You Just Never REALLY Know Some People

The morning after the Men's Halfpipe Snowboard final at the Sochi games, I read this article.  Now, I was never a HUGE Shaun White fan, but I could appreciate his talent, and saw my own son who, for a while, thought Shaun was V E R Y cool.  But this article made me a little bit bigger fan.  It was written by Mike Wise for the Washington Post.


KRASNAYA POLYANA, Russia — COLUMN | What happens when the story you came to write doesn’t become the story anymore? What happens when that story does a 180-degree turn in mid-air, then a 540 and finally a dizzying 1260, spinning your perception completely around?

I had heard Shaun White had become too big for his snowboard bindings. He didn’t hang with other members of the close-knit Team USA community. His “people” shut down halfpipes at ski resorts so White could ride by himself. He wasn’t the cool kid we once called the Flying Tomato anymore, a thatch of reddish-orange hair rising 22 feet off a wall of ice.

No, he was now the Descending Diva — S.W.E., Shaun White Enterprises, the $15-mil-per-year action sports icon — the world’s richest, most famous and now most isolated extreme star.
He needed to be put back in place, I thought. He needed to remember the, well, dudeliness that got him here.

Then the story forked. Maybe I should explain.

About an hour before White competed, I met a freckle-faced, St. Louis kid with a stars-and-stripes beanie and a little miniature flag named Ben Hughes, his mother Liz, and their friend, Kaitlyn Lyles. Turns out Ben and Kaitlyn are here because of the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

Ben got a diagnosis of acute lymphoblastic leukemia at 6 years old. He underwent 2 ¹ / ₂ years of radiation and chemotherapy. Before he finished his treatments at the end of 2012, he had found two new inspirations in life: snowboarding and Shaun White. He loved both.

Kaitlyn learned of White while watching the 2010 Vancouver Games on television from her hospital bed at Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital in Pensacola, Fla., where she underwent chemotherapy for osteosarcoma, a rare form of blood cancer. 

“I was literally in that hospital room for all of February,” she said. “Shaun White is what really got me through. I loved that even after he clinched the gold medal, he still went for it, trying tricks and refusing to coast when he won.”

Kaitlyn playfully vowed not to leave Sochi before she was Mrs. Shaun White. 

I asked when the kids would get to meet White. 

“They don’t,” Liz said. “That’s not part of the deal. We just get to watch. They go home Friday after we see a hockey game. This is our only day here. I know. What can you do?”

In journalism school, they tell you early on not to get involved in the story. Keep professional distance from subjects and sources to maintain objectivity or something like that. But these kids were thisclose to their Olympic dream. Shoot, Kaitlyn was the length of two snowboards away from her future husband. Two cancer survivors had traveled almost 6,000 miles to get within maybe seven feet of their athletic hero and some rule or protocol was going to forbid them from actually meeting?

Hell with Olympic rules. 

I went over to Nick Alexakos, press officer for the U.S. snowboard team, told him about Ben, the kid behind me in the beanie. I held back on Kaitlyn, thinking her chances of having a restraining order put on her were greater than meeting him if I mentioned the Mrs. White stuff. 

So now here comes White, finishing up with the TV reporters and about to meet up with the print media in the mixed zone, about 20 yards from Ben and Kaitlyn. “Hey, if I lift that 10-year-old kid over the barricade, will I get in trouble?” I ask my clear-headed colleague, Rick Maese, who gave me the nyet look. “I wouldn’t do it, dude.” 

I was torn when White suddenly made the decision for me. Alexakos directed him to where Ben was, their eyes met and that was it.

I don’t know if White has caught more rarefied air in that moment, catapulting himself in one leap over the barricade. I do know one 10-year-old’s life will never be the same.

He high-fived them, they all kind of hugged as Ben shook his head in awe. 

Said Kaitlyn: “I’m like, ‘Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh, my God. I love him. He’s cuter in person.”

