2012 Olympics go intergalactic?

l apologize in advance for adding yet another opinion piece to the already over-loaded annuls of writing on the Olympics. But I’m egged on, however, by the sheer colossal nature in which the Games rocketed into our living rooms.

Rarely do I keep track of all the heart-tugging stories surrounding the athletes and their families. We’ve heard them all before: How Gustavo trained for the javelin throw by launching carved Brazil nut tree branches heavenward on some sun-soaked South American coast. How Ludwig worked on endurance by carrying his trusty Bavarian mountain scenthound backpack-style high into the Swedish mountains. How John from San Diego biked into the Nevada desert only to be greeted by a pack of unsympathetic wolves. How he slew them with a miniature pocketknife, carved out a souvenir from one of the beasts and appeared at the Games sporting a wolf fang necklace. How folks have sold off their own parents to afford the plane ride to the far reaches of the earth to compete.

I jest, but rarely do I get so enthralled that I pay much attention to stories like these. This year was no different. I was terribly unenthralled. I did, however, catch the occasional swim meet, volleyball match and track event. Michael Phelps? He made the case as the greatest Olympian ever, and the split-second win against Serbia’s Milorad Cavic was a site to behold. Usain Bolt? He crushed the 100- and 200-meter dashes.

But as this is not the sports section, I’ll move on.

Most of the opening and closing ceremonies, for me, were spent with my bottom lip somewhere between my mouth and the floor, which presented a problem as snacks were often present. “They are going to blow up the Bird’s Nest,” I thought to myself, as a seemingly endless train of snaps, crackles and pops enveloped the TV screen. During portions of the ceremony, we saw a giant, unfurling screen depicting various aspects of Chinese fine arts; a living representation of the movable type press and various performances geared toward presenting glimpses into traditional Chinese culture.

Forward 17 days. The closing ceremony, which was a depiction of where Chinese culture might be headed in the future, was equally as explosive. Hundreds proceeded to beat drums in perfect synchronization; ride glowing circular, bicycle-looking things; flip; dance; sing; and form symbolically poignant circles. There were more drummers dangling from the ceiling, glowing people, unearthly gadgets being wheeled all about, and of course, that eternally catchy song, “Beijing Beijing, I Love Beijing.”

Was it just me, or did anyone else think the Death Star was going to touch down at any minute during this wild, phantasmic hullabaloo? Given the enormity of the scenes and imagery presented, the Death Star would have fit right in. Darth Vader would have beamed down, choked out the overhead announcer with his mind, breathed heavily into the microphone and said, “Yao Ming, come join … (labored breathing) … the Dark Side.” Then, Luke Skywalker, Master Yoda, Mace Windu and the gang would envelope the Bird’s Nest, save the basketball star from certain peril and strike up another round of “Beijing Beijing, I Love Beijing,” as the whole galaxy celebrated, just like at the end of “Return of the Jedi.”

Or at least that’s how I imagined it. In all seriousness, the competition part was good, but “spellbinding” doesn’t quite describe the beginning and end. Was China trying too hard to impress during its galactic, $100 million show? To some degree, yes. Case in point: The country actually tried to manipulate the atmosphere to prevent rainfall during the ceremonies, firmly pushing weather patterns, God or what have you out of the way. Will merry ol’ London attempt to top it? Not a chance. If it does, the land venerated land of Shakespeare and Milton would have to go truly intergalactic. I’m thinking: London/Moon 2012: A Space Odyssey. But I don’t see tea-sipping, bookish gents summoning the cosmos any time soon.

Regardless, NBC currently has DVDs of the opening ceremonies available, and my wife and I are actually considering coughing up the $30 in the near future. That way, we can visit Ming, Phelps, Usain, Gustavo, Lugwig, Luke, Yoda and the gang any time I like.