Rediscovering the Magic of the Games

Being a hardcore Olympics spectator takes some true talent. Yeah, it's tough when you're actually attending the events, something I learned during the Salt Lake Olympics. You have to deal with frigid temperatures, long lines, and Scandinavians who like to show their enthusiasm using cowbells the size of a human head (I only wish, for the sake of my eardrums, that I was joking). But, all that pales in comparison to attempting to watch the Olympics during the hyper-digital era.

I really don't think I'm too demanding when I say that I don't want to know who has won an event before I get the chance to watch it on TV. As satisfying as it is to watch men in tights skate lap after lap, the drama of competition does add a nice touch. Let's just call it the difference between dozing off and actually caring.

At the root of this problem is something we obviously cannot control: geography. The Olympics are happening time zones away, so clearly the results are in before NBC prime time starts. But the callous way in which the internet is handling this simply is not fair. You can't load the main home page for newspapers or even NBC during the day without seeing the results of the day's events flashing in blatantly obvious placement. I tried opening the New York Times Web site while squinting my eyes a couple times before realizing that, really, news is overrated, and I can do without it for a couple weeks.

But, I'm apparently quite alone in that thought, as everyone around me is only half-heartedly invested in watching these games. Aside from the clear deficit in your life if you aren't watching every second (Did you get to see Norwegian Frode Estil fall in the start of the 30k pursuit, only to end up winning silver? I didn't think so.), the lack of communal excitement about these events is saddening, especially because of the contrast between now and my experience in 2002.

Four years ago, I was a lucky girl. I was a senior at a high school in downtown Salt Lake City, just two blocks from the Olympic center and Medal Plaza. Naturally, our school was the top choice for a bus depot and parking lot for said center, meaning we got an unexpected two-week vacation in the middle of February.

Some families took it as a great reason to get as far away from Salt Lake City during the Olympics as was humanly possible, but luckily, mine didn't. Consequently, I danced in the Cultural Olympiad, I volunteered at the press center, and I attended as many events and medal ceremonies as I could. I know I'm usually pretty cynical in this space, but in all seriousness, those were an amazing two weeks.

I've been trying desperately to remember what made those two weeks so wonderful, and all I can come up with is something almost too sappy for me to admit: pride. Yeah, that's right, I was full-on, 100 percent showing off my hometown and national pride. I happened to only attend events won by other countries, and I enjoyed cheering for, basically, everyone, so I wasn't exactly out there in full U.S.A. body paint. But still, watching such a successful games, both in terms of Salt Lake's job as host and the United States' killer medal count, and even being a part of them in a small way (running faxes around the press center), I couldn't help but feel happy to be from Salt Lake, and, realistically, it was probably the most patriotic I've felt.

As the Torino games approached, and the clips from the 2002 games started bombarding us in ads and preview pieces, I was ready to feel that same sense of elation and community. Well, unless I count the fantasy world of NBC where ad after ad presents happy Olympic fans, something's missing. The Olympics-mania I had hoped for is instead turning into a one-woman effort.

I blame this entirely on the aforementioned digital and geographic problems. When you can find out all the results for the day by a quick click of the mouse right after you wake up, it's only natural that your excitement will pretty much equal that small amount of effort.

The idea of bringing people together may be the perennial publicity statement associated with the Olympic games, but, and I know I'm being borderline sappy here, there is something nice about a feverishly divided populace all feeling the same sense of anticipation, all holding the same hope as they watch Bode and Daron fly down a course.

I'm not saying that results shouldn't be posted in real time-obviously that's impossible and simply a stubborn approach to technology. And, it's not like this is the first time this has been an issue: as long as TV and Radio journalists have covered games far away, results have always come here before the presentations. But, it does seem that during these games the general attitude has shifted to the point where the value of suspense has been forgotten completely. And with that, a little of the magic of the games has been lost. Yeah, that's right: I just said 'magic of the games.' Believe me, if you let yourself get caught up just a little, you'll understand what I'm talking about. And maybe you'll want to come join me in watching, waiting, and cheering.

Ciel Hunter is a Columbia College senior majoring in English and comparative literature.