The regular Olympics are over. Sigh! My friends and I gathered in the Marais Sunday evening to watch the Closing Ceremony, held in the Stade de France, north of Paris in Saint Denis. The evening before I watched one of the most exiting basketball games I’ve ever seen: Team USA vs Team France, a rematch from the Tokyo Olympics that the Americans won, a fourth Olympic win for Team USA. This year’s team was made up of Steph Curry, Lebron James, Kevin Durant, a handful of others, and coached by the Warrior’s Coach, Steve Kerr. Team France was captained by Wemby, short for Victor Wembanyama, who was a rookie in the NBA this year for the San Antonio Spurs. I didn’t recognise other French names although there were two other NBA players. Team France was rabid to beat USA and it showed. At times, they were like gladiators circling each other, poking at each other, butting up, not “quite on purpose,” against each other. There were many fouls and many free throws. The score stayed close until the last quarter when Curry shifted up a gear and started throwing three-pointers. The US went ahead and France couldn’t catch up.
I was waving a French flag. I really wanted to be for my adopted country. But I knew all the American’s names and caught myself cheering with each basket before I could pull the words back. By half-time, I couldn’t keep up the pretence and cheered the US on. By the end of the game, with each three-pointer Curry shot, I was out of my seat screaming “unbelievable.” Each shot followed by his trademark sign, putting both hands up to one check implying ‘night, night’. The final score was 98-87. Team France looked devastated. Wemby was distraught. One of the American players came up and hugged him then whispered in his ear for 90 seconds. Wemby sat down on the bench and cried. Only in France.
I didn’t see either team at the Closing Ceremony.
Earlier that day, six of us had “billets libres” to Concorde where all the “Street” events were taking place: BMX, Skateboarding, Breaking (still known in the US as Breakdancing). Our tickets didn’t allow us seats at any of the competitions but we were free to wander the entire space, attend all demonstrations, and be seated in front of DiamondVision when the competitions were taking place. We mostly focused on Breaking. It is a sport no matter who says differently. A breathtaking, energetic, athletic sport that seemed to me to be as skilful as the artistic gymnastics. This was the first time it was in the Olympics and, unfortunately, the last time. It will not be present at LA28.
My friends and I lost each other in the undulating crowds. I stayed with Cherilyn. We found a curb in the shade (it was close to 90o) that looked up at the DiamondVison in the competition area. Our responses to each contestant were emotional. Scores went up on the board but we couldn’t read what was scored or how it was scored. What we did know is that two Breakers at a time entered the platform and lent energy to each other while also competing against that person. There were two DJs who picked the sound (not known to the contestant in advance) that each contestant moved to. Each man then improvised. The strength in the arms, their fingers, the way they landed flips on their backs, or their knees, or on toes ready to jump into another flip was stunning. They never stopped moving, flipping, swirling, back and forth swinging their legs from side to side while changing arms, and that arm was all that was connected to the ground. I’m no good at describing this exhilarating sport. I hope the Olympic Committee reconsiders its removal at the next Olympics. Here in Paris, it was one of the more popular sports.
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Then it was Sunday night. I was tired. But I wasn’t going to miss the Closing Ceremony. It was supposed to be two hours and fifteen minutes but we learned at the Opening Ceremony, that France doesn’t run by the clock. The evening began with the flag bearers then the teams all pouring into the Stade de France, all happy and letting out alot of adrenaline. We got to see the champions act like children as they waved their medals at the camera. They were having fun and we loved it.
The women’s marathon had ended just before the ceremony so we were treated to a medal ceremony with the Dutch woman taking Gold, Ethiopia taking silver and Kenya taking bronze. Then everything went dark. The people who had tickets were given wrist bands when they entered and, as the lights went down, the wrist bands lit up. I turned to a friend and said “once upon a time, we just flicked on our cigarette lighters. Now it’s phones and, this time, we have techno wrist bands connected to some mother load somewhere.” Those my age nodded remembering.
There was a narration that was barely audible on the TV. I made out that we were starting in Greece at the first Olympics and then thirty or forty mummies emerged doing spectacular feats of bending, jumping, flipping all extolling the possibilities of the human body. Slowly huge circles appeared until there were finally five of them. The mummies climbed on them, did handstands, leaned out like we’d seen at Notre Dame at the Opening Ceremony. A red piano hanging in the air appeared with the pianist also hanging and, don’t ask me how, playing. I’m told that all who were present at the Closing Ceremony, were handed a program of explanation and a menu of what was happening and what it meant. We didn’t have that luxury and could only guess at the metaphorical imagery if that was what it was. The dance lasted twenty-two minutes, ending with the mummies pushing the circles in the air till they hung like the Olympic Circles. The mummies made a hill of people, that people climbed on until there was just one person, the Golden Voyager. It was a remarkable accomplishment of modern dance, hydraulics, and lights.
After two lengthy speeches by the President of the Olympic Committee, Tony Estanguet,and Thomas Back, President of IOC Refugee Olympic Team, people like me who, for no reason at all except to have an opinion, kept repeating: “please, no Tom Cruise.” Then Tom Cruise appeared at the top of the stadium, the very top, on what little roof there is. At 62 years of age, he still does many of his own stunts and today was no exception. He is one of the most well know faces of Hollywood here in France and the Top Guns and Mission Impossibles are the movies. He jumped from the top, repelled his way down into the crowd of athletes who grabbed their phones to take selfies. The Mayor of LA and Simone Biles handed him the Olympic flag and off he went. He jumped onto a motorcycle and cycled out into the streets of Paris. The rest had been video’d in advance. He cycled down the Quais along the Seine and into the back of a waiting plane. Two minutes later, he jumped out above Hollywood, took off his jumpsuit, parachute, and got his bearings. Then he began wacking away at a metal project. Soon an athlete came upon him and he handed her the Olympic flag. As she pulled away from him, we saw that he had added three more circles to the two in WOOD so the sign revealed the Olympic circles on the precious, never to be touched, Hollywood sign.
Ok, I had to admit, that was fun. The best of Tom Cruise: The Mission Impossible Handover!
What followed only underscored the difference between Paris and LA. We were taken to a beach shack on a beach that we weren’t sure really existed. The Red Hot Chilli Peppers sang and looked so American, Snoop and Dr. Dré, Billy Eilish all standing next to or on little stands and huts next to a huge ocean with fake palm trees. I didn’t say anything at the time but I’d bet 95% of us watching in Paris were glad we’d been to the Paris Olympics and had no excitement for the LA Olympics if that was a prevue.
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A Bientôt,
Sara
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