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| Well,
it's finally over, gone almost as quickly as it arrived. The endless parade
of "touching" Made for TV moments and nations whose sheer existence made
you feel like a dummy for not knowing about them has once again made like
corduroy and disappeared for a couple of years. The precarious marriage of bad Aussie jokes and of countries beating the snot out of each other in the name of community and good-natured competition has left the building for four more years, going off almost exactly as expected. The opening ceremonies were, as always, a spectacle to behold, sure to send shivers up the spine of even the most skeptical viewer. Michael Johnson dominated the events he was supposed to, as did his fleet of foot friend, teammate Maurice Green. The Chinese retained their stranglehold on the diving events, while the US owned 90% of the remaining competitions, far outdistancing the field in total medals and making everyone else look like the Chicago Cubs of amateur sporting. The Aussie fans cheered for everyone (just like a good host should) and Marion Jones got her five medals, so what if they all weren't gold? The US men's gymnastics team continued to look like the inept laughing stock of the tumbling and twirling world that they are, and the Yemeni representation went home again with nary a medal to show for their sporting efforts. But while all of these things were virtual certainties coming into the Games, there were some unbelievable surprises that kept us watching night after night. (And no, I'm not talking about those saccharine-sweet athlete profiles that were the offspring of some lame tear-jerking MadLib. Billy from the former-Czechoslovakia has shown immense fortitude and the heart of a champion for overcoming the freak accident involving a buggy and a runaway emu that killed his donkey and nearly decapitated his sister's little toe. Cue dramatic music and prep your hankies...) And not to come off as some raving ethnocentrist and a poor journalist, callously skewing his column to reflect the triumphs of his homeland yet not those of the rest of the world, but most of these surprises involved the US. (For those of you who won't be satiated until they hear about how badly we screwed up, just hold on Ð you'll get what you're looking for in a bit.) These amateur versions of Yankee Doodle David versus Goliath all started with the shocking defeat of Australia's Susie O'Neill by the upstart American swimmer Misty Hyman. The scenario that was supposed to play out was this: O'Neill would get a roaring ovation from the hometown crowd, jump into the pool, drown the competition in her thunderous wake and then rise out of the pool to another ebullient ovation and her third gold medal in as many tries. This woman was the Queen of the pool; the reigning world and Olympic champion in the women's butterfly, a beloved stateswoman in her home country, and was so dominant in this event that the media had lovingly dubbed her Madame Butterfly. And to make matters worse for the opposition, she was on a roll, having recently broken the world record, previously the oldest of note in the swimming books (Mary Meagher's 19-year old mark was smashed by O'Neill just a few months prior.) Heck, Susie Swims-a-lot was so favored Ð the prospects of her losing so remote -- that Las Vegas bookies were trying to entice bets by giving all upset-takers free poundcakes and vouchers for the next Seigfried and Roy spectacular. In the face of all this, though, the extremely determined (or extremely stupid) Hyman jumped into the pool and had the race of her life, beating her personal best by over two seconds and missing a new world record by just seven hundredths of a second. This newcomer, still Ð ahem Ð wet behind the ears, pushed aside all the pressure, pissed on the Aussie pool parade, and handed O'Neill her first defeat in competition in over six years, her last loss coming in the '94 World Championships in Rome. Well this shocker really seemed to, pardon the pun, spark the US troops into exceeding expectations as they continued to win rather frequently before providing viewers with the sequel to this huge upset almost a week later. |
This one came when the US men's baseball team took on
the perennial dictators of the diamond from our favorite Communist island,
Cuba, for the gold. Going into this match the Cubans hadn't lost in international competition in over a decade. A decade! They had won an amazing 21-straight Olympic matches before finally losing in the first round to the Dutch this year and are so good that they beat Ð no, trolloped Ð the highly paid professionals on the Baltimore Orioles in a two game stand earlier this year. These guys just plain did not lose Ð apparently the notion of being beheaded Ð sorry, "officially relocated" - by fair Fidel for booting a grounder or giving up a game-winning dinger can really motivate a guy to not screw up. And yet here they were in a game against the lovably Lasorda-lead louts, fighting for their lives (literally) in the gold medal game. And would you believe it, the Americans actually pulled it off. They upset the boys from the den of the dictator and, to really rub salt in the wound, they shut them out! I think Fidel might need a bigger cigar cutter to deal with this defeat... This victory was somewhat akin to the 1980 Miracle on Ice when the Americans beat the nasty Russians in the hockey semifinals and would have been a fitting ending to another triumphant showing by our country's athletes. But it wasn't quite over Ð Rulon Gardner hadn't had his say yet. The finale to this triplet of titan toppling came just a few days after the decimation on the diamond and may have been the biggest surprise of all. The scene was the wrestling final between doughy American unknown, Rulon Gardner, and Russian wraith, Alexander Kareline. For every accolade that Rulon was lacking, Kareline had times ten. He was known as the "Toughest Man in the World" in Greco-Roman wrestling. He had won an extraordinary three Olympic golds, 12 European championships, and nine world championships in his career to this point. He was undefeated for over 13 years and had only been scored upon once in the past 10! (For those that don't know, scoring in wrestling is easier than scoring with the town tramp after a couple of drinks. All you have to do is work a takedown or a reversal Ð not all that easy, I guess Ð and you score a point. The last time Kareline was scored on Michael Jackson was still cool and not the punchline to fifty-odd jokes.) This guy even had a trademark move that instilled fear in the hearts of giants, one where he carelessly ripped his opponents off the mat and then tossed them back down, demoralizing the competition and dominating the scoreboard. Yet here comes this unknown man named Gardner, a rather unimpressive, pudgy man who stood up to the intimidation and titanic pressure and chopped the legs out from under the Russian giant, shutting out the aging star 1-0. This was supposed to be Kareline's coronation into the House of Legends; the culmination of an utterly dominating career. Even Olympic head-man Juan Antonio Samaranch was there to add authenticity to the proceedings. But it didn't go off as planned. And while these victories were enough to make any American puff out their chests with pride, the Games weren't completely a walk in the international park for the boys and girls from the Union. Take, for instance, when the farce that is the men's basketball team nearly got their asses and their multi-million dollar egos handed to them by the scrappy Lithuanians, surviving by a meager two points. Or when the men's 4x100 relay team lost to the Aussies in the swimming final, something that hadn't happened in over 25 years. Or when the women's 4x100 relay team won bronze in the track final. Or when the darlings of Atlanta, the women''s soccer team, and their Sportsbra-bearing Brandi Chastain, lost in the finals to the Norwegians. These were all rather big losses or near misses that just go to show why the Olympics are so great Ð9 times out of 10 the US will kick the crap out of the opposition, but even we are infallible. (Cue Chariots of Fire music) On any given day, in any given event, the underdogs can triumph, the unexpected can happen, the giants can be felled. But thankfully not very often. |