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.

Next Stop, Torino

The Winter Games say arrivederci to Salt Lake City

Simon Bruty "My next goal is to get in the high 1,500s on my SATs." —Figure skating gold medalist Sarah Hughes on her post-Games plans

Turin is doing some building of its own. Construction will begin this year on the Olympic Village, a hockey arena, the ski jumps and a venue for bob, slittino e skeleton. Already organizers have experienced some Olympic headaches. Tests of the soil at the bobsled site found a high level of asbestos. Alternate sites are being scouted, though the Piedmont doesn't offer the expanse of land that so impressed Castellani in Utah. "You don't have wide spaces in the Alps," he said. "Not that it's better or worse, just different."

Fair enough, but one thing will be both different and better: the cuisine. "Green jello?" said Andrea Varnier, the Turin committee's managing director of image and communication. "I don't think so. Only if someone brings it over."

—Ivan Maisel

He Reigns in Spain

Q: What does the K stand for in the K90 and K120 hills in ski jumping events? A: K comes from the German phrase kritischer punkt, meaning critical point, which is the spot at which the landing hill stops falling and begins to flatten. That point is 120 meters from the takeoff on the K120, or large hill, and 90 meters on the K90, or normal hill. (Switzerland's Simon Ammann took gold in both the normal and the large hill in Salt Lake.) So what makes the punkt so kritischer? A jumper gets 60 distance points for reaching the K point and 1.8 points for every meter past (or 2.0 points for the normal hill). If he fails to reach the K point, the jumper receives 60 points minus 1.8 points for every meter short. "On every jump a ski jumper's mentality is to set a hill record," says Alan Johnson, ski jumping manager at Utah Olympic Park. "He's not going to set a record without first flying the K point." —Gene Menez

Spain's ski team is small, modestly funded and unheralded, all of which is O.K. with its finest athlete, Johann Muehlegg, a native of ski-obsessed Germany. After a disappointing 1997-98 season competing for his homeland, Muehlegg, an 11-year veteran of the German team, switched allegiances and has dominated the cross-country circuit ever since.

Muehlegg made his move because he never felt at home on Germany's squad. In 1994 he accused German coaches of using black magic to make him sick. By '98, overweight and frustrated, Muehlegg began talking to other national team coaches and quickly felt a kinship with the Spanish.

He established a residence in Madrid in 1999 (he also often stays in Grainau, Germany) and began stepping up his altitude training and honing his technique. Now Muehlegg, 31, is known for his seemingly supernatural endurance. Last year he blew away the field to win the world championship in the 50-km freestyle, the distance in which he'll compete in classical today. Already in Salt Lake he has won the 30-km freestyle and the pursuit. "We were astonished by his good shape," says German team spokesman Stefan Schwarzbach, who denies that the Germans are angling to get Muehlegg back. "We're glad that Johann is finally happy."

—Kelley King

Goodwill Games

At the Olympics passions may run high on the ice and the slopes, but the athletes, coaches and officials gathered in Salt Lake have again and again made it clear that sportsmanship is alive and well. Consider the following examples.