Real Ski 2019: FULL BROADCAST | World of X Games

Profile and significance

Alex Beaulieu-Marchand—universally known as ABM—is one of the defining Canadian freeskiers of his era, bridging elite contests and high-level filming with rare consistency. Born in Quebec City in 1994, he delivered a landmark result for Canada when he earned Olympic bronze in men’s ski slopestyle at PyeongChang 2018. That medal, combined with a haul of five X Games medals across slopestyle, big air, and Real Ski, and a 2019 FIS World Championships big air bronze in Park City, places him among the most decorated all-around freeskiers of the past decade. Just as importantly for fans, ABM is a rare athlete whose style reads as clearly on a slopestyle course as it does in an urban segment, making him essential viewing whether you follow competitions, street skiing, or both.

ABM’s reputation rests on substance more than hype. He first appeared at the Olympics as a finalist at Sochi 2014, overcame major injuries in the seasons that followed, and then returned to the very top of the sport by the end of the decade. His ski IQ—especially on rails—turned into a calling card: clean lock-ins, directional changes with purpose, and landings that keep speed alive for the next feature. That polish helps explain how he could step from podium moments at Aspen into the all-street format of Real Ski and still earn a medal there too. Few riders thread that needle as convincingly.

Competitive arc and key venues

ABM’s competitive arc traces the modern freeski pathway: early World Cups and Dew Tour appearances, a breakout X Games podium, and then a sustained period of podium-level runs at the sport’s headline events. He won slopestyle bronze at X Games Aspen in 2017, followed by the signature moment of his career—the Olympic bronze at PyeongChang 2018. In 2019 he produced one of the strongest single-year résumés of anyone in freeskiing: silver in big air and silver in slopestyle at Aspen Snowmass, bronze in Real Ski, and another big air bronze at the X Games stop in Norway. That same winter he added a World Championships bronze in big air at Park City, cementing his versatility.

Venues matter in how his skiing matured. Aspen has long been the proving ground for ABM’s jump and rail balance, while Breckenridge nurtured his early Dew Tour success and gave him the repetitions needed to scale tricks to XL features. Closer to home, the park culture around Quebec City—including Le Relais and Stoneham—fed his rail precision and urban instincts. It’s a circuit that spans manicured, high-speed courses and gritty winter cityscapes, and ABM has shown he can translate between the two without losing his identity.

How they ski: what to watch for

ABM’s skiing is built around clarity of intent. On rails, he emphasizes early edge commitment and solid center-of-mass control, which allows him to execute technical switch-ups and directional changes without scrambling. His exits are deliberate—he protects speed into the next panel of features, an asset in modern slopestyle scoring where momentum and link-up difficulty matter. On jumps, he’s known for precise takeoff timing and full-value grabs that stabilize rotations. You’ll often see him set rotations early and stay stacked in the air, enabling crisp axis control on doubles and triples and giving him options to alter grab sequences mid-spin.

What to watch in a run: ABM’s ability to vary spin direction and stance while keeping a consistent line speed. He can open rails with a high-difficulty lock-in, carry that speed to a left-spinning jump with a deep grab, then change direction for a switch takeoff on the next hit. The effect is a run that looks smooth to casual viewers but reveals dense technical content to experienced eyes. It’s the same economy you see in his street work—precise approaches, stable body position on impact, and clean outruns that don’t need dramatic recoveries to hold your attention.

Resilience, filming, and influence

ABM’s career includes significant injuries—collarbone, knee—that could have derailed momentum. Instead, those setbacks became inflection points. The comeback culminated in his Olympic bronze and the medal-laden 2019 campaign, but the long-term impact is broader: he demonstrated that a rail-forward technician could thrive in the biggest-air era by leaning into fundamentals and incremental difficulty gains rather than one-off risk. That template has influenced younger riders who prioritize repeatability and line design.

Filming has always been part of ABM’s identity. His Real Ski bronze established his credentials in the all-urban format. Later projects, including the short film “Mirage,” showcase a mature approach to concept and terrain selection, shifting seamlessly from park to natural features while keeping the same commitment to control and trick shape. For brands and fans alike, this duality—contest readiness paired with art-forward filming—makes ABM one of the sport’s most watchable athletes year-round.

