I did not watch any professional sports growing up aside from the Superbowl at the Meeks' house, down the hill. I spent more time running around myself than watching sports on TV and I only played Little League for two years as I didn't really enjoy the heated rivalry that it all seemed to be about. I played soccer and basketball in high school but again, this was more to just be part of a team rather than a passionate attachment to the sports. Likewise, I have never followed a team of any of the mainstream professional sports, nor cared who won or lost. The Olympics, on the other hand, always managed to get my attention. Both summer and winter I would watch and while routing for the US, I loved the stories of all the athletes and could easily be compelled by a good one. Who didn't pull for the Jamaican bobsled team?
However, I have always had a certain fondness for the Winter Olympics that started back during the the ones at Lake Placid, NY back in 1980. I remember being awed by the luge, bobsled and the downhill. I enjoyed the artistry of the figure skating and the good old fashion excitement of the speed skating and cross country skiing races. And then there was that hockey game with the Soviets. While I didn't understand the political and nationalistic overtones, I did know an exciting game when I saw it and remember being swept up in the fervor.
This may have been partly due to growing up in NY where we had awesome winters and a great sledding path from our house down the Meeks'. When the road was snow-covered we would walk to the top of the hill and fly down the 3/4 mile slope, day or night while hoping the snowplow wouldn't show. There were days growing up that the whole neighborhood would be out on the road. We would make run after run, head in for PP&J and hot cocoa, giving our soaked gloves just enough time to heat by the wood burning stove, before heading back out for another few hours. I am not just speaking of my childhood here, we did this three years ago (the last time I was home in Garrison and there was snow on the ground). Dad used to take us skiing a lot, as well,which I always enjoyed, despite generally going home with a good bruise on either butt cheek.
Watching the games during the last few days (and every time I watch them) I am nostalgically transported back to the games at Lake Placid. I get caught up in the excitement and cheer for the US when one of our athletes win a medal. I watch the award ceremonies and am moved by the emotion and symbolism of the National Anthem and the raising of the flag. But, as mentioned, I do not hold out for the US alone. Jessica and I routed for the 41 year old ski jumper from Japan the other night, based on age alone. I am inspired in my weight loss and exercise by watching athletes how have been driven and inspired by those who came before them.
There is something about the Olympics that transcends professional sports. It isn't about money, although winning a gold medal pretty much guarantees one some great endorsements. It's about putting yourself out there, holding nothing back and throwing caution to the wind (which is often in your face at multiple miles an hour). It's about fair play and sportsmanship. Just this morning I was inspired, not by an athlete but by the Canadian cross country skiing coach who, after witnessing a ski break, jumped the fence and brought a new ski to one of the Russian skiers so he could finish the race. That is what sport should be. That is the embodiment of the Olympics for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment