South Korea

Lindsey Vonn took a moment for herself to scatter her grandfather's ashes in Pyeongchang, South Korea, during the 2018 Winter Olympics on Thursday.

Vonn told the Associated Press (h/t ESPN.com) she was able to scatter the ashes of her grandfather on a rock in the area where the downhill race took place. 

"I know that it would mean a lot to him to be back here, a part of him is in South Korea always," she said. 

Vonn won a bronze medal in the women's downhill on Tuesday, her first Olympic medal since 2010. 

Vonn's grandfather, Don Kildow, died at the age of 88 last November. He was an engineer in the Army Corps during the Korean War before being honorably discharged in 1953, per his obituary in the Milton Courier. 

At a Feb. 9 press conference, Vonn told reporters she was hoping to have a successful run at the Olympics in honor of her grandfather. 

"I want so badly to do well for him, and I miss him so much," she said. "He’s been such a big part of my life, and I really hoped he would be alive to see me, and I know he's watching and I know he's going to help me. I’m going to win for him."

Prior to her run on Tuesday, Vonn wrote on Twitter it will "most likely" be her final Olympic downhill race. The 33-year-old has won three Olympic medals in her career, becoming the first American woman to win gold in the downhill at the 2010 Games.

PYEONGCHANG, South Korea — Two Novembers ago, Lindsey Vonn struggled to wiggle her fingers. A fractured right humerus in her arm zapped her of all feeling. When Vonn's fitness coach, Alex Bunt, came to see her, he couldn't believe what he saw.

Vonn, a world-champion athlete and one of the most decorated winter Olympians ever, was unable to pick up coins or a pencil.

She suffered the injury while training at Copper Mountain, just another setback to add to the ever-growing pile. Three years earlier, she tore her right ACL. A re-injury to that knee a few weeks later kept her out of the 2014 Olympic games in Sochi, Russia. She missed much of the 2013 season with an intestinal infection.

She spent three years in total rehabbing: most of 2013, most of 2014, part of 2015 and part of 2016.

Vonn, so aware of of another setback, is wearing a facemask around the facilities, hoping she won't catch the highly contagious norovirus that has made the rounds in Pyeongchang.

"I'm in the high-traffic zones like the media center. I don't know which of you are sick and I'm just being safe," she said. "I wore them on the plane over here as well. I did that at Vancouver. I wore a mask, but I figured that for a press conference, a mask wasn't appropriate."

Through all of the injuries, all of the setbacks, all of the aches and pains, Vonn never doubted she would be back. A few weeks before she was set to make her Olympic return, Vonn won two World Cup downhill races in Germany. That's the latest indication she's roaring and ready to compete for a medal in Pyeongchang, where she's in contention for her three events: downhill, super-G and combined.

At 33 years old, this is likely Vonn's last Olympic Games. Given that she hasn't competed on the biggest of international stages for eight years, nothing was going to stop her from getting back.

"I really want to put an exclamation point on my career," Vonn said. "It took me until my third Olympics to figure out how to deal with the pressure. Most of the time, especially in my second Olympics in Torino, I put more pressure on myself than anyone put on me."

Both Bunt and Vonn's head coach, Chris Knight, never doubted for a second that she would make it to Pyeongchang, health-dependent. They've seen the type of attitude she brings to the mountains, everything that she's been through to get to this point. But Vonn faces an even bigger task, greater than herself, at these Olympic games.

She's skiing for her grandfather, Don Kildow, who's one of the major reasons she turned into an Olympic legend.

"Her toughness," Hunt said, "comes from her family, and her grandfather."

Vonn was the oldest grandchild of Kildow, a Korean War veteran who died on Nov. 1. He was the one who founded the local ski club and introduced the sport to his family. When Kildow was 16, his father passed away.

At the time, the family was in the midst of building a house themselves, so they lived in a garage. As the family mourned Kildow's father, he finished constructing the house on his own, taking care of his mother and his siblings, all the while going to school and playing sports in Milton, Wisconsin. Kildow spent his entire life working in construction, instilling his work ethic in Lindsey and the rest of his family.

Vonn thought 2018 would be the year her grandfather would return to the country he once defended in war. He would watch his granddaughter finish her career and leave behind a legacy as one of the greatest skiers ever, male or female. Vonn tears up every time he's mentioned.