Geography that built the toolkit

Quebec City winters shaped ABM’s toolset. Long, cold seasons and consistent snowfall give urban spots staying power, and the local lifts serve up the repetitions that turn rail ideas into habits. Laps at Le Relais and sessions at Stoneham honed timing on smaller, quicker features where approach and exit angles are unforgiving. That background helps explain his composure on World Cup-scale rails and why his street segments feel both ambitious and controlled.

On the contest circuit, Aspen Snowmass offered the clearest mirror for his best form, while Breckenridge remains synonymous with progression blocks where he added jump variety without sacrificing landing shape. The World Championship stage at Park City validated his big-air credentials in a setting known for meticulous jumps and high elevation, a combination that spotlights takeoff discipline and mid-air stability—two of ABM’s strengths.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

ABM rides Völkl skis with Marker bindings and wears Orage outerwear and Auclair gloves. The through-line across that kit is dependable platform feel and durability for both park laps and urban impacts. For progressing skiers using ABM as a model, the practical notes are straightforward: choose a park-capable ski with a balanced flex that allows proper presses on rails but won’t fold on large takeoffs; pair it with bindings that deliver elastic travel and predictable release; and invest in outerwear and gloves that keep mobility high across sub-zero sessions common to Quebec winters and late-night street shoots.

ABM’s gear choices support his style rather than define it. Even in the era of triple-cork arms races, his runs stand out because grabs are held, spin directions alternate, and landings are purposefully centered. Equipment is there to enable those habits; the technique makes them count.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

ABM matters because he shows what modern freeski completeness looks like: an Olympic medalist who can still film an urban segment worth replaying; a five-time X Games medalist whose best traits are accessible to learn from; a technician who treats rails as the backbone of a run and jumps as the canvas for clean, directionally varied tricks. If you’re watching slopestyle and big air to spot runs that age well on rewatch, ABM’s are a safe bet. If you’re a skier refining your own park game, study his line speed, his early grab timing, and how he exits rails with the next feature already in mind. That is the blueprint that took him from Quebec parks and streets to podiums at Aspen, Park City, and PyeongChang, and it’s why his skiing continues to resonate well beyond the scoreboard.

Profile and significance

Henrik “E-Dollo” Harlaut is one of freeskiing’s defining figures, a Swedish original whose blend of contest dominance, film culture, and scene-building has shaped how park and street skiing look and feel. A two-time Olympian for Sweden and a multi-time medalist at the X Games, he holds the all-time records for Ski golds and total Ski medals at that event. His 2013 Big Air breakthrough—landing the first nose-butter triple cork 1620 on the Aspen stage—reset expectations for what creative, controlled progression could be. Beyond podiums, Harlaut helped lead a rider-first movement through the B&E era with Phil Casabon, co-hosting the B&E Invitational in France and elevating film parts and tours that centered style as substance.

Harlaut’s brand ecosystem mirrors that identity. He rides for Armada Skis and headlines his own street-savvy label, Harlaut Apparel, while long-running support from Monster Energy has kept cameras on his projects from Scandi parks to city rails. The result is a rare dual footprint—elite competitor and cultural steward—whose skiing reads clearly at full speed and whose projects continue to influence how freeski stories are told.

Competitive arc and key venues

Harlaut’s contest résumé traces the modern ladder. He announced himself to a global audience at Aspen’s Buttermilk, where his Big Air gold and that historic nose-butter triple 16 became part of freeski lore. In the years that followed he stacked Big Air and Slopestyle medals across Aspen and Europe, and even added the newer Knuckle Huck title to underline his versatility. On the Olympic stage he represented Sweden at Sochi 2014—finishing sixth in slopestyle—and returned at PyeongChang 2018, a testament to endurance in a field where the trick list never stops evolving.

Venue context explains why his runs travel so well. Buttermilk rewards multi-feature flow and composure under heavy cameras. Oslo’s and Norway’s stadium builds prize amplitude on single hits. Spring blocks at Sweden’s Kläppen refine rhythm and variety across dense rail sections and medium-to-large booters. Olympic courses—from Sochi’s expansive build to the sculpted lines at Korea’s Phoenix Park—demand immaculate takeoffs and exact landings. Across those settings, Harlaut’s hallmark has been readability: tricks that make sense at normal speed because the inputs are functional and on time.

