Day 53

I absolutely love the Olympics. I have since I was a child. I remember the 1988 games very vividly, both summer and winter. It's the Winter Games, though, that have always most captivated me.

I've been told that when I was as little as two, if you put me in front of a television with figure skating on the screen, I'd be entranced. I have been aware of this since the age of four when I went to see Ice Capades. My favorite skaters have been Nancy Kerrigan and Michelle Kwan, and if you ask me why, I'll be happy to explain to you how they both were robbed of gold medals at the Olympics.

Today, when I read of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili's tragic death following a horrific accident in a training run, I cried. His name will be remembered by many for a long, long time... but that is small comfort to those close to him and to any fan of Olympic sports. The danger inherent in luge is one of the things that makes it so exciting to watch, but this was a sobering reminder of how horribly wrong things can go in a sport where you lay on a small sled and speed down a track of ice at 90 mph.

I haven't missed an opening ceremonies in a very long time. The Beijing opening ceremonies where as big as the country hosting those games. Tonight's opening in Vancouver was a stark contrast to that spectacle, and yet no less spectacular. As I watched the Beijing opening ceremonies, I was struck by the vastness, by the number of people. As I watched tonight, I was struck by a sense of modesty, of welcome. China's ceremonies were very keeping with the ways they display national pride, and I would say the same is true of the opening ceremonies tonight in Vancouver.

They kept saying that the goal of the director was to create an intimate setting, and I think this was well achieved. While still grand enough to capture the size of Canada, it was simultaneously representative of the nation's rather small population (in contrast to the US, and to the fact it is the second largest nation in land area). It was like sitting in a large room that is made to feel smaller because of comfortable, oversized furnishings and a huge, welcoming fireplace.

It will be hard to pry me from the television during the next sixteen days. I am captivated by the spirit of the Olympics. I feed on the success of the athletes who work so hard to achieve this dream, and I mourn with those who fail when expected to be victorious. I know the pride that is felt by the athletes who do not go to the Olympics with any expectations other than to do their personal best, and just maybe, in doing so, get a few minutes of recognition for themselves and their countries.

During the Olympics, we get a chance to see sportsmanship, showmanship and sometimes the hubris of athletes. We often see the best of humankind, and fortunately only rarely see the worst. It is easier to forget, while that Olympic flame burns brightly in the sky, that the world is an ugly place, and that humans, to paraphrase Hobbes, are frequently mean, small and brutish.

When countries come together to take their place in Olympic history, we are given the chance to see inside the lives of those who give up so much to pursue their dreams. Considering how few medals are awarded in contrast to how many athletes march during the opening ceremonies, most of them give this up for nothing more than those few seconds they're the focus of the world as they walk in behind their country's proudly waving flag.

The Olympics capture the best of our world. We are given a glimpse into amazing cultures, beautiful landscapes and the lives of those living in  the host nation. We get to feel, as the VANOC CEO John Furlong indicated during his speech tonight, a few moments of the national pride of the host people.

Perhaps, given my affinity for the Games, it is not surprising I studied anthropology as my undergraduate degree. After all, the Olympics are a two week long observation of mankind's highs and lows. I can't wait to experience the amazing moments to follow in the next two weeks.