At the 2026 Winter Olympics, Peril and Promise Coincide

Not every athlete has been so lucky to escape the current political moment, of course. After the freeskier Hunter Hess commented that he doesn’t “represent everything that’s going on in the U.S.,” Trump branded the Olympian a “real Loser.” Amber Glenn, the first openly queer figure skater to compete for Team U.S.A., who spoke up about the difficulties faced by the L.G.B.T.Q.+ community, was inundated with threats. The geopolitical context of the final marquee event, the men’s gold-medal hockey game, between U.S.A. and Canada, will be impossible to escape. There has even been some speculation that Trump, who once talked about annexing Canada, may fly to Milan to attend.

That’s nothing new: politics has been part of the Olympics since their inception, despite what the pooh-bahs claim. But they do transcend politics, too, and give us real examples of excellence. As this year’s Games neared its end, the awesome moments seemed to pile up, one atop another. The sight of American speed skater Jordan Stolz striding, powered by his—sorry!—godlike quads. The legendary Norwegian cross-country skier Johannes Høsflot Klæbo, surging up a hill and away from the pack. The American snowboarder Chloe Kim finishing in second, and then rushing to embrace the gold-medal winner, South Korea’s Choi Ga-on. The Italian skier Federica Brignone, who broke multiple bones in her leg less than a year ago, walking away with two gold medals. Another Italian, Francesca Lollobrigida’s tiny son, wearing his mom’s gold medal, grabbing his mother’s face as she gave a post-race interview. Elana Meyers Taylor with her two sons, after winning the monobob for the U.S. The American hockey player Megan Keller’s slick move to pull the puck past a Canadian defender and score in overtime during the gold-medal game, adding another unbelievable moment to the two teams’ long and perfect rivalry. The American figure skater Alysa Liu, skating with pure confidence and absolute freedom. When she finished, there were still two skaters who could beat her. But her thrilled reaction made it obvious that a gold medal would be great, but it was, at that moment, beside the point.

I’ve felt something odd while watching these Olympics, something missing of late: hope for the future. All these young people, doing remarkable things! They have offered not only examples of how to test physical limits but also of how to be. It has become a cliché to talk about the importance of process, to downplay an emphasis on results. It’s not just wellness-speak, either. The Olympic creed is “The important thing in life is not the triumph, but the fight; the essential thing is not to have won, but to have fought well.” It’s not so easy, of course, and when most athletes speak that way it sounds hokey and false. But when an athlete manages to find that peace, it really does seem like the most genuine victory of all.

On Wednesday, Mikaela Shiffrin stood in the starting gate for her first slalom run, and discovered that she was ready. She already had what she needed inside of her—but one thing that was missing was her father, who died in an accident in 2src2src. And she realized that she needed her father. And so she talked to him, she said later, and accepted, finally, that he would not speak back. Shiffrin’s father cared more about good turns than winning races. And so when she raced that day, her turns were great.