How they ski: what to watch for

Harlaut skis with deliberate economy and musical timing. On rails, approaches square up early, the body stays stacked, and lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic. Surface swaps resolve cleanly; presses have visible shape; exits protect speed for what’s next. On jumps, he manages spin speed with deep, stabilizing grabs—safety, tail, blunt—arriving early enough to calm the axis and keep the hips centered over the feet. Directional variety—forward and switch, left and right—appears without breaking cadence because every move serves the line instead of a checklist.

Two cues help you “read” a Harlaut lap in real time. First, spacing: he leaves room between tricks so each one sets angle and speed for the next, a habit that makes full runs feel like sentences rather than word salad. Second, grab discipline: hands find the ski early and stay long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That approach explains why even his biggest spins look unhurried—and why editors can present his shots at normal speed without slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Results alone would place Harlaut among the greats; his cultural work cements it. With Phil Casabon he hosted the B&E Invitational at Les Arcs, a rider-designed jam that treated slopestyle as an open canvas and set a template for today’s style-first showcases. On film, he’s produced projects that framed progression as story, from the two-year deep dive “Salute” to the wider canon built with Inspired-era collaborators. The common thread is clarity: honest speed, early commitments, centered landings. That’s why his parts age well—you can see the trick math at 1x speed—and why younger riders can copy the mechanics without needing a mega-budget build.

Harlaut’s influence also shows in how brands and events talk about skiing. He helped normalize the idea that style is not garnish but technique—grab choice that stabilizes an axis, spacing that preserves momentum, and rail decisions that protect cadence. As new disciplines and formats appear, the standard he champions remains the same: make difficulty legible, so viewers feel it the first time and still find details on the tenth watch.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Harlaut’s skiing. He moved to Åre as a kid, and the resort’s varied pistes and night laps forged edge honesty and repetition; if you want to understand the base layer, start with the discipline that Scandinavia’s firm snow demands. Spring sections at Kläppen layered in rhythm on dense features, teaching him to protect speed through quick in-runs and short outruns. The annual pilgrimage to Aspen’s Buttermilk sharpened broadcast composure, while European city builds and invitational courses rewarded creativity and line design. Stitch those environments together and you get a toolkit that travels: patient takeoffs, functional grabs, tidy exits, and runs that hold their shape from first rail to last landing.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Harlaut’s kit is built for repeatability and feel. With Armada he’s long ridden park-capable platforms tuned for pop and predictable swing weight, a setup that rewards nose-butter entries and early-grab spins. Apparel through Harlaut Apparel leans into rider-led durability and movement on long filming days, while backing from Monster Energy helps turn ambitious concepts into finished films and event moments. For skiers borrowing from his playbook, the hardware lesson is category fit over hype: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski, mount it so butters and presses feel natural without sacrificing takeoff stability, keep bases fast so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather, and tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps.

There’s a process lesson, too. Build lines around momentum. Use the grab as a control input rather than decoration. Finish tricks early enough to ride away with speed and time. Those habits are why Harlaut’s biggest moments—whether a stadium jump in Aspen or a creative rail garden at a spring session—read cleanly on camera and hold up on rewatch.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Henrik Harlaut matters because he turned elite difficulty into a language anyone can follow and then used his platform to grow the culture around it. He has the X Games medal record to satisfy the stats crowd and a film-and-event legacy that continues to pull the sport toward rider agency and style with substance. The skiing itself is readable at full speed, the choices are intentional, and the execution holds up under the brightest lights. For viewers, that means segments and finals worth replaying; for developing riders, it’s a checklist you can practice on the next lap. Protect momentum, commit early, let the spot decide the move—and make it look good because the mechanics are honest. That’s the Harlaut blueprint, and it’s why his influence runs from Åre to Aspen and across every park where skiers learn to turn hard things into clear, compelling lines.

