Sure Thing Prediction: NBC Guts Sochi Opening Ceremony

Before posting another update about the Olympic city experience, a word about NBC and a prediction for their Sochi coverage.

For the record, there are many aspects of NBC's Olympic coverage that I find O.K. Some of their feature reports and five-ringed vignettes are fun, and it is enjoyable to return from the Games experience to view their take on the action in an edited format. When there's time, it is fun to view select content at NBCOlympics.com.

With that said, I still cannot stomach archived John Tesh commentary from the times when they permitted him to dramatize figure skating or gymnastics. And there are other Olympic broadcasting ideas about which a strong opinion remains.

The part I definitely don't like, don't understand and will not likely ever concur with is the NBC Olympic producers' decision to alter the Olympic Opening Ceremony for U.S. broadcast, a terrible decision.

Here's NBC's recipe for "Olympic Opening Ceremony American Style" (their Salt Lake 2002 coverage is the only exception to this format) ...

1. Tape the full Olympic Opening Ceremony to "look live" with anchors/commentary
2. Lock producers/editors into editing bays at the NBC quadrant of the International Broadcast Center
3. Slice, dice, carve, mangle and blend on "grind" mode until just before 8 p.m. ET stateside air time
4. Serve up dramatically altered "American ready" version for the masses.

Readers of this blog may recall the London 2012 Opening Ceremony and revelations that entire segments of the event did not air in the USA. Boo! Hiss!

Why can't NBC quote from the Sochi organizing committee Opening Ceremony press kits (a minute-by-minute explanation of every scene in the ceremony meticulously prepared for broadcast reports to reference during the live event)? Why not put this factual document in the hands of Bob Costas and other hosts (Meredith Viera in London)? Would this help, perhaps, for stupid Americans to "get it" when something about the host nation is unveiled?

After catching up on just two days worth of TODAY Show segments from Sochi, with gleeful hosts poking fun at every opportunity and yuk-ing it up with xenophobic remarks about the host nation, I shutter to think how the executive producers already have their cut and gut sites set on Sochi's Opening Ceremony.

Will NBC cut to taped segments about record-setting security costs while American viewers miss out on a Russian history lesson presented on the field of play deemed "too Russian for USA viewers" [to understand]? Da!

Will NBC Olympic producers let the anchors bite their tongues during President Putin's appearance to officially open the Games? Nyet!

Will NBC harp on Torch Relay snafus in lieu of successes of one of the biggest flame caravans in Olympic history? Da!

Will the NBC Olympic broadcast cut to commercial with precision as the last few torchbearers are revealed and immediately after the cauldron ignites? Bероятно (probably).

The only thing that chaps my hide more than the editing is that the powers that be at NBC don't care that many people just want to see the real Opening Ceremony. At the IOC Conference on Women and Sport in February 2012, I posed questions about this topic to the media panel including one of NBC's top producers (the woman who later oversaw the London 2012 broadcast among the most, if not the most, senior producers for NBC Olympics). She sort of shrugged off my questions as if to say, "Meh! Will just do it our way" for ratings, for fun, or just because they can. "These are timing decisions," she said. How about these are business decisions?

What is your opinion on the NBC Olympic broadcast of the Opening Ceremony? Should they just air it intact, heavily edited or somewhere in the middle? Please look to the right column of this blog and cast your vote in the brief poll.

And enjoy watching the Olympics on NBC.

Forty Years Since Munich 1972

Today (Sept. 5) marks the 40th anniversary of the Olympic Movement's darkest day. And today in Germany survivors of the Black September attack on the Munich Olympic Village gathered for a day of remembrance and contemplation.

I've studied the events of Sept. 5, 1972, several times, starting with a college journalism term paper reviewing The New York Times' coverage of the Munich Massacre the following day. Also read the many books, reports and commentaries on the attack, screened "One Day In September" (the Oscar-winning documentary film), and recall vividly Bob Costas' commentary in 1992 in an NBC Sports special (aired during the Barcelona 1992 Games) for the 20th anniversary.

Of course there's also Steven Spielberg's "Munich" remake of the film "Sword of Gidion" about Israel's response to Munich.

Also, a couple of years ago through a work sabbatical, I spent several days living in a hotel at the Munich Olympic Park, just steps away from ground zero from that day in the Olympic Village. I've walked in the steps of the victims and their attackers, filmed the monuments built to commemorate those lost, and given a bit of thought to the recent brouhaha during London 2012 and the decision of the International Olympic Committee to share a moment of silence at an Olympic Village ceremony in lieu of a moment during the London 2012 Opening Ceremony. Here's my take on things.

