Seventeen days ago I had high hopes for the Olympic Games. I watched the U.S trials in order to become familiar with the American medal favorites, and I read Time magazine’s Olympic special. I even watched all of NBC’s commercials advertising the two-week-long event.

At the time, I was proud to admit I had successfully warmed up for the Games before the real international event began.

Now, two weeks later, I am a fully-certified Olympic junkie who has experienced nothing but disappointment for the Salt Lake Games.

It all started with the Opening Ceremonies when I sat on my couch for three hours to see who would light the flame, only to find out it was the torchbearers I was expecting–the 1980 hockey team. This should have been a full indication that I was to experience nothing but frustration for the next 17 days, but I held strong to the dream that something special was going to happen.

There were moments of triumph during the Games: three U.S medals in the bobsleigh competition, Bode Miller’s alpine skiing medal collection, a U.S. podium sweep in snowboarding and the unexpected display of flexibility by the IOC president in awarding the Canadian figure skating pair a gold medal (which overturned the original ruling). As the Closing Ceremonies wrap up, I am unable to overcome the extreme disappointment that I, a true Olympics fan, have endured over the athletic competition.

First and foremost, as much as I have tried, I am unable to get over Michelle Kwan’s disappointing bronze medal. I don’t care that another American — Sarah Hughes — won the gold. For me it wasn’t about the American success — it was about Kwan’s success.

I watched with disappointment in 1998 when the young and obnoxious Tara Lipinski stole the gold away from the mature Kwan, but I held out, knowing that by forgoing the money that a professional career would give her, she was set to win gold on American ice in 2002.

So imagine my devastation on Thursday night when I sat and watched her lose the gold again, to yet another younger American. I know: Kwan fell and Hughes didn’t. But that doesn’t rationalize my feelings of hatred towards Hughes — it’s nothing personal against the teenager from Long Island, NY — it’s just that she beat the skater I liked.

By Friday, I thought I had gotten over the shock and bitterness that I was feeling towards the Olympics, but then I witnessed something even more tortuous than the SportsCenter replays of Kwan’s long-program fall. Friday night was the medal winners’ skating exhibition, which proved to be even more heart-wrenching than the previous night. Skating in a gold costume to the song “Fields of Gold,” Kwan took the ice to celebrate her bronze medal. The crowd applauded her (louder than they did for Hughes might I add) and by the end of her performance the 21-year old was crying. I watched her performance twice, once at 7pm and once at 3 am, and each time it became more heart breaking.

However, I told myself that I am not a child and I could get past the figure skating let down. By Saturday night I was falling back into the pro-Olympic category, getting moved by the two medals in bobsledding. That moment got me past Apolo Anton Ohno’s disqualification from the 500-meter short track race. I was a fan, again?well, for at least a day.

When Kwan lost the gold, I thought hey, at least the men’s hockey team is going to get the gold. I was looking forward to an emotional win in front of a home crowd chanting “U-S-A.” However, when I turned on the TV yesterday I was welcomed by the image of the U.S receiving their medals — silver, not gold. At that moment I was again transformed into a bitter Olympics fan.

I don’t like feeling hatred for the Olympics — I love the camaraderie, the unity, the cheesy athlete profiles — but I feel as if I have been let down. To me, the Olympics represent a lifetime of dedication an athlete has put into his or her respective sport, and the two-week competition is the chance to get rewarded for the time, money, tears and joy that went into the preparation.

Over 17 days in Salt Lake, this image was ruined: Kwan found out that putting off money and professionalism was a bad decision; the American’s ended up not being the best hockey team in North America (neither men’s nor women’s); and Picabo Street learned that her recovery and comeback were for nothing as she ended up retiring after her disappointing finish in the downhill. In addition, Jonny Moseley learned that spending the time perfecting the dinner roll was a waste of his time, as the judges didn’t approve of his style.

So now I walk away from the Salt Lake City Olympics as a disappointed fan who understands why so many others have done the same. But I’m not giving up. The skeleton gave me hope that there’s excitement yet to come, and the record 34 medals showed me that America did win competitions — just not the one’s I wanted.
For now I will dry the tears I shed for Kwan, stop complaining about Canada, and look forward to the Summer Games in 2004.