Blame it on Rio or NBC?

After close to a week, I am still recovering from an Olympic hangover.

Since 1980, I’ve followed the Olympics, Summer and Winter, with patriotic fervor and genuine interest with war being settled on a mat, track, in a pool, or on some ice.   Sports, using that term loosely, I would never commonly pay attention to are witnessed with terrific zeal.  A miracle on ice, perfect ten from Mary Lou, and even a bobsled from Jamaica are amongst many of my fond memories.

This year, I was disappointed, mostly due to NBC’s dreadful coverage.  Even one of my closest friends stated with hyperbole, that he wanted to kill Bob Costas.  “We’ll be right back with the two hundred mile swim medley featuring Michael Phelps” meant nothing to him nor me.  Three hours later, we were falling asleep to commercials and snooze worthy stories.

Mind you, I paid attention to the games every night, but found something to complain about either because I compare them to prior Olympic years, or I am getting older and more cantankerous with every hair I lose.  Talking to others, I received similar feelings, yet, I must begin with the positive.  Both Simones, competing in gymnastics and swimming will be something to behold forever.  A girl with the last name of Ledeky must have been swimming using PET’s. (Performance enhancing toes……….they must be webbed.)  And, unless a man with the last name of Bolt and Caitlin Jenner have children, I don’t see a faster person entering our world for a long time.

This brings us to Michael Phelps.  As magnificent as he is, I simply grew tired of him. Perhaps, I’m just soggy because of the endless amount of events earning him the opportunity to surround his neck with a billion medals.  He is the Mr. T of medalists.

After some collective research, many Americans asked why beach volleyball should be on prime time T.V..  I couldn’t definitely answer that.  However,  I do know this: Females wearing thongs are something I will remember in most of the events including diving, gymnastics, and synchronized swimming.  My wife didn’t have to ask why I was watching these events instead of Major League Baseball.  She would just look at me, and say, “Really?”  I told her I was intrigued with  green water and the pommel horse, which doesn’t even exist in women’s gymnastics.  She bought that about as quickly as anyone bought, and now have sold, Ryan Lochte and his story.

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