An Olympic Scrooge learns to love Beijing 2008
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Generally, there is no bigger Olympics Scrooge than yours truly. The Olympics mattered to me as a Cold War soap opera in the 1970s, when the Americans were gritty underdogs against the steroid raging communists.
The Games peaked as national drama when we shocked the Soviets in ice hockey in 1980, when Al Michaels asked, ‘Do you believe in miracles?’ Since then I’ve come to see the event as a for-profit parade of pampered, chemically enhanced professional athletes choreographed by AT&T, Coca-Cola, and Exxon. General Electric owns the whole thing and turns it into a prime-time reality TV show, figuring out what you want to watch and then making you wait until midnight to see it. Generally, I pass.
But then, this weekend, I saw the whole thing through the eyes of a child. My 4-year-old son loves the Olympics. I mean, he is glued to every event that comes on NBC. He is learning the rules of basketball and soccer. He loves the endless variety of sports. He knows that one of the divers is only 14 years old.
He’s amazed at the skills of the female gymnasts. (‘Daddy, girls are tumbling!’) He knows the girls wearing the red uniform with the big white star are the Americans (‘Daddy, that’s our team!’) He is watching every dive in the synchronized diving competition. (‘Daddy, Germans are diving again!’) He recognizes Michael Phelps and knows he is the fastest swimmer. He knows Bob Costas is in a place called China.
He is peppering me with questions and observations. ‘Daddy, green passed it to yellow! You know what’s silly, Daddy? Green team passed it to Yellow!’
He is hanging on every word, watching every scoreboard. He knows the winners get gold medals, and second place gets a silver.
He grabs for the special Olympic section in the Los Angeles Times to pore over the photos. (‘Daddy, is this today’s paper?’) He loves the Olympics.
And what’s not to love? Forget who’s paying for it, forget the story lines NBC is creating, it’s a fascinating pageant of sports. It’s fun to watch.
In two days of TV watching, my son has wiped away my inner Olympic Grinch. I’m right there with him, marveling at the skills this morning of the Brazilian soccer star Cristiane.
We’re looking forward to more Michael Phelps. I can’t wait for track and field. You know the super-cheesy Visa ads narrated by Morgan Freeman, paying tribute to the human spirit as revealed by Olympic competition? We get real quiet when they come on. We like them.
A footnote: The Olympics are popular in our house this week, but they are not dominant. My son has already announced that we will alternate our TV sports viewing between Olympics and his other favorite sporting event on TV, the one-man show he calls ‘Manny.’ Yes, it is fun to watch 14-year-old divers and dashing Brazilian soccer stars and the fastest swimmer on the planet. But when Manny Ramirez adjusts his baggy pants, flips his dreadlocks and grabs a bat, there’s no better show on TV.
-- Peter Viles
Peter is the lead blogger of LA Land
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