Whither the (elusive) torch?

(Photo by Junko Sasaki)

So it's come to this. In our sped-up, post-modern, discontinuous world, nobody can really say what's right, wrong, or neutral any more.

Tibet. A distant, ancient land of mystery. The only Americans likely to have visited there are serious trekkers and born-again Buddhists.

There's the Dalai Lama, spiritual leader of Tibet who cannot visit there -- an odd, stateless creature without a country but with a significant influence on Western public opinion. It's fair to say more Americans I know worship this man than, say, the Pope.

China, the world's most dynamic growing economy, with its aging Communist elite trying to control a messy transition to unbridled capitalism without granting any of the personal freedoms associated with free-market economies.

President Bush, a simple fellow best captured on TV by 'Lil Bush, just trying to get by 'til closing time. Should he or should he not attend the opening ceremonies in Beijing this summer?

Hillary Clinton, who always seems to know what's best, says he should boycott it. A number of the usual suspects -- wishy-washy liberals in Europe -- say the same thing.

Protesters of many stripes sense a chance to make some noise. God bless them, their right to dissent is why we are fighting in Iraq, right? That's what I heard.

Back in a simpler age, a year or so ago, those who are oh-so-wise determined that the only stop the Olympic Torch would make this year would be here, in my dear San Francisco.

Today, in fact, was to be the Big Day.

And quite a day it was. Festivities had been long-planned, and long-planned festivities follow a certain familiar pattern. A parade route is announced. Grandstands are set up. The media promotes the thing. People get ready. People get excited.

Only, we're in a new world now. It's a global, digital, fragmented world where nothing happens in isolation and everything is strangely inter-connected.

Thousands upon thousands of people converged on San Francisco's waterfront today to celebrate, observe, or protest the elaborate ceremony of runners carrying the Olympic Torch through our city.

Problem is, it never showed up, at least not where they were. The police, the Mayor, the Olympic committee, the Chinese authorities, maybe the FBI, and whoever else had a seat at the table freaked out.

There were too many people lining the parade route! Something awful might happen! Look at London a few days ago, or Paris!

So, they moved the torch, the runners, and the security detail down to a remote peninsula just south of the downtown area known as McCovey Cove. This, in itself, was a nice touch. It's a strangely lonely stretch of land on the other side of a tiny harbour off of right field in the Giants' baseball park, the very place where Barry Bonds hit many of his (then) historic and (now) despised homeruns.

It's an easy place to block off access, and that's why it was chosen. In a ludicrous parody of an opening ceremony, a gaggle of officials suddenly appeared out of a bus, lit the flame, and a lone Chinese woman runner jogged out of view of the public a short distance south, only to disappear into a warehouse!

That was a new one.

She didn't reappear for a long, long time, and when she did, it again was from a bus that had migrated miles away to Van Ness Avenue, far from the expected parade route. She handed the torch off to the next "runner," and the farce continued.

There were so many security vehicles and cops surrounding the "runners" that the best they could do most of the time was to run in place, or give up and just walk a few steps, to the place where the next hand-off was to occur.

Meanwhile, the thousands upon thousands of those who had gathered to witness these supposedly grave proceedings were left confused and torch-less.

The torch appeared and disappeared all afternoon. You got the idea that officials were working on the fly. Now it's nearing Fisherman's Wharf; woops, now it's out in the Marina; wow, maybe it's going to the Golden Gate Bridge?

Finally, the whole charade ended on a heavily guarded section of Doyle Drive (which leads to the GG Bridge), where officials congratulated each other, for what, who knows.

There would be a closing ceremony, the Mayor announced, just not at the planned location. That would be where tiny old Chinese ladies in dime store shoes had stood patiently all day, holding red flags, and looking as if they were not sure what they were supposed to do. No, not there, his Mayorness stated, but at "an undisclosed location."

That, too, was a fabrication, unless they did it inside the bus.

Meanwhile, some sort of comical, bright orange amphibious vehicle that should be considered for this year's gay pride day parade led the Olympic procession onto 19th Street, heading south. My God, the torch was going to the airport!

We hardly got to know ye', little Torchie.

So now, we were told there would be a closing ceremony at the airport.

But, not at which gate.

At this point, your faithful correspondent decided to boycott the remaining proceedings. Better to watch the punchless Giants on TV than attend to any more of this nonsense.

I know this much: Nobody is oh-so-wise anymore.

-30-