On a rare day in Ireland, the sun is shining brightly and the Irish won a gold medal. Lightweight boxing female rock star Katie Taylor won the gold in a close decision over the Russian fighter Soyfa Ochigava. Sitting in a local pub in Killarney, tears polled in my eyes, swept into the emotion of a pub full of Irish pride as the experienced Taylor won Ireland’s first gold and rare medal. Some here are calling Taylor Ireland’s most historic female athlete. She hails from Bray, a village close to Glendalough. As a tourist, I can say, “I’ve had a pint in one of the few pubs in Bray.”
Over the years, I’ve lost interest in the Olympics. Honestly, I can’t say my waning watching time had anything to do with the athletes or even the differing sports. The loss of “I could care,” is related to the American broadcast presentation.
Ireland’s government financed RTE covers the events with little interruption. They offer some analysis before and after major events. Any event involving Irish competitors is covered in entirety without the flurry of commercials or brevity of coverage. Taylor’s nation rocking gold was covered from the opening introduction to the final awarding of gold without any breakaway. Every second of the historical moment for Ireland and for women's sports was presented in its fullest glory.
I can hear all the American response to my idealistic pander to Irish Olympic joy—but given the capitalistic swollen US version of Olympic coverage I doubt I’ll care to watch the 2016 games, of course, I am happily in Ireland at the time.
Priest, pilgrim, writer, alchemist—living into the mystery, the knowledge, and the practice of sacred alchemy. I've walked across Ireland, almost 400 miles of mountains, valleys, forests, and magic. The pilgrimage was a mirror of my life's journey, coach, president, priest. Traveler of the life's struggles—from failure to re-imagination—still walking.