SYDNEY – Australians refer to their homeland as “Oz.” For the next two weeks we will learn if that is the Toto or the HBO version. Whether we skip down the Yellow Brick Road or trip down a black hole of drugs and thugs.

While most of America sleeps, the Summer Olympics will open tomorrow night in a country that was formed as a penal colony and at a site in Homebush that was once the locale for a massive garbage dump and slaughterhouse. Let us hope that is not a metaphor for these Games.

In fact, let us hope, that somehow the 27th Summer Olympics rise above our cynicism and skepticism and – at least for a few stirring moments – move us to believe in cornball notions about human spirit and peace among the world’s athletes.

Let us hope the “N” words of this international sports orgy – NBC and Nike – do not pre-package and plausibly live all the spontaneous moments that can occur when great pressure and great athletes mix. The Olympics should not follow a script devised in Eugene, Oregon or mid-Manhattan. They should unfurl full of surprise and wonder.

Let us hope each time an Olympian achieves the Games’ motto of Citius, Altius, Fortius (swifter, higher, stronger) that we also do not instantly think Drugius. Already the International Olympic Committee is being criticized for not using the most stringent tests to ferret drug cheats at these Games, wanting the potential of being caught to act as the deterrent. Shadows might hover over every personal best, Olympic standard or world record.

Let us hope, instead, that athletes get to the medal stand through hard work, not human growth hormones; through bloodied knees, not blood doping.

And let us hope we do not become mesmerized by the medal stand alone. These Games are rich with people who come from corners of the globe where training facilities, coaching and nutrition are not bountiful. There will be athletes eliminated in early-morning heats in swimming or track and field or weight lifting, who will nevertheless establish national records, meaning they are better than anyone else ever was from their country. That sounds like the definition of an Olympic winner.

So, therefore, let us hope Marion Jones finds the stamina and skill to challenge for five gold medals. But let us hope her mini-series does not maximize all our time, attention and words.

In fact, let us hope that while cheering for Jones and other Americans we do not drown in jingoism. Remember that many of the best athletes in the world train at least part of the year in the United States, which means we already are big winners before these Games even begin. Because this is the triumph of not only our technology and instruction and facilities, but also of our willingness to throw open our borders and hearts to the best of the best. So since the melting pot still works, it is a triumph of our way of life.

But Americans do not do everything well. So let us hope that – besides hosting Summer Games – that all Atlanta and Australia have in common is they begin and end with an “A.” In 1996, those stood for abysmal and awful for Atlanta, which kept bragging about what a wonderful job it was doing even as a woman was dead in Centennial Park after an explosion, technology and transportation were returned to the Dark Ages, and the city was over-commercialized.

Let us hope, Australia can rise to what just might have become an impossible challenge, hosting an Olympics with more than 10,000 athletes from 200 countries competing in 28 sports. Already bus drivers – many from outside of Sydney – have become so frustrated with their conditions that they are threatening to leave, which would cripple these Games. Before the torch has even been lit, Sydneysiders are showing an overwhelmed side when it comes to coping with these staggering numbers.

Let us hope, a combination of Aussie laid-back good nature and the splendor of the harbor area washes away as many problems as possible.

Let us hope winners well outnumber whiners. It is going to be chilly here, especially at night, because this is the Southern Hemisphere and still winter. But it is going to be chilly for everyone equally.

Let us hope when we hear the phrase, “shark in the water,” it is in reference to a human swimming prodigy and not the sharp-toothed, dorsal-finned type that officials at these Games swear will not be dining in Sydney Harbor during the triathlon. Let’s hope the only jaws that annoy us are those flapping mandibles of Gary Payton.

Let us hope we can hear the voices of the oppressed and downtrodden, beginning with the Aboriginals here, without hearing the sounds of explosions and mournful cries associated with terrorism.

Let us hope IOC head Juan Antonio Samaranch and his bribal infrastructure are no more than background pieces and that biased judges do not determine outcomes of events. These Games are for the athletes.

Let us hope, in this age when we move too fast and believe in too little, that the original ideals of the Olympics can break through between now and Oct. 1. That we can find the great joy and motivation from sport that comes with watching athletes do something exceedingly well by pushing what we thought were the restraints on our strength or agility or endurance.

Let us hope the Opening Ceremonies and lighting of the Olympic flame tomorrow night ushers the best of ourselves to overcome all that can and, in too many instances, will go awry before that flame is extinguished.