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Profile and significance

Daniel “Dani” Bacher is an Austrian freeski standout whose rapid rise from the Stubai Valley to the sport’s biggest stages made him one of Europe’s most closely watched slopestyle and big air riders. Born in 2004 and based around Innsbruck, he represents Austria’s A-Team and TU Innsbruck in park-and-pipe disciplines, translating junior promise into senior-level hardware with uncommon speed. The headline results arrived early and emphatically: a Big Air bronze at X Games Aspen 2024 at Buttermilk, a World Cup podium with second place at Big Air Chur in October 2023, and Olympic starts at Beijing 2022. Add in double silver medals at the 2021 Junior World Championships and solid Youth Olympic Games finishes in 2020, and the picture is clear: Bacher is a proven contest closer with a style the camera loves and judges reward.

Equally important is how those results were earned. Bacher’s calling card is “playful power”—tail-butter initiations into high-value doubles, precise grabs held long enough to stabilize axis, and a habit of using course architecture in surprising, judge-legible ways. That mix has carried him from local lines on Stubai Glacier to stadium-lit scaffolding and live broadcasts without losing the clarity that drew attention in the first place.

Competitive arc and key venues

Bacher’s pathway tracks cleanly through modern benchmarks. As a teenager he logged sixth in big air and seventh in slopestyle at the 2020 Winter Youth Olympics, then converted that momentum into two silver medals at Junior Worlds in 2021. The senior leap came fast: he qualified for Beijing 2022 at age 17, finishing 21st in big air and 17th in slopestyle in his Olympic debut. The following season opened with a breakthrough World Cup podium—second at the festival-style Big Air stop in Chur—before he stepped onto the biggest non-Olympic stage with bronze in X Games Big Air at Buttermilk in January 2024. The consistency across formats matters: stadium big air, long-panel slopestyle, and pressure-heavy finals have all yielded high-end runs.

Venues explain the shape of that résumé. Stubai’s autumn parks on Stubai Glacier provided early-season repetitions on large, cleanly shaped features, ideal for dialing speed and takeoff timing. The Chur big air—set in Switzerland’s oldest city—demanded precise approach mechanics on a single, consequential jump under lights and cameras. And Buttermilk, home of X Games, rewarded the full package: rail economy, directional variety on jumps, and the composure to adapt when the broadcast environment adds noise.

How they ski: what to watch for

Bacher’s skiing is instantly readable because he makes deliberate choices that keep a run’s shape intact. On rails, approaches are squared early and body position stays stacked, so lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic and exits preserve speed into the next setup. On jumps, he favors measured spin speed and deep, stabilizing grabs that let him hold axis through the apex and land centered. The signatures that popped on his X Games bronze run—creative use of the lip with tail taps, and a switch leftside tail-butter double cork 1440 safety—show how he layers difficulty without sacrificing cadence. When he changes direction or stance, the line keeps breathing; there’s space between moves, which is why his runs look smooth to casual viewers while still scoring with technical panels.

Two tells help you evaluate a Bacher lap. First, the grab timing: he commits early and holds long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate it. Second, the way he “borrows” from buttered entries on the snow to set clean takeoffs for high-risk tricks. Those habits are portable across venues and conditions, which is why his contest skiing seems to travel well from one build to the next.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Bacher’s 2023–24 season highlighted composure as much as difficulty. In Aspen he mixed heavy tricks with showmanship—without letting novelty overwhelm execution—and even handled an in-run mishap without losing momentum in the overall performance narrative. That balance has helped him resonate beyond raw results sheets. Brands have taken notice—he rides for Armada Skis and appears on Monster Energy’s roster—and media coverage has emphasized that his creativity is anchored in fundamentals. For younger skiers, his approach validates a modern blueprint: rehearse clean mechanics at home, bring a distinct trick vocabulary to big builds, and let originality live inside a structured run rather than replacing it.

While contests are the spine of his career to date, Bacher’s clips also translate to film. Short pieces and team edits underline the same values—economical body position, held grabs, and smart speed checks—so his skiing remains watchable on replay without slow-motion crutches. That rewatchability is part of his influence; it turns “style” from a vibe into a set of teachable details.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains a lot about Bacher’s control. Growing up in the Stubai Valley meant frequent laps on the Stubai Glacier, where the early-season park is famous for consistent lips, honest speed, and firm landings that demand centered technique. Innsbruck’s scene adds dense repetition and community—athletes share lines, coaches emphasize detail, and the calendar offers frequent chances to scale tricks before winter arrives in full. When his schedule pulls him outward, those habits stick: in Chur he manages a single-feature spotlight; in Aspen at Buttermilk he sustains momentum across a deep, televised field.

