My Olympic Spirit
So with the commencement of the Olympics in smoggy Beijing on Friday comes another three weeks of expectations, excitement and waves of patriotism. I suppose this is my obligatory Olympics entry.
And as I write this, I’ve sat through the first morning of competition and witnessed the Opals demolish the Belarusians in the women’s basketball. The irony of spending the next three weeks glued to my couch while the greatest athletes in the world are competing for dreams and glory does not escape me. I might go for a run later on.
The Olympics do a funny to you. You either love it or hate it, an advocate or cynic. I’ve yet to speak to a person whose response has been “I don’t care.”
Me personally? I’m a cynic whose attitude changes just as the athletes are walking out. Being an avid football supporter, I’m of the general belief that the Football World Cup is in-fact a bigger sporting spectacle than the Olympics. I point at the economic downfall that each host city has suffered in the post Olympic months. I cringe when I hear about Ian Thorpe in the news. I forward Olympic volunteers jokes when I get them in my inbox.
But my view changes once every four years. As soon as I see that Aussie flag waving around I get the tingle up my spine and I’m converted. Because despite the fact that I know the Olympics don’t really hold their original values anymore (anyone hear about Russia declaring war on Georgia on the first day of competition?), despite the fact that I know the Olympics are now a massive conglomerate of advertisements and endorsements, the Olympics also bring out the very best in your national identity.
I’m a very mainstream sports viewer, in that I love my football, my cricket, my league, my Aussie rules, and for three Bledisloe Cup games a year, my union. I rarely go out of my way to catch the Women’s Individual Sabre competition (fencing). However, I bet you that before the Olympics are over, I will have watched the fencing in one form or another. Along with the synchronised swimming, the dressage, and even some of the women’s boxing. I say this with confidence because I know that even though I have zero interest in these sports, my passion as an Aussie (and a sports fan) will dictate that I give my dedicated, if limited, support.
Nothing unites a nation like sports (except maybe war… but we’re keeping things light here), and what more appropriate way than the greatest sporting event in the world? I know that for the next few weeks the word “Hero” will be abused, fast food outlets will cash in with “Olympic meal deals,” Stephanie Rice will score a deal as a TV presenter, Kevin Rudd will come out and acknowledge himself as an “Olympic Tragic,” and I’ll get reminded by Telstra that I am (you are, we are) Australian in every ad break. But I’ll still love it and savour every moment.
