Patriot Hearts (44 page)

On March 5, Jeff Sherman,
CEO
of The Bay, ecstatic with the company’s runaway Olympic success, hosted the executive for dinner and talked about the profound impact the Games was having on the iconic store. I thought back to that night, years before, backstage in Toronto with George Heller, the former
CEO
, and our handshake deal that was at the root of the years of effort and sweat that followed. Now here we were full circle—mission accomplished. The Bay was back. Jeff was gracious and thankful and gave each team member a patented Hudson’s Bay striped blanket to celebrate and remember our partnership. When he said, midway through dinner, that “this was the first February in The Bay’s history in which the company had made a profit,” I felt more than a little bit good.

By Saturday, March 6, the torch had arrived in Victoria, and I and others were there to receive it. The premier was in fine form and Rick Hansen was too. After a stint as co-mayor of the Olympic Village in Vancouver—along with former Olympic rower Tricia Smith—Rick was on top of the world all over again. The incoming torch runners were beaming. A great community celebration followed. Media were out in full force, still juiced up and fighting their own exhaustion. Then to the Canadian Armed Forces base in Esquimalt for a visit and ceremony, and for me it was back on the float plane to Vancouver, where the work in my office was piling up and mail was coming in from all over. Letters from around the globe were pouring in from those who felt they had to say how appreciative they were. They came from Australia, Chile, the United States, Britain, France, Germany and, of course, from Canada. I felt how far we had come. How much we had already accomplished.

As the days passed and venues were declared ready, I was busy preparing to make my final progress report to the
IPC
, a considerably less daunting experience than facing the
IOC
. For the most part, things Paralympic fell under the leadership of the
VANOC
sport division. We had decided on a complete reversal of the Turin Games strategy, where on the surface the Paralympics looked as if they were organized by the Turin organizing committee but were in fact contracted out to a separate agency.

With only days to go now before the start of the Paralympics, ticket sales had taken off, the sledge hockey venue was almost sold out and curling was filling up. The opening ceremonies were within an inch of having the Sold Out sign placed on the door too.

Everything appeared right and ready, and the new look at the venues was impressive. Signs of the Olympics were now largely gone and replaced by a distinctive
IPC
appearance. While the athletes’ villages were quieter, the new tenants from over 40 countries were buzzing with energy.

Later that week, with hundreds of practice runs complete and in the wake of a thousand small transition tasks, it was time to talk openly to the media about expectations. Sir Philip Craven, president of the
IPC
, was in his element, beaming with anticipation, and saying all the right things but also pushing buttons all over to keep the heat on the broadcasters to commit to live coverage. He was good at the pressure game, but he was also warm and thankful and noticeably eager to get on with it. I simply promised a continuation of the large crowds, Canadian medals and Blue Jacket heroics.

Originally, the plan was for the Paralympics to be entirely staged in Whistler. The
IPC
loved the intimacy of Whistler and felt the athlete experience would be enhanced if the Games were held in one place. And no doubt it would have been. But cost pressures forced us to take another look at this idea. Having some events in Vancouver, at venues that were ready, would save money. But we had made a promise to be in Whistler only. I felt we could go back on it only with the
IPC
’s blessing, so I had flown to Manchester, England, for an audience with Sir Phil, a former wheelchair athlete himself and a standout on the basketball court. He had represented Great Britain at many Paralympics and other European championships.

I felt a little vulnerable sitting in his presence, in his home, where he would put me up for the night. It was not an easy conversation but I honestly believed the Paralympics would come out ahead if we held some of the big events in Vancouver, where they would get more exposure. I promised him that we would not back down from our commitment to make these Paralympics the best ever. While the request shook our relationship a bit, he thankfully let us off the hook.

As the athletes were bussed down from Whistler on March 12, the ceremonies team was removing any final blemishes from the stadium set-up. It was a beautiful and inviting atmosphere. We had a full house. The dress rehearsal the night before had gone well. The performers were giddy with excitement backstage—only Patrick Roberge was really biting his nails.

