Carrying the Torch

How a little-known Olympic ski jumper inspired the world

Simon Ammann was a long (long) shot to even get on the podium as a ski jumper at the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics. He hadn’t placed higher than sixth in the World Cup circuit prior to the Games, and he had crashed and gotten injured in training in the weeks just prior to Salt Lake.

No one was talking about the 20-year-old Swiss kid as a real contenter.

So it was one of the biggest upsets in ski jumping history when Simon came from waaaaay behind and took Olympic gold in the normal hill event.

Two days later, riding a wave of what can only be described as total glee, Simon doubled down and took the gold in the large hill ski jump, too.

I got to watch Simon’s first win back in 2002. I had turned on the Games on a Sunday afternoon, and was watching from my cushy couch in Boulder. I wasn’t a die-hard ski jumping fan, but I flipped on the TV and just decided to watch whatever event happened to be on.

Watching Simon yell “I am the champion!” in utter surprise after his gold medal win is one of my favorite Olympic memories.

Check out Simon celebrating with his teammates after his first win at the 56 second mark in this video.

As a lifelong Olympics fan, I’ve got a lot of memories of watching stuff like this.

Catching moments like Simon’s win, and seeing the raw emotion that goes along with wins and losses when the world’s greatest athletes compete at the very highest level, is one of my favorite things in the world.

Gen Xers like me might remember idolizing Mary Lou Retton as she dominated the gymnastic pack in Los Angeles in 1984. Or Torvill and Dean's legendary “Bolero” ice-dancing performance. Or Greg Louganis literally springing back and taking a gold in diving after hitting the board in his preliminary round.

My friends know I’m a wee bit of an Olympic nerd, and that’s why one of them nominated me to run with the torch when it came through Boulder for those Salt Lake City Games back in 2002. I was honored to carry the flame for a quarter mile, right through the streets of Boulder. 

I still get chills when I see the lighting of the cauldron at the Opening Ceremonies. That’s the flame! I see you!

I once heard someone say that sporting events are one of the few places where it’s socially acceptable for men to cry in public — and that’s true for athletes as well as fans. 

It’s sad, but true, about the crying — but it’s that raw emotion that makes me keep watching, even now that the Games are overly commercialized, and even though network TV is actively trying to tug on my heartstrings with every sappy Olympics-related commercial. I still love it.

These days, I’ll watch any event that’s on TV during the Olympics. I know the difference between luge and skeleton racing. I’ll watch swimming, rhythmic gymnastics, or marathon running. I’ll watch biathlon.

In fact, I have fond memories of watching biathlon with my dad when I was a kid. He explained to me how biathlon athletes face a unique challenge: They have to rapidly lower their heart rates after intense cross-country skiing in order to shoot accurately at the target.

Even though I’m not a sports fan in my day-to-day life, there’s something magical about the Olympics.

Maybe it’s the fact that athletes only get the chance to compete every four years.

Or maybe it’s the emotion people show when they win — or lose.

It’s special because we get to see sporting events we don’t get to see at any other time. When’s the last time you saw a bobsled competition, outside of the Olympics? Never, right? But we happily watch absolute nutjob athletes hurl down a bobsled track at 90 miles an hour during the Games, and we cheer them on like it’s the Super Bowl.

Then there’s the fact that women get to shine during the Olympics in amazing ways. Female fencers, curlers, weightlifters, and snowboarders light up our screens. Who run the world? Girls.

This year, the number of female athletes almost reached parity with the guys for Paris. So close. We’ve come a long way since we were excluded from competing or forced to wear skirts when playing tennis at the Olympic level.

It’s not all pixies and rainbows, of course. The Olympics have struggled with major problems in the last decade, including doping scandals and teams spying on their competitors using drones. Some women’s clothing requirements are still absolutely ridiculous.

But I’ll be watching the Olympics for the next two weeks, and feeling considerably more inspired than if I spent the same time binging Netflix.

Maybe this year, I’ll witness another Simon Ammann moment, along with 3 billion other people around the world.

As the Games begin again, I'm reminded that in the Olympics, as in life, anything is possible — and that's a magic worth experiencing time and time again.