On the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games

And so it is done. In 14 short days, the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games have come and gone. Vancouver has returned to its former level of activity. There are less people on the streets, those streets are mostly no longer closed to vehicle traffic, and the SkyTrain is no longer bursting at the seams. Just like in Ottawa, there was a budget announced in Vancouver. It's back to business, isn't it?

Well, no. For all of us who were involved in the Games, one way or another, whether through volunteering, participating or spectating, 2010 will be a memorable year. Vancouver and Whistler will leave a mark in our hearts and looking back on the events of Feb 12 to 28 will rekindle our passion for the sports, our country and the experience.

My personal experience was fantabulous. See? It was so fantastic that I can only describe it by using a fake word.

Despite our early stumbles, the staff at The Whistler Sliding Centre recovered admirably well. We gave it our 110% and put out some of the best quotes of the Games. You probably unknowingly read them in your sliding sports recaps. They were better than the cliché I just used, I promise.

Thanks to the wonderful support of our Olympic News Service (ONS) Supervisor and Sports Writer, we - my co-reporters and I - learned more than just the basics of Luge, Skeleton and Bobsleigh. By the final Runs and Heats of the competition, we were able to have knowledgeable conversations with the real, paid reporters in the Mixed Zone. Sure, some of them were rookies like us, but we could even keep up with the best beat writers out there. We made predictions, comments and suggestions. We were able to ask poignant questions and understand the ones posed by other reporters. We were even able to understand the athletes' answers, and better yet, tell them apart! This proved to be quite useful during the Four-Man Bobsleigh event, and our studying served us well.

In the end, working for ONS was a work contract like any other. But it wasn't. To echo the athletes, it's just another race except it's the Olympics. I made friends for life (I hope!), invaluable contacts on both sides of the fence (in the journalism world and in the Olympic family), and I learned. I learned from sports reporters, from ONS staff, from fellow volunteers. I learned from the athletes, from their responses, from their races.

And I laughed! When we were exhausted and hungry, we laughed. When we were cold and wet, we laughed. When we were done for the day and more than ready for bed, we laughed.

Sure, we had our ups and downs. We got frustrated and argumentative. We disagreed with each other and sometimes were quite vocal about our dislikes. But that's just part of the job. It's part of the stress of working long back-to-back days, part of the pressure of always being on the ball, part of the difficulties a live sporting event experience. And I loved it. Because overall, we laughed.

The best part was the bubble. It was also the worst part. You get so into your sport, into your venue, into your athletes that you just can't absorb any additional information. Medals and crashes in other sports? Nope, haven't seen them. A snow storm in Montreal? Nope, haven't heard about it. Haven't read that article. Haven't spoken to my family and friends in a few days. Haven't had time to read status updates on Facebook. Yet the only reason I found out about the snow was because people were complaining about it in their status. But don't ask me what people were tweeting about. I could barely catch up on emails and direct responses!

The bubble is what pushed me to escape Whistler as soon as my last shift was done. Quickly home to pack and catch the bus. Nothing against this snowy, wintery Olympic town. The atmosphere was fantastic, the people were super friendly, full of fun and enthusiasm. And it's not that I didn't want to celebrate the end with my co-workers... I just needed to get out of the bubble. To further the analogy, it's like when you blow a bubblegum to the limit and it's about to burst and you suck it back a little just in time to avoid it embarrassingly covering your face. That's how you feel at the end of an intensive gig.

Luckily, I was able to catch some of the Olympic fever in Vancouver as well. I came back to Van City when I had a couple of days off and toured some of the attractions, though I was not at all interested in wasting my day waiting in line. The beautiful spontaneous Inukshuk wall between Science World/Rusky Dom and GM Place/Canada Hockey Place is the kind of passion that turns me on, and I loved just basking in the energy of the host city.

I also felt the pulse of the city on Feb 27-28, thanks to my speedy return from Whistler. Crowded streets and spontaneous "Oh Canada" chants, red and white at every turn of the head. I watched the Gold Medal Men's Hockey Game with my family, in their living room, sharing simultaneous heart-attacks with hockey fans from all over the globe. When we went out for dinner later that night you could still feel the electricity in the air and the high, soaring spirits of the inhabitants.

And then, just like the sudden onset of my post-ONS, post-Whistler blues, the city crashed. Call it a passion-low. The flame was extinguished, it was done, it was over, and we all had to face the facts and go back to our normal, boring everyday lives. Transit that's not as regular. NHL games with predictable intermission interviews. And thankfully, streets that are much easier to navigate without a gazillion people crawling along at a snail's pace.

I'm glad I took a few extra days to experience the city's true face. And guess what? Even sans Olympics, I still love it. Don't worry, Vancouver. I might be leaving you on Thursday but I'll be back before you know it!

Stay tuned... I should be posting pictures to Flickr soon!

On the Olympic Torch

Today, I had the great pleasure of seeing the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Torch in full flame.

Wait, that doesn't sound nearly exciting enough.

I SAW THE TORCH!!!

