It happens every four years. We drape ourselves in the flag, scream at the television, and suddenly care deeply about sports like air rifle or synchronized diving. But underneath the surface of all that gold medal glory, there's a weird, persistent tension. You've probably felt it. It’s that intersection of Olympic pride American prejudice that colors how we view our own athletes and, more tellingly, how we view the rest of the world.
The Olympics are meant to be this beautiful, global kumbaya moment. In reality? They’re a pressure cooker for nationalistic anxieties.
When an American wins, it’s often framed as a triumph of individual will and "freedom." When a rival wins—especially a rival like China or Russia—the narrative often shifts toward "robotic training" or "state-sponsored machines." It’s a double standard that’s been baked into our sports media for decades, and honestly, it’s getting a bit exhausting. If we’re going to talk about the Games in 2026 and beyond, we have to look at why we’re so quick to judge everyone else while wrapping our own flaws in red, white, and blue.
The Cold War Hangover in Modern Sports
We can't talk about Olympic pride American prejudice without looking at the 1972 Munich Games or the 1980 "Miracle on Ice." Those moments weren't just about sports; they were proxy wars. Because we spent half a century viewing the Olympics as a way to "beat the commies," we developed a specific lens for viewing international competition.
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That lens hasn't gone away. It just changed targets.
Think back to the 2024 Paris Games or even the Beijing Winter Olympics. The suspicion directed at Chinese swimmers, for example, was intense. Now, anti-doping scrutiny is vital—clean sport matters. But there’s a specific flavor of American prejudice that assumes any non-Western dominance must be inherently fraudulent. Meanwhile, when American athletes are granted Therapeutic Use Exemptions (TUEs) for various medications, it’s rarely met with the same level of public vitriol. It’s "medical necessity" for us, but "sketchy" for them.
The data from the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) shows that doping violations happen across the board, including in the US. Yet, our national pride often acts as a blindfold. We want to believe in the purity of our "amateur" heroes (even though they’re mostly professionals now) while casting a shadow of doubt on anyone who challenges the American medal count.
When Pride Becomes a Burden for the Athletes
It’s not just about how we see others; it’s about how we treat our own when they don’t fit the "hero" mold.
The 2021 Tokyo Games were a massive turning point. Simone Biles—the greatest gymnast to ever touch a floor mat—withdrew from events to prioritize her mental health. The reaction was a perfect case study in Olympic pride American prejudice. A huge portion of the country cheered her on for her courage. But a very loud, very angry segment of the population labeled her a "quitter" or "unpatriotic."
Why?
Because for some, American athletes aren't allowed to be human. They are vessels for national ego. If they aren't winning gold, they are "failing the country." This is where pride turns toxic. We saw it with Naomi Osaka, too. When athletes show vulnerability, they run headfirst into a rigid American prejudice that demands stoicism and "grit" above all else.
- Fact check: In the 1996 Atlanta Games, Kerri Strug was lauded for vaulting on a broken ankle. We turned her pain into a national marketing campaign.
- The Shift: Decades later, Biles chose safety over a medal, and the backlash proved that our "pride" is often conditional on an athlete’s willingness to break their body for our entertainment.
The "Rookie" Narrative vs. Global Reality
We love an underdog story. As long as the underdog is American.
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Basically, the US media machine is incredibly good at humanizing our athletes. We get the "up-from-nothing" backstories, the shots of their crying parents in the stands, the emotional montages. But when it comes to international competitors, they often remain faceless. They are "the opponent."
This lack of humanization fuels prejudice. It's easy to root against a "machine." It’s much harder to root against a person with a story.
Take the dominance of Kenyan and Ethiopian runners. Instead of marveling at the incredible cultural infrastructure and training altitude that produces these legends, Western commentary often leans into "biological advantages." It’s a subtle, or sometimes overt, form of racialized prejudice that seeks to minimize achievement by making it sound like an unfair genetic quirk rather than the result of grueling work.