The night was free of the soul-searching tensions that were present exactly four weeks before. The high drama of the Olympics was past now and the crowd was ready to let it all hang out one more time. Sold out it was. Spirits were high. The Governor General, prime minister, premier (decked out in red), local mayors and many others were all there as the countdown began. Performers gave it their all, sang their hearts out, and danced with joyous energy.

The athlete parade was beautiful, unprecedented for ambiance and oomph. It was emotional, energetic and every team was welcomed as if they were indeed the only one there, with the one possible exception—Canada. The arrival of Team Canada, including five-time gold medal winner-to-be Lauren Woolstencroft, seemed to electrify the crowd. The best kind of mayhem was happening.

The Governor General took the field early in the show, flanked by small children and beaming with pleasure, and the crowd responded warmly. We saw Rick Hansen and Betty and Rolly Fox, and were reminded time and again of the remarkable contribution people with disabilities have made to Canada and the world. The
RCMP
and Canadian Armed Forces were there in their finest protocol colours, delighted again to serve. It was a proud night for
VANOC
and a wonderful night for Canada.

In my speech I recognized the athletes whose lives were now interconnected forever because of these Games. I used the occasion to draw attention to the giving spirit of men and women of sport the world over: “Those who have made it their personal mission in life to use sport to build better lives, and inspire children . . . Sport is our common language and because so many in the world live in harm’s way our message of peace through sport has never been more important.”

It was a night to give thanks to so many. I concluded with a final wish for the athletes: “May this night be the beginning of the time of your life.” And then I introduced Sir Phil, who was charming, strong and clear about the occasion this was. He spoke eloquently about values and gave thanks for the Paralympics’ good fortune to be in Canada. If ever a man was in his element it was Sir Phil. If all he had done was sing the words of “Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore,” the crowd of 60,000 would still have made him feel like Elvis. He was now every bit the great leader he had hoped to become when he took the reins at the
IPC
. He was strong, proud, vibrant, passionate, thoughtful and humorous. It was a night he would never forget. Paralympic Winter Sport was at centre stage and it was on live television. After having seen the rehearsals, the network did itself proud and put the ceremonies on for the entire country to enjoy in real time. We were the first Paralympic Winter Games organizing committee to broadcast the Games live. In the end,
CTV
delivered over 60 hours of coverage and millions watched—a runaway record. For the
IPC
, this was now the new standard. Sochi can expect to get pushed further in 2014. Sir Phil’s relentless persuasion had paid off huge. He revelled in calling on Governor General Michaëlle Jean to declare the Games officially open.

The Paralympic flame arrived to great fanfare and was carried to centre field by Betty and Rolly Fox, as so many pondered the gift their heroic son had given to his country. The flame was passed around a ring of torchbearers and eventually handed to Zach Beaumont, a 15-year-old future Paralympic star who lit the cauldron as if life’s greatest honour had been bestowed on him.

For me, the rest of the night was a blur, a media conference, a walk through the infectious atmosphere downtown before crashing into bed exhausted. Athletes were en route back to their villages, for one more sleep before game day, and all was set for competitions the next morning.

On Saturday, March 13, the athletes’ wait was over. I woke up with a massive headache, seeing stars, and tried all kinds of medication just so I could manage. My migraines have become fewer in recent years but when they come they are brutal—like this one. Like a needle behind my eye. The day was at fever pitch by midmorning, so I needed to shake it off. The talk now was all about sledge hockey and whether the Canadian team had it in them to repeat their historic gold medal feat from Turin.

The team was now older, and though they were on the surface full of fire they had noticeably lost that edge. They gave it everything and made it to the semifinals, but there the dream ended. I had gotten to know these guys fairly well and marvelled at how they looked at life. These Games were everything to them and the prospect of repeating gold had been on their minds every minute since 2006. They had challenges to deal with that most of us cannot even contemplate, but they lived life fully and gave everything they had to the community.

