It's Time Again for the Summer Games

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When I started writing this blog, I envisioned writing about sports all year, but it has focused primarily on football, boxing and horse racing with other sports tossed in from time to time. And most of my writing on this blog gets done during football season.

I enjoy watching other sports between football seasons, but I don't always feel compelled to write about them.

As always, I am looking forward to the start of football season, now only about four weeks away, but the Summer Olympics will begin tomorrow, and I am looking forward to that, too. It brings back memories of my childhood — when my family would gather in the living room every night for two weeks to share the Olympic experience via TV. We always got to see many exciting, dramatic moments; in between, we got to take tours of faraway places. All without ever having to leave our living room (and without having to pay so much as a dime for it, either, back in those pre–cable and pre–satellite days — but that's a topic for another time).

My mother has been deceased for more than 20 years, but my father is still living, and I look forward to sharing some of those experiences with him over the next two weeks.

The experience has never been the same for me without Mom, though. She loved watching the Olympics. She was totally absorbed in the drama.

She made a production of it when my brother and I were small. That wasn't unusual, though. She always liked to decorate the house with the appropriate holiday theme — you know, red, white and blue for the Fourth of July, pumpkins for Halloween, turkeys for Thanksgiving, all that stuff.

Mom was very creative, anyway. Speaking of Halloween, Mom used to make my Halloween costumes — and my brother's. She was good at it, too.

Something like the Olympics was perfect for her. In addition to the iconic Olympic rings, Mom could work in things that connected to wherever the Olympics were being held. I think she preferred it when they were held somewhere of which she knew little or nothing — it was like giving an artist a blank canvas — and that wasn't easy because my parents did a lot of traveling when they were young. My father did his Ph.D. work in Scotland, then my parents spent five years as missionaries in Africa. When they returned to the U.S., they kind of took the long way home, traveling through Europe before finally leaving for the United States.

I was with them when they returned to the U.S., having been born about a year earlier. When I was a teenager, my father got a kick out of telling me that I visited two dozen countries before I was 2 years old, then he would ask, "Do you remember that?"

Sure, Dad.

I've seen pictures of myself at different stops we made along the way, including a couple of places where the Summer Games had been held in the past. As an adult, I have visited some American cities where past Summer Games have been held. I have even visited Athens, the ancient cradle of the Olympics. But I've never been to a city that was hosting the Games when I was there.

That isn't an item for my "bucket list." As a matter of fact, I don't really have a bucket list.

If I did, I guess going to the Kentucky Derby would be on it. Or maybe the Super Bowl (when the Packers were playing in it).

In the meantime, I'll enjoy the Games from Rio.

A Silent Protest in Mexico City

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If there was anything that could be said without hesitation about 1968, it would be that it was a year of protests.

The nation had already seen riots in every major city after the assassination of Martin Luther King, clashes in the streets between protestors and police during the Democratic convention in Chicago and a protest at the Miss America pageant in Atlantic City — and those were merely the most prominent. There were countless smaller scale protests throughout the year.

Thus, it really wasn't a surprise when a protest — albeit a silent one — occurred during the Summer Olympics in Mexico City. At least, it shouldn't have been a surprise. Folks were still outraged, though.

There were others who applauded the gesture — and that is what it was, really. A gesture. Not a demonstration. Not a riot.

It was like everything else in 1968. It had a polarizing effect.

On this day in 1968, two black athletes from the United States raised their fists during the playing of the national anthem at the medal ceremony for the 200–meter race. Little is remembered about that race, but much was made at the time of the behavior of two of the athletes during the ceremony.

Gold medalist Tommie Smith raised his right fist, and bronze medalist John Carlos raised his left. The silver medalist, Peter Norman of Australia, did not raise his fist, but he wore a human rights badge on his jacket as did the other two.

At the time, there was much talk of Smith and Carlos' "black power salute," but Smith later insisted in his autobiography that it was actually a "human rights salute."

Originally, the salute was intended to be delivered with Smith and Carlos wearing black gloves, but Carlos left his in the Olympic Village. Norman was the one who suggested that Carlos wear Smith's left–handed glove — and that is the reason why the athletes raised opposite fists.

All three stood in solidarity with each other. When Norman died seven years ago, Smith and Carlos were pallbearers at his funeral.

