Golden Slipper Still Doesn’t Fit Jansen : Speedskating: Olympic woes continue as he skids to eighth in the 500 meters.

For anyone who has suffered with speedskater Dan Jansen through his sad Winter Olympic history, the events of Monday in the Olympic Hall no doubt inspired numerous feelings. Disbelief should not have been among them for the only truly incredible result would have been a Jansen triumph.

Yet, his wife, Robin, sat among the crowd with their infant daughter long after Jansen’s fourth and probably last chance to win a medal in the 500 meters had literally slipped away and searched for an answer.

“As soon as I saw him slip, I said, ‘Why, God? Why again?’ ” she said after his eighth-place finish. “God can’t be that cruel.

“I’m sure some day we’ll find out. Someday, we’ll understand.”

But for Monday, in an arena designed to look like an overturned Viking ship, it was their lives that once more had been turned upside down.

Were it not for the knowledge that he has been the most star-crossed Olympian in recent memory, Jansen, 28, would have been the overwhelming favorite. No one else has skated the distance in under 36 seconds, and he has done it four times, most recently in lowering the world record to 35.76.

Seemingly relaxed as he stepped onto the track purported to be the world’s fastest, a track on which he set a world record in December, he said later that he was confident of victory even as he entered the final turn.

Then, 150 meters from the finish, his left skate slipped. Panicking because he knew that he had lost time, he tried to compensate by pushing himself harder. He slipped again, this time touching his left hand to the ice to prevent a fall.

His time at the finish was 36.88, slower than nine of his last 10 races, and .35 of a second behind Russia’s Aleksandr Golubev, who won in an Olympic record 36.33. Golubev’s teammate, Sergei Klevchenya, was second in 36.39, and Japan’s Manabu Horii was third in 36.53.

After his race, Jansen put his hands on top of his head in frustration, then donned sunglasses and left the arena.

“No questions, please,” he said as he brushed by reporters.

Thirty minutes later, he returned to face the questions, many of which he could not answer without having seen a videotape.

“I don’t know,” he said when asked what happened on the final turn. “I was fine up to that point. That’s not a place where you would normally slip. That’s why I can’t believe it. I just can’t explain.

“I had a great morning. I slept great. I was less nervous than I was for the World Championships two weeks ago. I thought I was going to break a record.

“For as much time as it cost me, I still was only three-tenths of a second off a medal. I think I would have won by quite a bit if I hadn’t slipped.”

Asked if he felt sorry for himself, Jansen said, “No, I might later. Right now, I don’t know what to say.

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Everybody knows I’m the best in that race. It just didn’t happen.”

Jansen said the ice was harder than it had been during his practices. But some skaters said the ice was soft, and others said it was perfect. They all agreed that he should have been the winner.

“I believe that Jansen is the fastest sprinter on earth, so the eighth place he took today just does not fit,” Russia’s Klevchenya said.

Added Jansen’s coach, Peter Mueller, “It just doesn’t happen at the Games for him. That doesn’t take away from what he is, the greatest sprinter of all time and a great gentleman. It’s just not meant to happen, I guess.”

Jansen, from the Milwaukee suburb of Greenfield, skated in his first Winter Olympics at 18, finishing a surprising fourth in the 500 in Sarajevo in 1984 and establishing himself as a rising young star.

Although he was still precocious, he was considered among the medal contenders four years later in Calgary, Canada. But in the early morning hours on the day he was to compete in the 500, he received word that his sister, Jane, had died after a lengthy battle with leukemia. He was distraught, but he skated anyway, and fell. Four days later, hours before returning home for his sister’s funeral, he skated in the 1,000 and fell again.

During the next four years, he was constantly reminded of the tragedy in interviews, and, by the time he arrived in Albertville, France, for the 1992 Winter Olympics, he was filled with anxiety, he admitted later, about whether he could put Calgary out of his mind and focus on the task at hand.

He could not. In the 500 meters, a race in which he figured to finish no worse than second, he hesitated entering the final turn, the same turn where he slipped here Monday, and finished fourth. In despair, he later finished 26th in the 1,000.

But he and his coach, Peter Mueller devised a new strategy in the two years before these Games. They would not talk about past Olympic disappointments, focusing all their energy on succeeding here.

It is still possible that they will. Jansen is scheduled to compete Friday in the 1,000, not a dominating event for him like the 500 but one in which he is among the world’s fastest.

“I’m not a quitter,” Jansen said. “I won’t give up. I’ll just go out and skate. If it happens, it does. If not, I’ll go on. Same old thing.”

That is not entirely true. Since the last Winter Olympics, Jansen’s wife has given birth to a daughter. They named her Jane, after Jansen’s late sister. He said earlier this year that going home after races to play on the floor with her has taught him that life is not just a 500-meter race.

“Life goes on,” Robin said upon reflection Monday. “Our life doesn’t revolve around skating. We’ll be fine.”