The Tokyo Summer Games are television games.
This is what you said when the world's youth first visited Japan in 1964.
For the first time, the Olympics are broadcast via satellite in the living room.
And then also in color.
Everything as in real life.
Blue sky, yellow sun, red jersey.
The Japanese color television industry is said to have cashed in.
Everyone was thrilled.
Anno Hecker
Responsible editor for sports.
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Richard Kirn doesn't.
As thick as the tube things were that filled the depth of the oak shelf at home.
The Frankfurt journalist spoke of the flat screen in a certain sense 57 years ago.
Twice he had gone to the Far East to see in person.
In his booklet “The Smiling Olympia” he wrote about the opening ceremony: “Nobody who will experience this hour on the screen can fully understand the effect on the Seventy Thousand.
It was an orderly orgy in colors, as if invented by a Max Reinhard. "
How Kirn knew what was being seen on Olympia television remains a mystery.
At that time there were no screens in the press areas, i.e. dual viewing, artificial and natural, almost side by side.
Today is everyday life.
And what must say?
It's crazy what can be seen thanks to the cameras when you are not allowed to go: Florian Wellbrock on his way to bronze on Sunday in the water from the front, from above, from below.
Doll.
And this closeness.
Every grain of sand splashing away when Malaika Mihambo hits the long jump pit can be counted in super slow motion.
The television even shows what you don't want to see;
an official screaming “camel driver”.
Some have tried to hide this scene.
Vain.
Robin Benzing has probably also been recorded.
First he missed it against Australia, but then hit the captain of the national basketball team: after being substituted with his foot the chair to the left of the bench.
A friendly steward brought the good, intact item back.
The television shows the anger, the joy, the failure and the victories. Hardly an eye remains tearless. The close-up is touching. And yet there is a warning against the illusion of seeing what is authentic. You know that from the ski races. The slope looks flat until you stand on it and look into the abyss. Looks very quick, the 100-meter run on the telly. Until the men with the Italian Jacobs in the lead fly by down there on the track.
As incredibly fast, as intangible as the magic of world-class table tennis. Two men in a huge hall in front of a small table. They crouch in front of the plate, with the smallest, lightning-fast movements they chase the ball back and forth. But then, all of a sudden, Ovtcharov and Lin become huge, expand the scope, and seem to get under the ceiling of the hall before their mighty blows. There are many cameras, but not a single picture of this transformation in a split second. You have to see that for yourself.