The media watchers are saying that Pyeongchang will be the least-viewed Olympics ever.
That’s discouraging, but understandable. With all that’s on TV in our thousand-channel universe, it’s a wonder people still watch at all.
Compared to something like a kid riding a bicycle off the roof of a house, even downhill skiing can seem pretty tame. For that I feel worst for the athletes. Imagine training 20 years for a single competition, and at that moment a viewer turns the channel to watch dwarves trying on wedding dresses.
Don’t get me wrong. Choice is great, despite what it reveals about the human psyche. And to be fair, the Olympics are stodgy, as they appeal to virtues like dedication, honor, and fair play, notions that seem to become more old-fashioned every day.
My wife Jane and I are still Olympics crazy, a notch below Olympics junkies. We watch for hours. We do additional reading online and in the newspapers. But we typically skip the up-close features of athletes in their hometowns with their saintly supportive families, flipping through photo albums of their childhood glories.
We watch for the same reasons most other folks do: For unscripted moments, for upsets and for the great themes. The Olympics never fail to deliver on these points.
Sure, the presentation is laden with puffery, unapologetic jingoism, and penny-arcade pageantry. Hey, it’s a show. But the other part – the actual competition – is one of the few genuine reality TV shows.
Athletes win and lose and mostly they’re too consumed competing to focus much on being on TV. So we get to see not only the world’s best athletes, but also their raw emotional responses, for better or for worse.
Also, many times you’re watching the high point of a person’s life. How can you not watch?
We couldn’t stop watching replays of Kikkan Randall and Jessie Diggins’ hair’s-breadth victory in cross-country skiing, the first U.S. gold medal in the sport and the first ever for U.S. women. The win was arguably the greatest moment in Alaska women’s sports since 1985, when Libby Riddles mushed into a blizzard to become the first woman winner of the Iditarod Sled Dog Race.
Randall is a 35-year-old mom competing at her fifth Winter Olympics. If that doesn’t make you well up with a little bit of happiness for her and maybe even shed a tear, check to see if you still have a pulse.
Diggins and Randall’s gold medal won’t be a turning point for cross-country skiing. Most people in the United States will always consider skiing without a hill bizarre. The power of the medal will be to inspire young girls for years into the future, just as the only previous U.S. athlete to win a medal in the sport – Bill Koch in 1976 – inspired Diggins.
In sports as in life, inspiration sometimes is the greatest gift we pass on to the next generation.
Jane and I were glued to the women’s hockey final, a triple-overtime battle between Canada and the United States that tipped to the Yanks. A downside came during the medal’s ceremony when Canadian player Jocelyne Larocque refused to don her medal, a violation of Olympic rules.
The dour-faced Canadians were understandably upset at losing the game, but they were clearly outplayed by a U.S. squad that dominated the game’s end. It was disappointing enough that Canada’s players weren’t able to squeeze out a smile on winning an Olympic silver medal, but Lorocque’s fit was inexcusable.
Her behavior was deservedly vilified on social media the following day, including by her own countrymen, and she subsequently apologized.
Asked on NBC to describe her Olympics experience, U.S. downhill skier Lindsey Vonn said her view of the games has matured over the years. Vonn, who runs a foundation dedicated to empowering and supporting young women, told the interviewer, “The Olympics are about unity and sportsmanship so much more than any medal count.”
Bravo to Vonn and to the Olympics.