''SUPERVIEW'' A B-dog Bone

Profile and significance

Émile “Bmile” Bergeron is a Québec-born freeski original whose reputation rests on memorable street segments and a benchmark X Games result. Raised in the Lac-Beauport / Québec City corridor, he moved from early park edits into a film-first path, earning a silver medal at X Games Real Ski 2020 with a part that mixed high-consequence architecture, meticulous speed control, and clean, readable landings. Years of clips with Quebec crews and frequent cameos in projects anchored by Phil Casabon and Brady Perron had already put him on the radar; Real Ski confirmed to a global audience what the core scene knew: Bergeron is a case study in readable difficulty. His best work turns complex spots into coherent lines that make sense at full speed, a quality that fans rewatch and riders can learn from.

Brand support reflects that identity. He rides for Armada Skis, wears Picture Organic Clothing, and stays rooted in Québec’s scene via shop partner D-Structure. The combination signals priorities—durable platforms, predictable swing weight, and a community-first approach—that line up with a career built more on edits than on bib numbers.

Competitive arc and key venues

Bergeron’s headline result is Real Ski 2020 silver, a medal earned in an all-video, judge-voted format where trick quality, spot selection, and line design carry as much weight as rotation counts. The segment distilled his approach: measured speed into unforgiving takeoffs, early grabs or presses that stabilize the axis, and exits that protect momentum so the next feature arrives on time. Before and after that moment, his calendar has centered on projects and scene events that sharpen the same habits. He turns up at spring gatherings around Sweden’s Kläppen, stacks street footage at home in Québec City, and keeps timing sharp with park laps at Le Relais and Stoneham when the storm cycle cooperates.

Two Québec venues, in particular, explain his toolkit. Night laps at Le Relais in Lac-Beauport reward honest edge angles and quick decisions on compact in-runs; mistakes get punished quickly, so economy becomes second nature. A short drive away, Stoneham adds higher-speed park panels and a dense rail zone that make cadence and line choice pivotal. Those places, paired with the city’s winter architecture, created the foundation for his street work. When he travels—Kläppen in the spring or larger resort builds in the Alps—the same rhythm holds: protect line speed, finish tricks early, and let the course breathe.

How they ski: what to watch for

Bergeron skis with deliberate economy. Approaches square up early, shoulders stay stacked, and lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic. On rails he favors surface swaps that resolve cleanly, presses with visible shape, and exits that leave enough speed for the next setup. On jumps he commits to the grab early—safety, tail, or blunt depending on axis—and holds it long enough to calm the rotation and keep his hips over his feet. Directional variety is there—forward and switch, left and right—but never at the expense of cadence. The tell in his clips is spacing: each trick creates room for the next one instead of stealing from it, which is why his lines read clearly at 1x speed without slow-motion rescue.

For viewers trying to “see” the difference, track three cues. First, he sets takeoff height with patience; there’s no frantic reach for the lip. Second, grab choice is functional, not decorative—it stabilizes axis and dictates landing shape. Third, you can feel momentum survive landings; he rarely needs panic turns or speed-killing checks to set up the next feature. Those traits scan just as well on a Quebec staircase as they do on a spring booter in Scandinavia.

Resilience, filming, and influence

The through-line of Bergeron’s career is composure. Long before Real Ski, he shadowed and collaborated with Québec’s leading stylists, absorbing a film grammar that prizes honest speed and clean exits. His own projects—shorts like “The Big Batch,” street pieces shot around Québec City, and contributions to friends’ edits—stick to that grammar. The result is footage that ages well: it’s legible at full speed, it shows decision-making rather than chaos, and it rewards rewatching because the trick math is transparent. Editors trust his shots because they don’t rely on quick cuts to hide sketchy landings; younger skiers emulate the way he finishes tricks early enough to ride away centered.

