Athletes need mettle before medals

The Winter Olympics are finishing the race at the bottom of TV mountain. Twice last week, “American Idol” beat it in the ratings.

Sports and media analysts have theories why. Perhaps it’s the time difference between here and Italy, or the lack of superstar athletes, or the demise of the U.S.-Soviet Union rivalry.

I’ve loved the Olympics in years past. Never much of an athlete, I felt awe at the great bodies and great skills. But this year, I’ve pretty much tuned it out. My reasons?

The chiropractic cringe: I can’t watch one more dreadful spill. The ice-dancing couples who fell during competition over the weekend reminded me of couples collapsing during Depression-era dance contests. The nastiest spill befell Canadian partners Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon.

The Calgary Sun reported that “Dubreuil was in obvious pain at centre ice while she regained her breath. The 31-year-old from Montreal was unable to do the customary bow to the crowd. Her face strained from the shock of the blow, she slowly made it with Lauzon’s support to the boards and off the ice. After receiving their marks, he carried her to the dressing room. A few minutes later, Dubreuil was placed on a stretcher and taken to hospital where she had her back, pelvis and hip X-rayed.”

These falls have wrecked Olympic ice-skating for me because it seems as if the sport is training its fans to expect these spills as normal. The sport has sacrificed grace for daring. I want ballet on ice, not an accidental Three Stooges routine.

Also, when you reach a certain age, you know what the spilled-ice folks will endure later in life. The body memory will bite them in the back when they are in their 50s. Sometimes, just watching their tumbles, I feel a twinge in my spinal cord.

The boring back stories: When speed skater Dan Jansen went for the gold in 1988, he did it in honor of his sister Jane, who was dying from leukemia. She insisted that he race. He did. He didn’t medal that year, but his sister’s memory was a motivator. When he finally earned his gold medal in 1994, it provided a teary ending to a beautiful story.

Jansen’s back story seemed novel at the time. Now, every athlete has a two-hanky tale. They tell reporters that they are competing to honor dying or dead family members or to overcome early childhood struggles. How refreshing it would be to hear them admit they compete because they sacrificed normal childhoods for this and hope to make People magazine’s 50 Most Beautiful list.

I’d relish seeing an athlete drop out of competition and fly home to the bedside of a dying relative. There, the athlete would learn that it’s emotionally more difficult to hold vigil with a dying loved one than race down a mountain in his or her honor.

The “Simmer” Olympics: In headline news reports, highlights from the Olympics are followed by video of radical Muslims training for what I’ve deemed the Simmer Olympics. In rage over the Danish cartoons, the radicals are sprinting over embassy walls. They are hurling rocks, their own version of sport. One of their coaches, Osama bin Laden, recently released a tape urging his followers to do another one for the Gipper.

The newsreel highlights from the 1936 Olympics in Germany are spellbindingly eerie and not solely because of Hitler. The Olympics weren’t held again for more than a decade because of World War II. The world now has that eerie something-bad-is-simmering feel. (I hope I’m wrong.)

The Olympics once provided escape from everyday anxiety. Now, the games seem mired in it, too. Instead of the Olympics, I’m watching “Lost,” tonight. In this sci-fi hit, islanders stranded together worry what the heck will happen next. Perfect.