Liz Hughes finally covered her mouth as tears tumbled from her eyes. 



“Thank you,” she said, grabbing my arm. “Thank you.”

“You’re . . . You’re . . .” I couldn’t speak. I just turned away, looked up at the mountains and wiped my eyes, finishing the “Welcome” part a minute later.

You think Ben was shocked? I came here ready to prick a legend’s balloon, resolute that the carefree kid I met eight years ago in Torino, who called his dad “The Rog,” was now an out-of-touch celebrity that didn’t connect with real people anymore.

And then that angle crumbled beneath a wall of emotion.

The truth is, it was gone the moment I met his mother behind the stands hours earlier, before White had hurdled that barrier. I asked Cathy White what she thought of the backlash against her son, including competitors using social media to skewer him for either pulling out of the slopestyle event or not being one of the guys. She felt bad for him, saying, “It’s funny: They will tweet things, but up on the mountain they will be right next to him and not say anything.”

She reminded me Shaun is a survivor of two open-heart surgeries as a young child, that he belongs to the “Zipper Club,” with children whose chests have been surgically cut open. He gives 8 percent of his $15 million a year to the St. Jude’s children’s fund. Shaun’s sister, Cathy’s daughter, underwent 19 brain surgeries as a child.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone this, but when he was on that hospital bed during the second surgery and I didn’t know what would happen to my child, a family friend came up and said something to me,” Cathy said. “We’re not religious and he was a Mormon, an LDS elder in the church. He said, ‘Don’t worry. Your son is going to make it. He is going to be all right. He is going to grow up and become somebody special.’ ”

 

Shaun White did. He grew up to become the greatest snowboarder in the world, so famous and admired that in an instant he could change a child’s life by clearing another barrier.

“I wish him the best of health,” White said of Ben, hours later at a news conference, saying he really enjoyed the encounter. “For me to be remembered in this sport, I don’t know if tonight makes or breaks my place in the sport. I would like to be remembered as more than a snowboarder. This is one big part of who I am, but it’s not all who I am. So yeah.”

Did I mention he wiped out in his first run of the finals and ended up finishing fourth without a medal, the first time in three Olympics he hasn’t won gold? No. That’s because, in the scheme of things, it’s not tragic.

“He’s a very good guy,” Liz Hughes said, her eyes welling again. “He does a lot of good things for many people.”

For every kid with a terminal disease, for every reporter convinced he has found the essence of who a person is, there is a moral to this story:

Never be too sure of where you’re going because you might just end up someplace else, crying on a mountaintop with a mother whose child’s cancer is thankfully in remission, with a rich and famous action sports star who delivered the Olympic moment of his life on the day he failed to win a medal.

For more by Mike Wise, visit washingtonpost.com/wise.

Video Sunday

So That Oath Meant Nothing to You?

Remember a couple weeks ago when I wrote about the Olympic oath that athlete's symbolically take before the games begin?  Remember what it says:
"In the name of all the competitors, I promise that we shall take part in these Olympic Games, respecting and abiding by the rules which govern them, committing ourselves to a sport without doping and without drugs, in the true spirit of sportsmanship, for the glory of sport and the honor of our teams."
                                                       --The Olympic Oath


Each of the Olympians, in my simple mind, went into the games with this kind of thinking--do the very best I am able, without any short cuts or corner cutting.  In other words: no cheating.  I thought that was the basic Olympic ideal.  I guess that isn't true for everyone.

In all my swimming enjoyment last week, I was thrilled to see a South African, named Cameron, do so well in the breaststroke.  I happen to know another kid named Cameron who likes the breaststroke.  Anyways, this week the news story below showed up on my Yahoo home page in the news of the Olympics.

South African gold medalist Cameron van der Burgh admitted to taking extra underwater kicks during his 100-meter breaststroke victory last week at the Olympics, an illegal move that would have earned him a disqualification if the judges on deck had seen it.

