February 2006
Hello. My name is Tom, and I'm an Olympics junky.
Hi Tom.
It's true. Every two years for two weeks I aggressively binge on the Olympics. From the opening ceremonies to the closing and for every available moment in between, I mainline whatever channel is showing anything Olympics-related.
At the same time, I avoid any radio or internet updates during the day that may kill my evening buzz. I like being happily surprised during my nightly (or, on the weekends, all-day) immersions in Olympicschpielen.
Currently, I am halfway through my extended lost weekend. Despite living in a part of the country that receives about as much snowfall as the moon, I have a definite soft spot for the Winter Games. They are the neglected sister to the brilliant and beautiful Summer Olympics.
Perhaps it is because all the events are so completely foreign to me that I gravitate toward them. I can relate to track and field, swimming, cycling, weightlifting and many of the summer ones, but viewing the winter events is like watching strange and unique birds without ever caring what to call them.
For example, curling fascinates me. I have no idea what they are doing, but if it is on, I have to watch it. The same thing happens with ski jumping, skeleton and cross-country skiing. It is only after seeing a perfectly executed triple axel that I realize I am holding my breath. By the end of a 1500-meter speed skating heat, I'm exhausted.
Here on the east coast, coverage lasts until one in the morning, and then NBC replays it. That is almost too cruel for a junky like I am. My alarm goes off between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. Do the math. I'll probably be hallucinating by the closing ceremonies.
I don't care. Skim the Games of the crass commercialism and sanctimonious broadcasters and the clear alpine water of these Olympics -- the personal stories of sacrifice, training and triumph, the competition and sportsmanship -- rushes through.
I'm going to make a pot of coffee around 6:00 p.m. and embrace my zombiehood. After all, it's a big speed skating night.
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Here's my $0.02 on Lindsey Jacobellis: Leave the poor girl alone.
Does anyone remember what it is like to be stoked and 20? She was leading the SBX final, admittedly having a great time and just wanted to share some of her joy with the crowd that was cheering for her.
I was having fun. Snowboarding is fun. I was ahead. I wanted to share my enthusiasm with the crowd. I messed up. Oh well, it happens.
As Scott Simon said on NPR this morning, it's not like he shot his hunting companion full of birdshot or anything.
The sportswriters and armchair analysts who have criticized her race understand only football and NASCAR, where there is no joy, only Win or Lose. They fail to remember that Jacobellis is the SBX world champion and that she just won a silver medal in the freakin' Olympics.
It's a discouraging commentary on this country's popular view of athletic achievement when someone is derided for having fun and winning an Olympic medal at the same time.
As her coach, Peter Foley, said, "If she got caught up in the moment, what are you going to do? If people think that's a big deal, they still miss the point of snowboarding, probably."
They also miss the point of being stoked and 20.
