The Olympics are over. Even though I didn’t watch them on a regular basis, I liked tuning in when I could. My favorite parts, other than watching that Jamaican guy with the cool polarized glasses and neon tracksuit posing for the audience after winning, were those moments when they would give gold medals to a male US winner. Why? Because that meant the national anthem would be played. And it was hilarious. Not the anthem but their reactions to their moment of glory.
Here are Herculean men who trained countless hours, endured physical and mental agony, and have proved themselves the best in the world. These very men reduced to lip biting, shifty eyes, and nervous gulping. It was so funny to have to watch these men control their emotions. A single tear could wipe out all their work. Imagine the pick-up lines these medals will provide for them. And imagine after being impressed at their Olympic prowess a light will go off and the women will say, “Hey, aren’t you the guy who cried on international television?”. Pussy potential gone in the blink of a teary eye.
Emotion control was so obvious that every time my family would see these closing ceremonies we’d begin to voice what they might be thinking.
“Must. Not. Cry. On. International television” I’d squeak.
“Look away. Shift gaze. Ok, now smile serenely”.
“Smile? That looked like an eye twitch. A muscle spasm”.
“Is that one having a seizure?”
“No, he just doesn’t know where to look”.
Heres looking forward to the next Olympics.
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