One of the six or seven excellent things about one’s glamor profession is that, in the opinion dodge, one is encouraged to, in fact paid to, have opinions.

They are welcome even when they differ with the opinions of one’s boss, because, let’s face it, they fill a hole on the page. Take up the column inches. The paper comes out every day, and somebody has to have an angle.

Last week, my own personal boss, Sal Rodriguez, opined about one of his, well, several pet peeves: “First, no one cares about the Olympics except tyrannical governments in pursuit of legitimacy. Second, Los Angeles is only hosting the 2028 Olympics because no other city was dumb enough to want it, with Budapest, Hamburg and Rome withdrawing.”

So the following is where I disagree, sort of, with Sal about the upcoming Olympics, hosted by Los Angeles in 2028. Two cheers for L.A. Oly!

It was especially in those simpler, “Wide World of Sports” televised days of my youth that the Olympics seemed so cool. The first summer games I remember was Tokyo in 1964. Fewer than 20 years after the War. My grandfather had just returned from a trip to Japan with a tiny Sony transistor radio, the first I’d seen, and I was fascinated by its miniaturizing Japanese minimalism. The very idea that nations were gathering there to play sports just decades after trying to blow each other up was so optimism-inspiring.

The Mexico City games in ‘68 were rather the opposite — kind of a political awakening. Yes, athletically, it was totally cool when Bob Beamon went 29 feet, 2.39 inches in the long jump, beating the previous world record by almost two feet. It’s still an Oly record. But when the government of President Gustavo Díaz Ordaz ordered the military occupation of the Universidad Nacional Autonoma, and then killed hundreds of protesters — well, as they had been chanting before getting shot: “¡No queremos olimpiadas, queremos revolución!” Then Tommie Smith and John Carlos, the gold and bronze medalists in the men’s 200-meter race, raised their black-gloved fists on the podium, and I was so proud to be an American, where we’ve got opinions, plus get to say what they are.

Yeah, all these summer and winters later, Sal is right to be wary about the upcoming ‘28 L.A. games. These days, it’s like China has taken them over, and bludgeoned all the fun out of them with totalitarian boots. I hated the fake snow at the recent idiotic pandemic Beijing monstrosity. The Olympics were no fun at all to watch. Something dour about all those young athletes, unable to mingle together, no fishbowls full of free condoms in the common rooms.

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But I do have very fond memories of Los Angeles ‘84. We did what we said we’d do — Oly on the cheap! Southern California already had the facilities — no need for a Bird’s Nest stadium boondoggle. The “gleeful aesthetic” colors by designer Deborah Sussman, with her husband, architect Paul Prejza, were all we needed to touch Southern California up. The games made money, tens of millions of dollars of which were given back to youth programs over the years. I had snapped up some tickets; had begun seeing someone who danced in the opening ceremonies; our first real date was in the Coliseum, for the end of the inaugural Oly women’s marathon, gorgeously won by Joan Benoit of Maine. We married the next summer, and 37 years later, we are happily still married.

Will the ‘28 games here stir the same joy? Doubtful. It’s a high bar, though. So if the athletes have fun, and we don’t go broke, that’s good enough. And, you know what? The real reason I’m still glad we’ll host the Olympics again: We’re better at throwing this world party than Budapest, Hamburg or Rome.

Larry Wilson is on the Southern California News Group editorial board. [email protected].