The most common word used by reporters to characterize the showing of Team USA at the Olympics is "disappointing:" There's plenty that seems to support that description: the men's hockey team bounced before the medal rounds, sulky Bode Miller zero for four on the slopes, snowboarder Lindsey Jacobellis giving away a sure gold after botching a showoff move at the end of her race. Not very cheery if you're rooting for American athletes.

But has the team's performance really been disappointing? With 20 medals so far, second only to Germany, the U.S. has already reached its second highest total ever at the Winter Games. For comparison's sake, here's the U.S. medal tally from recent Winter Olympics: 1984 - Sarajevo (8); 1988 - Calgary (6); 1992 - Albertville (11); 1994 - Lillehammer (13); and 1998 - Nagano (13).

The one big exception was 2002, when the games were held on home turf in Salt Lake City. The U.S. won 34 medals. An outsized medal harvest is typical for the host country. After a country hosts the games, the medal count normally plummets at the subsequent Olympics. The U.S. tally will be down from Salt Lake City, but not disastrously so. Let's say conservatively that the U.S. wins two more medals in Turin for a total of 22. That would be a fall of 35 percent from Salt Lake City. Not good, but somewhat better than the average drop of 41 percent after a country hosts the Winter Olympics. Maybe second-best Winter Olympics ever isn't the stuff of headlines, but it's a stretch to dismiss such a showing as disappointing.

You might be thinking: Why should anyone care about medal counts anyway? Aren't chauvinistic tallies of prize hardware contrary to the Olympic spirit? These are frequent criticisms of national medal tallies, and they're legitimate ones. But for better or worse, medal tallies have an impact on the most important people at the Olympics: the athletes. If a country does well, it is more committed emotionally and financially to Olympic training programs. Corporate sponsors are more generous with support when home country athletes win gold, silver and bronze.

What is notable about the U.S. medal count is how concentrated it is in two events: snowboarding and speedskating. Thirteen of the 19 U.S. medals come from those two sports. What U.S. snowboarding and speedskating have in common are crossover athletes. Gold medal snowboarder Shaun White is also a professional skateboarder; several of the top American speedskaters got their start as inline skaters. Maybe Americans don't have winter sport in their blood like the Norwegians or the Austrians. But we're adaptable. If it's happening on wheels we'll find a way to make it work on ice or snow.

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Italian skater Barbara Fusar Poli stares at her dance partner, Maurizio Margaglio, after the performance in which they fell, Feb. 19, 2006.

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Italian skater Barbara Fusar Poli stares at her dance partner, Maurizio Margaglio, after the performance in which they fell, Feb. 19, 2006.

NBC is putting on a brave front, saying it's happy with TV audiences so far at the Winter Olympics. But the numbers aren't good, no matter how you dissect them. Average ratings are well behind the Salt Lake City games four years ago. A bunch of plausible theories are in circulation about what's happening. One -- TV audiences for major sports events are tailing off overall, not just for the Olympics. With so many choices on television, and so many sports choices as well, no single event will command a massive audience, with the exception of the Super Bowl

Another explanation, favored by TV writers, is the American Idol. effect. The Olympics can't simply walk over the TV competition this year. Not when they're up against Simon and the wannabes, Desperate Housewives, and the hospital soap opera Grey's Anatomy. A Wall Street Journal editorial argues that the Olympics aren't as compelling anymore because they lack the geopolitical rivalries of the Cold War. So there's nothing comparable to the bloody water polo match in 1956 between Hungary and the Soviet Union or the 1980 Miracle on Ice.

Okay, there's no epic political standoff at the Turin Olympics, but what about good old-fashioned personal animosity? It's clear that American speed skaters Chad Hedrick and Shani Davis don't like each other a bit. And did you happen to catch the ice dancing on Sunday? Italian Maurizio Margaglio lost his balance and stumbled while holding his partner, Barbara Fusar Poli. She gave him a withering, disdainful look and ignored him ostentatiously for the rest of the evening. That frosty stare down gives new meaning to the term "Cold War."