Swimmers are allowed one underwater dolphin kick during their underwater breaststroke pullouts. Replays show Van der Burgh took three on the start.

He told the Sydney Morning Herald that he took extra kicks, but says he’s not the only one.
”If you’re not doing it, you’re falling behind,” he said. “It’s not obviously – shall we say – the moral thing to do, but I’m not willing to sacrifice my personal performance and four years of hard work for someone that is willing to do it and get away with it.”

Allowing dolphin kicks during breaststroke is relatively new. The rules were changed, in part, because of four-time gold medalist Kosuke Kitajima, a Japanese breaststroke star who routinely added rogue kicks to his underwater. These kicks angered rivals, like American, Brendan Hansen. Then the rule was changed to allow one. But the old “give ‘em an inch” rule came into play and now breast strokers are trying to sneak in as many kicks as possible, hoping to do it without drawing the attention of officials.

”It’s got to the sort of point where if you’re not doing it you’re falling behind or your giving yourself a disadvantage so everyone’s pushing the rules and pushing the boundaries, so if you’re not doing it, you’re not trying hard enough,” the South African said.

Van der Burgh can get away with the kicks because there is no underwater video review of swimming races. After testing the technology at a meet in 2010, FINA, the international swimming body, has yet to incorporate it in international meets.

After these comments and the potential uproar they’ll create, expect that to change by next year’s world championships.

You see why it is upsetting, don't you?   This kid "won" the gold medal by cheating, and then has the audacity to justify himself by saying things like this happen all the time--everyone is doing it--so he shouldn't be penalized.  I know of several young swimmers who end up disqualified each summer for doing too many dolphin kicks, to their pull-downs go too low, or they didn't touch the wall with both hands.  And you know what?  It usually only takes one DQ to figure out how to do it right.  As a summer recreation team, our coached, stroke judges, and meet officials go out of their way to TEACH the kids who to do it properly so they aren't DQed next time.  Because as adults int he program, we care about the kids' swimming abilities, but also for their moral uprightness.

That really sad thing is they have the proof on video...but with swimming the actual physical human beings who are acting as stroke judges are the only ones who can DQ a swimmer.  There are no instant replay options, like in other sports.  Yet, this kid finked on himself, but had no intention of turning in a gold medal he had not really earned.

Too bad.  He suddenly no longer fits the Olympic ideal in my mind.  He's lost a fan, he's lost respect, and he's lost his integrity.  And it is his loss.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

I think I have found my dream job.  Something I could be completely happy doing for years and year to come.  I'd like the job NBC Sports has given either Mary Carillo, their late night Olympics anchor, or Jimmy Roberts, the man-about-town for the Olympics.  I'm not picky.  Eitehr job would be great.  Maybe I could even be a two-for-one deal for NBC.

These veteran Olympic broadcasters file reports on everything from the back story of Oscar Pistorius, the South African double amputee who qualified for the semifinals in the  400 meter to a (brief) history of Hampton Court, once the palace of Henry VIII.

These two seem to be having as much fun as the athletes themselves.  They delve into the "behind the scenes" stories as well as the local history, culture and traditions.  This kind for job would be a perfect match for me.  Who do I need to talk to to work my way into that gig?

Somebody work on that, would ya?!

See the lists of video-stories these two have submitted so far:

Here for Mary

Here for Jimmy

Sunday Video

And you thought they were only cool in their Olympic races....uh.  Nope.  The US Swim team members are awesome, anywhere!

If __________ Were An Olympic Sport...

I spend about 16 days every four years in a perpetual state of "couch potato-ness".  And I love it.  Thus no post for yesterday....well, that and I have tried not to be on the computer on Sundays.

But today it dawned on me that if LAUNDRY were an Olympic sport, I could have medalled today.  You know, I could have easily qualified in "speed folding" and "stain removal" or even "sorting".  Oh yeah, I can go for speed and artistic impression.

Sadly, the closest I'll get to this is the Olympic coverage I watched as I did the laundry today.

