THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, July 31, 1996 TAG: 9607310652
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C2 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Opinion
SOURCE: BY ANN G. SJOERDSMA, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 59 lines
It's getting so darned fashionable, even heroic, to be female in these days of Olympic ``Games'' that even I, a darned fashionable, heroic female in her own right - aren't we all? - am getting right sick of it.
I fear this is all pain, no gain. Can you spell b-a-c-k-l-a-s-h? How 'bout sports(wo)manship?
Not only is the male whining about NBC's female-focused coverage of the ``Games'' justified, it deserves a soprano (OK, so I'm an alto) voice.
GIVE ME SOME SPORTS, pleeezzz.
I'll even watch men in masks pointlessly punch each other in the face. Or a couple wrestling around on mats in their own icky sweat. Baseball. Cycling. Soccer. Any competition - remember that concept? - that doesn't feature pixies clasped in bearhugs and California girls at a country-club swim meet.
Don't get me wrong. I'll watch women's gymnastics until every last Dominique has written her autobiography. And all those muscular swimming and diving thighs induce me to pound the treadmill harder. But there's more to an Olympics than American women. I hear tell other athletes made the bus to Atlanta. May I see some of them, please?
Thirty-five-year-old Carl Lewis wins his fourth consecutive gold medal in the long jump and he's a taped highlight? Lord, girl, Jesse Jackson got more air time than ``King Carl.''
And Michael Johnson, ``The Man'' at these Games, commands center stage for not much longer than the 43.49 seconds it took him to win the 400 meters.
Once, there was strategy, even - yes - suspense, in track-and-field events. They unfolded. One jump, one vault, one gasp after the other. Now there are only TV-packaged pathos and red-white-and-blue salutes. Is this what sportswomen want?
Frankly, I'm ready to kick some NBC butt.
After a century of games, women are finally on the Olympic map, big-time. This is the year of the female athlete, beautiful, strong and gracious, and more important, the year of the Olympic spectator. You and me, girlfriends.
But they're doing us women simple-minded. That's a fact.
As NBC Sports president and Olympics co-executive producer Dick Ebersol has patiently explained to peeved reporters while his network's nightly ratings have skyrocketed, women don't want sports and competition. They want heartache and redemption. Soap operas and painted fingernails.
Women want to ``care'' about athletes - for at least five minutes before they watch them sink or swim, cry or fly, then move on.
I saw it coming in 1988 when my playground-unfriendly female friends gushed more over Flo-Jo's fingernails and hair than her speed.
Did you see that weave Gwen Torrence wore during the trials? Ha! Did she really think that thing would stay put? And have you seen the spikes on Gail Devers?
Hundred meters? How far is that?
It's enough to make a grown sports-minded woman cry. I never asked to be targeted, stereotyped or packaged by NBC. I never asked to be denied the beauty of sports, all sports, all athletes.
And I sure never asked for John Tesh.
All I wanted was to watch some games. Instead, I became fashionable. Oh, well. There's always football. by CNB