Another theory about the mediocre ratings -- one makes that sense to me -- is that people are becoming less tolerant of watching big events on tape delay. Information moves instantly today and any attempt to pretend otherwise seems increasingly ludicrous. When NBC's own Olympic Web site gives results in real time, when you can get them fresh over your cell phone or on other TV networks or NPR for that matter, it's a stretch for NBC to say, watch tonight and find out what happened. Hate to break it to you, Mr. Costas, I already know. And so do millions of others.

If you haven't sealed yourself in a news-free bubble, you know the results of the big events when prime time rolls along. You can't pretend you don't. So you start watching for feuds or crashes, or maybe you watch in appreciation of elite athletic performance. That's great, but the crossover maneuver in speed skating just isn't one of those unifying American moments in TV. No wonder American Idol is such a formidable competitor to the Olympics. At least we don't know the winner in advance.

Here's a suggestion for NBC: Show the best events live. If not on NBC itself, then on the NBC cable siblings providing Olympics coverage. NBC is already doing that with one of the most popular events -- ice hockey. So why not do the same with skiing and figure skating and all the rest? It's getting harder and harder to play make believe.

When U.S. skier Ted Ligety won the gold medal in the men's combined, it was very exciting, a big deal. But Ligety is what -- 21 years old? And from Park City, Utah. How interesting could his path to Olympic glory have been? Judging by his comments after winning -- probably not too interesting. Ligety said he was happy to win, of course. But he then sort of bellyached about not wanting to win a gold this way -- with top skiers Bode Miller and Benjamin Raich both skiing out of the course. Dude, you just won a gold medal.

The man who won silver, on the other hand, spoke less but conveyed more, and seemed exquisitely comfortable basking in the glory of his medal. Twenty-six-year-old Ivica Kostelic grew up learning to ski when his country, Yugoslavia, was falling apart. His father, who was also his coach, drove him and his sister Janica around Europe to compete in junior competitions. They had very little money -- sometimes slept in their car. His sister went on to become a famous skiing champion. But Ivica did not. He struggled with injuries and battled for years for a significant win. And at the Olympics last week, skiing for Croatia, he got. It. His sister told him before the race, "Today I give you my strength." After the race she embraced him at the finish. She was not just crying, but sobbing for him out of joy. Ivica had tears streaming down his face, too. After the race, he said, "Only she and my parents know how hard my path has been." Ivica's silver was as sweet as any gold medal at this Olympics.

The same was true for Hermann Maier -- the Hermanator. Maier won a silver this past weekend in the Super G and a bronze in the giant slalom on Monday. Maier's whole ski career has been a struggle. As a kid he got kicked out of Austria's national ski academy for not being good enough. He worked as a bricklayer part time and kept skiing. At 25 in 1998 he won a string of medals -- and two Olympic golds. To win them, though, he had to come back from a crazy high-speed crash in the downhill where he cart-wheeled down a mountainside at 65 miles an hour. He sprained his knee and dislocated his shoulder -- but he got up and walked away and went on to win the two golds. Then in 2001, Maier had a near fatal motorcycle crash that injured him so badly that doctors almost amputated his right leg. It was unclear if he'd ever ski again -- and Maier missed the 2002 Olympics. So this Olympics was his comeback. And he now has two medals here in Turin. They're not gold. But who cares?

Speaking of good stories, how great was it that Lindsey Jacobellis crashed on that little show-off board grab on her way to the finish line? If Jacobellis had won a gold it would have been -- well again, great and all. "Top woman snowboarder who was expected to win a gold… wins a gold!" But kind of a yawn. Now she has Shakespearean characteristics… falling prey to her own vanity. That is so much more interesting, isn't it? I felt bad for Jacobellis -- who's not at all a show-off when you interview her. She's very down to earth. Reporters were throwing questions like harpoons at her in the hours after the race. But she shouldn't have suggested she wasn't showing off. As she herself said later, she screwed up. She was having fun. Oh, well. But "pulling a Jacobellis" there at the end… that's gotta build character.

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Its alpine venues can sometimes seem far from the town center of Turin.

LaPresse/Torino 2006

Its alpine venues can sometimes seem far from the town center of Turin.

