SAN DIEGO — The Summer Olympic Games begin next week in Japan with COVID-19 around its five rings, and while the XXXII Olympiad is most welcome, I worry about some of the glory going unregistered and jingoism relaxed.
Because this is an Olympics unlike any other.
Due to a pandemic millions of foolish Americans still consider fiction, fans, so much a part of the games, will not be allowed at venues. Only a Kawhi Leonard-handful of VIPs will be welcome at the once-delayed opening ceremony.
VIPs rightly are not considered fans.
I've covered three of them — L.A. in 1984, Barcelona in 1992, and Atlanta in 1996 — and when I think about Tokyo sans spectators, I go back to Barcelona, Aug. 9, 1992, in the hot and deeply humidified open-air stadium atop Montjuic.
It was the night of the men's 1,500, always a featured event — although, for whatever reason, Olympic metric miles are slow and all about failed strategy.
The favorite was Algeria's Noureddine Morceli, the world champion. He would finish seventh on this most memorable evening.
As the runners came around the final turn, a nondescript miler named Fermin Cacho was in the lead. He stepped it up. Nobody challenged. He won in a pedestrian 3:40.12.
The place went crazy. Cacho, you see, was a Spaniard.
That great Olympic moment can't happen in fanless Japan.
Can anyone remember the 20K walk in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics? People usually run away from boring walks. I remember that one. When the lead competitors entered the stadium, Jim McKay belted: "And in third place is a Mexican!"
Again, a mad house. Jose Pedraza Zuniga, adrenaline pumping, would finish second, becoming the first Mexican to win a medal in track and field.
That can't happen in Tokyo.
Perhaps the most memorable moment in my near-half-century in the newspaper dodge came at the Atlanta opening ceremony. The torch lighter always is a well-kept secret. That one was Manhattan Project-secret.
The stadium was dark, and as the torch runner approached the caldron, the spotlight came on — to Muhammad Ali, high above Centennial Olympic Stadium, shaking, but magnificent, still in command of the sporting world.
I had been to major fights Ali attended in retirement, the crowd chanting, "Ali! Ali!" as he entered the arena.
But it was nothing like the thunder that erupted as Muhammad created the lightning, putting the torch to the long fuse in Atlanta.
That can't happen again anywhere, but nothing close can occur in Tokyo.
L.A. Coliseum, 1984. Opening ceremony. Chills, as Rafer Johnson, stoic and majestic, put flame to the torch.
These are the types of moments only VIPs will see live in Tokyo.
The Olympics are about feats, surprises and memories. There will be feats and surprises in Japan, but I fear some of the memories will be a bit hollow, not being fueled by the roar of the crowd.
I love the Olympics, but it's going to be different, watching athletes waving their respective flags to empty seats.
Still, the show will go on, and it's better than no show at all.
