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Gold medal delay tactics
Enthralled students followed the Olympics instead of their studies

by Patrick Sullivan ’02

For as much as I enjoy playing sports, I am also an equally passionate armchair sports enthusiast. Put me on a comfortable sofa in front of a television, and I’ll watch basketball, golf, baseball, football, tennis, or hockey four hours on end.
Recently, I’ve been watching curling.

Curling?

Even though the Nineteenth Olympic Winter Games have concluded, I still find myself coming home from the library and turning on my television, hoping to catch some figure-skating highlights, or see who won the four-man bobsled. Not surprisingly, my Olympic addiction was far from an abnormality at Princeton; I don’t think it is too much of an exaggeration to say that the vast majority of students watched NBC’s coverage of the Salt Lake games every day, if even just for a short while.
During the 17 days of the Olympics, I didn’t talk with my friends about Michael Jordan and the Wizards or lambaste Duke basketball (a nasty habit of mine). Instead, I found myself engaged in conversations about how Jamie Salé was so attractive, or how U.S. gold medalist Jim Shea was nuts for voluntaril competing in the skeleton.

Two friends and I left the library early one night to watch women’s figure skating. Normally, that would be weird.

When Sarah Hughes won the gold medal, edging out heavily favored teammate Michelle Kwan, my roommates and I went crazy. The girls next door went crazier, however, as evidenced by the screaming we heard in the hallway. During the medal presentation, all of us felt the same excitement as Sarah, and shared the same disappointment as Michelle. Imagine a dorm of mostly seniors, all very aware of impending thesis deadlines, huddled around a television on a Wednesday night to catch all the action and excitement . . . of figure skating.

On an ordinary evening, if I were given the choice to watch NCAA basketball or women’s bobsled, I’d definitely opt for the basketball. For two weeks every four years, obscure sports like short-track speed skating or cross-country biathlon become the focus of the world’s attention. Normally unknown names like Apolo Anton Ohno, Sarah Hughes, and Jim Shea become household heroes, and viewers across the country cheer for athletes they hadn’t heard about yesterday.

My one complaint about the Olympics was that classes weren’t cancelled. I easily could have watched every hour of television coverage, but lectures and that pesky thesis proved too distracting. The Olympics offer so much for television viewers: extraordinary athletes, national pride, pure sportsmanship, soap-opera controversy (I am convinced that NBC commentator Bob Costas was single-handedly trying to restart the Cold War through his coverage of the judging debacle in pairs figure skating) and of course, those shining "Olympic" moments. It's no wonder that NBC’s ratings skyrocketed during their primetime coverage.

From the Princeton perspective, the Olympics provided a common conversation topic amongst students, or at the very least, a great excuse for seven friends to sit in a common room for two hours, glued to coverage of downhill skiing, luge, or ice dancing. During the gold medal men's hockey game between the U.S. and Canada, students sat in front of the big-screen television in Frist Campus Center, cheering, waving flags and chanting "U-S-A." At the game’s conclusion, one particularly proud Princeton Canuck wrapped himself in the Canadian flag.

When short track speed skater Apolo Anton Ohno, we winced. When Jim Shea became a third-generation Olympic champion, we cheered, and when Sarah Hughes surprised even herself with her gold, we shared the amazement. When I watch sports on television, I almost never get those chills down my spine, or that sense of inner pride and patriotism. Sure, when a team I like wins, I’m happy, but it's nothing compared to the feeling I get from watching the Olympics. I found myself pulling for people I’d never heard of, and getting chills when I heard the "Star Spangled Banner" or watched some nameless athlete — even from a different country — finish a race, take off his helmet, and pump his fists in the air out of pure elation.
A friend of mine explained his Olympics-watching obsession quite well.

"Professional athletes get paid to win," he said. "Olympians might get after-the-fact endorsements, but these guys are mostly just amateur athletes who love their sport. It's a relief to watch real athletes compete for medals, not money."
I completely agree. And, while I concede that too much political controversy sometimes shrouds the Olympics — and my personal belief is that the International Olympic Committee’s rigid, archaic bureaucracy is more of a hindrance than a benefit — the Games nonetheless serve as a reminder of the benefits of pure sport. Men and women from around the globe push the limits of their physical and mental strength, all in hope of capturing a gold medal and earning the chance of a lifetime: to stand on a podium of the world-stage, watch your country’s flag unfurl, and listen to your nation’s anthem.

The "Olympic spirit" proved infectious at Princeton, and already, I’m missing my lunches in front of the television, watching the thrills and chills of world-class curling.

Worse, I’ve had to think of a different excuse for leaving the library early.

You can reach Patrick at pas@princeton.edu