Let The Games Begin!!

Competition begins today!  (Actually the soccer tourney began earlier this week.)  If you need me for the next 17 days or so, you'll find me at home--as often as possible--glued to my TV, watching all the events I can get.  Say it with me now: "U-S-A!!"

 

 


"In the name of all the competitors, I promise that we shall take part in these Olympic Games, respecting and abiding by the rules which govern them, committing ourselves to a sport without doping and without drugs, in the true spirit of sportsmanship, for the glory of sport and the honor of our teams."
                                                       --The Olympic Oath



This from a 2009 article in the Los Angeles Times:
"To this day, that oath really means everything to me," says Moses, who at 53 remains lean and lithe and bright-eyed. "Winning the gold was a great thrill. But right behind that was saying the oath. We can't let ourselves forget its deeper meaning. . . . It's about having a battle without wars that is fair and ethical. It's about humanity. You look at sports and the problems we've had since 1984, it can be pretty numbing. But we can't stop fighting for what's right."

Video Sunday

Video Sunday

It's Coming, It's Coming!

Yesterday was the six month mark for the start of the 2012 Summer Olympic games in London.  The closer it gets, the more excited I am!  I love the Olympics.  I love London...even though I have never been there.  I am an unabashed Anglophile...so this will be brilliant!  The only thing better would be the introduction of Olympic Quidditch.

Sigh.

National Mumble

Did you happen to see the Canadian pairs skaters, the ones who won the gold medal? On the medal podium they sang their hearts out as "Oh, Canada!" rang through the arena. For that matter, the audience sang along with gusto! It was very cool to watch.

I noticed, in contrast, that the Americans who won gold didn't seem that enthusiastic about singing our national anthem. I wonder why that is!? There were plenty of Americans in the audience, yet the audience didn't sing along like the Canadians either.

As I have watched plenty of Olympics in my day, I can't recall the vigorous singing of the national anthem even when the games were held in the USA. What makes the difference?

Is our anthem too difficult to sing? I don't think so. There are plenty of singers--talented and not-talented--who believe they can sing it. And when you sing in a group, like at the medals ceremony, the volume should counteract the pitch problems.

Is our national anthem uninspiring? Uh, no. That song is filled with musicality and emotion.

Are Americans just too timid to sing it? Timidity is not usually the problem with Americans on an international stage. Generally, Americans are over the top the other way--too boisterous, too bold, too obnoxious.

Are Americans embarrassed with our country? That could be it, but I think in elite sports there is little room for politics or social agendas. But everyone is entitled to their opinions. So, that could be, but then why would the athlete want to compete "for their country"? I'm not sure about this theory.

I have no answers to this dilemma. But I sure wish the patriotism could speak up when the national anthem plays. That is one thing I loved about our local high school football season. The audience sang that song with zest and fervor at the beginning of each game. I would have loved to see that on the Olympic stage.

Not Quite Video Sunday

Yesterday I was catching up on some Olympics I couldn't stay awake to see and got to see a special--must have been almost 30 minutes worth--from Tom Brokaw on the city of Gander, Newfoundland. I hadn't heard this story before. I am sure I am not alone in that.

CBC News - Canada - Brokaw hunts down Gander 9/11 story

This little town of 10,000 people nearly doubled on Sept. 11th when American airspace was closed and the planes en route from Europe were diverted to this little place that is home to an old WW2 airstrip and the Canadian version of the FFA.

The town opened it's arms, heart, and homes to complete strangers and showed these stranded passengers the exact opposite feelings that the terrorists showed that fateful day.

Now, seeing that this special was part of the afternoon Olympic coverage, I am not surprised that I was nearly weeping when he was through. I do wish I could find the link to it, never minding the length. I hope it is shown again. The story told is worth telling, regularly.

It made me feel a little bit more neighborly to our friends in the Great White North. And hopeful that should something like that happen where we can be of service, we would do it as well as Gander.