"I just want so badly to do well for him. I miss him so much," she said. "He's been such a big part of my life. I really hoped that he would be alive to see me, but I know he's watching, and I know that he's going to help me and I'm going to win for him."

She wouldn't be in a position to win for him without the toughness she learned under his watch. Vonn's coaches seem perplexed at times about how she's managed to get through all of it—the personal loss, the injuries, the paparazzi-level fame.

"I originally came from New Zealand, and I've watched a lot of rugby in my life, and I'm also an ice hockey fan. You see hits and tackles and the rest of it, and then you see Lindsey take a crash, and she gets up and comes back the next day," Knight said. "Then just being able to start off again, at exactly the same place that she left off before she got hurt, that's just incredible toughness to be able to do that."

As Vonn embarks on her final quest for gold, her future remains in question. She wants to ski one more season to pursue Ingemar Stenmark's record 86 World Cup victories. The accolades or fame aren't what she's focused on as she gears up for what's likely to be her last run at the Olympics, though.

"It's not really about me or my career," Vonn said. "It's about my grandfather."

Without all of that time with Kildow, Vonn doesn't know whether she'd have been here in the first place.

The two favorites in the women's hockey tournament at the Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea, opened their play on Sunday morning, with the United States facing Finland and Canada taking on the Olympic Athletes of Russia.

Below, we'll break down those results.

               

The United States beats Finland, 3-1

It took the United States' women a while to solve Finnish goalkeeper goalkeeper Noora Raty. But they eventually cracked the code, earning their first win in Pyeongchang in the process.

Finland's Venla Hovi opened the scoring with just 5.8 seconds remaining in the first period, but the United States took over from there, as Monique Lamoureux-Morando and Kendall Coyne each notched second-period tallies in a 3-1 victory. Dani Cameranesi's empty-net goal late in the third period iced the win for the United States.

Goalkeeper Maddie Rooney, meanwhile, saved 23 of the 24 shots she faced.

"It was tremendously important," Coyne said of Sunday's win, per Scott Charles of NBCOlympics.com. "We want to win the game, and I don't think we got down when we went down one-nothing. We stuck to our game plan."

"In order to be the best, you need to beat the best," she added. "It was a great first start, and our focus now turns to the Olympics Athletes from Russia."

The second period was the key, as the Americans outshot Finland in the period, 23-5, upping their pace of play while consistently pressuring the offensive zone.

The Americans peppered the Finnish goal on Sunday morning, forcing Ray to make 40 saves. Were it not for the Finnish star's strong performance, the United States likely would have won by a larger margin, as they largely controlled the game.

"If she can see it, it's probably not going in," Lamoureux-Morando noted of Raty. "We're going to face some tough goalies in this tournament so to bury two in the second was good for us, but moving forward, I'd like [us] to score a few more goals."

The Americans certainly weren't caught off guard by the stiff competition they faced in Finland.

"I expected this," U.S. coach Robb Stauber said, according to Wayne Drehs of ESPN.com. "It's not shocking that they can score goals and that they are going to play hard. We were ready to play 100 percent tonight. I would suspect if we weren't, we would have been in trouble. We expect this tournament to be hard-fought. And tonight it was."

Things won't get easier for the United States, which will next face the Olympic Athletes of Russia on Tuesday. Ditto for Finland, which will take on the gold-medal favorite Canadiens that same day.

               

Canada Beats the Olympic Athletes of Russia, 5-0

The Canadian women left little doubt as to why they are the favorites in Pyeongchang, easily dispatching of the Olympic Athletes of Russia on Sunday, 5-0.

Like the United States before them, Canada owned the second period, as Rebecca Johnston, Haley Irwin and Melanie Daoust all found the back of the net. Johnston wasn't done there, sniping a top-shelf goal in the third period from a tough angle to make it 4-0.

Rebecca Johnston roofs her second of the game 🏒⬆️🥅

Canada up 4-0 @RBC pic.twitter.com/FeVQlGTY9V

— CBC Olympics (@CBCOlympics) February 11, 2018

Wow! Pardon me Rebecca Johnston! What. A. Goal! Her 2nd of the game just a beauty. @RJohnst6 a Sudbury native, nbd.

— Tessa Bonhomme (@Tessab25) February 11, 2018

Daoust added the team's fifth goal on the power play later in the third. 

