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[Times photo: Michael Rondou]
Sydney Harbor is lighted by fireworks that began over the Olympic Stadium.
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The memories of these Games will last long after the fireworks over Sydney Harbor fade.
By GARY SHELTON
© St. Petersburg Times, published October 2, 2000
SYDNEY, Australia -- If I were Lithuanian looking at these Closing Ceremonies, I would remember the basketball in the air. I would want one more shot at the United States. And yes, I would want Sarunas Jasikevicius to take it.
If I were Nigerian, I would remember the tears of Glory Alozie, the silver medalist in the 100-meter hurdles, who won while grieving the death of fiance Hyginus Anugo, who was killed by a car in Sydney just before the Games. And I would consider Glory an excllent choice of name.
If I were Australian, I would remember the way Cathy Freeman lit up the night at the Opening Ceremonies, and the way she unified the country the night of the 400 meters. I would try to get to know her better before she runs for parliament.
But I am American. And I will remember Marion Jones. Given the chance, I would tell her that three golds and two bronzes, really, is plenty.
If I were Romanian, I would send Andreea Raducan a medal to try to replace what has been taken from her in the name of cold tablets. But I wouldn't send Andrei Mateias, the weightlifter who is threatening a hunger strike, as much as a sandwich.
If I were Timorese, I would fall to my knees the way marathoner Augida Amaral did upon finishing third-to-last in the women's race and kiss the ground. Because it is my ground, and because Amaral is my Olympian.
If I were Australian, I would suggest that long jumper Jai Taurima keep the cigarettes and beer he trains on. But, honestly, the guy should get a haircut before he starts getting Emo Phillips' mail.
But I am American, and frankly, I think the men's 400 relay team team ought to be sent to bed without supper.
If I were Turkish, I would applaud Naim Suleymanoglu, the "Pocket Hercules," one more time. Yeah, he missed his lift. But how long is a 4-foot-11 strongman supposed to lift a nation, anyway?
If I were Korean, I would remember the Opening Ceremonies, the way athletes from the North and South marched together.
If I were Bulgarian, I would remember the drug scandals. Also, I would wonder if C.J. Hunter is looking for a new place to live.
But I am American, and what I will remember is Teresa Edwards, sitting in the middle of the court, saying goodbye to basketball at the age of 36.
If I were Sri Lankan, I would remember the pain of Susanthika Jayasinghe, who says she is looking for a new country. I would want to know the name of the sports minister she says demanded sex from her, then framed her for drugs afer she refused.
If I were Kuwaiti, I would be even more upset at my local TV stations than most Americans. Hey, because of the way the athletes are dressed, they didn't show beach volleyball.
If I were Russian, I would remember the twisted scowl on the face of Alexander Karelin as he tasted defeat for the first time in 12 years. I would check on Russian eBay to see if I could buy Karelin's silver medal for a ruble and a half.
But I am American, and I will remember Rulon Gardner and that funny little victory somersault. I will remember his joy juxtaposed against Karelin's outrage. And I will get Vince McMahon on the phone right away.
If I were Australian, I would remember the way all the American journalists actually ate that vegemite stuff. Then I would wonder if enough was left to lube the Jeep.
If I were Kazakstanian, I would be outraged that the world thinks of my country as drug cheats. But I have to admit, I'd wonder about the coach caught with 15 vials of human growth hormone. I'd wonder if it was really, really a cure for baldness, as he said.
If I were Cuban, I would talk about boxing a lot, especially about Felix Savon. I don't think I would bring up baseball at all.
But I am American. And as such, I have to put up with Tommy Lasorda, still talking. Please, please, please do not let him be my seatmate on the flight home.
If I were from Trinidad & Tobago, I would chuckle at Ato Boldon. I would remember that when asked about what he might receive from Trinidad & Tobago if he won the 100 meters, Boldon answered, "Tobago."
If I were Australian, I would look at the magnificence of Darling Harbor, and I would think about 2012, and I would say, "Yep. Reminds me of The Pier."
If I were a Swede, I would remember my third straight silver medal in men's team handball. And I would wonder who put Thurman Thomas in goal.
But I am American. And I will remember Esther Kim, who surrendered her spot on the taekwondo team by refusing to fight an injured teammate in the trials final. Some people don't need medals to be admired.
If I were French, I would remember that Jose-Marie Perec had a record-setting run in these Games. I would try not to remember it was to the airport to beat it out of town.
If I were Equatorial Guinean, I would remember Eric Moussambani wallowing in the pool. For Christmas, I would think water wings.
If I were Chinese, I'd point to the ratings and say "Look, 275-million Americans don't give a damn."
But I am American, and I'm trying to remember: When, exactly, did we give up boxing, gymnastics and synchronized swimming? Oh, well. At least we have the modern pentathlon.
If I were from Qatar, and I had spent that much money for used weightlifters and all I got was a bronze, I'd want my money back.
If I were Colombian, I would remember Maria Isabel Urrutia winning the nation's first gold medal. I would not be able to wait until the Colombian Sports Illustrated came out.
If I were Irish, I would remember ... Atlanta. But I'd still be annoyed at Michelle Smith.
But I am American, and I think it's high time our country discovered Brooke Bennett.
If I were Danish, I would be angry at the way Muhammed Dahmani lost a gold medal to an Australian in taekwondo. I would suggest it was home cooking, but after tasting Australian food, that's a terrible thing to accuse.
If I were French, I'd remember the gold medal basketball final. And I'd say to an American: "You dream about that team?"
If I were Russian, I would mourn every day solid that Tatiana Grigorieva moved to Australia.
But I am American. And I am torn between the shutout thrown by Ben Sheets for the baseball team and Bela Karolyi of the gymnastics team.
If I were Italian, I would still be chuckling over swimming gold medalist Massi Rosolino's suggestion of what they were going to find when they drug tested him: "Parmigiana and spaghetti."
If I were Moroccan, I would remember Hicham El Guerrouj's tears in defeat, and I would think maybe it's time to get off the guy's back.
If I were Australian, I would think I could get a little more time on TV if I combined the shooting events with, say, Survivor. All the shooters go into the woods, and the last three standing win the medals.
But I am American. And in the end, I'll try to remember some of it all.
Except, of course, for the vegemite.
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