by John Furlong
It was clear as we headed into the home stretch that although we were not going to reach our goal of being atop the podium, our athletes were definitely starting to enjoy more success—everywhere. And so many great Canadian stories were being written in the process. Not many people were giving Jasey-Jay Anderson, a veteran of so many Olympics and Olympic disappointments, a chance in the men’s parallel giant slalom. But with the support of a country at his back, he pulled off the unthinkable and won gold. We also won gold at the short track and our women took more gold in bobsleigh.
The country was captivated by the enthralling performance of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir in the ice dance, another gold for Canada. The next morning they came to the Olympic cauldron for an interview with CTV, and I wandered over to share my happiness for them and tell them how proud we all were. Tessa, both classy and humble, held my hand warmly and told me she and Scott had sat in on an earlier presentation I had given where I had told the audience what the Games were going to do for our country. They both told me how I had inspired them to pour their hearts into these Olympics. That was a tall moment for me, with two beautiful Canadians who have inspired thousands of our youth to dream big.
And what more could be said about the amazing Clara Hughes, one of the finest Canadian Olympians ever, a woman whose first instinct is always to help others. What an inspiration! I can’t wait to see what she does with the rest of her life—she has so much to offer. Her bronze in the ladies’ 5000-metre speed skating event was such a wonderful capper to one of the truly great Olympic careers in our country’s history.
I was in the crowd at Cypress when Ashleigh McIvor won gold in ski cross in front of a delirious crowd. A week earlier I had run into her and her boyfriend, teammate Chris Del Bosco, who was a medal hopeful in a men’s event. They seemed so relaxed and happy. I stopped to see how they were doing and I could tell from Ashleigh’s words, delivered in her modest way, that we were about to see something special from her. And we did. I think she visualized that golden moment a thousand times before it happened.
Despite the second-half surge by our athletes, there was still plenty of hand-wringing going on about the performance of the Canadian team. Forget first place, would we even finish in the top three, the media wondered. Chris Rudge seemed to be getting asked about Own the Podium just about every day. To me, it seemed bizarre that he was even having to defend it, but he was. By the end of the Games there weren’t many who weren’t giving OTP the credit for our best Olympics ever.
With just two days to go, it dawned on more than a few that a record medal haul was a possibility for Canada. All of a sudden history was there to be seized. We ended up winning 14 gold medals, the most ever by a host nation—and a total of 26 medals, also our best ever.
Outside of the field of play, the athletes were having the time of their lives. I made a point of visiting with them at the Athletes’ Villages in Whistler and Vancouver, and the competitors I talked to couldn’t have been more complimentary about the experience they were having. The ones lucky enough to be staying in Vancouver were absolutely blown away by the accommodations, and why wouldn’t they be? They were the most luxurious Olympic digs ever, with million-dollar views. No wonder so many athletes told me they didn’t want to leave.
Both villages were in such contrast to the ones in Turin in 2006, where the rooms were drafty, there weren’t enough blankets and the food was not good. We wanted to give the athletes the best experience. We wanted to make sure they were well protected while not suffocating them with our security arrangements. Time and again, the athletes would stop to be photographed with the police who embraced them so fully.
Everywhere I went now, whether it was to a competition, a medals ceremony, an event hosted by one of the provinces or a major sponsor, the feedback was the same: people were having the time of their lives. There wasn’t a person who didn’t seem happy, thrilled actually, that we had weathered the storms of the first few days and now had the wind at our backs. Even IOC members who had seemed to be hedging their bets in the early going, afraid to associate with an organizing committee that was having a few teething problems, couldn’t say enough good things about us now. I could only smile and savour how hard my team had worked to pull it all together.
The downtown streets of Vancouver had become an Olympic lovefest, a huge organic party at which everyone was welcome. On the night our Canadian hockey women won their gold over their arch rival the U.S., I found myself standing on the second level of the International Broadcast Centre after doing an interview. I could hear the crowds outside singing “O Canada.” Perfect strangers by the thousands, suddenly arm in arm, happy in the moment. Wild, happy patriotism was breaking out across the country. We were 34 million behaving as one.
During the closing days, every event seemed to top the one before it. Celebration Plaza in Whistler was electric every night as locals jammed every square metre of space. BC Place was at capacity every night as every athlete who arrived to collect his or her medal was treated as a hero. It didn’t matter where they were from. Donald Sutherland, meanwhile, was like Waldo. He was everywhere. Wayne Gretzky too. Premier Campbell was running on empty cheering on the Olympic team from dawn to dark. Federal Sport Minister Gary Lunn was hoarse from screaming encouragements and the prime minister and Governor General were giving it all they had. It was as if the entire country was chasing something it wanted badly. The Games seemed to be touching everyone. Kings and queens, princes and princesses. Like a stone tossed into a pool of water, the Games were creating beautiful ripples.
