When I was a boy around 12, I dreamed of being a competitor in the Olympic Games. I wasn't even sure what sport, but that didn't matter. I just wanted to stand on the medal podium with gold draped around my neck, while the national anthem resonated throughout the arena. My heart would swell with pride and tears would stream down my cheeks, as I gazed at Old Glory, knowing that I had honored America — a hero in the eyes of so many desperately in need of more heroes.
The Olympics of my childhood affected me greatly, because a couple of decades ago, the games meant something. They stood for brief unity between often-contentious nations; they stood for allegiance, homage, and pride. The Olympics were for amateur competitors, working vigorously with no pay and little glamour, for nothing more than the honor of representing their countries. The professionals stayed home where they belonged, spending their millions and giving the spotlight to the real athletes, if only for a fortnight. This had meaning to me.
I watched in awe as Team USA, a collection of kids from various states, all chasing the same impossible dream, skated to the most unseemly victory in sports history, defeating a Russian hockey team that the best pros could not humble. I wasn't even a hockey fan, but the accomplishment and the honor that accompanied it inspired me.
In another remarkable Olympiad, a young boxer named Ray Leonard was in a close fight with a fine young Cuban, Adres Aldama, before a relentless Leonard came charging out in round three and pummeled his opponent with a flurry of punches rarely seen in Olympic history. As Aldama stumbled backward, I knew another gold medal would soon hang gracefully against the chest of one of my countrymen. It was like I was there, and I longed to be.
That same year, 14-year-old Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci stole the show with seven perfect 10s and three gold medals. She wasn't American, but she captured my attention, nonetheless, because like Leonard and Team USA, she was truly Olympian in her effort and in her heart.
These examples underscore the majesty, honor and pride that once exemplified the Olympics. These people didn't fight wars or put out fires or cure diseases, but they represented their countries in a different kind of battle — one that brought joy and fancy to viewers' hearts and, perhaps for just a whisper, eased some tension between quarreling nations. This had meaning to me and made me yearn to be an Olympian.
Today's Olympic Games are, in fact, not Olympian, in the definitive sense of the word. There may be hockey in the 2006 games, but there's no Jim Craig, no Mike Eruzione, and no Herb Brooks. In fact, the biggest hockey story this year surrounds Wayne Gretzky and alleged illegal gambling.
Figure skating is still a popular event, but writers covering it prefer to focus on the exit of injured Michelle Kwan, because there is no beauty and elegance of a Dorothy Hamill or a Peggy Fleming.
Is there anyone left to represent us, to fight for gold, to honor America by giving us a new athletic hero?
Is it Bode Miller, the eccentric skier, with the talent of an Olympian, but the attitude of an insolent child? His pre-Olympic comments questioning the value of gold medals were so inflammatory that I found myself wanting to resort to the type of barbarism that I am so ardently against. I wonder if anyone's heart swelled with pride, when Mr. Go Fast, Live Hard, Have Fun finished fifth in the downhill last week. Yet it is he who dons the colors of America at the games, rather than me.
Thirty years have passed since Leonard and Comaneci ignited a desire within me to represent my country at the Olympics. Alas, my dream was never realized – I was a jack of all sports and master of none. Now, as I tune into the games, when basketball and Lost break for commercials, I search in vain for the true Olympians — the competitors who bring majesty and homage, along with strikingly unique talent to the event. The athletes that I would happily call awe-inspiring, even heroic.
Sadly, I don't see them in today's Olympics. I see only overpaid professional athletes, looking for more television face time. I see a reckless, careless disappointment like Bode Miller. I see commercialism and more network money. I see two weeks of ESPN filler.
So, I suppose, yesteryear's Olympians will have to go on living in the heart of a young boy, who once saw true heroes bring hope and joy to him and his countrymen as only real Olympians can.
Mark Barnes is a novelist, regular contributor to fantasy football site 4for4.com, and NFL football radio analyst. He appears weekly on ESPN radio in High Point, NC and on WBAL in Baltimore, MD, where he discusses pro football and fantasy sports. Mark's novel, "The League," is the first-ever published work of fiction with a plot based on the dangers of a multi-million-dollar fantasy football league. Learn more about "The League" and Mark's work at NFLStory.com.
Leave a Comment