Nobody knows me for this and there’s hardly any footage of it, but when I was younger, I used to hurt myself a lot,” Scott Stevens says. “I would chuck. I broke my back in front of Ross Powers in the Stratton [VT] terrain park when he was at his height. Honestly, I wanted to be a pro so bad that I didn’t care how badly I hurt myself. I had more brawn than brain at the time. But when my snowboarding changed to be a little bit more fun, that was good for my body and my mind because—wait. Hold on, Violet! There’s poop right there. OK, take your shirt off…” 

It’s a midafternoon in early November. Scott is on the phone with me from his home in Portland, OR. From this end of the line, it’s unclear if the excrement is human or canine. Violet, Scott’s two-year-old daughter, has been playing around with Maddy, one of the family’s two Australian shepherds. Scott’s wife, Naomi, is currently busy with Violet’s five-month-old sister, Elsie. The excitement never ends for the Stevens. It’s controlled chaos in a fun kind of way, though at times it’s more challenging than it looks—very much like the snowboarding Scott has become known for. Beloved, even. 

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