An Unapologetic Fan
Here, I’ll just say it: I love the Olympics. I just do. I love the Olympics so much that even when we couldn’t afford our own television in the summer of 1984, we rented one for the two weeks of the Los Angeles Olympics.
Whether it’s the winter or summer Olympics, I take delight in noting the dates on my calendar, straight through from the Opening to the Closing Ceremonies. Already in the current Games, I got up at 6am to watch the Opening Ceremonies live and stayed up til midnight watching the men’s bicycle race up Mt. Fuji.
Image credit: India Times Post
I always vainly promise myself to get other things done during the Olympics. But by day two of the delayed Tokyo 2020 Olympics, with some 7,000 hours of programming available, it was already a little crazy. A computer screen was distracting me with event coverage in the background while I multi-tasked. I cannot deny it: I am addicted and cannot turn away.
My Olympic obsession is not partisan. Others focus on medal counts, but that has always seemed nonsensical to me. I don’t care if it’s handball or field hockey or TaeKwonDo. Table tennis. Rhythmic gymnastics. Skateboarding. Doesn’t matter: I’ll happily watch any Olympic competition. It’s so compelling to me, the way people from 200+ nations can come together and, while not necessarily sharing a language, share a sport. I inevitably end up rooting for whoever who is showing the most grit and determination, regardless of nationality. For me, it’s about the athletics, the rising to the occasion, the passion to be part of it all.
Yes, of course there is controversy, shameful history, and more. Who can forget the chilling 1972 massacre of Israeli athletes in Munich? The thought of Larry Nasser’s hands on our gymnast athletes? The boycotts between super-powers, using the Olympics as a wedge? The corporatization and enrichment of people using the Olympic name for personal gain? It’s not perfect. Nothing is. But I am impatient with the search to discredit every move, such as the commentators who were whining that the Tokyo Opening Ceremonies were, in their view, a little lackluster. Sheesh. We, as a planet, are lucky to be there at all.
How odd it feels to see all the “Tokyo 2020" signage and swag. But even as all that evokes a truly awful year, these Olympics are offering a different view, refreshing evidence that here and now, a year late, we’re moving forward. It seems to be a bright spot.
Although I’m mindful that there’s always room for improvement, I prefer to focus on what is good about the Games. I love the stories: of athletes facing impossible odds, of people coming to them from war-torn countries, of moments of grace and good sportsmanship. I love the competition that for the most part demonstrates decency and honesty, dedication to a dream, persistence in the face of adversity, even the potential of unification among nations (if only for a couple of weeks) while much of the world comes together to enjoy this time in common.
I unabashedly admire those who do the work of earning the title of “Olympian.” Their path demands mastery of skills that can take years to hone. Whether or not they depart with a medal around their neck is not the point. What matters is that they did what it took to arrive—some of them from truly challenging circumstances. I find inspiration and hope in witnessing the manifestation of their dreams, every last one of them, even those whose stories aren’t headline news.
Like many kids, I once upon a time had Olympic dreams. My sport: equestrian. I am biased, true, but two unique aspects of equestrian sport are that team partnerships are human/animal, and that males and females (both human and equine) compete on a level playing field. What a splendid blend of elements! But whatever their sport, I wish every Olympic athlete well. I hope their stories continue to inspire others as they do me.
