The founder of the modern Olympic games, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, first stated the Olympic creed in 1896, and it is as much a cherished ideal today as it was more than a century ago: "The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part."
For the ten glorious days my three sons and I were privileged to attend the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics, I truly felt that, even though I was only a spectator, I was also "taking part." I realized my life-long dream to attend at least one Winter Olympics. Indeed, it may have been a dream that began, incredibly, on the very day I was born, February 15, 1952, during the VI Olympic Winter Games in Oslo, Norway, the day that Dick Button, then a 22-year-old Harvard senior, won the gold medal in men's figure skating.
So perhaps it was fate that brought me to Salt Lake City fifty years later to the day on a crisp afternoon in the Wasatch Mountains under a brilliant azure blue sky, far from my New England home, to celebrate, not only my birthday with my sons and numerous friends, but the bronze medal performance of another U.S. Olympian, Chris Klug, who was just as glad to be taking part as I was, no doubt more.
If February 15, 2002 brought a flood of emotions for me, I can only imagine what the day must have felt like for Klug, who was competing less than two years after a life-saving liver transplant, and, fittingly, just one day after the celebration of National Organ Donor Day. "Without the gift of the donor family, I wouldn't be here today. They're the real heroes," Klug told reporters. While he said he hoped his fame as the first organ transplant recipient to win an Olympic medal would "get families talking about organ donation," he said he never felt any pressure to win to make his ordeal worthwhile. He was just happy to be alive.
"I thought I was going to die waiting," Klug said of the days before his liver donor was found 19 months ago. "I was pretty scared, I wasn't thinking about snowboarding, or coming back and winning a bronze medal. I was just thinking about hoping to live, hanging out with my family and continuing with life as I know it." Even if he had not medalled, I know Chris Klug would have agreed with Baron Pierre de Coubertin that the most important thing in the Olympic games is not to win but to take part.
Chris's statements made me think about another Olympic champion, Jack Shea. Jack won a gold medal in speed skating seventy years earlier, almost to the day, during the 1932 Lake Placid Olympics. When Jack Shea competed at those Games, the worldwide economic depression did not make for ideal conditions in which to host an international sporting event, but the United States was determined to provide a respite from the troubles the world faced.
Seventy years later, in February of 2002, with Jack's grandson, Jimmy, scheduled to compete, the Salt Lake City Games were likewise being held at a time of uncertainty and turmoil, by a nation still traumatized by the events of September 11, at war with terrorists, and in economic recession, but similarly determined to go forward with the Games, to provide an oasis of calm, good sportsmanship and good feelings in a desert of negativity and doubt.
I always thought the goal of the Olympics was to create peace," Jack Shea said last March. "In a world such as we have today, with troubles all over, that should be of even higher priority." Given Jack's dedication to the highest ideals of sport, it is no wonder that, in 2000, U.S. Speed Skating created The Jack Shea Award, which symbolizes dedication to Olympic excellence, citizenship and the betterment of mankind through sport. The recipient must embody the values of sportsmanship, commitment, humility and perseverance; and inspires people of all ages to reach new heights and believe in their dreams. The first recipient was Jack Shea. The second recipient was Eric Heiden.
In January 2002, Jack shared with the media what his feelings would be to watch his grandson, Jimmy, participate in the 2002 Olympics: "The pride that's coming to me will be absolutely priceless." Sadly, as most everyone knows by now, Jack, who I had the privilege of being introduced to by a mutual dear friend, Lou Lockwood, last October in Lake Placid, lost his life at age 91 in a car crash just days before the Olympics. Four days before the Games began, on February 4, 2002, his alleged killer was being arraigned for murder for driving intoxicated, seventy years to the day after Jack read the Olympic Oath to the athletes assembled in his home town of Lake Placid for the III Winter Games.
"Medals and gold's and winning were not important," Jimmy told us after winning gold. What was important was doing it: doing what his granddad had done, doing what his father had done in Nordic Combined at the 1960 Olympics at Squaw Valley. Doing it, and doing your best. "That was all that mattered," said Jimmy. "My grandfather always felt it was not who won the gold; it was truly about bringing the world together in a peaceful setting".
A highlight for me while in Utah was to be able to just "hang out" with my family and all of the new families that I met. My sons and I were honored to be guests of Olympian and MomsTeam contributing writer, Angela Ruggiero [1], at the AT&T Friends and Family Center during our visit. During mealtimes at the Center I spent countless hours watching big-screen televisions showing all the various events live and talking with the parents and other family members of the U.S. athletes.
What I learned from every parent is that you cannot push an athlete into becoming an Olympian-it has to come from deep within. The athletes have to love the sport and the "taking part" credo Baron de Coubertin so eloquently and succinctly expressed in the Olympic Creed. Angela's mom, Karen, told me numerous times that "I never did much to encourage Angela to play hockey, she loved playing the game. There was no need to push her". Angela's younger sister Pamela was recently asked "are you jealous of Angela"? Pam simply answered, "No, she is doing what she loves, I am only jealous of all of her teammates who get to see her all of the time".
I spoke with free style skier Travis Mayer's mom Lynn Mayer, on the day that he won the silver medal, about the love of mogul skiing that her son has. She told me that Travis, 19, was not expected to medal at the Olympics but that the minute that he entered the start gate at the top of the mountain and saw the sea of spectators he beamed with joy. Later he told his parents that never has he seen a crowd larger than about 100 people to watch him perform. "I just love mogul skiing so much that I wanted to do the best that I could for my self and my country".
Jack didn't get to see his grandson, Jimmy, honor his legacy and the Olympic spirit by reading the Olympic Oath to the athletes at the Opening Ceremonies. Nor did he get the chance to experience the absolutely priceless pride that surely would have come had he been alive to see his grandson Jimmy ride his skeleton face first down an icy track (with a picture of his grandfather tucked in his helmet) to a gold medal on lucky Day Thirteen of the Games.
Jack Shea, by his words and through his life, embodied the Olympic ideal and passed along his values to his son and grandson. I hope his legacy and inspiration will give strength to our nation as we, as parents, coaches and youth sports administrators, struggle to find the proper balance between winning and participating for our children and grandchildren. I just know that, like me and my kids "hanging out" watching events at the various Salt Lake City venues and at the AT&T Center, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, Jack Shea, and Chris Klug's liver donor were "hanging out" in the fluffy clouds high above the majestic Wasatch Mountains during the Salt Lake City Games. I can just imagine them smiling and exchanging "high fives" at the accomplishments of countless athletes like Chris Klug and Jimmy Shea, who came to the Olympics not to win medals, but simply to fulfill a dream of competing and to uphold the Olympic creed: To take part.
Links:
[1] https://momsteam.com/angela-ruggiero/angela-ruggiero-personal-reflections-on-her-retirement