Let's cross our fingers for luck and enter three minefields dominating our sporting discussions.
Common sense would say that if the majority of people in the host country of Japan don't want the Olympics to be held in a time of plague, then the International Olympic Committee would shut them down.
But this is the IOC. The Games will go on, and here's the weird part. In a decade or two the dark cloud hanging over Tokyo will be largely forgotten by New Zealand sports fans.
That's not being cynical, just taking a lesson from history of how we've reacted when Games have been wracked by controversy.
I'd bet good money that most people old enough to remember the 1976 Games in Montreal have a warm glow whenever shots of the magnificent John Walker winning the 1500 metres appear on our television screens. It's doubtful that the memories are crowded out by the fact that because of an All Black team touring apartheid-era South Africa, those Games were boycotted by almost every African nation, which meant Walker's greatest rival, Filbert Bayi of Tanzania, was not in Montreal.
Fast forward to 1984 in Los Angeles, and the domination of the Kiwi kayakers on the water at Lake Casitas. Again, how many of us when recalling the brilliance of Ian Ferguson and his teammates immediately think of the Communist bloc boycott of the '84 Games, which followed western countries not going to Moscow in 1980?
Should the world of sport really be descending on Tokyo next month?
No, but it will, and in the process there will be a couple of weeks when, for a vast number of viewers, television will be a happy place, where sport, which of itself has no politics, and no axes to grind, will provide an oasis of pleasure. It may be artificial, and unrelated to grim realities outside the stadiums, but so is great music, drama, art, and literature, all of which sustain us when times get tough.
In the age we're all living through, watching the Olympics is a happy diversion, and who doesn't feel the need for something joyous in 2021?
The Osaka story is hugely fraught, because it combines two wildly different issues, mental health and the stunning amounts of money in top level professional sport.
We should begin by never questioning the premise that Osaka battles with depression.
Of all people New Zealanders should be able to grasp the concept that performing like a champion on the court or field doesn't provide a bulletproof shield that guarantees good mental health.
Surely Sir John Kirwan blasted that myth, when he told us of the anxiety and dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him, even as he was the king of the rugby world in an All Black jersey.
Osaka's talents have placed her squarely at the centre of a multi-million dollar tennis industry that reacted with what could only be called brutality to her French Open interview boycott.
In a joint statement the organisers of Wimbledon, and the French, American, and Australian Opens, said "We have advised Naomi Osaka that should she continue to ignore her media obligations during the (French) tournament, she would be exposing herself to possible further Code of Conduct infringement consequences." Repeat violations could lead to "future Grand Slam suspensions."
Her sponsors, who last year paid her $46 million for endorsements, have rushed to say they support her stand. That support may not be entirely from a sense of decency and concern.
There was a chillingly cynical comment from a leading New York marketing expert that Osaka's issues actually make her "more authentic, and therefore more valuable" to corporate sponsors.
No doubt that's true right now, but it may not be so if her tennis career falters too badly.
Osaka is only 23 years old. She is also a money machine for people around her. In the end you can hope that kindness will outweigh commerce, but who could bet with confidence against advisors forever telling her to look after herself first, and not to worry about refilling the money bin?
Should there be a statute of limitations on how far back in a sportsperson's life it's possible to go to punish bad behaviour?
English bowler Ollie Robinson is on the brink of a test ban for posting a bunch of pathetic tweets, mocking women, Muslims, and Asians. He was 18 at the time. Nine years later they emerged online, on the first day of his debut for England at Lord's.
Robinson appears to be a classic case of arrested development in many areas of his life. In 2014 he was sacked by Yorkshire when they discovered he was making all night drives to and from Kent to catch up with mates for parties.
As a father, grandfather, and someone who was once 18, I can vouch for the fact that many teenage boys' brains do not remotely function in an adult way. As a 19-year-old in 1966 I was given a last warning by the New Zealand Herald after turning up drunk for a Sunday shift at what was my dream job in the sports department.
The young Robinson was clearly an entitled dork, a condition probably not helped by the fact he was a scarily quick teenage fast bowler, admired, and no doubt sometimes feared, by the grown men he played with and against.
He's now 27, and appears to be, as he should, contrite about his youthful behaviour. Should he be in the last chance saloon? Yes. Should he be banned? No.