Parental Joy and Sorrowful Pride

"Wow, this is unbelievable!  Look at him! And he's beautiful.  Look at him!  What a beautiful boy!  Sorry, sorry....  He's unbelievable.  He's committed like you cannot believe.  He's the most down-to-earth, beautiful boy you will ever meet in your life.  Look at him, look at him, he's crying like me.  I love him!  Oh my God!" Bert le Clos

There, in spontaneous, heartfelt joy and pride is the expression of a father on the medal-winning athletic prowess of a beloved child.  When Chad le Clos won his gold medal in the 200-metre butterfly, his South African father expressed his enthusiastic pride in a manner that came close to reflecting the unparalleled love he has for his son.

This would not represent the only unrestrained exclamatory pleasure and pride of parents witnessing their talented children display for the world the extent of their physical prowess and championship style earning them accolades and admiration for their superior Olympian performances.  There were other parents, tormented by insecurity in the process, and then delighted at the outcome of their children's exceptional capability.

Parents are deeply invested in their children's futures.  They are moved to tears of happiness or misery when extremes occur embracing their children.  Children need not perform extraordinary feats to earn that love and commitment; simply being the offspring of parents will guarantee them first place in the hearts of their parents.  But when the unusual occurs and children are given the recognition of their exceptionality, parents rejoice exceptionally.

Which wasn't the case with another athlete at these 2012 Summer Olympics taking place in London.  The Chinese state has long taken steps to identify young children with athletic promise, adopting them for the athletic movement they have established of grooming for success, and taking over their lives and their futures to the exclusion of all else, including leaving parents with tenuous connections.

"We never tell her what's happening at home.  We even kept the news that her grandparents died from her.  When Grandma died [Wu] seemed almost like she had a premonition, and she called us asking if she was OK.  We had to lie; we told her 'Everything's OK'.   It's been like this for so many years.  We long ago realized that our daughter doesn't belong to us completely.  Enjoying the company of family?  I don't think about it.  I don't dare think about it."

Chinese diver Wu Minxia won gold in three-metre synchronized diving, her third consecutive time at the Olympics.  Her parents travelled modestly on their own to London.  They have had no contact with their daughter; not a tweet, not an email, not a telephone call.  They don't expect any contact; their daughter is much, much too busy.  Too busy to be informed when her mother had breast cancer for 8 years.

These parents rejoice silently, with tears.  They clasp their cellphones in case she might ever call.  They're online, since she might alternately write.  They read whatever they are able to access that she writes on Weibo (Chinese Twitter), and that's how they keep in touch with what's happening in their daughter's busy life.  "We know her tweets can't give us much information but reading them ensures that we are at peace."

This  young Chinese athletic champion was six when she was streamed into sports academies, leaving home for the permanency of representing their country by ongoing dedication and work geared to winning competitions that glow for China.  "Chinese athletes train incredibly hard, harder than I can explain in words and as a coach who has placed swimmers on five different Olympic Games teams, I have never seen athletes train like this anywhere in the world."

The Wus would have it no other way.  Their pride in their daughter's accomplishments echoes the pride they feel in their country having groomed her.  Their sacrifice in surrendering their daughter - an only child, in accord with China's one-child policy - for the greater good of their country is one they willingly made and have no regrets for.

But it does pain them even while they inwardly celebrate the fortunes of their child, the Olympian.