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 Nodar Kumaritashvili

As you have no doubt heard by now, there was a tragic accident at Men's Singles Luge training at the Whistler Sliding Centre on Friday.

21-year old Georgian athlete Nodar Kumaritashvili slid off his sled and off the track, hitting a solid post. When it happened, I was in the Mixed Zone. I didn't not personally see the incident, but I heard a disturbance. The reporters who were watching the live footage on the big screen exclaimed in surprise and distress.

Hours after it was all over, after the Opening Ceremonies, after a comforting dinner with some of my co-workers and lighting some candles at the Olympic rings in Whistler Village, I came home and turned on the TV. It was still all over the news. As well as a soldier's death in Afghanistan and a young woman's death in Ontario. It was a tough night for Canada.

I also posted a few stories on the incident. One on juggling being a reporter and being a human being. One on the balance between reporting the news and exploiting someone's death.

The latter got a lot of comments on my Facebook page, and most people agreed that the footage of the crash leading to Nodar's death should not have been showed. However, they disagreed on the degree to which the death should have been reported. I would like to share the comment I wrote in response to theirs.

It is worth noting that this was my third comment on the story. The first explained how the Olympic Broadcast Service cut the feed of the crash as soon as it happened, but CTV, ABC and other networks aired the full crash footage. CTV stopped airing the actual crash once it became clear that Nodar had passed away. ABC not only showed the full crash, they also aired a picture of his bloody face, receiving CPR before being put in the ambulance.

My second comment referred to the idea that people "need to know" and the media being the ones to deliver that information to keep people informed, though I didn't agree with airing the full footage and said that if someone was truly compelled to watch it, they could be pointed to it online.

Commentators on the post talked about conscience, the morbid interest we have in death - something we can't understand, on ratings and money, on having limits and respect and not airing something if you're "struggling" with the decision, on family and friends having to see it over and over again, and on how the incident airing live could not have been prevented but networks would never air the footage of someone being shot to death.

Without further ado, here is my long-winded response to all these concerns and comments. It is my form of therapy and sharing it with you will make it easier for me to deal with this horrific incident, put it behind me, and enjoy the rest of the Olympic Games.

There was no way of knowing what would happen live, so that's not up for discussion. I personally don't think that it should have aired completely, but if it hadn't, I and other reporters who are covering the story would have seen it and wouldn't have been able to understand what happened.
That doesn't mean that I would have put it on a broadcast. Like I said, I would have aired up until the sled started slipping, and cut it there.

An article doesn't work for TV, unfortunately, and having an anchor on cam for over a minute describing the incident doesn't work either.

There are rules in Canada - and journalistic ethics - that prevent the showing of someone's death on TV and it should have stayed that way. If there was any indication at all that Nodar had passed away (which there was - one reporter I talked to who saw the crash live (on the venue screen) said right away that he thought Nodar might be dead), then you shouldn't show the moment of death. It's a lack of respect, it's unnecessary, and it's gruesome.

Ratings shouldn't matter in this case. What if his family and/or friends had been watching and this was how they heard/learned about the death?

Similarly, nothing serious should have been tweeted/FB about the incident until the family was notified and the IOC confirmed the death. Reporting that there was a major crash is one thing. Putting it out there that he's dead when there hasn't been a confirmation is unacceptable.

Yes, journos want to get the story and get it first, but at some point, humanity has to step in. Just as there are embargo rules on deaths in military zones, there should be embargo rules applied to ALL deaths.

As for having it online, I don't think it should be advertised, but human beings can't help but be curious and want to see it for themselves to believe it, even if the footage is behind a gazillion disclaimers - people tend to ignore those. In this case, competition and ratings did take over, but before any networks put the OBS footage online, some people had apparently already put it on YouTube. That's gross and it pisses me off.

I was there, I heard the scrapping of the sled and the initial exclamation from those who saw it happen. I felt the moment of shock, when we were all frozen in our understanding and realization of what had and may have happened. Then, someone sprung into action and decided to head down to the crash site. By then, Nodar was already being moved into the ambulance. Some reporters saw more than I did, and photographers captured some gruesome images. I don't blame them, that's human curiosity. You do want comes natural, and taking the shot is what photographers do naturally.

I saw Nodar's feet as he was put into the ambulance. That was enough for me. When I saw the crash footage later, and how still Nodar had been, there was no doubt in my mind that he died instantly. The networks should have come to the same realization and decided NOT to air the footage.

Nodar Kumaritashvili, rest in peace. Here's a prayer for your soul and the quick healing of all our hearts. May we remember only the positives from your life and may your legacy make your favourite sport safer for all. I hope you left this world full of joy and the thrill of doing what you like the most, not fear or desperation.

My condolences to the whole Olympic family.

On Whistler

Yes, you read right.

I am now in Whistler after a volunteer here dropped out. My job title is the same - Olympic News Service Reporter - but the environment is completely different.

For one, it actually looks like winter here. I'd kinda forgotten how it felt to walk in the snow. Thankfully, I did pack my super warm snow boots. Unfortunately, I left behind all my layers/skiing clothes because there was no reason to pack them given that I wouldn't have time to make it to this mountain.

I had a wonderful time at the Main Press Centre. The team I worked with was fantastic, my editor in chief was amazing, and the venue was gorgeous. Sure it took me 2h to get to downtown Vancouver, and then 2h to get back, but staying with my family made up for it all. I do miss them, but I'll be seeing them for a few days before I fly back to Montreal.

Being at a sports venue is amazing. You really get to know the athletes, the crew, your co-workers... You get submerged in the environment, the venue, the sport. You're in a little bubble for the duration of the Olympic Games, which is both a good and bad thing: you become an expert in your field, just from being surrounded by it all the time, but you also miss out on some of the other things that are going on.

Still, by checking other Olympic news regularly and taking the time to go out, explore and relax after your shifts, you can have a more than enjoyable time and still be a pro when at work.

In case you were wondering, I'm assigned to the Whistler Sliding Centre, aka luge, bobsled and skeleton. Yes, I was there when the tragic accident happened. More on that to follow.

And I think that despite this horrible, unfortunate incident, we'll be a stronger team: athletes, coaches, reporters, volunteers... We'll all band together. And we will overcome this hardship to fully enjoy some of the best Olympic Games the world has ever seen.

Go Canada Go!