Barack Obama and the Promise of America

Expectation was high, the symbolism heavy.

Forty-five years ago, on August 28, 1963, Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his profoundly stirring “I Have a Dream” speech on the Mall in Washington that changed America. Surely Barack Obama, a champion of change himself, would seize the moment with soaring rhetoric of his own to connect with King and inherit his mantle during his nomination acceptance speech.

In one of his wisest decisions, Obama chose not to compete in the rhetoric department with King, an impossible task anyway. Instead of soaring, he was down-to-earth. He had judged the mood of the American people perfectly and that sensibility turned his good speech into a great one.

America is hurting. Millions are out of work. Bankruptcies are multiplying. Families are selling off their possessions on eBay to put food on the table. Meanwhile, George Bush’s failed presidency continues to pour $54 billion dollars every six months on the Iraq war.

Against that backdrop, Obama made his case. He defined the American promise as one “that says each of us has the freedom to make of our own lives what we will, but that we also have obligations to treat each other with dignity and respect. It's a promise that says the market should reward drive and innovation and generate growth, but that businesses should live up to their responsibilities to create American jobs, to look out for American workers, and play by the rules of the road …”

Obama attacked McCain for being out-of-touch with ordinary Americans and with the crisis the country is facing. “I just think he doesn’t know.” “… John McCain doesn’t get it.” Tough, uncompromising talk. It will be interesting to see what verbal calisthenics McCain performs to respond to Obama.

Even before he was done with his speech, the conservative chattering class was attacking Obama. Leading the pack was columnist Charles Krauthammer who has been recycling his obsessive notion that Obama is a narcissist “devoted to crafting, and chronicling, his own life.” The junior senator from Illinois has apparently nothing to show in terms of ideas and experience. What Mr. Krauthammer conveniently forgets is that the worst presidents in U.S. history came with hefty resumes (James Buchanan (1857-1861), Richard Nixon (1969, 1974), to name only two). Barack Obama has not walked the corridors of power in Washington long enough to merit the appreciation of neocons. How dare this black pretender to the throne rise to the highest office in the land, whines Krauthammer.

However, in this defining moment, America needs a president who maybe poor in Washington experience but rich in life-shaping experiences. From Hawaii to Jakarta to Los Angeles to New York to Nairobi to Chicago, Obama acquired a sense of purpose in life that sets him apart from politicians the pundits revere. He is uniquely qualified to bring about the change the country desperately needs. Voters are finally beginning to get it, even as John McCain and the conservatives and the chattering class don’t. Call it destiny, call it cycle of history, call it what you want, but after eight disastrous years, America is ready to move from the darkness of despir into the bright sunshine of hope, with president Obama leading the way. November cannot come soon enough.

London Calling

Wow!

If one word were to sum up the Beijing Olympics, this is it. China put its history, culture, modernity and athletic prowess on display and a dazzled world, for the most part, willingly forgot about politics and basked in the extravagant glow of the host nation’s Olympian dreams and ambitions.

A thought came to mind as the curtain fell on the 29th olympiad: England must not try to duplicate China when it hosts the 2012 Olympics in London. No other country, especially among democracies, can afford to spend $45 billion dollars to host a 2-week sporting event, however prestigious.

Instead of Beijing, a good model for London would be the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. Peter Ueberroth, its architect, gave us the first privately financed Olympic Games. He raised $500 million from corporate America and through wise planning, (securing, for instance, the donation of Southern California's playing fields and dormitories and saving the cost of constructing an Olympics village), produced a surplus of nearly $250 million that was later used to promote youth and sports activities throughout the United States. In contrast, the former Soviet Union spent $9 billion for the 1980 Moscow Olympics.

Imitation, Emerson said, is suicide. London will do well simply by being itself. If it can provide the color, food, music, and all the heartaches, improvisations and exhilarations of a messy democracy, and avoid going into debt, the 30th olympiad should be a resounding success. The newly-built venues and stadiums must be converted into usable space - housing, office, hospital - within a month after the Olympics is over, with hopefully green technology leading the way. London must show the world that the host city doesn't have to be saddled with white elephants when the athletes and the visitors leave.

A final observation: Many sportswriters and journalists sent dispatches from Beijing not just of the games and the athletes but also of ordinary people and cuisine and landmarks and the land, but no one captured the spirit of the Olympics more eloquently, and with more pathos and humor, than Anthony Lane of The New Yorker magazine. His “Letter from Beijing” deserves a gold medal of its own.

A Cheetah Unleashed

Usain Bolt reminds me of the young and brash Muhammad Ali who could electrify a crowd with his mere presence. Track & Field needed a shot in the arm; it got more, a lightning bolt. Three gold medals, three world records (100-meter, 9.69s, 200-meter, 19.30s, 4x100-meter relay, 37.10s). What an accomplishment! If anyone had suggested last week that Michael Phelps could be eclipsed in "mindshare" among Olympics viewers around the globe, he would have been laughed off. Yet that is what has happened. The Bolt phenomenon is real and here to stay. He is a cheetah unleashed. Against his grim and "purpose-driven" competitors, Bolt's breezy supremacy is a joy to behold.

