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Vancouver 2010–A Rachel’s-eye View

February 15, 2010

It’s been interesting watching the Winter Olympics. Herein, a few thoughts:

Why does Bob Costas always have that damn gold pen in his right hand all the time? Everything he reads is on the teleprompter. So, Bobby, what is it? I suppose he has important notes & thoughts to contribute (gag) so that’s why he’s never without his beloved pen and his officious stack of papers–that’s his thing, how he works. Whatev. Mostly it makes me wants to take that pen and stab Mr. Smarmy in the eye.

In the past I would find myself moved to tears by the inspiring stories of the athletes’ trials and tribulations of their “Road to the Olympics!” Now? Meh. I mean, I DO understand that they’ve had difficulties: financial, emotional and physical, but hey, ya know, it’s a life choice. Their commitment is admirable and I salute them–if they weren’t all so dedicated, I couldn’t sit on my ass and watch hours and hours of great stuff that I will absolutely never even attempt. So it all works out. Mostly I realize that life is hard for all of us–in lots of different ways–so Abe Lincoln was right after all.

I still enjoy watching ice skating the most–the artistry and athleticism amaze me given that I can’t even stand on the ice without falling flat on my tush. I, like most chicks, love the dramatic costumes and all the sparkles. I even love the horrible blue eyeshadow of the Russian skaters, the jaded judges, and the inflated scores. Not so much Elfit Schlegal or the older dude–all I can say is thank GOD for Scott Hamilton’s intelligent and comprehensible coverage. Ice skating is an insular world I know very little about and will never enter and I’m okay with that. I can still applaud the skaters from my couch when they land their jumps and say “Oh, bummer!” when they fall flat on their tush. It all works out.

I even feel motivated to get off my couch for a little while–then lay down til the feeling passes.

I dig the snowboarders with their crazy pink hair, long hair, loud music, and tattoes. They rock. Yea! If my kids want to do that, more power to them. I love that these kids are so free-spirited and yet still amazing athletes. It’s like, totally awesome, dude. In fact, we (and by WE, I mean Anya, my ten-year-old daughter) have been motivated to use the Wii’s Olympic games module and it’s been really fun (watching)!

And oy–the ads! I like Morgan Freeman and all but dude–VISA, we GET. IT. Snow-capped mountains, pretty. Ice, we KNOW. Yea, yea, we’re there. Now move along voice of News and God. Let us get back to our regularly scheduled programming, would ya? Shoo.

But really most of all I’m amazed–truly, sincerely–at the hundredths of a second that can make the difference between silver and gold. That after all those years of training, all those practices, workouts, training sessions, even previous matchups, that it can come down to that one race and that tiny split second decision their bodies and minds will make in the heat of that single race. Awe-inspiring. I think this sense of awe is universal and something that makes the Olympics truly worth us wading through all the damn commercialism and Costas’ smarminess to finally get to…perhaps watching these amazing events unfold is ultimately our reward.

Well, that and watching all the hot bods. Whew.

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One Comment
  1. Bob Costas is a tool. Never got and still don't understand America's love affair with the wee broadcaster.

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