Rarely has a city embraced a sporting event as much as the French metropolis embraces the 2024 Olympics. How do I know this? Because I have reported on the Summer and Winter Games 15 times.
Is there a more picturesque backdrop? Cycling race at Montmartre.
“Best games ever!” This is how Juan Antonio Samaranch, President of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) from 1980 to 2001, would typically praise the organizers at the closing ceremony. Among us journalists, there was a belief that he would say the same thing even if he had attended a pickup tournament where there were only burnt sausages and no beer. For example, he said it at the end of the Atlanta 1996 Games when we all thought, “Get me out of here!”
Nearly thirty years later, I experienced my latest Games in Paris, the 15th, and they will rank high in my personal list. Much has been written about Parisians fleeing to vacation spots to escape the chaos in their city. While this may be true for some, others were simply on holiday as usual. But those who remained lived the Games like I have seldom seen.
But let’s go back to the Atlanta Games for a moment. We called them the Coca-Cola Games because the soft drink company wanted the Olympics where it had its headquarters. There were free Coke for journalists, and everyone got a stack of coupons for burgers at McDonald’s. Much about the Games felt half-finished; volunteers had spray-painted the dried-out grass green shortly before the opening in the Olympic Village. It wasn’t cozy at all.
But the spirit of the Games does not thrive on green grass. What I remember fondly about Atlanta are the outstanding moments of sports. Whenever I hear a crowd today in a stadium chanting “USA! USA! USA,” I think of the women’s team final in gymnastics in the Georgia Dome: a huge arena that later became a football stadium.
Gold and tears in the Georgia Dome – an unforgettable moment
The audience was on the verge of a breakdown when Kerri Strug, as the last US gymnast, took her second jump. She had injured herself on the first attempt, but the team needed a high score from her. So she took off again, soared through the air, and held her landing long enough for the judges to give her full credit for the jump. Then she collapsed, crawled off the mat, and was eventually carried off the podium by her coach. Gold and tears! Experiencing that live outweighs all of the organizational inadequacies of those Games.
Emotional highlight in Atlanta 1996: Coach Bela Karolyi carries the injured gymnast Kerri Strug off the podium.
The 1996 Atlanta Games were primarily a spectacle for the spectators; outside the stadiums and arenas, it was hardly felt that the biggest sporting event in the world was taking place. It was completely different in countries where sports are not just entertainment but part of the culture. I first experienced this in 2000 in Sydney, then in 2012 in London, and now again in Paris.
The stadiums are full, and in the subway, on the streets, you constantly encounter people radiating quiet happiness because they have experienced a beautiful moment full of emotions. These are also shaped by the unique venues. Beach volleyball in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, fencing under the glass dome of the Grand Palais, the cycling race is a trek up to Montmartre, where crowds gather along the roadside just like at the Tour de France. And as an encore, the dancers from the Moulin Rouge swing their legs.
There is no aggression; even the usually gruff French police officers are smiling. You might be tempted to stick a carnation in the barrel of their machine guns and ask them for a selfie. They would join in.
Security has been a theme that has accompanied me through all the Games. In Atlanta, there was a bombing that killed two people. What shocked me most was how the security guard who discovered the bomb and thus prevented worse was labeled the culprit and vilified in the American media. They claimed he staged everything to celebrate himself as a hero. They had a suspect, and the Games could go on. It wasn’t until 2003 that the true bomber, a far-right extremist, was caught.
It has long been normal for journalists to pass through security checkpoints outside the stadiums like those we know from airports. In 2002 in Salt Lake City, snipers stood on the roof of our hotel; in 2014 in Sochi soldiers were discovered lying under white camouflaged nets in the snow with their machine guns. Now in Paris, dozens of police officers are quartered at my hotel.
Well camouflaged: Soldier in Sochi at the Winter Games 2014.
There has been much discussion about the presence of police and military in Paris. This city witnessed the terrible massacre at the Bataclan in 2015, and France has since been repeatedly targeted by terrorists. I felt a heavy sense of dread as I approached the Stade de France entrance through a crowd on the first night of athletics. Here, in 2015, three attackers arrived too late; the people were already inside the stadium, and only one person lost their life when the Islamists detonated themselves. Now, dozens of security forces stand here, but they do not appear threatening; rather, they are reassuring.
But let’s talk about sports. The Olympic Games are often ego projects of states wanting to present themselves to the world. Sports act as a vehicle into which much is invested, but these investments are rarely sustainable. This was most clearly demonstrated in 2004 in Athens, where in a fit of Olympic grandeur, stadiums were hastily erected only to soon crumble into ruins.
Where sports are purely a means to a political end, the expertise among the audience also lacks. In the stands, you find nationalist hordes that only cheer for their countrymen. I experienced the low point in this regard in 2016 in Rio. In the pole vault, the Frenchman Renaud Lavillenie was mercilessly booed for every attempt because the Brazilian Thiago Braz was competing against him for gold. Braz won, and the next day Lavillenie was awarded his silver medal amidst a chorus of whistles.
An audience without respect for their opponent: In Rio de Janeiro in 2016, the local pole vault winner, Thiago Braz, is celebrated while second-placed Frenchman Renaud Lavillenie is booed.
I have experienced the pandemic Games twice, empty stadiums, and a kind of isolation confinement in hotels accessible only to journalists. In 2021 in Tokyo, the organizers provided us with taxi vouchers. I sat alone in the back and marveled at how the driver sped down the empty city highway as if he too wanted to set an Olympic record. Then I ate curry sitting on a curb with my colleagues, which we had ordered from a delivery service. This was forbidden, but the parking guard looked the other way.
PCR test before breakfast at the pandemic Games
In Beijing, every morning before breakfast in winter 2022, we underwent a PCR test by a woman in a protective suit and diving goggles. Her eyes smiled, and so did mine. As we were transported to the mountain, we saw that there were indeed people moving outside. It was said that the discos in the city center were open again. In the country that had given us the coronavirus, we foreigners embodied the health risk. But the Swiss alpine skiers won five gold medals, and I was much closer than before to Games with an audience.
Lonely Games: Due to the corona pandemic, no foreign visitors were allowed at the Winter Games in China 2022.
In Paris, it seems that all that was missed during the pandemic is being compensated. Athletes are carried by the euphoric audience. You can look wherever you want: table tennis, BMX, canoe slalom – everywhere the stands are full, singing, shouting, cheering.
This is certainly related to the fact that the French athletes are succeeding like never before. But it is also because this people loves sports in all its facets and can look back on a rich tradition almost everywhere. I realize this when I watch the studio broadcast on France 2 before dozing off, where even in the most absurd niche sport, a former Olympic champion or a former medalist shares stories from the sidelines.
The host of this show was already tempted after one week to claim that the Games had reunited the country torn apart by the dissolution of parliament and the hastily scheduled elections. In fact, the political truce declared by President Emmanuel Macron is being observed. But I have learned that the Olympic spirit is a fleeting fellow. When the flame is extinguished at the end of the closing ceremony, the old reality quickly returns.
Bringing the beach to the city: Beach volleyball in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.
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