As published in The County Times (countytimes.somd.com)
By Ronald N. Guy Jr.
My daughter’s convinced that watching sports is a
waste of time. She lectures me about it
and often uses it to rebut my suggestion that she’s neglecting her homework
assignments while absorbed in her electronic devices and social life – an
apparently far more noble pursuit than following competitive athletics. In her mind, what’s good for dad is good for
daughter, despite the gross imbalance of leisure time afforded by her
middle-school life and my adult-with-multiple-kids life.
But she’s 13, so there’s no winning the argument. Frankly, I don’t need to; I just need to win
the moment. To do so, I recite a refrain
my dad used on me: Do as I say, not as I do.
Once I layer on the threat of confiscating her precious electronics –
the ones her parents procured and pay to keep connected to the outside world –
for a frightening length of time (you know, like an hour), she reluctantly, if
not silently, complies. Deep down she
knows I’m right. I think. I hope.
When she gets older, I’ll explain why I watch
sports. It’s still about the obvious: passionately
rooting my teams to victory. But at age
43, it’s not entirely about the results.
Sports are therapy now. They are
an old friend and a retreat to a comfortable place. I watch seeking tangible examples of human excellence,
elite performances under intense pressure, individuals overcoming adversity and
teams reaching heights beyond what their collective talent would predict. Despite being affixed to the couch with a
remote, not a pick axe, in my hand, I am a desperate miner searching for golden
nuggets of inspirational fuel for my journey and for moments when life fails to
deal me aces and faces.
Sports consistently fill my tank. The Rio Games alone offered up Simone Biles,
Katie Ledecky, Simone Manuel, Paul George and Kristin Armstrong (a fellow
43-year-old in slightly better shape than this writer) to rekindle the fire in
our guts. Sports are, however, nothing
if not a cross section of society, so with the good comes the bad. Watch enough sports, or even a little, and
you will encounter unimaginable egos, rampant narcissism, cheaters and
perpetrators of a myriad of crimes.
Oh, and don’t forget liars.
Remember when Ryan Lochte, a 13-time medal winner, was
just the second most decorated male swimmer in Olympic history? Wasn’t it great seeing the 32-year-old
veteran winning gold with rival and long-time teammate Michael Phelps one last
time?
It was a storybook ending until Lochte went boorish
frat boy, got hammered and destroyed property at a Rio gas station. Then, for some reason known only to that
ego-laden, self-serving space between his ears, Lochte concocted a fictitious
account of the event that put his teammates at risk, dimmed the well-earned
spotlight of other Olympians, embarrassed his country and laid waste to his
reputation.
Lochte claimed he and three teammates had been robbed
at gunpoint by a man dressed as a police officer. In reality, he and his boys damaged property
and urinated on the premises because, you know, they thought they could. The truth, as it usually does in the
information age, eventually surfaced which prompted Lochte to play the drunk/immature
card and latently apologize for the “over-exaggerated” account of the night’s
events.
Lochte didn’t “over-exaggerate”. He lied.
And this from a guy who was born on the exact day – 3 August 1984 – that
Mary Lou Retton stuck her “Perfect 10” vault to win the women’s all-around
gymnastics gold at the 1984 Los Angeles Games.
Who could have guessed the day that produced American perfection would
produce an absolute zero 32 years later?
But I want to thank Lochte. Seriously.
At some point I’ll be having a conversation with my kids and I’ll need evidence
to illustrate the importance of respectfully diffusing a bad situation, being
forthright and truthful and recognizing that a person’s reputation, while
forged by countless acts, can be undone by a single error.
Lochte will be perfect for those moments. Maybe he’ll even help my daughter understand
why I watch sports and realize it’s hardly a waste of time.
No comments:
Post a Comment