MY OLYMPIC LOVE AFFAIR

The Olympics ended last night in Turin, Italy and as I was watching the closing ceremonies, several thoughts went through my head. This is a lot of clowns. Wow, Avril Lavigne has gotten hot. Did they say Ricky Martin is up next? Ricky Martin? Seriously? And through all of it there was one I kept coming back to.

I love the Winter Olympics.

I love the events. I love the adrenaline rush of watching speed skaters run the short course for scant seconds. I love watching ski jumpers hang in the air for what seems like forever. Who wakes up one day and simply says, "hey, I think I'm going to strap some skis on and go flying through the air for the length of a football field or so." How do you train for that? Is there a ball pit you land in the first couple of times? I love the bobsled. The sprint, the entry and taking the curves as the clock ticks along. I love that clock and the fine people at Omega that bring it to us. I love how entire nations can be enthralled by a couple of people with brooms clearing the way for a big stone.

I love the biathlon. I mean I Love the biathlon. I love the beauty and the strength of pair’s figure skating. The women may only weigh 50 pounds carrying two bags of 20 pound cement, but the men are still holding them in the air, with One Hand, On Ice. If you can't be impressed by that, I feel sorry for you. I love the cross-country pursuit. I remember my dad not wanting to watch when it started and by the end sitting in the same room yelling, not cheering mind you but outright yelling, for Katerina Neumannova to push just a little bit harder as Kristina Smigun of Estonia crept past her to win by less than 2 seconds.

"I love that clock and the fine people at Omega that bring it to us."

I love that the entire nation of Japan is going to be celebrating Shizuka Arakawa and her gold medal in figure skating. She won Japan’s first skating gold and the only medal Japan saw all Olympics. They’re eating medal shaped donuts in Japan in honor of her. I love that Mongolia still sends athletes to the games though they've never won anything, ever. The first Mongolian winter Olympians just showed up in 1964 with their skis looking to compete without ever filling out an application. Just showed up in Innsbruck, Austria. You'd think if you were going to travel all the way across Asia you'd make sure you were invited. I love Mongolia even more than when I started this paragraph. I love that people from tiny towns in New England compete in the same games as the crown prince of Monaco. I love that the crown prince of anywhere competes in the Olympics.

I love seeing the potential for humanity. I love thinking that if the world came together more often than every four years and put as much effort into feeding the hungry and healing the sick as they do in ski jumping or speed skating and if they spent as much money on education and housing as they do on opening and closing ceremonies how amazing this world would be. How great this planet would be. I love thinking if the love and brotherhood of the Olympics were able to multiply after the games were gone how quickly peace would come to the world.

That's what I was thinking about last night.

But seriously, Ricky Martin? He's not even Italian!