Sports Spectators
Curled up contentedly on a couch next to my father on a Saturday afternoon, circa 1970, we watch “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” on ABC’s Wide World of Sports. Prior to the 24/7 feed from dozens of dedicated sports channels around the globe, this program, hosted by the likes of Jim McKay, Howard Cosell, and Frank Gifford, featured a buffet of buff athletes competing in what the producers deemed the most interesting current sporting events. The intro featured footage of the Yugoslavian skier Vinko Bogataj in an infamously apocalyptic crash after going airborne from a ski jump to represent “the agony of defeat.” It turns out he suffered only a broken ankle and a concussion, but viewers winced every time the show opened with this clip.
Curled up alone under a faux-fur fleece-lined blanket on my couch more than 50 years later, I watch a clearly crazy person careen at almost 90 mph down the 4,514-foot Yanqing “Flying Snow Dragon” enduring as much as four Gs of force on what appears to be a black cafeteria tray (like we used to steal to slide down the high school hill in the snow) in baby cobra position. A commentator clarifies that while the thermometer may read negative four degrees, it feels more like negative 22, so it’s vital that the sliders try to stay warm…
Cutting Edges
Clearly, we still stand as transfixed by “the human drama of athletic competition” (another tagline from the Wide World of Sports) as did my dad and I decades ago, and as did ancient spectators in 776 BC at the first Olympic games in Greece. The Tokyo and Beijing Olympics may have suffered from Covid-19 as we all have, but each country’s determination to go ahead with hosting the games despite dire times is a testament to their appeal.
For me, the edge represents a large part of that appeal. In the winter Olympics especially, edges abound. On skates, snowboards, skis, and various sliding accoutrements. But also, on the athletes. I marvel quadrennially most at how competitors push themselves to their edges, not only during the games, but for the four long years between competitions. (“Olympiad” means, after all, every four years).
This assemblage also exists on another edge: that of the political shitstorms sweeping the globe as swiftly as the gulf stream. The participants manage to put political and cultural differences aside in the spirit of robust, friendly competition. They rise above disturbing facts like the host country’s terrible track record on human rights despite touting tolerance in the opening ceremonies, and Russia’s skirting of doping regulations by creating the ROC. However artificial, I appreciate this Kumbaya-like atmosphere that echoes Rodney King’s possibly naïve but hope-inducing words: “why can’t we all get along?”
But edges can be, well, double-edged. Thrilling and scary. Cool and nerve-wracking. The Cambridge English dictionary defines edge as “the outer or farthest part of something.” The brink. It defines edgy as both “nervous,” and “unusual in a way that is fashionable or exciting.” Physical and mental precipices abound as surely as honed equipment edges and skills do in these wintry venues. No doubt both definitions apply on many of those margins: these sportspeople must have abominable abdominal butterflies as they perform on the crests of both halfpipes and human ability. I glow as much from admiration for their exertion as from the hot tea I sip while watching.
Personal Razors’ Edges
The two-week spectacle reminds me that the edge, with appropriate preparation, is a good place to be. The games inspire me to push myself: I may never hurl myself off a 446-foot ledge like the one on the ski jump Zhangjiakou, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an edge to hone. When I teach yoga, I often refer to the edge – the sweet spot in each pose that will vary for everyone– as that place just beyond the comfort zone but just before the pain. That space from which I consistently derive more joy leaving than cowering in. Getting a black belt in Tae Kwon Do as a young mother. Getting an MA in Shakespeare Studies as an old lady. The gestures don’t have to be grand and time consuming. Sometimes, entering a room full of people I don’t know puts me on the precipice. Pushing the edge may be neither fun nor easy, but I have found it infinitely more rewarding than retreat.
Rough Around the Edges
The Olympics may have lost some of their cache because of the overwhelming amount of content competing for eyeballs at the minute. Covid-19 has robbed the venues and participants of face-painted, supportive, cheering fans. But for me, the two weeks of schussing, spinning, and sliding makes for good and meaningful watching, with a flurry of feel-good moments laden with be-better messages.