From weeping gymnasts to trampoline tumbles and the return of the fabulous Debbie Phelps, the last two weeks have been a wild ride. Daily Beast staffers share their personal highlights.
Richard Heathcote; Alex Livesey; Scott Heavey / Getty Images
I teared up when gymnast Aly Raisman stuck her final floor landing and started crying before she finished her “Hurrah!” to the judges. She knew she had just won gold for Team USA’s all-around, and I was like, “OMG, she knows! Aly knows!” I picked myself up off the floor and went back to my Chinese delivery dinner. But that was something special.
Maybe I’m a sucker for NPR’s coverage, but the Claressa Shields story has had me choked up for months. A 17-year-old from Flint left to sleep on a relative’s couch for months while training—she’s been an underdog in so many ways, not just in the boxing ring. Amazing story of perseverance that culminated in a gold medal. Forget about the superstars who ran up the score against hapless Nigeria. What a role model for America’s underprivileged kids.
Trampolines. I always thought they were cheap backyard toys designed to break kids' bones. Turns out, they're a serious sport. I learned this last week when I happened to turn on the TV and saw a Chinese girl named He Wenna do some crazy shit on the trampoline, mostly a bunch of really high somersaults. Poor thing messed up once and was lucky to get the bronze. I'm proud of her, and of all the trampoline athletes who competed this year, but I have to admit, I still have a hard time taking a sport seriously whose signature moves include the fliffus, the triffus, and the rudolph—sometimes known as the "rudy"?!?
I can imagine that winning the gold medal, boarding the top of the medal stand, and hearing your country’s national anthem blare over the loudspeaker is the greatest feeling in the world. In fact, I do imagine just that—and I’ve done it often in these past two weeks. And when I win the gold medal in these wild—very wild—daydreams (men’s gymnastics individual all-around, of course), I actually cry because I’m so proud of myself and my hard work...in my imagination. So when South Africa’s ceaselessly charming and humble Chad Le Clos narrowly beat Michael Phelps in the 200-meter butterfly, stood on the medal stand, and instantly began weeping uncontrollably, I understood—and may have shed a tear or two (hundred) in solidarity.
Amid the bizarre splendor of Danny Boyle’s opening-ceremony extravaganza, replete with a trip through British history, a plethora of fireworks, and Paul McCartney belting out a lame rendition of “Hey Jude,” was Queen Elizabeth II. While her cameo-skit with James Bond himself, Daniel Craig, was a definite highlight—culminating with a stunt double of the queen parachuting out of a plane—the queen’s “over it” attitude during the ceremony was the highlight of the evening. Every time the camera cut to the queen, she’d be picking at her nails or sitting there with a stone-faced look that said, “I’m missing Downton Abbey reruns for this?”
Oh, Lashinda. There’s something about the agony of a second-place finish that sticks in one’s mind so much longer than those unseemly victory dances of gold-medal winners. Going into this year’s Games, American hurdler Lashinda Demus seemed poised for triumph. She holds the American record in her event, the 400-meter hurdles; she had given birth to twins and refocused on her craft with an Olympian’s intensity; NBC had nearly coronated her by airing one of those inspirational video montages of her life. Demus was robbed in ’04, just barely didn’t qualify in ’08—this was her time. So it felt cruel to watch her clear that last hurdle, trailing Russian Natalya Antyukh—about whom NBC did not air a video montage—and then run out of steam in the last stretch, ultimately collapsing on the track when she realized she had been beat. “I can’t explain how bad I wanted the gold medal,” Demus said afterward, vowing to return in 2016. No need to explain, Lashinda. We know.
I thought it was pretty striking when a very overweight man in a skintight Union Jack vest and a bright orange wig led a conga line around the beach-volleyball stadium for at least 10 minutes. Must have been 100 people in it. I'm pretty sure I was the only sober person at that event (U.S. versus U.K., women's qualifiers).
What really got me was watching the men’s gymnastics team. Not regarded nearly as highly as the women’s team, Team USA still soared in looks, muscle, and personality. But while most in the audience swooned over Sam Mikulak and Danell Leyva, I felt an inexplicable soft spot for John Orozco. Perhaps it was the way his mother hid her face while he swung between the parallel bars during the men’s final, or maybe it was his soft, dark eyes—who knows! But when that 19-year-old from the Bronx landed flat on his ass after a faulty handspring off the vault, I melted as those soft, dark eyes welled up with tears. I just wanted to give the poor kid a hug and tell him, “It’s OK.” Instead, I turned off the TV and said to my sister, “I can’t watch this anymore.”
I somehow still cared more about the Mets’ recent West Coast tour (you gotta believe!) than most of the Olympic sports, but the mom-watching this year was top-notch. I’m a huge fan of Debbie Phelps—her insanely expressive game face, her fabulous outfits, and her quintessential mom haircut are all perfect. But I lost it watching Gabby Douglas’s mom watch her daughter win gold in the women’s gymnastics individual all-around. Her reaction was so genuine and moving that it made me realize that tears aren’t really supposed to be nationally televised. It was also enough for me to call my own mom to tell her I love her, so everyone won (but, you know, especially Gabby).
Lots of fun events aren’t shown in prime time—when will crazy-violent water polo or European-dominated four-man kayak get some love? Of the more-obscure events, I loved the equestrian individual jumping finale. Gold was already a foregone conclusion: Switzerland’s Steve Guerdat had clinched. But Dutch rider Gerco Schroder and Cian O'Connor of Ireland had a jump-off for silver. Schroder made it through the course cleanly, but O'Connor, a late addition to the team and chasing Ireland’s first medal of the games, was faster—until his horse caught the front rail of the final jump. What was great about the moment was O'Connor’s reaction. He pumped his fist and celebrated as if he’d won the gold, right after losing the silver medal at the last minute, and the crowd went wild. One of the happiest bronze medalists I’ve seen!
Alex Livesey / Getty Images
Photographers be warned, Usain Bolt loves the camera. Peering up at an electric crowd after his win in the 200-meter sprint on Thursday, Bolt took in an incredible view, one that the cameramen below were missing: his. With a sweat-lined forehead, the sprinting phenomenon snagged a camera from Swedish photographer Jimmy Wixtröm, turned it on the crowd, and started shooting. The result: a gold-medal moment in photographs. At first, a crowd of puzzled faces, shocked and uneasy. Then more confusion and, gradually, grins. And then, all at once, the crowd is a picture of smiles, erupting in cameraphone-ready joy. It was an epic win.
Those wincing, ants-in-their-pants dancing Raismans slayed gymnastics fans—not to mention the striving, neurotic modern American Jewish parents they so epitomized—as we watched them watch their daughter fly between the uneven bars. Lynn and Rick were such eye candy that NBC cameras cut away from Aly’s routine repeatedly to zoom in on them, and the announcer guffawed into his microphone. A viral video had been born. And Dayenu, it would have been enough for Aly to simply medal, but her gold was won to a particularly shtetl-sounding rendition of the celebratory anthem, Hava Nagila. And though, as her rabbi said, the Raismans are not incredibly religious, they represent a new success for Jews near and far, who are kvelling.
Dave Hogan / NBC-NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images
