SashaCohen.com

There has never been any doubt about Sasha Cohen's dazzling talent—not since, at 15, she was runner-up to Michelle Kwan at the 2000 U.S. Championships. "She has that quality of looking beautiful while moving exquisitely," says Dick Button, the Olympic skating great turned TV commentator. Four years ago in Salt Lake, many thought Cohen might be the next teen sensation to win Olympic gold. Instead, a bad fall doomed her medal hopes, and a less-ballyhooed 16-year-old, Sarah Hughes, pulled off the upset. "I wanted to win so badly, but I didn't know what it took," says
Cohen.

On Saturday night in St. Louis, Cohen, now 21, began another Olympic odyssey—this time with her first-ever U.S. title. But with Hughes retired and nine-time champ Kwan sidelined by injuries, Cohen's long-awaited triumph over a young, inexperienced field was not viewed as conclusive proof of newfound mettle and purpose. Still, with silver medals at the last two World Championships, Cohen will head to Italy as America's best hope to join a long and illustrious line of skating queens.

"Having skated in Michelle's shadow for so long, Sasha doesn't tend to get credit for all she has accomplished," says her coach, John Nicks. "She's been criticized a lot for
skating badly, but you don't win silver medals if you skate badly." Some of that criticism stems from when Cohen collided with Kwan—by accident, she says—during warm-ups at the Nationals right before the 2002 Olympics.

She was cast as the bad girl in a sport in which America prefers its champions to be sweethearts too. But the harshest judgments have resulted rom dramatic flops in big events, where Cohen doesn't seem to win the silver as much as she loses the gold.

"Sasha falls in such bizarre fashion—often late in the program and on easy jumps or spins that you'd expect her to be able to do with one hand tied behind her back," says
Button.

Cohen has heard whispers that she "chokes" at big events, and she bristles at the notion. She says her performances in major competitions were usually better than anything she did in practice. "My problem," she says, "was I never had the training to back up my talent."

Cohen admits to having been a difficult athlete to coach when she was younger—a bad combination of stubbornness and cluelessness. She preferred to skate arty routines rather than the endless repetitions of critical moves that lead to greater consistency. "I thought if I could complete one of each thing sometime during practice," she says, "then maybe it would all just come together for me at the right moment." She says she has learned the value of more disciplined practice habits and backed them up with a rigorous off-ice conditioning regimen. That should bolster her stamina, helping to
avert late stumbles.

The final missing ingredient was her old coach, Nicks, with whom she reunited a year ago after parting ways following Salt Lake. She regards him as unrivaled in composing a program. That skill is even more essential under the complex new scoring system in which marks, once confined by the perfect 6.0, spiral up over 100. It's up to the coach to plot a sequence of steps, spins and jumps that maximizes scoring potential. But it's up to Cohen to deliver what the judges have always valued most—clean performances.

Cohen says she's "on track." Now if she can just stay on her feet.