Making things happen
... with integrity
Monday August 23, 2004 Volume VI Number 34
|
by Ken Kemp |
ell, I’m hooked on the Olympics again. Names like Carly and Hamm and Phelps are now seared into the memory banks with more to come.
Who could forget the moment when Mary Lou Retton she
emerged from that perfect vault and stuck that
landing in 1984 – age fifteen,
the first American woman ever to win the individual Gold in the all-around
competition (unless, of course, you weren’t born yet)? Now, after twenty years
of disappointment for the women, another “Mary Lou” takes center stage. We
cheer with just as much enthusiasm. Maybe more. Carly Patterson, under the
most intense pressure imaginable, retained her poise and seemed to improve with
each exercise. And in her coach's arms, finally, aware that she posted The Top
Score, as the stadium crowd filled the room with whoops and hollers and
whistles, sportscasters on the hunt for superlatives determined to add to the
air of celebration, her team-mates reaching to pat her on the back approvingly,
her parents wiping away tears of joy, little Carly broke. For just a moment,
she let it go. All the tension. All the anticipation. All the apprehension.
All the angst. Released. She held her coach, and as he held her back – tight
in his arms - the little girl, now an Olympic Champion, let down her guard. She
wept. Every parent in the world watching, millions upon millions of us,
instinctively, in our hearts, hugged her, too. Right along with the coach.
She earned those tears. They were tears of accomplishment. Tears of relief. It’s what every parent hopes for - that somehow our child will find something that will demand the best. Something that will capture all the enthusiasm and energy and ideals of youth, and channel them into hard work and persistence and determination. And then, when the reward comes, well, there’s nothing like it.
Svetlana Khorkina, they called her the Russian Diva,
didn’t work very hard to disguise the temperamental arrogance. She gave the
whole drama of the women’s over-all some real depth. Like the good old days of
the Cold War – when the Two Superpowers met on the Olympic stage, like the
clash of two opposing world views. Two competing systems. There was the
element of the old Russia in the competition. Carly won. Svetlana scowled.
Mary Lou was patched in by the network. In the glow of the morning after victory, Carly, now a Champion but still a sixteen year old girl, listened as Mary Lou, now well into her thirties and media veteran, Carly’s inspiration, proclaimed, “Carly, we are SO VERY PROUD of you!” And we are.
Carly, like so many of the rising star athletes, clearly
has been prepared for the media blitz. It must be part of their training –
like nutrition, daily work-out routines, strength and speed enhancements – how
to speak into a microphone and smile for the camera. You can sense it. When
the camera rolls and the questions are hurled, these kids are ready. They’ve
memorized their lines. Usually, it’s something about what a privilege to
represent such a great country and how this is a dream come true and they hope
legions of young people will join in the sport and set their goals and
that this is the most exciting moment of their entire lives and how grateful
they are to parents and coaches for preparing them for this day and all like
that. These are good, worthy lines, because as every coach knows, a champion
must also be gracious and likeable if they are going to win endorsements. And
generally, they come from the heart.
When you are sixteen, you are beginning to feel grown up. You think of yourself as an adult. But as you age, you look back at sixteen and well, you realize that the clues you embraced about life weren’t clues at all. Words like innocence. Naiveté. Even clueless. All come to mind. The journey is only beginning.
Mary Lou Retton had to pinch herself as she spoke to Carly. She’s SO young, she must have thought. Was I that age when I won my gold? (Yes, you were, Mary Lou. You were fifteen.)
But what a start.
* * * * * *
When Michael Phelps reached down stretched forward from behind and snatched the 100-Meter Butterfly from his team-mate and competitor Ian Crocker, I sat staring in wide-eyed disbelief. Crocker pulled ahead for most of the race. Phelps fought all the way. Only after several replays from several angles, and hitting my Tivo slo-mo on my own, over and again, did I believe the electronic results.
Phelps won yet another Gold.
An interviewer asked nineteen year old Michael about Ian. Ian, a butterfly world record holder, beat Michael in a race about a year before Athens. Phelps put a picture of Crocker on his wall, just to remind him of the defeat. He knew he would meet him again. But next time, he was determined to win. And in the August 20 100 meter butterfly in Athans, by four one hundredths of a second, Phelps did just that. He won.
Phelps also won a position for himself in the 4X100 relay on the American team. But then it was announced – Phelps yielded his place to his nemesis and his competitor – Ian Crocker. He would voluntarily sit on the sidelines – and give his team-mate the opportunity to grab a Gold Medal of his own.
Which Ian did.
This is the kind of story that hooks me to the games. I’m a helpless, hopeless fan.
You would have known if you’d read my piece, Peak Performance (LeaderFOCUS, October 2, 2002), four years ago at the close of the Sydney games.
I was taken then by the smile and the comments of a platform diver by the name of Laura Wilkinson.
* * * * * * * *
I went back again and read that four-year-old piece. It brought it all back. Then I looked up Laura’s web site, knowing that she’s battling again as an under-dog - kind of like the last Olympics when in a dramatic come-back, she took home the Gold.
It was her comment in Sydney in the year 2000 to an eager
reporter as she pulled herself out of the water just after her Gold Medal
winning final dive.
“How did you do it?” putting the mike in Laura’s face.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” Laura replied for an audience of billions.
Judging from her web-site, Laura’s commitment has only grown stronger. I found a contact e-mail address, and just because, I sent her a link to my old LeaderFOCUS. Just this morning, to my complete surprise and delight, she wrote back. Apparently Olympians check their e-mail in Athens.
She read it and liked it.
My my my.
* * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
And your Olympic heroes have inspired you once more to a higher level of achievement and purpose.
Four years ago, I raised a question: does faith inhibit or enhance performance? Some would suggest that your faith in God is an avoidance mechanism, prompting retreat from the realities of a competitive world.
I believe quite otherwise.
Genuine faith prepares you to engage - not to retreat. Authentic faith prepares you to win. Like Laura Wilkinson, who is outspoken in her commitment, faith is the substance of things hoped for – the evidence of things not yet seen. Faith visualizes a future that not only can be – but will be.
I don’t know how faith guides and energizes the other athletes. But there is a purity and wholesomeness in the ideals of the Games that ought to be preserved and celebrated. Those who cheat the system or sidestep the rules or short-circuit the process should be and will be penalized.
But for the rest – when their turn comes to step up and wear the Gold and the wreath of victory, we’ll celebrate with them and sing the national anthem with a lump in our throats.
And we’ll brush away a tear.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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