Profile and significance

Jake “Mango” Mageau is a style leader in modern freeskiing whose work bridges contest credibility and film-first influence. Born in Hawaii and raised in Bend, Oregon, he came up through park laps at Mt. Bachelor before detouring into halfpipe with the U.S. rookie pipeline, then ultimately pointing his compass toward street and creative resort skiing. His global breakthrough came with X Games Real Ski 2020, where his all-urban part with Oliver Hoblitzelle won gold after earning Fan Favorite the previous year. That result validated what core skiers already knew from his early edits: Mageau’s difficulty reads clearly at full speed because the mechanics are functional and on time. Since then, he’s doubled down on films with Level 1—“Freehand” in 2021, “Something in the Water” in 2022, and “Wind for Whistles” in 2023—projects that cemented his reputation for turning everyday features into memorable lines.

Brand partners reflect that identity. ON3P shaped an entire three-width pro collection around his skiing—the Mango series—while outerwear support from 686 has helped bring his small-crew projects to life. The through-line is rider-led craft: durable, predictable platforms and apparel that let timing, not tech gimmicks, take center stage on city metal and spring parks alike.

Competitive arc and key venues

Mageau’s contest résumé is compact but decisive. After an early stint on the rookie halfpipe track, he redirected to video-based competition and struck gold at X Games Real Ski 2020, following a Fan Favorite win in 2019. Those two seasons were a masterclass in line design under time pressure: spot selection that rewards momentum, grab choices that stabilize the axis, and landings that arrive centered so the next decision is on time. Rather than chase bibs after that peak, he focused his calendar on films and scene events, where execution and pacing matter as much as spin count.

Venue context explains the toolkit. Bend’s Mt. Bachelor taught repetition, edge honesty, and the patience to set takeoff height without rushing. As a junior and young pro he stacked laps and contests in the Northeast, sharpening timing at Carinthia Parks at Mount Snow, a proving ground for compact in-runs and dense rail panels. When the cameras roll in Aspen, Buttermilk’s X Games build compresses that skill set into broadcast clarity on immaculate lips and unforgiving outruns; the same is true of jam days and training at Woodward Park City, where year-round facilities turn ideas into habits. His recent films add Quebec and the Pacific Northwest (Washington State) to the map, showing how the same habits survive different snowpacks and approach angles.

How they ski: what to watch for

Mageau skis with deliberate economy and musician’s timing. On rails, he squares approaches early, centers mass on contact, and locks in decisively rather than theatrically. Surface swaps finish cleanly; presses carry visible shape instead of wobble; exits protect enough speed that the next feature arrives naturally. On jumps, he manages spin speed with deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt depending on axis—arriving early enough to quiet rotation and keep the landing over his feet. Directional variety is built-in—forward and switch, left and right—but never breaks cadence because each choice serves the line more than the stat sheet.

If you want to “read” a Mango clip in real time, track two cues. First, spacing: he leaves room between moves so every trick sets angle and speed for the next one, making full runs feel like sentences instead of word salad. Second, grab discipline: hands find the ski early and stay there long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That’s why his bigger spins look unhurried and why editors can present his shots at normal speed without slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

The film trilogy with Level 1—“Freehand”, “Something in the Water”, and “Wind for Whistles”—documents a process as much as a style. The first piece stayed local to Salt Lake City, turning ordinary terrain into memorable lines; the second stretched to new regions while sharpening trick selection; the third connected East and West with a relaxed but exacting cadence. Across them all, Mageau and director Brady Perron avoid over-produced gloss in favor of shots that hold up on the tenth watch. The influence ripples because it’s teachable: younger riders can copy early grab timing, subtle speed checks that don’t spill into landings, and the preference for obstacle-spanning tricks that use the whole spot.

