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Among Friends |
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| Let the games begin The longer I watch the Olympics, the more it's like standing on the porch staring at the Milky Way on a moonless midnight; it's overwhelming, incomprehensible, otherworldly. Was it 15,000 participants in the opening ceremonies or 150,000? Did it cost $300 million or $300 billion? Remember those moving boxes we thought were computerized but turned out to be synchronized human beings? I can't even drink coffee and talk on the phone at the same time, so I would definitely flunk a "being a box" audition. Should we crown American swimmer Michael Phelps king of the world for his record-setting gold-medal wins? He has a perfectly normal looking mother, the sort who says, "eat your breakfast" and "pick up your socks," yet he performs superhuman feats. It's unusual for world records not to fall as competitors swim, vault, bike and volley ever faster. The pool is deeper, wetsuits slicker, beach-volleyball bikinis skimpier. Every Olympic games is more over the top than the preceding one, pointing the way to our global future in technology, popular culture and physical endurance. And yet, the human touch is everywhere -- Chinese athletes high-five each other, mothers cry, team members hug in encouragement or consolation. This Olympics is the ultimate reality show, where fireworks rival meteor showers, a national hero walks on air and a 9-year-old China doll must lip-synch the national anthem because she can't carry a tune but is, in the words of a Chinese government spokesman, "flawless in image." With something for everyone from Surinam to Slovenia, the games make us gasp at the spectacle and cry at the minutiae. This two-week banquet of visual delicacies is my excuse to become a couch potato, put my chores on hold and push back deadlines. I cheer for my team but am also happy for other winners, knowing that everybody who got there had to do it on the basis of personal performance. And despite the excessive nationalism, especially NBC's coverage of Americans, the games offer a chance for world leaders to practice face-to-face diplomacy. In President George W. Bush's interview with NBC anchor Bob Costas, he segued quickly from sports to Russia's invasion of Georgia, making it clear he'd used the Olympics as an informal setting for frank conversations with Chinese officials and Russian leader Vladimir Putin. Two days later, an event that might otherwise have slipped quickly from the headlines ended, at least temporarily, with a Russian ceasefire. What never changes at the Olympics are interviewer questions: "How did you do it? How does it feel?" It's reassuring to know that all of us who can't swim a lap, hit a ball or stick a dismount qualify to be highly paid journalists in Beijing. If it's the flashy gimmicks and hyped razzle-dazzle that make the Olympics so much fun to watch, it's still the individuals we'll remember when the torch is out. "I have cancer. It doesn't have me," American swimmer Eric Shanteau told the world, looking clear-eyed into the camera. Diagnosed with testicular cancer shortly before he flew to China, he will return home to Atlanta for surgery now that his competition is over. But Shanteau said he wouldn't be alone as he begins his medical odyssey. "My team has been there every minute for me, pulling me up when I'm down, helping me stay focused and strong. I know the swim team will be supportive well beyond these games." So will all of us who know his story. |
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