I haven't watched one second of Winter Olympic coverage on TV.
I love sports. I love the passion and human interest that comes with sporting competition. I subscribe to Sports Illustrated and I've received their Olympic preview issue. I flipped through it, read a few passing pages then tossed it aside and looked for something else to dip into. I'm just not into this. I can't push that accelerator to the floor to get my interest revving. What's wrong with me?
I should have seen the warning signs back in August of 2008. The Summer Games in China were in full swing. Michael Phelps was tearing up the record books in the swimming pool while doing his best water-cannon impression. Apart from the odd cursory glance at the images on the front of the newspaper box on the nearest sidewalk, I never would have known the Olympics were even happening. At one point that August, during Olympic mania, my family had travelled for a summer break in Boston. It has become a favourite destination for this crew, as we can sample heavy doses of American history, heritage buildings wrapped around choking American commerce, fresh Atlantic seafood choices and of course, the gladiators with Louisville Sluggers at Fenway Park. Back at the hotel at the end of the long day on our feet, I'd flip on the TV to discover whether or not the Red Sox topped the Rangers that night. One problem for this narrow-minded viewer; I'd have to sit through endless recaps of what some 86 pound runner from Ethiopia achieved in the steeplechase and whether or not the U.S. mens basketball team could achieve their "win gold or nothing" expectations.
In December 2009, the Olympic Torch Relay came through my town. I was a member of the community task force that helped plan and deliever the celebrations. I worked endlessly with VANOC staff for the better part of the year, arranging logistics like road closures, parking, security, stage and tent locations, along with coordinating performers and sponsors. Heck, I even got to hold the torch in my hand. By the time that flaming stick left into that foggy morning, onward to the next location, I have to admit, I was relieved that life could return to normal, whatever that was.
Fast-forward a few months and the torch finally arrived in Vancouver, evidently with the aid of a soaking-wet Wayne Gretzky and a flat-bed truck. (didn't see it). I understand that a "luger" died during a crash on a test run. (didn't see the highlights). Kingston's Jayna Hefford scored six points in a Canadian women's hockey game vs. Slovakia. (couldn't help but stumble upon that one.) However, the remote control sits idle on the coffee table and I find other diversions to occupy my time.
The Olympic Games are a wonderful celebration of national spirit. They represent the pinnacle of individual and team achievement. They stir a simmering pride in not only those who participate but those who watch. I'm just not there yet.
Maybe I'm longing for the days when Wayne Gretzky wasn't such a corporate shill and dazzled fans with his skills on the ice and less so with his ability to advertise for a struggling North American car manufacturer. Maybe I'm stalling to "make time" to sit and watch the endless TV coverage. Maybe I'm soured by the corporate branding that's forced down my throat whenever I turn a corner. I live nowhere near Vancouver, yet every billboard, every bus stop, every blip on the TV, claims to be offering a product that's the "official sponsor the Vancouver Winter Olympic Games." So? Should I now switch to your brand of toilet paper? Should I drink that beer that I'm sure the new Canadian gold-medal winner in moguls enjoyed after his knees regained their spring? Is Jayna Hefford going to pound back a Quarter Pounder tonight? I'm not buying it.
I want to watch. I want to be interested. I love my country and I wish these talented athletes all the success they can achieve. On the other hand, I just can't bring myself to turning my couch into a stationary bobsled while panic-stricken VANOC officials order more snow to be helicoptered in to one of the warmest cities in Canada. I'll go back to biting my tongue now.
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