Full explanation later, but The Cave's internet connection has been down for nearly a month. Well, not entirely down, but reduced to the modern equivalent of a pair of tin cans and a piece of string. I'd be sending telegrams if Western Union hadn't stopped the service back in January.
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I used to care about the Olympics, honest. I even watched figure skating once every four years, albeit with the semi-detached eye required of every man who still puts on his pants one leg at a time. But this year I just don't seem to care. A bit of bobsled, maybe a couple of figure skaters (but none of the medal contenders), and perhaps a ski run, but then it's nine o'clock and off to Lost or House and off to bed. I could stay up until midnight to find out who wins the (literal) Gold, at least I could try. I'm not actually sure I could make it.
The problem, is that NBC is trying to treat the Olympics as a 'news event.' As if somehow they can build suspense about the outcome of an event that has been over for most of a day and reported about across half the world. But there is no suspense. I went into the final event of women's figure skating with sure knowledge of the result. I didn't particularly care. I wanted to watch the skaters.
Instead of skaters however, I was subjected to a series of overproduced 'human interest' pieces. A sentimental piece on every damn skater so trite that any third rate j-school hack would be ashamed. I never made it to the last group because by eleven-thirty I was fast asleep.
From a programming point of view, it is truly astounding that NBC actually thinks they can keep an audience clear up until midnight, for any event, even big ones like figure skating. If it were a live broadcast, I could at least see the news possibilities, but as a taped production it seems insane. Don't most people work? The last thing I am going to loose sleep over is another story about the skater whose mother needs a kidney transplant.
Not that I'm against kidney transplants. I hope the nice old lady gets hers and lives to a ripe old age. But that is not the point of the Olympics. I don't watch any sport to see how the young man overcomes the tragedy of whatever to succeed in spite of the obstacles the fate puts in his path. If I want that story I have Chariots of Fire somewhere around the house. I watch the Olympics to get my quadrennial fix of athletic competition, and even if I know the outcome I still want to watch.
But I want to watch uninterrupted by constant reminders of how obviously 'touching' everything is. I just want to watch the short track skaters go heat after heat, knowing that half of them won't make it to the next round. There is a visceral competitiveness that is enthralling even if you know who will ultimately prevail. It's like watching a movie when you know the outcome. The drama is not in the outcome, but in the struggle of competition. It's that struggle, the culmination of muscle, mind, luck, and sheer will that enthralls us. For one brief moment the world can be an ice rink, or a bobsled run, or a ski slope. But true to the original spirit of the first games however, it is just as soon all gone, and the real world asserts itself once again.
But I've got to go. The closing ceremony is on and I can hear the gentle strains of Italy's cultural gift to the world- Louis Prima.
