On the one hand, it really is nice to finish one of the books on my 'borrowed from other people, must read and return at some point' shelf.
On the other hand, if you really really love the Olympics like I do, you may not want to read this book.
It's a great book, covering the historical moment of the Berlin Games, and giving a depth of insight to the debates around whether or not attendance at the games meant supporting Hitler, etc. Among other things, it's made me want to track down "Boycott", the book by Lisa Forrest who was the ridiculously young captain of the Australian swimming team for the 1980 Olympics, which Australia didn't boycott when a lot of other countries did. (Australia, Greece and the UK are the only countries who have sent athletes (not *quite* teams) to every Summer Games since 1896. Of course this is interesting given that Australia didn't exist in 1896 nor 1900, but we're still accorded that statistic. And yes, in case you hadn't realised, an Olympics geek is me...) Anyway. I'm not sure I'm going to be anywhere near so sympathetic towards Lisa when I read that book as I was when I heard her interviewed by Margaret Throsby back in the day. But I want to read it all the same. End digression.)
Two more connections from this book to others that I really appreciated: that to the 'Peoples Olympics' that was (sort of) held in Barcelona as an alternative to the Berlin games (it was interrupted and eventually canceled by the break out of the Spanish Civil War). There was a really fascinating chapter on that particular event. The other is the discussion of Son Ki-Jung, the Korean gold medallist in the marathon who raced under the Japanese flag because of the Japanese occupation of Korea at the time. He is still listed in all official records as 'Kitei Son' and his medal counts for the Japanese all-time medal count. The end of the book recounts that he lit the Olympic Flame in Seoul in 1988, the first Olympic Games that I watched at age 10. I remember watching the opening ceremony, although not that moment specifically. I wish I could remember it. I hope the Australian commentary noted the historical impact of the moment.
In some ways it was the final chapter that hit me hardest. As I'd been reading I'd noted with a sense of horror the number of things that are now staples of the Olympic symbolism, particularly the opening ceremony, that were introduced by the Berlin games as part of Hitler and his regime's attempts to link the Ancient Greek ideal with Germany specifically. This includes things like the torch run, the release of doves/pigeons, and the Olympic Hymn. In the final chapter the reason for this came fairly clear. Avery Brundage, the head of the US Olympic Committee at the time of Berlin was avidly anti-boycott, and became pretty pro-Hitler over the course of things. At Berlin he was elected to the IOC, and in 1952 he became President of the IOC, the predecessor to men like Juan-Antonio Samaranch and Jaques Rogge. Brundage was IOC President during the Munich games of 1972, and insisted that the 'games must go on' after the terrorist attack on the Israeli team and the botched rescue attempt that killed so many of the hostages. Guy Walters, the author of Berlin Games, has by this point built up the reader's distaste for Avery Brundage over the boycott and some of his other actions (in getting pro-Boycott, Jewish members of the IOC dumped from the IOC, amongst other things) that his actions as IOC President come as logical progression from a rather narrow-minded man. Harold Abrahams (of Chariots of Fire fame) came to regret his (eventual) support for the British team attending Berlin. Brundage never looked back.
It's a fabulous book. But if you non-ironically love the Olympic Games and what (you thought) it stands for, as I do, I'm not sure I can recommend reading this. It leaves a sour taste in the mouth; not about the book but about the Olympic movement. And I just generally don't like that. Because I want to still non-ironically love the Olympics, and I'm not sure I can any more.