Does Anyone Care about the Winter Olympics?

[moondog22]

I have not not watched any of it yet,myself.

[LVJimmy]

I will only watch hockey, and that is mainly because none of the games are on TV this season unless you have the Season Pass or OLN.

[savage1]

I only care to know when they will be over.

[bwade210]

I have been watching it but I am really looking forward to hockey starting! The skating where they race and the down hill skiing are cool too!

[Tinman1960]

The Only Thing Worth Watching Is The Hockey

[john lennon]

I cant think of one reason to watch any of it. Curling? Figure Skating? Even the Hockey games are not worth watching because most of them are so one sided.

[10DimeBry]

what are the olympics???


Signed,

JC

[Spearit]

This comes as no surprise to me- The Olympics are the ultimate in competion and anything fixed will be sorted out within 24 hours such as 2002 -Jamie Sele and David Pellatre's figure skating- french judge was disqualified and the pair recieved a gold medal 24 hours after the event)- I enjoyed seeing her within that 24 hours in the Athletes Village. She is gorgeous and I got a nice picture of her, the bunny rabblit from David (Valentines Day) being held in her hands. She received the gold medal and if you look on her site- she has been modeling and skating- non-competively now.

I worked on a 2-time breast cancer survivor that barely made it in the bob sled competion at 51st in the world (Top 50 were allowed in Olympics). Two Canadians gave up their chance to compete to let her go instead. They asked her to take the ribbon off her sled indicating her will to fight cancer- No problem she painted it on. She competed and when asked about the next Olympics- stated she would continue to compete for a spot- its what keeps me alive!

I could go on an tell you that each person has a unique story and that the dreams of these folks is what you are watching not the money - not the egos that you are currently into with American Sports.

Another picture on my wall is Armin Zoggler in the Super G Downhill that was on his 3rd try to win gold- having previously won a bronze then a silver in the previous 2 Olympics.

Again on my wall from the 1996 Olympics - you will see a sports illustrated picture of a rider fallen off of her horse because of a high land jump to low water (Town and Country Jump) in Conyers outside of Atlanta. She broke 2 ribs and a collarbone and got back on her horse and rode more jumps to a gold medal. You don't see this in our sports. The next picture you see is that i am standing next to her with an IV pole.

So fellows - you are missing the best of the best- the highest peaks and falls in human accomplishment- the spirit of overcoming all odds in the face of overwhelming competition and don't forget luck- the emotions of the pre-event, the event- and after the event- the testing for drugs that would eliminate half of the sporting community in America.

Guys- Its your attitudes about the games - shows you just don't get out much- can't appreciate what is real and unreal.

[Spearit]

There have been tens of thousands of memorable Olympic athletic performances over the past century, but few have epitomized the spirit of the Olympic and human ideal the way that a 20-year-old Afghani runner did on a miserable day in 1996.


He came from a country that most of us in America knew little about at that time. But, he came just the same. Abdul Baser Wasiqi, a slender, slight marathon runner, was determined to make his mark in the Centennial Olympic Games of 1996, but I doubt that he could have ever imagined the way his day would end on Sunday, August 4th of that year.


It was oppressive in Atlanta on the final day of the Summer Olympiad. I know, because my wife and I were there for the closing ceremonies that evening. The temperature was almost bearable, but the humidity made it difficult to even breathe, let alone move around. "Hot" doesn't even begin to do it justice. But that morning, Abdul Wasiqi set out along with 122 other runners to conquer the grueling marathon course. And he knew in his heart that he never had a chance to win.


This young Afghani student was no slouch, no slacker. He'd run a 2-hour and 33-minute marathon in Frankfurt, Germany, and had hoped to be in contention at the Atlanta Games. But two weeks prior to August 4th, he tore a calf muscle, and he hadn't even been able to run since sustaining his injury.


Wasiqi shouldn't have even started the marathon that Sunday morning, but he hadn't traveled half way around the world to sit and watch others compete in his race without him. "I am taught," he would say later in the day, "that this is important Olympic idea, to finish, to complete race if you possibly can...and I knew I can."


Displaying incredible determination and fortitude, this young kid from Afghanistan put on bib number 1002 and started the race.