OAR goalkeeper Nadezhda Morozova put up a good fight in the first period, stopping 15 shots to preserve a scoreless draw. But Canada's relentless attack and time on the power play was simply too much for Morozova and her Russian teammates to handle. 

By the time the final whistle blew, Canada had registered a whopping 48 shots to just 18 for the Russians.

In total, the Canadiens went on the power play seven times, scoring twice, while OAR was held goalless on its two attempts with an extra skater.

PYEONGCHANG, South Korea — They mostly sat, expressionless. When the crowd cheered, they remained quiet, looking forward. When the crowd sang, they sat in silence. When the crowd danced, they sat still. Only when the crowd was silent would they cheer.

That's what they were there to do. Cheer. A contingent of cheerleaders from North Korea, attending the 2018 Winter Olympics, made its presence felt before the festivities even began when the North Korean taekwondo fighters joined a group from the South as one team, under the united Korea flag, hoping to entertain the early spectators. All of it seemed difficult to process for many South Korean spectators.

"This is a really odd sight," one South Korean man muttered under his breath.

The South's team went first, which got the cold crowd going in the early evening. As the first demonstration continued on stage, the 230-member cheering squad sent to the Games from North Korea positioned itself directly in front of the seating boxes housing the world's diplomats, including Kim Yo Jong, the younger sister of Kim Jong Un and the first immediate member of the North's ruling family to set foot in the South. The North Korean team followed the South, though it was marked by a drastic stylistic difference highlighting force and power, compared to the grace and polish of their southern neighbors.

"Our athletes are doing great!" the 230 fans began to cheer, waving their North Korean flags. "Our athletes are doing great!"

Many South Koreans are skeptical of the North's motives in the Olympic unification efforts, thinking Kim Jong Un is using the opportunity to buy more time to pursue his weapons programs. South Korean President Moon Jae-in has countered this narrative, however, saying this is an opportunity to speak with one another and head down a road of reconciliation.

"Many considered it an impossible dream to have an Olympics of peace, in which North Korea would participate and the two Koreas would form a joint team," President Moon said in an address to the International Olympic Committee earlier this week. Hope is easy to find in the president's words, but when sitting among the North Koreans, it's clear unity may be more of an ideal than reality.

The North Korean cheering squad sat in two clusters Friday, in seven rows across two bleachers. The first six rows were filled entirely with women from Pyongyang, most appearing to be in their mid-20s. Their hair curled out of their beanies, their faces pale with blush applied to their cheeks. They all wore uniforms: a white and red beanie, a red jacket with blue and white accents, and pants that matched. Their shoes were white with either baby blue or pink accents, three stripes running down the side.

Sitting behind them was a row of seven older men, North Korean support staff meant to watch over the group, ensuring none of their people stepped out of line. As photographers stopped by their section to take their photo, they never acknowledged their presence.

The North Koreans remained silent as the ceremony kicked off. As the lights flashed, the music blasted and the fireworks ignited, their expressions never changed. They didn't talk to each other. They didn't laugh. They didn't smile. When a group went to the bathroom, they walked in unison down the stairs, shaking the metal bleachers, rumbling as one. At one point, "Gangnam Style" played across the PA system, and as the crowd around them danced, they stared forward.

"Are you enjoying the music?" I asked them.

Most of them pretended not to hear me. One looked at me, nodding her head in affirmation.

"Yes," she said before turning her eyes back toward the proceedings.

"It's like talking to a brick wall," a Korean reporter said to me with a laugh.

Their hands sat in their laps. Slowly, as the athletes were introduced, they began to take flags out of their bags. One of them was North Korea; the other was the unified Korean flag, white with a blue silhouette of the peninsula. They remained silent.

"It doesn't seem like they're having any fun," said one Korean spectator, sitting two rows in front of the North Koreans. In the distance, you could hear protestors outside, marching against the countries' walking under one flag.

The Korean athletes walked out last, and the North Koreans immediately stood up, waving their flags. In an instant, they began cheering, as if someone hit the on switch. They screamed and roared, not dissimilar to a group of teenage girls following One Direction. They broke into song, swaying back and forth in unison.

"We are one!" they sang loudly. "We are one!"

https://twitter.com/iamjoonlee/status/961939234494980097

"Aren't you happy you came here?" one cameraman asked them.

