Standing at the top of the winding track in Cortina d’Ampezzo, Matt Weston paused briefly before his final descent, knowing Olympic history lay just seconds away.
The Briton had already laid the groundwork a day earlier, correcting early mistakes and setting a blistering pace. By Friday morning, gold was no longer a dream — it was his to lose. What followed was not caution, but authority.
Weston stormed down the ice once again, posting a fourth consecutive track record to seal Britain’s first medal of the Winter Games for Team GB and the first Olympic men’s skeleton gold in the nation’s history.
“It means everything,” Weston told BBC Sport, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve worked so hard for this. I’ve missed birthdays, funerals, everything. This moment makes it all worth it.” His numbers told the story of total dominance.
Despite holding a healthy 0.39-second lead heading into the final run, Weston refused to ease up. Instead, he delivered a stunning 55.61-second descent — a victory lap that doubled as a statement — finishing with a combined time of 3:43.33. It left the rest of the field scrambling.
Germany’s Axel Jungk took silver, 0.88 seconds adrift, while defending Olympic champion Christopher Grotheer secured bronze, more than a second behind the Briton. In a sport often decided by hundredths, the margins were staggering.
The pressure had been relentless. Weston, 28, arrived in Italy as the overwhelming favourite after dominating the four-year cycle with two world titles and three overall World Cup Crystal Globes. But expectation can weigh heavier than any sled.
No British man had ever claimed Olympic skeleton gold, and Team GB’s medal hopes across the Games were faltering. Weston knew his run could define the team’s fortunes. He blocked out the noise.
Off-track distractions included controversy and disqualifications in the build-up, as well as memories of Beijing 2022, when Britain failed to win a single skeleton medal for the first time in two decades. Instead, Weston focused inward — on routine, preparation and calm.
Friends say his approach matured significantly over the past two years. Conversations with family, deliberate rest days and even carb-loading with plates of pasta became small rituals that steadied his mindset. Four years ago, the story was very different.
After narrowly missing the Olympic podium, Weston considered quitting the sport altogether. The disappointment lingered for months, forcing him to reassess not just technique but mentality. Earlier this season, he admitted learning to “love the pressure and expectation” had transformed his outlook.
That lesson was evident on every run in Cortina. His starts were explosive, his steering precise and his lines clean through the notoriously technical bends. Where rivals drifted or corrected, Weston flowed.
Each descent looked faster, smoother, inevitable. By the time he crossed the line on his final run, the result was beyond doubt. Arms raised, helmet off, he allowed himself a rare release of emotion.
Teammates rushed forward, coaches embraced, and the British contingent erupted in celebration. For a nation long competitive in skeleton but still chasing men’s gold, the breakthrough felt overdue. For Weston, it was personal.
Behind the medal lies years of sacrifice — missed family milestones, relentless training blocks and the solitary grind of a sport measured in milliseconds.
“I hope I made you proud,” he said, addressing those watching back home. On this frozen Italian hillside, he did far more than that. He didn’t just win gold — he redefined British skeleton history.
