Won't You Be My Neighbor?

It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood
A beautiful day for a neighbor
Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

It’s a neighborly day in this beautywood
A neighborly day for a beauty
Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

Won’t you be my neighbor?

Learning to play soccer in the United States in the ’70s was a tough sell amongst a family who had grown up playing “normal” sports like football and baseball. Talking soccer with my dad or grandpa didn’t get very far, and so it almost became my “secret thing” in my younger years. So a trip overseas in my teens ended up being a bit of a revelation when I spent time in the UK with some of the world’s craziest football fans. I learned teams and strategies and relegations and soooo much more, and came home loud and proud of my sport of choice. While my Fort Collins neighbors were pretty tired of tossing that weirdo ball back over the fence, I’d found a whole country full of neighbors about 4,600 miles away.

Watching the last couple weeks of Olympic competition have been a wonder if you’re a fan of the United States. The US leads not only the overall medal count, but also has more golds, silvers, and bronzes each than any other country, at least heading into the final weekend. While this exceptional year for America is no exception, the stories following team USA this year are dramatic and wonderful, whether you follow gymnastics or volleyball, soccer or swimming, wrestling or rowing, or SO many more, there are already over a hundred Americans who have stood on the podium, and 30 who have heard the Star Spangled Banner so far.

While it’s ever remarkable to cheer the Stars and Stripes, I’ve been reminded of watching the beautiful game with my UK neighbors and finding that kinship often comes through that shared experience. So many stories of Paris 2024 have come from countries all around the world, and it’s been impossible not to cheer the most dramatic stories that have come along.

How could you not be thrilled by French swimmer Leon Marchand, his four gold medals being the only thing that might have weighed him down in the pool, with the chants of his countrymen pushing him forward every time his head broke the water, and their cheers when he won were loud enough to hear on this side of the pond.

How could you not be amazed by Swedish Pole Vaulter Mondo Duplantis, shattering his own world record as a stadium holds its breath on his last jump of three, bursting into a roar that was one of the loudest of the games.

How could you not be moved by Brazilian gymnast Rebeca Andrade, a force of nature who has long lived in the shadow of USA GOAT Simone Biles, as Andrade finally took a podium above Biles in one of the several events they competed in in Paris.

How could you not be compelled by the first medals countries ever earn, or by the first for a refugee in competition? By an international women’s podium in skateboarding that every medalist was under the age of 17. By a Canadian Women’s Soccer team who overcame an embarrassing spygate opening to win three games in a row and still advance.

How could you not be an honorary Serbian, if you were a Denver Nuggets fan watching the finest player in the NBA nearly beat a murderer’s row of USA basketball talent. While observers outside the Denver area marveled at the shift in allegiance from the Rocky Mountain region, so many people don’t realize that we stopped being neighbors and started being braté long, long ago.

The beauty of these games is the slow and spectacular realization that we are all neighbors on this little rock, and that we can see ourselves in each other as we celebrate along. We have this rare every-four-year opportunity to realize how much more similar we are than the differences we so constantly feel. To understand that the joys and traumas we experience are a part of something that is not national, but simply human. Whether it’s next door, over the water, or in the locker room across the way, we are all neighbors.