In 1968, neither probably expected to be alive too much longer. They each received death threats.

For his part, Smith saw nothing negative in what they had done. "We were just human beings who saw a need to bring attention to the inequality in our country," he told a documentary maker. "There was nothing but a raised fist in the air and a bowed head, acknowledging the American flag — not symbolizing a hatred for it."

Murder in Munich

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When the Summer Olympic Games opened in Munich 40 years ago today, its motto was "the Happy Games."

Germany — which was divided into East and West in 1972 — was hosting its first Olympics since Nazi Germany hosted the 1936 Games in Berlin. West Germany was eager to provide a contrasting image to the world, reassuring all who watched that the Germany of 1972 was not the Germany of 1936. It was a place where people of all races and religions could come and compete peacefully.

More than 7,000 athletes from 121 nations participated in those Summer Games, and there were, as always, memorable moments.

• American swimmer Mark Spitz won seven gold medals, setting a standard that stood for more than 35 years.

• Soviet gymnast Olga Korbut captured the hearts of viewers around the world — as well as a few medals.

• America's basketball team lost the gold medal to the Soviets in a controversial finish. The Americans refused to accept the silver medal, which is still in Switzerland.

But the 1972 Olympic Games are not really remembered for any of those things. They are remembered mostly for acts of unbelievable barbarism and cruelty.

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The image that emerged from the 1972 Games was not one of joy and optimism. It was more accurately summed up in a photograph by Kurt Strumpf of the Associated Press showing an Arab terrorist — a member of a group calling itself "Black September" — wearing a ski mask at the living quarters of the Israeli athletes.

The members of Black September broke into the Olympic Village on Sept. 5, 1972, and took 11 Israeli hostages. Two resisted and were killed on the spot; the rest were executed later.

A West German police officer and five terrorists were killed as well.

Initially, Olympic events were suspended, but then the International Olympic Committee's president declared, "The Games must go on!"

And so they did.

But the atmosphere was different. There was no longer a joyful feeling of brotherhood. Back here in the United States, it seemed that people were watching with their collective breath held and their fingers crossed, just hoping to finish the Games without anyone else being hurt or killed.

And it was with a sense of relief — and a collective release of held breath — that the world witnessed the comparatively peaceful conclusion of the 1972 Summer Olympics.

Fortunately, the Olympics have not been disrupted by violence — just politics — in the four decades since.

But, sadly, the threat has not diminished.

I don't know what the answer is.

We can continue to pretend that nothing like that can possibly happen again — until it does.

Or greater steps can be taken to truly promote the concepts of brotherhood and friendly competition.

That may be nearly impossible to achieve, given the vast differences and ancient animosities between some cultures. The Hatfields and McCoys had nothing some of these disputes.

But it may be the only plausible goal. Terrorism in the 20th century was bad enough with automatic weapons, but terrorism in the 21st century might involve nuclear weapons — the so–called "dirty bombs".

Still largely theoretical, these bombs wouldn't be as efficient as conventional nuclear weapons, but they could be capable of contaminating everything within a certain range of ground zero with high doses of radioactive material.

The detonation of such a bomb certainly would get the world's attention — and that is what terrorists crave.

They can also achieve attention through an invitation to negotiate, which may not be preferable, but it usually involves a lot less violence.

The time may be coming when the officials of the Olympics have to decide how they will continue to pursue their own goals while co–existing with those who wish to do them harm.

Dream Fulfilled

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In two days, the 2012 Summer Olympics will begin, and most sports fans will turn their attention to London for two weeks.

But it is worth remembering that 20 years ago today, America's professional "Dream Team" basketball squad made its debut at the Summer Olympics in Barcelona.

The 1992 Summer Games are remembered for many reasons:

• They were the last Summer Olympics to be held in the same year as the Winter Olympics.
• For the first time in more than 30 years, South Africa was allowed to compete.
• For the first time in nearly 30 years, Germany competed as a united country.
• The countries that had formed the Soviet Union until the year before were allowed to compete as a Unified Team.
  
  Under that banner, they won more medals than any other country.

And it was the first time that pro basketball players were allowed to compete; the United States formed its team from the very best the NBA had — Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson.

