Sunday, February 07, 2010
Sports, "Hunt's Grunts", Atlanta

Next stop: Olympic glory

 

By Hunt Archbold

Yes, the most romantic holiday of the year is quickly approaching, and there will be much ado concerning romantic love in the coming days. And yet it is the unrequited variety that has been the prevailing experience of this writer. So instead of blabbering on about what clearly remains a personal adult state of confusion, why don’t we focus on a topic close to many a heart—like the Olympics?

Surely the games are close to the heart of Ilya Kovalchuk, who in December told the Russian site sportbox.ru: “Comparing the Olympics gold and the Stanley Cup is hard. Every player treats those victories individually. For me as a Russian, who understands how much the Olympic gold means to the country, the gold medal is more important than the Stanley Cup ring.”

Kovalchuk would be in the minority among current NHL players with that opinion (and that’s not to diminish the idea of representing one’s country, especially with triumphant results). But it’s clear that adorning the white, blue and red sweater of his beloved Russia resonates with him more than any NHL jersey ever could—and that includes Atlanta’s.

Two years ago in Quebec City, it was Kovalchuk who scored the winning overtime goal against Canada in the International Ice Hockey Federation world championship. The victory delivered Russia its first world title in 15 years, and at the time, Thrashers fans witnessing that high wrist shot to the back of the net could close their eyes and visualize the Atlanta captain someday producing the same result here, with Lord Stanley’s finest at stake. But alas, the gig is up.

As The Sunday Paper went to press on Feb. 4, news outlets were reporting that Kovalchuk had been traded to the New Jersey Devils, so that Atlanta could get something in exchange before the soon-to-be unrestricted free agent bolted for greener—as in more lucrative—pastures. It’s a familiar play for Atlanta, which was previously forced to trade superstars Dany Heatley (personal reasons) and Marian Hossa (financial)—both of whom, like Kovy, will be participating in the Vancouver Games that begin on Friday. Meanwhile, the team’s fans are left wondering what could have been.

And what will become of the Winter Olympics? Will you watch? Do you even know who’s participating, or will you just root for America (or whatever country you’re from) and assume that your feelings are inherently correct? If I told you that there are three Americans participating in their fifth Winter Olympics, would you have any idea who they are, much less what sports they participate in? (Luge, nordic combined skiing and alpine skiing.)

The first Olympics I remember watching were the 1976 Winter Games from Innsbruck, Austria. The world’s best downhill skier at the time was Austrian Franz Klammer, and as the 15th and final top-seeded skier in the men’s downhill, the weight of a nation was on his shoulders as he stood in the starting gate. He proceeded to electrify the crowded mountainside and a world television audience with a magnetizing race that teetered consistently on the edge of disaster and yet ended with the gold. If you saw it, you know you’ll never forget it, just as I never have. From that moment, with a little help from Dorothy Hamill, I was hooked on the Olympics.

From those touching stories of underdog triumphs, most notably the now 30-year-old Miracle on Ice, to those great sprinters, skiers, swimmers, skaters, boxers and gymnasts, to the Dream Team, to the world coming to our very own backyard in 1996—every four years, the Olympics have been as emotive and heart-wrenching and dramatic for me as anything in sports. That pompous, heraldic music probably had a part in it, too.

But disappointingly—and maybe this will change with the Vancouver Games—I’ve soured a bit on the Olympics. From the über-promotion during television sweeps month to the endless advertising by official sponsors and the over-use of the word “hero” to describe people who are merely pursuing their own interests (and in some cases are very well compensated and can afford the best coaches, training, etc.), the Olympics have lost their luster.

The International Olympic Committee has championed itself as a beacon of international brotherhood and sportsmanship, but you have to wonder who they think they’re kidding, as scandal has rocked this organization and the Games over the last decade and a half. At least professional sports wear its crass commercialism on its sleeve. And as the city of Vancouver is in danger of discovering (critics have already labeled these “The Bailout Games”), host countries generally waste a lot more tax dollars than the event is worth. The reality is that a permanent home should be found.

Getting off my soapbox, there is a chance I’ll be captivated by the melodramatic human interest story of an athlete I’ve never heard of, and then sit on the edge of my seat cheering her on as she frantically broom-sweeps the ice in front of the curling stone as it approaches the tee. And yes, maybe I’ll not so discreetly root that America wins every event, because after all, I do love my country.

As does Kovalchuk, whose sense of exuberance in representing his Russian homeland is to be respected. He will no doubt represent the Olympic spirit in Vancouver with his effort, struggle and refusal to give up, just as he did during his almost nine years with the Thrashers organization. That is, until last week.

Happy times … and “To say ‘I love you,’ one must first be able to say the ‘I.’’’—Russian-born American writer Any Rand (1905-1982). SP