That geographic loop—home repetitions on glacier parks, European city big airs, and North American major-event venues—shows up in how he visualizes courses. Speed control stays honest, trick choices fit the available runway, and landings arrive over the feet rather than as saves.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

With Armada Skis underfoot and Monster Energy support, Bacher’s kit reflects durability and predictable platform feel—exactly what repeated rail contact and high-risk jump attempts require. For progressing skiers, the actionable lessons are straightforward: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski with reinforced edges and a mount point that supports presses without compromising takeoff stability; keep edges tuned to hold on steel but detuned at contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps; and maintain fast bases so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather. Equipment won’t replace technique, but the right platform makes Bacher-style repeatability possible across long contest or filming days.

Beyond hardgoods, look at venue choices as part of the “kit.” Early laps on Stubai Glacier and big-event exposure at Buttermilk create a feedback loop: refine on consistent features, then test under pressure when lights and cameras add variables. That rhythm is a practical template for anyone trying to scale from local parks to international starts.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Dani Bacher matters because he blends creativity with contest-grade clarity. He’s already delivered at X Games, stood on a World Cup podium in Chur, and represented Austria at the Olympic Games—and he did it with runs that make sense in real time. For viewers, that means performances worth rewatching; for skiers, it offers a blueprint built on timing, held grabs, and momentum management rather than on single-use spectacle. If you follow freeski for slopestyle and big air that hold up long after the broadcast, keep Bacher on your radar—the toolkit is proven, and the ceiling is still rising.

Profile and significance

Édouard “Edjoy” Therriault is a Canadian freeski original from Lorraine, Québec, born in 2003, whose blend of creativity and big-ticket execution made him a fixture on World Cup broadcasts and a cult favorite in modern park skiing. After grabbing global attention with big air silver at the 2021 World Championships in Aspen, he added World Cup podiums in both slopestyle and big air, a start at the Olympic Winter Games, and multiple appearances at the X Games. In June 2025, still only 22, he announced he was stepping away from the World Cup start gate to pursue film-forward, art-driven skiing—leaning into the same “frequenski” ethos that has always set him apart. His partners mirror that identity: he rides for Atomic and pours creative energy into projects with Monster Energy, streetwear collective Capeesh Supply, and Québec core retailer D-Structure.

Therriault’s nickname hints at the program. “Edjoy” is both a persona and an instruction: make skiing read like live music. The approach shows up in trick selection, in how he punctuates lines, and in edits that mix painting, filming, and sound design. He is a true crossover—contest-tested yet unmistakably an artist on skis—whose output resonates with park skiers, judges, and casual viewers in equal measure.

Competitive arc and key venues

The progression beats are clear. In 2019 he won junior world slopestyle gold at Sweden’s Kläppen, a venue renowned for shaping world-class park skiers. Two seasons later, at Aspen’s Buttermilk, he landed a clutch final-run switch double bio 1800 to claim silver at the FIS World Championships—Canada’s best big air result at that level at the time. He followed with a first World Cup podium in slopestyle at Font-Romeu in January 2022 and then a big air silver on the stadium jump at Beijing’s Shougang Park in December 2023. Along the way he earned starts at the X Games in Aspen, a setting that rewards both amplitude and personality.

These sites are more than pins on a map. Kläppen compresses decision-making into clean rail work and measured jump speed. Buttermilk demands multi-feature flow under cameras and crowds. Font-Romeu’s Pyrenean light and rhythm emphasize landings that preserve speed. Shougang’s permanent city big air, framed by repurposed steelworks, tests commitment under pressure. As he transitions from tour stops to film missions, expect those habits to translate: precise approaches, trick variety with purpose, and outruns that stay quiet without showy recoveries.

How they ski: what to watch for

Edjoy’s trademark is timing. He commits to grabs early—safety, tail, or blunt to taste—and holds them long enough to calm the axis and keep the shoulders stacked. It’s why his spins, even at 18 and 19 rotations, read as deliberate rather than frantic. Switch entries arrive with proper drift control, not skid; takeoffs are tall and patient; landings finish over the feet with speed intact. On rails he prefers decisive lock-ins and exits that protect line momentum. Nothing feels accidental, yet nothing feels over-coached—the rare balance of skate-inspired looseness and contest-grade precision.

When evaluating a Therriault lap, look for spacing. He leaves room between moves so each trick sets up the next one. Look also at how the grab choice stabilizes the spin instead of decorating it; that discipline keeps axes clean even when the rotation count climbs. The effect is skiing that plays beautifully at normal speed and rewards frame-by-frame rewatching.

