Growing up in the 1970s in the United States, a staple of Saturday afternoon television for me was ABC's Wide World of Sports. The show actually debuted in 1961, with host Jim McKay, and regularly featured a presentation of one, or more, 'lesser-known' sports. Thinking now, I may be able to credit at least some part of my sports fandom - and in particular, my international sports fandom - to regularly watching it. The show often featured skiing, figure skating, tennis, and more global events.

But what really stands out to me in my memory is the show's intro, featuring the line, "the thrill of victory...and the agony of defeat", used to describe the drama of the upcoming sports content (check the video link at the bottom of this article). And, indelibly linked to the "agony of defeat" was the image of a ski jumper crashing down and off the hill.

Well, that ski jumper was Yugoslavian Vinko Bogataj, and the mishap was from a competition in Oberstdorf, West Germany in March of 1970. And luckily for sports television, ABC picked the footage as its go-to example of the potential disaster of sport.

Bogataj, interviewed years later, hadn't initially realized his would-be viral fame in the U.S. He had suffered a concussion and an ankle injury in the accident, but returned to competition a couple of months afterward. At the show's 20th anniversary event in New York, Bogataj began to sense his surprising place in sports history when boxing legend Muhammad Ali asked him for an autograph.
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Eventually a painter, Bogataj ​the ski jumper may not have won that 1970 competition, but he did earn a memorable place in sports history cherished by legions of sports fans. Wide World of Sports, with its Bogataj clip in use to its end, finished in 1998. That image of 'defeat' is immediately what I remember most of the show.

​Oberstdorf remains a prominent ski jumping and flying competitive destination. ​

I admit, I am usually bit delinquent in staying current with Olympic-themed books and film, but I have rather recently made a commitment to catch-up. Progress! Better late than never! Right?

So...over the holidays (told you I'm running behind), I finally caught up with two books that had long burned holes in my to-read pile. Both struck me as key pieces for my Olympic fandom, and I'm thrilled that I finally experienced them.

I'll share some quick thoughts:

​Running for My Life (Lopez Lomong and Mark A. Tabb, 2012)

Subtitled One Lost Boy's Journey from the Killing Fields of Sudan to the Olympic Games, Running for my Life is just that: the telling of U.S. runner Lopez Lomong's dramatic life ahead of his second Olympic appearance at London 2012.

​By 2012, the general story of Lomong's background was well-known. Born in South Sudan, he and his family were subject to the brutal civil war there which displaced countless people. At age six, Lomong was kidnapped from his village, and after escaping militants, spent ten years at a refugee camp as a "Lost Boy" in Kenya. In 2001, he was selected for resettlement in New York state, and he eventually took advantage of his running talent through high school and college, and onto the national level. Earning U.S. citizenship in 2007, he earned a spot on Team USA for Beijing 2008.

But Running for My Life is an autobiography, so we encounter this story in Lomong's own words and personal retrospection. And his telling of dramatic moments is poignant and inspiring. It's harrowing, to read his of his experience yet throughout, he maintains a positivity that belies any readers' discomfort. His charming wide-eyed-ness comes into best view as he settles, at times awkwardly, into a new life in the States and with a welcoming host family. From there, life is quick...his running prowess allowing him to integrate better than perhaps he would have otherwise. 

Lomong eventually finished 10th in the 5,000 meters at the London Olympics. Since, he's added four national championships and two NACA Championships, and he is still active in running and humanitarian work.

His story is a powerful one, and an important one to consider when seeing the United States - and its national team  - as a melting pot. His is a unique story, and his success is unique piece of Team USA's fabric.

The Olympic Games: The First Thousand Years (M.I. Finley and H.W. Pieket, 2012)

 Also from 2012 - although a republication of a 1976 edition (!) - The Olympic Games is a fascinating review of the origins of the Games, looking back to Ancient Greece.

Certainly, any true Olympics fan will want to be familiar with its origin story. And while The Olympic Games is a scholarly work, it's definitely readable. Reviewing a period from 776 B.C. to A.D. 261, the authors take us through the place and prestige of the Olympics at the time, juxtaposed with context of what was happening sociopolitically during these years.

