Sitting on the Medal Stand Waiting for the Olympics to Return
Olympics withdrawal is part of training. You might think it’s harder to exert in a gym or pool. But you’re very wrong just as if you had bet on North Korean basketball. Viewers who now face desolate hours have ample time to ponder how we wasted hours before watching every sport all the time for part of this special summer. Life is about cherishing rare fond memories during largely lousy times, so the global athletic swap meet shouldn’t be any different.
Fasting follows a sporting buffet. Choosing between volleyball, the other volleyball, cylindrical net volleyball which I call basketball, and people racing on land and by sea without any nets at all is the delightful overindulgence available every few summers.
I knew I recognized the host city: it’s the one from John Wick 4. Paris seems so obvious that the only problem is the lack of surprise. That’s why Jerry and company chose to fly there. I wonder if they made it for the Olympics while on parole. As for me, I’m finally back on the clock assigned to me after adjusting to French time. I improved in the event after starting the Games as confused by zones as Marvin Barnes.
Using the city as a venue is as clever as it is efficient right up until getting directly familiar with the water. The river looks nice from the banks. As with impressionist paintings, the Seine is not as impressive up close. Participants couldn’t apply an Instagram filter while swimming. The ick for gold was a different form of danger than riding a bicycle on wet cobblestones but just as dangerous.
Of course, it wouldn’t be an Olympics without screwing up simple chances. An opening ceremony that offended both Christians and people with good taste was helpful if setting a low standard counts. Skeptics try their hardest to unite with a world that keeps reminding them why global misanthropy remains appealing. And those who actually care about female athletes shouldn’t let a woman-beater crush competition in an appalling way.
But we try to appreciate the successes, even if just for the novelty of cheering for an activity typically treated as a diversion by day drinkers or twitchy teens. Sports played casually except for Olympians taking them seriously take on a new dimension. A brawl between badminton and table tennis players is all about who has home field advantage. Will it take place in the yard or basement?
Competition on Europe’s schedule meant avoiding spoilers like it’s the end of Breaking Bad. Do you think the guy in the Members Only jacket shot Walter White? I spent about a week trying to determine if I already saw any particular swimming race. Have they moved their arms in this way at this distance?
I can’t believe this garbage pile can even stand. Watch this embodiment of losing have the nerve to splash upon entering the water. You deserve to live with the stain of that three-tenths deduction. I’m just applying to be an Olympic TV commentator.
Learning about sports is my best event. The key is to forget. I probably gleaned fencing’s rules during the previous competition, and poor memory allows for constant discovery. I wish it were an Olympic event, although it may be and I just forgot. Anyway, isn’t water polo wild? It’s like handball where you spend the game not drowning. As for the army version of the naval sport, handball goalies are the only ones able to withstand the lava area.
There are two types of Americans: fellow country-lovers who stand in their living rooms when the anthem’s played during the medal ceremony and seated commie spies whose real names are Ivan and Svetlana. Knowing someone from Omaha is faster than someone from Oslo is how countries establish who’s the best. We’ll even dominate your pinko metric distances.
The most enthusiastic time for flag-waving reminds us that America is great despite flaws and not awful because of them. Typical pouters could try being proud of their country even after the backstroke is in the rear mirror. If everyone who says they only feel patriotic during the Olympics had packed during commercials, they could’ve moved by the closing ceremony. There’s still time.
This is also one of those years that included a July 4 if you feel particularly enthusiastic. Seeing an old friend to reminisce is all about the defined timeframe. Being a fan of, say, swimming two weeks every four years works out for lightweights. I don’t dislike it while I’m not thinking about it, but infrequency spurs intensity.
Maybe I’d tire of ice cream for every breakfast. But I still think I’d eat as many pints as Van Leeuwen was willing to send if they sponsored me. The event seems special because it’s rare. I still think I’d enjoy a monthly Olympics as much. Then again, Christmas music sounds weird at any other time of year, so keeping on schedule could help maintain appeal. I’ll miss you, but you have to go away first.
Do you get a gold medal for winning the most gold medals? I ask existential questions to distract from how sad it feels to be the furthest possible time away from an even more modern pentathlon. It’s not just the rather occasional nature but what’s happening during them that makes the Olympics thrilling. I’m a Buffalo sports fan: waiting four years is a blink.