Influence also shows up locally. Backed by D-Structure and filming on familiar terrain, Bergeron helps keep Québec City positioned as a capital of urban skiing. The community sees how a Real Ski medalist builds a spot, maps approach angles, and chooses tricks that use an obstacle end to end. That approach has a ripple effect: crews raise build quality, riders invest in speed management, and the region continues to produce segments that travel well beyond provincial borders.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Bergeron’s skiing. The winter rhythm of Québec City—cold nights, reliable snowmaking, and dense urban features—teaches honesty. At Le Relais, night skiing and compact radii punish late commitments and sloppy edge angles, so repetition breeds tidy mechanics. Stoneham layers in faster snow and longer in-runs where early grab timing and centered landings become non-negotiable. The city itself supplies the stair sets, closeouts, and wall rides that form a street skier’s vocabulary. When spring moves the scene to Kläppen, the features are bigger but the demands are the same: protect speed, space tricks thoughtfully, and keep body position quiet so the line holds its shape from first hit to last.

This loop—local parks, city missions, Scandinavian spring blocks—explains why his skiing travels. Swap conditions and backdrops as you like; the habits remain portable because they’re built on timing and momentum management rather than on single-use spectacle.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Bergeron’s kit is designed for repeatability. Armada provides park-capable platforms with balanced swing weight for early-grab, measured-spin skiing and the edge durability street segments demand. Picture Organic Clothing covers long, variable filming days with weatherproof, mobility-friendly outerwear. D-Structure, as a home-province partner, keeps his setup grounded in the community that shaped him. For skiers translating this into their own choices, the lesson is category fit over model names: pick a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount it so presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability; tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps; and maintain fast bases so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather. None of this replaces timing, but the right platform makes timing repeatable.

There’s a process lesson, too. Bergeron’s medal-winning part didn’t come from throwing the biggest possible trick first—it came from mapping approaches, building well, and letting trick selection serve the spot. That mindset works for anyone: choose lines you can finish cleanly, commit to early control inputs (grabs and body position), and leave with momentum intact. It’s how good skiing reads clearly, whether the camera is ten meters from a Quebec handrail or panning through a spring park in Sweden.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Émile Bergeron matters because he turns difficulty into clarity. His Real Ski silver validated a style the scene already valued—calm mechanics, spot-specific trick choice, and landings that feed the next move. For fans, that makes his segments endlessly rewatchable; for developing skiers, it turns “style” from a vibe into a checklist you can practice: square the approach early, use the grab to stabilize the axis, and protect momentum through the outrun. If you’re tracking freeski for street parts that hold up on first watch and on frame-by-frame breakdowns, keep Bergeron near the top of your list. The toolkit is proven, and the influence continues to ripple from Lac-Beauport to every park where riders learn to make hard things look simple.

Profile and significance

Liam Downey is an American freeski original from New England whose name is woven through the mid-2000s park and street era. He rose with the film movement rather than the FIS ladder, stacking memorable parts with the Denver-based production house Level 1—including a prominent role in “Long Story Short” (2006) and features in “Realtime” (2007) and “Turbo” (2008). Those edits made him a touchstone for how urban/street skiing and resort park laps could read clearly at full speed: squared-up approaches, deep functional grabs, decisive rail lock-ins, and centered landings that keep momentum alive. Beyond filming, Downey carried that sensibility into coaching blocks and storytelling, helping younger riders translate style into repeatable technique at places like Mt. Hood and Summit County.

What sets Downey apart is durability of influence. He didn’t chase Olympic slopestyle or big air podiums; he showed a generation how to make hard things look simple on camera and in person. Later collaborations—like a 2022 piece with Armada filmed by Brady Perron—reminded longtime fans why his skiing still holds up: the mechanics are on time, and the decisions serve the line, not the stat sheet.

Competitive arc and key venues

Downey’s “arc” lives in projects and rider-run gatherings more than bib counts, but the venues that shaped him are the sport’s classrooms. Early repetitions around Vermont and the Stratton corridor put him on the East’s radar, with appearances at marquee rail jams and spring shoots. The film years tied him to springs and summers at Timberline Lodge (Mt. Hood), where long lanes and consistent lips let him refine patient takeoffs and full-length grabs, and to Woodward Copper, where dense rail panels compress decision-making into short in-runs and quick outruns. Travel blocks to Park City Mountain and Pennsylvania’s Seven Springs added different geometries and speeds; shoots and camps at Copper Mountain and East Coast nights at Killington brought contest-style pressure without the rulebook.

