It was the same feeling I had the day after I finished panto. Once I’d hung up Hans’ tunic and hot pants for the last time, after months of rehearsing and performances, it took time to adjust back to ‘real life.’
And the same when I binge watched Ted Lasso in just a few days.
Now I have that same familiar feeling, as the Paris Olympics draws to a close. That knot in the pit of my stomach as I realise there’s no more. Suddenly the hours of watching sports that I’d never seen before, checking for medal updates and overdosing on inspiration have come to a sudden end (let’s blame Tom Cruise) and now I’m left wondering: “What on earth am I going to do with my time?” and “How the heck is is FOUR WHOLE YEARS until the next one?”
And it got me thinking: “What is it about the Olympics?” What is it about this particular sporting event, above all others, that has me transfixed?
Let’s face it, although I enjoy watching Wimbledon and the Villa, I’m not otherwise very interested in sport. Frankly, I’d much rather be watching Esme’s fashion choices on the Sewing Bee or Michelle appraise the wannabe designers on the Great Interior Design Masters.
But of course, what the Olympics shares with my fave TV shows, is STORIES.
We all know this.
So, what is it about Olympic stories that seems to trump the stories from all other sporting events – and what lessons can we learn from it to help us make our own stories even more engaging?
1. The hero’s journey is longer (and more tumultuous) than your average footie match:
A common storyline structure is the ‘hero’s journey’ – the hero of the story (in the case of this example – the budding olympian) going on a mission to achieve their goal. Think Woody falling out of the window into Sid’s garden and having to reassess his beliefs and embrace team work to be able to complete his mission of getting back to Andy’s room. For Woody, that journey was literally a matter of life or (barbecue-fuelled) death.
The longer that journey, and the more challenges (injuries, injusticies etc) the hero has to overcome on the way, then the more impactful the story.
Yes, a dive will take a couple of seconds. But the whole of that divers’ journey from when they watched Tom Daley clutch his first bronze, to winning their own shiny medal could be a decade, probably longer.
2. Transformation – a medal can be life-changing:
When you watch someone becoming a gold medallist, you’re not only watching them achieve their lifelong ambition, you’re witnessing their life change. Once they put that medal around their neck, it’s a life changer for their CV, commentary opportunities and book deals…as well as a chance for them to have more opportunities in their sport, and a bucketload of respect.
Transformation – whether in someone’s beliefs, life or status can be a powerful story tool. Just ask Cinderella.
The bigger the transformation, the more riveting the story.
3. Jeopardy – It only happens every four years:
Stories with more jeopardy have oodles more impact. Would The Lord of the Rings have been the same if Frodo Baggins was tasked with just saving the Shire, instead of the whole of Middle Earth?
The only chance to seize an Olympics Gold medal is every FOUR YEARS…this makes it now or never for a lot of Olympic athletes. If they bugger up their opportunity, they might never have another one again. Or they at least will have to train for another 1460 days.
That kind of jeopardy really creates a lot of drama. If the Olympic Games were held every year, would we really be as invested?
4. Unexpected – we love to see the unpredictable:
The favourite to win the 100m sprint clinching gold? Mildly interesting, especially if they break a world record.
But Builder Bob Jones from round the corner accidentally winning the 100m sprint title, after a last minute call up by the Team GB the week before? Now THAT would be a story!
The more unexpected a story, the more interesting we find it. Like the sprinter that watched the Olympic opening ceremony from his sofa, after not making Team GB. But ended up being flown out and coming away with TWO medals. True story. His name is Sam Reardon.