"I love representing the U.S. I freaking love living there!" With those words, US Olympian Tamyra Mensah-Stock restored our faith in young, American athletes on the U.S. team.
Her infectious enthusiasm for her sport, her faith, and her country captivated Americans as her post-championship match interview went viral and then some across social media platforms worldwide.
I showed the video to a Midshipman at the United States Naval Academy, who I have the honor of sponsoring. He's an African American boxer for the Blue and Gold who grew up in South Dallas.
"She's from Texas, right?" he said to me immediately after watching her effervescent, flag-draped performance.
He could see it.
She wasn't a privileged, collegiate soccer player who was carted back and forth to practice in her suburban mom's minivan since she was eight. She didn't have the opportunity to grow up jaded and ungrateful, looking at our country from the perspective usually reserved for a proctologist.
No, this Olympian had a very different life experience.
She is African-American, but her African lineage on her father's side is much more immediate than the ancestors of slaves brought here on hellish slave ships hundreds of years ago. She is the daughter of a Ghana immigrant.
Her father came to this country voluntarily, seeking the freedoms and opportunities that only this nation can provide. He came here knowing our ugly past. Knowing the original sin of slavery. Knowing about Jim Crow laws, segregation, and the Klan. He came here because, despite all of that, we are still the freest, greatest hope on earth.
Maybe growing up in her father's house instilled in her the sense of gratitude and love that bubbled over in this flood of joy and patriotism.
Maybe her time at tiny Wayland Baptist University in Plainview, Texas, helped keep her grounded and focused on a broader perspective of what America truly is and what this nation means to the rest of the world. It's the kind of worldview you didn't really acquire in the Ivy Leagues or a university in California or the Pacific Northwest.
Maybe spending her time in Tokyo focusing on her sport and her gratitude for being part of the Olympic team rather than focusing on whether female wrestlers were getting paid as much as male wrestlers helped focus her concentration on winning the gold.
Maybe not being occupied with filming documentaries about what subdivided group she "represented" helped her aim for that winner's podium.
Maybe not being concerned over how she could best send a message through a protest before her match helped her hone in on what it took to actually be a champion.
We may never really know what makes Tamyra Mensah-Stock different than so many of the other athletes who went to Tokyo with great fanfare and high hopes for post-championship social justice proclamations only to return to our shores with thoughts of what could have been.
What we do know is that Tamyra Mensah-Stock is the kind of champion all our daughters and sons should aspire to be. We know that she's the kind of Olympian we can all root for. We know that if NBC Sports spent their time celebrating Tamyra Mensah-Stock, they'd see their television ratings soar while seeing their Twitter stock decline.
Tamyra Mensah-Stock loves her country and her family and her sport and her coaches and her savior. And she enthusiastically shouted her love from the highest reaches of her sport. She captivated us and made us believe in what the Olympics can really do for our national pride and patriotism.
The only depressing thing about the Tamyra Mensah-Stock story is that it is the exception, not the rule. It shouldn't be big news that an Olympic athlete loves her country. But it is.
Let's just enjoy it while it lasts.
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