The Birthday Party and The Soviet Olympian

The Miracle on Ice in Lake Placid. The Gold Medal Basketball final in 1972. Boycotted Games. Epic showdowns. Yes, this summer’s action at the Olympics will be lots of things – polluted, carbon neutral, controversial and occurring in a bird’s nest – but the one thing it will definitely be is hot. The America-China political rivalry continues to simmer and will surely translate into some electric moments on the mainland this summer (Check it, the Economist recently tipped China for the total medal victory). Still, I wonder if it will ever begin to match the intensity of the Cold War games. We’ll have to see.

You know I love sports. I also love Rocky IV, the epitome of Cold War cultural propaganda. As a kid, it was one of my favorite movies. Even today, I hold the utmost respect for the cult classic. Seriously, how many people can claim to make a 4th movie in a series and have it really stand out as the best of all the follow ups? Who gets to four anyway? It’s just impressive. The music, the video montages, the villain, the hero, the weird robot, the steroids, Sly’s beard, the father/son drama, Dolph Lundgren. It’s all good. All the way down to Rocky’s final speech in Moscow following the fight where his words echo throughout the ages: “If I can change. And you can change. We all can change.” Cue massive standing ovation. Seriously, is it any surprise that I’ve been doing so much of this trust-building/conflict resolution/community development work?

All this cold war culture of sport brought me a nice surprise when I found myself at a Latvian birthday party a couple days back. Ulla and I had been asked to bring our guitars along to play. We’ve been doing a good bit of this nowadays, dropping in at parties and sitting around and playing and singing with everyone. It works for everyone and it’s been great.

Of course, these are usually with Ulla’s peeps who are kind and happy enough to speak some English with me. This particular party, instead, had only three English speakers put together. Ah ha! These are the great challenges of travel. What do you do in this situation? Choose your own adventure.

After a shot of thinking juice, I started attempting to communicate with my host, a tall, well-built and mustached Latvian guy in his early 40s. I’m trying to use sport as my entry point, as it cuts across all cultures. Sports and music are both great for this reason. After some struggles, I eventually made out that he was a bobsledding coach (this was a brilliant charade by the way.). This connection excited him enough to tell (a verb I’m using liberally) me that he was also an athlete in his day and he hurriedly took me away from the table to show me his medal collection inside.

The large glass case sat on the wall with some privilege. Row after row of medals clung to the purple backdrop. The medals showed their age; most a bit dull and a couple ribbons tattered. Many of them Soviet encrusted with a hammer, sickle and CCCP. Others were for competitions in Europe. A well-decorated man. While staring at the display he grabbed some documents, showing me that he was a former Olympian. My very own Dolph Lundgren. We share an awesome moment. The old enemy of the Cold War Olympics is graciously hosting me at his sister’s birthday party. Full circle reconciliation.

We walk back outside. I sit down with Ulla and accompany her as she leads the party through a never-ending parade of Livonian, Latvian and Russian sing-a-longs. I strum too, singing where possible, grinning widely at my new friends.

If I can change. And you can change. We all can change.