichol, the head coach of the U.S. Ski Team.

McNichol says he feared Miller could have gotten hurt. "It would have been, 'Oh, Bode, what a fool.' Instead, you know, it was, 'Bode, what amazing, unbelievable, you know, superhero.' "

But John McBride and Mike Morin, also ski team coaches, say it is precisely Miller's independent streak that made him a champion.

"What makes him great is right here," McBride says, pointing at his brain.

What does McBride think is up there? "I wish I could put my own finger on that," he says.

And they say Miller is attacking more than that downhill course. He's attacking the orthodoxy of ski racing.

"Alpine ski racing is steep in tradition. This is the way you ski. This is the way you make a turn. This is the way you go from gate to gate. And then all of a sudden along comes this American phenom," says Morin. "Cowboy who says 'I don't like that box over there. I'm gonna ski over here.' And he starts to do things a totally different way."

Miller is different. He doesn't train in the ski team's high tech gym, but works out in an old barn on his family's property in New Hampshire.

What kind of shape is he in? Bode Miller is characteristically modest.

"There's a lot of guys who are in really good shape, but for ski racing there's no question I'm in better shape than most guys," he says.

Miller designed the main machine he uses to train and his uncle built it. It looks like a contraption that came out of the Spanish inquisition and it probably would make most people talk.

Miller is not lifting weights; his friend jumping up and down is doing that. He is building his thigh and stomach muscles by squatting down with a load of 320 pounds. The machine looks like the product of a mad inventor.

"Like, if you get a good workout, it feels more like a torture device of some sort," says Miller.

To relax, Miller plays a few sets of tennis with his father Woody, who is a pro, but still gets coached by his son.

Miller's family runs a tennis camp in New Hampshire. His parents are divorced, but they both still live on the same 450 acres where Miller grew up. So does the whole family.

His upbringing was as unconventional as his skiing. His parents were thoroughbred hippies who dropped out of the world to create their own world. They built a house on a mountain where they raised four children. They chose to live without electricity, a telephone, or even indoor plumbing.

Bode Miller's mother, Jo Miller, still splits her own wood to heat her house.

Jo Miller doesn't think it was tough living. "No, I think it was fun. I mean, it was a challenge. And I guess that's where Bode sort of picked up the, you know, the idea of needing a challenge always in his life."

Bode Miller showed 60 Minutes how challenging it was just getting up and down that mountain, or at least the getting up part, which was close to a mile hike through the woods.

There were no roads when he was a kid, but there were plenty of raspberries. He spent his days happily roaming these woods on his own.

"It's nice to be able to spend time alone when you're young," he says. "Lets your imagination do all the stuff that imaginations are supposed to do."

And in the winter Miller would run to the outhouse, which is still there, but not to school because young Bode didn't go to school. He was home-schooled until third grade. His classroom was the great outdoors.

Miller's parents said that at one point they were making only $600 a year and that they were living on that.

"That might be optimistic," Miller says. "That's including inflation. That would be $600 a year now."

He didn't have money, but says he didn't miss it. He also didn't miss school. In fact, not being in school when he was little gave him more time to ski. He could barely afford skis but he had talent, and it did not go unnoticed. Right after high school, he got a spot on the U.S. Ski Team. His parents were behind his success, he says, because they pretty much ignored him.

"So many kids who become athletes are the product of parents who are pushing them every minute of the way, who went to every race and didn't give them dinner if they came in second," Simon said.

Miller says, "And usually those are the kids who burn out and end up being totally laid back, super counterculture hippies like when they're in their 30s and 40s, the kids who are totally nuts and pushed. That's sort of the opposite from me."

His career took off. He wasn't much of a stylist, but he was fast. Then in 2001, the skier famous for falling fell one time too many in St. Anton, Austria. He injured his left knee badly and there was talk on the ski circuit that he would never ski again.

But within a year after surgery, he was winning races again. He even won two silver medals at the 2002 Olympics. He kept up the most grueling schedule of any skier, entering every race three years in a row.

Miller is also known for racing into controversies. He caused quite a stir recently when he said that athletes should only be tested for drugs which are dangerous to their health. Otherwise, he says, leave the athletes alone.

Miller, who has never flunked a drug test, finds the whole process humiliating.

"I just think it's degrading, you know. And it's insulting," he says. "I mean they make you go to the bathroom and pull your pants down to your knees, you know, and hold your shirt up to your chin and pee in a little cup. And it's like you're guilty until proven innocent."

The outspoken American is the darling of the ski set, especially in Europe. He is mobbed by the media, by autograph seekers, by schoolchildren, and by women. When he travels in Europe, he lives in an RV with a friend to try and win some privacy.

He has 13 corporate sponsors. In a sport that people do for love, not money, Bode Miller has become a multi-millionaire which, he says, is a big problem.

"It's a constant struggle. It's really an awesome, corrupting force," he says.

How was he corrupted?

"As soon as you start having millions of dollars, you literally don't any longer have money as a motivating force, unless you just simply try to continue to acquire more and more of it," says Miller. "And that process is about as unhealthy as anything else I can think of. So, the acquisition of money alone is a terrible, terrible goal."

Miller says his goal is having fun. And, according to his coaches, he often has too much of that, especially during the ski season.

Does he think his partying has ever interfered with his performance?

"Definitely. There's been times when I've been in really tough shape at the top of the course," says Miller.

"Talk about a hard challenge right there. I mean, if you ever tried to ski when you're wasted, it's not easy. Try and ski a slalom when the gates are," Miller says, making a hand motion. "You hit a gate less than every one a second, so it's risky, you know. You're putting your life at risk there. It's like driving drunk only there's no rules about it in ski racing."

Is he saying he'll never do it again?

"No. I'm not saying that," Miller says.

"It's very, very dangerous. It'll be tragic the day we're standing there and we end up seeing him in a heap in a pile," says coach Mike Morin.

People worry because this easy going guy never takes it easy. It's not that he is afraid of losing. He doesn't care that much about winning.

For Bode Miller, it's about the perfect run, about flying down that mountain alone, turning a sport into an art form and leaving the world behind.
By Cathy Olian