Nobody has to look far to find proof of what’s wrong with the world. China or elsewhere, talk of problems, issues and scandals dominates coverage. I’ve opened the door for a cheap shot at the Chinese media, but I’ll refrain. Insert your own propaganda joke here.

The Beijing Olympics employ “One World, One Dream” as their tagline. And as impossible as it might be to achieve in the so-called real world, the world’s games provide an opportunity to see what this single world and single vision might look like.

As I mingled among coaches and wrestlers on a Monday afternoon before the Olympics began in a feeble attempt to productive fetching quotes, one scene in particular struck me as genuinely Olympic.

A colleague and I had conversed about what a Georgia vs. Russia matchup in a wrestling medal match would mean to those wrestlers, those nations and the international media coverage amid the countries’ warfare.

Such a scenario wasn’t unfathomable. At the 132-pound weight class a day later, a surprise Russian won a Gold medal in a tournament where a Georgian was favored.

Fewer than 15 minutes after the conversation wrapped up, we found ourselves chatting beside one of several practice mats outside the Georgian locker room. A Russian wrestler paced toward a Georgian athlete and put his arm around him. Their conversation continued for several minutes in a lighthearted tone, from what I could gather.

I can’t speak Russian, or Georgian. Being wrestlers, not a language scholars, there wasn’t a whole lot of English going around among the competitors, either. Besides, my job strictly prohibits political questions. I work for the Olympics, something the IOC would prefer calling an apolitical sporting event, remember?

But I wish I had a camera at that moment. It might have won an award. If there was one image to capture the Olympic spirit, that was it. They weren’t talking as rivals, as their warm-up jackets may have otherwise suggested. They were just a couple of guys shooting the breeze in what’s supposed to be an event that begins with a truce. These guys had it down. Friendly acquaintances now, opponents in sport tomorrow, then back to friendly acquaintances after a congratulatory handshake.

Trying to pull that off in the real world? Sounds like a dream, although it’s still possible in athletics without pesky reporters asking those political questions.

At the wrestling venue on Thursday, after eight days of competition, journalists finally found an appropriate opening to ask the loaded question, tying athletics to warfare. In fact, a Reuters reporter wasted absolutely no time raising the issue.

After our strenuous rehearsals weeks before where we practiced the question screening techniques, I anxiously awaited how the moderator would handle this first obvious one.

It was posed by a Reuters journalist directed to the 185-pound Georgian champion, Revazi Mindorashvili.

The translators took over, repeating versions of, “How did the conflict in South Ossetia affect you in wrestling a Russian in the semifinal?”

From English to Russian to Chinese, the words followed the chain of command.

Wisely, Mindorashvili answered by wishing well to everyone involved and hoped for a peaceful resolution to a horrifying situation for those countries.

Great — a graceful ending to an inevitable question. But then a Chinese journalist re-opened the wound with a similar question.

This time, visibly more agitated with the second go-round, he gave a more succinct answer.

“We’re athletes,” Mindorashvili said. “We don’t deal with politics. Our job is to fight on the mat. Our job is sports, nothing more.”

Perfect. He stuck the landing, won by fall, and set the world record all in three sentences. It was graceful, profound and most importantly, true.

Nathan Cooper is in Beijing to cover the Games of the XXIX Olympiad. He is a part-time Tribune employee and a 2005 graduate of Glenville-Emmons High School.