Olympic Spectacle Blues
In looking back on the Olympic Games from last month, I can’t help but feel a sense of annoyance with the whole affair, despite the fact that I enjoyed many of the performances, particularly on the track. My issue with the Olympics, particularly in this social media era (although the problem existed long before then), is that it has become more spectacle than athletic event. A whole lot of people who don’t know what they’re talking about have a whole lot to say, and very few of them bother to gather enough information to form an informed opinion.
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During the track events, I find myself spending a whole lot of time explaining basic rules to people who never watch track except for one week every fourth year. And people who haven’t been in touch with me for years suddenly message me on Facebook or text me out of the blue to point out how amazing a particular race was. They don’t really care. But they know that I do, so here they come out of the woodwork to dialogue with me. Nothing personal, but I’d rather talk track with trackheads than chatter on about the basics with people who won’t give a darn about track by the end of the week.
The greatest source of frustration for me was the fall-out after the women’s 400 meter dash final, and the controversy surrounding the finish of that race. When I watched the race, I didn’t think anything of the finish. Well, I did, but not in the sense of it being controversial. But more in the sense of it being heroic. Miller had run a courageous race from the start, getting out early, going out hard, putting her body on the line, fully aware that she may or may not have enough gas left in the tank for a strong finish. She knew that if she was going to defeat Allyson Felix, there could be no holding back, no strategizing. So she went for it. From the opening gun.
And it looked like her gamble was paying off for a good 490 meters. That’s when she noticeably tightened up. And we all know that feeling when the legs lock up, when the thighs feel like cement blocks. Right before the finish line, she had a choice: either try to take another step, or just dive/fall across the line. She chose to dive, and her torso crossed the line just a millisecond prior to Felix’s. It was a desperate lunge, not a pre-planned strategem.
When I’m watching the Olympics, or any international track meet, I’m just hoping to see good races – highly competitive races in which the athletes push each other to bring out the best in themselves, in which they push each other to heights previously unknown. I don’t root just for the Americans, because the athletes from other countries have dreams too. And that women’s 400 meter final, to me, represented all that is good about track and field. Athletes at the highest level competing to the best of their abilities. And I saw Miller’s dive as nothing short of heroic. We coaches always say “don’t leave anything on the track,” and Miller didn’t leave anything on the track. She gave absolutely everything she had.
Watching the race on my laptop, in the comfort of my own home, I had no idea that I was watching anything controversial. I had no idea that I had just witnessed a finish, and a result, that many would claim to be unfair. I had no inkling that Miller would be accused of “cheating,” that people would argue that Felix had “earned” the victory because she had run across the finish line instead of diving across it.
But once I checked my social media feeds, as well as the feeds from various media outlets, I quickly realized that other people didn’t view the race the way I had. Track coaches were joking that they should teach their athletes the “dive technique” at the finish line instead of teaching them to lean. Non-track people were claiming that Felix had been robbed of a gold medal, that there should be a penalty for not running across the finish line properly. Both of my brothers texted me (since I’m the resident track expert in the family) expressing their dismay. The first thing I explained to them is that the victory goes to the person who’s torso crosses the line first. It’s not the head, not the arms or a hand, but the torso. They didn’t know that. They thought it was the head. Then they thought it wasn’t cool that I wasn’t defending the American athlete. I explained that it had nothing to do with that. “Whatever you gotta do to get your torso across that line first,” I said, “that’s what you do.
Shaunae Miller’s dive across the line wasn’t considered heroic by everybody.
Well, if what Miller did was legal, they said, then the rules should be changed. My response was, and is, why? Why should the rules be changed? Do you think she dove across the line because that was easier than running across? Do you think that she started a trend, that athletes all across the world are going to start diving across the line, scarring and scraping up their bodies? Do you think she planned to dive from the giddy up? Do you think she got into the blocks thinking, Okay, once I get one step away, I’m gonna just throw my body across the line? Like I said, it was an act of desperation. It was the type of athletic heroism that we have to celebrate as an integral aspect of the Olympic Games.
Most track people I know had no problem with what Miller did, and their logic was the same as mine. It seems to me that most of the “controversy” came from people who don’t follow track, don’t know the rules, don’t understand the sport, and were reacting emotionally. To me it was no different from people who don’t know anything about the hurdles asking if athletes get disqualified for hitting them. At least my brothers were asking questions and trying to educate themselves. It appeared to me that most of the mainstream media and most of the average Joe’s watching in their living rooms weren’t bothering to educate themselves on the sport.
The whole episode profoundly frustrated me, and alienated me. Such an uplifting, inspiring race had been reduced to the level of the news-cycle daily drama. No different than the Trump vs. Hillary stuff. It made me realize just how petty and small-minded our society can be. Besides Miller’s race, two of the biggest “stories” from the Olympics were swimmer Ryan Lochte’s escapades and Gabby Douglass not holding her hand over her heart on the Olympic medal stand. The Douglass situation reminded me of something the great Lee Evans said after winning the gold in the 400 meter dash at the 1968 Games in Mexico City. Many people – blacks in particular – were down on him because he didn’t do any type of protest on the medal stand. They claimed he was wasn’t being enough of an activist, that he should have done something similar to what Tommie Smith and John Carlos had done. What many people didn’t know was that Evans – more so than Smith and much more so than Carlos – had been the leader of the whole movement from the beginning, when the athletes were at first talking about boycotting the Games. Anyway, the Douglass incident reminded me of two things Evans said after hearing that people were disappointed with him. First, and I’m paraphrasing, obviously, “You go out and train for four years, you put your body on the line every day, you win a gold medal, then when you’re on the victory stand, you can protest all you want.” And second, “The reason I was smiling and waving to the crowd on the medal stand is because I was afraid I was gonna get shot. And I figured it would be a little harder on the conscience to shoot a man who was smiling.”
So yeah, if you feel Douglass should have put her hand over her heart, then go out and train, win a gold medal, then you can put your hand over your heart. Stop creating controversy where there is none. Stop putting down athletes who have given their lives, their souls, to their sport. Stop putting down athletes who have sacrificed everything in pursuit of a dream. Stop clamoring for the surface-level stories, the click-bait stories, and appreciate the extraordinary athleticism that is right in front of your eyes.
Personally, I could do without the Olympics. I really could. I’d be plenty glad if there were a World Championship meet every year. The World Championships is a much more pure track meet, free of the glitz and the hype of Olympic years, free of all the uninformed and misinformed zealots who latch on to every controversial story they can find.
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