Many of us are drawn to the Olympics because of the real
life drama that plays out as we watch; the Fab Five winning gold while the
Russians crumbled under pressure, The French comeback victory over the
Americans at the 4x100 relay. We cheer
for America, celebrating every gold medal win.
When expectations fall short, we sulk a little, slightly envious of the
competitors place on the podium. After
all, why should we cheer for the opposition, right?
However, a different kind of competition is being played out
at the ExCel Exhibition Centre, where weight lifters compete for their share of
Olympic medals. One by one, competitors
walk through a tunnel, climb a few stairs onto the stage, and attempt their
lift. Throughout each lift, there is one
consistent theme: everyone cheers for everyone.
At first, it’s kind of odd. A
largely English crowd gave Lin Qungfeng of China a standing ovation for his
gold medal lift. After Bakhram Mendibaev
of Uzbekistan failed to lift 135kg on his first two attempts, the crowd gave
such a welcome on his third attempt you would think he was representing the
UK. And when Sibel Simsek of Turkey
failed to lift 133kg, a ring of disappointment swept through the crowd.
After you watch a few lifts, you begin to understand why
things are different here. When a competitors walks out, you see broad
shoulders and melon shaped thighs indicative of hard work and hundreds of hours
of preparation. You are taken through a
mental ritual with them. Parting words
with their coaches, a breath to release nervous energy, chalking up their
hands, greeting the crowd, and then the intense focus that seems to overcome
them in an instant. They meditate over
the bar for a moment, inhale a breath, and attempt the lift. It’s an intensely personal moment, alone on
the stage publicly displaying their successes and failures, and a relationship
between the athletes and the spectators starts to emerge. You see them as something more than just a
representation of a country. A personality emerges; you see their joy, you see
their disappointment. You see how they
respond to adversity, and in every athlete you see the most human of emotions,
hope. In their moment, you want every
athlete to succeed. You want every
competitor to lift their target weight.
And when they do, you want to celebrate with them. But if they fail, you want to applaud the
attempt.
And maybe, that’s what the Olympics should be about. It’s nothing short of a miracle, that despite
all the political turmoil our little planet experiences, we can manage to
gather over 200 countries in one city and peacefully watch their athletes
compete. Why then, should we not see beyond
the simple boundaries of nationhood? After all, the Olympics aren’t meant to celebrate the
successes of a single star country, but rather the limitless boundaries of
human potential.
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