We’re about to be knee-deep in these any day now
I’ve always loved the Olympics. I used to watch them with my mom when I was a kid. I remember USA vs. Russia in hockey because I swear I’d never seen her jump out of her chair and cheer like that before. During the Olympics, even sports you normally don’t take much interest in become fascinating.
The other aspect of the games, ahem, is that it’s a chance to check out some nice-looking athletic men. You should have seen how agog my girlfriends and I were in high school when Greg Louganis was on the scene. We were glued to our respective televisions so we could gab about it the next day. Our lusty dreams, of course, were to be dashed later, but we were all about diving that year.
Then I had a big thing for Kurt Browning during the early ’90s. My co-worker was into Alberto Tomba (who I thought was way too into himself). She would diss Kurt, saying only sissies skated. I had to defend the guy. He was just too cute.
This year, though, I had a sobering Olympic moment. I was admiring the physiques of Ian Thorpe (although what’s up with the full-body suit) and Michael Phelps. Because how can you not? And then it struck me. I’m about 15 years older than the oldest of the two. Yikes! The newest generation of Olympians are not of MY generation anymore. Maybe my encounter from yesterday has affected me, but I think this proves that I, too, am getting old.