Back in Jamaica, Bolt's father attributed his son's success to the nutritional (some say magical) value of the lowly yam, a staple in northwestern Jamaica where the speedster was born. Aspring sprinters here will probably ensure that in grocery stores throughout America there will be no more "silence of the yams."

Phelps and Destiny

If there was any doubt that Michael Phelps would fulfill his Olympic destiny, it was dispelled by his margin of victory in the 100-meter butterfly. One one-hundredth of a second. Try to divide the blink of an eye into one hundred parts and then try to visualize one part. Impossible, you say? Precisely. Nine times out of ten, Serbian Milorad Cavic would probably have beaten Phelps in the 100-meter butterfly but this particular Olympics was meant to be the venue for that one time out of ten. Destiny.

It is strange how destiny can be different for two great swimmers. 41-year-old Dana Torres lost her 50-meter swim by one one-hundredth of a second. And she and her team missed out on the gold in the 4x100m medley relay by the slimmest of margins. It could have happened to Phelps but it did not. Destiny.

Phelps has won eight gold medals, surpassing Spitz's record of 7 in the '72 Munich Olympics. Phelps stands alone, breaking a record many thought could never be touched. What about Phelps's? It seems impossible but maybe 36 years from now in the 2044 Olympics ... Well, perhaps another generation will marvel at how the unreachable was reached and surpassed by a new Phelps.

If Phelps competes in the London Olympics in 2012, as he is expected to, he should break Soviet gymnast Larissa Latynina's haul of 18 medals (9G, 5S, 4B) from three Olympics ('56, '60, '64). He has 16 (14G, 2B) from Athens and Beijing (2004, 2008). But that is a story for another day. At this moment, let us simply recognize that from now onwards and in any language, "Phelpsian feat" will mean the epitome of superhuman excellence.

Fastest Man on Earth

In just a few hours, we will know who can claim the title of “fastest man on earth.” The men’s 100 meters final in the Beijing Olympics pits three of the greatest speedsters in history: Usain Bolt and Asafa Powell of Jamaica and Tyson Gay of the United States. Between them they hold the 8 fastest times in the race, under 9.8 seconds.

This is not to say that others cannot pull an upset. Any number of factors could propel an unknown or unheralded sprinter into gold medal and history. But if we go with the record, it is most likely that the winner will be from among Bolt, Powell and Gay.

Men’s 100 meters is the most glamorous track and field event in the Olympics. It is over in a blink but its hold on the imagination lasts for years. Who has not dreamed of running as fast as the wind, outrunning foes real or imagined, outrunning inner demons, outrunning adversity, into a realm of bliss? At some point in our lives, we all have.

My sentimental favorite is Tyson Gay, if only because I cannot shake off his image of collapsing on the track and writhing in pain during the U.S. Olympics trials in Eugene last July. What can be more stirring than coming back from an injury and wearing the crown jewel of the Olympics? In reality, though, Usain Bolt appears unbeatable.

Stars Aligning for Phelps

I still think it will be a monumental challenge for Michael Phelps to win eight gold medals in the Beijing Olympics but I also think the stars are beginning to align for him in his quest to break Mark Spitz’s record.

If Jason Lezak didn’t pull off the impossible, anchoring the 4x100-meter freestyle relay to a win over the favored French team, Phelps could only hope for equaling Spitz’s record.

But now it looks as if fate is lending Phelps a hand. The toughest obstacles are behind him and maybe, just maybe, he will pull it off.

I do not recall cheering as lustily for a sporting event as I did at what I was seeing on TV last night. Was it comparable to the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” in the Lake Placid Winter Olympics game when a ragtag bunch of American hockey amateurs beat the mighty Soviet Union 4-3? Who can say but the ancient and powerful joy one feels in seeing the impossible occur in front of one's very own eyes is unforgettable.

Everyone is buzzing about Lezak, and rightly so, but we should not forget the performance of Cullen Jones who swam the third leg of the relay. This African-American swimmer not only helped smash a world record and keep Phelps’s dream alive, he also smashed stereotypes.

About those eight potential golds by Phelps, we hold our breath and hope for the best but I will make a fearless prediction: By the time he is done with the Beijing Olympics, Phelps will have won more Olympic gold medals than anyone in history. His haul will exceed nine, currently held by the quartet of Paavo Nurmi (Finland – Track & Field), Larissa Latynina (Ukraine - Gymnastics), Mark Spitz (U.S. - Swimming) and Carl Lewis (U.S. - Track & Field).

N.B. The funniest and most intelligent ad I have seen so far during NBC’s Olympics telecast shows LeBron James as a defense attorney. The story line is hilarious. Too many ads are pretentious, pompous or just plain silly. The LeBron ad should open eyes.

