Baggage Check: Patriot Games

Dr. Andrea Bonior dives into the world of psychology.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT THE OLYMPICS that makes people who usually are fans neither of sports nor their country suddenly stay up at all hours for something called the men's modern pentathlon? How is it that those who are normally the first to make jokes about the president suddenly get warm fuzzies when seeing him in the stands of a swimming event?

Why is it that people who would never turn on a domestic sporting event — and may even scoff at the fervor shown for the Skins or the Nats or the Wizards — are suddenly chanting "Go USA!" while some person they had never before heard of dives off a platform? Is it just that watching women's volleyball lets you see almost as much skin as peeping into a locker room?

Actually, it's probably more complex than that. Long has been noted: "Me against my brother; me and my brother against my cousin; me, my brother and my cousin against my neighbor"... and so on. Despite the occasional attribution of this mindset to cultures different than ours, there's a universal truth to it, a truth rooted in human psychology.

For the same reason that we might come to blows with someone who has the audacity to agree with our own criticisms of our parents or mate, there is a delicate pride that comes with identifying as part of a unit, whether it be a country or a family. In fact, any kind of team-building exercise, from the halls of academia to the deviled egg trays at block parties to the gag-inducing ice breakers of the workforce, uses this principal; we each belong to different layers of communities, fitting within each other like a fragile set of nesting dolls.

Events like the Olympics emphasize one particular layer — the national one — and occasionally even the smaller ones, as local newscasters have clued in on. In short, a lot gets stirred within us in terms of who we believe ourselves to be.Throw in some compelling individual stories of astounding drive, dedication and talent, some flashy fireworks and leotards, a little bit of trash talk — and it's no surprise you've been tempted to order some face paint.

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