The Thrill of Victory & The Agony of Defeat
Some of the best storytelling takes place on the Olympic Stage.
The next two weeks, some of the best storytelling will be taking place at the Olympics.
Athletes from all over the world will live out their dreams and hard-fought journeys to play in the games.
Most will not medal.
But they will contribute to amazing stories where winning was never the expected outcome.
Have you ever noticed how the Olympics suck you into different events?
You go from never having performed the sport to deducting a 10th of a point because of the bobble on the landing of an ice skater as though you are the judge.
“Get your head down!” flies out of your mouth towards the TV when the second man in the Bobsled is slow to get into position.
And while you’ve never made it off the bunny hill, you detect the moment a skier is off their line, costing them fractions of a second in their overall time.
We all participate in the Olympics.
Some in person as athletes, and the rest of us at home - cheering, critiquing, and copying the movements from our couch.
The closest I have ever come to the biathlon is stopping mid-run to take a photo.
Yet I cheer them on as though I know what it is like to aim at a target while slowing down my breathing.
How does this happen in every Olympic games?
How do we suddenly know how the athlete worked three jobs in the months before qualifying?
We explain to others that it’s common for downhill skiers to put cheese curd on their injured, wrapped leg to reduce swelling.
Pretending to be commentators, we share how Shaun White was only allowed to snowboard backwards when first learning – a feeble attempt from his mother to slow him down.
The Olympics are some of the best storytelling for three reasons: the stories build and release tension, include unexpected events and specific details, and make us feel something.
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A nation that only experiences summer-like temperatures decides to send a team of men to compete in bobsledding in the Winter Olympics.
The Men’s Jamaican Bobsled team came on the scene in 1988.
They were immediate fan favorites because they were so unexpected.
The unexpected sparks your curiosity and makes a great story.
The more we learned about their path and limited experience, the more we cheer them on.
Medaling wasn’t the goal for the Jamaican, competing was.
They weren’t just underdogs – they barely had their training wheels removed.
Yet everyone cheered them on and wanted to see their run.
Why? Because it builds and releases tension.
What would happen?
In their debut, they had to cobble together equipment from others to even have a workable sled.
Endearing them further to each of us.
They ended up crashing after losing control of the sled.
But they won a place in our hearts and have come back every year since.
***
Michael David Edwards sat on the bench at the top of the ski jump in 1988.
Bright pink goggles covered his large, oval wireframe glasses while snow swirled around him.
He hadn’t jumped but was already a winner.
He had tried to qualify for the 1984 games but didn’t make the ski team.
Four years later, here he sat, a member of the British ski jump team.
He was an unexpected competitor.
He wore thick glasses and didn’t have the lean build of a ski jumper.
He had to wear six pairs of socks to make the boots fit when he started training.
While trying to qualify for the games, he worked as a plasterer and lived in a mental hospital.
Not as a patient – he couldn’t afford other housing.
Each of these details made him interesting, and others noticed his grit.
Given the nickname “Eddie the Eagle,” he quickly became a fan favorite of fellow Olympians and media.
They saw him as the heart of the Olympic spirit.
He finished last in his two events.
He even joked he looked more like an ostrich than an eagle.
Talent didn’t matter, he was a loved Olympian.
No one expected him to win.
But with each jump, everyone cheered his flight, regardless of nationality.
The more details they learned about eddie, the more they felt they knew and loved him.
***
In 1980, the then intact Soviet Union was expected to win the gold medal in hockey.
They had won gold the past four Olympics and hadn’t lost a game since 1968.
Facing the United States in the medal round, it didn’t seem the young American team stood a chance .
The tension climbed as the U.S.A. tied up the game in the third period.
With ten minutes left, the U.S.A. scored, taking the lead.
As the clock counted down, no other goals were made.
The final seconds of the game ticked off and commentator Al Michaels exclaimed, “Do you believe in miracles?”
The US Team pours onto the ice, hockey sticks and hands in the air.
The crowd and commentators were screaming and hugging each other.
The Soviet team sat silently with their heads hung.
You can’t watch that moment without feeling something, even if you don’t like hockey or either team.
There is a reason why these events were made into movies.
They already had the plot of a great story
They are unexpected.
The stakes and the tension pull you in, and the details connect you to the athletes.
And whether someone medals, you get all the feels watching the athlete complete their life goal of competing as an Olympian.
Look no further than the Olympics for amazing storytelling these weeks.
Look for the unexpected stories.
Pay attention to what makes you lean in captivated.
Notice your sense of wonder and what you feel as athletes experience “The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.”
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p.s. When you are ready, there are three ways I can help you with storytelling:
Keynotes: Edutainment - these sessions entertain and educate, building your awareness on the science of storytelling and how to begin building your toolkit of stories for any settings.
Workshops: Interactive virtual and in person experiences to help your organization learn how to scientifically hack the art of storytelling.
Coaching: Are you a member of the C-suite or Head of a Business Unit? Do you have significant meeting or presentation coming up and need help developing your stories? Individual sessions to help you learn to tell stories that inform, influence and inspire.
*This was the famous opening tagline to the Wide World of Sports in the United States in the 1970s and 1980s.
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