Remember the Olympics? When they were a much bigger deal?
I recall avidly following the make-or-break melodrama of the Olympic trials and calculating how the U.S. would stack up against the rest of the world in the quadrennial competition. It was a time when a citizenry that lionized individualism collectively morphed into armchair patriots rooting — along with Jim McKay — for the good guys. Members of the family who otherwise loathed sports watched one for the home team. Local pubs turned into ad hoc cheer pits; their patrons basked in reflected Old Glory.
Where have you gone Wilma Rudolph? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.