He also stands out for showing that big progression can happen on small canvases. Many of his most replayed clips come from medium features or unglamorous back-alley setups, a reminder that design and execution—not simply size—dictate how good skiing looks. That perspective feeds back into events, where judges and peers increasingly reward lines that protect momentum and make difficult choices legible at full speed.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Mageau’s skiing. Bend provided years of Mt. Bachelor laps where consistency, not novelty, makes you better. Early road seasons to the Northeast added the Carinthia Parks syllabus at Mount Snow, compressing decision-making into tight approaches and quick outruns. The Wasatch corridor and Woodward Park City layered in year-round reps on rails, jumps, and airbags. When film projects pulled him to Quebec and back to the Pacific Northwest, he brought those habits with him: protect speed, finish movements early, let the line keep its shape. Stitch those environments together and you get skiing that looks the same—calm, centered, and readable—whether the background is a city staircase or a spring park at altitude.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Mageau’s hardware choices mirror his priorities. ON3P’s Mango skis (offered in multiple widths) are built for presses with backbone, rail contact that doesn’t deaden the edge in a week, and a swing weight that encourages early-grab, measured-spin tricks. Outerwear from 686 leans into mobility and durability for long filming days. On the media side, his partnership with Level 1 prioritizes storytelling that lets technique show.

For skiers borrowing from his setup, think category fit over model names. Choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount it so butters and presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability. Keep bases fast so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather; tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to prevent surprise bites on swaps. Above all, treat the grab as a control input—lock it early to stabilize the axis and land centered with speed for what comes next. That combination won a judged video contest and fuels edits that age well.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Jake Mageau matters because he turned elite difficulty into a language anyone can follow and then proved you don’t need oversized features to speak it. A gold at X Games Real Ski gave him headline credibility; the Level 1 films gave him a lasting voice. For viewers, his lines are endlessly rewatchable because the decisions are clear and the execution is calm. For developing skiers, he offers a checklist you can practice on your next lap: square the approach, use the grab to control the axis, finish the trick early, and keep enough speed that the next choice arrives on time. Whether the setting is Buttermilk under stadium lights, a medium park jump in Oregon, or a handrail in Quebec, the blueprint stays the same—and it’s one worth stealing.

Profile and significance

Pär “Peyben” Hägglund is a Swedish freeski original whose fingerprints are all over modern urban and park skiing. A pillar of the Stockholm-based creative collective The Bunch and a co-founder/owner of 1000 Skis, he blends rider, filmmaker, and creative director in one package. His breakout in the film era led naturally to X Games Real Ski, where he earned silver in 2019 as an athlete and later added medals behind the camera as a filmer/editor. The significance is twofold: on snow, he pushed a “horizontal” vocabulary of presses, butters, wheelies, and reverts that turned flat ground and small speed into style; off snow, he helped prove that skiers can shape their own brands, films, and formats without outsourcing the vision.

Hägglund’s edits and parts are deliberately replayable. The camera lingers on how he enters, holds, and exits positions; the skiing is framed as a language you can learn, not a stunt you can only admire. That clarity gave his Real Ski work lasting weight and made his The Bunch projects required viewing for anyone who cares about line choice and visual storytelling in freeskiing.

Competitive arc and key venues

Hägglund’s “results sheet” is unconventional by design. The headline is X Games Real Ski silver in 2019—earned with a pure-street video segment that balanced creative spots with strict technical definition. He returned as a creator in subsequent years, contributing medal-winning parts as a filmer/editor, and he also stepped into Aspen’s on-hill spectacle via the debut-era Knuckle Huck, where he brought the same touch-based tricks that define his film work. More than most peers, he used contests as proof-of-concept for ideas refined in the streets.

The venues tied to his name explain the skiing as well as any podium. Sweden’s dense park culture, especially Kläppen Snowpark and Åre’s SkiStar Snow Park, gave him night-lap repetition and quick resets that sharpen presses, backslides, and switch control. Film blocks with The Bunch took him from Stockholm’s urban textures to North America, where he stacked Real Ski-caliber clips in Quebec and elsewhere. The film pipeline with Level 1 added distribution and a demanding editorial filter—shots lived or died on style, not just difficulty. Together, these places built a skier who reads features instantly and converts modest speed into maximum expression.