​Understanding the Olympics as one of four Panhellenic Games, including the Nemean, Pythian, and Isthmian, is a revelation. All four Games were held regularly, in fixed locations - the Olympics in Olympia - and the intervening years helped the Greeks measure time. Athletes, in general rule Greek and of means, routinely participated in multiple Games. Surprisingly or not, sponsorship and politics played a role as years went on and popularity grew, challenging some modern romantic notion of the ancient purity of competition. The Olympics, the largest of the Panhellenic Games, lasted into Roman rule, but eventually fell into disfavor.

Details abound in The Olympic Games, and fans should revel in the descriptive accounts of the competition and its respect. One aspect interestingly filled out is the legendary Olympic truce. Rather than a complete stoppage of war, it's more true that warring parties would allow athlete travel, and would respect a no-battle zone around competition sites.

It's a fascinating look at the times, and what the Games are thought to have been like, and have meant to the populace then. I'll be revisiting this book often as I continue to consider the modern Games.

Am finally getting to jot down some thoughts on two documentaries I watched recently, both featuring Olympic sports, and both now available in the United States via Amazon Prime streaming. Watching the two in close order elicited conflicting emotions on being an Olympic fan.

Carolina Marin: I Can Because I Think I Can (2020)
​(book version available, too!)

Filmed before the Covid-19 pandemic rescheduled Tokyo 2020, Carolina Marin offers a look at the challenges the Olympic badminton champion faces in defending her title.

Entering the Rio 2016 tournament as the number one seed, Marin became the first non-Asian player to win an Olympic women's singles gold, and became a Spanish hero. The series picks up in early 2019, after Marin has won her fourth European title and third world championship. Tearing her anterior cruciate ligament in a late January match, her plans for a second Olympic gold are in jeopardy. Carolina Marin looks back at how Marin got started in the sport and made leaps in success with her coach, Fernando Rivas, and follows her as she works to regain competitiveness by the end of the year. As 2020 begins, she is presented with a major new challenge to her focus, as her father has a coma-inducing accident.

Presented in four episodes, Carolina Marin is a reminder of why we root for athletes - their humanity, their struggles, their passion and drive. Marin is a unique champion, and one can't help but root for her as she works to reclaim her top perch in the game. Her on-going story is a prime example of the inspiration Olympic athletes provide.

On the other hand...

Tainted Blood: The Untold Story of the 1984 Olympic Blood Doping Scandal (2017)

Filmmaker Jill Yesko's documentary on the United States' 1984 cycling team is from 2017, but surprisingly I only encountered it a few months ago. It's a sobering reality check on what can, and does, happen to elite competition when doping opportunities tempt.

The U.S. hadn't won an Olympic cycling medal since Stockholm 1912, and the Los Angeles 1984 Games presented an exciting opportunity to stop the drought. And stop the drought, indeed...the U.S. came away with nine medals across both road and track events.

Turns out, much of the team's overall success came from now-banned blood transfusions. This was brought to light shortly after the Games, but Yesko takes a deep dive into the how and why, interviewing former athletes and team officials on the details. While not strictly prohibited at the time of the Games, the secretive practice of blood transfusions was certainly widely viewed as unethical, and possibly unsafe. How it occurred at the less-than-upfront hands of team leaders is the heart of the Tainted Blood.

It's a depressing reality check on the willingness to find an easy way to success when offered. And, more depressing to know that the problem still exists. Cycling's track record of clean competition remained poor throughout much of the following years, and today, sports of all stripes still face the challenge of ensuring fairness. As a sports fan, I much prefer the world view of hard work-equaling-success that Carolina Marin​ offers.

Serena Williams' recent Australian Open run certainly inspired talk on her status as a Greatest Of All Time (G.O.A.T.) contender. While I generally don't pay much attention to such discussions - too many variables, such different eras to be fair - the chatter inspired me to revisit the HBO Sports documentary mini-series Being Serena from 2018.

