I love the Olympics. A column by Peter Burke.
I love the Olympics.
The winter games are slippery and slushy — which means, in my estimation, the summer Olympics are truly what the ancient Greeks envisioned when they held the first Olympic Games more than 2,000 years ago.
Simply imagining chiseled Greeks (think the epic 2007 film “300”) in a footrace or throwing a javelin (“10,000 B.C.”) is incredible in itself.
While I was growing up in Felton, my parents decided it would be best for us kids not to have a TV in the house.
Instead of playing “Mario Bros.” (yes, the original), my brother and I floated down the San Lorenzo River on blazing summer days. We pedaled our bikes all around town and hit small rocks with a beat-up baseball bat down a hill behind our house.
All that outdoor activity halted for one month every four years. It was because (you guessed it) the Olympics were on television.
For a reason I had trouble comprehending, my parents would arrange to borrow a TV from a friend and purchase a set of bunny ears that sat on the black box like antennae protruding from E.T.
On the day the opening ceremonies rolled around, the whole family would sit down in front of the tube in anticipation, waiting through Alberia … Argentina … Greece ... Jordan … South Africa, all the while my mom commenting on how beautiful the uniforms and flags were, until finally the U’s strolled out and the long line of smiling athletes in red, white and blue jumpsuits flashed onto the screen.
At my young age, I thought it was boring (let’s get to the high dive already!), but I now realize these athletes walked in harmony with every other country — each carrying their national identity behind a flag, but also sharing the experience of gathering with the best athletes in the largest arena in the world.
The Summer Olympic opening ceremonies are a microcosm of the globe, a phenomenon that lasts one evening every four years.
Over the next weeks, the games played out, and instead of enjoying the sunshine, I was usually glued to the TV with butterflies in my stomach, urging each U.S. athlete on. When athletes made the final push across the finish line to win a gold medal for the U.S., it was as if they were winning a gold medal for me.
It was there in my living room that I learned to love the United States of America.
It was through the athletes who embodied excellence, teamwork and sacrifice that I learned that the United States was something to be proud of, compared with the rest of the world.
At the same time, I learned that the rest of the world is a lot like us. Each athlete, despite his or her color, or uniform color, was just another person striving for excellence. It was something I could relate to. It was something I loved, and it is was a better picture of the world than what I read in the papers or heard on the radio.
I was always happiest when the U.S. won, but for that month, I was lost in the competition, the emotion and the sportsmanship of every event.
On Aug. 8, this year’s opening ceremony will take place in Beijing. Sit down in your living room, tune out “American Idol” and tune into the world.
It’s the Olympics.
Sports editor Peter Burke can be reached at
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or by calling 438-2500.
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