How they ski: what to watch for

Hägglund skis like a craftsman. Approaches are tall and neutral; he sets rotation late and locks grabs early so the trick breathes. On rails, the signatures are long, decisive presses and backslides held just long enough to read clearly, then released with square shoulders to preserve speed. He uses minimal arm swing and sets edge pressure early, which keeps the base flat through kinks and eliminates scramble. On side hits and natural features, he favors butters that start from the ankles and hips rather than a forced upper-body lean, making every revert or shifty look inevitable. If you slow his clips down, you’ll see consistent checkpoints—calm entry, patient pop, early definition, quiet landing—that translate directly to everyday park laps.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Hägglund’s influence is amplified by the work he does off the skis. With The Bunch he helped pioneer a rider-run production model that treats films as complete artworks: story, sound, motion, and color serve the skiing, not the other way around. In the mid-to-late 2010s that approach yielded festival hardware, including street-segment recognition around Level 1 projects, and set the tone for a wave of crews who now self-produce. Real Ski validated the formula in a broadcast setting—silver as an athlete in 2019, then more hardware as a filmer/editor—which reinforced that his eye behind the lens is as sharp as his feet on snow.

The company chapter matters too. With 1000 Skis, Hägglund and friends translated their culture-first ethos into equipment design and brand decisions. The goal was never just “sell skis”; it was to give skiers a say in how products, films, and community intersect. That loop—ride, film, iterate, and build—has changed expectations for what a pro skier can be in the 2020s.

Geography that built the toolkit

Sweden is the blueprint. Night laps at Kläppen and compact lines at Åre reward precision and repetition; you either hit your marks or you miss the next feature. Stockholm’s urban zones add the thin-cover discipline you see in his Real Ski parts—measured speed, careful run-ins, and exits planned before the drop. North American trips layered in fresh textures: long, icy handrails, different snowpack sounds underfoot, and the editorial pressure of filming for brands like Level 1. Each place left a fingerprint that’s visible in how he skis and how he frames others through the lens.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Hägglund’s hardware choices reflect his priorities. As an owner at 1000 Skis, he rides press-friendly, predictable platforms that accept a solid detune at the contact points but stay composed on bigger lips. That matters if you plan to hold presses, butter into spins, or exit features to switch without chatter. For riders who want to borrow his feel, keep the setup simple: a true park ski with balanced flex, a mount close enough to center to keep landings neutral, and a binding ramp that doesn’t tip you onto your heels. The bigger “equipment” is process. Film your laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack to the checkpoints visible in his clips, and repeat until the movements become automatic. That is the Peyben method, and it works whether your hill is a city rope-tow or a destination park.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care because Hägglund made style specific. He showed that a press has a duration, a shifty needs room to breathe, and a revert should land on edges you’ve already organized. Progressing skiers care because the same choices are teachable. If your park is small or your winter is short, his blueprint—calm entries, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exits—turns limited speed into memorable skiing. Add the creative engine of The Bunch and the rider-run model of 1000 Skis, and you get an athlete whose impact spans medals, movies, and the equipment under your feet. In an era that rewards both innovation and durability, Pär “Peyben” Hägglund remains a reliable reference for how modern freeskiing should look, feel, and evolve.

Profile and significance

Philip “B-Dog” Casabon is a Canadian freeski icon from Shawinigan, Québec, whose style-first language—presses, butters, nollies, reverts, and shiftys that breathe—reshaped modern park and urban skiing. He rose through night laps at his local hill, Vallée du Parc, and became one of the most influential riders of his generation by proving that creativity, definition, and flow can outweigh brute force. His cultural footprint is matched by hardware: back-to-back gold medals at X Games Real Ski in 2018 and 2019, plus the 2018 Fan Favorite nod, cemented his status as a peer-elected standard. In the same window, he released the widely praised film “En Particulier” with Brady Perron and was named Freeskier’s Skier of the Year, a rare double for a rider focused on film and street. Casabon matters because he made style specific and teachable—clips that hold up frame by frame and a movement language that any progressing skier can study and apply.

Competitive arc and key venues

Casabon’s competitive résumé is unconventional by design. Early in his career he tested himself in slopestyle at Aspen, making multiple Winter X Games appearances when the discipline was still defining itself. As urban skiing’s broadcast moment arrived, he shifted to segments and rider-curated showcases that better matched his voice. The pivot paid off: his 2018 X Games Real Ski gold, delivered alongside the Fan Favorite award, was followed by a repeat gold in 2019—rare back-to-back wins that confirmed his dominance in the all-video, all-street format. In the culture-defining B&E era at Les Arcs, he collected “Best Style” honors in both 2014 and 2015 on a skate-inspired setup designed to reward touch and originality. Those landmarks—Aspen’s spotlight, Real Ski’s medals, and Les Arcs’ style awards—map the arc of a skier who used competition as a proof-of-concept for ideas refined in edits.

