People watching said Evan Lysacek choked up when I asked the question.
It was a simple one. Something I often think of when watching these athletes in the Winter Olympics here in Vancouver.
I think of it because I know how hard my kids work to reach a certain level of success.
My 17 year old daughter is in Dalls, Texas right now for a national championship in competitive cheerleading. Her team won it last year, if they do well this year they’ll be on ESPN again and get an invitation to compete in the World Championship in April. For her to reach that level takes serious dedication.
I’m proud when she reminds me that she can’t go to a movie with me because she has to practice. We ask her after each season if she wants to quit, she could get a job, have more time with her friends if she would just give it up. Each year the answer is “no”. It’s worth it to her.
As I sat with Evan, the thought hit me that he must have been asked that question his whole life. “Do you want to quit so you can have a life”?
Me: “What have you given up to win that gold medal”?
Evan: after a brief pause and a catch in his throat—”Everything”.
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Pardon me for veering off the Olympic train for a second, but there was something very Olympic-like about the Saints’ victory in Sunday night’s Super Bowl.
I think, on a general level, we all understand that a championship for a team means a celebration for a city. The Yankees win the World Series; the team parades in downtown Manhattan. The Lakers win the NBA Finals; Los Angeles revels in their glory.
But rarely do we truly place a city’s glory on par with a team’s title. What do we care if New Yorkers get to celebrate another championship, or if Pittsburgh natives get to rejoice in a Stanley Cup? For the most part, the unbiased sports-fan nation glorifies the team that wins the crown, not the region it represents.
Sunday was different.
Of the many defining shots of celebration, none could beat the revelry of Bourbon Street, packed to the brim with Saints fans going wild. It’s a celebration usually reserved for later in the month and Mardi Gras (although, if you’ve ever been to New Orleans in late January or early February, you know Mardi Gras is generally a season-long event anyway). This was exceptional, and this fan base definitely deserved it.
There’s been a lot of talk about how the Saints’ success has uplifted the city, and how their Super Bowl win — and the city’s fervor about it — proves how football is “more than just a game”. I’m a bit ambivalent about these sentiments, for a few reasons: first of all, the Saints’ victory doesn’t — by itself — get any homes rebuilt or neighborhoods rejuvenated. Secondly, a football team’s success shouldn’t validate a city’s self-worth. I mean, if the Saints had lost to the Colts, would that have tarnished New Orleans in any way? If they had never made the playoffs, would that somehow have been a pock mark on the city’s post-Katrina resilience?
But most importantly, the Saints’ success in some ways overshadows the determination and grit of the people of New Orleans, who have withstood the damage and held their ground amidst terrifying circumstances. I had the privilege of going down to the Crescent City last year at this time; I spent a week helping to rebuild a home through the very impressive St. Bernard Project. Amidst the many emotions I felt that week, I couldn’t help but be amazed at how the character and soul of the city still breathed so effervescently through it. That comes straight from the people — the small-town restaurant owners still making po’ boys, the street musicians rocking Canal St. at 4 pm on a Sunday, and the ordinary citizens who keep their smile and their heart through the worst of times.
It’s a testament to a city that will not be broken; in that respect, the Saints are almost as much of a reflection of their city as an inspiration to it.
(Although, let’s be clear, the Saints are absolutely an inspiration. The work of the players and coaches in the community has been absolutely stellar over the past few years; Drew Brees alone deserves all the accolades he gets for his off-field work. It’s truly impressive.)
And that’s why, ultimately, I’m so thrilled that New Orleans gets to celebrate this championship. It’s not because the city somehow needs it, or that the people are somehow validated by it. And it’s certainly not because a Super Bowl victory somehow makes the challenge of rebuilding any easier.
It’s because a city that has suffered through the worst of emotions now gets a chance to experience some of the best. And it’s because, in this rarest of moments, the joy of the championship team seems secondary to the joy of the city that gets to cherish it.
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Less than 2 weeks to go. Matt Pearl and I fly from Atlanta to Dallas then on to Vancouver. The plan is to start shooting stories right away, hit the ground running.
One of us will probably be limping.
