xtcian

east german judge screwed me

8/18/04

There are no doubt other bloggers out there doing a bang-up job of blogging the Olympics, but I just have to say a few things.

Actually, wait a minute. There should be some sort of shorthand for that kind of sentence, because I find myself using it all the time in here. In other words, I guess it's some sort of fear of being predictable, of saying what thirty other people at my subway stop haven't already said, with more feeling, about fifteen hours before. When you write about politics, TV or anything else to do with culture, there's always this voice that says "some blogger in North Platte, Nebraska had the final word on this already." I guess all I can hope is that I bring something to the table. As Sting said, "Anyone can sing 'Slip Sliding Away,' but only Paul Simon has that voice'."

Where was I? Ah yes, the friggin' Olympics. I have been silently obsessed with the Olympics since 1976, when as a randy 8-year-old, I had a crush on Nadia Comaneci that could fuel a hundred thousand suns (she's still gorgeous) and thus spent every waking moment at the tube, even thrilling at archery and the triple jump.

The 1980 Olympics sucked for obvious reasons (because of Afghanistan, if you remember) and the 1984 Olympics awakened some uncomfortable feelings I had about abject American jingoism. To me, the '92 Barcelona and the '96 Atlanta Games brought back the same breathless childlike anticipation. Even now, I can gauge the effects of the Celexa by seeing if I get choked up at any awards ceremony (I do – unlike 2000 when I was on Prozac and a total robot).

There is one constant annoyance throughout the years, however: the commentators. It's almost always a network shill paired with the "color" announcer, usually some gold medalist from years past. The problem is, the shill NEVER knows what the hell is going on ("Would you say that was a good jump?") and the color guy is ravenously judgmental.

I know it's the only time they get a national audience for the thing they've obsessed about for 40 years, but come ON. At the beginning of every race or routine, the color commentator will launch into a five-second tirade of invective about how that athlete has ALREADY FUCKED UP.

The gymnastics guy is the worst: four seconds into the routine, he'll say something like "well, his medal chances are over." I mean, give the gymnast a break! He might do a Thomas Flair and then pull an original edition of "Look Homeward, Angel" out of his ass!

The way they eviscerated Paul Hamm for fucking up the vault, you'd think he gave the nuclear launch codes to the North Koreans. It was sweet revenge when the cheese-fed Hamm stormed back for the gold; the commentators totally blew a gasket. Served them right for writing him off.

I could do without the "dolphin kick controversy" in swimming (boring!) and the endless musing on why our basketball team blows green donkey dicks. Everyone knows why this team sucks; it's been a long time coming, and god knows we deserve it. All I can hope is that Roy comes back to Carolina and says to our guys, "okay, you see what happens when you play like selfish, trifecta-clanging narcissists – may I suggest the Carolina way instead?"