On Saturday, Bode Miller won gold.  It makes sense to discuss him on this post, and surely my peers at the New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Christian Science Monitor have done so.  However, here at Saving Private Mommy, I was planning on devoting today’s post to him anyway.  Does that make me a prophet?  No, but it sure makes me sound like one.

My familiarity with Bode Miller happened via commercials just before the 2006 Torino games.  It was either Nike or some beer that asked me to Join Bode.  I missed his 2002 Salt Lake Olympics performance, during which he won two silver medals, a reputation for partying and ‘not caring’, along with the sponsorship of various companies marketing his brand of athletic cool.

The level of hype made me nervous.  Footage of him looking detached, pans to products, understated narration, and the famous call to Join the dude who doesn’t change his facial expression dominated the television.  It all seemed too well-crafted, contrived and, yeah, HYPED.  Footage of him skiing, fine, but making him a movement?  That’s a lot of pre-Olympic pressure.

When he failed to medal race after race, I felt really bad for him and feared that his indifferent persona would be catapulted into a permanent, unresponsive, apathetic stupor (when cool can’t get cooler).  It’s okay to finish sixth in downhill skiing at the Olympic games, but not if Bud Light has been flooding the minds of the world with your image as a champion.

Bode went unloved by the media for his honor-free showing and his aloofness in Torino.  He told interviewers that he enjoyed ‘partying like an Olympian,’ and even the charismatically vague Bob Costas responded with angry words for Bode, a If he doesn’t care, neither will others type of sentiment.  Was this because Bode didn’t tell of his 28 minutes of Cardio and eating Wheaties and Luna Bars?  Was it because he didn’t say, “Bob, I really didn’t live up to the hype.  I made a good appearance, but was kind of unmemorable, much like you will be until the summer games two years from now, when Americans see you again and say, Oh, yeah, Bob Costas exists, doesn’t he?”

I maintain that Bode was doing what he needed to do to survive.  He is a skier.  A fast one.  A finely-tuned Olympic machine that must perform at an optimum level all the way down the slope.  For some people, pressure is debilitating.  To achieve success, this requires a bit of not caring and the willingness to forgo a Luna Bar in exchange for bong rip.   (I am not a stoner.  I just understand them.)  Unfortunately, the media needs golden boys and girls who wear gold, eat gold, think gold, and excrete gold.  Had Bode talked only of Luna Bars, he would have been okay, but unmemorable.  Since he alluded to beer, he became notorious.

My analysis of Bode, and my approval of his rebel tactics, is straight out of the Innner Game Of Tennis by Tim Galleway, who found that his original style of instruction taught his students a “command and control self-dialogue” which was impeding their real, focused attention.  He then found ways to help his students focus on “non-judgmental observation.”  This improved their performance and enjoyment of the process.

I get this because I am pretty much just like Bode Miller and Andre Agassi, save the talent, fearlessness, and being attracted to leggy, German women.  You see, I was in a community theater production after years of having only directed high school theater.  My return to the stage was fraught with nervousness about lines, staging, performance, and my lack of ability to focus.  It sounds strange since this was only a community theater production, but, in fact, a Podunk production provides far greater opportunity for embarrassment since, at any moment, one or more of your behaviors will liken you to a character in a Christopher Guest movie.  Waiting For Guffman, anyone?

I went to see my favorite guru on theater, Carla Zilbersmith, of Carla’s Calendars fame.  She assured me that any theater that is too planned, locked-in, or controlled is dead.  She reminded me of the importance of “being in the moment” and letting the relationship or the scene unfold.  She urged me not to be afraid of failing and to let myself be open, inspired, and, possibly, brilliant.  Inspiration does not live in shackles.  But if it did, it would wear leather and ask you to call it Dieter.  That’s Madonna’s fantasy, not mine.  Anyone remember Erotica?

This very simple, but often elusive, idea for people who want things desperately, was the key to my being able to perform in a way that not only felt better, but was more effective.  Irony!  Once I no longer used success as the word on my post-it notes stuck to my bathroom mirror, I could focus on what I needed to, to let it happen.

I think Bodie’s gold medal performance is just like community theater acting.  In fact, it might be exactly like community theater acting.  Different personalities respond to the pressure differently.  Just because Apolo Twitters about winning doesn’t mean Bode has to eat Luna bars.  And just because Bode has to look like the guy in your Algebra class doesn’t mean Apolo needs to shave his soul-patch.  The mental game matters, and our minds work differently.  Thankfully.  Otherwise parties would be really boring.

Now Bodie’s won gold, so, of course, the media has attributed this to Bode’s ‘growing up.’ Bode did deny any ‘new him’ scenario in an interview with Time, saying it’s all media perception, that is, how the media ‘wants to position itself.’ Funny, now that there’s gold around his neck, there is media around Bode.

So let’s take a lesson from Bode.  Ski for fun.  Chill out.  Relax and let it happen, and you may lose in Torino, but you just might dominate in Vancouver.

Stay tuned for more sporadic, irrelevant, incomplete, yet highly important Olympic coverage here at Saving Private Mommy. 

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