Prior to the London 2012 Olympic Opening Ceremony, I agreed with the IOC -- rather than Bob Costas and the victims' families -- that the Opening Ceremony did not seem an appropriate time nor place for a moment of silence.

But then the LOCOG organizers did something I did not expect. During the 2012 Opening, they aired with IOC approval a video commemorating Olympic Family members lost in recent months (as I understand it, the video featured head shots of some folks lost in the Sept. 7, 2005, attacks in London). The video was brief, tasteful, easy to understand. In the stadium that night, I remember thinking "Why didn't they just put the Munich victims in this video, too?" Sort of like a moment of silence by a family around the table at a Thanksgiving meal -- a toast to those worthy of being remembered.

And I think LOCOG stumbled onto a potential 2012 Olympic legacy that could also help the IOC appease the Munich family survivors.

My mind was changed. I think every future Olympic Opening Ceremony should include a moment of silence for Olympic Family members lost during the Olympiad preceding the Games (or any Olympic Family member lost any time for any reason). Had this been accomplished for London 2012, the IOC could have commemorated Juan Antonio Samaranch (who died during the current Olympiad) in a brief, tasteful manner, and they could have included the Munich victims.

By permanently adding the "Olympic Family Moment of Remembrance" to each Opening Ceremony, it would air much like the Academy Awards video tribute to Oscar winners lost in the prior year leading to the broadcast.

A new tradition? A new legacy of 2012? Only time will tell. I know in all my future Olympiads the events of Munich will remain on the brain for myself and for millions who will always remember that one day in September.

Photo via this link

Darrell Hammond on "Fresh Air"

Driving home tonight, after posting about the London 2012 Olympic Torch Relay, I heard an extremely moving interview on "Fresh Air" -- the second time in as many months that Terry Gross kept me in the car listening to someone balling their eyes out.

In Gross' sites tonight: Darrell Hammond, the "Saturday Night Live" star and author of a new book aptly titled "God, If You're Not Up There, I'm F*cked."

Sheesh! This interview was raw. Almost as raw as the September interview with Emmy winner Margo Martindale. I don't know now Gross can keep her own composure during these conversations.

The only Olympic connections I could find for Hammond is his impersonations of NBC Sports' Bob Costas, as well as Olympic gymnastics coach Bela Karolyi. From the "Fresh Air" interview and new book, it seems Hammond would likely be on the medal stand if surviving child abuse turned into an Olympic sport.

Photo via HarperCollins

Please Re-Peat This ... Four Times

If Bob Costas, Jim Lampley, the other NBC Sports anchors, or their army of Olympic researchers and interns, are online to gear up for the London 2012 Olympic commentary, I hope they'll read this post.

Because on my desk is a copy of a page-turning academic paper my good friend J. Brian Carberry got published in the most recent edition of the Journal of Olympic History.

In his report titled The Olympic 4-Peat -- A Rare Achievement, Carberry presents his case as to why the terms "Olympic Four-Peat" (changed here to match AP Style), "Olympic Three-Peat" or similar should be added to the Olympic and sports lexicon.

That definition states that to achieve the rare Olympic Four-Peat one must take home the gold medal in four consecutive Olympic competitions in the same sport/discipline. An example: Carl Lewis winning his fourth gold medal in the long jump at the Centennial Olympic Games in Atlanta. One blogger used the term in 2004 to describe the original/first Olympic Four-Peater, Al Oerter.

(11/7/2010 correction: Oerter was not the original/first Olympic Four-Peater.)

Carberry also charts the history of past or potential Olympic Four-Peats, including 15 athletes -- five women and 10 men -- who may Olympic Four-Peat themselves into the history books AND Carberry's updated research during the Games of the XXXth Olympiad.

Yes, we are shopping for tickets to attend the potential Olympic Four-Peats (as stated in my previous post, Carberry and I also seek tickets so we may achieve a personal Olympic Three-Peat in spectating at the women's beach volleyball final in 2012).

Following Carberry's six-page report, a 10-page chart provides excruciating yet thorough detail about Olympic Three-Peat and Olympic Four-Peat achievements in modern Olympic history (only eight Olympians achieved Olympic Four-Peats thus far -- remarkable.

