Handball, Fencing, Badmitton!
This Friday I leave for a weekend wedding in Vancouver, and just tweleve hours after I get back, the delightful people who gave me life are coming to town for six days. This all sounds very exciting and, don't get me wrong, it is, but I just realized something that will put a bit of a damper on the fun. Sure, I'm pumped for the roadtrip and the wedding and the hiking and the geocaching and the wine tasting and the movies and the shopping and the free meals that are in my immediate future, but--STOP THE PRESSES--THE OLYMPICS ARE ONLY THREE DAYS AWAY!!!
I *heart* the Olympics. I *big puffy overstuffed heart with sparkles and bells and whistles* the Olympics. When the Olympics (also acceptably called "the Lalympics" "the 'Lympics" and "the Lollyimpics") are on tv, there's not much I'd rather do than sit on my butt for fourteen straight days with a large plastic bin stocked with a variety of processed snack foods while watching fine-tuned athletes out-higher, out-faster, and out-stronger each other for shiny medallions and sweet sweet glory. (No, the irony is not lost on me.)
There are some hard-core sports fans out there who think the Olympics are overproduced and that the networks give more playtime to goofy human-interest stories than to the actual competitions. To them I say, "You're absolutely right." The pure sporting nature of the Games is often overshadowed by those misty, slow-mo docu-shorts about how this athlete was born in Russia with no arms or legs and was sold into white slavery for a brick of cheese by her own mother, which sounds bad but isn't because she eventually ended up in Connecticutt where she has trained twenty-five hours a day for fourteen years with her Nigerian coach, all for the opportunity to hurl something really heavy across a field and win a necklace that doesn't go with anything. And to those people who naysay these human-interest stories, I say, "Too bad for you. They're here to stay, and I love 'em!"
Sports are great and all--and how can you not be impressed by the awesome display of dedication, skill, talent, and pure dumb luck when the world's best meet head-to-head like this?--but if I had to choose between pure sport competition and the sappy end-of-the-day montage, well, I'll take the montage. See, the Olympics aren't just about pushing the body to physical extremes; they're also about pushing the soul to emotional extremes. Where else can you see the greatest triumph next to the soul-crushingest despair? Where else are we more acutely aware of what makes us human? In one scene you have the Victor waving from the top of the podium, her lips mouthing (most of) the words to her national anthem, and then you fade to a shot of the Sure Thing pulling her hamstring off the starting block in the first day of competition. Now imagine a slow-motion closeup, a John Williams anthem swelling in the background: There he is, our winner, his arms raised above his head, pumping the heavens. He blinks, slowly, brings his fingers to his lips, slowly, and blows a kiss to the crowd. He drapes his flag across his shoulders like a cape. We smile as we watch him; we can't help it. And then his edges soften until he blurs out of focus, and there, in the background, we see the downcast face of the guy who was just one-thousandth of a second too slow that morning. "Do-over," he thinks, if his language has a word for it. Oh, the agony and the ecstasy!
This year I will be missing the Opening Ceremonies, the event that, in 2002, made me drop everything in California, hop in the car, and drive twelve hours through the dead of night and winter to Salt Lake City to be a part of the action. No, this year instead of experiencing that captivating five-hour processional of noble athletes in funny hats, I will be at a dumb BBQ and bonfire on the stunning beach of beautiful British Columbia, forced to eat excellent food and make merry with interesting people. Bummer, huh. My only consolation is that that hateful troll Bob Costas, Official Olympic Flame-Snuffer, will not be in attendance.
And people were saying that nobody really watches the Olympics anymore - Bah!
I'm so happy to hear I'm not the only one who's a sucker for the musical montage!
Well, few real sports fans really watch the olympics anymore. Since the USOC and other governing bodies started to operate the olympics as a business, the idealism and grandeur of the event has faded. Now, corporations run the show. We see only those sports that can bring in advertising dollars and few sports in which Americans are not favored to win.
The olympic games are schlock plainly and simply. More time is focused on "human interest" than the games themselves. Plus, the massive doping scandals that have rocked "amateur" sports over the last few years have tainted any real relevance these sports once had.
Until the Olympics is once again about athletes and sports, you can count this sports nut out!
I liked the 'Pics better when they were all amateur athletes.
You make a good case for watching the glory, honor, blood, sweat, tears, emotions, etc. But I think I'll be outside playing frisbee with my dog instead.