Resilience, filming, and influence

World-level highs came early, but the story since 2024 has been autonomy. Injury spells and the grind of qualification reshaped his priorities, culminating in a 2025 decision to step away from World Cup big air and slopestyle. Rather than soft-pedaling, he redirected the same intensity toward projects that merge street features, backcountry booters, and visual art. The result is a rider who still treats difficulty as a canvas, just without the clock. Because he communicates his process—why a certain grab choice steadies a bio axis, how to build speed into short landings—his clips double as teaching material. Younger skiers imitate his patience into lips and his habit of finishing tricks early enough to ride away with composure.

Influence also comes from tone. Edjoy champions style as substance, not garnish. The mantra—be your own jazz—encourages skiers to choose tricks that suit the venue, then execute them with rhythm, not panic. That perspective travels well, whether the setting is an urban kink in Montréal, a spring line on Whistler’s public park, or a single-hit stadium jump.

Geography that built the toolkit

Therriault grew up lapping the Laurentians at Tremblant, where cold Quebec nights and compact snow teach honest edge angles and measured speed checks. As his calendar expanded, the places became teachers: junior world gold at Kläppen reinforced variety and flow; Worlds silver at Buttermilk validated composure on camera; a first World Cup slopestyle podium at Font-Romeu rewarded terrain-reading in variable light; big air silver at Shougang Park proved he could deliver under stadium pressure. Those venues—and the communities surrounding them—explain why his skiing feels centered no matter the build.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Edjoy’s current hardware is straightforward and functional. With Atomic he uses park-capable platforms built for pop and predictable swing weight, ideal for early-grab, measured-spin skiing. Energy and production backing from Monster Energy keeps the cameras rolling when a project needs multiple build days. Apparel from Capeesh Supply and shop support via D-Structure tie him to the creative, rider-run side of the sport.

For skiers trying to borrow from his playbook, the actionable notes are simple. Choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount so butters and presses feel natural without sacrificing stability on takeoff. Keep edges sharp enough to hold on steel but soften contact points to avoid surprise bites. Pick goggle lenses that preserve contrast at dusk, typical of evening sessions at city-style venues like Chur and in flat light common to alpine bowls. Most importantly, treat the grab as a control input: locking it early stabilizes the axis and keeps landings clean.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Édouard Therriault matters because he reconciles freeskiing’s two big impulses—art and sport—without diluting either. He owns a world championship medal, World Cup podiums, and Olympic and X Games credentials, yet he’s equally committed to film segments that advance style, sound, and story. The skiing itself is readable at full speed, the choices are intentional, and the execution holds up under the brightest lights. Whether you watch for slopestyle craft, big air nerve, or the next wave of street-influenced edits, Edjoy offers a blueprint: creativity first, mechanics tight, momentum preserved. That combination is why he sits near the center of freeski culture even as he steps away from ranking points and leans harder into the work that made his name.

Profile and significance

Ferdinand “Ferdi” Dahl is a Norwegian freeski original whose blend of contest pedigree and culture-building has made him one of the most influential park and street skiers of his generation. Born in 1998 and raised around Oslo, he broke through on the biggest stages with multiple medals at the X Games—slopestyle bronze in 2019, slopestyle silver in 2021, and slopestyle bronze again in 2023—while stacking nine FIS World Cup podiums and two Olympic appearances, including an eighth place in slopestyle at PyeongChang 2018. Those results alone would secure his status. But Dahl’s impact extends further: he co-founded the rider-led Jib League series that reframed what a freeski “contest” could be, and he channels his design sensibility into the apparel label Capeesh Supply. The result is a rare dual footprint—elite competitor and thoughtful scene shaper—whose skiing reads clearly at full speed and whose projects elevate the wider culture.

Today, Dahl’s priorities span performance and stewardship. You’ll still see him under stadium lights at Buttermilk in Aspen during X Games week or dropping mid-winter edits from Europe and North America. You’ll also see him building spaces for others to shine, whether that’s hosting a jam-style Jib League stop with fellow founders James “Woodsy” Woods and Øystein Bråten, or releasing small-batch garments that carry Capeesh’s playful, skaterly aesthetic. He skis for Vishnu Freeski and rides with Monster Energy, a sponsor mix that mirrors his commitment to rider-run creativity and broadcast-level execution.

Competitive arc and key venues

Dahl’s contest résumé maps the modern freeski ladder. Early Europa Cup and World Cup starts led to a breakout Olympic debut at the PyeongChang 2018 Games, staged at Korea’s Phoenix Park, where he placed eighth in men’s slopestyle. World Cup consistency followed, culminating in nine podiums and back-to-back seasons ranked among the very best in slopestyle overall. In Aspen, the X Games medals arrived across four winters, validating a trick vocabulary and run composition that judges reward and fans replay.

