Just like everyone else this month, I’m caught up in the Olympics. I didn’t plan to be, and would have proclaimed that I didn’t really care about any of it, but when flipping channels and catching a glimpse of the determined facial expressions, the deep, calming breaths, and the struggle to control the disappointment, you can’t help but get hooked.

My 11-year-old son has grown up watching pro basketball, baseball, and football, and can tell you about the big names in each sport. He’s also come of age in a tough time for the Husker football team, when fans can’t decide whether to cheer or tar and feather the whole lot. So he doesn’t really get the Olympics.

We were watching swimming last night, and he continued the running commentary about how boring it was. That is, until the men’s 4×4 relay, when the U.S. earned gold four seconds faster than the gold medal. Then he decided maybe the Olympics weren’t so bad.

However, it occured to me that with cash prizes, outrageous salaries, and millions of dollars of endorsements dominating sports these days, we’ve forgotten what it’s like to play for nothing but the love of the game. These days there’s always a carrot, always a bonus or external reward. Even in kids’ sports, pressure begins early to make the select team so you can go to the right high school and then the right college, etc., etc., etc.

What about playing just because you love to play — regardless of the score, or the title, or the press coverage?

I’m not naive enough to think that Olympic athletes don’t have pro contracts and endorsements riding on their performance, but the whole atmosphere is different. Every athlete from every country has worked harder than they ever thought they could, and made sacrifices few of us can fathom. This is their one chance — to make their hard work pay off, to bring glory to their team, and to exalt their countries on the gold medal platform. Every action, every event, every mistake matters. And you can read it on every face.

As I ponder my future as a writer and speaker, I worry about the money, and about making ends meet and paying the bills. But I also love what I do. I think my face scrunches up in that look of determination each time I tackle a new project, and I know I take deep breaths when my deadline is looming fast. I smile in the face of criticism from fickle clients, and send e-mails with happy faces and explanation points when someone raves about my work.

Yeah, I’m sacrificing, as is my whole family. It’s scary, and uncertain, and at least once a week I consider finding a regular paycheck in an office somewhere.

But for as long as I can, I’m going to keep playing for the love of the game. It doesn’t happen often enough anymore, and I want my son to learn that there is amazing satisfaction in doing what you love. Go U.S.A.!!