They pretended not to hear him. One dropped her flag as they finished singing.

Throughout the course of the evening, the North Koreans switched between two modes: exuberance or silence, with no middle ground. When the crowd began to sing "Imagine," they initially turned on their candle lights, waving them back and forth. By the time the chorus hit, they stopped, even though the rest of the crowd was swaying back and forth.

"You may say that I'm a dreamer," the song continued. "But I'm not the only one."

Most of the women stared forward. One, the same who answered my question earlier, began to well up. She wiped away the tear with her glove.

Two-and-a-half hours later, the opening ceremony was over, the Olympic torch lit, the fireworks ignited, the cheers cheered. As the crowd began to file out, one woman among the North Koreans stood up. She looked across to the other bleachers, where the other half of the cheerleaders sat. With a wave of their arms, the 230 women broke into song.

"It was great to see you!" they sang, swaying back and forth, clapping in unison. "We'll see you again!" They waved toward the stage and then toward the crowd that had gathered to watch them sing.

"You all look so pretty!" one South Korean woman yelled.

https://twitter.com/iamjoonlee/status/961960167246987270

Three songs later, the women began to file out of their seats, stepping in unison down to the concourse. A crowd formed around them as they walked two-by-two, arms locked, out of the stadium. They waved goodbye to the spectators surrounding them.

"We'll see you all again! We'll see you again!" they said before disappearing through a tunnel and into the night.

Remember how much you saw of Michael Phelps during the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro? Prepare to be similarly inundated with a nonstop blizzard of news about Mikaela Shiffrin, who may be just as dominant at the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea.

That's how imposing the 22-year-old alpine skier from Colorado looms as she takes aim at a historic gold-medal haul.

For the next two weeks, Shiffrin will be compared to America's most prolific winners from the Winter Games, including speedskater Eric Heiden, whose five individual gold medals in 1980 has long been considered impossible to duplicate on the unpredictable surfaces of snow and ice.

But Shiffrin has a shot. That's because no one else in the world is so versatile at mastering all of skiing's challenges.

She is unmatched at zig-zagging through courses in the slalom, the event that first catapulted her to Olympic fame at Sochi in 2014, when she set a record by winning gold at the age of 18. She's nearly as good in the giant slalom and alpine combined, and she also has staked out turf in the downhill and super-G this season.

After weather conditions delayed what was to be Shiffrin's first shot at gold in the giant slalom from Monday to Thursday, her first event will be the slalom on Wednesday, per Sports Illustrated's Tim Layden. 

In an exacting sport where margins of victory often measure only hundredths of a second, no one expects Shiffrin to pull off a clean sweep in Pyeongchang. But she could consummate a three-gold triumph that would forever escalate her into the highest echelon of alpine's daredevils. That Olympic hat trick in a single Games has been accomplished by only two men—Austria's Toni Sailer in 1956 and France's Jean-Claude Killy in 1968—and just one woman, Croatia's Janica Kostelic in 2002.

It would be an Everest-scaling achievement, but Shiffrin believes it's possible.

"I think so. I mean, ask Michael Phelps," she said at the outset of the season. "I know it's not the same thing. There are more events in swimming, but do you think it's possible to win 23 Olympic medals in a career? I guess so."

Among Shiffrin's many believers is her idol, Bode Miller, another rare all-eventer whose six Olympic medals for the U.S. included one gold.

"I think she's maybe the best ski racer I've ever seen, male or female," Miller said this season, per Reuters. "She's so balanced, dynamic, intense and focused. So for me, I think she's got a chance in any event she skis in."

As for an Olympic prediction, the NBC commentator added, "I would say an outside shot at five medals, and I think probably, at her best, maybe three or four of them are golds."

From the start of this season in November through early January, Shiffrin looked unstoppable. She took a massive lead in the overall World Cup standings, racking up an incredible 10 victories in four disciplines, including the first five-race winning streak by a woman in 20 years.

Then came a tailspin.

In her final five World Cup races before the Olympics, Shiffrin's best showings were two seventh-place finishes. Worse, two resulted in a DNF—did not finish. And she essentially had a third DNF when she missed a gate late in a race, then walked back up the hill and cleared it, for 27th place.

