Nyman performed consistently well in only his second year on the World Cup. He stared down some of the world's most daunting courses this year and proved to be, if not exactly fearless (Brigham thinks it's not the right word), then aggressive. There is no ignoring the dangers of streaking down a mountain at 80 miles per hour, even for the most talented downhill racers.

"I think about it all the time; every time I'm in the gate," Nyman says. "I think, 'Why am I doing this?"' He faced his moment of truth as he stood in the starting gate at Kitzbuhel, Austria, the most notorious downhill on the tour — "the Super Bowl of DHs," says one veteran observer. "The mac daddy of scary DHs." It's steep, icy and fast. Many years ago, a veteran American skier eyed the gnarly, steep course as he stood in the gate at Kitzbuehel, then backed out and retired on the spot.

"I stood up there and thought, this is crazy; I don't want to do this," says Nyman. "But I don't want to be that guy everyone is talking about."

He pauses. "But I do it," he continues, referring to the downhill. "I love it. No matter what, even if you suck, you have a smile on your face at the finish. It's so fun."

Nyman is just what the doctor ordered for the U.S. ski team: a breath of a fresh air, the anti-Bode. At the 2006 Winter Games, Bode Miller was the Cloud of Turin, openly partying all night, even bragging about it and rubbing the team's (and America's) face in it. He was surly, selfish and loutish and performed exactly like a man who had been partying all night. He whiffed in five races.

Nyman is open and friendly and leaves no doubt that he's glad to be skiing for a living.

"He's a great kid and fun to be around," says Brigham.

Nyman is a big, laid-back Orem High graduate, and beyond that good luck trying to pin a label on him. He's a long-haired, pony-tailed free spirit who believes in homeopathic remedies, cosmic energy, environmentalism and the Book of Mormon all at once. He goes to church on Sunday and goes to bars with his teammates to celebrate victories, toasting them with a Coke.

"I've come to learn what I want," he says. "People respect your desires. It's not as tough as people think (being a Mormon). It has to be that way. I travel with an eclectic group; it has to accept all types of people."

That comes easily for the easygoing Nyman.

"I've never seen him have any feuds," says Ligety, who has known Nyman for 10 years. "A lot of people have this image (of ski racers) as uptight. He's the complete opposite. He's definitely laid back."

But not when it comes to racing and skiing.