It’s now a quadrennial happening: not just the Winter Olympic Games — but their increasing spectator-sport appeal.
Through the first week of the Vancouver Games, NBC reports that more than 160 million Americans – or more than half the country – have watched the Olympics. And I know I’m not the only viewer seduced by a confluence of unlikely sports – from ones I can barely identify, let alone explain — such as biathlon and curling — to the marquee staples of alpine skiing and figure skating. And none of those sleds are named “Rosebud.”
The reasons are multiple – and manifest.
The novelty. Our mass-culture, spectator sports are football, baseball and basketball. With allowances for golf, tennis and soccer. And apologies to NASCAR. Soaring ski-jumpers and acrobatic snowboarders and aerialists are either foreign or fringe. We don’t identify with such participants; we simply watch in wonder. For once, the word “awesome” actually fits.
And because the Games come during basketball season, it provides, frankly, a welcome respite – as well as a societal juxtaposition. From Lindsey Vonn and Shaun White to Apolo Ohno and Shani Davis to Kevin Lysacek and Bode Miller, the athletes are uniformly engaging and well spoken. And seemingly tattoo-challenged behind those cover-all uniforms. And how refreshing to see winners who know the difference between triumphant celebration and look-at-me boorishness.
The nationalism. I still experience a visceral jolt when I hear Al Michaels’ rhetorically ask if we “still believe in miracles?” That’s sports shorthand for the ultimate, unfathomable upset: that of the Soviet Union’s Big Red Hockey Machine by a bunch of amateur Americans in 1980 at Lake Placid. “The Miracle on Ice” is enough to evoke nostalgia for the simpler, geopolitical dynamics of the Cold War.
And while we all want to — and do — appreciate the best in the world, we can’t help rooting for fellow Americans. It makes the viewing that much more compelling. All those Canadians — who mortgage all their emotions on hockey and who shouted “Bleep USA” after the Americans upset Canada last Sunday — would obviously understand.
And by the way, shouldn’t figure skater Evan Lysacek be awarded a second medal, this one for grace under fire – by a fusillade of Russian sour grapes? Major plaudits for how he handled the classless controversy surrounding his gold medal margin over Russian legend-in-the-making Yvgeni Plushenko.
The Ultimate. With the possible exception of hockey (see Cup, Stanley), Winter Olympic events represent the various sports’ ultimate forum. There’s nothing more prized than Olympic gold. The same can’t be said for the Summer Games – where the basketball, soccer, baseball, tennis — and now golf — competitions, for example, are not their sports’ pinnacle events.
The motivation. The aforementioned curling is a prime example. As a hybrid of shuffleboard and billiards, it hardly excites. I mean, could darts, foosball and liar’s poker be looming? But I still find myself looking in on it. That’s because it’s as much about metaphor as medals.
Although the sport is growing, nobody’s getting rich over curling. And, yet, it embodies an Olympic ideal that more glamorous events can’t. It’s not about fame and fortune. It couldn’t be. There are no marketing bonanzas and sponsorship coups awaiting. There’s some local celebrity status, but not enough to obviate the need for a real job.
Curling is what participants do on their own. They do it because they love it, and because it’s doable that they can be among the very best in the world at something – if they are dedicated enough. They obviously are.
The back stories. The up-close-and-personal accounts are interesting and often moving. From the Chicago inner city black kid who grew up to be speed skating gold medalist Shani Davis to Bode Miller, the outrageously talented, bodacious skier who redeemed himself and grew into an Olympic champion.
The Vancouver Games are now in the homestretch. It will be another four years before they resume in Sochi, Russia.
But, hey, next month is “March Madness.” Seems more aptly named than ever.