It was very windy, which made it feel very cold, but I was bundled up in some of my favourite winter gear and waited patiently with a big smile on my face... Along with a whole bunch of school kids and quite a few adults, given the 12:49 ETA of the flame.

The atmosphere was electric. The excitement was almost palpable. The kids were chanting eagerly, from the Montreal-favourite "Olé" song to "Go Canada Go!" to their class number, in competition with other classes, of course.

The sponsors, Coca-Cola and RBC, distributed mini-tambourines, flags, and those blow-up noisemakers that have become so common at sporting events and every time a car drove by, whether it was a random commuter or a cop, the crowd became feverish.

Finally, the relay vehicles -which all have cool "Flame 7", "Torch 5", "Relay 4" style license plates - announced that the torch would be showing up in 5 minutes and the crowd-warmer RBC and Coke trucks came by.

Then, someone standing near me yelled out excitedly, "I can see the flame!" And the crowd went wild!

It was such a spectacular moment. Being surrounded by all these strangers, united in our quest to see the flame, to be part of something bigger than us. Hopes and dreams for Canada's success in the upcoming games - and personal achievements too - silently filled the air as we all got our cameras ready and started waving.

And then, I saw his face. I don't know who the first Kirkland torchbearer was, but his face told me everything I needed to know. The pride, the excitement, the joy in his eyes and in his smile was reflected in all of us, young and old. For that one moment, I felt what he felt. For that little bit of time, I felt like an Olympian athlete: proud, excited, accomplished.

And the joy... I don't think anyone could stop smiling. Some people ran after the flame, others stayed and gushed with their friends... My camera battery died due to the cold so I stayed put, but it was worth it. For those quick glimpses of the flame - which at times almost looked like it was going to blow out due to the wind - it was worth it all.

Now, I can really feel the Olympic Spirit. I'm excited, I'm pumped and... I'm going to Vancouver! :D

Losing the Right to Play

Those of you who read my blog regularly know that I'm kinda into sports. If you've payed attention, you also know I hope for nothing but the best for the world, and so, support many good-doing initiatives.

One of my favourite charities, understandably, is Right to Play. Sound familiar? Zdeno Chara just raised $24,000 dollars for the organization by winning the Hardest Shot competition at the 2009 NHL All Star Game this past weekend in Montreal. Some of your other favourite athletes might have mentioned it in an interview at some point.

RTP combines education with fun by helping children learn through sport. Their aim, as per their website, is "creating a healthier and safer world for children through the power of sport and play." Now who wouldn't love that?

Apparently, the International Olympic Committee doesn't think that's good enough anymore. Since 2000, RTP has been allowed access into the Althlete's Village at Olympic Games to speak to the athletes and raise awareness for the cause - hoping to engage them into becoming Right to Play Ambassadors. These ambassadors help spread the word about RTP and its goals, via conferences, fundraising, and trips to Third World countries (that are occasionally covered by various media partners).

Since the IOC decided not to renew it's Memorandum of Understanding with Right to Play, the charity finds itself lacking a primary means of recruitment and fundraising. This is a huge blow, a gazillion steps back from all the progress it has accomplished in the past few years. Where in 2004 nearly no one was aware of its existence, RTP is now highly respected and recognized around the world as an organization of value, thanks to Olympic athletes like Clara Hughes, Chantal Petitclerc, Kyle Shewfelt, Adam Van Koeverden, Donovan Bailey, Beckie Scott, Hayley Wickenheiser, Catriona Le May Doan, so many more...

The list is endless - and that's just from the Canadian website. Whole sports teams and leagues, as well as corporations, have officially partnered with Right to Play.

The problem, according to this article published by the Lethbridge Herald, is that the IOC wants to focus on its own similar programs. It still supports Right to Play's activities though. Isn't that's sweet?

Apparently, the whole controversy boils down to, what else? Money! It's a sponsorship issue.

Gary Mason of the Globe and Mail writes that when the Vancouver Organizing Committee learned that RTP had managed to sign a major sponsorship deal with Mitsubishi Motor Sales - which, if you're keeping track, is a major competitor to Vancouver Olympics' major sponsor General Motors - VANOC and GM were "worried that Mitsubishi was going to use its sponsorship with Right to Play as a way of getting Olympic exposure."

A deal of sorts was struck between VANOC and Right to Play, whereas Mitsubishi's name wouldn't appear on promotional material distributed during the Games or on the RTP website during that two week period. But somehow, the IOC got involved and the final decision was a resounding "NO!"

There's no denying that this charity is legit and that it does accomplish good. In fact, its aims are truly allied with the IOC's, whose website says one of the goals of the Olympic movement is to "contribute to building a peaceful and better world by educating youth through sport practised without discrimination of any kind."

Wouldn't that goal be easier accomplished by associating with an organization like Right to Play? I think so.

However, complaining and trying to raise awareness about how wrong this brusque denial really is will not help Right to Play promote its message worldwide. Instead, as regular citizens of the world, all we can do is join the movement and hope for the best.

Help make the world a better place through Right to Play, click here to donate one time or once a month, whatever your budget can handle.

And don't forget! A donation makes a great gift!