Page Two

We've got a wide array of great stories in this issue -- from the Gourds to the Guv, with a lot of stops in between. But, you know, I've got to be honest with you: I've got a bad case of Olympic fever right now, and it's kind of hard to focus on anything else. Soccer, swimming, kayaking, pursuit cycling -- you name it, I'm there. As I write this, I'm flogging myself for missing a key water polo qualifier, which is why "Page Two" is going to be a bit short this week. So perhaps it's no surprise that the one story I'll draw to your particular attention here is Jonathan Hennessey's hilarious Olympic memoir from four years ago in Atlanta. His behind-the-scenes peek at the seedier side of the Olympic "organization" definitely brings to mind the old admonition about looking inside the sausage factory, but nevertheless, I find myself watching the goings-on Down Under with an almost complete lack of cynicism.

Part of that, no doubt, is a "familiarity breeds contempt" syndrome. We're way too close to Atlanta to have expected anything but the worst in '96, and the Coca-Cola headquarters city was probably doomed from the start to host the Commercial Olympics. Sydney, on the other hand, is about as far from the world's centers of commerce as you can get in these post-WTO days, and the Aussies' contagious goodwill and hospitality seem to have carried over even into the competition itself -- at least through the first week, in the fraternal atmosphere of the Swim Center. Of course, maybe that's just skillful spin control from the good folks at NBC, but if so, at least they're putting on a great front.

Now, if the U.S. could just get the ball down inside to their two-meter man, this could be the best summer Olympics ever. G'Day.