Those places explain the toolkit you see on film. Firm mornings and slushy afternoons demand honest edge angles; short urban runways force early commitments. When his segments landed with viewers, it wasn’t because they hid the work—it’s because the trick math stayed legible no matter the build.

How they ski: what to watch for

Downey skis with deliberate economy. On rails he squares the approach early, centers mass on contact, and locks in decisively rather than theatrically. Surface swaps resolve completely; presses carry visible shape instead of wobble; exits protect enough speed that the next setup arrives naturally. On jumps he manages spin rate with deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt depending on axis—and he gets to the handle early enough to calm rotation and finish the landing over his feet. Directional variety appears both forward and switch, left and right, but never breaks cadence because each choice serves the line.

If you want to “read” a Downey 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 a full run feel like a sentence instead of disconnected words. Second, grab discipline: the hand finds the ski early and stays long enough to stabilize the axis, not just decorate the frame. That habit is why heavier spins look unhurried and why editors can present his shots at normal speed without slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street skiing rewards process—shovel and salt, rebuilds after busts, and the judgment to walk away when the approach won’t hold. Downey leaned into that rhythm throughout the Level 1 era and beyond, contributing not just footage but also a voice that helped riders and viewers understand why certain choices age well. As a writer and mentor, he has translated trick math into plain language, arguing for style as technique: early commitments, functional grabs, tidy landings, momentum protected. Coaching stints at places like Windells on Mt. Hood and sessions tied into Summit County’s Woodward Copper ecosystem kept him connected to the next crop while reinforcing the same template he filmed a decade earlier.

The influence shows up wherever park kids try to turn “vibe” into decisions. Downey’s lines are case studies: obstacle-spanning tricks that use the whole feature, speed checks that don’t spill into landings, and finishes that leave time for the next choice. That blueprint is as useful to an aspiring slopestyle rider as it is to someone planning an urban/street skiing hit list for winter break.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Downey’s skiing. Vermont’s freeze-thaw and night-skiing routine near Stratton Mountain and the wider New England corridor instilled edge honesty and approach discipline. Summers at Timberline stretched the runway—reps on consistent lips turn early grab timing into habit. Colorado’s Summit County, particularly Copper Mountain with the Woodward build, compressed everything back down into short, high-frequency approaches that punish late decisions. Thread those environments together and you get skiing that stays itself on clean spring salt, storm refreeze, or a city staircase under LEDs.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Downey’s hardware choices mirror his priorities. Film-era work with Level 1 prioritized predictable swing weight and edge life on steel; his later collaboration with Armada underlined a preference for skis that reward early-grab control and centered landings. For skiers applying the lessons, think category fit over model names. Choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount it so presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability. Keep bases fast so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather; tune edges to hold on rails yet soften contact points enough to avoid surprise bites on swaps. Above all, treat the grab as a control input—lock it early to stabilize the axis and ride out centered with speed for what comes next.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Liam Downey matters because he helped codify a language for modern freeski—especially urban/street skiing and resort slopestyle—that is still teachable today. The films prove the point, the coaching and writing spread it, and the skiing itself remains rewatchable because the decisions are clear. For viewers, his segments hit that sweet spot where difficulty looks inevitable. For riders in progression, his blueprint is actionable on the next lap: square the approach, use the grab to steer the axis, finish the move early, and leave every feature with momentum. From night laps in Vermont to summer lanes at Timberline and park lines at Copper Mountain, the message holds.

Profile and significance

Mike Hornbeck is an American freeski icon from Michigan whose street-first approach, butters and presses helped define the look of modern park and urban skiing. Rising through the mid-2000s film era, he became one of the most recognizable riders in Level 1’s catalog with standout appearances in titles like Realtime, After Dark, and other projects that centered style and originality over podiums. A long-time member of the Armada team, he later carried his aesthetic into rider-led web parts and brand pieces that many skiers still study frame by frame. Hornbeck’s significance rests on cultural impact: the way he made presses, shiftys, nollies and reverts read as a complete language—and how that language spread from Midwest rope-tow parks to edits worldwide.

