“Don’t want to go through that again.”
“What are you talking about, the Winter Olympics here in 2002 were fantastic, one of the best experiences ever in the history of Salt Lake City.”
“Hated ‘em.”
“Loved ‘em.”
Overheard a conversation — no, an argument — the other day between two guys — friends, I think — either sitting on a city park bench or in the far reaches of my imagination, not really sure. They were going at it over the fact that Utah this week pried, if that’s the right word, another Winter Olympic Games out of the International Olympic Committee, this time in 2034, minus the misunderstandings, minus the bribes, minus the corruption, minus the ridicule and stigma of the first time around, with the possibility that Salt Lake could become a future part of a regular Olympic city rotation.
“2034, and beyond? Might not even be alive by then,” the one said.
“If you are, it’ll be a sight worth having stayed alive to see,” said the other.
“Nah. Too much hassle, too much traffic, too many people, people from other places speaking … you know, other languages. This is our town here, our streets, our canyons, our mountains, our slopes, our ice, our fry sauce, our quirkiness, our one-sided politics, our inversion.”
“C’mon. I’ve never witnessed downtown SLC so awake at all hours, it was hopping at 1, 2, 3 in the morning. For 17 days and nights, it put the ‘F’ in ‘un.’”
(Ryan Galbraith | The Salt Lake Tribune) Pete Wilson from Summit, N.J., takes a swig from his beer Sunday, Feb. 10, 2002, at Peaks Ice Arena in Provo as Austria and Germany compete in men’s hockey in the 2002 Winter Olympics. Today was the first time beer was for sale on a Sunday in Provo. “It's not a real beer though,” said Wilson, referring to Utah's 3.2% alcohol content.
“Parking was atrocious.”
“There was, indeed, a whole lot of healthy walking going on.”
“Got sick of everybody dressing like — what was it, Canadians or Norwegians or members of the French Foreign Legion? So many berets, berets here, there, everywhere. I know a guy living in Sandy who grew up in Panguitch, who was raised herding cattle and moving sprinkler pipe, a countrified cowboy who said ‘was’ when he should have said ‘were,’ who wouldn’t use any profanity, but used ‘fetch’ and ‘frickin’ all the time, who once told me he threw an ‘apple car’ out the ‘core window,’ who knew more about tractors then he ever did about any of life’s fineries, who wore a frickin’ beret for two weeks during the games, and a month after them. He looked ridiculous, but thought he was all sophisticated in that getup.”
“It was the pin collecting and trading that I got into and that was a gas. Meeting folks from all over, buying and swapping hockey pins, skiing pins, skating pins, pins with moose heads on them, pins from Sweden, pins featuring foamy mugs of German beer, pins with an American flag on them. It was all the rage.”
“Wasn’t there a news story after the games ended about the thousands of condoms they found in and around the Olympic village, where all the athletes were … um, sleeping, trying, apparently, to keep one another warm during their time there?”
“I was more fixated on the athletes’ skillful performances on the ice and snow in their respective sports. Man, don’t you remember Sarah Hughes skating? Chris Witty speedskating? Katrin Apel biathloning? Tristan Gale skeletoning? Simon Ammann ski jumping? Martin Brodeur goaltending? Kelly Clark snowboarding? And all the rest?”
“I remember, like, none of those. I do remember at the medals plaza Scott Stapp singing ‘With Arms Wide Open,’ striking classic rock star poses as Creed’s front man.”
“You probably remember Bobsled Costas?”
“Was that the Olympics when his one pink eye was oozing and then both of them were?”
“No, that was Sochi in 2014, and Bob’s efforts there were nothing short of heroic. He was an American hero.”
Picabo Street flies down the women's downhill course at Snowbasin Saturday afternoon to a first place finish during the first day of practice for the women. The women's first day of practice that was scheduled on Friday was cancelled due to bad weather. 02/09/2002, 1:42:47 AM
“I do remember American hero Picabo Street in 2002 finishing 16th in her final ski race. That was disappointing. I remember her saying, ‘I’m over it.’”
“Do you remember Wayne Gretzky’s joy at the Canadians winning gold in men’s ice hockey? The Great One was thrilled, and so was I. Just like I was thrilled when the 1980 U.S. ‘Miracle On Ice’ hockey team lit the torch during the opening ceremony at Rice-Eccles Stadium. Cool.”
“What I remember more clearly is French skating judge Marie Reine Le Gougne throwing in with the Russians, initially screwing the resplendent Canadian skating team of Jamie Sale and David Pelletier out of a gold medal. Luckily, later they were granted, in a ceremonial re-do, gold medals of their own. That whole thing was nice, but weird.”
“So much soaring athleticism at those games, right here in our backyard.”
“You mean athletes like the dudes in the luge who plop down on what amounts to a cookie sheet, who spread their bodies over a sled like cream cheese on a bagel, and slide down an ice track to glory? Athletes like the curlers who slide stones across the ice while teammates sweep the surface like Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Billy cleaning out the family kitchen?”
“Lighten up. There are always the heartwarming stories of the future, like the ones of the past — such as at the 2002 games, when Jimmy Shea won a gold medal in skeleton with a picture of his father, Jack, who had won a gold medal years earlier in speedskating, tucked inside his helmet. Jack had died just weeks before the games started in an auto accident. And the story about American snowboarder Chris Klug, who two years earlier had undergone a liver transplant, winning a bronze medal on Feb. 15, which happened to be National Organ Donor Awareness Day.”
(Francisco Kjolseth | The Salt Lake Tribune) Members of the United States Olympic team carry an American flag that was damaged in the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks during the opening ceremony of the 2002 Winter Olympics at Rice-Eccles Stadium in Salt Lake City, Friday, Feb. 8, 2002.
“I get it. I just wonder about stuff like security. I recall the lengths to which officials went to keep the 2002 games safe, what with the world watching just months after 9/11. The world will be watching again, at least the part of it that cares about sports done on ice and snow, in 2034. That’s a lot of risk and responsibility that falls on the locals here in Utah, even with help from the feds. Some of the Olympic venues last time around looked like prison encampments, complete with walls and gates covered in razor wire. If anything horrible were to happen, Salt Lake City would get the blame — and the ridicule.”
“And if proper measures are taken, it will get the credit, like it did last time, for putting on a tremendous event. Utah’s volunteers were as much a part of that success as anyone, and everyone knew it, even if they were decked out in those gaudy jackets and, in some instances, yeah, the berets, too.”
“There were 2,399 athletes at those games. And there were something like five times that many used condoms found. Makes me understand better those games’ motto: ‘Light the Fire Within.’”
“They were lit, all right. Those Winter Olympic Games were lit.”
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