We watched the Athens Olympics every night for over two weeks, and It Was Good. I viewed the Games at a strange remove having been there in person for the previous five, and while TV can give a scope and comprehensiveness not possible in person (unless you have a jet-pack) squeezing the enire experience through the lens of a camera (well, dozens of cameras) can't help but reduce its immediacy and dull the visceral impact of sharing physical space with competitors, spectators, fans, judges, volunteers, and the Olympic infrastructure, pomp and ceremony.

I appreciated the amazing width and breadth of NBC's multi-channel coverage, giving most every sport at least some face time, and while the prime time coverage on NBC was predictably focused on the big-draw events of swimming, diving, track and field, and was heavily American-centric, at least they did it well and there was always alternative programming on the other networks. And, prime time at least touched upon all the major stories even if they ... gasp ... involved athletes from foreign lands or sports off the beaten path. Richard Sandomir of the NY Times offers similar thoughts on the TV coverage here.

I don't regret having a new perspective on the Games (not that I had any choice this time) from having seen them on television-only for the first time in 20 years, but I also know what I missed, which was in the most important sense, everything.

I particularly felt the pangs of distance at the opening and closing ceremonies, both of which were spectacular, mythic, and wildly festive. AP's Christy Lemire focuses on the pop music party at the end of the Closing:

An all-star lineup of Greek pop icons had Olympic Stadium rocking Sunday night with classic songs and new hits amid glittering fireworks, clouds of confetti and balloons.

Anna Vissi — Greece's own Madonna — sang her famous song "Eisai" ("You Are"), and its disco rhythms had volunteers and even a few journalists dancing in the aisles.

Alkistis Protopsalti got the crowd swaying and singing along to the title song from the 1960 film "Never on Sunday," by Greek composer Manos Hadjikdais.

Also sharing a rectangular, rotating stage were veterans Dionyssis Savvopoulos and Eleftheria Arvanitaki, along with newer stars Michalis Chatzigiannis and Adonis Remos.

But the loudest cheers and applause were for up-and-coming pop star Sakis Rouvis, who descended from the sky on cables in an all-white jumpsuit that made him look like Elvis — the young, thin one.

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