Magic moments

Just over two weeks ago I came home one evening to discover that we had completely missed the opening ceremonies of the 2012 Olympics. At first I couldn’t believe we’d forgot about them, and it was especially rotten to hear people talk about it, but then I remembered that I’m getting old and forgetting things is becoming a bit of a habit. Whew! That realization almost slipped by me, as well.

While many people were riveted to their chairs, assuming the role of amateur referee/score judge in sports they may not even know the rules for, I wasn’t one of them this year. I don’t know why, exactly. Summer sports are amongst my favourites. Gymnastics? I used to dream of being able to compete, never mind that the near face-plant was a regular part of my cartwheel. When we broke out the rhythmic-gymnastic ribbons in phys-ed class, I was all over it — twirling, spinning and swishing that ribbon was a hoot. I was just so happy the teacher didn’t ask me to do a cartwheel along with it.

Diving? Love it! And now they’ve added synchronicity to it, two divers acting as each other’s shadow. Too cool for words. I never wanted to do that, though. Jumping off a three-foot high homemade diving plank with my nose plugged, praying that I won’t need to take a breath before cracking the surface does not a diver make.

Speed-walking was always fun to watch because I used to think the athletes simply had to learn to unlock their hips and imitate ducks. Cycling always intrigued me because of the solid wheels and the aerodynamic helmets. Volleyball freaks me out because I cannot imagine how the receiving team can follow the speed of the ball, much less return it. And how do they bump that spiking ball without breaking off their arms? Do they still call it a bump?

The trampoline is fairly new. Perhaps we all should have spent a little more time bouncing around after school and on the weekends. Who knew it was going to be an Olympic sport? We could have been in training and not even known it.

But I did manage to catch a few events this year; enough to realize that as much as some have changed, and as famous as some of the athletes have become, at the end of the process they really just want to make their country and their family proud.

More than once I found myself watching an emotional parent in the stands, wiping away tears of joy for the success, or tears of sadness, not for the loss itself, but for the devastation their child was feeling.

No matter who the athlete is, how well known they are in the world, how decorated they are with accomplishments, when that devastation hits all a parent wants is to take the pain away. That was evident every time the scene played out. And of course, tears were shed when successful young athletes were reunited with their parents after weeks of training in isolation for fear of distraction. If I had to pick between seeing that or watching weightlifting, I’ll take the family reunion.

I also appreciated stumbling upon a segment all about what athletes do after their events are over. While I don’t know how to tweet and really don’t understand Twitter, it was cool to see a tweeted picture from an athlete showing a full tray of fast food, enough to feed a family of four, just for himself as a reward for his medal. I thought that was cute, especially when I visualized the look on his coach’s face when he or she saw that picture as well.

While the closing ceremonies were starstudded and electric, the post-show tribute to the athletes was my favourite part. They are all someone’s child; many are someone’s spouse or parent, and all are heroes for their country. That’s just the way it should be.

In the meantime, I think we should install a trampoline in the backyard. You never know.

Diving? Love it! And now they’ve added

synchronicity to it, two divers acting as each other’s shadow. Too cool for words. I never wanted

to do that, though.