The 1988 Olympic squad had been quite talented, too, but all the players were college players, and they finished third. Hopes were high in America in 1992, higher than they had been in, perhaps, 20 years — ever since the United States lost a controversial gold–medal game to the Soviet Union at the 1972 Games and refused to accept the silver medal.

For 20 years, that loss to the Soviets had gnawed at the American psyche. Prior to that day, the United States had not lost an Olympic basketball game since the sport was added to Olympic competition in 1936. The Americans had practically sailed through their first eight games, but they found themselves trailing the Russians at halftime and struggling in the final minutes.

With three seconds showing on the clock, the Americans were fouled and a player was awarded two free throws. He made the first and was in the process of shooting the second when the buzzer sounded; the Soviets had called a timeout. The player continued with his shot and made it, giving the Americans a one–point lead.

Under the rules that existed at the time, the ball was live, but play was stopped when the Soviets insisted they had called a timeout. There was some commotion at the scorers' table, play resumed and, eventually, the Soviets scored and won the game. The timeout and the ensuing sequence of events was a sore spot that never completely healed.

Even when the U.S. hockey team beat the mighty Soviet team in the 1980 Winter Games, the loss by the 1972 basketball team lingered and festered.

The Dream Team avenged the 1972 defeat and the disappointing 1988 finish in a big way — they went undefeated at Barcelona, winning every game by an average margin of 44 points. The Americans beat the Croatians twice, including in the gold–medal game, and Croatia did manage to hold the United States to its two lowest winning margins — 32 and 33 points.

The Americans' most lopsided victory came in the opener, a 116–48 win over Angola. The United States never scored fewer than 103 points, and its opposition never scored more than 85. And neither happened in the same game.

The Dream Team was kind of anticlimactic, though.

I mean, with all that talent, all that star power, it was practically regarded as a foregone conclusion that the U.S. basketball team would win the gold medal — and that none of the games would be close.

It all went as expected, too. There was no real suspense, no real drama. Only a diehard basketball fan could probably tell you who the Americans defeated in the gold–medal game.

But, for a true sports enthusiast, the absence of even a hint of uncertainty about the eventual outcomes, rendered the games mildly interesting. The only real issues to be settled were which player(s) would lead the team in scoring and rebounds.

Few championship games in any sport, amateur or professional, have been as lopsided as the U.S.'s game with Croatia. The U.S. did trail Croatia — briefly — in the first half, but that was about as much suspense as there was in any of the Dream Team's games.

When it was over, Sports Illustrated suggested that the Dream Team had been the most dominant team ever assembled in any sport.

I doubt that anyone argued the point.

The 1936 Berlin Olympics Revisited

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It was 75 years ago today that the Summer Olympics opened in Berlin.

The Nazis had seized power a few years earlier. World War II had not yet begun, but the antisemitism that controlled the thoughts and actions of Germany's leaders was already in place, and those leaders were eager to show Aryan supremacy to the world — as beneficiaries of an Olympic bid that was awarded before they came to power.

The propaganda potential for the Summer Games may never have been higher.

Even though the Nazis had not risen to power when the Olympic bid was awarded, many nations, including the United States, considered boycotting the Games rather than appear to be endorsing the Nazi regime.

But the Berlin Olympics would not be remembered for Aryan triumphs. Those Summer Games are remembered for the triumphs of a black man — Jesse Owens — which is ironic because the legally sanctioned racial discrimination in Germany was against Jews, especially European Jews. Segregation based on skin color was still the law of the land in much of the United States.

As a matter of fact, in Berlin, Owens was able to move about more freely than he could in America. He could eat in restaurants, drink in bars, travel around the city in public transportation without encountering the problems he would face in his homeland.

It was an environment that was manufactured for the occasion.

Aware that the world would be watching, Germany undertook a massive effort to "clean up" Berlin and temporarily removed all traces of its policies against Jews — until the Games were over.

Thus, what was seen was not real. But there were some lasting innovations that came to the Olympics as a result of the Berlin Games.

Foremost, I suppose, was the relay of the Olympic torch from Athens. Many people believe — mistakenly — that the torch relay dates back to the first of the modern Games near the end of the 19th century.

In fact, though, it is a tradition that began in 1936.

