Moved

It's day twelve of the Olympics. I hadn't watched anything but a few moments of it.

I tend to think of the Olympics as a huge advertising festival. The enormity of that has wiped away wonderful childhood memories of watching the Olympics with great enjoyment. When I was ten years old, I watched speed skating with other children in a strange hotel for kids on the North Sea in the Netherlands. I couldn't speak or understand Dutch, but I loved skating, and we all watched with smiles on our faces.

But then came the up close and personals, and the Tanya Harding episode, and all the athletes plastered in endorsement patches. So, this year, when I realized I couldn't watch it on TV, and then came to find out that I could only see clips on-line, well, I said "I've got better things to do with my time."

But tonight, I watched some figure skating. Wow. Were they always this good?

But, nothing prepared me for the raw footage with no screaming commentators of the two young Estonians dancing to Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters." I love that I have no idea what the experts thought. I love that she has braces, and he's got yellow teeth and looks all of sixteen. They danced with such intensity. Oh yes, they skated. Nothing else mattered.

No commentary? I can think whatever I like.

Image note: From overhead shots of the ice dancing, here. Hey, I just found out the names of the Estonians, and they're Irina Shtork and Taavi Rand, and, well, she is 16 years old. What did you do at 16? On a night such as this, I was probably doing bong hits with some friends. . .