Produced in part with Williams' business partner IMG Entertainment, Being Serena was never going to be an in-depth, critical look at one of history's greatest athletes. But it is a revealing one. Too often we see a star athlete or celebrity as one dimensional, as just the person on the court or on stage. Williams has surely been subject to this - having seen her win 23 Grand Slam singles titles, 14 Grand Slam doubles titles (out of 14 finals!), 7 WTA Tour Championship titles, and 4 Olympic gold medals, we've been lulled into a sense of her invincibility. But Being Serena shows that Williams is human, after all, perhaps even setting us up to temper expectations going forward.

Being Serena shows us Williams facing real world, outside of tennis, moments from a roughly 15-month period starting with her early 2017 pregnancy announcement to child birth, to subsequent grave medical concerns, and her wedding. There is a refreshing quality seeing her face these life events. She has legitimate concerns aside from the playing court, and she faces them with as any of us would - at times emotional and vulnerable. No matter that the documentary comes across as too polished for some critics. What we do see is earnest and sincere.

Seeing her in this human light actually does support Williams as the G.O.A.T. Coming back to elite competition, in serious contention to build upon her 23 Grand Slam titles...who else has been that strong to come back from such a complicated birth and perilous recovery so well? It's a unique, daunting challenge fit for a fierce competitor. Note when her husband Alexis jokingly suggests their daughter's potential as a Grand Slam winner years in the future, Williams is whip-quick with a "not if I'm still playing" retort. Brash, sure...but it should not be unexpected from someone as career-determined as she is.

Between her return in May 2018 and today, she's made four Grand Slam finals. Four! Never mind that she hasn't won one of them, just having the tenacity to make it through to four finals - and this last Australian semifinals - would be a beyond outstanding record for anyone. And she's largely done it on her terms, juggling motherhood and marriage while on the road. It's a unique challenge, it should noted, to female athletes.

​She doesn't need a 24th title to justify her legacy (though I am rooting for it). The fact that she's still sharing her tennis with us should a joy. In retrospective, Being Serena helps us to appreciate just how special a competitor Williams is. Here's hoping she provides us more highlights still.

It's an odd start to a biographical film when a disclaimer announces that "All characters in this film are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons [...] is purely coincidental and unintended." That, and having a full 2 minutes + on a pre-opening credits scroll of distribution and production partners. But maybe that second bit is a quirk of Indian cinema, or at least of Indian cinema streamed in the United States (in this case, on Amazon Prime).

Once things get underway, Gold is a fairly conventional sports success story, inspired by India's 1949 gold medal-winning team at London 1948. Set amidst the turbulent times of India's emerging political break from Great Britain's rule, the real world facts are, after three consecutive gold medals representing British India and an eight-year gap in the Olympic schedule due to World War II, India wins its first Olympic title as an independent nation in 1948. And that win - in London - comes at the expense of Great Britain itself, finally reappearing at the Games after a 20 years absence. By the way, India would also win the next two Olympic titles, cementing its place in dynastic legends of the Games.

Along the way, there are requisite obstacles - Nazis, the British, sociopolitical turmoil, bureaucrats, and team infighting. Tapan Das, a fictional character, overcomes a lackluster reputation to build a winning team that lifts the spirit of the new nation.

Gold has a nice look, filmed crisply and colorfully. And, it is certainly refreshing to see a movie devoted to such a lesser-known (in the U.S.) Olympic sport. One can accept most of the film's artistic and dramatic license on the specific details of the path to Olympic gold - remember that opening disclaimer noted above. But Gold really presses the patience with India's gold medal match, presenting a score of 4-3 over Great Britain - in the rain! barefoot! -  when in actuality they won in a pedestrian 4-0. 

If you can look past all the "creative liberties", it's a light and uplifting couple of hours, especially for an Olympic sports-obsessed viewer...and one that respects the sport's status in India.

p.s. Who doesn't appreciate a couple of musical Bollywood interludes?