A Rooting Interest

A Rooting Interest

I’ve been watching the Olympics this past week. The other day a Romanian woman won the ladies marathon. Nancy and I cheered her on as she ran stride after stride after stride. We didn’t know her; had never heard her name before, but because we had stayed a little over two years in her native country, we couldn’t help but root for her.

Shortly thereafter, a young Tunisian swimmer beat out the favorite to win the gold medal in the men’s 1500 meter swimming final. We rooted him on, for we had spent a week’s vacation in his small North African country. We had something in common with both participants.

Mostly, we root for the Americans, although we know none of them. We share something in common, a country, and that’s why we cheer them on. That seems a slender thread though, for I’d rather support a man or lady that shared some of my personality, my outlook on life, rather than my country of birth. Unfortunately, there is no way to tell from the snapshots we see of their faces whether the athlete that competes has anything worthwhile inside. It is easy to tell that physically they are fine specimens, but who can tell what’s inside – if their heart is as compassionate as it is efficient in circulating oxygen?

In my opinion watching a sporting event without rooting for one side or the other is nearly pointless so I’ll stick with the American side unless some other compelling story emerges. But I do feel a sense of satisfaction when the little countries have a competitor that does well, but I know, in the ultimate outcome, my cheers to the television screen make not one iota of difference to the outcome. For if my screams had some effect the Redskins would win more often.