Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

In about half an hour, Earl and I head to the finals of Drum Corps International; but while we’re getting ready, I’m surfing the Beijing Olympics. I’m a sucker for Olympic coverage, especially since both of my sons were born just before the summer Olympics of 1968 and 1972, and I spent many nighttime hours feeding them and watching. The latter was particularly memorable because of the assault on and demise of the Jewish team.

In particular, I remember those 2 AM feedings with my younger son, waiting to learn the fate of those Israeli men. In the end, all perished. That same year, the Vietnam War ended and I watched with my newborn son as the man whose MIA bracelet I wore came home. Emotional moments, all.

Now we come to Beijing. It can be a political football or an athlete’s dream, depending on what the media chooses. For myself, I wish the Olympics were as free of political discussion as possible, although I realize that’s a living-in-a-bubble concept. President Bush punctured it; the death of the American earlier today did too.

So far, I’ve watched smatterings of boxing, volleyball, and swimming. I don’t have a handle on who could win, and I certainly don’t have an opinion about the American who was killed earlier today. What I would wish is that the Olympic spirit of sportsmanship will trump the world-weary spirit of politics. In other words, I’m rooting for the athlete’s dream.