Olympic Gleanings

We kicked off the Olympics by watching an intersquad scrimmage of the UCLA water polo team. That the game took place at the US Olympic Training Center gave it special resonance and luster, which it scarcely needed due to the high level of play and obvious tremendous conditioning of the athletes. The coach spoke to Colorado Water Polo athletes and parents after the game, encouraging the young players to decide on their goals and work hard to pursue them. He said that the UCLA players and the Olympians had all started as youngsters with dreams, just like our kids.

Though the speech was inspiring and motivating, I could not help but think that the Olympians are NOT just like us our or children - they are genetic freaks of the best kind. No normal human can swim as fast as Michael Phelps or Ryan Murphy, or Katie Ledecky. The commentators put their wins down to hard work, a feel for the water, good coaching, technique; all of those factors certainly contribute, but there is a genetic component that can't be overlooked. Many of the athletes have relatives in MLB, or the NFL, or previous Olympics. Not all, certainly, but consistently enough that I know it's a factor.

Even if our kids win the genetic lottery (which in my case is most unlikely!), the sacrifices made to get to the Olympic level are monumental. Gymnasts who forego school, social lives, growth, even puberty, and others who withstand shoulder surgeries, cortisone shots, long periods of pain - they pay a price for their excellence.  And, too, they are not immune from struggle and disappointment, falls from grace that are extra long because their former heights were stratospheric.

Missy Franklin comes to mind when I think of loss. From America's sweetheart to a mere footnote in these games, she's a class act all the way, even while finally giving way to tears in the pool after her best event - where she did not final. She's created no drama, supported all of her teammates to the best of her ability, and quietly tried to mask her pain in smiles of goodwill. As much as we admired here in 2012 for her swimming prowess and joie de vivre, we now admire her for her grace in difficult times.

So when Aden watched yet another medalist go to kiss his mother in the stands, remarking "Sorry, Mom, but I'll never be in the Olympics," I can only respond that my genes aren't sufficient, and we both might be a little grateful. Acknowledging that the heights aren't accessible for mere mortals, we can return to watching with greater appreciation and admiration.