Old News is a Good Time?

I’m all out of sorts about the delayed presentation of the Olympic games.  How ridiculous is that.  I can’t do anything about it not being real-time programming.  It is what it is!

I tried to watch the opening ceremonies.  I will make another effort to enjoy NBC’s presentations because, as I was challenged, “Is it something you've already seen?”  No, but I know what will happen and I resent being managed to watch old news and encouraged to feel ‘hyped’ like it is exciting new news.  Still, thinking perhaps I’m becoming an old fogy – stubborn, judgmental, sour; I haven't given up, entirely.

Must I tolerate the excitement being interrupted willy-nilly by advertising?  Unannounced, the really important part of the viewing time becomes  the cute, heartwarming, colorful, and entertaining advertisements informing me about a product I should buy or the fabulous corporation that makes it available to me.  Nah. 

It was appalling when during the opening ceremony an advertising break was inserted as Sir Steve Redgrave made his way down the path approaching a curve running the torch to the Stadium.  I was emotionally with him, anticipating each of his steps and what would, could happen next.  Abruptly a commercial interrupted the run.  When I saw the torch the next time Sir Steve had arrived at his destination.  The TV producers obviously decided viewers wouldn’t miss him merely trotting on his way.  Wrong!  I was watching his body, feet and legs carrying him forward, arm elevated just so toward the sky, hand (fingers and palm) grasping that flaming symbol.   I was thinking about the torch bearers down through the years, the honor and responsibility of the tradition and for the deep meaning to that man doing the honors now, in the year two thousand twelve.  NBC’s advertising break sadly ruined the moment, broke my reverie.

One more time, though, tonight at 8 PM (1 AM tomorrow in the Olympic village -- London time being 5 hours ahead of us on the east coast of the USA),  I will tune in to try and joyfully involve myself in what happened earlier in their day; what has already been partially broadcast and editorialized on by those who make their money in the business of communication.

It seems, when I was raising my family, we planned for middle of the night watching  the Olympics in real time.  Two, three in the morning, we were in the living room with the popcorn or whatever, watching anticipating, involved in the action as it happened.

Could I be wrong?  Has my memory gotten creative? Didn’t we, years ago, have the option of being real-time television observers of the long awaited Olympics?  Why not now?