Well, it�s that time again, folks. The time when the yawning abyss of the Olympic Games opens wide and swallows me up like a black hole, allowing neither my interest nor my physical autonomy to escape. I am zombified, entranced by the mesmerizing ebb and flow of national pride as various athletes, whose names ring only the occasional bells, meet with the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat. Or, sometimes, the whiny protestation of circumstance. And even though I don�t know who half of these people are, I clutch them (metaphorically) to my bosom like my own flesh and blood.
Seriously, though, who are these people? Michael Phelps? Until, like, a month ago when he started appearing in every single credit card, cell phone, and automobile ad ever made (I think they may have actually gone back and digitally inserted him into already-running commercials for Sprint), I had no clue who this kid was. Now I know every line of his naked torso (not a bad fringe benefit, admittedly), but if you bring him up in two month�s time, I�ll still probably think you�re referring to That Guy Who Works At Starbucks, Or, No�Wait, I Mean The Gap. It�s The Gap, Right? The Guy From The Gap? Shit, Who�s Michael Phelps Again?
This fact aside, I still know that I�m going to be completely under the thrall of these people the minute I get home tonight. It�ll probably also make my run go a lot smoother when I keep pretending that I�m That One Guy Who�s Really Fast, Remember Him? I Think He Was Around Last Time, Too. But I love watching the Olympics, and never am I more patriotic than when a sound bite has introduced me to The Next Big Thing and then immediately thrown me over to The Race That Will Define His/Her Career. "GO USA!" I have an obnoxious tendency to shout. "Beat that guy from the country whose flag has that little green patch on it!" Because not only do I know next to nothing about the Olympians, but my knowledge of current global political geography (not to mention flags) is gravely lacking.
Now might be the time for me to ask, is it just me or are all the members of the United States� women�s gymnastics team all named "Courtney"? Maybe that�s a team solidarity thing. Remember a few years back when they were all named "Dominique"? Not that I completely understand gymnastics. I have enough trouble walking to door of my office without losing my balance, I can�t imagine trying to do it on a six-inch wide beam four feet off the ground. Hell, half of those girls are only about four feet tall, anyway. Every time they hit the ground on a landing, I expect to hear bones splintering, you know? That�s why gymnastics is such an appealing sport. Well, that and the fact that�have you seen the male gymnasts? They could bench press a tree with those biceps, would be my guess. Not that I�d recommend it.
But I really can�t seem to draw a line of distinction between what events are worth my enthusiasm, and what�s really just filler cooked up so that the IOC can sell a bunch more tickets to international tourists without enough money to attend real events. I�ll root as easily for shotput and the race-walking as I will for the 100-meter dash and 200-meter fly! Well, maybe not quite as hard. You can only watch a dude throw a lead baseball so many times before you�ve kind of done it, you know?
Anyway, I�m fairly sure that my love of the Olympics comes from a personal appreciation of the artistry of individual sports. Events where you�re competing as much against yourself as you are against others have always held a much greater appeal to me than team sports, for whatever reason, and those are what the Olympics is (largely) about. Sure, there are team sports, but the most venerated of all events -- the dashes, the hurtles, the uneven bars, and even the relays -- ultimately come down to the skill of one single athlete who�s not in it for the fame. Although, that doesn�t explain my general lack of interest during the intervening months.
Well, whatever the reason, the Olympics is my quadrennial televised crack, and I love it. Tonight? Men�s gymnastics team finals. See ya �round the podium!
Someone Got Here By Searching For: the biggest silverfish. I�m Watching: The men�s gymnastics semi-finals, and wondering why Aleksei Nemov and I only get together once every four years. And: Bubba Ho-Tep, which is funnier in concept than in execution.