Working out at the gym today, running sprints on the basketball court, I twisted but the bottom half of my leg didn’t.
I could equally hear and feel the pop.
Twice over the last 10 or 12 years I’ve torn my ACL, the anterior cruciate ligament. (left leg, right leg, now I think the left again) It acts as a lynch pin to keep your knee together, your leg bone connected to your thigh bone so you can keep moving your hip bone and so on. Surgery, weeks in a knee brace, months of therapy, 6 months to a year before you’re back to normal. No Fun.
Some swelling and pain right now, if memory serves the pain should go away in a week or two and I should be good as gold for The Games…as long as I don’t twist…
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To say we’re “covering the Olympics” is a little off. If I want to see Team USA compete in any sport with my own eyes, I’ll have to buy a ticket.
Local stations aren’t allowed to shoot the actual events, you all get to see that live on tv anyway, so we cover the fringe…and that can be almost as much fun.
Like I said before, I lived just outside Vancouver as a kid. We got 1 tv channel, 2 if the antenna on the roof was blessed in chapel that day. One of the first news stories I remember- Sasquatch runs in front of a school bus full of kids…lots of witnesses, no debate-Bigfoot had to be real.
Well a few days later police caught a regular foot returning his ape costume to a magic shop.
Still, many people are convinced something lives in the millions of unexplored acres of Beautiful British Columbia.
There’s even a Bigfoot research group. Here’s where it gets cool for me…I get to go Sasquatch hunting with them.
Of course it is 2010, the economy and all…I get (have) to be my own photographer on this trip. It’ll be a tough story to shoot but you don’t hear bobsledders complain right?
We won’t earn any medals with our Olympic coverage, but the stories might be as much fun to watch as curling.
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For a couple nights in a row our trash cans were ransacked. Since we had a big St. Bernard that lived on The Ranch, Felix, we all assumed he was the mess maker.
But as a 12 year old I really hoped we were actually being invaded by something scary. Living at the base of the Golden Ears mountain range in Maple Ridge, BC it was pretty likely.
Racoons or Big Foot or Bears oh…you know.
The noise got our attention. 5 or 6 of us kids who lived with our families at Timberline Ranch were in “the little” house when we heard something dropping out of the apple tree. Every mountain kid worth his lack of tv signal knew if you shine a light in the dark and an animal is there, the eyes will flash like little bulbs.
4 eyes, 2 bear cubs eating apples in the branches….how cute. So cute we ran under the tree. “Can we touch one”?
It might have been a growl…A bark…Just the scraping of claws on rocks. I don’t remember the sound, just the sight. 2 big black bears tearing around a corner, heading right for us with Felix trying to get in the way.
Quick survivor lesson now: momma bear doesn’t want you to touch her babies, she probably doesn’t even want you lookin at em.
Can kids who ride horses for exercise outrun bears? Maybe I could I thought but that’s because I was 12. We scrambled to get back in the house. Anita, a year or 2 younger than me fell down. I watched Murray, 18 or so pick her up by the belt loop and toss her towards the door. My 2 sisters dove in. The door slammed shut.
It might have been a bluff. It might be Felix, the dog everyone was mad at when we thought he was the trash thief cut the bears off and saved one of us a good mauling.
I always thought it was cool to be able to say “I’ve been chased by bears in Canada” one of my favorite places on earth.
I get to go home to cover the Olympics.
Just not the way I thought.
More on that later.
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I’m getting sick and tired of everyone being sick and tired.
Well, that’s probably not true; it takes a lot to get me truly annoyed. But I do raise an eyebrow every time the Olympics comes up in conversation and someone responds, “Who cares …”
On a certain level, I understand if people are somewhat nonplussed about the Games. After all, many of the events that get such attention during the Olympics can otherwise only be found on ESPN: The Ocho. And the international symbolism that spurred such intense emotions in the past is rarely found today.
But I’m a big believer in taking things as they are — and the Olympics, as they are, are still pretty darn cool.
Blinded sports fan, you think? An NBC shill promoting the network, you say? Not in the least (I won’t be writing any Jay vs. Conan blogs anytime soon …); mine are simply the words of someone who enjoys competitive sports, finds intrigue in international competition, and appreciates the escapade and extravaganza of this rare event.