The Games had become everything I had hoped for, if not more. The country had stopped what it was doing to put on its Team Canada jerseys and cheer. Every time I paused to think about the public’s enthusiasm for even a second, I had to be careful.
It was easy to get overly emotional about what was taking place.
13
The Closing Curtain
AS LONG AND sometimes painful as the first few days felt, I was stunned at how quickly the Games were flying by. One day I was walking onstage to welcome the world to Vancouver and the next I was thinking about what I would say during the closing ceremonies.
I was physically and mentally exhausted by that point, but a full tank of adrenaline and nervous excitement were enough to keep me fuelled up. There was still a huge day to get through and a gold medal hockey game to watch. In other words, there was a lot still to happen on that closing Sunday, a lot that could still go terribly wrong and spoil the amazing atmosphere that had built up around the Games during the previous couple of weeks.
Dave Cobb and I met for breakfast at our usual time. All of a sudden, he was looking a little younger and less tense. We talked through preparations for the closing ceremonies, the potential for mayhem at the hockey final and the security and transportation arrangements that were going to be such a big part of the day’s success. We also discussed the protest that was planned and the impact it might have on people’s efforts to get to the ceremonies.
We did not want a repeat of what happened on opening day, when the best efforts of the police caused havoc to our transportation system. There were media obligations that I would need to take care of that morning, and there was an important 50-kilometre cross-country ski race in Whistler. A huge thing weighing on my mind was the speech I was going to have to give at the closing, particularly the French parts.
I planned to take the prime minister’s advice and speak French as early in the speech as possible, but even his guidance and strategic suggestions weren’t going to make it any easier. Some of the reviews from my effort during the opening were still blistering in my ears. I had received a little coaching over the previous couple of weeks on my pronunciation, but it was like trying to teach an English-speaking person Gaelic. I also didn’t want to put words in the speech just because they might be easier to say. I wanted every word to have meaning, to count, to have earned its way into the speech. The more I thought about it all, the more stressed I g
ot. Why hadn’t I taken French more seriously in school?
But my primary mission in the speech was to thoughtfully convey, or at least attempt to convey, what had happened in the country over the previous 16 days. Yes, Canada had, at other times, celebrated loudly as a nation. But it said something about us, I think, that when you asked people about the last time they saw the country so elated, so proud, they often mentioned Canada’s win over Russia in the 1972 hockey series. That was the last time we were so magically transfixed in every village, town and city at the same time over the same thing.
I don’t think there’s any question that the true personality of the country came out during the Games, and the entire world saw a side of us it didn’t know was there. There were probably many who thought that we normally sober, self-effacing Canadians had received a personality transplant. However you describe the atmosphere, it was noticed and felt. Perhaps Jacques Rogge said it best when he said the IOC had never seen the Games embraced by its hosts on this scale before.
Never again were people going to say about Canadians that we were quiet, bashful, unpatriotic types. Never again were they going to say that we weren’t flag wavers or that we weren’t disposed to wearing our love of country on our sleeves. Time and again I heard the words “I have never been more proud to be Canadian.” The Games showed we were more than happy to wear our patriotism on our sleeves, heads, chests, feet—and especially on our hands. Olympic Red Mittens had become the official hand-warmer of the country, and more than a few pair had made their way to the far corners of the globe. Everyone, it seemed, became Canadian for a fortnight and it felt great.
But the biggest indication of how smitten the country was with what was going on in Vancouver and Whistler was certainly in the television numbers, beginning with the opening ceremonies, when more than 13 million Canadians watched the entire three-and-a-half-hour production and 10 million more caught at least a part of it. These ratings made the ceremonies the most watched television event in Canadian history, marking an increase of more than 29 per cent over the previous benchmark of 10.3 million viewers for the gold medal hockey game at the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake City. Another 3 million tuned into the opening using other platforms, including the Internet, radio and cellphones and other handheld devices.
The opening simply set the stage for what was about to come. Every other day, the CTV-led consortium seemed to be sending out a news release trumpeting staggering numbers for an Olympic final in which a Canadian stood a good chance of medalling. Millions were watching the medal ceremonies, for heaven’s sake. Medal presentations were outscoring top NHL games by four and five times. And it maybe wasn’t a great surprise when we later learned that 22 million Canadians had been glued to their sets for the gold medal men’s hockey final. Makes you wonder who was running the country that day.
It was easy to look at what happened on the streets of Vancouver and in the living rooms of the nation during the Olympic fortnight and be surprised, shocked even, by what we were witnessing. A swagger we were not known for was now on full display. But honestly, for those who were paying attention it was obvious months earlier that something special was afoot. There were clear signals that the country was fully and completely engaged and ready to make the emotional investment in these Games that would later become so evident. Canadians seemed to take them over. Their fervent enthusiasm was there for all to see during the torch relay.
