A few years later, the alarm clock rouses me from sleep; it’s still dark outside. A shower, a cup of coffee, and a sandwich grabbed on the way, and soon we find ourselves in the early hours of the day while the city won’t come to life for a few more hours. The posters up announce a big event and how to get there. All that remains is to finalize the very last preparations.
Following almost the same route, officials, other volunteers, and everyone who will take part in this grand sporting spectacle over the next few hours have also set their plans for the big day. It’s an event that’s been marked on everyone’s calendar, and the same goes true for spectators, parents, and friends as well. More and more people are gathering and contributing to the collective event. There is a sense of promise and anticipation in the air; you you can feel it. The atmosphere is building, a buzz is gradually taking hold. The competition has underway. The competition then becomes an event; the moment becomes now.
In just a few days, however, the streets will be reopened to cars, and the city and its stadiums will become more accessible again, retaining at most a few signs of the Olympic feats achieved in this setting. In Montreal, when I need to think, it’s not uncommon for me to settle into the bleachers at the Claude-Robillard Complex, another Olympic venue. The hum of the lighting system dominates the space when it is empty, but I have no trouble hearing the clamour again—the ambient sounds that make a competition an event and an event a special moment. When Alexandre Bilodeau won his gold medal in Vancouver—Canada’s very first gold medal on Canadian soil, all of Vancouver was buzzing. I remember exactly where I was at that exact moment. A few days later, when Sidney Crosby scored to secure the gold medal in ice hockey, the entire country stood still.
Seven-year-old Nathaniel's first shutout in his very first tournament. Little Margaux's little Margaux in the regional final. All memorable moments in their own way for someone. Of course, there are the regular games during the season, but there are also the tournaments, the finals, the biggest events. It’s special when a competition becomes an event and an event becomes a moment. Life is meant for experiencing . Our collective story is written with special moments—as often as possible, sports moments, please!
For a long time to come, we will see the distinctive colors of the volunteers and staff of the Paris 2024 Organizing Committee. It is a family, an eloquent demonstration of a need for connection, for belonging in moments that are both individual and collective.