The places tied to his name help explain the skiing. Vallée du Parc gave him the repetition and switch comfort that show up in his lines. Aspen’s big-build tempo at Aspen Snowmass taught wind calls, long decks, and pressure management under cameras. The B&E park at Les Arcs encouraged butters into spins, long presses, and transfers that value feel over amplitude. Together they shaped a rider who reads features instantly and turns modest speed into full sentences of skiing.

How they ski: what to watch for

Casabon skis with economy and definition. Approaches stay tall and neutral. He sets rotation late, locks grabs early—often with unmistakable tweaks—and lets the trick breathe rather than rushing the set. On rails, the signatures are square entries, long-held presses and backslides that are obvious to the eye, surface swaps with minimal arm swing, and exits where the shoulders stay aligned so momentum carries into the next feature. Even when the spot is complex, he organizes edge pressure early to keep the base flat through kinks, which is why his landings read inevitable rather than rescued. On jumps and side hits the same patience appears: pop comes from the feet up, grabs are defined before 180 degrees, and the upper body stays quiet so the skis do the storytelling. The result is a blueprint any rider can study—calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exit.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Casabon’s influence runs through films and community projects as much as medals. He built a decade-long catalog of replayable segments, culminating in the late-2010s run that paired Real Ski golds with a festival-tested film presence. The work emphasized honest speed, horizon awareness, and compositions that make slope angle and body organization clear—choices that help viewers learn, not just watch. In the B&E era, his partnership with Henrik Harlaut created a platform where style was the scorecard, then pushed those ideas back into parks, streets, and product design. Interviews and long-form conversations from this period reveal a method that prizes durability over hype: habits you can repeat when conditions are imperfect and cameras are rolling.

That durability—plus a willingness to mentor—keeps his influence alive in a generation that learns from edits. Coaches use his clips to illustrate patient setups and clean exits; riders break down his presses and shifty timing to build their own lines. He is both reference and proof: you do not need the world’s biggest jump to show world-class skiing if your movements are organized and your choices are clear.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. Shawinigan’s Vallée du Parc is a human-scale hill where repetition is abundant and mistakes are obvious. Night laps there forged the switch comfort, precise edging, and patience that define his rail game. The spotlight and wind at Aspen Snowmass layered in big-feature timing and composure. The creative modules at Les Arcs rewarded a horizontal vocabulary—presses, butters, wheelies—that Casabon helped popularize, proving that expression at low to medium speeds can be as compelling as amplitude. When you trace the map, you see the fingerprints in every clip: local-hill repetition, big-park patience, and skate-park creativity applied to snow.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Casabon’s long relationship with Armada extended far beyond sticker placement. His pro model BDog and the experimental BDog Edgeless in Armada’s Zero Collection were designed to serve his priorities—predictable flex for presses and butters, confidence on switch landings, and swing weight that stays honest on slower-speed pops. The gear lessons for progressing skiers mirror that logic. Choose a true park ski with a balanced, medium flex you can bend without folding. Detune the contact points enough to reduce rail bite while maintaining dependable edge hold on the lip. Mount close enough to center that presses sit level and switch landings feel neutral. Keep binding ramp angles that don’t tip you onto your heels. Then build a process that matches the hardware: film laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack against a short checklist, and repeat until the movements become automatic. The setup is the scaffold; the habits are the house.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Philip Casabon because his skiing ages well. The clips prioritize timing, organization, and line design over noise, which is why they survive slow-motion scrutiny years later. Progressing skiers care because the same choices are teachable on normal parks and real snowpacks. If your winter looks like night laps on a small hill, weekend missions to a destination park, and a few street sessions with friends, his blueprint shows how to turn limited speed and imperfect conditions into memorable skiing. The medals—back-to-back X Games Real Ski golds and Fan Favorite in 2018—are milestones; the lasting takeaway is a method: calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exit, and a flow that connects a run into a single sentence. That is why B-Dog remains essential viewing for anyone who cares about freeskiing’s style, substance, and future.