Reaching Out

I caught up on the Figure Skating from Vancouver this afternoon. I so love my DVR. It is the best thing since my microwave.

I watched the short program for the ladies and was touched by a short in-studio interview Bob Costas, that is Mr. NBC Olympics to you and me, had with Dan Jansen, gold medalist speed skater. It was endearing and reminded me that some experiences are human, not athletic or political.

Dan Jansen spoke of emailing Joannie Rochette, the ladies figure skater from Canada, whose mother died suddenly just a few days before Joannie was set to perform her short program.

Why would Dan call her, you may wonder?

In the 1988 Winter Games he was favored to come away with gold medals. The morning of his race he received a call that his beloved sister, Jane, had died of leukemia. With his family's blessing, and feeling Jane would be watching from above, Dan set out to compete on the world's stage. He crashed in the first turn of his race. He was disappointed at his performance, but devastated at the loss of his sister.

He understands what Joannie might be feeling. He's been there.

Dan came back to compete as a favorite in the 1992 games but, again, did not medal. Two years later, the Winter Games were held in Lillihammer, Norway. Dan returned yet again, and finally won the gold medal, which he dedicated to his sister, Jane.

Heart break can be an isolating feeling. And Olympic sports stars, these dedicated athletes, are not immune from that kind of emotion. In my heart, I applaud Dan Jansen's effort to reach out another athlete whose heart is breaking while all the world is watching. Not many of these elite athletes can understand and empathize with her. I am so glad he did. I hope it helped ease her heavy heart. It helped mine.

I ♥ The Olympics

I watched the end of the pairs figure skating this morning. WE taped it last night, and I didn't want to write until I saw the end.

Have I mentioned that I love the Olympics?

What is it about athletes devoted or crazy enough to spend 18 years together pursuing a dream of Olympic gold medals that gets me right there?! This Chinese couple--now married--were competing together before some of the women in the other pairs were born! Holy cow. That is dedication to your sport.

I love the stories the NBC guys come up with--the Canadian skier with the older brother who has cerebral palsy. Or the US Snowboarder who missed winning the gold in Torino because she got a little ahead of herself in celebrating a win before her run was over.

It is like 16 days of good, old-fashioned Kodak commercials. Now that is some good stuff.

Let the Games Begin

The Winter Olympics Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada begin tonight. Sounds like the snow is a little skimpy, but the games will go on.

While I am not a real big winter sports aficionado, I love the Olympics. It feels like a 2 week break for the real world problems. Athletes for all over the world getting together to compete to see who is the best/fastest/farthest.


I especially love the back story clips of the athletes at home, in training, and the hardships they have overcome. You know, the Kodak-moment type segments. I love that most of these athletes are just regular folks with a passion for their sport and the training and work to achieve within their sport to this level.

Tune in and keep this on your radar. Great things are going to happen.

Olympic Withdrawl and the Wonders of a DVR

I saw a news report on the national news recently that said Americans were becoming sleep deprived due to the Olympic coverage on TV. Folks are staying up late to watch the basketball and volleyball teams play or to catch the end of the gymnastics competitions.

I can understand. Although I rarely have been watching the coverage live. This was a job for TiVo.

I love that I could record the Olympic coverage and then fast forward through the seemingly endless commercials. While the swimming coverage was going on, I was more apt to watch my recordings just after they were taped so I was still getting to watch the events before I read about it online without seeing it myself. Once the swimming was done, I lagged a bit and was watching something that I had already read about but still wanted to see.

That said, I still plowed through about 12 hours worth of coverage Saturday afternoon following my own real live sports action from The Girl and her real live soccer team, live and in person. Those 12 hours of Bob Costas and company took me only about 2 hours when I weeded out the rowing, wrestling, weight lifting, or water polo--(actually, I watched Water Polo but at the fast forward speed). Last night I finished the closing ceremonies in about 35 minutes. I love my DVR.