It took countless individual acts of courage for the multitude of fans to continue attending the Atlanta Games after the infamous pipe bomb exploded in Centennial Olympic Park, but it took still greater courage for the athletes to continue competing in the Olympiad. None of us had yet gone through that infamous day of September 11, still more than five years into the future, and we had little experience dealing with domestic terrorism. We fans were apprehensive, but we were determined not to wilt in the face of unknown dangers. And of course, all of the marathoners exhibited bravery as they set out that morning, but none more so than Wasiqi.


By the midway point of the marathon, the lone representative of Afghanistan was 20 minutes behind the pack. Only he will ever know the pain he felt as he continued to run.


As the race wore on, Wasiqi fell further and further behind, eventually even losing sight of everyone else in the competition. Eleven other runners dropped out, but not Wasiqi. He persevered, and pressed on.


Wasiqi's pace slowed, and eventually, he stopped running altogether. But he never stopped moving forward, never stopped racing. After all, you don't have to necessarily move quickly to actually be competing. He walked a good bit of the way, agonizing in pain with his badly-torn muscle, and occasionally he would jog when he could, mostly down the few hills on the course.


Abdul Wasiqi was now in 111th place. Runner number 110 had already completed the course and had finished (well more than an hour ahead of the Afghani) but still, Wasiqi pressed on. Exhausted, he staggered more than he jogged, stumbled more than he walked. But he continued to follow the blue line painted in the street, and was more determined than ever to finish his brutal competition.


Two hours after the winner of the marathon had crossed the finish line, Wasiqi was at last in sight of Olympic Stadium. But he had no idea that preparations were already underway inside for that evening's closing ceremony. There was much to be done, and swarms of volunteers and staffers were crawling all over the stadium, making ready for the festivities.


The track had been covered as part of the preparation, as everyone assumed that the marathon had officially concluded. But the army of volunteers hadn't counted on the determination and tenacity of the lone runner from Afghanistan, and they had presumed that he'd dropped out of the race like so many others.


As Wasiqi continued stumbling, falling, and staggering toward the stadium, suddenly, word began to spread among the workers: There was an Olympian approaching. He needed a finish line, a destination point, a place to end his monumental struggle.


Hasty plans were formulated to send the Afghani to a nearby practice track, where he could finish his lengthy, anguish-stricken journey in a most undignified and inappropriate manner. But the marathon volunteers were adamant. Wasiqi had earned the privilege of finishing in the stadium like the 110 athletes who preceded him. They would settle for nothing less.


In a rare display of common sense, the ACOG officials did the right thing: They abandoned the rerouting plans and pulled the tarp from the track. If Wasiqi could make it just a little further, he would at least have the dignity of concluding his ordeal at the finish line in Olympic Stadium.


At last, Wasiqi entered the south end of the stadium and prepared for the final two laps around the track. There were no crowds, no fans -- only the volunteers and a few officials, along with a marching band practicing for their evening performance. But Wasiqi was at last nearing the finish line, more determined than ever to complete his race.


In honor of this last runner's endurance, some of the volunteers fashioned a white finish-line tape with "Atlanta '96" in large black letters and held it across the line. With his last bit of energy, Wasiqi actually managed to jog through the tape, attempting to smile before he collapsed and was carted off by medical officials.


He was the last athlete to finish the last event in the Centennial Olympic Games. His time, of 4 hours, 24 minutes, and 17 seconds set a new record for the slowest Olympic marathon ever, and perhaps an Olympic endurance record for courage, too. Wasiqi was dead last -- and probably very nearly dead -- but he had finished.


The few remaining reporters who witnessed the conclusion of the marathon had one obvious question: Why had this skinny kid done this? What was he trying to prove?


About ninety minutes after he finished his race, once he was finally released by the doctors, Wasiqi explained in broken English.


"I am Baser Wasiqi, and I am from Kabul. I represent my country to the world...to see... that Afghanistan is living, has not died, after 16 years...of war."


"It is not important to be first, second or 20th," he continued. "It is important to come here and finish."


As he continued his recovery, Wasiqi explained further. He had lost one set of grandparents in the fighting in Afghanistan, plus two uncles, and all semblance of a normal life. Danger was everywhere in his hometown, and it wasn't even safe for him to train. "I only run in Kabul," he stated, "on street, because when...run outside in [the country] too dangerous. Maybe comes rocket, sometimes snipers...sometimes, what you say...mines?"


