When Eileen Gu comes home in two weeks to serve as grand marshal of San Francisco's Lunar New Year parade, the constant explosion of firecrackers along the route will probably feel familiar.
That is Gu's life in the global spotlight: eruptions, fireworks, detonations, all the time.
Gu, arguably the most polarizing Olympian of her era, was unable to defend her gold medal in Monday's freestyle ski big air event. But she rallied from seventh place to win the silver medal with a stellar final jump, becoming the most decorated freestyle skier in Olympic history.
Gu now has two silver medals in Milan-Cortina, adding to the three (two golds and a silver) she won in Beijing four years ago. She has one more event - halfpipe - on Saturday, and a last chance to win gold at these Olympics.
If she doesn't, is that good enough for China, given its enormous investment in Gu?
As Gu celebrated after her final jump, the NBC commentators gushed, not even a little ironically, "Who isn't an Eileen Gu fan?"
Gu certainly has her fans, and 2.3 million followers on Instagram. But she has plenty of critics. She created a firestorm seven years ago when, at age 15, she declared she would compete for China, her mother's birth country, despite having been raised in San Francisco and competed for the United States as a young skier. Four years ago, as the youngest freestyle Olympic champion, she became the face of the Beijing Games.
The University High graduate became a global superstar. And also a geopolitical lightning rod.
She's been called a traitor for refusing to represent her birth country, the United States. Gu pledges allegiance to no country, trying to sidestep the dispute by saying, "When I'm in the U.S. I'm American, but when I'm in China, I'm Chinese."
In truth, she's that most American of entities: an unashamed capitalist who seems intent on making the most money she can.
Gu earned, according to Sportico, an estimated $23 million in endorsements last year, from companies including Tiffany, Red Bull and Porsche as well as a slew of Chinese companies such as Anta.
More controversial is the recent revelation that the Chinese government has paid her, along with American born figure skater Beverly Zhu, $14 million over the past three years. The information appeared online in 2025 in a public government budget; the athletes names were later deleted, along with ensuing social media comments. Berkeley-based Chinese Digital Times called it a "wave of cross-platform censorship," scrubbing comments that expressed concern over the exorbitant taxpayer expenditure for Chinese-American athletes.
Seems unlikely that China would pay that kind of money for silver medals.
Over the past four-year cycle, Gu has been busy. She models, she does endless endorsements, she enrolled full-time at Stanford, majoring in international relations - though because she has spoken of taking a quantum physics class that is often reported as her major - and she's battled injury while trying to stay at the top of her acrobatic, demanding sport.
She continues to deflect questions about her citizenship and whether she cut a deal to retain her American passport, as China does not allow dual citizenship. She refuses to be drawn into political debate, whether it's over China's human rights abuses or President Trump's China tariffs.
"I would say ‘I didn't know I got promoted to trade minister,'" she told Time magazine. "It's irresponsible to ask me to be the mouthpiece for any agenda."
Despite her evasions, Gu manages to create controversy no matter what she says. When right-wing commentators and Trump recently lashed out at skier Hunter Hess for expressing concern about what he sees happening in the United States, Gu expressed sympathy.
"I'm sorry that the headline that is eclipsing the Olympics has to be something so unrelated to the spirit of the Games - it really runs contrary to everything the Olympics should be," Gu said. "As someone who has got caught in the crossfire before, I feel sorry for the athletes. I hope they can ski their very best."
Pretty innocuous words, but she found herself in the crossfire again - attacked for being China's "global PR asset." She's even been pitted against fellow Bay Area athlete Alysa Liu, whose father fled China after participating in the student protests in Tiananmen Square, in a debate over whose Chinese-American roots are more palatable.
Gu has said "sometimes it feels like I'm carrying the weight of two countries on my shoulders." She is definitely attacked from all sides: for not criticizing China, for not denouncing Trump, for putting blond streaks in her hair that critics say are to look less Chinese.
Gu, who is taking this year off of Stanford, doesn't always make it easy on herself. This week she lashed out at Olympic organizers because of her schedule, which had her competing in one event, big air, while a practice session for another event, halfpipe, was taking place. Gu would miss one of the three allotted three-hour training sessions for the halfpipe.
"It's really unfair and difficult for me to deal with," she told reporters, elaborating on the issue on her Instagram account. She appealed to the International Ski and Snowboard Federation about adjusting her training schedule but was not accommodated.
Her complaints seem tone deaf and self-absorbed. In more than 30 years of covering Olympians, I've witnessed countless multi-discipline athletes who have scheduling conflicts and have to make adjustments and sacrifices to compete in their different events. It's not unfair, it's just the way it is.
Gu's final event will be the halfpipe, where she is the defending gold medalist, and then it's home to San Francisco for the parade. In a videotaped message after she was named grand marshal, Gu said, "I can't wait to light the fireworks to start the parade."
For Eileen Gu, the fireworks never seem to stop.
This article originally published at S.F.-born Eileen Gu continues to haul in Olympic medals, fans, money and contempt.