On the ice, it was kamikaze-like action as our guys left not an ounce of effort unexpended. Missing that medal at home was devastating for them. Not getting even the bronze left them inconsolable. The U.S. managed to scramble a molecule of revenge for its gold medal loss to Canada in the men’s hockey tournament at the Olympics by taking gold, stopping dead the three gold medals target Hockey Canada had set for itself. Putting a medal around the necks of the Americans and handing them flowers was a great privilege. They had the look of champions and sang their hearts out when their flag was raised. Not a single fan left the arena for the presentations, so their joy was fully shared and celebrated. Canadians stood and cheered—it looked good on us.

It’s hard to imagine feeling excited watching wheelchair curling, which parallels a game of on-ice chess. But over at the Vancouver Paralympic Centre at Hillcrest Park the rules of decorum for curling were being tossed out. From the first rock at the Olympics to the last one at the Paralympics, fans took a vacation from all things normal, letting their instincts run amok. The curlers seemed buzzed at first but settled quickly into the craziness and antics of the crowd, which included the wave, numerous, spontaneous O Canadas, and thunderous ovations for even the most modest shot. This was twenty-first-century curling and it was great fun.

I dropped by the Athletes’ Village in Vancouver mid-week and ran into Jim Armstrong, skip for Canada, once a world-class curler in his own right until his health forced him into a wheelchair. He admitted to being genuinely taken aback by the effervescent atmosphere, and to having underestimated the power of these Games. He was having the time of his life with his teammates and revelled sitting in the village cafeteria meeting the rest of the athletes, drenching himself in the excitement and colour of the Games.

It was dreams of gold for Jim, who had skipped his team to a world championship the year before, so we were all biting our nails as Korea chewed away at his big lead in the final game. But hang on he did to reprise the heroics of Turin. Watching him accept the gold medal was special, and many were in tears for what was to be our final gold of the Paralympics in Vancouver.

TWO GREAT CANADIAN
stories unfolded in Whistler. Vancouverite Lauren Woolstencroft won five gold medals in Alpine skiing events, making her the darling of the Games. From the start gate to the finish line she was the favourite of the crowd. Blind cross-country skier Brian McKeever, who had made the Olympic team too but was not allowed to compete, gave the crowd at the Nordic Centre much to cheer about, winning three gold medals, which confirmed him as one of Canada’s greatest Paralympians. The Canadian team had a great Paralympics, nailing their lofty Own the Podium third-place target.

Celebration Plaza in Whistler was full every night as medals were awarded and Canadians and visitors alike piled in to show their appreciation. The Paralympic athletes garnered a special kind of attention from everyone they met. The community showed extraordinary hospitality and had been determined to send everyone home with memories of a storybook place where the world came together. It was as if everyone had been given a key to the resort. Residents were well aware that the contributions they were making would pay a long-term dividend, as visitors would surely return for a repeat experience sometime down the road—that was how Whistler worked. Whistler had proven itself to be the little town that could and did. It had its own irresistible magic and knew it.

AS THE OLYMPICS
were ending, I received an invitation from the parents of Nodar Kumaritashvili asking that I attend their son’s funeral, due to take place, according to tradition, exactly 40 days after his death. Part of me thought it was a courtesy request and I wondered if indeed they really wanted me there. Their son had not been out of my thoughts since that tragic Friday. To visit his family would be healing for me as well. The problem was that getting to Georgia was near to impossible if I was to fulfill my duties at the Paralympic closing ceremonies in Whistler. So I had a dilemma and I was worried. My team went to work on logistics. Every kind of travel scenario was looked into.

If I took the last flight to London from Vancouver on Sunday night, I figured I could get to Tbilisi, Georgia’s capital city, jump in a car and drive to the remote village of Bakuriani in time for the service. It would mean crossing the mountains on a slow, busy road, but I was prepared to do anything to get there. But everything would have to be on time for me to pull it off—and I would have to pass on the closing ceremonies, which would be a serious slight to the
IPC
.