WILL THAULT: The hot mess that is the Melancholympics

By Will Thault

I have a new word for the hot mess known as the 2020 Olympics fiasco as it awkwardly parades before an ever-dwindling television audience: Melancholympics. If this trend continues, there may be more viewers in the spectator-less stands at the closing ceremonies than on the tube. This mash-up of the words melancholy and Olympics best describes the sadness I feel for an event that now seems oddly out of step with our times.

As a general rule, nations once cast global political tensions and ambitions aside for a couple of weeks to watch world-class athletes compete as individuals or teams; thrilling us with seemingly impossible feats of strength, speed, skill and endurance. However, hitting the political pause button didn’t mean ignoring national pride in an athlete’s achievements. In our case, we called our Olympians Team USA. Finally something Alabama and Georgia fans (insert your team name and rivalry here as well) could all agree on. Was it that long ago that we actually used to watch the tote board each day to see how Team USA’s gold medal count fared against the rest of the world’s? Now, in today’s climate of fairness and inclusiveness, we find ourselves slightly, if not totally, ashamed of rooting for “our” athletes to win more gold than the others.

There are still more reasons for Melancholympics. It seems that political agenda and national pride have hopelessly intertwined. We can’t just simply celebrate the Games anymore; we have to give way to athletes who want to use the world stage as a platform for the expression of their political or social justice beliefs. I find it sad that most if not all of these protesters are members of team USA – a country known for constitutionally defending these rights.

But ironically these same rights allow for them to shame our country on the world stage. How many other countries would tolerate similar actions on the ceremonial platform or during the playing of their national anthem without facing severe consequences? Perhaps there should be a new international team formed that would allow these discontents to temporarily renounce allegiance to their country at the next Olympics, so that they could perform solely for their own personal glory. They could each have their own flag to represent them, too. This way they wouldn’t be “biting the hand that feeds them.” I’m sure that there are plenty of deep-pocket sponsors and world-class coaches who would readily volunteer their services to help give these activists the competitive edge they need to compete for the gold.

Mainstream media, of course, do not see any of the above as reasons for the waning interest in The Games. Instead, they’ll tell you a) it’s because of the lack of spectators to cheer on the athletes, b) the time-delay of the events halfway around the world, c) COVID 19, d) protestors in Japan who think the Olympics – already postponed a year – should’ve been scrapped altogether because of the pandemic and e) because more people are streaming content rather than watching the broadcasts. Yes, these add to the Melancholympics. But there’s still more to consider.

I tried not to tune into the Opening Ceremonies a week ago, but like a moth drawn to a candle, watching a spider spinning a web or driving slowly past a horrible car wreck, I couldn’t resist sneaking a peak during a commercial break or two while watching a Braves vs. Phillies game. Bad decision on my part. It was even worse than I expected!

Melancholy music played behind a dancer wrapping herself in dozens of ribbons stretched across the stage, giving the appearance of inescapable bondage, while performing in front of a vast and empty stadium – enhancing the sense of isolation. An apt metaphor for those suffering from today’s worldwide melancholia, but do we need a further reminder? I’ve had nightmare dreams less depressing. As more “Debbie Downer” moments continued to unfold, I hastily switched back to the baseball game.

A few innings later, that car wreck, rubber-necking feeling came back. I caught the tail end of the Parade of Nations, just in time to see Team USA come on the scene. It was almost reminiscent of past walk-ons with chants of “USA! USA!” and waves to the cameras, until I started noticing, once again, the ubiquitous masks and the darkness of the empty stadium stands, with the exception of a few hundred members of the press and VIPs (including Dr. Biden’s USA contingency) scattered about. Before the torch was lit, an eerie ball of glowing light was formed above the open air stadium by a cluster of drones. Simultaneously very impressive as well as creepy, if you share my same opinion of drones.

Then came the Kumbaya moment.

Celebrity singers – some live, some pre-taped, performed John Lennon’s “Imagine” as a sing-along with all the athletes. Even though this song has become a recurring anthem at past Olympics, I couldn’t help but notice one peculiar phrase within the lyrics, “Imagine there’s no countries.” Hmmm … This being sung by athletes representing 206 nations? Let that sink in for a moment. It’s a paradox in search of a conundrum.

In spite of all the angst, contradictions and, yes, melancholy surrounding The Games, I’d like to wish the best of luck to all those Olympians who’ve trained so hard and sacrificed so much to earn the honor to compete. Here’s hoping that your dedication to excellence isn’t overshadowed by those who seek personal notoriety over athletic accomplishments. To the attention seekers, “I hope someday you’ll join us and the world will live as one.”