IT'S A LEAP OF FAITH.

Byline: STEVE DILBECK

PRAGELATO, Italy - Now this is the Winter Olympics. Large enthusiastic crowds. Flags waving. People dressed like they don't expect to see the sun for three months.

And daredevils flying through the air like Superman without a cape. Also without the invulnerability part.

This is ski jumping, the agony next to the defeat, for the bold and the slightly mad.

Men, mostly young men who might not know any better, hurtle down a steep, icy bank that looks like something you wouldn't want to try on the safest roller coaster, all fastened in with double seat belts.

They release at the end of the ramp and rocket into the air at speeds of 70 mph, traveling as far as 460 feet before landing on packed snow.

This does not qualify as a normal endeavor. This is a sport without guarantees. As in, there's no guarantee you walk away.

You watch the snowboards race down that wild course and say: What a kick. I could try that.

You watch ski jumpers take off on their ramp and say: Not in a thousand lifetimes.

Alan Alborn is America's best ski jumper, and by international standards, he's not all that great.

Alborn currently is ranked 72nd in the World Cup standings. He advanced to Saturday's first round, but failed to make the cut to 30 for the final round. We always stink at ski jumping.

The best ski jumpers typically come from northern European and Scandinavian countries and have names like Lars, Sigurd or the Flying Fin.

Not a lot of Alans. Not a lot of Americans, who lack either the facilities or have too many brain cells.

But Alborn said the allure to his sport is fairly simple: ``Flying.''

Well, there is that, though most of us would prefer the kind that includes a jumbo jet.

Alborn is from Alaska, which probably explains plenty. Just what do you do in Alaska for fun? He's a slim 5 feet, 10 inches and 134 pounds. Think arrow shot through the air, only arrows normally do the damage when they land.

``You definitely have to be ready, but you also have to enjoy it,'' Alborn said. ``You have to be really serious and focused.

``But at the same time, enjoy the speed and the flying. And you have to really enjoy the danger you put yourself in.''

Yeah, there is that. Has anybody forgotten that signature ``Wild World of Sports'' intro where the poor Norwegian jumper crumbled like a doll tossed from the Empire State Building (and remarkably walked away with only a broken hand)?

On Saturday, the crowd was lively and into the proceedings like few Winter Games crowds have been in Italy. They blew horns, played the accordion like they lived next to Heidi, chanted their heroes' names.

And then watched and cheered as the missiles were launched. A lot of the men had walrus mustaches. If they wore any more fur, they'd be on the Mongolian Winter Olympic team.

It was quite festive. They really seemed into it. Maybe it's like NASCAR, in that many secretly come hoping to watch the crash.

Alborn gets a pretty typical response from non-jumping friends over his chosen sport - you must be out of your mind.

``Just about everybody,'' he said. ``But you can't really say too much about it until you try it.

``You just have to push yourself at everything you do, and that's pretty much the same. We're just flying at 60 mph and trying not to hit the snow too hard.''

Saturday's competition was won by Austria's Thomas Morgenstern, a 19-year-old who flew 140 meters (470 feet) to edge countryman Andreas Kofler by one-tenth of a point.

Talk about your agony of defeat.

Alborn, no surprise, is recuperating from a serious injury. The surprise is, he didn't tear up his knee ski jumping off some mammoth inrun but taking a little jump while Alpine skiing.

``I made some dumb mistake on an Alpine hill,'' he said. ``It's just something that happened and I'm still paying for it a year later.''

Alborn said when he learned the knee would require surgery, he had an immediate question.

``The day I hurt my knee, I went straight to the surgeon and asked him: `How long is going to take for me to get back on the jumps?','' he said.

He thought about calling it a career, but the 25-year-old couldn't stay away. Maybe the thrill is like a drug. Maybe it's a great way to meet Swedish women.

``When I hurt my knee last season, going into the summer I was pretty skeptical about even making it back to jumping,'' he said. ``All the muscle disappeared from my leg. I couldn't walk, I couldn't bend my knee. That's pretty humbling.''

Yep, those bunny hills can really bring you down. Those rocket launchers, however, are apparently something else.

Ring those cow bells. This is the traditional Winter Olympics.

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Alan Alborn is the best ski jumper in the U.S., but didn't qualify for the finals.

Murad Sezer/Associated Press