Mettle, not medals, may most define the Tokyo Olympiad.
Not that there haven't been athletic achievements of greatness and grace. But grit — from the competitors, their families, Japan and even the beleaguered International Olympic Committee — has best embodied the Olympic spirit in 2021.
Athletes, whose goals of achieving the Olympic motto of "Faster, Higher, Stronger," probably weren't feeling the "Together" ethos that was added to the motto right before these Games, especially as they worked out at home instead of Olympic training centers because of pandemic lockdowns.
But for the most part, the rust hasn't shown. There's been more examples of "iron sharpening iron," as gold medal 400-meter hurdle winner Sydney McLaughlin described racing against her teammate Dalilah Muhammad. Both runners broke the previous world record, even though Muhammad finished second.
That's the same result Rai Benjamin, an American, had in the men's version of the race: A world-record time, only to finish behind Norwegian Karsten Warholm.
Norway is in no way a track superpower, but as in many sports in these unpredictable Olympics, greatness is coming from anywhere, and out of nowhere. Israeli gymnast Artem Dolgopyat, for instance, won his country's only second gold ever (just as Israel won a long-delayed Opening Ceremonies recognition of its murdered athletes in the 1972 Munich Games).
Other competitors with other unexpected medals have given their country something to cheer about amid bleak times. Among them have been Brazilian gymnast Rebeca Andrade, one of eight children of a poor single mother from a favela. Andrade became a national hero in a country that needs one: Brazil has been laid low with high levels of infection and ineffectual, ideological governance.
Similarly, Ahmed Hafnaoui, a tenacious Tunisian teenager, became a national hero after he stunned the swimming world (well, actually, the world) by winning the men's 400-meter freestyle the same week his country, which emerged with the only quasi-democracy from the Arab Spring, saw a political winter descend when the Tunisian president suspended Parliament in what his critics call a coup.
Among other countries' competitors who have made rare trips to medal ceremonies have been Nora Gjakova from Kosovo in judo, Hidilyn Diaz, a Filipino weightlifter, Bermuda's Flora Duffy in the women's triathlon, Kosovo's Majlinda Kelmendi in judo, and Estonia's Katrina Lehis and Hong Kong's Ka Long Cheung, who both won gold in fencing.
But for the most part, geopolitical superpowers have been global sport superpowers, too, with China leading the gold medal count through Friday. The U.S. leads in overall medals, followed by China and the Russian Olympic Committee, the thinly veiled name for Russia, which should have been banned for its state-sponsored doping scheme instead of only facing fig-leaf penalties.
But the International Olympic Committee (IOC) was more sturdy oak than fig leaf when it came to the case of Krystsina Tsimanouskaya, the Belarusian sprinter who dashed to Warsaw when authorities from authoritarian Belarus tried to hustle her back to Minsk after she criticized coaches on Instagram. In an episode evoking the Cold War, IOC and Japanese officials ensured her safety at the airport, and she was given a humanitarian visa from Poland, lest she face retribution from the repressive regime of Alexander Lukashenko, rightly referred to as "Europe's last dictator."
Japan, conversely, is a model democracy, and Prime Minister Yoshihide Suga's ruling party might take a hit for hosting the Games amid strong opposition from most Japanese citizens. But so far, the decision looks like leadership: Precautionary protocols for athletes have kept them, and the coronavirus, mostly confined. More than 11,000 athletes from 206 countries were slated to compete at the Games; through Thursday, 29 had tested positive, although it's unclear if they contracted COVID in Tokyo.
Pro athletes across the world have tested positive, too, and their leagues have proceeded. Another Olympic postponement may have meant a cancellation altogether, and there's no certainty that the pandemic will truly end anytime soon as surges are seen worldwide. That includes China, where a version of the mitigation measures in Tokyo may need to be deployed when Beijing hosts the 2022 Winter Games in just six months.
So a coronavirus controversy will likely shade those games, too. But an even darker shadow will be China's horrendous human rights record, which will lead to calls for a boycott, or at minimum, more frequent protests from athletes, an issue that the IOC is already wrestling with.
Athletes have wrestled with issues as well, and in several prominent cases private issues became public ones, starting with star tennis player Naomi Osaka, who withdrew from the French Open after opening up about her mental health challenges. Osaka, an inspired choice to be the final torchbearer, was able to illuminate this issue even further at the Olympics. And Simone Biles shined an even brighter flame on mental health after she withdrew from several events, and days later American track star Noah Lyles became the latest to talk about his own struggles.
The support from teammates and rivals has been genuine, suggesting a bond between youthful athletes that transcends the political splits between their elders. Indeed, there have been several seminal moments of athletes reaching out across lane lines and beyond borders, with many such instances becoming viral sensations.
But just as the web connects cultures, it may be disconnecting some from traditional viewing. Instant internet alerts took the suspense out of the recorded portion of NBC's prime-time presentations. This is just one of many interrelated reasons ratings have halved in prime time compared to the 2016 Games.
But if fewer viewers have the shared experience, the shared humanity of unscripted responses like family reactions at watch parties have made the connection between community and athlete more palpable, and powerful. In just two examples out of many, the mostly Hmong gathering that watched Suni Lee win her medal in the all-around competition was a golden moment for an ethnic group that has so enriched Minnesota, and America. And far from St. Paul in Seward, Alaska, the explosive cheers at the high school watch party for teenage swimmer Lydia Jacobs evoked joy well beyond the small community.
Yet perhaps the most remarkable moment that has delivered the "Together" ethos was when high jumpers Gianmarco Tamberi of Italy and Mutaz Barshim of Qatar were tied and agreed to share the gold medal. So instead of a jump-off, Tamberi jumped into Barshim's arms in an exuberant display of sportsmanship. "I know for a fact that for the performance that I did, I deserve that gold," Barshim told reporters. "He did the same thing, so I know he deserved that gold. This is beyond sport. This is the message we deliver to the young generation."
It's a message repeated in some form or fashion at every Olympic Games, no matter the challenges. And it contemporizes the Olympic creed adopted over a century ago: "The important thing in life is not the triumph, but the fight; the essential thing is not to have won, but to have fought well."
The athletes, their families, Japan, and the IOC have fought well. And in doing so they will have triumphed.
