Before starting, I just have to say I now regret my choice of blog post title. I now have a highly-related Andy Williams Christmas song stuck in my head. If you do too, then I’m also sorry about that. Life is full of risks.
Last week I posted an excerpt from my still-yet-unnamed and hopefully-soon-to-be-completed “cancer” book. It’s a pseudo-diary covering a period of time now four years in the past.
It doesn’t seem possible. I must’ve blacked out and only recently returned to consciousness by Robin Williams administering experimental levels of L-Dopa on me. There’s no other explanation for it.
A big challenge about writing this book four years after-the-fact is simply remembering what I did back then. In fact, if it weren’t for this modern age we live in, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it at all. Fortunately I have email, pictures, a Facebook timeline, and other digital footprints to help jog the old noggin.
One event, however, that I do not need any sort of help remembering happened four years ago this week. It’s the event I call the most wonderful time of the quadrennium. (That’s the word meaning a four-year period. Don’t say this blog never taught you anything.) What is this event, you might ask? Why, it’s the Olympics of course. They start today! Woo hoo!
Oddly enough, I don’t like sports. Not in the least bit. My brain lacks the wiring to even begin to comprehend why so many people put so much time and effort and emotion into it. Cheering for the home team, to me, sounds like: “The collection of sports people I most closely identify with crossed the line down there more often than the collection of sports people that you most closely identify with during the prescribed period of time. We are clearly ranked at the top of the complete list of collections of sports people! See how my livery reflects my support of my preferred collection of sports people!”
If it was just a matter of ignoring something I don’t like, no problem. But I pay for television, and now it’s a problem. Forty percent of my monthly cable programming costs (not the bill, just the programming costs) go to sports channels. Yep, that relatively small collection of channels that I’ve never once in my life clicked on has cost me a small bundle over the years.
But the Olympics. The Olympics are not Sports (with a capital “S”). No, Sports are highly organized entertainment enterprises that shell out billions of dollars to their top entertainers in order to make my cable bill go up. I have no interest in Sports.
Oh, but the Olympics. I’m not saying that billions aren’t behind shelled out here too. But something about hundreds and hundreds of amateur athletes competing on such a personal and (for the most part) not-for-profit level, is what really defines true athletic competition in my book. I get far, far more enjoyment out of watching swimmers or runners or paddlers or peddlers than some bored guy standing in the sun for hours, spitting tobacco and occasionally adjusting himself.
This is going to be a great couple weeks. Let the games begin.