Tym Glaser

YOU CAN'T help but get excited about the Olympic Games. Well, if YOU can't, I suggest you check your pulse to see if it's still pumping.

For two-plus weeks the world's finest athletes in multiple disciplines come together to match their skills and bid for individual and national glory.

Flags will be raised high, national anthems played and tears spilt as the best of the best stand proud upon the victory dais, having reached sport's greatest pinnacle.

At home, we ordinary folk will live vicariously through the highs and lows of the athletes in our national colours and marvel at the skill, artistry and poise of those who do not at the festival of the fantastic.

world's greatest jamboree

The Games are, simply put, the world's greatest jamboree. A place where the world's troubles are swept under the proverbial Olympic carpet and every body is everybody's friend ... even in a troubled likkle island like Jamaica.

Jamdown doesn't really get going in Beijing until the second week when the real business of track and field starts. Bwoy, the way my feeble mind counts it, Jamaica can sprint away with about a dozen medals and six of 'em could be gold.

Just imagine that, bars full, a nation rejoicing and Bruce fretting about how many public holidays to call! Heaven on earth wrapped in green, gold and black.

But, I have to ask, why does it take sport to bring this dysfunctional isle together?

Remember Deon Hemming in 1996? Remember the Reggae Boyz in 1997? Remember Veronica Campbell and the relay girls in 2004?

Why can't there be a collective pride in Jamaica all the time and beyond sport instead of a senseless orgy of violence spawned by a lack of respect for life and property?

unlawful killings

This was so painfully brought home to me on Monday as I read that a true sporting hero had been murdered.

Inspector Dennis Gardner took a rag-tag bunch of young basketballers from inner-city Payne Land under his wing and they brought great pride to their embattled community by winning the Southern Conference Basketball League Division One championship.

It was an inspirational story captured superbly by LeVaughn Flynn in The Star. A beacon of light for all embattled enclaves but, then, bang ... gone!

As I was reading that in a quiet bar, the news came on the box and the first item was about another murder.

"Dem kill a fish," one of the other patrons rejoiced and I felt sick to my stomach.

I don't think he could have been happier if Veronica, Usain or Asafa had won gold.

Is this really what Jamaica has become? Lawd, I hope not, but it made me think about the forthcoming Olympics and the veneer of goodwill that should pass over the island for a fortnight or so; and I really wished the Games would never end.

Later ...

tym.glaser@gleanerjm.com