I may not have watched every minute of televised coverage of the games, but what I saw was awesome. I won't bore you again by raving about the men's 4x100 freestyle relay team's performance two weeks ago or just how fantastic Micheal Phelps' accomplishment of 8 medals really is in my view, but I don't mind repeating that I will miss watching something that made me feel good, that made me recognize that there is a whole lot of good stuff out in the world all the time--but we don't get coverage of it but every four years or so.

It was such a good feeling during the Olympics to know that anytime I turned on the TV I could hear about the open water swimming competitor that lost her leg in a scooter accident, or the legacy of Eric Liddel who was China's first Olympic champion back in 1924, or the other "behind the scenes" stories from Mary Carillo or Jimmy Roberts.

So, the TV stays off a little more this week. Even my regularly scheduled lay-around-on-the-couch-Sunday-watching-habit involved the DVD of Jane Eyre from PBS' Masterpiece Theater this week. And as much as I enjoy Jane and Mr. Rochester it just isn't the same as Rowdy Gaines calling a Phelps race from the Water Cube in Beijing. Oh well. It is true I will miss all of that. But isn't Vancouver only 18 months away?

Just a Little Teamwork

Last night, between swimming and diving competitions on the Olympics, NBC broadcasted some of the Men's Gymnastics team finals.

The men's teams have 6 guys on them and in this portion of their Olympic competition, the team does rotations on all 6 apparatus: high bar, parallel bars, still rings, floor, vault, and pommel horse. Only three guys can compete on each apparatus and every score counts. None of that 'knock out the top and bottom score and then average all the other guys' work'. No, no. Each score counts and only three guys can do each apparatus.

The USA Men had lower expectation this time around as their two past Olympians, twins Paul and Morgan Hamm, both pulled from the Olympics due to injuries. They had to bring up two of their three allowed alternates--and none of the 6 guys on the team had ever been to an Olympics before.

Last night, not a single one of these guys did a "perfect" routine, but they each did their best. Through 5 rotations, they were just behind the world leaders, Team China, by a little bit.

Then came the pommel horse. Genius Golfer doesn't see why this is in the Olympic competition, but I digress. The first guy on the horse made a pretty ugly mistake, and the second guy made a smaller but still ugly mistake. The last guy, on the last piece of equipment, came in and simply nailed his routine. It was astounding. Fast and furious, to be sure.

That is what I love about the Olympics. Just a little teamwork goes so far. These un-Olympics-experienced guys from the US came together and did their best and the result? The Bronze Medal! When nothing was even really expected from them, that is awesome.

How would it be if every team we were on had that kind of determination? How much more would be accomplished? Wouldn't we all appreciate each other more, if we knew each member of that team was doing their best? Couldn't we cut them some slack when things weren't going so well and maybe even step up our game to help carry the team?

I am a firm believer that the Olympics can inspire and teach. I'm learning and inspired this morning already. And it is only Day 5 from Beijing.

Schmack Talk, Smack Down

The French men's 4x100 meter freestyle relay team said some no nice things about the American team this weekend in the papers. Perhaps the French are just used to saying not nice things, and they figured the Olympics were no different.

Why do teams do that? That Olympics tend to bring out people's best efforts, sometimes even better than they think themselves capable of doing. The American men's relay team certainly had the potential of doing well, even setting a world record. The American men's relay teams have in the past dominated this event. In the last couple of Olympics, not so much.

Having not only their own pressure to do well, but the redemption factor to earn the title back for the American, why would the French mention anything?!

Well, luckily the Americans took the high road and their response to the French remarks (i.e., "We are going to smash the Americans. That is what we came here for...") was the statement they made in the pool. the top five teams beat the previous world record. Five sub-record speed teams! How cool is that?!

You've got to love Jason Lezak, who was coaching himself to the Olympic trials, and as a three time Olympian, held the anchor leg on the relay team. He came from behind and caught the mouthy Frenchman, just out-touching him at the wall for the Americans to win the relay. Not only that, but they shattered the world record, taking 4 seconds off the previous time. In swimming time, that is beyond huge. Four seconds?! You could run a top-fuel drag race in that space. (But not in the pool, of course...)

