OBERHOF, Germany, Jan. 14 — Robert Pipkins is being stalked. This time, it's not skinheads chasing him. Instead, it's clutches of giggling German teenage girls who have been peering around corners and knocking on doors at his hotel, hoping to catch a glimpse of the now-famous U.S. luge racer.

"It's not a problem," Pipkins, 20, the 1992 junior world champion, insists with a smile.

The last time Pipkins and the U.S. luge team were in this eastern German town, there was a problem. Visiting a local disco with a group of teammates on Oct. 29, Pipkins, who is black, was insulted and harassed by a group of 15 neo-Nazi skinheads who made monkey noises and shouted, "Nigger out!"

Teammate Duncan Kennedy, 26, intervened, allowing Pipkins to escape. Kennedy was then kicked and pummeled by the skinheads, suffering a swollen nose, lumps on his head and bruised ribs.

"I've never experienced that much hatred," Kennedy, who is white, said this week. "It was a shocking thing."

The return this week of Pipkins, Kennedy and the rest of the American luge team to Oberhof for a competition Saturday has prompted a media circus, a rarity in luge, traditionally an obscure sport.

About 15 television crews plus dozens of reporters were on hand to cover a news conference Thursday night featuring Kennedy and Pipkins. While attacks on many other foreigners have become old hat in Germany, beating up Americans was world news.

Almost forgotten is the competition — a World Cup event featuring athletes from 14 nations and considered a key warm-up for the Olympics in Lillehammer, Norway, next month.

Kennedy appears to have recovered well from his injuries. He scooted down Oberhof's 1,100 meter track in 45.294 seconds today, the fastest time recorded during the final training runs, continuing a streak of good performances by team members.

The attack, said Claire Sherred, the U.S. team manager, "certainly brought the team closer together."

But to prevent a recurrence, uniformed and plain clothes police are prowling the team hotel and the roads in and around Oberhof. A quick reaction force stands at the ready. All of this is for a town so small — 2,400 people — that it lacks its own police station.

Nary a skinhead has been seen in town thus far — or for that matter, since the October attack — but with the whole world watching, officials are taking no chances. "I just have an uneasy feeling," said Mayor Hartmut Goebel, strolling the town's snowy streets this morning.

Deathly afraid of losing the sport and tourist industry, the town has welcomed the Americans back with grateful arms. The owner of the Kurparkklause disco, site of the attack, has pledged drinks on the house if the Americans come back. So far, they've stayed away. "It's not on my list of things to do," said Pipkins.

Ingrid Roth, the owner, gloomily reported that business has dropped dramatically, its operation curtailed by authorities. "The whole community — every citizen — was saddened by the incident. Nobody comes anymore," she said.

People in Oberhof are quick to point out that the alleged assailants were out-of-towners — they were from Suhl, 10 miles down the road, an industrial city hit hard by plant closings.

Kennedy and Pipkins say they do not hold the attack against the townspeople of Oberhof, or the vast majority of Germans. Both said they had many German friends and would continue to visit the country.

"Just seeing the support of the town — that was nice," said Kennedy, a long-time team stalwart who fell in love with the sport as a 12-year-old shining shoes for ABC at the 1980 Winter Olympics, held in his hometown of Lake Placid, N.Y.

Gestures of friendship have prevailed this week. The U.S. team presented the town with a signed, miniature luge handcrafted by Coach Wolfgang Schaedler, which is prominently displayed in a bookstore next to the town hall.

But for all the good feeling, the viciousness of the attack has left an indelible imprint on the Americans. Kennedy said the German government needed to take stricter measures against neo-Nazis. "Obviously, it hasn't been dealt with strongly enough in the past," he said.

It was a revelation for Pipkins as well. The Staten Island, N.Y., native, who picked up the sport in 1988 after reading about it in a brochure, said he had never before experienced racial hatred. "I guess I was lucky to go so long without anything like this happening to me," said Pipkins, who is studying architectural engineering at Drexel.

"The first thing I was feeling was fear when the skinheads were chasing after me," said Pipkins. "Then when I saw Duncan in the lobby of the hotel, bleeding, I felt guilty, that he was hurt because of me, that it was my fault. Quite possibly he risked his life to save mine." The trial of two of the skinheads accused of participating in the attack is scheduled to start Monday, and Kennedy says he expects to testify. "I stood up for what I believe in on the night of the incident, and I guess I'll have to do it again," he said.

The two accused, considered ringleaders, are charged with causing grievous bodily harm and face up to five years in jail. Similar charges are pending against five other suspects.

Early this morning, before the start of a final day of training, Pipkins had some time to himself at the top of the track above Oberhof, stretching and doing breathing exercises, looking calmly over the snow-and pine-covered hills of the Thuringian Forest as clouds rushed over distant ridge tops.

The attack seemed far away, at least for the moment. "When I'm at the handles, it's just me and the track," Pipkins had said the night before.

Kennedy said the same. "I've been able to concentrate," he said. "That doesn't mean I've forgotten what happened. I never will."