A spectacular Opening Ceremonies in Beijing’s “Bird Nest”

Like the top of this blog says, Bill Ward is not in China. It’s the first time I haven’t been at the Summer Olympics since Barcelona 1992.

Until now, I wasn’t too upset about missing these Olympics in Beijing. As you’ve probably heard, newspapers are experiencing a difficult transition into the digital world and spending thousands of dollars to send a reporter to the Games is not a good idea on so many levels when you are fighting for your life as an industry.

And then there’s the 20 hours of flying to get from Tampa to the opposite side of the world, the three weeks away from your family and friends, the dorm-like accommodations and the feeling of being part of something that has become over-commercialized, politicized and tainted by drugs. And, of course, there’s those 18-hour work days (I’m not exaggerating, honest) covering the Games.

But there’s something about watching the Opening Ceremonies on TV that makes me feel pretty sad right now. Much like the Athens Games, they were a beautiful spectacle and, for a few hours anyway, transcended the bad stuff that inevitably creep into the Games (except when Taiwan’s athletes were not allowed to carry their own flag into the stadium and when North and South Korea once again were not walking together).

After these Opening Ceremonies, there will no doubt be moments that will live on forever in Olympic history. I’ve witnessed a few in person—Michael Johnson’s 200-meter world record in the 1996 Atlanta Games, the swim by Eric “The Eel” Moussambani” in the 2000 Sydney Games, when he finished the 100-meter freestyle about twice as slow as anyone else in the prelims, and the five-set match Tampa’s Mardy Fish played against Chilean Nicolás Massú, who late in the gold medal match ducked into the locker room and emerged surprisingly refreshed and went on to defeat Fish.

Maybe even more memorable are the peope I’ve met in each country I’ve visited at the Olympics. The Aussies, Greeks, Atlantans—were all great hosts. So were the Winter Olympic cities of Salt Lake and Turin.

Now, whatever happens in these Olympics—good or bad—I won’t be there. And there’s no guarantee I’ll ever get to cover the Olympics again. Now that’s a bummer to think about. :(