BEIJING — Hugh McCutcheon watched the celebration, put his hands to his head and, suddenly, started to weep. He left the court, tears streaming down his cheeks, the joy of victory overcome by the pain of real life.
Two weeks earlier, his father-in-law had been stabbed to death in Beijing. Now his U.S. men’s volleyball team was celebrating Olympic gold.
Your heart ached, just watching. Ached and swelled with pride, too.
That is the Olympics. That is why we will miss it now that its done. Here’s a guy you never heard of, coaching a sport you never cared about, and he touches you, and me, and everyone who hears his tale.
Or consider Shawn Johnson, one of the American gymnasts who lost the gold to the Chinese in the team competition. When asked if the Chinese were too young to compete, Johnson didn’t hesitate.
“I’ve looked up to the Chinese ever since I was little,” she said. “I could never have anything bad to say about them because I respect them totally.”
Johnson is 16, mind you. And had the grace to say something like that. When she finally won a gold on the balance beam, the Chinese roared and roared. “I’ll never forget these two weeks,” Johnson said.
How could she? How could any of us?
It was the Olympics of Michael Phelps, the Olympics of Usain Bolt, the Olympics that reminded us how much fun the Olympics can be.
Not long ago, we were skeptical. Some Americans cyclists got off the plane in Beijing wearing masks. The air would ruin the games. Or steroids would ruin the games. Or censorship, or the time difference, or NBC, or something.
Then along came Michael Phelps and you couldn’t leave your TV. The guy was incredible. An authentic American tale. A child of divorce, a kid with ADHD. He grew up to win eight gold medals in Beijing. And what a thrilling ride it was, too. The impossibly close relay. The even closer 100 butterfly.
No Olympics has been better organized. No Olympics has had better facilities or more helpful, smiling volunteers. The Opening and Closing Ceremonies were jaw-dropping. The buses ran on time.
It was an absolutely fabulous party thrown by the Chinese. But it’s hard not to have some misgivings about how it was all done. Fake fireworks? Fake singers? Fake breezes for the flags?
Was this real or some fantasy created by the Chinese central government?
The Chinese government invited people to apply for licenses to protest. Then they arrested some who did. How to square that with the public celebration of peace and understanding? One world, one dream, one year in a labor camp?
The hope is that the Olympics will speed the process of change in China, but maybe even that’s unfair. The Super Bowl doesn’t change the world. The World Series doesn’t bring us peace. Isn’t it enough that the last couple weeks have been indisputably fun?
India got to celebrate a gold medal in shooting and Togo got to celebrate a bronze medal in kayak. Thailand got to celebrate a gold in weightlifting by — ready? — Prapawadee Jaroenrattanatarakoon.
After Kobe Bryant and his teammates on the United States basketball team beat Spain on Sunday to win gold, they danced and bumped and couldn’t stop smiling for the better part of an hour. The Olympics can make even hardened pros act like kids. Hardened fans, too.
Maybe that’s the greatest gift of these Games. The way they’ve made us feel. When’ is the last time all of America pulled for the same thing? There’s no blue America or red America when we watch the Olympics. There’s just America, home of the free.
That’s over now, too. The Democratic and Republican conventions are on their way. Then the debates, then the election. You support yours and I’ll support mine.
It’s the way of the world, of course. The Olympics might inspire us, but they aren’t meant to last. We have to get back to the business of real life.
Hugh McCutcheon understands this as well as anyone. After spending a moment to collect himself Sunday, he finally emerged to rejoin his volleyball team. They had their golds. They had their memories, too.
“We need to get home and get on with it,” he said. “Our work here is done.”
Geoff Calkins writes for The Commercial Appeal in Memphis, Tenn.
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