So we’re a few days into this quadrennial (is that a word?) exposition and there have been many world records broken, some questionable international hoops, and one hell of a show during the Opening Ceremonies. Here are a few initial thoughts.
Communists can put on a show. Regardless of whether you buy into the “some of it was fake” nonsense that has been circulating in the headlines over the past week, no one can argue that those Commies can straight bring it in the Arts & Leisure section. The lights and choreography was well thought out, rehearsed, and more often than not, tied to Chinese history (as 2SL pointed out to me). I’ve got nothing but good things to say about it. It’s probably a lot easier to pull together when you can just show up at someone’s house and tell them that for the next 12 months, their goal is to learn a drum and dance routine (or develop superhuman jog-and-clap stamina) but either way, big thumbs up from this Cowboy. And if any of you thought that motherfucker was actually flying, we’ll you’re an idiot anyway. Also, the Easter Bunny is your MOTHER!
FIBA and NBA referees do not agree on how to officiate a game. We all know that international ball and NBA have more differences than similarities, but your average basketball fan would at least hope for a few… like say layups count for 2 points, everyone wears pants, and that if you get tackled shooting the basketball, it oughtta be followed by a whistle and a free throw or 2. If any of you other bastards have been getting up at 8 to watch Team USA (like me), you know the latter has not been happening recently. Especially in today’s game when J-Kidd gets backed down 14 feet by a 6’6″ Greek and gets called for a foul for standing his ground, or when LeBron is hitting (and missing) layups with somewhere between 4 and 12 Angolians draped around him with no call. DAMN YOU ANGOLIANS! It’s looking pretty clear that the small-lineup Americans (like I always said, go small this year Mike…. uh.. oh what?) will run away with the Gold and Silver, it would still be nice to watch a game somewhat similar to the game James Naismith had in mind.
Misty May Treanor and Kerri Walsh keep me young. I know you’ve all been taking solace as much as I have, watching Beach Volleyball goddesses May and Walsh. They’ve still never dropped a game in Olympic play, half the team is hot, and while I was poking around Wikipedia the other day found out that they are 31 and 29 (30 tomorrow, Ms. Walsh). Awesome! See, while older and dangerous behind the bar, we still can serve a useful purpose! I mentioned this to the Chinese gymnastics squad yesterday and was replied to with bursts of crying and running behind their parents’ knees. Children…
So in conclusion (which is how I managed to wrap up every paper in Sophomore Journalism), I’d like to end with an anecdote from my real life. I was outside my office building walking around in the beautiful Kentucky weather after lunch yesterday reading Tigers news on my Blackberry, when a Bulgarian developer from down the hall walked by and goes… “I guess you Americans are addicted to cell phones.”
I thought for a minute and said… “Yeah, that and GOLD MEDALS!!! USA! USA! USA!”
In the words of the world-class EdayStat: This is the kind of thing that can make me watch men’s volleyball and rowing, and be completely engrossed. Because I have someone to pull for!
I love the Olympics.