Working side by side with 10,000 journalists, there's certainly a global feel covering the Olympics. I got a particular kick out of the two reporters wearing matching parkas with "TV 5 Mongolia" on the back. In the midst of this international smorgasbord, however, it has been hard to fix on the one spot that matters most at these games, the host city. I have had no sense of place with Turin -- it has been a backdrop, something to gaze at on bus rides here and cab rides there.

I didn't realize all this until today.

I was off doing an interview across town -- across the River Po -- a good 20-minute cab ride from my workspace. After the interview, I looked for a taxi back. There weren't any so I stood and waited as dusk settled over the city. Then it hit me -- wait a minute, I said. "I'm walkin'." And so I did. And that's when I realized what I had been missing.

The busy butcher shops handling the end-of-workday businesses; the many little bars and patisseries where people snacked and smoked. The old women shuffling along bustling Via Nizza, with winter hats pulled down almost to their eyes...walking their motley-looking dogs. I stopped at one point to gaze into a pet shop window where puppies lay snoozing in big cages. One of those old women saw me smiling and started talking -- when I shrugged she said, "No Italiano?" I said, "Si"... and she kept talking. After several references to "veterinary" I realized she was saying, "Don't buy these doggies in the window. Get 'em from the vet." Or at least I think that's what she meant.

Dog-less, I wandered on. When I finally got close to my office, when I started seeing the "Olympic 2006" banners...and police...and Olympic volunteers in their trademark black, red and yellow parkas... I was disappointed. I had walked an hour and could easily have gone four more. But I also felt a sense of satisfaction. For the first time in the 15 days I'd been here, the Olympics had become just a little bit more...the Turin Olympics.

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Bode Miller struggles to keep his balance after colliding with a gate in the men's Super G, Feb. 18, 2006.

AFP/Getty Images

Bode Miller struggles to keep his balance after colliding with a gate in the men's Super G, Feb. 18, 2006.

After all the buildup, the Nike commercials, the 60 Minutes profile and the Time magazine cover, skier Bode Miller hasn't come close to winning a medal in three events at the Winter Olympics. In two, the combined and the Super G, Miller didn't even finish the race. Let's not debate here if Miller is the creation of an overheated hype machine or if he's a great skier who suffered through a few bad races at just the wrong time.

Here's one thing to say in defense of Bode Miller. He can look spectacular even when he's veering off course and getting himself disqualified. In Saturday's Super G, he rammed into a gate about midway through the race. The collision sent him flying in the air with his skis splayed awkwardly. Landing with his right ski heading down hill and his left ski in the air pointing in the other direction, he looked like a wishbone about to be snapped. For several breathtaking seconds, he balanced on that right ski, gliding gracefully, until he managed to swing the other leg around and get his skis parallel. No victory, but also no catastrophic injury, and a brief moment of great theater.

Last year during the Alpine World Championships in Italy, Miller lost a ski on a downhill run. Instead of stopping, he went down most of the course on the one ski. A few times he dipped into the tuck position.

The delirious crowd went wild. If you follow skiing even a little bit, you have seen the replay.

Is there a pattern here? A rebellious guy hurtling downhill on one plank rather than two, giving spectators an unpredictable, acrobatic show. Hey Bode Miller, maybe you missed your calling. Maybe you should have been a snowboarder.

Wayne Gretzky is in Turin and he's not taking any questions about gambling. He doesn't want to talk about his wife's reported betting habits or his friend Rick Tocchet, who has been charged with financing a sports gambling ring. Gretzky wants to concentrate on his duties as executive director of Team Canada's ice hockey team. Fair enough. We'll agree to an Olympic truce on the Gretzky story, at least in this space.

Over the years, the aura of "athletic purity" surrounding the Olympics has melted away. Any pretense of amateurism ended in 1988. That's when the International Olympic Committee gave the green light for professionals to compete in the Olympics if the governing federations of participating sports decided it was okay. In today's Olympics, commercial saturation is a given

But what about gambling? Let's just say, theoretically, that you wanted to bet on the Winter Olympics. Is there a casino or sportsbook out there ready to take your wager on biathlon, hockey or snowboarding? Not in Nevada. Even though sports betting is legal in Nevada, Olympic wagering is off-limits, according to Jay Kornegay of the Las Vegas Hilton.