His visibility extended beyond films into headline events tailored for urban skiers. In 2018 he competed in X Games Real Ski, the all-video, all-street contest that showcases the sport’s purest rail craft and spot selection. While he didn’t leave with a medal, the invite alone underscored what most peers already believed: Hornbeck is a taste-maker whose clips influence how others build their tricks, choose their lines, and evaluate style. The result is a profile measured less by trophies and more by the lasting replay value of his skiing.

Competitive arc and key venues

Hornbeck’s “competitive arc” is atypical by design. Rather than chasing slopestyle starts week to week, he prioritized filming seasons and special-format showcases. The invite to X Games Real Ski in 2018 placed him on the sport’s biggest stage for urban riding, reinforcing his long-running role as a reference for rails and surface tricks. Back home, his laboratory has been Michigan night-skiing culture—small hills and frequent laps that sharpen timing and edge control. Places like Cannonsburg near Grand Rapids and Bittersweet in Otsego are closely associated with his name through edits and community sessions. Those venues explain his approach as well as any result sheet: compact parks that reward creativity, repetition, and economy.

On the brand and film side, Level 1’s projects gave him global reach, while collaborative pieces with Armada kept his voice at the front of style conversations during the social-media era. That balance—local parks for skill-building, film crews for distribution, and selective competitions for validation—maps the path many modern street skiers now follow.

How they ski: what to watch for

Hornbeck is a master of clean, low-effort movement that still reads unmistakably technical. On rails, the tell is how long he holds positions without wobble: locked backslides, decisive presses, and surface swaps that happen with minimal arm swing. He enters features from a neutral, tall stance, setting edge pressure early so the base stays flat through kinks and waterfall rails. Exits look inevitable rather than reactive, with shoulders square and speed preserved for the next hit.

On jumps and side hits he favors patience into the lip, late pop, and grabs established before 180 degrees. Shifty variations and nose or tail butters aren’t decorative flourishes—they’re the framework that makes his rotations look suspended in slow motion. The overall impression is skiing you can learn from: quiet upper body, soft ankles on impact, and tricks that begin with balance rather than force.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Across a long career Hornbeck navigated injuries and the shifting economics of film skiing, yet kept producing parts that set the bar for style. His “This Is Armada” features and later collaborations with filmmaker friends showed how to build memorable segments on accessible terrain, a lesson embraced by crews worldwide. He also leaned into creative side projects with Armada, including short-form pieces and art-driven edits that extended his voice beyond traditional ski movies. The cumulative effect is influence that outlives any given season: riders imitate his presses and line choices; parks rebuild features to recreate his clips; and coaches still use his movement patterns as teaching references.

Geography that built the toolkit

Hornbeck’s toolkit is pure Midwest. Frequent laps under lights in Michigan—especially at Cannonsburg and Bittersweet—create the conditions where subtle edge control matters more than gravity. Short run-ins, modest speed, and tight decks demand precise setups and centered landings, traits that define his rail skiing. When film seasons took him beyond the Midwest, he exported that control to bigger features without altering the blueprint. The result is a style born on small hills that scales cleanly to city handrails and travel segments.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

As a long-time Armada pro, Hornbeck’s setups have emphasized playful flex patterns that accept heavy detune at the contact points yet stay supportive for butters and presses. His eyewear and protection have included SHRED. and Slytech pieces, reflecting a focus on vision and impact management during urban sessions. For progressing skiers, the lessons are straightforward: pick a park ski with a balanced, medium-soft flex you can bend without folding; mount near center to stay neutral on switch landings; detune enough to reduce rail bite; and keep bindings at a ramp angle that doesn’t force you into the backseat. Off-snow, build Hornbeck-like habits—video review to check shoulder alignment, balance drills for press control, and structured repetitions so surface swaps feel deliberate rather than lucky.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Mike Hornbeck because he made freeski style specific and teachable. His parts distilled ideas—how long to hold a press, when to set edge, how to let a shifty breathe—that riders could copy the next day at their local hill. For developing skiers, he remains a blueprint for getting more out of small parks and for turning subtle technique into standout clips. Whether the backdrop is a Michigan rope tow, a city handrail, or an X Games Real Ski part, Hornbeck’s skiing reads the same: patient, precise, and quietly elite.

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.