There’s nothing like viewing a rousing game of badminton to keep you on the edge of your seat. It’s somewhat better than watching paint dry or grass grow or something called “wakeboarding,” whatever that is.
This isn’t to cast aspersions on a lazy afternoon game we played as kids, swinging wildly at a feathered shuttlecock. But even played by “professionals,” it seems a stretch as an Olympic sport, one we found out in the London Games was badly manipulated.
Not so with wrestling, a core sport of both the ancient and modern Games. But if the International Olympic Committee (IOC) has its way, by 2020 the noble sport will be removed from the Games, most likely to be replaced by something esoteric that officials believe is more suitable today.
My son was a high-school wrestler and a pretty good one, too. I spent any number of hours watching him, twisting and turning with his every move, grunting at his exertion. Before he took it up, I had little experience either as a participant or a spectator, because my high school offered only the primary sports of the day: football, basketball, baseball and track.
I’d always thought of wrestling as one of those activities that only parents bothered to attend. Besides, I envisioned it as the theatrical performance of studied, controlled mayhem that early television made so popular. That was born out of pure, small-town ignorance. It was nothing of the kind. It was a scientifically calculated exercise of balance and leverage, testing not only physical strength but also mental acuity.
The first time I went to a meet, I was dumbfounded to find the gymnasium nearly filled with enthusiastic students and adults, including cheerleaders and other noisemakers and special effects typical at basketball or volleyball games. After the first few meets, I was hooked. My son wrestled at the top weight level; he could have done so in college but accepted a football scholarship instead.