Olympic thought
I love Olympics. I always have. Every two years, I sit on my couch/bed/floor/bench, whenever I am and I watch the Opening Ceremony. The first memory I have about the Olympics is probably 1984, and the diver who hit his head then. I don't remember 1988, but suddenly it was 1992, Albertville and Barcelona. I remember being at our family house with my cousin, watching TV and complaining that commercials were actually longer than the broadcasts. 1994 Lilhammer went quietly. From 1996, I remember Ray Charles, singing Georgia at the Opening. In 1998, I was in Canada, working on assignment late in the kitchen at Uni and watching Nicolas Fontaine winning Gold, Gwendal & Marina win for France. I think I still have the article I cut in the Newspaper somewhere. In 2000, still at Uni, and it was Cathy Freeman lighting the Cauldron in a rush of blue and gold, Sebastian Lareau winning a gold medal in Tennis, Ian Thorp, and it was amazing. In 2002, the Hockey coach buried a toonie under the ice and Mario Lemieux did the trick to bring back Gold from Salt Lake City. Only a year after the Event, it was hard. 2004, Athens was sweet and composed. 2006 is bittersweet. I can't see anything but our proud Hockey Team looking like boy scouts. 2008, Beijing, wonderful ceremony and of course, staying up late to see the best Olympian of all times (we'll know for sure in a few days), Michael Phelps swim. In Vancouver, who else than Sid the Kid, the wonderful Clara Hughes, and Jennifer Hails could make us to happy? Even if the flying beavers during Michael Buble show was a bit too much.
But today, London welcomes the World, and if the world ends this doomed 2012, then it would end with a bang. Danny Boyle did an amazing job. He showed what Britain is, what Britain gave to the World, and what our future looks like. I enjoyed every bit. I savoured Kenneth Brannagh's shakespearean claim. I laughed at loud at Rowan Atkinson's grimaces. I marveled at the time passing by, from green lands to the grey of the industrial era. I cheered for every Mary Poppins, every chariot of fire, James Bond, the Stones, Peter Pan, the Monkeys, Pink Floyd, Sir Paul McCartney. I cheered for every flag and I grinned broadly at each athlete, waving even they could see me.
And I cried, a lot. Because I cried during each Opening Ceremony, every single time. I cried because Danny Boyle remembered the poppies, because London remember its history, and believe in our future. I was wondering who would open the cauldron. In some way, we all did it.
Happy Olympics.
But today, London welcomes the World, and if the world ends this doomed 2012, then it would end with a bang. Danny Boyle did an amazing job. He showed what Britain is, what Britain gave to the World, and what our future looks like. I enjoyed every bit. I savoured Kenneth Brannagh's shakespearean claim. I laughed at loud at Rowan Atkinson's grimaces. I marveled at the time passing by, from green lands to the grey of the industrial era. I cheered for every Mary Poppins, every chariot of fire, James Bond, the Stones, Peter Pan, the Monkeys, Pink Floyd, Sir Paul McCartney. I cheered for every flag and I grinned broadly at each athlete, waving even they could see me.
And I cried, a lot. Because I cried during each Opening Ceremony, every single time. I cried because Danny Boyle remembered the poppies, because London remember its history, and believe in our future. I was wondering who would open the cauldron. In some way, we all did it.
Happy Olympics.