With the olympics just getting into full swing, it feels as if everything I’ve watched hasn’t been for medals but to qualify for the chance to win a medal. Well, that wasn’t the case last night. Last night American viewers actually got a taste of gold for the first time, assuming that no one watched Virginia Thrasher shoot an air-soft gun 10 meters to take gold. This mens relay squad was apparently one of the strongest squads in recent years, composed of “insert name here,” Michael Phelps, “insert name here”, and “insert name here.” Alright, you caught me, I had no idea who was on the relay team, minus Phelps, until I heard the announcers shouting their names out of the TV last night. But does it matter if i didn’t know three out of the four swimmers? No, I knew Phelps and he was the man of the hour, snatching the lead from the frenchmen, and eventually the gold and title of relay champions; reclaiming what was rightfully ours. Phelps hit that wall and when he made his turn I was convinced he was jut going to finish the race underwater. He could’ve done the 50 meters underwater if he wanted to, but that would’ve put him at risk of blowing his cover of being a human. This race reminded me why I love the olympics, and it’s not just watching America dominate. I love the blind nationalism I feel, yelling at and rooting for athletes on our team that I’ve never heard of before, disliking anyone that isn’t wearing our colors with our flag, feeling a sense of pride for something I didn’t actually accomplish, and acting like we’re better than all the rest when no one could tell you an athlete from another team in any sport; it’s like were all in one big fraternity for a few weeks. And Phelps is our president. This race got me hooked back in and now I’m just passing the time until all these preliminary and qualifying matches are over and we can start watching America really rake in the gold.
Don’t forget to rush Upsilon Sigma Alpha this fall.