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It opens with clashing cymbals and some thundering beats of a timpani followed by a few bars of trumpet fanfare that make us, in some weird Pavlovian manner, turn into fans of sports we completely forgot existed for the previous three years and fifty weeks. We hear those trumpets and something makes the room go silent so we can catch up with how the Norwegian handball team is doing. That “Olympics music” is so expected, so anticipated, so demanded by Americans, it is used no matte

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