To Kevin, et al.,

There's a man who stands outside the restroom here at the Media Center.  I know you've seen him. It's the same guy every day, and he stands there without fail. He says hello when you go in, and wishes you a good day when you go out. (I keep thinking that this poor guy applied to be a volunteer because he wanted to be a part of the Olympics... how could he know that his part would be to monitor the bathroom activities of the press?) I'm not trying to drag this blog into a bout of potty humor, Kevin. But I don't think that man is stationed outside the bathroom as a simple courtesy. It's about control. It's about having someone stationed within 12 inches of every human being at these Olympics.

As the Chinese learned today, it doesn't matter how much planning you do, it doesn't matter how many billions of dollars you throw at the Games and it doesn't matter how many people call China home. You cannot control everything.

Certainly, what happened earlier today at the Drum Tower was a travesty. It's unfortunate, it's heart-breaking and you can take whatever message from it that you'd like. But here's what I take away: Things are going to happen that are beyond anyone's control. An earthquake is going to strike. A madman is going to strike. Something is going to happen, no matter how hard you plan. I alluded to this in my previous post, but I was bothered -- or perhaps I should say I was offended -- that in Dujiangyan, a city official would try to usher me to a bright, shiny tourist destination and even suggest that many people were better off after the earthquake than before. The message was clear: If it's said aloud, it must be true. But it's not.

Shame was not brought on China today by a man with a knife. We should not think less of a nation because of a single act by a single person. He's one man among a billion. You can't plan for everyone's actions. The unfortunate stabbing does not reflect on China as a nation, just as the victims do not reflect on the United States. It's random. The world, at times, is random. Sometimes that's beautiful. Sometimes it causes great pain.

But you can't control it. No matter how hard you try.

I mentioned in my last post that I was excited that we could finally focus on actual competition at these Games. Today, Kevin, we watched the first bit of swimming from the Water Cube and it felt good. For a couple of hours, we were talking about swim times and records and wondering whether Michael Phelps and Katie Hoff were just one night of sleep away from gold medals. Why aren't we doing this more often? The Olympics have grown into a shape-shifting symbol -- whatever message needs a carrier, it seems.

But sometimes, it's fruitless to assign meaning. Todd Bachman's death was as sad as it was senseless. But it was something that I'm not sure anyone could have controlled.