Ann Killion postcard
The Games’ biggest loss hasn’t come on the field, on the court or in the pool, but in the stands with the absence of spectators.
The empty seats are starting to hurt.
We’ve known for a while that there would be no fans allowed at the Olympics. But what that means is just starting to sink in.
On Sunday, a 22yearold kid who grew up in an apartment building a few miles from the venue he competed in, the son of a Tokyo cab driver, won a gold medal in skateboarding.
The venue should have been packed with Japanese fans cheering Yuto Horigome’s tricks. Rock music was blaring. The boarders swooped up ramps and down rails in the concrete venue. But nobody was there to see it besides us media and the volunteers. Horigome’s dad took a bike
ride in the neighborhood while his son was competing nearby.
When Horigome came into the media venue for his news conference, the dozens of
Japanese volunteers stood and applauded as he walked to the podium. It was a sweet moment — Horigome at least heard some hometown love.
“I was born in Koto City,” Horigome said in Japanese. “I still cannot believe I was competing here.”
When I walked out of the venue’s front gate there was a small group of people waiting, likely in hopes that was the way that Horigome would also exit. There were some little kids waiting there, too.
For the past few days, I’ve seen people standing outside venues, taking pictures with signage in the background. They wave to the buses. They peer through the chain link fences. It’s as close to the Olympics as they can get.
The Olympics are happening in their city. Even though the Games are wildly unpopular with Tokyo residents, they are taking place. Nothing they can do about it. Yet, the people who have been saddled with the construction, the controversy, the debt, the stress, can’t participate.
Parents are bringing their children to venues so they can take a picture, record a little bit of history, experience something that should be so cool and so fun — but isn’t. Not this version.
It’s a shame. And the emptiness is starting to hurt.