Commentators should clamor to describe the one-time Olympic Five-Peat (would that also be an Olympic Pent-Peat or Olympic Pente-Peat) and the single Olympic Six-Peat (Olympic Sex-Peat?) winners in history, Hungarian fencers Pál Kovács and Aladár Gerevich, respectively. CNN.com features a nice write-up about Gerevich.

By way of this post, I am encouraging Carberry to set up his own website, Facebook page and blog to showcase and elevate the terminology he proposed should have more prominence. This way, Brian and others will be able to continue to build a case for the Olympic Four-Peat vocabulary to achieve mainstream status in sports coverage and conversation.

An online resource dedicated to this topic will permit more interactive history and discussion on this topic, and give fans a place to reference -- in real time from London 2012 -- the status of the upcoming Olympic Four-Peat contenders.

To inspire Mr. Carberry to get online and get busy, I added an "Olympic Four-Peat" statement to the Al Oerter page on Wikipedia.

(11/7/2010 update: Because this statement was incorrect, it was later edited from the Wikipedia page; I stand corrected.)

And send a copy of the article to Mr. Costas -- he needs to read it.

Photo via this site

Backstage at The Colbert Report Olympic Edition

Per my post last night, a colleague and I set out Wednesday morning on behalf of several clients.

Our mission was a success, but more details on that will have to wait until next week's air dates for "The Colbert Report" Olympic shows filmed in Vancouver.

Mr. Colbert was great! We made eye contact twice, and that gleam in his eye on TV twinkles even brighter in person (perhaps it was the sunlight reflecting off the "Iceholes" in attendance).

His crowd interactions met deafening applause at every step. It was cool that someone in the audience of thousands brought their Vancouver Olympic Torch and loaned it to Colbert for the show's opening lines.

I was so pleased to also see Canadian singer Michael Buble, as well as "Miracle On Ice" Miracle Worker Mike Eruzione (who shared a very brief impromptu interview shown in the video) and NBC Sports legend Bob Costas (has it really been 21 years since his broadcasts from the Seoul Olympics?). This was not the first time encountering these stars (Buble was in Atlanta recently, Eruzione appeared at Olympic pin trading in Park City, Utah, in 2002, and Costas was steps away in the Bird's Nest at Beijing's Olympic Closing Ceremony), but it was perhaps the most fun!

Enjoy the video!

Phelps Phan, in conclusion

(continued from previous post)

... And there we were. Bound for the Water Cube, but stuck in a taxi halted by Beijing traffic police. Women's marathon, god bless it, was keeping us from our destination (the runner route crossed over the highway where we were stopped, and vehicles could not proceed until a break in the runner pack). The skies were not as sunny by this point.

From our vantage point at that moment (see photos), we thought out loud "it can only be half a mile or so" and pondered Murphy's Law, which -- applied in this case -- meant no doubt that if we sat in the cab, we would miss Phelps, and if we got out to hike, inevitably the traffic would be released (this happened to me when President Bush's 80-plus vehicle motorcade ground highway traffic to a halt on Aug. 11) and we would regret our premature hoofing it.

We went with the latter option, and started running up the highway, and actually made it a few hundred yards before looking back. That's when Murphy came through with what I swear was our "Lucky Eight" cab driver waving back to us as his vehicle got back up to highway speed (passing us several lanes out of reach of hailing him again).

The next part of our trek could be set to several favorite songs. Flock of Seagulls' "I Ran" or perhaps Van Halen's great running tune, or even the Kate Bush song (it was, after all, up hill much of the way to The Cube). But we weren't really thinking about music. We were just running. Running through what seemed to be, at first hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands of Chinese Olympic fans heading in the direction opposite our own. Heading to Olympic aquatics we were swimming against the current ... (O.K., okay, no salmon metaphors ... on with the story).

After the first 2/3 of a mile, we were drenched in sweat. Paul is in good shape. I am not. And Brian was weighed down down with a bit of stuff, so the gaps between us, and our strides, were starting to spread out. But we kept in ear and eye contact yelling above the throngs of spectators who were all gathered 20 deep around the Olympic Green perimeter fence. The highway formed the south border of the green, and we had just crossed most of it on foot. We were yelling directions to gaps in the crowd. We were yelling the time 10:15, 10:20, etc., so we could keep our pace on track to get into The Cube before Phelps' starting gun around 11 a.m.. We bit our tongues on countless expletives. Rain started to sprinkle.

At last, we caught site of the first goal -- a security entrance for the Green.

Access denied. "Staff and volunteers only -- go to next gate."

Another half mile. Another 5,000 people. Another gate.

