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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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1994-03-25
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<text id=92TT1657>
<title>
July 27, 1992: The Magic of The Games
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
July 27, 1992 The Democrats' New Generation
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ESSAY, Page 76
The Magic of The Games
</hdr><body>
<p>By Pico Iyer
</p>
<p> When Magic Johnson told the world last year that he had
tested positive for the virus that causes AIDS, even those who
could not tell a triple double from a Triple Crown felt a
knelling sense of loss. Much of the reason for this lies with
Magic himself: bringing entertainment to the world of sports,
and sports to the world of entertainment, he had a rare gift for
making hard work look like fun, and miracles seem as easy as a
stroll down to the candy store. But there was something more to
it than that. Magic, in a sense, seemed to embody all the purest
qualities that attract us toward sports. Innocence. Enthusiasm.
Joy. The Olympic spirit at its best.
</p>
<p> If the world of sports ever held those virtues, that time
seems a distant memory. These days the Sports news might more
appropriately be found under Medicine, or Law, or Business. In
the past few months alone, tragedy has followed travesty has
followed cautionary tale: the former heavyweight champion of the
world is serving six years in jail for rape; the most famous
soccer player in the world is found to be a cocaine addict; the
five-time Wimbledon champion of a decade ago, a model of grace
and poise on the court, is humiliated yet again in the divorce
courts. Even a show-jumping competitor in England is charged
with tampering with his horse.
</p>
<p> Much of this is a reflection not on the athletes
themselves, but on those of us who would demand perfection of
them. We ask them to be exemplars in every aspect of their
lives, and they mock our reverence daily. In that sense, the
people who worship athletes can be a little like the devil,
leading their redeemer up to a high place and then showing him
all the pleasures of the world. "All this," we say, "I will give
to you, if only you will show yourself better -- as well as no
better -- than the rest of us." A single American baseball
player today signs contracts that will bring him as much money
as 20,000 Laotians will earn from now till the end of the
century. And the Olympics, with their multinational coverage and
million-dollar endorsement possibilities, are hardly innocent
of this.
</p>
<p> Yet the Olympics have a built-in advantage, for the
Olympics offer no official cash prizes, and they reward the
majority of their competitors with nothing but bright memories.
For every Larry Bird or Steffi Graf, there are at least 300
athletes with the odds firmly stacked against them. And for
every Ben Johnson, there are a hundred others who are neither
competitive nor affluent enough to boost their chances with
illicit drugs. The Olympics, in fact, are a festival of
underdogs: at least 130 of the nations that will compete in
Barcelona will have the luxury of being in a can't-lose position
-- expectations for them are so low that any achievement will
be a triumph. And perhaps 90% of all the athletes can do no more
than remind themselves that David beat Goliath in the Slingshot
Event. Even the former Soviet Union is an underdog this time.
And though the soccer World Cup offers a little of the same
excitement -- when Cameroon met England two years ago, all the
small countries of the world were surely backing one of their
number against a former imperial power -- the Olympics offer a
double dose: a little competitor from a little country up
against Jackie Joyner-Kersee.
</p>
<p> That may help explain why even grandparents who have never
heard of Sergei Bubka will shout along with the Games, and why
half the world tunes in. If the first joy of following sports
is seeing skill at work in a partisan cause, the second is
watching surprise defeat expectation. Every hopeless cause is
everybody's favorite, and every 1,000-to-1 shot seems like our
hometown hero. The pleasure of watching Michael Jordan play is
almost matched by the very different pleasure of seeing an
Angolan accountant turned point guard play Michael Jordan
one-on-one. That is why two of the most popular athletes in the
world today are George Foreman and Jimmy Connors, who inspire
support not because of all they have achieved over the years,
but in spite of it. Suddenly, in early middle age, both are born
again as underdogs; suddenly, the perennial champions are
overweight, out-of-breath, underestimated long shots competing
for the hell of it. Time is no longer on their side. But we are.
</p>
<p> That may be one of the reasons why the Olympics appeal
more than ever this year to Magic, who is now an underdog for
the first time, a newcomer to the event, with the odds
(personally) against him. For perhaps the first time in memory,
we will not greet another no-look pass with a shrug of
familiarity: Magic is an amateur again. Why should he, suddenly
mortal, risk his health to play in the Olympics? Why should we
race off to watch him play in Barcelona? Because the root of the
word amateur -- still the heart of the Games, even in these
professional times -- is the first Latin verb that every student
learns: amo, or "I love."
</p>
</body></article>
</text>