Olympics: Curt grabs a gold!

Curt Tomasevicz didn't even have to look at the clock.

He crossed the finish line, yanked on the brakes, leaned back, lifted his eyes toward the sky and screamed.

Gold. Finally.

In 1924, the world's best skiers and skaters converged on the French Alps and staged the first Winter Olympics. Not once in 86 years since had a born-and-raised Nebraskan won a Winter Olympics medal.

In 1948, the United States captured gold in the four-man bobsled, that time on a mountain in Switzerland. Not once in 62 years since had an American bobsledder beaten the world.

Tomasevicz and USA Team 1 obliterated each streak Saturday, riding the “Night Train” to bobsled gold near Vancouver.

Tomasevicz told The World-Herald he had an idea of what it might be like to win the gold, especially after his team grabbed the lead.

“But when it actually happened, it's not what you expect," he said. “This is different. This is real life. This is crazy."

To Tomasevicz, a Shelby, Neb., native and former Nebraska football player, the time — 3 minutes, 24.46 seconds — represents a life-changing accomplishment. To the U.S. Olympic contingent, the bobsled was simply icing on an already sterling performance in Vancouver.

“The (Americans) embarrassed the field,” said Canada's Lyndon Rush, who won bronze. “They showed up in our backyard, and it's kind of like the theme of these Olympic Games.”

For the first time since 1932, the United States is expected to finish first in the medal count when the Games end today.

People in Tomasevicz's hometown cared about only one medal Saturday.

At 5 p.m., a Dell laptop sat open on a table in the corner of the A&B Lounge, face to the wall. Only manager Kellan Perry knew what it said.

Meanwhile, patrons shuffled into the A&B, oblivious to Tomasevicz's success in Vancouver. They had made a pact: Nobody talks. Wait for the tape-delayed NBC coverage. Yes, even if that's a four- or five-hour wait.

Perry couldn't wait that long.

So he checked the Web every few minutes. Finally, at 5:30, he got the information he wanted: 51.52 seconds on the last run.

His insides leapt. He wanted to tell someone, but his wife swore him to secrecy.

In fact, the most common phrase here was, “Don't tell me. I don't want to know.”

By 7 p.m., the main drag in Shelby was cold, dark and quiet. But inside the A&B, 150 people crowded around seven TVs. Two doors down, 75 watched on four TVs at another bar, Shelby Hotel.

The scene was half New Year's Eve, half Fourth of July. Most wore black T-shirts, “Night Train” printed in gold ink across the chest.

The crowd wouldn't be so large if just any Shelby kid made it big, Bill Brigham said.

“It's who Curt is as much as what he does,” he said.

At 8 p.m., USA Team 1 pilot Steve Holcomb was back on the TV screens. Cheers erupted from each corner of the bar. A woman clanged a cowbell.

“U-S-A! U-S-A!”

The third run began — 4½ hours after it actually happened. More cheers as Tomasevicz pushed the sled off the starting line.

“Just keep the thing upright,” someone said.

The U.S. dashed down the ice just as it had Friday, increasing its lead to 0.45 seconds, an eternity in bobsledding.

But no celebration in Shelby, not yet. Tomasevicz still needed one more run. And the tricky “50-50” curve was no cinch, even if Holcomb drove with the caution of a teenager borrowing dad's Cadillac.

They waited and waited at the bar. Finally, NBC came back to bobsledding.

“Let's go, boys!”

Off the start line without a hitch. Through the 50-50 turn. Across the finish line. The people in Shelby don't see it, but Tomasevicz's mom, sitting trackside, sees her son leave the sled and pump his fist: “Yes!”

She sees him plant a kiss on Holcomb's bald, sweaty head. She embraces the bouquet he throws to her.

“I'm so excited I can't stop crying,” Amy Tomasevicz said a few hours later. “You can't even imagine the feeling.”

Monday morning, she'll be back at Aquinas High School in David City. Homeroom starts at 8 a.m.

Not before a medal ceremony. Bob Costas tells TV viewers that Shelby has 690 people.

“I'm almost certain he's the most famous person in Shelby, Neb.,” Costas says.

Back home, elementary teachers and T-ball coaches and mothers of classmates prepare to release tension. Soon they'll dance in the cold.

They see Tomasevicz standing atop the medal stand, gold hanging around his neck. They hear the first notes of “The Star-Spangled Banner.''

They put down their drinks, stand quietly and touch hands to their hearts.

This report includes material from the Associated Press.

Contact the writer:

402-649-1461, dirk.chatelain@owh.com