If a kid from Ohio wins the 100m, it’s because he worked harder than anyone else. If a kid from Jamaica wins it? The narrative often drifts toward "natural talent." This distinction is a cornerstone of Olympic pride American prejudice. It’s a way of protecting our ego—if we lose, it’s because the other side had an unfair advantage, be it state funding, "genetics," or something more sinister.
The Money Problem: Amateurs in Name Only
Let's be real: the "plucky American amateur" hasn't existed for a long time.
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The US Olympic and Paralympic Committee (USOPC) is a massive financial entity. While the US government doesn't directly fund athletes the way some other nations do, the corporate sponsorship model in America is the most lucrative on earth. A top-tier US swimmer or sprinter has access to facilities, recovery tech, and coaching that an athlete from a smaller nation couldn't even dream of.
When we talk about "state-sponsored" athletes in other countries as if it’s "cheating," we’re ignoring our own version of the same thing. It’s just privatized.
- Nike’s Oregon Project (though now defunct and controversial) represented millions of dollars in private investment to ensure American dominance.
- The NCAA system serves as perhaps the greatest athlete developmental league in the world, funded by billions in domestic revenue.
- American athletes frequently benefit from "pro-bono" medical care from the country's top orthopedic surgeons.
Our prejudice tells us that our way is "earned" while their way is "manufactured." In reality, both are products of immense systemic investment. We just prefer the optics of our system.
How to Actually Watch the Games Without the Bias
So, how do we fix this? How do we enjoy the spectacle without falling into the trap of Olympic pride American prejudice? It starts with recognizing that the person in the other lane isn't a villain in a movie.
Diversify Your Feed
Stop relying solely on the main broadcast. Major US networks are literally paid to sell you a pro-American narrative. They have to; that’s where the ad money is. During the Games, look for international coverage. Watch the BBC, look at the Olympic Channel's raw feeds, or follow international journalists on social media. You’ll find that the "robotic" athlete from another country actually has a hilarious personality and a fascinating life story that your local network just didn't bother to tell you.
Question the "Doping" Knee-Jerk
When a record is broken, or an unexpected athlete wins, don't immediately jump to "they must be on something." While skepticism is healthy in professional sports, ask yourself if you’d have the same reaction if an American did the same thing. If the answer is no, you’re dealing with a bias.
Celebrate the Sport, Not Just the Flag
The coolest thing about the Olympics isn't actually the medal table. It’s the fact that humans are pushing the absolute limits of what our species can do. Whether it’s a 14-year-old from Japan landing a 720 on a skateboard or a 40-year-old from Germany competing in her eighth Olympics, the feat is impressive regardless of the jersey.
Actionable Steps for the Next Olympic Cycle
If you want to be a more informed fan and move past the typical Olympic pride American prejudice, here is what you can do right now:
- Follow the "Small" Countries: Pick one or two nations with small delegations (like Fiji, San Marino, or Bhutan). Follow their athletes. Learn about their journey to the Games. It completely changes your perspective on what "winning" looks like.
- Audit Your Media Consumption: If you find a commentator using words like "inscrutable," "robotic," or "mysterious" to describe international athletes, recognize it as coded language.
- Support Grassroots Sports: If you truly care about American pride, support the local clubs that produce these athletes. Many Olympic hopefuls are genuinely broke, struggling to pay for travel and gear while we cheer for them once every four years.
- Read the Rules: Most fans who scream about "unfair" judging don't actually know the scoring criteria for the sport they’re watching. Spend ten minutes reading how gymnastics or diving is actually judged. It takes the "mystery" (and the perceived conspiracy) out of the results.
The Olympics are a mirror. They show us who we want to be, but they also reflect our deepest biases. Moving past Olympic pride American prejudice doesn't mean you stop rooting for Team USA. It just means you stop rooting against the rest of the world for the wrong reasons. True sportsmanship isn't about believing you’re the best because of where you were born; it’s about respecting the work, no matter what flag is being raised.