Wednesday, August 18, 2004
OK, folks. I have a confession to make.
I am an Olympic junkie.
I've tried to hide this fact all my life. Tried to steal a glimpse here or there, watching only the few events that I absolutely could not live without. Tried to act coy, cool, when asked about a particular athlete or gold medal count or portion of Team USA.
But now I'm stepping out to tell the world that in a mere 10 minutes, I will again, as I have for the last five nights, plunk down in front of the television, with Mike sitting on the sofa and Lucky atop her pedestal, to watch another night of Olympic madness. What events are being televised don't even seem to matter anymore. If the Games are on, darn it, I'll be watching. (And you can bet that if swimming or gymnastics is involved, I'll make doubly sure to be in virtual attendance.)
I'm not sure why I've always had a fascination with the Olympics. Perhaps it's because as a longtime athlete -- I didn't say how GOOD of an athlete, just that I was one for many of my formative years -- I have a deep admiration for people who possess "the gift," those with God-given talents far superior to 97.5% of the rest of us. Maybe, deep down, I wish I could have those gifts, too, and use them to stand on a little podium with a gold medal around my neck, hearing the national anthem of my country (perhaps I'd compete for my family's native Norway :)) played for thousands of people to hear.
But this year, there's something deeper than that in the Olympics for me. In a time of uncertainty, where countries seem to be routinely beating up on one another with a ferocity and a cruelty I've never witnessed before, the Olympics is a much-needed haven. For a news junkie such as myself, there's no escaping the war in Iraq or the horrendous acts in Sudan or the unjust imprisonments at Guantanamo Bay or the AIDS epidemic spiraling wildly out of control in Africa. But when the Olympics are in progress, I can see instead the beauty of these countries, see athletes -- many of whom are younger than I -- bring a smiling face to the international stage and, even if temporarily, reduce countries' conflicts to a fight for a medal, to a win or a loss in a swimming pool or on a basketball court. And it is this representation, this side of the world, this perseverance of the human spirit, that I so love to admire, to take part in, even if as a mere viewer laying in front of a small television in a living room in Virginia.
That's why I'm so attached to the Olympics. This year, the tenuousness of international relations has placed more of a tangibility on the need for healthy human competition and the sportsmanship that athletics embodies -- or should.
We in the rest of the world, removed from the realms of athleticism, need to keep this in mind when when the gold medals are taken home, when the Games disappear for another four years. We oughtn't let our international fires burn brighter and harsher after the Olympic torch is extinguished. We can learn something from these two weeks in Athens. And I think we should.
I am an Olympic junkie.
I've tried to hide this fact all my life. Tried to steal a glimpse here or there, watching only the few events that I absolutely could not live without. Tried to act coy, cool, when asked about a particular athlete or gold medal count or portion of Team USA.
But now I'm stepping out to tell the world that in a mere 10 minutes, I will again, as I have for the last five nights, plunk down in front of the television, with Mike sitting on the sofa and Lucky atop her pedestal, to watch another night of Olympic madness. What events are being televised don't even seem to matter anymore. If the Games are on, darn it, I'll be watching. (And you can bet that if swimming or gymnastics is involved, I'll make doubly sure to be in virtual attendance.)
I'm not sure why I've always had a fascination with the Olympics. Perhaps it's because as a longtime athlete -- I didn't say how GOOD of an athlete, just that I was one for many of my formative years -- I have a deep admiration for people who possess "the gift," those with God-given talents far superior to 97.5% of the rest of us. Maybe, deep down, I wish I could have those gifts, too, and use them to stand on a little podium with a gold medal around my neck, hearing the national anthem of my country (perhaps I'd compete for my family's native Norway :)) played for thousands of people to hear.
But this year, there's something deeper than that in the Olympics for me. In a time of uncertainty, where countries seem to be routinely beating up on one another with a ferocity and a cruelty I've never witnessed before, the Olympics is a much-needed haven. For a news junkie such as myself, there's no escaping the war in Iraq or the horrendous acts in Sudan or the unjust imprisonments at Guantanamo Bay or the AIDS epidemic spiraling wildly out of control in Africa. But when the Olympics are in progress, I can see instead the beauty of these countries, see athletes -- many of whom are younger than I -- bring a smiling face to the international stage and, even if temporarily, reduce countries' conflicts to a fight for a medal, to a win or a loss in a swimming pool or on a basketball court. And it is this representation, this side of the world, this perseverance of the human spirit, that I so love to admire, to take part in, even if as a mere viewer laying in front of a small television in a living room in Virginia.
That's why I'm so attached to the Olympics. This year, the tenuousness of international relations has placed more of a tangibility on the need for healthy human competition and the sportsmanship that athletics embodies -- or should.
We in the rest of the world, removed from the realms of athleticism, need to keep this in mind when when the gold medals are taken home, when the Games disappear for another four years. We oughtn't let our international fires burn brighter and harsher after the Olympic torch is extinguished. We can learn something from these two weeks in Athens. And I think we should.
Comments:
Post a Comment