This was no ordinary runner, no ordinary Olympian. This was truly a man with a mission, a young man determined to prove to the world that his homeland could still produce a world-class athlete.


He spoke longingly of a perfect world, one without hatred. One filled with peace. "We are not different," Wasiqi said simply. "Not black and white, not Muslim and Christian. We are all people in Atlanta."


"I want...come...Sydney," he said. "I will try to do better for my country, so the world can see how we can do. But this is my first Olympics and I am 20 years old. The future is mine."


Wasiqi eventually recovered from his injury, and even gained a bit of notoriety. He has since studied in Germany, has lived in Chicago, and continues to train and to learn and to educate himself.


Wasiqi was not permitted to compete in the Sydney Games, but he is optimistic that the removal of the Taliban from power in his homeland will prompt the International Olympic Committee to once again allow Afghani athletes to take part in the Games. Wasiqi trains for Athens in 2004, and has high hopes. "That," he says, "is my dream."


Regardless of whether or not Wasiqi ever attends another Olympiad, number 1002 displayed courage and determination that few of us could ever duplicate. Before and after that miserable, memorable day in 1996, no Olympian ever stood taller than did Wasiqi as he staggered across his finish line.


As he set out that morning, Wasiqi knew that he couldn't possibly win a medal, but he knew in his heart that he could still be a winner. And in only 4 hours, 24 minutes, and 17 seconds, he definitively made his point, and proved beyond any doubt that his is the heart of a champion.

[Spearit]

SALT LAKE CITY 2002-- Another picture on the wall is of Jim Shea and myself.

Jim Shea Jr. (pictured, right) of the United States had his grandfather's funeral card tucked inside his helmet for inspiration today, and it inspired him enough to win the men's skeleton at the Winter Olympics. His grandfather was with him, every inch of the way.

Grandfather Jack Shea, a two-time speed skating gold medalist at the 1932 Olympics, died just last month in a car accident. His son, Jim Shea Sr., competed in cross country in the 1964 Games.

"I definitely felt him here today," Jim Shea Jr. said of his grandfather. "I definitely felt him at the opening ceremony. He has a lot of friends here. I think he had some unfinished business before he went up to heaven, and I think now he can go."

The third-generation Olympian edged defending world champion Martin Rettl of Austria by .05 of a second to win the gold medal.

World Cup champion Gregor Staehli of Switzerland finished third.

A group of around 15 friends and family members gathered at the Adirondack Steak and Seafood restaurant to watch the run live on television, but they resorted to the Internet updates when the on-air coverage failed.

"Jimmy winning the gold means everything to his friends, his family, all his supporters," friend Kristen Moore said. "Because everyone's been with him for many years."

The win was inspiration for Shea's 8-year-old nephew, Willie Kane, who wants to be an Olympic speed skater.

"He won it," Kane said. "I'm so proud of him."

Before Shea Sr. left for Salt Lake, he put a picture of his son in the window of his town store. Wednesday, someone put the word "gold" next to it.

[Spearit]

"You're not going to play for me if you don't put out."
-- Mets manager Willie Randolph

and to think you bet on guys that don't even try or have emotional issues or warrants for arrest or going up into the stands to fight fans. Now you are seeing gambling by people in sports. All sports have a problem but none are cleared more decisively than the Olympics and none would display apathy or an unwillingness to participate less than 110 %.

[The Lovedoc]

Will the Jamaican bobsled team be there this year??

[Spearit]

No only one competitor from Jamaica- this Olympics. I did meet the Jamaican Bobsled members in Park City in 2002. Ya mon is mostly what I heard.

[garth]

I do enjoy watching the Olympics. I enjoy the summer games probably more than the Winter, maybe because I was a mediocre track and field athlete in my youth. But I'm with spearit on this one..it's compelling to watch athletes who've poured their all into training for this often one-time shot. Anton Ono spent his entire life the last several years in Colorado Springs focusing on preparing for Salt Lake City and now Turin. And it was all finished in one moment last night when he made a decision to push it to the max in the qualifying heat instead of just doing what was necessary to qualify.

[Lsufan]

I'm watching Women's Curling on USA Network cause it's just like Shuffle Board, but on ice.

Signed,

Spark