In Britain, it's a different story. The Brits have, well, let's call it a more tolerant approach to sports betting. Ladbrokes, the British bookmaker, is taking bets on every single event at the Olympics, says company spokesman Nick Weinberg. All told, he says, British betting houses and online sites expect 10 million pounds of wagering on the Winter Games, a tenfold increase from the Salt Lake City Olympics in 2002. Still, Olympic betting action for British bookmakers pales when compared to wagering on sports like soccer or horse racing. Ladbrokes predicts up to a billion pounds of betting on this summer's World Cup soccer tournament.

So, what's the big Winter Olympics betting draw across the pond?

"From the British perspective, the most money is going on curling," says Weinberg.

Curling, a magnet for bettors? That's the game where the most urgent thing they do is sweep the ice with a broom. It's the game with a 54-year-old Olympian. It's the game that in Turin they have taken to calling "bocce on ice." There's some logic here since it was a big deal when Britain won the gold medal in women's curling at the 2002 Olympics. But Britain is also the country that embraces darts as a sport. In fact, Ladbrokes takes wagering on darts and even sponsors a major darts tournament.

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Members of the media board a bus to the press center in Turin, Feb. 8, 2006.

Getty Images

Members of the media board a bus to the press center in Turin, Feb. 8, 2006.

Horses, I understand, sleep standing up. We do that at the Winter Olympics as well. Because reporters, cameramen and women, producers, editors -- we have to get sleep where and when we can. Snuggling into bed at 10 or 11 and setting the alarm clock for 7 a.m. isn't done that much here. It's more like collapse on your bed at 3 a.m. and then up at 7... unless you have to get up earlier to hit that two- to three-hour bus ride into the mountains.

Some of the real drama at the games doesn't involve supremely fit, supremely rested athletes. No... some of the drama happens at the transportation hub near the Main Press Center -- the spot where the buses congregate to take journalists this way and that.

You want excitement? Imagine an out-of-shape reporter sprinting across the parking lot trying to make the 2 a.m. bus back to his housing. That reporter, let's call him "Tom Goldman from NPR," made the sprint lugging two bags of equipment the other night... and got to the bus at 2:02 a.m. Problem was, the bus left two minutes before. The agony of defeat. I had to stand in the early morning chill... waiting until the 2:30 bus showed up. Just lost another half-hour of sleep. I gazed across at the athletes' village -- dark and peaceful. Inside their rooms, athletes undoubtedly were well into their sleep cycles or... judging by the stories you hear about the constant shortage of condoms... well into other activities. I didn't dwell on it however -- it would've made the morning that much colder. So I stood and let my eyes droop. And dreamed of carrots and hay....

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Johnny Weir performs in the men's short program figure skating competition in Turin, Feb. 14, 2006.

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Johnny Weir performs in the men's short program figure skating competition in Turin, Feb. 14, 2006.

Johnny Weir, the top American male figure skater, is currently in second place after the short program at the Olympics. The free skate portion will be held Thursday. Weir is a terrific skater. He is also known for sequined costumes that defy description and for refreshingly unrestrained quips and observations to reporters.

Here's a Johnny Weir sampler:

On the dilemma he faces over whether to try a difficult quad jump in the Olympic free skate competition:

"It's going to have to be perfect tomorrow, and the day after, for me to want to put it in…I could very likely wake up and feel horrible, like Nick Nolte's mug shot"

On waking from a nap in a state of high anxiety before his winning performance at the U.S. nationals:

"I was like, 'Is this really happening? Should I even get up?' It's hard. [But] slowly, I started to get ready. I put on my self-tanner and went from there."

On his sport:

"Figure skating is an amazing ride. It takes you from feeling like the lowest scum in the pond, like two hours ago. And now I feel like a flower growing out of the pond."

On the red glove he wears during "The Swan," his short program:

"His name is Camille -- two 'l' s'... when I skate badly, I blame it on the glove."

About his teammates on the men's figure skating team:

"I'm so proud of the other two guys on the team. I'm usually not a team person. I usually don't root for people on my team."

Jokingly correcting a reporter who had written he had worn a feather boa to a news conference:

"That was a scarf, not a boa... dead chinchilla, not feathers."