"This one staff only -- go to next one," said the too-chipper Olympic volunteer, pointing to a tent another half-mile away. At least it was a level road.

"Stop freakin' smiling, volunteer!," was one thought to myself. I had shin-splints by this part of the unplanned jog. We lumbered along. Rain a bit more steady now.

Security gate in sight. Lungs heaving. Steps away. "They better not even THINK about sending us to another gate! Made it.

Finally a break -- thanks to our credentials, Paul and I were IN (sorry, Brian, another half-mile for you as he was with ticket but without a Games credential).

No ... air ... in ... lungs ...

Heart ... and ... legs ... malfunction ... ing ...

But from the security checkpoint to what we thought was salvation (the door to The Cube), only 100 meters! Euphoria. Relief. Rest soon. We had time to catch our breaths and high-five each other. See you at the seats, Brian.

Heavier rain. But that was O.K. as we were about to be seated, we thought.

We got to the door of The Cube. The volunteers and security smiled and checked our tickets. So close!

"This athlete entrance only -- go around," said the volunteer, smiling.

This is the part of the story when Paul and I lost it. I mean, lost it in the Cameron Fry going berserk in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and Steve Martin at the car rental parking lot sense of it all. Every word in the book was unloaded on those poor volunteers (believe me, we tried the 'nice' approach, then whining, then begging first, to no avail -- cussing did not work either, and we cussed often some more while stomping through tall grass and making ANOTHER half-mile stroll to get around the massive Water Cube footpath to the spectator entrance).

I think word of our athlete entrance outburst must have reached the spectator entrance volunteers before us, because they were even more enthusiastic than normal to welcome us to show our tickets for scanning.

"So glad you made it!" I felt large drops of perspiration and rain draining down my saturated outfit and did not respond as my hand snatched the "lucky ticket" from her hand.

We were there. Only one hour, 1.75 miles, thousands of personified hurdles and three gates later. We were there. Mercy!

We collapsed into our seats, completely spent, as the medal ceremony including Dara Torres' silver medal was presented.

Things started to get normal again. Brian made it to the seats a few minutes later. Smiles. We continued to catch our breath during the second to last race of the day, which also gave us time to unfurl the flags we brought with us. Time to cheer, at last.

I honestly barely remember the actual race for Phelps and team. The venue was (as shown on the Flipcam video of the race) somewhat subdued compared to other major sporting milestones attended in the past. But it was amazing to witness it all, including Phelps' later hand off of flowers to his mom, and the U.S. flag being raised with the national anthem (if memory serves me, Paul left the building to go find a taxi to head to the airport about this time).

Brian and I took some time to wander behind the scenes in the venue, where we witnessed Bob Costas' post race interview with Phelps, met Bela Karolyi (there for the big event, sweatless, sans harrowing run across town), and even snapped a shot or two of Phelps leaving the building.

We also got to shake hands with a few other Olympic medalists from Australia and even Tunisia's first gold medal swimmer (from the early races we missed while on the streets of Beijing). We started to feel guilt about screaming at those volunteers (eventually I returned to their post and gave them some Atlanta Olympic pins with an apology and thanks for directing us to the correct Water Cube door -- funny how they reacted when I walked OUT of The Cube through the door where they previously denied access).

Now it is easy to laugh about it all. The morning was punctuated one last time by another funny moment, which takes me back to the Atlanta Olympic Village in 1996, site of my first Olympic job.

In the Water Cube, just before leaving, I spotted a German TV station doing their wrap-up report from the venue and recognized one of the commentators as the great German Olympic medalist, Franzi Van Almsick. Franzi took home medals from four Olympiads: Barcelona, Atlanta, Sydney and Athens.

Long story short: I previously met Franzi in Atlanta's Olympic Village (after plunging her roommate's Olympic Village toilet on the night of the Olympic Park Bombing in 1996), and I was curious whether she would remember that introduction.

Alas, in the Water Cube now 12 years later, she did not recall our introduction (no big surprise, though I did think she would remember me holding a plunger back in ATL). But Van Almsick was friendly and willing to sign an autograph and walk out of the Water Cube with me, and she asked me THE BEST question ever.

Like Dave Barry, I swear, I am NOT making this up:

"Is it difficult to take a taxi in Beijing?" asked Van Almsick. "I just got here and have not yet taken one, but now I need one for another event that starts in an hour."

"If the women's marathon is over now," I replied, "Today, Franzi, is your lucky day!"