Mike

Ball

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August 11, 2008

An Olympics Junkie Rejoices: The Five Rings Are Back!

Well, the Olympics are back. Once again it’s time to sit up all night, watching with breathless anticipation, to find out who will ultimately claw their way to the top of the heap and claim the ultimate global bragging rights in Men’s Badminton. This also means we’re just two years away from the 2010 Winter Olympics . . .

And Curling!

I will be the first to admit that I am a total Olympics junkie, with a particularly severe addiction to the sports that I know little or nothing about: Rhythmic Gymnastics, Rowing, Handball (the kind you play with what looks like small dodge ball and a mob of Eastern Europeans).

It’s pretty easy to understand the attraction of some of the sports. What’s not to like about Women’s Beach Volleyball, where you get to see a 6’3” American woman in a bikini hugging a 5’10” American woman in a bikini after slamming the ball down the throat of a 5”11” Japanese woman – in a bikini?

There is also a Men’s Beach Volleyball competition. I assume.

Of course, everybody’s favorite is Gymnastics. The guys are strong beyond comprehension. They are able to perform feats that defy gravity – and any form of common sense. To stretch out before an exercise, a male gymnast will stand, casually chatting with a friend, with his thigh pressed against his ear.

The girls are every bit as amazing, although I find it a little bit disturbing that most of them seem to have simply postponed puberty until after the Games.

I did have a hard time following Sabre Fencing. I was kind of hoping that I would see some Errol Flynn-style leaping about on castle steps and clashing of blades, with flying sparks and sliced tapestries. Instead, each encounter in the fencing competition lasted about a third of a second, with two contestants simultaneously lunging at each other. Then one of them would immediately and for no readily apparent reason let out a victory shout, while the other one would slink away back toward Croatia.

But then I watch Michael Phelps in the water, barely breathing hard after slicing his way through the water to finish a 400-meter race faster than any other human being has ever done it, and I get that. I have two nephews and a niece-in-law who were nationally recognized competitive swimmers, so I know just a little bit about getting to the pool at 5 a.m. every morning throughout childhood and young adulthood.

A few years ago I was the big sweaty half of a world-class Adagio Doubles team. This is a sport that is a lot like pairs figure skating, except it’s done on water skis and we didn’t get flowers and stuffed bears thrown at us after a performance.

Working with several different partners, I was fortunate enough to ski to four top 10 finishes in Division I Show Ski Nationals, a Florida State Championship, an “Indoor World” Championship, a Division II National Championship, and accumulate a pretty fair collection of other trophies. To accomplish these things, my partners and I had to dedicate a serious chunk of our lives to the sport.

We worked hard every day, all year long. We not only practiced our lifts together, we did strength training, studied advanced moves, watched tapes, took dance lessons, worked on choreography and costumes, practiced on the water, and performed or competed at every possible opportunity. Even in our little unknown sport, we had to earn the right to walk onto that stage where we could stand with the best in the world.

So maybe that’s why you can’t tear me away from the sight of a bunch of people rowing kayaks or shooting arrows at targets in the Olympics. I may not know the first thing about kayaks, and in six months you won’t catch me looking for “Archery” in the Weekend Sports Viewing Guide. But I have a pretty good idea what every one of those people went through to get to Beijing. I feel like they’ve earned a few minutes of my time.

And my respect.

Copyright © 2008, Michael Ball. Distributed exclusively by North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.