In Honor of the Olympics

The following post was written by my friend Ralf Czerny. It is a beautiful and touching post. Ralf gave me permission to repost it. I hope you enjoy the message.

In honor of the Olympics, here is my story from the 88 Olympics in Calgary:

Shirley and I got to go to the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary, Canada. We had a wonderful time there and one of the most impressive things about it was the sense of friendship and unity which seemed to exist between the people who attended. I recall one of the last medal ceremonies; standing in a crowd of 65,000 people from all over the world, with practically everyone there; cheering for athletes from other countries. The crowd seemed to share a sense of community, which feeling was one of the most unique and wonderful things I have ever experienced.

It was the last day of the Olympics competition. Most of the events had been completed but, due to weather problems, the Nordic Combined competition had been re-scheduled for that last day. This event consisted of two separate elements; in the morning there was a ski-jumping competition and in the afternoon, a cross-country skiing race which would complete the competition and determine the medal winners. The winners of the morning’s ski jump would earn a time advantage and leave the starting line first, getting a head start on their competitors. This was done so that the competitor finishing first in the skiing event would be the Gold Medal winner. In the past, the event had not been staged this way; it had been confusing to the spectators. Now, the new format added to the excitement of the crowd. In addition, there was a growing realization in the crowd that the Olympics were drawing to a close and, the crowd wanted to show their appreciation.

There were forty-four competitors from all over the world vying for a medal. All had the opportunity to win, but the later starters, realistically, had very little chance of receiving a medal.

The winner of the morning’s ski-jump left the starting gate. Then, the second place ski-jumper left, and so on. The competition began to unfold. Seated in the grandstand, the spectators had a view of the mountain’s face and occasionally we were able to see the competitors as they made their way along the route.

The crowd sat in anticipation of seeing the competitors make the final turn for the finish line. There was a long straight-away where we could see the final drama unfold. We watched and cheered as the Gold Medalist finished with a final burst of speed. Then, as I recall, the Silver and Bronze finalists fought it out down the straight-away; one barely edging out the other at the finish line. And, with that, the excitement of the crowd seemed to wane. A few spectators left, but the majority of the crowd stayed.

As the non-medaling competitors began to come in, there would usually be a contingent of their countrymen there to cheer them home. The Swiss, with their cow-bells and horns made a lot of noise as the Swiss athletes crossed the finish line. Then, as the Canadian competitors arrived, the local contingent tried to out-do the previous display. Not to be outdone, the Americans tried to make an even bigger “noise” as the American athletes came down the stretch and crossed the finish line.

Soon, a competitor who did not have any one there to cheer for him came in. A few individuals, Shirley and I included, gave him a rousing welcome and cheered him home. Then, the crowd got “into it.” As each competitor made that last turn and headed home, the crowd would cheer them to the finish line. In some cases, the competitors were so surprised by the reception, it almost made them stagger; as they made that last turn and were stunned by the suddenly roaring spectators. These were the last competitors of the Olympics and the crowd wanted to show their appreciation and support.

When competitor number thirty-two made the turn, even from a distance, his fatigue and discouragement were apparent. There would be no medal, only an ignominious placement way down the list of the forty-four competitors. But the spectators would not have it that way. As competitor number thirty-two made the turn for home, he was greeted with a deafening roar of encouragement and support. His reaction was amazing - you could see his surprise and then watch as the crowd’s encouragement seemed to imbue him with strength. His fatigue suddenly forgotten, he picked up his stride and dashed, renewed, to the finish line.

Then, number thirty-three got an even louder reception because the crowd now sensed that these were the Olympics last few competitors and we were going to cheer each of them home. Competitor thirty-four, thirty-five, and so on each received what I believe must have been one of the greatest thrills of their life as each was greeted with a successively louder and more enthusiastic welcome. Number thirty-eight, thirty-nine and forty came in. Then as the second to the last competitor came in; number forty-three, the response from the crowd was astounding and unbelievable. I have never heard anything like it in my life - a deafening roar of welcome and support.

The crowd waited in anticipation for competitor number forty-four. We were going to give him the thrill of his life and, with our voices and encouragement, BRING HIM HOME!

We waited. A hush fell over the crowd. Then came the announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, competitor number forty-four has quit the course.” A collective moan of disappointment and sorrow issued from the crowd.

Sadly, the crowd began to disperse, our voices hushed and muted in disappointment, cow-bells and noise makers left silent, their intended celebration unfulfilled.

As we walked back to the bus, Shirley and I were filled with wonder at what we had just witnessed. We were filled with a sense of happiness and joy for all the competitors we had been able to cheer. But, amid this joy, was sadness and loss for competitor number fourty-four. Shirley and I are convinced that he missed out on one of the greatest thrills of his life and had he only kept on going, a little further, we could have helped him make it to the finish line.

I have often thought about competitor number forty-four. He could not have known what was waiting for him but, because he gave up, he did not receive what we wanted to share with him. He never knew we were waiting to help him.

I have also realized that, in a larger sense, we are all like competitor forty-four. We are often tired, fatigued and worn out. We are often, not winners, but merely also-rans in competitions where; the prize may be just out of reach or, our defeat is virtually predetermined.

We will almost always have detractors and often be the subject of unfair or exaggerated criticism. And yet, isn’t there also a crowd out there who, unbeknownst to us, is supportive of us and hoping still, to cheer us home? I believe that: for each and every one of us, there is. They may be friends and relatives or, they may be just acquaintances. We may have never even met them or been aware of their existence, but they are our cheering section and want us to succeed.

We only need to do one thing to avail ourselves of love and encouragement; that is, don’t quit the course. Keep trying, keep doing, be patient and don’t give up until you have reached your finish line - whatever that is.

You may not hear the roar, you may not see the crowd applauding and on their feet, you may have to carry your load down that long straight-away; weary and alone. You may even lose the path for a time. But, we all have a cheering section who, if we could hear them would cheer us home. Be assured they are there!

Thanks Ralf!

Calvert Cazier