I love the Olympics.  I pig out for two weeks on people I have never heard of who have dedicated their lives to be great at something they love.  These people are the “dream team” of all the major sports in the world.  The only difference is they play non-spectator sports.  With very few exceptions, if it’s on, I watch. 

I make an exception for men’s basketball.  I admit I used to watch when it was the amateurs playing, but now I don’t care.  These guys are fabulously wealthy and famous; they don’t need the Olympics and they’ve generally played like it.  For God’s sake, we invented the game!  How could we finish 3^rd in the last Olympics with our best guys on the floor? 

It’s not that I value amateurs over pros; I don’t.  I’d much rather see the best players in the world play in any sport.  After all, isn’t that the point?  The best in the world, battling it out for sports immortality?  What I really want in my Olympians is the effort. 

I also want to see people who have worked just as hard at their sports as baseball and basketball players have, which includes all of them.  I particularly like fencing.  Fencers are like human spiders and the competition is instant.  It’s pure attack and defense.  I don’t understand it but I love it.  I appreciate the effort involved in rowing although the sport leaves me cold.  Same with cycling.  After all, who can really be enamored of a moving exercise station? 

I never watch the Olympics without thinking of John Lugbill.  Ever heard of him?  Back in the 80’s he was the greatest white water kayaker in the world.  For 10 years he dominated the sport.  And what was his reward?  Well, Lugbill was on the front of a Wheaties box, but he wasn’t what you’d call a matinee idol.  He toiled away in roiling, frigid waters which were almost always at the base of some dangerous swirling canyon of water.  Which means you couldn’t even watch him compete if you wanted to.  The saddest thing is, because of his efforts, kayaking was finally made into an Olympic sport, but by then Lugbill was too old to medal at the sport which he defined.

There is a lesson to learn from John Lugbill.  When you find the sport you love, that’s the sport you keep.  You work and you practice and you compete and along the way the sport makes you into a better person.  It teaches you about commitment and dedication and fundamentals and training.  It teaches you about strategy and tactics.  Ultimately, it teaches you all of the lessons of life.  The basketball players could teach them to you, but I think it’s better to learn them from a kayaker.  Anyone can be impressed with the bling that comes with NBA stardom, but I think the lesson means more when you learn it from the greatest athlete you never saw.  For me, that’s the real Olympic message.