Comparing his performance to that of another skater at the U.S. nationals:

"This one, they kind of sat back and had their cognac and cigarettes and relaxed. His was more like a vodka shot, let's-snort-coke kind of thing… um, sorry for the drug references."

On his swan costume:

"It weighs more than I do… it's the rhinestones."

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Joey Cheek of the U.S. on his way to winning the Olymic gold medal in the 500-meter men's speedskating competition in Turin, Feb. 13, 2006.

Reuters

Joey Cheek of the U.S. on his way to winning the Olymic gold medal in the 500-meter men's speedskating competition in Turin, Feb. 13, 2006.

When American speedskater Joey Cheek won the 500-meter race at the Olympics on Monday, he used the opportunity to make a statement. Cheek announced he was donating his $25,000 gold medal award from the United States Olympic Committee to support child refugees who have fled the bloodshed in Sudan's Darfur region. And he urged Olympic sponsors to give as well. Social activism combined with generosity certainly isn't the norm for elite athletes. But it's not without precedent in speedskating.

Cheek is following in the long strides of Johann Olav Koss, the Norwegian speedskater who won three gold medals at the 1994 Games in Lillehammer. Koss, who is now a physician, donated much of his Olympic bonus money to children who were victims of the fighting in Sarajevo. The Bosnian capital was the host city of the 1984 Winter Olympics.

Koss went on to start a humanitarian effort called Right to Play, which seeks to provide a bit of normal childhood -- games and sports equipment, visits from athletes -- to kids living in refugee camps.

After winning his gold medal Monday, Cheek said he drew inspiration from Koss, both as a skater and as an athlete who finds a way to become useful outside of sports.

The world of sports takes itself very seriously, and Olympic officials are perhaps the worst offenders of all. But International Olympic Committee President Jacques Rogge could not be faulted when he said this of Johann Olav Koss: "Many champions at the end of their career bask in their glory, after years of hard work. Athletes tend to be egoists. Johann is an exception." Cheek hasn't ended his athletic career yet. He is expected to compete in at least two more races in Turin. But already he is an exception, too.

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Salt Lake Organizing Committee head Mitt Romney speaks about 2002 Winter Games at a press conference in Salt Lake City, Jan. 16, 2002.

Getty Images

Salt Lake Organizing Committee head Mitt Romney speaks about 2002 Winter Games at a press conference in Salt Lake City, Jan. 16, 2002.

When Mitt Romney appeared at the Winter Olympics this weekend, it seemed like the return of the prodigal son. The Massachusetts governor was sought out by reporters and mingled with First Lady Laura Bush and some of America's most famous Olympians.

Romney is widely credited with rescuing the scandal-plagued effort to organize the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City. A venture capitalist and Mormon with strong Utah ties, Romney was put at the head of the Salt Lake Olympic Organizing Committee as it struggled with state, federal and Olympic investigations into allegations of bribery. The Games went off without any serious problems and the organizing committee was left with money in the bank. Romney rode his Olympic success to political success back home in Massachusetts.

But two years ago, at the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens, Romney and his wife Ann were left wondering where all the love went, at least when they first arrived. I found them in a series of lines in the International Olympic Committee's headquarters hotel, forlorn and frustrated, but joking about their plight. After an overnight flight, the Romneys found they had no place to stay. The Athens Organizing Committee had somehow neglected to reserve a room. They spent several hours, Romney told me, trying to sort out the oversight. Finally, the U.S. Olympic Committee offered space. After getting some rest, Romney was formally honored for his Salt Lake City Olympic work.

So, what are the biggest differences between then and now? In Athens, Romney was a Winter Olympic dignitary in a Summer Olympic city. And since then, he's become much more than a governor and former Olympic host. He may run for president of the United States. Certainly, no Turin Olympics organizer or Italian government official would want to risk offending someone who might be president when the next Winter Games come around.

David Gray/Reuters

Kwan, a five-time world figure skating champion, has won the silver and the bronze in previous Olympics -- but for now, she will have to give up her dream for Olympic gold.