Let’s start with the most obvious positive: the sheer thrill of the sports. Yes, the bobsled and snowboarding aren’t exactly household sports — and that’s precisely why they’re so much fun to watch. You and I most likely have never raced on a luge sled, and that only adds to the mystique of how these athletes do what they do. And for the most part, the events are presented very well on TV. Have you seen the camera angles on the skeleton? It’s like they’re running a 24-style spy mission. There’s a nice balance in styles among the events – the grace of figure skating, the speed of the sledding sports, the outdoor elements at play during the ski events, and the physical punishment of ice hockey. And even though the international angst isn’t as deep anymore, I still enjoy the pure fun of following the medal count and rooting for the U.S. to climb the ladder.
And let’s not discount the subtext at play when nations compete against nations. No, it’s not war — and thank goodness, in many cases, the emotions don’t run that hot anymore — but it is a test of both our athletes and our equipment. One of the stories I have already done for this year’s Winter Games deals with the secrecy involved in protecting the technological and stylistic advances in American equipment. Countries are constantly trying to come up with the perfect recipe — in terms of sleds, skis, sticks, and any other piece of equipment at play. On top of that, other countries are always trying to steal each other’s secrets. It’s actually pretty funny — especially because, in talking to the American athletes about it, everyone sheepishly admitted getting caught up in the espionage.
But more important than anything, I use a variation of that oft-quoted Chevy Chase line to describe why I like the Olympics: “They’re the Olympics, and all these other sporting events aren’t.” See, it’s easy to deride the Winter and Summer Games for a variety of reasons, but they’re still the only competition to bring in athletes from more than a hundred nations. They’re still a major point of pride for cities that get to host them (see Atlanta, 1996). And they’re still a spectacle unlike any other in sports. And listen, I LOVE sports. I’m a Hawks season ticket holder who regularly finds himself planted on the couch with a game on the teleivision. The Super Bowl, the World Series, the U.S. Open … these are all great events. But none of them match the sheer scope of the Olympics.
Now I’m not foolish enough to deny that the Olympics are flawed in a variety of ways. But, to be fair, no sport runs without its share of issues. And at the end of the day, the positives far outweigh the negatives; more importantly, the negatives that do exist, for the most part, don’t take away from one’s ability to enjoy the sheer athleticism and competition on display.
So, let’s put down the collective Haterade for a few weeks. It’s time to appreciate and enjoy two weeks of plain ol’ fun. When it comes to the Olympics, I do care — and am proud of it.
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Sometimes life just smiles upon you.
Let’s say, for example, you have just returned from a vacation in Japan — one of the most amazing trips you have ever taken. You are already feeling pretty wonderful – refreshed and rejuvenated – and you arrive to work ready to sift through hundreds of unread e-mails and return to the daily grind. And then, let’s say, about midway through the day, your boss comes up to you and says the following:
“Hey, would you like to cover the Winter Olympics in February?”
Um, what was that?
This is normally the time where I would do somersaults across the newsroom. But when it actually happened, not looking to jump to conclusions, I held up. I asked all the questions that seemed utterly obvious but needed to be asked before I fully embarrassed myself in front of my co-workers … questions like, “You mean, in person?”
“Yes, in person.”
Then I did the somersaults.
That was five months ago, and now our departure date is two weeks away. Ted Hall and I will be in Vancouver bringing you the stories of the athletes, events, hoopla, and entertainment that make up the 2010 Winter Olympics. You can catch our work on the air all day on 11Alive.
And, of course, we’ll be hooking you up online as well.
In the weeks leading up to our departure, and then throughout our days in Vancouver, Ted and I will be blogging here at 11aliveblogs.com. We also plan to frequently update our Twitter accounts (Ted’s is tedhallnews; mine is MattPearlWXIA11), bringing you our up-close photos and thoughts from the whirlwind of the Winter Games. Check back in this space over the next few weeks as we provide a little insight into the work we’ll be doing (and in some cases have already done) and the stories we’ll be telling.
Hopefully, we might just be able to make you smile, the same way life has smiled upon us.
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