Odes to the Atlanta Olympics · Track 1 · opener
1996: The Torch Returns
The 1996 Centennial Olympic Games in Atlanta — the world's eyes turned to the city. Muhammad Ali, shaking with Parkinson's, climbing the ramp to light the Olympic cauldron — one of the most moving moments in modern sports history. Janet Evans's handoff. The torch relay through Atlanta neighborhoods. Centennial Olympic Park's fountains, pin trading, the diverse crowds. Michael Johnson's gold shoes setting the 200m and 400m world records. Kerri Strug's vault on a broken ankle. The Magnificent Seven gold. The unity of a city stepping onto the world stage. POSITIVE, CELEBRATORY tone — Atlanta proud, Black Atlanta represented, the South redeemed. Do NOT include the Centennial Olympic Park bombing — this is the joyful Olympics, the torch-lit Olympics.
Lyrics
[Intro] July 19, 1996, Centennial Olympic Stadium, I hold you, flame, in this humid Atlanta night. [Verse 1] You flickered through Sweet Auburn's streets, past Clarence Williams' barber chair on Peachtree, where he clipped runners' hair for free, saying it's his spruce-up for the world. Janet Evans, 24 and steady, hands you off, her quote still echoes: "I was shaking as I handed the flame to Muhammad." And there he is, 54, born January 17, 1942, climbing that ramp, Parkinson's tremble in his grip. [Chorus] Oh torch, you light us up, in the stadium's roar, 83,000 voices held breath, smell of popcorn and charcoal grills, as your fire touches the 27-foot cauldron. Atlanta proud, Black Atlanta shining, the South redeemed in your glow. [Verse 2] Through Centennial Olympic Park, fountains dance in the July heat, pin traders swap stories by the Fountain of Rings, peach cobbler sweet on the air, mixed with sunscreen and grilled hot dogs. Mary Jackson, 62, watches from Auburn Avenue, "Seeing that flame come through here, it's like the world finally sees us." [Bridge] And Michael Johnson, 28, gold Nike spikes flashing, August 1 at 8:50 PM, 19.32 seconds in the 200m, "I wanted to do something no one had ever done." Kerri Strug, 18, November 19, 1977, lands that vault on taped ankle, July 23, Magnificent Seven gold, no thought to the pain. [Verse 3] Torch, you carried unity, through Vine City neighborhoods, volunteers unnamed, over 10,000 strong, guiding crowds, their stories missing from the records, but felt in the humid air, the collective held breath. [Chorus] Oh torch, you light us up, in the stadium's roar, 83,000 voices held breath, smell of popcorn and charcoal grills, as your fire touches the 27-foot cauldron. Atlanta proud, Black Atlanta shining, the South redeemed in your glow. [Outro] Flame, you returned in '96, world's eyes on us, joyful, torch-lit. We hold you close, still.