American figure skater Michelle Kwan has pulled out of the Olympics due to a groin strain injury. Kwan came to Turin and participated in the opening ceremony, but she injured herself landing a triple flip jump during a practice session Saturday.

The United States will replace her with 17-year-old Emily Hughes, the younger sister of 2002 Olympic figure skating gold medallist Sarah Hughes. It's a great opportunity for the teenaged skater, except for one obstacle -- she's at home in New York, which is being blanketed by a snowstorm. A foot or more is expected, and flights are being cancelled at New York-area airports. Ironically, there's no snow in Turin -- at least in the city itself, the site of the figure skating competition.

Kwan skipped the U.S. Nationals competition last month due to a prior injury, but received a medical exemption that cleared the way for her to skate in the Olympics. Emily Hughes finished third in the nationals and was named an Olympic alternate.

After learning of Kwan's withdrawal, Emily Hughes told WNBC-TV in New York she is ready to travel to Turin. "Just point me in the direction and I'm there."

Now if only it would stop snowing.

The women's figure skating competition starts February 21.

Enlarge Agence Zoom/Getty Images

Bode Miller of the United States skis during the Men's Downhill training. How fast do you think he's going?

Agence Zoom/Getty Images

Bode Miller of the United States skis during the Men's Downhill training. How fast do you think he's going?

On Sunday, the men's Olympic downhill race will be contested over a fast and challenging 3,300 meter course in Sestriere, Italy. The downhill is essentially a race of raw speed rather than technique. But just what is the top speed during a championship downhill race? Surprisingly, there's no media consensus about that. In a series on the Ten Hardest Things To Do in Sports, USA Today writes that downhillers reach top speeds of up to 80 miles per hour. The Columbus Dispatch says the race at the Olympics will be decided at speeds in excess of 80 miles per hour. The International Herald Tribune notes that during a downhill race Austrian star Hermann Maier controls his ski edges at up to 90 miles per hour.

But in the Sports Illustrated Winter Olympics preview issue, the magazine says downhillers max out at a much more modest 50 miles per hour. The Encyclopaedia Britannica reports the average winning speed is 40 to 50 miles per hour, but it says nothing about top speeds.

To get a straight answer I called David Currier, a former Olympic downhiller who lives in Boulder, Colo. He raced in the downhill and giant slalom for the U.S. during the 1972 Winter Olympics in Sapporo. "We had top speeds over 93 miles per hour when I competed," he says. "They haven't gotten much faster since then." Speeds are tracked by a radar gun set up at the fastest section of the downhill run. According to Currier, there is one stretch on almost every course where racers reach 85 miles per hour or more. That will be right near the top of the course at Sestriere, he says.

Will we see the fastest downhill speed ever during the Olympic downhill? Probably not, says Currier. The top recorded speed during a downhill competition is 96.6 miles per hour, according to Currier. It was attained in January by Klaus Kroell of Austria on the classic Lauberhorn course in Wengen, Switzerland. But Kroell wasn't the fastest one down to the bottom. He finished 19th.

Enlarge Franck Fife/AFP/Getty Images

Athletes and members of the delegations of the National Olympic Committees walk on a bridge leading to the Turin Olympic village.

Franck Fife/AFP/Getty Images

Athletes and members of the delegations of the National Olympic Committees walk on a bridge leading to the Turin Olympic village.

After several years of grumbling over traffic delays due to road construction, the traditionally reserved people of Turin finally got their chance to experience the big event.

If local character of one city in Italy can be called Calvinist, that is Turin. Passion is for Neapolitans and Romans, the Torinesi, as they are known here, are unflappable. At least until last night. The opening ceremony extravaganza of the 20th Winter Olympic Games appears to have melted their icy aloofness.

The show was a glitzy, loud and surreal celebration of all things Italian -- from Dante to Futurism to Fellini, by way of a flame-red Ferrari, clothes by Armani, soundtrack by Verdi and a finale with Pavarotti. This observer felt the effect was more tacky than inspired.

But today I made the mistake of expressing my opinion with some locals, who were stunned that anyone could criticize what one taxi driver told me was the most beautiful show he had ever seen. It never fails to surprise me how national pride can cloud the intellect.

