Thank God we're likely to see the end of Own the Podium (the slogan, not the program). I never liked it. The problem wasn't that it was boastful, self-regarding and un-Canadian. The problem was that it wildly over-promised and then did not deliver. It myopically exaggerated what Canada could accomplish in the great scheme of things - which, come to think of it, is a very Canadian characteristic indeed.
The idea behind Own the Podium - to raise Canada's game by investing serious money in its athletes - was absolutely right. But to measure our success in medals - then vow to win more medals at the Vancouver Olympics than any other nation in the world - was simply foolish. And now that the gap between promise and performance is so embarrassingly wide, the Canadian Olympic Committee has got some 'splainin' to do.
By last Sunday, after a miserable first week, the COC was still trying to put a good face on things. So what if Canada wouldn't be Number One? We were still on track to have "our best Games ever." Besides, we were told, winning medals wasn't the only measure of success. The "conversion rate" (the ability of Top-10 athletes to "medal," or maybe "podium") was important too.
By Monday, things were even worse. The U.S. had won 24 medals. Canada, with nine, was tied for fifth, and COC head Chris Rudge was forced to acknowledge the obvious. "There are many people who would say that there was a little bit too much braggadocio in that [name]" he said. "Probably we'll be in a tough fight with the Germans for second or third." That was overly optimistic. By Wednesday evening, we were still stuck in fifth place, and our conversion rate was lousy, too.
In retrospect, the only way to come first in the standings was to have everything go right for Canada, and wrong for everybody else. Guess what? This did not happen. It's not entirely our fault, though. We learned that the Americans are to blame too, for "outperforming." How dare they? Those sneaky Americans never even bragged about how many medals they were going to win. They just shut up and won them.
Anyone who's ever worked in business or government knows perception is everything. The idea is to under-promise and over-perform. Fall short of expectations, and you're a bum. Once you are perceived as a failure, your credibility will be shot, you'll lose support and your team will be seriously demoralized. Which is why the Own the Podium executives should be shuffled off the stage as soon as possible. They didn't deliver what they promised. It's okay to look gutsy, but it's not okay to look stupid.
The irony is that by any other measure, the Games are a remarkable success. Millions of us are watching, and Vancouver is a giant block party. We know Canada is a small country in a big world, and most of us seem thrilled with what our athletes have achieved. Per capita, our medal count is second only to Norway's. Our very young athlete-support program - modest by international standards - has clearly begun to pay off.
But what grips us most are the stories. No matter how cynical you are, you can't help being moved by the triumph of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, the sweet-faced young ice-dancers who've skated together since they were 6. Theirs is a classic tale of sweat and sacrifice, but it's also a family story too, of parents who spent endless hours in cold rinks and remortgaged their houses, and would do it all again, because they love their children. Long after you forget how many medals we won, you'll probably remember the story of Alexandre Bilodeau and his greatest inspiration, his disabled brother Fred, and of Joannie Rochette, the skater who gave the performance of her life just days after her mother's sudden death. What Canadians will remember is not how many of our athletes won the podium. It's how they won our hearts.