The Olympic Spirit and Us

Olympics for me began with the summer games in Rome, 1960. I was in 7th grade then and I remember my dad excitedly telling me that Pakistan had beaten India in hockey 1-0 after six successive Olympic failures. We were in Bangladesh (East Pakistan then) and it seemed a big deal, particularly because I played in my school hockey team and knew the rules of the game. I wasn’t aware of Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay) and Rafer Johnson at the time but I do recall seeing photographs of Wilma Rudolph, winner of god medals in 100 and 200 meters and the 400 meters relay, and telling myself: she has to be the most graceful female sprinter ever. My opinion hasn’t changed in 48 years. Another athlete who captured my imagination was the Ethiopian Abebe Bikila who ran barefoot in the streets of Rome to win the Marathon gold.

I was keenly interested in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics because of the inevitable clash between India and Pakistan in the field hockey final. India regained its supremacy by defeating Pakistan. But I was also expanding my horizon and began to follow other sports with equal passion.

Pakistan beat Australia in the final in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics to win the field hockey gold but that was more or less the beginning of the end for both Pakistan and India. Other countries were rapidly catching up. Although the two nations enjoyed some success afterwards, they would now be lucky to win a bronze medal.

But my interest was already shifting and what I remember reading about the Mexico City Olympics was the long jump record set by America’s Bob Beamon. The guy almost jumped out of sight, setting an astonishing record of 29’2½”, one that stood for 23 years until another American, Mike Powell, broke it with a record of 29’4½” in the World Championship game in Tokyo in 1991. But the dominant story of that Olympics, the Black Power salute by Tommie Smith and John Carlos, passed me by.

On my way from the newly-independent nation of Bangladesh to Halifax, Canada, in 1972 for higher studies, I stopped by in Munich at the invitation of a friend from Dhaka University. The Munich Olympics was the first that I attended in person and I was awed by its sights and sounds. It felt unreal, to be at the center of the sports world where the fastest and the strongest were competing for glory. I had never seen such affluence and even the big moon that hung low at night seemed to be acknowledging the spectacle on the earth below. I was able to catch only one event, a soccer game between West Germany and United States on a warm night. U.S. lost the game 7-0 and my vocal rooting for the underdog brought curious glances from the Germans around me. But I was in sports heaven and was convinced the magic would last forever. I heard about the impossible performance of an American swimmer named Mark Spitz but could not register what it was all about

I left before the Munich massacre. When I landed in Canada, the closing ceremonies were taking place and the shock and horror signaled that Olympics and politics and tragedy would become inseparable in the years to follow.

By the time I came to the United States in 1974, I was a bona fide sports fanatic. I was studying at Temple University in Philadelphia. In August of 1976, I took a train from New York to Montreal – the Adirondack – passing through Hudson Valley and the lush countryside. I was at Montreal from beginning to end and saw several track and field events and, of course, field hockey. The world awoke to a Romanian wunderkind named Nadia Comaneci who scored seven unheard of perfect 10s in gymnastics on her way to three gold medals. I would get up at dawn and take the subway to the main Olympic stadium and start taking photographs right and left, trying to capture as many faces and events as I could. I saw decathlon champion Bruce Jenner in action. But after two weeks of nonstop Olympic excitement, I was happy to return to my apartment at Temple.

After moving to San Jose, California in 1979, my sports fever continued unabated but I was content to watch successive Olympics on TV. Sure, that feeling of being there was irreplaceable but it was also physically demanding, and I was happy to trade immediacy for comfort. Besides, I could see more, even if it meant late-night vigils.

And here we are now, on the eve of the Beijing Olympics. The Web and the papers are full of pundits lamenting the commercialization of Olympics, the doping scandals, the mercenary attitude of some nations to win at the expense of dehumanizing their athletes, and so on. But they are missing the point. For two weeks, the Olympic spirit, however flawed and frayed, will reign supreme and the world will applaud the winners and lend the losers a shoulder to cry on. There is honor in trying to do one’s best, and a Bangladeshi athlete can rejoice equally in having taken part as an American athlete standing on the podium moist-eyed as the Star-Spangled Banner plays. China is expected to dominate the medal count and showcase its emergence as a superpower but that is nothing compared to the ties that will unite the athletes and the fans for a few days and make us believe in our common humanity.

I will be rooting for Michael Phelps to break Mark Spitz’s record of seven gold medals but it will be tough. He will have to be as perfect as Nadia Comaneci was in Montreal. Actually he will have to do her one better. If that’s not asking for the impossible, I don’t know what is. But it is in the Olympics that the impossible happens. And therein rests its magic. The Olympics reminds us that the impossible is only a limitation of the imagination, that we have it in us to overcome this limitation and discover the hidden gold within. Long live the Olympics spirit!