Olympic fever had begun to be visible already on the eve of the games. When a motley group of anti-globalism activists and anarchists staged a protest Thursday against the Olympics (citing the business practices of sponsors like Coca Cola and the huge expense of the event) and succeeded in diverting the Olympic Torch relay route, a crowd of angry Torinese unleashed all their verbal wrath on the demonstrators. The disappointed crowd called the anti-Olympic protestors "fascists", "anti-democrats" and various unprintable epithets.

Today, the daily La Repubblica quoted the leader of one the fringe groups who said, "we made a mistake, it's not nice to be isolated." In fact, today, First Lady Laura Bush's visit to the city took place without any incidents. The protesters' promised disturbances failed to materialize.

The Olympics are turning into Turin's coming out party after years of depression and economic decline linked to the poor fortunes of the Fiat carmaker. Always described as grey and sad, Turin is now festooned with color and there are the first stirrings of what appears to be unabashed.... passion.

Enlarge AFP/Getty Images

Eric Heiden powers his way to a gold medal in the men's 1000 meters, at the Lake Placid Olympics in 1980. It was one of five golds for the American speed skater.

AFP/Getty Images

Eric Heiden powers his way to a gold medal in the men's 1000 meters, at the Lake Placid Olympics in 1980. It was one of five golds for the American speed skater.

The Winter Olympics in Turin haven't even started and some people have already given them the brush-off. Washington Post TV writer Lisa de Moraes says ratings for the games are headed for trouble due to a serious lack of "buzz." But if buzz means media buildup and early water cooler chatter then buzz doesn't belong in the same sentence with the Winter Olympics. Americans just don't talk about the fine points of biathlon or luge steering tactics. And if they do on a regular basis they probably don't have many friends left. But it's safe to say many millions of Americans will follow these events and others once the competition gets underway

Here's the thing about the Winter Olympics. Forget how obscure the sports are. The Winter Games have a way of generating their own buzz. Just wait until the Olympic cauldron is lit, something will happen to make the games catch fire. Pick just about any Winter Olympics from years past and there was something that kept people riveted.

The term "French skating judge" hardly needs an explanation. Marie Reine Le Gougne set off the pairs skating scandal and made the 2002 Games in Salt Lake City must-see TV. You might not remember that the 1994 games were held in Lillehammer, Norway. But you do remember Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding. After the famous "kneecapping" attack on Kerrigan at the U.S. nationals, no one was going to miss those two at the Olympics.

Speed skating isn't exactly a national pastime. But it became one for several days in 1980 as Eric Heiden was sweeping five gold medals. The speed skaters Bonnie Blair and Dan Jansen created a fair amount of buzz during their Olympic careers. Watch for the sport to make a big splash again in Turin. A brash Texan named Chad Hedrick could win a bunch of gold medals. That is, unless, Shani Davis, the first African-American Olympic speed skater, does instead. A number of top American speed skaters, including Hedrick, made the switch from competitive inline skating to the ice. Look for the rivalry between the former inline skaters and traditionalist speed skaters from the Netherlands and Norway to become an interesting wrinkle in Turin.

One more thing about Eric Heiden and 1980: he wasn't even the biggest story at Lake Placid. That, of course, was the "Miracle on Ice" U.S. men's hockey team. The U.S. upset of the Soviets in the semifinals is widely considered one of the top moments in American sports history. The team and their coach were the inspiration for the 2004 Disney movie Miracle. It's a Winter Olympics story that's still generating buzz today.

I traveled to Turin on Lufthansa Super Bowl Sunday. Normally I'd be covering the game, but thanks (or no thanks) to the calendar, I had to choose between obscure, cold-weather sports and good old-fashioned smash-mouth American football. Being the NPR globalist, remember, my choice was easy. Hello obscure, cold-weather sports.

But certainly I'd be able to double-up, I thought -- have my sports cake and eat it too. CERTAINLY I would, A). watch the game on the video monitors, figuring the Lufthansa captain was a globalist as well, and would show the GLOBAL event that is the Super Bowl. Or at least the global event the NFL likes to SAY it is; or, B). listen to the game -- certainly they could put the broadcast on, say, channel 7, wedged between "Club Mix" and "Lounge" on our in-flight radio offerings; or C). connect to the game via computer, using Lufthansa's unique wireless offering….touted in the pages of the in-flight magazine.

