Revolutionary Moderation

(RevMod guest host and surplus bandwith filler BEAR pops by with...)



The Games So Far...



While Don is absorbed by the further commodification of the music industry that is Canadian Idol, I've been watching the further commodification of sports that are the Games of the XXVIIIth Olympiad. Since I work relatively early and live on the west coast, I'm seeing half of it live, and half of it on tape, mostly on CBC, some on NBC, et un petit peu avec Radio-Canada. Athens appears to have become the Y2K bug of international events, as with three days to go until the flame extinguishes, the organizational breakdowns and terrorist threats have yet to materialize. Mind you, Colin Powell plans to pop by for the Closing Ceremonies.



Like Don, I'm not choked with the medal count, but as a baseball fan (yes, everyone who writes at this blog goes in for sports most people consider boring in their non-violence), it would have been nice to see Canada come back with something from the diamond: doesn't Stubby Clapp deserve to be a household name? As we go to press here, Canada has seven medals, and "we" have potential in canoe/kayak, diving, sailing, and maybe something else that splashes. It's by no means the disappointment some of us have been led to believe: both 1976 in Montreal and the 1988 winter games in Calgary saw "us" come away with five medals at each games, none of them gold.



As for the quotation marks around "we" and "us", I think that's coming from the recurring nausea from the counseling sessions/inquisitions masquerading as post-event interviews with Canadian athletes who come up a little short. Sure, they did their best, just being there is an achievement, wash, rinse, repeat, but if the media took that seriously (and I'm looking at you, CBC), don't these athletes deserve their space and a few minutes to collect themselves, instead of coming crying and apologizing like they ran over your Mom? At the risk of skirting the "our athletes need more funding" mantra, I'm pretty sure that none of whatever funding they get goes to dealing with Scott Oake shoving a mic (and whatever you said about your chances before the starter's pistol) in your face, right after you've been swimming your guts out to 28th place.



Anyway, it will be all over but the shouting come Sunday. When you started to lose interest in the women's beach volleyball tournament, you knew the end was coming.