The Sports Illustrated Olympic Daily is published in Salt Lake City and available in event venues and on newsstands for 16 straight days during the 2002 Winter Games. Here are some sights and scenes from today’s edition.

Combined Combat

Awe-inspiring Aamodt is the man Bode Miller must beat

Aamodt stands at the peak in the Alpine combined. Carl Yarbrough

Alpine combined is not a hot event. Snowboarding? Hot. Moguls? Hot. Alpine combined, in which times in a downhill run and two slalom runs are added together to produce a winner, can feel more like math class than an Olympic event.

But back off for a moment and consider what the elders of the Kitzbüheler Ski Club -- the Austrian Alpine cradle that is home to the storied Hahnenkamm downhill -- write in their race bible: "The winner of the combined, of course, is the true ski champion."

If they are correct -- and it's risky to argue ski racing with the Austrians -- then 31-year-old Kjetil André Aamodt of Norway stands alone in his sport. He has won the Kitzbühel combined title in four of the last five years and in his 13-year World Cup career has finished first, second or third in combined competitions 15 times. Says Croatian slalom specialist Ivica Kostelic of Aamodt, "He is the greatest skier of the moment; we are all little farts compared to him."

Aamodt has won five medals over the span of three Games in four disciplines. Asked this week to describe what it takes to be an effective combined skier, U.S. racer Bode Miller said, "Aamodt."

Today at Snowbasin, Miller stands between Aamodt and a combined gold medal -- and continued reign as the best all-around skier in the world. Aamodt stands between Miller and the first step in what could be a snowballing, three-gold medal run that would send his Q rating through the roof.

The handicapping is simple: Miller must stay close to Aamodt in the downhill and then trounce him in the slalom. Aamodt, who finished fourth in Sunday's downhill, must build a huge lead in the downhill and then stay upright in the slalom. More intrigue: Miller is a hell-bent, all-for-nothing racer who would like to lay it all on the line in the downhill. His coaches, fearful of injury, would like him to play it safe.

And you thought combined was dull.

—Tim Layden

Q: Amid the excesses of the modern Games, just what are some members of the Olympic family giving up for Lent, which begins today? A: Paul Patrick Schwarzacher-Joyce, Ireland, the last-place finisher out of 53 competitors in the men's downhill: "I just might give up downhill racing!" A: Christian Stohr, Switzerland, freestyle skier: "I went to school in a Catholic monastery for seven years, and I'm not giving up anything. This is my first time at the Olympics, and I want to enjoy myself as much as I can." A: Chris Klug, U.S., snowboarder: "I tried to give up chocolate two years ago, and that was way too ambitious for me. I have to think of something a little more reasonable this time around." A: Lisa Kosglow, U.S., snowboarder: "Nothing. I give up something every day."

The Blue-Collar Curler

Two days ago Mike Schneeberger carried a paunch and a 20-ounce bottle of Coke into the United States's opening curling match against defending world champion Sweden. Then, after his squad shocked the Swedes 10-5 at The Ice Sheet at Ogden, Schneeberger begged off doing an interview. "Can you meet me out in the parking lot?" he asked. "I need a cigarette."

Many of the Winter Olympic sports have a touch of glitz. Then there's curling, which wears no sequins on its blue collar. Schneeberger's story is emblematic of that. After playing on two national championship teams, the 39-year-old from Delano, Minn., gave up the sport in 1997 to save money and his marriage. He failed on both accounts. Schneeberger returned to the sport in '99 at the request of U.S. skip Tim Somerville. He is currently going through a divorce (he has a 14-year-old daughter, Kjirsten) and working as a bindery machine operator.

He competes at the sport because he loves, as he says, "to throw rocks." Often, Schneeberger will work a 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. shift at the Timberland Group bindery, then drive 30 minutes to practice. "It's been a struggle," Schneeberger says. "In summer, things get better. You get away from the game."

But, he says, the journey has been worth it. He is here, after all. "Never thought I'd be going to the Olympics," he says. "With a little potbelly and going bald."

—Ivan Maisel

"They're great people to hang out with, and they all speak English." —U.S. short-track speed skater Danny Weinstein on the team's Australian rivals

Shooting Stars?

As of yesterday afternoon, the leading item (at $547 with 18 total bids) out of the 26 available on eBay's Official U.S. Olympic Team Auctions site was one particularly high-caliber offering: a poster autographed by 29 members of the 1996 U.S. Olympic shooting team. Bids close on Feb. 17, so there's still time for that perfect post-Valentine's Day gift.

—Richard Deitsch