Sports, Politics, and Figure Skating
by Prue
This one, obviously, was inspired by the '06 Winter Olympics. I'm embarrassed to say that my Olympics-related rants haven't changed much in substance since then.
Having been asked numerous times in the last week by my frustrated and bored husband why I insist on watching the Winter Olympics (otherwise known as the “Boring Olympics” or the “Olympics with all the Non-Sports”), I have come to the conclusion that it has nothing to do with enjoying the sports themselves. After all, it’s only every four years that most of us show any interest at all in America’s best downhill skier or bobsledding hopes. Instead, I believe it is the comfort and nostalgia—the sameness—of the whole spectacle. The same clichés, the same flashbacks of old performances and puff pieces about struggling Russians or young Americans who are the new “rebels” of their sport. (Incidentally, really, how low is the bar set for rebellion when one can be a “rebellious” male figure skater? “Damn you, coach, I don’t care what the national figure skating body says. My dying swan routine reflects my vision, and that vision does not include triple axels!” You want to challenge our preconceptions about male figure skating? Fine. How about you start by wearing something without mesh and sequins?)
And then there’s the opening and closing ceremonies. When did they all become like giant Cirque du Soleil extravaganzas, loosely held together by some vaguely topical theme (“passion and sport”; “unity through sport”; but never “pseudo-intellectual bombast through sport”). And of course, there’s a few token emblems of national identity sprinkled in so that we can all remember that some foreign city is laying out oodles of cash to stage this mess. At least the national identity pieces (“And now, the symbolic twirling of the flags—a tradition that goes back centuries”) have some element of interest and relevance. As opposed to the endless surreal circus act that always comprises the “creative” portion of the program. (“The inline skaters, dressed all in red with flaming helmets, symbolize passion.” To heck with Pavarotti and a centuries-old tradition in art, music, and design. We have inline skaters with flames shooting out of their heads. Seriously, how did Americans get fooled into believing that Europe is the bastion of art and sophistication when they come up with stuff that the gaudiest Vegas producer would think was a bit over-the top? Though, to be fair, I have very similar complaints about American sports-based entertainment displays as well. I’d be perfectly happy if the Superbowl halftime show featured high school marching bands. And then I wouldn’t have to deal with the one person who won’t change the channel at halftime in the misguided belief that the halftime show is going to be really great this year. And could we please just impose an international ban on the Salute to the Children of the World, Because the Children are the Future? Every time I see a bunch of costumed urchins waving streamers frolic around a stage, I want to gouge my eyes out and dive through a plate glass window.) Even the announcers seem to read from the same script every time: Use sad voice while remembering Sarajevo; Recount semi-humorous fact about obscure athlete from a tropical country (“The 2-man bobsled team from Burkina-Faso sold their own blood to pay for the ticket here.”); Gush about North and South Korean athletes walking into the stadium together as though all it takes to overcomes decades of conflict, deception, and murderous totalitarianism is for 2 speed skaters to walk along a track next to each other; and, of course, mention every ten seconds that the Olympics are about, “sport, not politics.” Use a smug, condescending tone if possible.
Ah yes, sports not politics. Give me a break. Not only has the Olympics always been about politics, but without politics it would be empty, meaningless, and very, very dull. Jesse Owens didn’t just win a few track races. He was a rebuke to Nazi Germany and their concept of Aryan superiority. And the Miracle on Ice isn’t called one of the greatest sports moments of all time because the US was an underdog in 1980 or because it was such a good game. It’s the political dimension that gave it depth and meaning. There’s a reason that few people remember that the US hockey team actually played Finland, not the USSR for the gold medal that year—it was more than a game, and it meant something to defeat the Soviet Union. Admit it, ever since the collapse of the USSR, the Olympics haven’t been quite the same. Without the background of competing social philosophies, it is difficult to get a real rooting interest in some of the events. Yes, you still root for the home team, but the lack of a proper villain really takes the edge off. Like watching a movie where Superman battles the evil forces of . . . tooth decay. The zest for the contest isn’t really there. Sure, there’s always the French. But France lacks the gravitas to be a proper nemesis. How much antagonism can you really work up against someone named “Jean-Claude”? And half the time, they don’t even show the French athlete. If you want to be a purist, you can root against China, based on the whole Communism and Totalitarianism are Bad theory, but let’s face it, the magic is really gone.
No matter how much posturing is going on about “peace” and “unity” and “true sportsmanship,” it’s really all about the politics.