Issue date: 2/15/06 Section: Editorial/Opinion

There we sat, my roommate and I, captivated by the speed and precision with which the Olympic skier careened down the hill, slicing back and forth, sailing through the air, pushing toward the finish.

Though we had been yapping about this event or that for the last hour or so, we now sat silent, jointly willing our guy to qualify for the next round.

We knew he had been a few tenths behind the leader at the last split, and I found myself mentally calculating his chances of cracking the top three and moving on.

But when he sped through the finish line, spraying snow in a graceful skyward arc, we were anything but silent. Throwing our hands in the air and blurting expletives, we turned away from the TV. He had fallen short.

As my disappointment faded, I began to wonder why I cared so much about this guy and his plight for the gold.

For one thing, while I'll sit and watch a football game if it involves having a few beers, I've never really found myself caring on a personal level about any professional athlete. And for another, I really didn't know a thing about this guy or his career.

The first thought that came to mind was the fact that the skier was Bode Miller, a guy who is just as famous for his cocky mouth and drinking habits as he is for his
athleticism.

And while the fact that Miller was spotted out at the bar the night before the race garnered a few laughs among my roommates and me, the connection I felt with that race ran a lot deeper.

The fact is, the Olympics and the athletes who compete in them provide us, time after time, with a brand of entertainment that professional athletes often fail to supply, piquing our interest in a way that appeals to some of our basic values as a society.

Part of it is the fact that you can watch baseball or football almost every day. It's pretty rare to watch a guy take a sled down a treacherous course at 68 mph or to see someone soar through the air for hundreds of feet on skis.

But the appeal of the Olympics is much deeper than that - it's an appeal that taps into our national pride and respect for true
dedication.

Now when I say national pride, I don't mean I feel some sort of connection with the people who are still boycotting France. No matter what Bill O'Reilly tells me, my fries and my toast are still French.

But the Olympics do provide an opportunity to take pride, win or lose, in the athletes and the country they represent. I don't know anything about that American speed skater who just thrashed past China, but I want him to overtake Denmark too. Shaun White is a name that never surfaced on my radar until yesterday, but as he clinches the leading position in his second qualifying run for the half-pipe competition, I feel like I'm a part of it.

Then there's the level of genuine dedication these athletes seem to exhibit - a result of the fact that they are free of many of the ulterior motives many professional athletes tend to harbor.

Sure, there are those athletes who seem to be in it for "the love of the game," to quote one of three Kevin Costner movies I ever made it through, but there are other motivating factors in professional sports, the main one being money.

While some Olympic athletes land endorsement deals after they win the gold, you don't decide you want to be an Olympian to get rich and famous. You do it to satisfy an undying desire to prove yourself, to be declared the best in a sport you have an undying passion for - and that's something that resonates deeply with all of us.

Olympians, in short, are true personifications of what competition is all about, representing our nation on the world stage with true determination and integrity.

In these ways, Olympians are so much more than professional athletes, who often regress and become money-hungry entertainers. We feel in awe of the feats they accomplish, yet simultaneously connected with them, because they feel like real people, untainted by the lures of fame and fortune.

At least, that's the way it feels from the couch, for what it's worth.

Brian Reisinger is a junior print journalism major and editorial
editor of The Spectator. Reising Issues is a weekly column that appears every Thursday.

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