Venue context explains why his skiing travels so well. Buttermilk rewards multi-feature flow and line design under heavy camera pressure; Phoenix Park’s Olympic stage compresses everything into immaculate takeoffs and unforgiving landings; Austria’s in-city Nordkette Skyline Park demands cadence on dense rail panels; Sweden’s Kläppen serves long spring laps where measured speed and early commitments separate a good run from a great one. As Dahl pivoted some focus toward film and rider-led events, he didn’t abandon competition; he reframed it. Jib League’s jam format—skier voting, style-forward criteria—moved the needle while keeping the difficulty and clarity that defined his World Cup and X Games success.

How they ski: what to watch for

Dahl’s skiing is a case study in readable difficulty. On rails, approaches are squared early, body position stays stacked, and lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic. Surface swaps resolve cleanly; presses have shape instead of wobble; exits protect momentum into the next setup. On jumps, he favors measured spin speed and deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt held long enough to stabilize the axis. That early grab timing keeps shoulders quiet and landings centered, so the outrun breathes instead of becoming a last-second save. Directional variety—forward and switch, left and right—shows up without breaking cadence because every choice serves the line.

Two tells help you “read” a Dahl run in real time. First, spacing. He leaves room between moves, so each trick creates setup for the next one rather than stealing from it. Second, grab discipline. The hand finds the ski early and stays there long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That’s why even his bigger spins look calm, and why editors can present his clips at normal speed without resorting to slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Longevity at the top level requires adaptation. After years of traveling the World Cup and major-event circuit, Dahl broadened his canvas: spring projects in the Alps, on-camera head-to-heads in SLVSH games, and the co-creation of Jib League with Woods and Bråten. The through-line is composure. Whether the setting is a single-hit scaffolding jump, a multi-feature slopestyle course, or a dense rail garden at Nordkette, he protects speed, commits to control inputs early, and finishes tricks with enough time to ride away clean. That reliability earns trust—from judges tallying slopestyle scores, from peers voting in jam formats, and from filmmakers who want clips that hold up after ten replays.

Influence shows up far beyond podium photos. Jib League’s format centers skiers as voters and storytellers, and its stops have become required viewing for anyone who cares how style and difficulty can coexist. Capeesh, meanwhile, exports the same ethos via apparel drops and creative videos—small teams, rider agency, humor intact. Add in years of high-profile clips and a deep library of World Cup runs archived at Olympics.com, and you have a body of work that doubles as instruction: honest speed, early commitments, centered landings.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Dahl’s skiing. Oslo’s compact hills and firm winter snow built edge honesty and quick decision-making; repeated laps discipline the feet and hands. The Alps supplied longer radii and faster in-runs, especially at Nordkette, where dense features reward timing and rail economy. Spring blocks at Kläppen layered in rhythm on creative setups and medium-to-large booters, and the annual pilgrimage to Buttermilk honed broadcast composure. On the Olympic stage at Phoenix Park, he proved those habits survive the brightest lights. Stitch those environments together and you get a toolkit that travels: protect momentum, manage spin speed with the grab, and keep the run’s shape intact from first rail to last landing.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Dahl’s current setup mirrors his philosophy. With Vishnu Freeski he rides a park-capable platform with balanced swing weight and reinforced edges that tolerate repeated rail contact without unpredictable flex. Energy and event support from Monster Energy keeps the spotlight on projects that showcase skier agency, while Capeesh Supply lets him translate taste into design. If you’re looking to borrow from his gear decisions, the lesson is category fit over model names: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski, mount it so butters and presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability, keep bases fast so cadence survives cold or salt, and tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps. Equipment won’t replace timing, but the right platform makes good timing repeatable across long filming days and pressure-heavy finals.

Equally practical is how he structures a season. Early repetitions on consistent parks sharpen approach mechanics; jam-style events test composure under variable pace and crowd energy; and marquee weeks at places like Buttermilk demand the full package—rail clarity, directional variety on jumps, and airtight landings. That rhythm is a template ambitious riders can copy on the path from local edits to international relevance.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Ferdinand Dahl matters because he turns elite difficulty into clarity and then uses his platform to grow the culture around it. He owns multiple X Games medals, deep World Cup credentials, and Olympic finals experience, yet he’s just as committed to rider-run spaces like Jib League and to creative output through Capeesh. The skiing itself is easy to follow at normal speed because the mechanics are honest: early grab commitment, measured spin speed, and landings that preserve momentum for the next move. For viewers, that means segments worth replaying; for developing skiers, it offers a concrete checklist—square the approach, use the grab as a control input, finish the trick early, and let the line breathe. That combination of results, readability, and stewardship is why Ferdi sits at the center of freeski culture today, whether the backdrop is an Olympic venue, a televised course in Colorado, or a rail garden above Innsbruck.