Post-Games blues nothing to do with lack of gold

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 26/02/2018 (3140 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I have an Olympic-sized hole in my heart.

I am not trying to suggest I am a little bummed out by the fact that Canada did not win gold in women’s or men’s hockey at the Winter Games in Pyeongchang, South Korea. (Although, yes, it does sting a little bit.)

I am also not trying to suggest I am despondent over the fact our men’s and women’s curling foursomes failed to bag gold for the first time in Olympic memory. (For the record, that doesn’t sting at all, and if you’re pondering sending me hate mail, don’t bother, because I still have not finished reading all the online anger I received for mocking the Roaring Game during the 2008 Brier in Winnipeg.)

No, the truth is my little heart is broken because after spending two weeks on the couch in my den watching Olympians I do not know competing in sports I do not understand — and frequently doing it in Spandex-style Spider-Man suits that would explode if I tried to squeeze into one — the Games are officially over.

Speaking of the closing ceremonies, weren’t they a (bad word) sight to behold? I am asking because, technically speaking, I have not yet seen the closing ceremonies because, thanks to an extremely tight deadline in this section of the newspaper, I am writing these words on Friday morning, shortly after watching our vagabond NHL-free men’s hockey squad fall 4-3 to the unheralded Germans in the semifinals.

But, like I said, I’m not hot and bothered because our national puck squads fell short of the gold. The truth is, every four years it’s the same thing — I am gripped by a bout of Post-Olympic Games Depression.

Every four years, my wife and I will stake out positions on the two couches in our den and spend every waking hour for two weeks becoming obsessed with sports that, in non-Olympic years, we probably would not watch even if we received large Canada Council grants to do so.

What with the 15-hour time difference between us and South Korea, this involved staying up extremely late for a middle-aged person, and getting up extremely early, which explains why you may have seen me staggering around bleary-eyed in the greasy snack aisle at our local Safeway, looking for food items that can be hastily prepared without missing any of the heart-tugging moments on our big-screen TV.

For me, the way it works during the Games is I remain motionless on the couch, using my Jedi mind-control powers to switch between the multitude of channels showing a multitude of events until a commercial starts, at which time I will set a land-speed record sprinting into the kitchen to prepare a grilled cheese sandwich before racing back to the couch in time to watch the start of women’s ski-cross.

By the way, Canada won gold and silver in the women’s ski-cross, which, to a viewer such as myself, appears to be a mix of Alpine skiing, roller derby, NASCAR, professional wrestling and the bobsleigh event, only marginally more dangerous. During these Games, two Canadian Olympic ski-cross athletes ended up in hospital after grisly crashes on the track.

I love the Games so much that I am even reluctant to leave the couch during the cheesy commercials, especially that Toyota ad that follows the incredible journey of Canadian skier Lauren Woolstencroft, the eight-time Paralympic gold medallist. (You know, the one that shows a nurse holding a newborn baby missing her left arm and both legs, and onscreen text informs you her odds of winning a gold medal are one in 997,500,000, but the odds keep ticking down until you see her full-grown and triumphantly crossing the finish line at the Games. OK, I get misty-eyed just thinking about that one.)

I am not ashamed to admit (Editor’s note: actually Doug is a little ashamed, but he won’t admit it) that I am a sucker for the emotional stories that play out — at least in viewers’ minds — during the Olympic spectacle.

Yes, I am talking about Canadian ice-dancing heroes Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, whose jaw-dropping, achingly sexy gold-medal skate was The Moment of the Games for even hockey-obsessed Canadians such as myself.

And just like everyone else in the world who became infatuated with this pair after watching them become the most decorated skaters in Olympic history, I desperately wanted them to be a couple, as we can see from this conversation I had with my wife:

Me (gasping): “OHMYGAWD! How can they NOT be hopelessly in love. I’m pretty sure I am.”

My wife (rolling her eyes): “You know they’re just friends, right?”

Me (weeping openly): “Take that back! You can’t be a (bad word) Canadian. Show me your passport!”

But not long after claiming ice-dance gold with Tessa, there was Scott, captured live on TV, in the crowd watching Canada’s women’s hockey team battle the U.S. for gold, and doing the most Canadian thing imaginable — yelling at the referees over a horrifically bad call, all the while clutching a cold beer in one hand and not spilling a drop.

Scott (onscreen, visibly shouting): “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WAKE UP! BOOOOO!!!”

My wife (making moony faces at the TV): “Oh, I LOVE him even more now!!!”

The point is, these were amazing Games, especially for those of us who rarely left the couches in our dens. We didn’t win in events where we thought the gold was our birthright. But we won in events that some of us had never heard of before. And everyone was brave in that not-in-your-face Canadian way. That’s the way it always goes.

Regardless of whether they won a medal or flamed out the attempt, all our Olympians were heroic just for showing up, just for giving their all in sports they’ve devoted the better part of their young lives too.

And, as an aging couch potato, I’m left with a hole in my heart that I’m not sure even Netflix can fill. But I’ll find something to eat up those empty hours in front of the TV. For starters, I’m going to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Go ahead, time me!

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca