Jan. 2016 — I found myself on a plane headed to Spring,Texas, to fly a drone over the greatest gymnast of all time. I was scared and nervous. I forgot toothpaste. I carried the heavy box.
It was, as they (Joe and Bedel) say, my first Olympics rodeo. And they reminded me of it, constantly.
I had worked on the Olympics Projects before. In 2014, under very little supervision, I spent a week writing out the words BIG EDGE ANGLE in my handwriting to include in a famed project about skier Ted Ligety’s turns. It was a semi-odd, yet still familiar type of Steve Duenes request. The handwriting was my only contribution, but I got a byline anyway — an early introduction to the spirit of generosity that courses through the Times graphics department.
But drone flying over Simone Biles? My first official on-the-road Olympics rodeo. 😬
I didn’t kill Biles (I wouldn’t get the drone anywhere close to her) and the meh footage ultimately got used. More than that, though, I started to see what it was like to be on the ground, with athletes, trying to make a piece, not just at a computer at the end of the process.
(It also led to the greatest photo I’ve ever taken.)
Since then, I’ve been on many pre-Games rodeos — Toronto (in winter), Salt Lake City (where my only contribution after a major fuck up was buying Chick-fil-A), Mammoth Mountain (where I fell 700 feet down a mountain), others — but this is my first Olympic Games rodeo.
I saw Suni Lee win gold last night after working on her story for months.
I saw Biles bail, midair.
I saw the first 3×3 basketball gold medal game ever — any closer and I would have been on the court.
I saw a medal ceremony for a Canadian swimmer — I don’t know the swimmer or the event and am not Canadian — and cried. (Joe told me to keep it together.)
We’ve published fast and often, across several different sports. Our pieces don’t look like anything else out there. I have eaten poorly. I have not slept. It’s been an amazing rodeo, so far.
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On the road, we use the term to tease and kid and drag, but when I step back and take the phrase seriously, I love it. It is my first rodeo — this awe, this grandeur, this opportunity. These moments are best experienced with that first rodeo mindset.
The book I’ve given most often to friends is called Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by Shunryu Suzuki (coincidentally, Japanese). I think my brother gave me a copy years ago. I brought a copy with me. In it, Suzuki says, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.”
It’s a spirit that runs through our work — especially Olympics pieces, constantly pushing, trying, changing, tweaking, reinventing — and one that I try to keep in mind in life.
When Joe and our colleague Emily (also her first rodeo) and I were watching synchronized diving the other day, Emily’s jaw dropped to the floor. Joe said something like, “it’s so fun to experience this through your eyes.” He was talking about beginner’s mind, our first rodeo, and the just sheer awe of being here.
In an empty gymnastics arena, while the world watched on TV, we were the lucky few who were there to watch for the world. I walked over to Joe and Bedel, and thanked them for tapping me for that Biles shoot nearly 6 years ago.
On my next rodeo, if I get one, I’ll always try to treat it like it was my first. But, we’ve still got a lot more of this one to go. Track and field starts tonight.
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An end note.
Sorry, for the overly sentimental post — I’ll blame it on what Joe calls “hitting the Olympic wall” — and feeling grateful and awestruck in my weakened emotional state. Though, truth be told, it’s not too far from my norm.
If Joe asks me to write again, I’ll tell you the one about the wrong bus, the athlete village and the German ping pong doctor. A first rodeo story, for sure.
Seems like everyone is clamoring for more Larry. I’ll get him to share his first-rodeo mishap. In the meantime, I thought I’d share photos related to this post and and comments.
Eat at Joe’s 
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