This is my second Olympics in Korea. My wife and I spent last night at her parent’s place in Busan and we all watched Choi Ho-min’s gold medal win in 60 kg Judo. My guess is the event was a blip in North America, just as non-Korean wins are a blip here. Judo itself as a sport is a blip in my experience and I spent the better part of 20 minutes contemplating how the better part of the event looks like people getting dressed.

But by the end, with Choi collapsing on the mat with emotion, it was hard to not be affected. We were eating scallops cooked in butter and I was drinking a lot of beer — which is my habit when visiting the in-laws (it makes speaking Korean easier). As the guy he defeated, Austrian Ludwig Paischer, raised Choi’s hand in victory I could hear Koreans in the surrounding apartments cheering and clapping at their televisions.

In Korea the Olympics are broadcast on three or four channels at a time. When a Korean wins an event, the win is repeated time after time after time after time. Prior to Choi’s gold medal match each channel was showing Choi’s previous wins, often showing the winning moves in rapid succession. And then again.  You might be thinking “well, they’d do that in any country.” Well, maybe, but not exactly like this. It’s a common device in Korean (and  Japanese)  comedy shows to pinpoint and repeat  a laff moment time after time, usually with little exclamations and sounds added in for extra laff emphasis. Same idea here.

And still it was touching. Choi was an underdog and Paischer the No. 1 in the world. He’s from Gimcheon, a little  town outside Daegu I’ve passed through a few times. As usual, at the end of the day,  I’m torn about rooting for Koreans during the Olympics. “Would an American cry like that if they won?” my wife’s mom asked me as Choi broke down again on the medal stand. She was delicately insinuating that an American isn’t capable of showing that kind of emotion for their country. Of course her only views of America consist of her son-in-law, who is generally quiet in her presence for fear of being impolite, and the faceless American military that took residence in her country just before she was born. That for better or for worse, hasn’t left.

Initially, this kind of comment has me feeling sorry that I got caught up in  Choi’s emotion. It has me rooting for some kind of crushing American victory over Korea. Not a baseball win, but something hugely disappointing — like Park Tae-hwan finishing out of the medals in today’s 400m freestyle. Or, yes, hahaha, Korea not sweeping the gold in archery, an event Koreans have dominated since it became an Olympic sport. Besides, Choi is probably crying because his gold ensures he won’t have to enter the Korean military. See? That’s the only reason he’s crying.

Luckily, I don’t say any of these things. I just smile a little, take another sip of beer, and tell her that, yes, Americans will cry when they win gold medals at the Olympics. It’ll be a different kind of crying, and probably for slightly different reasons, but it’ll be emotional just the same.  

It’s quiet for a minute and I’m hoping my father in-law doesn’t chime in on the conversion. The scallops are still sizzling in the electric pan next to the TV as they show Choi’s win for the 10th time, the clip with the Korean announcer yelling “Korea fighting! Korea fighting!” I think about the fact  that even though I bitch a lot about the Olympic games, deep down I don’t actually mind them.