Let the Games sing.
And 60,000 spectators, dressed in color-coordinated ponchos that made Olympic rings and snowflakes and maple leafs of the crowd, sang happy birthday to the Australian team. And hello to Guam. Guam? And to the Netherlands Antilles. And after the home team itself, they cheered loudest for Jamaica and its bobsledders.
And a salute to the Italian team for being the most elegantly dressed, and to the French, who in their Inspector Clouseau outfits started a perfect wave that swept once, then twice, around McMahon Stadium. And then all sang Alberta Bound and, in heavy gloves, clapped thuddingly for the 12-year-old girl from Calgary, Robyn Perry, who lit the flame, and for the hundreds of children who gamboled across the stadium floor like a human chinook.
Once, when the Baron de Coubertin, founder of the modern Olympics, stopped hectoring us for a moment on the bounties of amateurism, he said, "If anyone were to ask me the formula of 'Olympizing' oneself, I should say to him, the first condition is to be joyful."
So let the Games be joyful. And let the medal count begin.