Monday, August 16, 2004
My entertainment is as good as gold.
Let me just say that this last weekend's Olympic games have been just plain lymptastic! Actually, they've been only slightly more interesting than the constant wave of forensic/new detective/FBI shows that is normally on. These kinds of shows have been a mainstay on my tube since Nina discovered her skills in the kitchen. Don't ask. But this weekend it was all about McDonald's commercials interspersed with some competitions in Athens, Greece.
With the past two days of swimming and gymnastics (with the occasional spice of women's volleyball) behind me, I can start forming my permanent memories of the 2004 Olympic Games. Everybody has these memories. These are the memories that play out like the MasterCard montages of American pride and the spirit and joy of pure competition. You can see the flashes of the athletes straining in effort, glancing worried at the times, and pumping arms in victory. But somehow for me, it's cementing in my head like more of a bloopers reel.
Each night I would be watching these men and women who have trained their entire lives in their respective events. And so far I haven't been disappointed in their abilities to leap, stroke, jump, and slip up in the end on some fundamental move, eliminating them from the finals. Like this one Chinese gymnast who decided to show off far more than needed in the prelims. It was an honor just watching such skill on a pommel horse. But then he failed to affect a basic dismount, resulting in his elimination. That just made my week.
Nina and the others in the room kept droning on about how sad it was. "Oh, that's so sad." "I can't believe they eliminate him for one little mistake" "They should let him do it over" Not me. I say, "Thank you, oppressed foreign athlete. Thank you for an abysmal failure on global television". And then you get to see that face afterward when it starts to sink in that he just spent fifteen years in pursuit of a goal that took two seconds of arrogance to lose forever. Classic.
I know I'm not alone when I say that few things are more entertaining as when a person screws up like this. And it's not just the competition. Our own American teams are proving that blowing it is trait found throughout humanity. Go dream team! oh. Go swim team! damn. How about baseball? We're Americans! We can't possible fail at baseball, can we? shit. And this is only day three. If I were a betting man, I'd put down the deed to the house that the front-runner in the marathon trips on his own feet on the final quarter mile, breaking off his foot at the ankle. That would be tragic. But I'd probably still laugh, and, in secret, so would most everyone else I know.
So in an effort to keep my imagination sharp and push out the revelation that I can't keep my balance after a four inch vertical jump, I've tried to come up with ways we could keep these athletes on their toes. And suddenly it dawned on me: hazards! I say if Crash Bandicoot can go through so many hazards and still get the crystals, these pampered blowhards should be able to dodge a few spikes for the gold. I want spring-loaded spears in the pools. I want motion triggered poison darts pointed at the hurdlers, barbed wire around the pole vault, and landmines in the triple jump.
How about we replace the starting gun with a WWII flamethrower pointed at the starting blocks? We could add a circular saw to the center of the pommel horse. And I see no reason why we can't add a three second fuse to the shot put. I think that if the planet's top athletes thought there was a little more on the line than their reputation we'd see far fewer blunders. I mean imagine you're a sprinter. Wouldn't you be minding your footing a bit more if you knew there were a dozen chainsaw wielding cyclists behind you? Or how about a trap door to a crocodile pit directly underneath the balance rings or an acid moat surrounding the exercise floor boundary lines? Hell, with events like this I wouldn't care what drugs these guys and gals took to get stronger and faster.
One last thing for the Olympic committee to consider. What if they could randomly select one event for the entire sixteen days in which the silver and bronze platforms were equipped with flame spouts? And those spouts would be activated just as the gold medal winner's national anthem peaks. Then you get that split second to see the numbers two and three guys' faces as they realize the cost of losing just before they're engulfed in flames and singed to the bone. I just want that little extra bit of motivation from our best athletes.
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With the past two days of swimming and gymnastics (with the occasional spice of women's volleyball) behind me, I can start forming my permanent memories of the 2004 Olympic Games. Everybody has these memories. These are the memories that play out like the MasterCard montages of American pride and the spirit and joy of pure competition. You can see the flashes of the athletes straining in effort, glancing worried at the times, and pumping arms in victory. But somehow for me, it's cementing in my head like more of a bloopers reel.
Each night I would be watching these men and women who have trained their entire lives in their respective events. And so far I haven't been disappointed in their abilities to leap, stroke, jump, and slip up in the end on some fundamental move, eliminating them from the finals. Like this one Chinese gymnast who decided to show off far more than needed in the prelims. It was an honor just watching such skill on a pommel horse. But then he failed to affect a basic dismount, resulting in his elimination. That just made my week.
Nina and the others in the room kept droning on about how sad it was. "Oh, that's so sad." "I can't believe they eliminate him for one little mistake" "They should let him do it over" Not me. I say, "Thank you, oppressed foreign athlete. Thank you for an abysmal failure on global television". And then you get to see that face afterward when it starts to sink in that he just spent fifteen years in pursuit of a goal that took two seconds of arrogance to lose forever. Classic.
I know I'm not alone when I say that few things are more entertaining as when a person screws up like this. And it's not just the competition. Our own American teams are proving that blowing it is trait found throughout humanity. Go dream team! oh. Go swim team! damn. How about baseball? We're Americans! We can't possible fail at baseball, can we? shit. And this is only day three. If I were a betting man, I'd put down the deed to the house that the front-runner in the marathon trips on his own feet on the final quarter mile, breaking off his foot at the ankle. That would be tragic. But I'd probably still laugh, and, in secret, so would most everyone else I know.
So in an effort to keep my imagination sharp and push out the revelation that I can't keep my balance after a four inch vertical jump, I've tried to come up with ways we could keep these athletes on their toes. And suddenly it dawned on me: hazards! I say if Crash Bandicoot can go through so many hazards and still get the crystals, these pampered blowhards should be able to dodge a few spikes for the gold. I want spring-loaded spears in the pools. I want motion triggered poison darts pointed at the hurdlers, barbed wire around the pole vault, and landmines in the triple jump.
How about we replace the starting gun with a WWII flamethrower pointed at the starting blocks? We could add a circular saw to the center of the pommel horse. And I see no reason why we can't add a three second fuse to the shot put. I think that if the planet's top athletes thought there was a little more on the line than their reputation we'd see far fewer blunders. I mean imagine you're a sprinter. Wouldn't you be minding your footing a bit more if you knew there were a dozen chainsaw wielding cyclists behind you? Or how about a trap door to a crocodile pit directly underneath the balance rings or an acid moat surrounding the exercise floor boundary lines? Hell, with events like this I wouldn't care what drugs these guys and gals took to get stronger and faster.
One last thing for the Olympic committee to consider. What if they could randomly select one event for the entire sixteen days in which the silver and bronze platforms were equipped with flame spouts? And those spouts would be activated just as the gold medal winner's national anthem peaks. Then you get that split second to see the numbers two and three guys' faces as they realize the cost of losing just before they're engulfed in flames and singed to the bone. I just want that little extra bit of motivation from our best athletes.
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