MILAN — In a poignant moment that bridged generations of American ski racing, Lindsey Vonn donned a pair of weathered white gloves from her childhood hero Picabo Street before embarking on the downhill run that would end her competitive career in dramatic fashion. The gesture, rich with symbolism and history, transformed a simple piece of equipment into a powerful talisman connecting two legendary athletes.
The gloves, discontinued years ago and bearing the unmistakable marks of time, carried far more than physical warmth. Across the knuckles, the brand name "reusch" remained visible in faded lettering, while a prominent plum-colored sun adorned the top—a design detail immortalized on Street's bronze statue in Sun Valley, Idaho. Street's initials, scribbled in permanent marker on the wrist straps, served as a personal testament to their original owner and the countless runs they had witnessed.
Vonn's decision to wear the gloves remained private until after the incident. Neither the skier herself nor NBC, which had strategically positioned Street at the starting gate as a color commentator for Sunday's event, publicized the meaningful exchange beforehand. It was only in the aftermath, as the skiing community processed the shocking conclusion to Vonn's career, that the story emerged, revealing the profound depth of their connection and the emotional weight carried in those weathered gloves.
The two skiing legends had arranged the transfer of these historic gloves weeks before the Olympic Games began. According to Street's account, the idea sparked when Vonn saw a photograph of Street wearing them during her competitive prime. Recognizing their nostalgic value and emotional significance, Street gladly offered them from her personal collection, understanding they would carry special meaning for her protégé.
"It was just my way of being able to show her that, you know, I love you and I believe in you," Street explained in a voice thick with emotion. "And wear these, they'll be fun." The simple words belied the complex feelings of a mentor watching her hero take on one final challenge.
The symbolism ran deeper than mere memorabilia. These particular gloves occupy a sacred place in skiing history, forever captured in bronze on Street's statue in Sun Valley. The distinctive sun logo is clearly visible in the sculpted recreation, making them an iconic part of Street's legacy and a recognizable artifact to serious skiing enthusiasts. For Vonn to wear them was to literally carry her idol's legacy down the mountain.
Their friendship spans decades, forged during their overlapping time on the U.S. Ski Team in the early 2000s. Street was winding down her remarkable career while Vonn was just beginning hers, creating a mentorship bond that evolved into genuine closeness. Vonn's admiration for Street was so profound that she co-produced the documentary "Picabo," telling her hero's story to a new generation of fans who might not remember Street's dominance on the slopes. In that film, Vonn's voice trembles with sincerity as she tells Street, "You are my hero."
Street, whose aggressive skiing style and distinctive first name made her a pop-culture phenomenon during her competitive years in the 1990s, has become one of Vonn's biggest supporters and closest confidants. Throughout interviews following the crash, she consistently deflected attention away from herself, insisting with characteristic humility, "I'm not the story here, so this isn't about me."
Yet the parallels between their careers have become impossible to ignore, particularly surrounding Vonn's final run. As the 13th skier in the starting lineup, Vonn's descent lasted exactly 13 seconds before a violent crash shattered her left leg and brought her storied career to an abrupt end. The number carried haunting significance for Street, who suffered her own career-altering broken left leg during a race held on Friday the 13th in Crans Montana, Switzerland, nearly two decades earlier.
That location held additional weight, as it was the same venue where Vonn had previously sustained a ruptured anterior cruciate ligament in a fall at the end of January during a World Cup event, adding another layer to their shared history of injuries and resilience. The mountain seemed to cast a long shadow over both champions.
When Street discovered Vonn's bib number the night before the race, dread consumed her. "I about puked when I saw number 13," she admitted, her voice still shaking with the memory. The premonition proved overwhelming, robbing her of sleep and filling her with a sense of foreboding she couldn't shake despite her best efforts to remain positive. "I got very little sleep. I cried all night long, and I cried in the morning. I couldn't shake it."
Her concern throughout race day wasn't about competition or glory, but purely for her friend's wellbeing. The emotional weight of watching Vonn descend the Olimpia delle Tofane course while wearing her historic gloves, combined with the ominous number 13, created an almost unbearable tension for Street, who struggled to maintain her professional composure for the broadcast.
In the aftermath of the crash, Street's priorities have remained clear and focused on Vonn's future quality of life. Competitive skiing no longer matters; what matters is recovery and the ability to live fully without chronic pain or limitation.
"I want her leg to work for her," Street stated with simple, profound concern. "I want her nerves to work for her. I want her to have function of her whole body again, and in case she wants to have a family, she can play with her kids." The statement reflected a mother's worry, not just a colleague's concern.
The gloves, now perhaps even more legendary, represent a passing of the torch between two of America's greatest ski champions. They carried Street's spirit and history down a mountain in Italy, creating an indelible moment that connects their legacies forever in the annals of skiing lore. While Vonn's competitive journey ended in pain and tragedy, the love and respect between these two athletes remains the true story—one of mentorship, friendship, and the powerful bonds that transcend sport and time.
As Vonn faces her recovery and the daunting prospect of life after competitive skiing, she does so with the knowledge that her hero's gloves were with her in her final moment of competition, a tangible symbol of belief and support from someone who understood exactly what she was risking. For Street, the gloves' return to the spotlight, however bittersweet, reinforces the enduring connection between two women who pushed the boundaries of their sport and found sisterhood along the way. The story of those weathered white gloves will now be told for generations, a reminder that in sports, as in life, the human connections matter far more than the medals.