Things I learned about life from the Olympics:

1. When it counts

Perhaps the most poignant moments were the falls.

Take Todd Eldredge. One of the greatest male skaters, he came to the games at age 30 having never won a medal, despite two tries. This, finally, was to be his moment.

But in his critical performance, he fell.

Michelle Kwan fell, too, and missed a chance at gold. A number of ski racers fell. Four years of effort, and because of one quirky mistake, they’re out of the running.

In each case, my first instinct was to think how unfair this was. Here were the best athletes in their sport, and yet, they have a bad millisecond in Salt Lake City and they don’t medal. Wouldn’t it make more sense to give skaters and skiers a half-dozen chances to do their routine? And then pick their best performance?

Well, no.

Because in the Olympics, perhaps as in much of life, the highest measure isn’t how well you do when you’re at your best.

It’s how well you do when it counts.

2. Crooked, by any other name

I was amused by the way some folks tried to defend the French judge at the center of the skating scandal. Her name is Marie-Reine Le Gougne, and she allegedly made a deal to vote for the Russians in return for a later vote for some French skaters in another competition. Or something like that. Her story changed a few times.

The head of the the International Skating Union insisted Le Gougne wasn’t a bad person, saying others “manipulated” her.

“Some people close to the judge,” he said, “have put someone who is honest, but emotionally fragile, under pressure.”

That’s a good one: “honest, but emotionally fragile.”

Whether it’s the Olympics or elsewhere, those exposed for cutting backroom deals to favor the undeserving can say all they want about being good people who gave in to pressure. It won’t be true.

When it comes to morality, you can float explanations like “emotionally fragile” all you want. But it’s just a different name for “crooked.”

3. Slackers?

Early on, during the snowboard and moguls competitions, I wondered why the athletes wore such baggy pants and jackets. They looked more like Generation Y types hanging outside a piercing parlor than Olympians.

Then I began to watch. And I found that this was serious athleticism.

The ultimate, to me, were the freestyle ski aerialists the ones who launched off a vertical snow-ramp, did multiple somersaults, and landed full-speed on a steep slope.

We marvel at ice-skaters, gymnasts and high-divers when they do their spins and flips. But I’m not sure I know another event where athletes do as many flips, as high off the ground, as aerial ski freestylers. Not to mention the equipment. Imagine a gymnast or high diver doing their routines on skis.

I think these Winter Games have showcased a whole new level of gymnastics.

What does that say about life? Well, the next time I see some Gen-Y types in baggy pants, I won’t be labeling them “slackers” anymore.

4. Heart vs. talent

If you were the betting type, you’d have gone with the U.S. women’s hockey team in its gold-medal match against the Canadians.

Of their previous eight games against Canada, the U.S. women had won all eight. They were on a 35-game winning streak in total.

But once that game began, something became clear. The Canadian women were playing harder. Afterward, even some of the American women admitted as much.

That doesn’t mean the Canadians have more talent. The U.S. women, in my book, remain the best in that.

But during that game, the Canadians showed more desire.

That’s an important word. You can’t easily control your level of talent, but you can control your desire. If you show enough of it, you can often beat an opponent who’s more skilled.

That’s worth remembering, whether we’re talking about women’s hockey or about life: The main thing is to want the puck.