When we declared these to be Canada’s Games, trying to make them relevant to all Canadians, no matter where they lived, there was a fair bit of eye-rolling. Many saw our plan as a vision too far. People said it would never happen. The country was too big. But it was during the relay, it turns out, that Canadians began to get inspired, and I mean all Canadians, of every colour and creed. That little flame seemed to touch everyone. That’s when Canadians first swung open their doors and ventured outside to take a look, many wearing their red-and-white best.
While the performances of our athletes sent patriotism soaring through the roof, I doubt it would have happened, at least to the same degree, had the torch relay not touched down in every part of the country, allowing 90 per cent of Canadians to get up close and personal with the spirit of the Games. The relay is what ignited the fierce pride that would be on display during the Games. The relay gave us the momentum that would build throughout the 17 days of the Olympics.
These ideas had been swirling around in my head during my first run-throughs of my speech as I tried to find the words to express what Canadians might be feeling and expect on this day. I spent a good part of Sunday morning going over every word, tweaking parts here and there, practising my French aloud, cringing and sweating every time I did. But I was determined to be better. My mind was also full of emotions and imagery about the production itself and how the show was going to open. We had cooked up a bit of a surprise, to say the least.
It was about a week after the opening ceremonies, and that numbing poke in the eye we got when one of the arms of the cauldron embarrassingly failed to rise from the stadium floor, that David Atkins had beckoned me to his office for a closed-door chat. He wanted to talk about an idea he and a couple of others were kicking around for the closing ceremonies, which involved a significant departure from the original script: the crowd would take their seats and be greeted by an unlit cauldron still with only three arms, signs that it was indeed permanently disabled. The idea, David said, was to raise the fourth arm of the cauldron as part of the show and have it lit by Catriona Le May Doan, the torchbearer who had been left standing awkwardly in the cold when the arm she was to light stubbornly refused to operate on opening night. David envisaged a miming mechanic coming out of the floor and tugging on an imaginary rope to get the unseen cauldron arm into position. Then Catriona would appear to light the flame.
Forever the tease, David could see the smile building on my face as he outlined his plan. It was brilliant—on so many levels. First, it allowed us to poke a little fun at ourselves. Yes, the glitch on opening night had left a sour taste in some people’s mouths. But now we were going to turn that lemon into lemonade. Canadians would be thrilled that Catriona, who had conducted herself with so much dignity and class on opening night, would get her moment in the spotlight as she deserved.
Second, our commitment to a bilingual Games wasn’t just centred around how many French words were spoken but in how the duality of Canada was broadly reflected in everything we did. For the ceremonies, that could be achieved through the artists we chose, the dancers, music, imagery and the stories told, regardless of the language. By using a Montreal-based mime David was making a point: the mime was an artist who certainly reflected French culture but who also didn’t speak a word.
I thought David had showed real ingenuity in the face of the pressure that we were getting from many fronts on the French issue, not to mention the sometimes unreasonable demands of the networks. On its part, NBC was not thrilled that we had ended the opening ceremonies with a song in French. For its mostly English-speaking American audience, the network would have preferred that we use a song that was more recognizable. Meanwhile, CTV was lobbying hard to have its Olympic theme song, “I Believe,” inserted into the closing ceremonies. Not a chance, said David, and I wasn’t going to argue with him. He was putting his foot down on all of the interference and lobbying that was coming from the bleachers, and who could blame him? I loved “I Believe” but was happy with the lineup of talent that David had already assembled. Besides, it wasn’t our job to be a marketing company for CTV, great as their partnership with us was. Certainly, we weren’t going to put their interests ahead of the greater good of the Games and David’s well-crafted plan.
While part of me will forever crave the buzz and excitement of the Games, I will never miss the politicking and tug-of-war manoeuvring that went on behind the scenes, especially in regard to the opening and closing ceremonies.
BY LATE MORNING, I had made my way to Canada Hockey Place to take in the gold medal game. The b
uilding was a powder keg of excitement. Given the anxiety I was already feeling about the closing ceremonies, I probably could have done without the high drama that unfolded. But for the country, Sidney Crosby in overtime, wow, you couldn’t have written it better if you were a Hollywood wordsmith. Our boy Sidney, our whole hockey team, gave Canada and the 2010 Olympics the defining moment that would be remembered and talked about for decades. It was the exclamation mark on a 17-day experience that brought Canadians together like never before.
It took a while to get from the rink to BC Place Stadium right next door after the game. I couldn’t go two feet without someone approaching to talk about what had just happened in the rink and to congratulate VANOC on a superb job. The mood was ebullient. I eventually made it inside the stadium but I wasn’t planning on making myself visible until right near the countdown to the start of the ceremonies, for a few reasons. First, I wanted to spend a little more time going over my speech and amending a part of it to incorporate the bit of hockey history that had just been made. We had managed quite an Olympic haul—14 gold medals, the most ever for a country at a Winter Games, host or not. What an achievement. What a validation of Own the Podium. That had to be recognized. I also wanted to go over my French parts just a bit more. Some last-minute cramming for the ultimate final.