Dooo-doo-de-doo-doo-doo-doo Dum-dum-de-dum...

Like Krapsnart, I am just goofy about the Olympic Games. A few years ago, when NBC did that pay-per-view TripleCast thing, where you could watch the international feeds of various events on three channels? I ate it up with a spoon. It was very cool being able to watch events with no rah-rah USA commentary; I wish they'd do that again this year.

The first Olympics I remember were the Summer Games in 1972, where the terrorists held the Israeli team hostage and then killed them. Oddly enough, when I think of those games, I think of American swimmer Mark Spitz with his mustache and his seven gold medals. I think of Russian gymnast Olga Korbut with her grim, determined face and her pigtails. I think of the US men's basketball team. This is proof positive that I'm one of those people who tends to remember the good times.

I mean, when I am reminded of the Israeli team, I reflect and remember how shocking it was when I was six. I don't think I cried for them, but I might have. I was a strange, thoughtful child who actually watched the evening news. We always watched NBC with David Brinkley and John Chancellor.

To return to the point before I stray, the Olympics still manage to represent the glory of amateur sport. Not necessarily the glam events, but how much exposure does race walking get in a year? Pole vaulting? Modern pentathalon? Water polo?

I think it's cool that people make the effort to participate in obscure sports that won't ever return anything but the joy that comes with knowing you've done your best. The only time we ever hear about a lot of those sports is during the Olympics, so while you are watching to see if Marion Jones wins all her gold medals, take a minute to see out who wins the discus or the Greco-Roman wrestling.

before - after