What the Olympics Understand About Storytelling That Most Brands Don’t

I am completely captivated by the Olympics.

I record it. I clear my schedule. I watch hours and hours of sports I couldn’t name, explain, or pretend to care about outside of this two-week window.

Which is strange because I am not a sports person. You will never catch me watching ice skating, curling, hockey, or skiing at any other time. And yet, every four years, I’m emotionally invested in Big Air qualifiers and the fate of the luge team from Ukraine.

Recently, someone who knows that I am not a sports enthusiast asked why I liked the Olympics so much. When I tried to explain it, something clicked.

The Olympics teach me to care.

And they do it in an identifiable strategic way that our industry could learn a lot from.

They Don’t Assume We Know The Backstory

When my husband watches football or baseball on a random weekend, I overhear the commentators in the background. Occasionally, they’ll drop a quick note about a rivalry, a franchise history, or a star player. But mostly, it’s assumed that if you’re watching, you already know the backstories. You know the teams. You know the stakes. You know why this game matters.

The Olympics don’t work like that.

With the Olympics, it’s never assumed that you know the world leaders in cross-country skiing, or why this qualifier matters, or what makes one rhythm dance routine technically superior to another. Instead, they slow down and bring you in.

They do this with micro-storytelling.

We don’t get a half-hour special or introduction on each sport. Instead, we receive snippets of information throughout the event. An aerial shot of the course. A reference to the ice “pebbling” condition on the curling rink. How the edge of a skate sounds compared to the flat part of the blade, and what that indicates. The result is enough understanding for the viewer to enjoy the event. The goal isn’t total mastery. I can’t call out the different tricks in Big Air or explain why one skating twirl is a four, and another is a three. But for each event, I get the basics: I understand the goal, who’s doing what, and why. And that’s really all you need, isn’t it?

As wineries, we handle education in one of two ways. We either assume a baseline level of inherited knowledge or accepted street cred. We reference legacy, estate, or “iconic” vineyards without slowing down to explain what that means or why those terms matter. Or we go the other way and create seated-lecture classes on soil samples and blending percentages. We assert that you must know everything about wine to possibly appreciate it.

The Olympics remind us: if your story is important, people will get it if you find ways to tell it continually in micro-doses.

Questions for wineries:

When you look through your guest “script”, how can you weave educational bits throughout the experience? If you find it all educational, how can you break it up?

They Put the Humans Before the Product

To continue that thought, note that we don’t fall in love with a triple axel—we fall in love with the person attempting it. The Olympics lead with people, then performance. We learn about the athlete’s family. Their injuries. The years they almost quit. The political upheaval they trained through. The partner they had to replace six months ago. The fact that they grew up sharing ice time at 5 a.m. because it was the only slot their parents could afford. By the time the athlete competes, we’re emotionally invested.

Wine is no different. The human stories—winemakers, growers, tasting room staff, multi-generation families—create the emotional entry point. The product lands harder when we know who’s behind it.

Questions for wineries:

Rather than explaining your wine as a product, how can you highlight the people who made that wine instead? What stories exist about your winery staff, field, and cellar workers, or vendors and families? It takes a village to make a wine, so how can you share their stories?

This Combination Teaches People How to Enjoy

The commentators for the Olympics do an incredible job of combining micro-education with a human perspective. But it’s this blend of technical knowledge, educational insights, and human backstories in the context that really hits home. They constantly provide explanations of what’s happening as it happens—what to watch for, how it’s scored, why that landing was exceptional, or why that small wobble actually matters. Yes, they include some technical details, such as the pressure in pounds per square inch on your knees during moguls and how speed skates differ from figure skates. But they add insight into the experience without slowing down or talking down to the audience.

You’re learning while being entertained, and you don’t even realize it.

That combination—human story plus accessible education—delivered in context, is powerful.

Question for wineries:

We often separate education from experience—tasting notes over here, story over there, technical details buried in a PDF. But people engage more deeply when they’re guided in real time. How can you explain why this vineyard matters as someone is tasting it? Or, explain what that acid does for food pairing as they sip?

The Stakes Are Clear

Every Olympic moment carries tension: a comeback, a final chance, a first-ever qualification. You know exactly what’s on the line. A comment about where the Italian skier fell in her last run. The symbolism in her helmet. A quick shot of her family at the bottom of the run and her new husband with a sign.

When all is done, I find myself caring deeply about whether this skier, who is returning from injury, makes the podium in the Super G. Not because I understand or relate to the Super G, but because I understand and relate to her challenge. And it didn’t require brain power or a lecture on how she skis or how the course works.

Wineries rarely articulate stakes beyond “this is limited.” But, again, that’s putting the product in the center. The stakes are so much more powerful when they’re human.

Questions for wineries:
How can you answer: Why does this wine exist? Why now? What almost didn’t happen? Stakes create emotional urgency, not just transactional pressure.

Finally: They Focus on Earning Attention, Not Asking for Loyalty

The Olympics don’t start by assuming you’re a fan or asking you to be a fan for life. They earn your current attention and admiration with story, clarity, and context. They build understanding first, then attachment. By the time the medal ceremony rolls around, you’re fully invested.

Our industry often does the opposite—pushing wine clubs, allocations, and purchases before people feel connected. We tend to make signing up for a wine club the main goal, which is okay. The problem is when the message becomes “commit to this, or you’re dead to us.” If there’s no other way to be a fan and involved with the winery without signing up for the club, the opportunity is missed. Attention is valuable; it must be earned, not taken for granted. So how can you build on the initial hour they agreed to spend with you? When people understand you and feel something for you, loyalty naturally follows.

Questions for wineries:

What other ways, besides a wine club, can you extend an experience for a customer? Are you doing all you can to add to mailing lists and provide engaging and authentic content on social media and other digital streams? What program ideas can your team come up with that are less than a club commitment but keep a dialogue open?