Welcome back to the Olympics — a real one this time

PARIS — It was a cold night in an outdoor stadium in the mountains of South Korea, the closing ceremony to the 2018 Winter Olympics.

Athletes walked in the Parade of Nations, all with beaming smiles, some wearing shiny medals around their neck. A K-pop boy band performed. So did a local children's choir. International Olympic Committee president Thomas Bach declared the prior 16 days a grand success, dubbing them “The Games of New Horizons.”

Little did anyone know what was on that horizon.

COVID-19. Controversy. Isolation. Absurdity.

The Olympics haven’t been the Olympics since that night near PyeongChang, making Friday’s rekindling of the cauldron in Paris even that much more anticipated. If virtually everyone else in the world has moved on from the pandemic, it is finally the Olympics’ turn to return to normalcy.

So welcome to the Olympics. A real one this time.

Oh, there will be questions and concerns as the Summer Games begin in France this week; it’s just more of the common kind. Local protests. Homelessness. Wasted money. Banned countries. International politics. A questionable judge's decisions, no doubt.

It’s different though from what the athletes and organizers just went through.

Beijing 2022 was overwhelmed by visions of hazmat-clad workers disinfecting the outside of bus tires as cries over a state crackdown, fears of being swept off to a dystopian quarantine “hotel” and the shadow of abuse of the Uyghurs in Northwest China.

Tokyo 2020 actually occurred in 2021, delayed and diminished as a scaled-down and bubbled-up Games. Athlete movement was electronically monitored, meals were to be eaten alone behind partitions and if you dared going outside, the searing heat might drain you.

The restrictions were obsessive — well intended perhaps, but occasionally taken to unnecessary, or even unhealthy, extremes.

“We weren't under the best circumstances,” noted Simone Biles.

An Olympic-sized understatement.

There were no fans. No families either. Games for both Olympiads were played in empty stadiums. Triumphant national anthems echoed off desolate grandstands.

The Olympic Village, generally a place of friendship and support and even (post-competition) partying — a respite from the most intense of physical and mental challenges — was about fearful confinement.

The testing was relentless, starting at the airport arrival gate. Loneliness was demanded, fueled by worries of a knock at the door informing of a test gone bad. In China that meant not just being barred from competition, but sent to spartan quarters to wait out multiple negative tests performed by a controlling, communist regime.

“I cry every day,” Russian biathlete Valeria Vasnetsova wrote on Instagram. “I want all this to end.”

“My heart can’t take it,” echoed Polish speedskater Natalia Maliszewska.

The Olympic spirit it was not. Once competition was over — generally a time of legendary unwinding (organizers have long handed out tens of thousands of condoms in the Village) — athletes were commanded to leave within 48 hours. Most didn’t wait that long to escape.

There was no good way to host an Olympics during a pandemic, of course. Just staging them at all was probably a logistical success worthy of a Michael Phelps haul of gold medals.

Yet few look back wistfully. As the world again gathers this week, this time in Paris no less, the memories of daily Chinese swabs seemingly scraping brains and Japanese safety workers wiping down goal posts during halftime of outdoor soccer games have slowly, thankfully, mercifully faded.

From all corners of the Earth, young athletes watch the Olympics on television and then, duly inspired, work their entire life to reach this singular goal — to just get there, let alone medal. No one expects dystopia.

They expect … Paris.

Strolling around the Eiffel Tower. A big family dinner at a street cafe near Notre Dame. Attending other events. Hearing the roars of the crowd. Camaraderie with competitors — from the village breakfast table to the post-competition nightclub.

Laissez les bons temps rouler.

“The stage is set: the athletes are ready, all of France is ready,” Bach said last week. “All of us are looking forward to an unforgettable celebration of Olympic sport and French culture.”

Not by accident, Paris organizers are attempting to stage the most inclusive and public Olympics ever — it’s slogan is “Games Wide Open.” The Opening Ceremony isn't in a stadium viewable only by ticket holders, but featuring each nation’s athletes floating on boats about 3.5 miles down the Seine.

Six million of the nine million tickets sold were capped at 50 euros (about $55 American) or less. Numerous events are outdoor, offering views from surrounding areas. Some 40,000 have signed up to run the marathon route just hours before the actual marathon.

As best as Paris can, it wants everything to be seamless — athletes and the public, city and competition. Basically the exact opposite of what was Tokyo and Beijing.

The backdrop of the world remains a challenge, but that’s common for the Olympics as well. There is war on the continent, discord between nations (and even inside of nations). There is poverty, injustice and challenges.

"The world is torn apart by so much conflict and division, people everywhere are fed up with all the hate, wars, aggression and fake news," Bach acknowledged.

He and his organization have long cozied up with dictators and totalitarians, so he's an odd messenger. Still, the Games at its best tries to rise above that. It brings people together. It builds bridges.

If nothing else, it's meant to be fun.

In Paris, that is at least possible.

So, 6 1/2 years later, welcome back to the Olympics.

A real one this time. A real one, at last.