Olympic Thoughts

Jackie Robinson is a true American hero. He had the courage and the strength to integrate baseball at a time when that was anathema to baseball as an institution. Jackie might not have been the best negro league player (Satchel? Josh Gibson? Cool Papa Bell?), but he was the right player-the right man-for the job. This isn't about Jackie Robinson. This is about his brother.

Matthew "Mack" Robinson, was an athlete and an activist. Seems like it's hard to distinguish between the two, especially during the heady times of the mid 20th century. Like his younger brother, Mack could run. Run well enough to make it to the Olympic games. Run well enough to make it to the Olympic finals. Run well enough to set a world record. Mack was the world's fastest man. Jackie could never lay claim to that honor.

Thing is, neither could Mack.

Matthew Robinson ran the 200 meters faster than any man who ever lived...except for the man who won the gold medal. You see, sometimes you make history, and sometimes history makes you. Matthew Robinson ran faster than any man ever, and you would know his name like your own, except this was 1936 in Hitler's Germany, and the man who won the gold was Jesse Owens.

I was reminded of this story tonight as I watched the Winter Olympic Opening Ceremony in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. The story of Matthew Robinson at the Olympics is the story of every athlete who participates. Each man and woman in Vancouver tonight has worked their entire lives to be there. Many have fought poverty, oppression, and their own demons to be there. They all know, just as Mack Robinson learned, that the reach for eternal glory, the redemption for yourself and your family, the difference between obscurity and the honor of representing your country at the highest level...is 0.4 seconds.

These athletes understand this, they understand the potential for failure and still they go on. They continue to ski, skate, and play. They continue to walk.

Earlier today, before the opening cermonies for the 21st Winter Olympiad, a Georgian athlete named Nodar Kumartshvili died during a practice run for his event, the luge. Anyone with eyes will tell you that luge is one of the most dangerous sports in the world. I can't speak for Nodar or his family, but I feel justified in saying that Nodar knew that. He liked luge, and he was good at luge, and Nodar qualified for the Olympics doing something he liked-something he loved. And during these opening ceremonies, the Georgian team was faced with a choice: walk during the parade of nations, or withdraw.

The Georgians made the brave decision to walk; they represented their nation, and Nodar proudly. They walked upon the ice of BC Place and showed the world that through adversity and pain, suffering and sadness, they showed that glory and honor may still be achieved.

We might never know if Nodar would have come out of qualifying rounds, or if he would have taken home the gold medal, but we do know that he made it to the Olympics. Not the Georgian trials, not the world trials. The Olympics. Nodar Kumartshvili joins the long list of athletes and patriots, dreamers and achievers, who have worked through sport to bring glory to their country and peace to their world.

The Vancouver Opening Ceremony was dedicated to Nodar, but could just as easily been dedicated to Mack Robinson. Or any athlete who worked their young life to get to the top, only to have the swift hand of fate sweep them away. Thing is, that's not sad. Mack Robinson worked his entire life to better his community, and was rewarded with numerous acolades and a long and healthy life. Nodar, with his sacrifice, will no doubt bring higher safety standards to games in general, and hopefully show young Georgians that glory can be achieved on the field, on the track, on the ice, or in the classroom. His honor is that of all of Georgia, of all of the world's.

This is the Olympics. The world doesn't stop. There are still wars. Famine, poverty, and disease still devastate us all. But for two weeks every two years we are reminded that it can be different. It may seem impossible, but the vision of the Olympic spirit shows us that through game comes understanding, through competition comes friendship. Through death, comes life.