After a giant slalom fall in Italy left her with back-to-back wipeouts for the first time in six years, a tearful Shiffrin admitted, "I'm not invincible," and acknowledged she had fueled her doubters.

"I can see it in my mind, 'Mikaela Shiffrin faltering before the Olympics.' And, 'The streak is coming to an end,'" Shiffrin told reporters in January. "But I'm not really worried about what other people think. That's a different place that I'm in this year compared to last year."

The reference to the 2016-17 season addresses the last time Shiffrin unraveled. Bad European weather derailed her obsession with nonstop training. Fears about lack of preparation frayed Shiffrin's nerves, and she was sick to her stomach before some races.

"I definitely have moments of doubt, and my best coping strategy is to rely on the training I've had prior to those races, because I have moments of doubt almost every single race," Shiffrin told Bleacher Report in a phone interview this season. "If I've had bad conditions for training, then those doubts start to become, 'Oh, this is a legit fear that I have about this race.' That makes it much more difficult to overcome, because I don't feel totally prepared to deal with it if something goes wrong."

But staring down adversity is also what made her enthralled with attacking steep slopes all over the world.

"I think any ski racer will tell you that's a huge part of where the passion comes from, the uncertainty every time you get in the starting gate," she said. "Anything can happen, but also feeling like you have control over that. I think a lot of people have an urge to want to control things that seem uncontrollable, and that to me is what ski racing is. There's a lot of theatrics and chaos, and I do love that."

Conquering those moments of chaos—like when she overcame a wobble in the middle of her slalom at Sochi—is what Shiffrin lives for.

"Turning something that looks like a disastrous fall into a turn, those are moments in our sport that I find inspiring," Shiffrin said. "It's just natural athleticism at that point. It's how much time you spent in the gym, how strong you are, how fast you can think on your feet. Because when you're going 75 miles an hour and you hit a bump, one person might fall, but you're able to stay on the course. It's a huge testament to how much the athlete has worked outside of the race, when no one's looking."

Three-time Olympian Steve Nyman instantly appreciated Shiffrin's resolve the first time he saw her, when she was about 13 and training on a course in Vail, Colorado, where he often dominated.

"I'm going up the lift, and I see this little girl ripping down the course," Nyman remembered. He took his run and then hustled over to the timekeeper and asked, "Uh, did that little girl beat me?"

The answer was, "No, but it was really close."

The two struck up a friendship as U.S. ski team members, and Nyman continued to marvel at Shiffrin's progress as she went on the World Cup circuit at the age of 15 and began winning titles at 17.

"Her understanding, her focus, her ability to take notes and want to improve is better than anybody I've witnessed, ever," Nyman said. "She'll get done with training and be writing down her focuses, and she won't even acknowledge you. She wants this so bad, and she'll do anything to get it."

Playfully, Nyman has sometimes tried to break that focus, without success.

"I'll tease her while we're training, just dumb stuff, trying to get in her head. And then I'll apologize later, and she'll just look at me and say she honestly didn't hear it. I'm like, 'Come on, really? I was such a dork up there.' She just has the ability to zone everything out, and you can see it."

Shiffrin demonstrated that focus while she and her upset stomach regrouped in 2016-17 and ended the season with 11 World Cup victories in four disciplines and her first overall World Cup title. She gives a big share of the credit for that rebound to the person who has been coaching her the longest: her mother, Eileen.

"She knows me the best, and she's the one who will pull me aside and tell me to go back to when the training was good a few weeks ago," Shiffrin said. "We'll pull up a video of some of my good runs and just remind me that I am a good skier, I do know how to do the sport, even if it wasn't great for the past couple of days. At that point, it's just reminding myself not to let the doubts get in my head too much."

Eileen put aside her nursing career to travel full-time with Shiffrin. Her mother skied some while growing up in Massachusetts, and then immersed herself in the sport after her anesthesiologist husband, Jeff, a former collegiate skier for Dartmouth, introduced her to masters competitions. Eileen became fascinated with the intricacies of making perfect turns, and Shiffrin emphasized that her mother is every bit as important to her career as technical coach Mike Day and strength and speed coach Jeff Lackie.

"My mom is the only one who's been there since day one, and she's always been involved," Shiffrin said. "Her knowledge has evolved as I've evolved. I think it's a special relationship. I'm thankful for that, and I think it gives me an edge."

