2012's Best: Felix Baumgartner's uplifting fall

Via ABC

By Adam Cancryn

Felix Baumgartner and the Red Bull Stratos team pushed the boundaries of human athleticism in front of millions around the world, and lived to tell about it. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

It started with an idea.

Five years ago, Felix Baumgartner wondered whether he could freefall from the stratosphere. He had already conquered some of the most dangerous, and lowest, manmade peaks on Earth, and now it was time to set his sights a bit higher. Twenty-three-and-a-half miles higher, to be more exact. It would be a challenge bordering on impossible, less a stunt than a science experiment. And that near impossibility is what made it worth trying.

The idea went little-noticed outside of the daredevil and scientific communities at the time. The rest of us were more concerned with a different type of falling: falling stock prices, falling home values, falling dreams. A global economy built on reckless growth had risen to unsustainable heights, and then plummeted. There was no parachute to slow its descent. World leaders and individuals alike scrambled for ideas, any ideas, to bail out before we hit the ground. Amid the chaos, few had time to look to the stars with Felix, to a point in the future when we might see progress.

That point arrived on Oct. 14. But as millions around the world huddled in front of televisions and computers to watch a balloon whisk Felix away in his space-age basket, it was hard to say we’d made much progress. Nations remained wracked by conflict so endless that suffering is their way of life. Environmental disasters, both manmade and natural, kill scores and yet are so commonplace as to go almost unnoticed.

And our economic fears, persistent as they may be, have largely been displaced by mortal fears. There is the penetrating, ever-present knowledge that some stranger could shatter our very existence with the twitch of of a finger, and for no higher purpose at that. By the time the balloon reached 128,100 feet and Felix stepped cautiously onto his pod’s small external ledge, the year 2012 had been marked as the Year of Death. It was one scarred by mass killings (Aurora, Oak Creek, Minneapolis, etc.) and suicides (Junior Seau, Chris Lighty, and thousands of others). One ruined by far too many funerals and far too little hope. In the days since Felix dropped off that small ledge and down toward Earth’s ghostly visage, we are awash in more tragedy, for which there is no simple solution. At what feels like an emotional breaking point, we are at a loss for practical ideas.

Yet here against that backdrop is Felix, a speck on the screens of millions united in horror as he spins spins spins out of control against the thickening atmosphere, and then in relief as he slows and rights himself, resuming a strangely tranquil 730 mile-per-hour fall to the ground. Here he is minutes later, floating toward a perfect landing and collapsing to the parched ground, parachute blousing about him, the consummation of a near-impossible mission built on the global ingenuity, optimism and ambition we worried we’d lost forever.



It was the single greatest sports moment of the year, a seminal accomplishment for science and for space exploration, and the peak of Felix Baumgartner’s career. More than that, it was a much-needed moment of inspiration. Baumgartner fought through logistical and personal challenges over the past five years, most famously fleeing the U.S. in 2010 rather than spend another anxiety-ridden day trapped in his space suit. The single-minded pursuit of this near-impossible idea, of progress, won out.

Nearing three months after the record-breaking freefall, the world faces its own abyss. Dire political, economic and societal problems confront us, and yet we have so far clung to the ledge, refusing to part with the outdated tropes and nonsensical tradition that paralyze us. The single-minded pursuit of progress is in jeopardy.

It’s time now, in 2013, to stare into the abyss, salute, and step off the ledge. It’s time to trust that our ingenuity, optimism and ambition will pull us out of our spin and land us safely, two feet on solid ground.

Adam Cancryn is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.