Guess what? No A. No B. No C.

I started to hyperventilate. America was having a party 7 1/2 miles below. WITHOUT me. I asked the flight attendant... politely and deferentially…if perhaps the captain could make A or B happen. No, she apologized. But he will be able to give scores. As a matter of fact, she said, he just announced a "partial" (my word, not hers) - "Seahawks 3, zee uzza team...." -- she blanked and turned to her male counterpart in the far aisle... who finished her sentence... "zee Pittsburgh ist 7."

Thanks, I said. I was doomed.

Needless to say, I didn't follow up with questions like, "So, are the Seahawks moving the ball? How does Hasselbeck look? Did the Steelers come out throwing, get a lead, and then establish the running game as they've been doing for weeks now?"

For the next three hours, as we flew east from Portland across the United States, perhaps RIGHT OVER the game in Detroit, I frantically tried to make the wireless connection. Nothing. I stared mournfully out the window, trying to ignore the SOCCER highlights on the monitor. The clock slowly ticked... I tried to wish it forward so the game would be OVER and I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. Finally, the time came when the game HAD to be over... unless Seattle and Pittsburgh were playing five full sudden-death overtime periods and it was the greatest game ever. As it turned out, there were NO overtimes -- the Steelers won in regulation 21-10. How did I find out? In the Frankfurt airport, 10 hours after I took off, a Canadian guy wearing a Super Bowl hat told me.

I thanked him and snarled something about the German pilot. At that moment, the transformation was complete. A sensitive, caring world citizen... had become a belligerent sports jingoist.

And then it hit me -- what perfect preparation for the Olympics! Where sport and nationalism mix -- amicably for the most part. I felt the spring in my step return... the excitement started to bubble again, as I prepared to join the world at play on snow and ice.

This is gonna be great, I thought. We just better get more medals than the GERMANS!!!

Did I say that?

Enlarge John D. McHugh/AFP/Getty Images

The delegation of Germany arrives during the opening ceremony of the 2006 Winter Olympics at the Olympic Stadium in Turin.

John D. McHugh/AFP/Getty Images

The delegation of Germany arrives during the opening ceremony of the 2006 Winter Olympics at the Olympic Stadium in Turin.

Lots of people around the world will tune in on TV to watch today's Opening Ceremony at the Winter Olympics in Turin. But not as many as some people say. A D.C. sports talk radio announcer I heard this morning said the event will reach an estimated worldwide TV audience of two billion. An Associated Press story reports the same thing. On NBC's Today Show they were saying the event could be watched by 2 billion people.

"Could" is the word to pay attention to here. Two billion people "could" read this blog. Two billion people could also decide to stand up to do jumping jacks at the same time. But you know what? It's not going to happen -- the blog (unfortunately), the jumping jacks or the TV audience for the Opening Ceremony. First off, any estimate of the global TV audience is a pure guess. Nielsen doesn't do its thing in Karachi or Kabul. But it's safe to say it won't be 2 billion.

Here's why: a total of 57.5 million American and Canadian viewers watched the Opening Ceremony at the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens. That's about 17 percent of the combined populations of the two North American countries. Both are, of course, prosperous countries with lots of TVs, and lots of athletes who do well in the Olympics. In other words, a larger-than-average market for the Olympics. So for 2 billion people to watch the Opening Ceremony in Turin, viewership would have to be nearly twice as high outside the United States and Canada as in those countries. A total of 30 percent of the entire world would need to tune in. That requires a stretch of the imagination where we envision entire villages in India and hamlets in Bolivia gathered to watch the wintry festivities in Italy. The world is globalizing fast, but not that fast.

Here's another reason the 2 billion figure is, um, wishful thinking. According to published reports, there are some 1.1 billion households with TVs in the world. Unless most of them are enjoying Winter Games house parties today, stocking up on Bud, ordering in from Domino's -- the numbers just don't add up. Tonight, I'm going to sit back and watch the Opening Ceremony on NBC. On tape delay, of course. There's a decent chance you will, too. Just don't think that you'll be one of 2 billion.