Ames Progressive

With the Bush II Era entering the Nolan Ryan Texas Ranger stage it remains difficult to comprehend that such a twisted simpleton with disclaimed ties to a higher, omnipotent and benevolent force can still sway the lack of progress for an entire race. But in the last months of his reign of the silenced majority it only appears both fitting and devastating that the Olympics could present the final opportunity for him to utter more flabbergasting insults at other nations deemed enemies and cajole his crony nations in a country metaphorically holding the torch into the 21st century of superpower competition.

The battle lines blur with each step forward like a mirage so menacing and opaque that one needs to breathe and feed the mind with a wavering flow of calmness to not completely lose grip of it all. And maybe that is why prominent figures shy away from the role of spokesperson for justice and equality. As the information outlets multiply quicker than a roach in heat our base for understanding world events and right from wrong surely distorts. But as a grand and ripe exhibition for unity approaches I temper down my radical illusions of breaking down soulless corporations and callous leaders forming as the King and Queen on this human chess board of control. Instead I ask for humanity to shine through.

A genocide ripping apart my faith in decency and living from the pockets of a Chinese government set on dethroning our own Big Brother here in the United States of Hypocrisy remains a hellacious cloud shrouding over the attempted peaceful games set for next month. Growing up as an American Jew 50 years after the Holocaust, the lessons taught by my forbearers from an utterly stultifying era in recent history now fall under a survivalist umbrella that demands protection for one race with other inhumane affairs forcing the weak to adopt the advantages of technology and defend themselves without outside influence. I avoid shredding into the Zionist movement determined on expelling Palestinians from The Promised Land because our book rings with prophecy while theirs reeks of undelivered fantasy. Distribute all the “Save Darfur” wristbands you want but accept the paradox that a group of people still burned by the indifference of the self-proclaimed carriers of liberty have chosen, like most of the billionaire-leeching parasites of the world, to concentrate all efforts on winning more of our Creator’s finite land.

My current position and inclination toward simplifying manmade complex issues diverts this article from the politically intriguing to a call for…some humanity.

No slogan can save us from destruction and turmoil but I continue to stumble into our long-lasting plague of hurt with a spiritual elixir to keep us flying past the perpetual act of war: Let’s go from me to we. Had to go elementary on you and lose some of that hard-hitting prose. Peers slip into an abyss of self-absorption that shrinks the world down to the size of a Manhattan block. Words may not drill in the idea of collective effort and progression but I’m thinking a handful of those athletes, not saber-rattling, job-cutting, legislation-barking ambassadors, might soak in the beauty of the Olympics and propagate the idea of good sportsmanship.

So I’m not talking about a John Carlos and Tommy Smith subtly momentous rebuke of oppression in the Mexico City Games in 1968. I’m not depending on Jagger and Richards to show up in Beijing and crank a little Street Fighting Man - “Ev’rywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy. ‘Cause summer’s here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy.”

I’m asking for something that will not jeopardize someone’s career by attacking those in power. No one knows how far the rabbit hole goes and where those with the real money linger and how quick they can terminate a person’s reputation. The devious game of politics always seeps into international athletic competition. Sports cannot exist in a vacuum and interconnection demands a pristine image from all involved.

My low-risk solution asks athletes on the platform, with a microphone in their faces and with a an overdone and sappy human interest story montage based on their travails to speak of the Olympic experience. As much as LeBron James wants to avoid interacting with someone not draped in the red, white and blue, there’s bound to be a conversation with someone rocking different colors and speaking with a heavy accent while giving a go at English. But that’s LeBron James - an athlete who can stand side-by-side with anyone rolling down Rodeo. Hundreds of other athletes from the United States enter the scene with a more humbled perspective as whether win or lose they can certainly appreciate the road taken by everyone to arrive at their destination. So speak up. Remind me that beneath the skin we bleed just the same. Or how regardless of story we all have the ability to empathize. Pay homage to someone swimming under the auspices of what our fear-pumping President calls the enemy. Sling kudos at a sprinter dashing for a nation torn asunder. You’re a person first, an athlete second and an citizen of the United States for the sake of paperwork.

In the past month, intense interest from overseas sporting events, the Euro Cup and Wimbledon, has prompted pundits here to say neither soccer not tennis would enter the mainstream here in the states due to a xenophobic perspective belying the immigrant-driven history of our country that abides by the words written on the Statue of Liberty. For me, I no longer display any semblance of patriotism as my socialist ideology calls for us to tear down barriers. However, a connection based on location will presumably inspire me to root for those representing my country just as I did during the World Baseball Classic in ‘06. That wish for the United States to dominate does not equate into a superior belief that our nation and its people own a superior lot in this world. Humble yourself young athlete and convey a sense of egalitarianism.

The fight does not need to be held against the merciless or callous. We just need to speak for us. Us in terms of you, me, him and her. Except that fuck nut wearing a sneer beaming with a glint of stupid terror. Maybe a straight up “Fuck Bush” chant could add a subversive element to the festivities that we desperately need.