Olympic Fever

In 1984, the Summer Olympics were held in Los Angeles. I was eleven years old, we lived in Florida, and I swam all the time. Somehow, I got my hands on a lovely, full-color brochure with a schedule of events, and stapled into the center of the brochure was a ticket order form. I spent a ridiculous amount of time, planning out my Olympic schedule. I was going to see some diving, some gymnastics, and every single synchronized swimming event.

That was the beginning of my Olympic obsession. Synchronized swimming was my gateway drug to the entire Olympic experience. Of course, I didn't attend a single event at the 1984 Olympics.

But ever since, I've loved watching every single minute I can, even the middle of the night coverage of obscure events that nobody understands (curling? It's that just sweeping? Ice rink maintenance in the pre-Zamboni days? I don't know.). I cry at the victories, at the heartbreak, at the gratuitously heart-tugging commercials. I am a sucker for all things Olympic.

When the announcement was made that Salt Lake city got the 2002 bid, I was at the party downtown, cheering along like mad. And crying. A few years later, Rich and I bundled up Zach and Abby and made the trek downtown on the night the mascots for the 2002 games were announced. Abby wore this adorable skullcap hat that made her look like a little felon at a prison for round, pink babies. The indoctrination began early.

In 2002, I had three little children and lived in California. The Olympics were coming to my hometown and I wasn't about to miss it. No, I wouldn't see any synchronized swimming, but I wanted to feel the Olympic excitement, watch a medals ceremony or two, maybe catch a hockey game. Even though I totally don't understand hockey. I loaded those three little babies in the car and we drove home. My mom got hockey tickets for my aunt and me (Happy Birthday, Aunt Micki!) and my dad and I watched the medals ceremony when Jimmy Shea won the gold medal in skeleton, just one month after his grandfather, an Olympic gold medalist himself, passed away.

We took the kids down to Olympic village during the first week of the Games, before the locals really showed up, so there were no lines, no crowds, and plenty of parking. Rachel (who wasn't even 18 months old) had to stand still in her puffy pink coat, with her little tiny arms out straight, to get wanded by security, because 9/11 was so fresh in everyone's memories. I've wished a million times I'd gotten a picture of that.

Zach (who was barely four) charmed the socks off people all over the place and ended up with the best pins of the whole family as a result. He got team pins from Lithuania and a couple of other rare pins that I have squirreled away for another Olympic adventure. I had officially infected my children with Olympic fever. I made myself a promise that I would attend, actually attend, every Olympics from then on. Clearly that hasn't worked out.

During law school, the Olympics was just another thing on TV that I couldn't watch much of, but I confess to stealing a few moments away to cuddle with my babies on the couch and watch an event or two.

Like I said, I cry watching this stuff. But this year, it has gotten completely out of control. Last week, before the Opening Ceremony, I cried in my car on the way home just thinking about the Games. I cried when they unveil the medals on the Today show. I cried when heard that Visa commercial with Morgan Freeman when he sas you could win a trip to the Olympics for the rest of your life. And when that luger was killed on the first day, I sobbed.

I don't know why I get so emotional about the Olympics. Maybe because I'm so the opposite of athletic, the whole notion of not only being able to compete, but to be so good at it, is overwhelming to me.

Say what you will about the Opening Ceremony being boring -- when that Georgia team walked out, I couldn't even talk. And I cried when Wayne Gretsky was the True Canadian Hero when he lit the second "unofficial" cauldron. It's just a giant roadshow, kind of hokey, big on heritages we've all but forgotten, and I love every second of it.

So, I'm going to be watching the Games as much as possible. I know work is going to impinge on how much I actually see, but I think I'm totally capable of reviewing documents while ski jumping medals are won in the background, don't you?