All righty! Here we go! Welcome to the Winter Olympics. It’s been a long four years. Well, technically two years if you treat the experience in all encompassing terms, but I’m looking at it from an individual, seasonal perspective, so then were back to four.
The Olympics don’t seem to carry the same luster they once did, when International relations were strained between…well, pretty much every country - you know, when professional wrestling shamelessly delivered terrifically politically incorrect stereotypes to our waiting eyes. But (for me, anyway) it’s still a draw, still a must-see. It’s the only time that downhill moguls, half-pipe snowboarding, and curling will be relevant to me, when I will set my DVR to ensure I don’t miss a moment of the action. It’s all about the medal count, baby. To mount the podium, especially to top the podium, is still an international status symbol – the big “nanny-nanny-boo-boo” to the rest of the world.
I don’t think we’ll ever have another “Do you believe in
miracles?” kind of moment, but every competition is an opportunity for us to
rally around our colors, and a reminder of how much we kick a*s. Living in