Let the Games begin, if they must
Three little words: Citius, Altius, Fortius
For public purposes, an invitation to play nicely with others. In private, an admonition that only superlatives matter. Once again, the Games are upon us. Seventeen days; enough time for spring to fully arrive on the Left Coast. I’m watching the Opening Ceremony. Have been for hours. It takes a long time to welcome all the neighbours over for a play date.
The afternoon had a tragic moment, when the Georgian luge team member lost control at an astonishing 144 km/h and died doing what he loved. Not even in competition. Too early.
But, his death will remain as a punctuation mark on a larger page. After all, this is a world competition.
Odd detail there, brought to the forefront during the parade of nations. Unlike the summer games, where the events might actually be practiced in any jurisdiction, the winter program contains a set of sports that require particular terrain and climate. Obviously, not all borders encompass equal opportunity.
Without pointing fingers, I stand astonished at teams from countries like Bermuda and Algeria, where ice and snow don’t figure in the local weather reports. Laugh, but Jamaica isn’t fielding a bobsled team this time around. The right to represent a given national team is one that is lightly bestowed in some parts of our world.
By the time the Closing Ceremonies arrive, new bragging rights will have been established. A lot of ink, both digital and analog, will have been spread. We’ll have heard the national anthem at least once (thankfully, not the version presented by Nikki Yanofsky some hours back). I will have been overrepresented by politicians, given that the federal, provincial and municipal poobahs are all on site. And Vancouver will have its own version of the Big Owe.
