Thrill of Victory--Agony of Defeat

Dedicated to Luge crash victim Nodar Kumaritashvili

Sports minded I am not, at least I don’t think of myself in that light.  And then, when the Olympics begin and our rig is hooked up to cable service, we somehow tune it in, mostly looking for the ice skating events.  I watch with one eye on the screen and one eye in my current read.  After all of these years of living, I  know and accept that everything in life changes including expectations.

Olympic events have evolved, beyond what I recognize from past years.  Missing;  the simple slalom and the ski jump, gone and obsolete, fallen into disfavor displaced by the extreme sports of today.  Athletes throw themselves down almost vertical slopes, one at a time or 4 abreast, or dance on their skis and snowboards at what seems to be miles above the spectators heads.  Skaters attempt 4 airborne twirls betting on landing gracefully on their blades set for the next step in their complex routines.  Sledding on Bobsleds and Luges reach frightening speeds.  There is no cap to the thrills spectators seek during the events.  

Bring on the young athletes, legs splayed apart in the dancer’s 2nd position, hooked to a snowboard, long hair blowing, (male and female) clad in plaid shirts and blue jeans or snow pants, not the tight body suits or garb featuring feathered hands.  They appear with helmet-covered heads, complete with what appear to be ear wires tucked behind their frog-eyed goggles.  The track starts with a scary vertical drop over a snowy lip, down and then upward toward the sky.  Both of my eyes now leap up to the screen. 

They fly!  They soar!  20 feet or more above the cameras, floating above a tremendous snow-packed ditch called a half pipe.   Not only can they slide up and down the inclines of this half cylinder thing, but they carry acrobatics to the extreme by twirling 3 or 4 times above the edges of the pipe somehow maintaining perfect form and grace.  I confess, both eyes remain focused on the screen, my book fallen onto my lap. 

My mind races, following these flyers as they soar up into the air wanting to know how they dare take on this extreme sport.  Where do they find the chutzpah to spring into space, twirl and land upright.  Stray and intruding thoughts would spoil their concentration.  Do they feel themselves in peril, are they listening to tunes playing through their ear buds, or do they hear the roar of the crowds?

Perhaps they believe they will launch into space, obtain orbit and soar to the outer limits of infinity, forever flying, spinning and feeling an unfettered freedom mounting high on mysterious space breezes and illusive star winds, forgetting the roaring crowds, the judges, videographers, obtaining perfect form and colored medals.  Just busy focusing on a place no single being has ever flown before until some mysterious apex is been reached and the board flings the athlete back to the revered spot on earth, gliding with ease to the finish line.

The camera captures a close up of the face in a broad smile and a shine in the eyes conveying the privilege of  having gained exclusive  knowledge of where infinity may lie or is the smile simply there upon hearing again the earthly sound through the ever present ear wires strung under the strap of the goggles. 

The crowd roars with approval, the gold is won, the secret of flight into space is attained setting new goals, new orbits, new horizons, but no matter what the challenges,  favorite tunes in the ears at all times seem to be a mark of the Vancouver Winter Olympics of 2010.  Brava and bravo to all of the participants.

Ann Carol Goldberg