Much was made of the fact that Adolf Hitler did not congratulate Owens on any of his victories in the 1936 Summer Games — and Owens started winning gold medals almost immediately.

He won four of them in all — two in sprints, one in a relay and one in the long jump.

There was talk that Hitler snubbed Owens and refused to acknowledge his triumphs, allegedly because his victories in the Olympics challenged Nazi theories of racial superiority.

But, while there is no doubt the Nazis were cruel, sadistic supremacists, that tale about Hitler snubbing Owens may have been mostly propaganda.

Owens himself contradicted those reports. "When I passed the chancellor, he arose, waved his hand at me, and I waved back at him," Owens said.

Owens also said that, if anyone snubbed him, it was American President Franklin Roosevelt, not Hitler. "The president didn't even send me a telegram," he said.

It was true that Hitler didn't publicly congratulate Owens — but that was how he handled all medalists, including the ones from Germany, after Opening Day — in keeping with International Olympic Committee regulations.

There seems to be no doubt that Hitler was rooting for his Aryan athletes, hoping they would validate his theories of racial supremacy, but he maintained the kind of outward neutrality that the IOC expected from the host nation.

Supposedly, Hitler did shake Owens' hand in private, and a photograph captured the moment. Owens, it is said, carried the photo in his wallet.

Based on Owens' own testimony, as well as accounts from others, there seems to be little mystery to me surrounding Hitler's treatment of Owens. A more enduring mystery may be one that Mhari Saito is trying to unravel for NPR.

Saito writes that the German Olympic Committee gave each gold medal winner an oak sapling. The United States' athletes won 24 gold medals in the Berlin Games, and four of them belonged to Owens. Consequently, he received four oak saplings from the Germans. Saito is trying to track them down.

"One of Owens' trees towers over Rhodes High School in Cleveland, where he trained," writes Saito. "There is no plaque marking it, but track coach Tyrone Owens [a distant relative] says it has long been a source of pride."

The fates of the other three oak trees are less certain.

"Some say one died," Saito writes. "Another tree was said to be planted at the Cleveland home of Jesse Owens' mother, but it fell when the house came down in the 1960s."

What happened to the fourth tree? Owens, who died in 1980, said on camera in a 1966 documentary about his return to Berlin that one of the trees had been planted on All–American Row at Ohio State. Only one problem with that, Saito reports — there is no oak on All–American Row.

In fact, Saito writes, Ohio State has no record of Owens planting a tree on the campus. Considering the attention his participation in the Berlin Games received, you'd think there would at least be an article about such a planting in the OSU student newspaper.

Well, Owens may have been mostly right. Saito says there is an oak near OSU's library. "And arborists determined it is the same species, age and size as the famous oak in Cleveland," Saito writes.

But it is undocumented so now there is a great tree DNA hunt on that is intended to prove whether the oak near the library could be one of Owens' oaks.

Beyond all that, it is known that the 1936 Games were groundbreaking and had a lasting influence on media coverage of sports.

Television was still many years away from becoming fixtures in American homes, but the 1936 Olympics, nevertheless, were the first to be televised live. The coverage was extremely modest compared to what modern viewers associate with the Olympics, but, in 1936, more than 70 hours was provided to special viewing rooms in Berlin and Potsdam.

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Hitler's favorite filmmaker, Leni Riefenstahl, was chosen to document the Games. Known as a pioneer in filmmaking, Riefenstahl introduced many techniques that are standard in sports coverage today.

She was particularly known for the diving sequence in her film on the Olympic Games.

Riefenstahl, of course, is remembered for "Triumph of the Will," her documentary on the 1934 Nazi rallies in Nuremberg.

It was a groundbreaking work in what is remembered as an innovative filmmaking career. Shortly after her death in 2003, The Economist wrote that the film "sealed her reputation as the greatest female filmmaker of the 20th century."

That may have been true, but she was in her early 30s. She lived past the age of 100. That doesn't say much for her accomplishments in the last seven decades of her life, does it?

Some lives are like that, I guess. Some people enjoy their greatest accomplishments early in life. Perhaps Riefenstahl was one of them.

That certainly seems to be the case with Owens. He struggled a lot after the 1936 Olympics and died of lung cancer at the age of 66.