Eileen readily admits the mix of parenting and coaching isn't always tranquil.

"We've had our up and downs with me trying to be a mom and also a coach," Eileen said with a laugh in a phone interview. "Sometimes I get aggravated with her attitude, you know, the typical mother-daughter relationship. So sometimes we butt heads a little bit, but for the most part, we get along really, really well and always have."

Eileen naturally loves seeing her daughter on the cover of Outside magazine and Sports Illustrated, but she also frets about skiing's impact on the rest of Mikaela's life.

"At the moment, there's no way she can go to college, there's so much on her plate," says Eileen. "Even if it wasn't an Olympic year, just trying to be an all-event athlete is so consuming. There's no time left for anything else."

And while many are engrossed with whether Shiffrin can match Lindsey Vonn's career total of World Cup victories, or with how many Olympic medals she can pile up by 2022 or 2026, Eileen suggests fans should just appreciate the here and now.

Eileen says last season's frustrations with imperfect training conditions "are the kind of thing that can burn somebody out, and make somebody like Mikaela decide to move on. I don't feel like she's necessarily in it for the long haul. She may find she's had enough and there's more to life than banging your head against the wall, because she definitely believes there's more to life than ski racing."

Looking back on how her daughter stunned the world with gold at Sochi, Eileen said it was a blessing the Shiffrins were in Europe when NBC began cranking up its 2014 Winter Olympics hype.

"We didn't see any of that, and thank God we didn't, because it's stressful enough," Eileen said. "She probably won't see any of the commercials or any of the notoriety that comes out about her this time, either, and it's probably better that way. Thinking of being the American face of the Olympics is incredibly flattering to her, but it's not something she thrives on. If anything, it would probably backfire and make her feel like she has to live up to all of these expectations."

Those expectations for 2018 began to mount shortly after Shiffrin won at Sochi. Then, with almost a casual air, she told reporters she might win three or more medals at the next Games.

As bold as that outlook was, Eileen didn't regret hearing her daughter say it.

"I was super proud of Mikaela for even thinking along those lines," Eileen said. "I think that unless you start thinking along those lines, you would not even be apt to try it."

That outspokenness was at odds with Mikaela's personality, though.

"She's not a diva," Eileen said. "She has huge respect for the other girls she's racing against, and she'd never ever assume she's going to walk away with anything. She's shy, and she's not concerned with being the most popular girl in the room. She loves to fly under the radar."

She'll continue to fly down slopes in Pyeongchang, but it won't be under the radar.

Tom Weir covered eight Winter Olympics as a columnist for USA Today.

Organisers of the 2018 Winter Olympics will reportedly use "drone-catching drones" to intercept any potential safety threats via air in Pyeongchang amid concerns the devices could be used to interrupt competition.

Ryan Young of Yahoo Sports reported the Winter Games' safety division, the Pyeongchang Olympics anti-Terrorism and Safety Headquarters, will use drones to catch other drones if one is detected approaching an event via radar.

It's said their drones will deploy a net to inhibit any airborne craft that encroach upon the events in Pyeongchang, although more rigorous measures—such as helicopters—are also available.

MailOnline's Harry Pettit reported organisers of the Winter Olympics fear terrorists may look to use the remote-controlled machines to carry "bombs toward crowd members or athletes."

The Games' security detail is said to be 60,000 strong—including 50,000 South Korean soldiers—and a SWAT team recently conducted a successful practice drill involving a drone sending a bomb toward a bus with athletes aboard.

Pettit's report also provided quotes from a spokesperson from the Olympic headquarters, who sought to assure the measures in place would assure this will be a safe two-week competition:

"We have response systems in place not only for terror and other manmade threats but also natural disasters like earthquakes and heavy snowfall. We are preparing to provide guests to the Pyeongchang Olympics with the safest competition in Winter Olympics history."

In any case, it's believed any wayward drones would have a challenge in causing a stir at the Games as Young reported the no-fly zone around the location means anything airborne would be detected "well before they would reach any Olympic venue."

Security personnel have also been armed with "drone guns" that, when aimed at a potential threat, jam the drone's signal and "flies it back to the ground."

Drones are a new threat on major sporting events that utilise new-age technology to have any impact, but an old-fashioned net may provide a somewhat simple solution to any potential threats in Pyeongchang.