Like almost nobody I know, I am hugely into the Olympics. I think this is an either you-have-the-disease-or-you-don’t, a la the Academy Awards, and I’m a double-haver because I grew up watching both. (Thanks, Mom.) So every year, alone though I may be, I soldier through.
We all know that NBC’s Olympic broadcast is both shamelessly schmaltzy and shot through with commercials—not to mention delaying the highlights until midnight—so I’m going to blow past that and give men’s ice skating a big HELLS TO THE YEAH.
Though mostly I’m talking about the short programs, because the longs were…long. And a bit lackluster. And…Evan Lysacek? I mean: work ethic, degree of difficulty, Torino flu, comeback drama, check. But: artistry? Nee-yope. He seems royally freaked out when he skates, whereas Plushenko is, like, Lord of the Dance. I know the Olympic pressure is mind-boggling, and I would myself be a pool of ooze, but I want my gold medalist to own the ice.
Sigh.
And did they not totally rob Johnny Weir? (Heh, just mistyped that as Johnny Weird. He must get that all the time.) I love you and every last tassle, Johnny!
Also, I have this to say about snowboard cross: I am against it. When luck is so heavily a factor, is it really a sport? I say no to any event where your four-year Olympic dream can end in a matter of seconds. There has to be time, people. You have to get do-overs. One of the great things about the skating is that even after a fall, some skaters come back in soul-stirring ways, whereas if you get knocked out of the snowboard cross course, you are roasted-chicken-done.
Stupid snowboard cross.
Half-pipe, on the other hand, is wonderful for this reason: the shrug. Have you noticed that when they fall, which happens so often that not-falling is the exception, they inevitably end the run with a shrug? They’re like, “Oh, well! That didn’t quite go as planned! Brewski back at the lodge?”