So, Frenchies, the next time you think about talking schmack, think again. Our world class American teams will show you how to get it done, and you'll be listening to that good 'ole Star Spangled Banner while you stand by on the medals podium. Again.

Mauritania, we are NOT!

As I'm watching the Parade of Nations last night, the announcers tell me that next up is Mauritania (with it's 3 or 4 athletes participating in the Games), who--by the way--had a political coup this week and their nation's government was overthrown, after these athletes had arrived in Beijing. Holy Cow!

We don't really have any idea what political upheaval is, do we? The worse thing we have to worry about is our Presidential election isn't until November and we have to keep hearing about the candidates and their personal slams against each other for another few months. We will have to keep seeing them on the news and in ads with celebrities endorsing them for various reasons that mean nothing to me.

I just finished watching the miniseries HBO produced on John Adams. Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney star as John and Abigail Adams. It was fantastic. A lot harder to watch than the book was to read. Those founding fathers were not politicians, they were statesmen. Their emphasis was not on becoming president, but in leading the nation. I'm not sure we have had a candidate like that, with higher motives, for a very long time.

After a brief discussion with Genius Golfer on this topic last night, he asked me about Ronald Reagan. Maybe Reagan was the last statesman, but since then Reagan has become a touch point for other Republicans--all claiming to be his political descendants. They can't all be what they tell us.

Regardless of which side of the political fence, you sit, we needn't worry that we will experience the kind of changes that Mauritania did this week. We have never had violent exchanges of power. In fact, the worse thing that seems to happen, is three times the outgoing president did not attend the inauguration for the new in-coming president. (John Adams was the first when Jefferson beat him to be the third President of the United States.) But comparatively, that is nothing more than a snub.

We are so blessed to live in this land. To have the opportunity to participate in our elections, in our politics, and even choose to run, if we wish. We really have no idea.

I wish the Mauritanians luck in the Olympics, but I wish them more than luck when they return home. They are going to need it.

Let the Games Begin!

I was originally going to write about something else this morning, but when I opened my homepage and saw the first photos of the Opening Ceremonies for the Summer Olympics, I had to change topics.

As you have read, I have swooned and fawned over Olympics from the past, 1984 in particular, there is something that draws me to the games regardless of which swimmer is doing the 100 meter butterfly, or competing for the gymnastics all-around title, or even the host nation's human rights stance.

There is something that transcends politics and foreign policy when it comes to the Olympics. I cheer for all the athletes, for their countries, for their struggles and challenges. And I celebrate when they do well, or set a personal best. My favorites are the ones that achieve more than they ever thought and still only come in third. They are so thrilled to just win a medal that they must feel like it was gold for their effort.

That said, my favorite athletes, of course, are American. I get a little weepy when Bob Costas and the NBC folks play the John Williams composed Olympic theme song and then tell me the story of the three taekwondo siblings all trying to become Olympic champions, or the story of the 41 year old mother of one who has made her fifth Olympic team and qualified for two swimming events, but chose to give one up to focus on her best chance and give another swimmer a shot at gold too. Or the runner who conquered injuries year in and year out to finally make his first Olympic team at the ripe old age of 30 and is challenging for the world's record. It is worse than Kodak commercials at Christmastime. Pass me the Kleenix.

OK, let's go--all 14 days worth of the "thrill of victory and the agony of defeat". Let me hear the Star Spangled Banner play over and over. Let the NBC evening lineup include all the athlete spotlights I can watch. Let the world's politics stop for 2 weeks and just play--fair, and by the rules. So, the DVR is set and the schedule is posted on the fridge. You'll know where to find me during prime time for the next few weeks. I'm plugging into the world's biggest sporting spectacle: Let the Games Begin!