Welcome to the mixed zone, or "barnyard journalism"

	It takes the flexibility of Sasha Cohen to jockey for position in the mass chaos of the mixed zone. Simon Bruty/SI
	SI.com's Moments from the Turin Games My Olympic wipeout By Austin Murphy I got a unique taste of the Olympic skiing experience, followed by a ride on a stretcher and an aspirin chaser. Lifetime achievement By Brian Cazeneuve U.S. speedskating star Joey Cheek used his Olympic glory -- and that $25,000 bonus -- to give back. Character study By Tim Layden Bode Miller was a bust in Turin, but another former skiing gold medalist was a hero just for finishing 26th. A night of passion By S.L. Price There was indeed passion in Turin, judging by the crowd from a raucous game between Canada and Russia. That's the spirit By E.M. Swift For years, the Russians have been a major force at the Olympics, but now their fans are finally joining the fun. Grazie, Enrico By Richard Deitsch It was supposed to be a battle of two feuding American skaters, but Enrico Fabris stole the show and the gold. Heil, yeah By Michael Farber Canada's impressive medal haul at the Turin Games got started with a spunky moguls skier from Montreal. Slip sliding away By Kelli Anderson Being a spectator at the bobsled and luge events is a thrill, even if you can only get a fleeting glimpse of action. Close quarters By Yi-Wyn Yen Sometimes you need to have Sasha Cohen's flexibility to cover events from the dreaded mixed zone. Altitude high By Mark Bechtel Supposedly there was a great scene in Turin. However, I spent the Games in the mountain town of Sestriere. A survivor's tale By Richard Demak There were plenty of stories from Turin, but none are anywhere as compelling as that of Primo Levi. More from SI.com SI.com Writers from the Winter Olympics SI photo galleries from the Winter Olympics Complete SI.com Olympics Coverage

I leaned in as far as I could. With one leg parallel to the floor and the other balanced on the balls of my right foot, I looked like Sasha Cohen gliding across the ice in a graceful spiral.

One key difference is that I'm not Jewish. Another is that I wasn't competing in the Olympics. I was covering it. Which is how I came about arching in the sub-basement level of the Palasport ice rink. Jockeying for position with 30 reporters huddled in a half-circle, I extended and lurched forward with my tape recorder to catch every word uttered by U.S. forward Doug Weight after a 3-3 tie to Latvia in the meaningless preliminary round.

Welcome to the mixed zone, otherwise known as "barnyard journalism." This was my first Olympics, and the mixed zone, a designated interview area where athletes are required to pass through a long line of shouty press wags, was where I spent the better part of 17 days. During that time, I covered 30 events in eight sports, where I learned to master the art of interviewing behind very tall reporters at five different mixed zone venues.

I enjoyed the laid-back atmosphere of the mixed zone at the snowboarding venues in Bardonnechia, chilling in the warm afternoon sun, but my fondest memories of hanging in the zone was at the Palasport rink where the men's and women's hockey tournaments were held. There, I traded pins with one of the NHL's public relations's staffers, Jamey Horan, and newspaper gossip with New York Times reporter Lee Jenkins and got asked out on a date by some Canadian guy. I forgot his name, but he was nice.

My colleague, Michael Farber, told me that the Palasport mixed zone was a serious upgrade from the hockey venue at the 1992 Albertville Games that separated the skaters from the press corps through a chicken-wire fence. "It was a somber place. I thought they would stick pieces of bread through the holes," Farber said.

While the mixed zone sites have gotten better, the reporting skills of journalists have not. After Canada was bounced by Russia in the quarterfinals of the men's hockey tournament on the evening of Feb. 22, Canada defenseman Chris Pronger came out to face a group of journalists with their knives sharpened. For several minutes he talked about Team Canada being outperformed, but then came the zinger. Asked one reporter, "So, how does it feel to lose?"

Pronger's comeback: "How do you think it feels?"

A few days later, I'm listening to a new batch of skaters. This time, it's short-track star Apolo Anton Ohno. Unlike the airy basement of the Palasport, the Palavela mixed zone, where all the short-track and figure skating events are held, is cramped and small. This time it's 100 reporters lined up in a room the size of a New York City studio apartment. Five feet tall, I can just see the top of Ohno's bandana as I'm suddenly crushed up against a dozen smelly male armpits. Does the mixed zone get any better than this?