I wanted to be Mary Lou Retton.As a youngster, I was a gymnast and when Mary Lou made history in the 1984 Games by being the first American woman to win a gold medal in gymnastics, I was sure that I too could make Olympic history.
“Mom, how old do you have to be to get into the Olympics?”
“15, I think”, she replied.
“Ok, so I will be in the 1992 Olympics then.”
I made my mom buy Wheaties because Mary Lou’s picture was on the box. I hated Wheaties. They weren’t sweet like Frosted Flakes but I choked them down because if I wanted to be like Mary Lou Retton, I had to eat my Wheaties. I was secretly happy when they took her off the box because I didn’t have to eat them anymore. I made my mom buy enough boxes of the bland cereal so I could mail in the required number of UPC labels to get an autographed 8x10 poster of my Olympic hero.
I’ve always been a fan of the Olympic Games. This year, my excitement for Beijing was slow to get started. Abi, my youngest sister, is the Olympic Wikipedia. She started spittin’ out stories and stats of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh which propelled my interest in Beach Volleyball. Of course, who hasn’t heard about Michael Phelps and his magical accomplishments? A little too good to be true, the pessimist in me made the Debbie Downer comment that I hope we don’t find out in a couple of months that he was on performance enhancing drugs… wah,wah,wah.
By now, I have watched a little bit of many different events. Track and Field, Rowing, Badminton, Marathon, Diving, Cycling, Equine Jumping, among other normal Olympic Summer Games.
“Mom, how old do you have to be to get into the Olympics?”
“15, I think”, she replied.
“Ok, so I will be in the 1992 Olympics then.”
I made my mom buy Wheaties because Mary Lou’s picture was on the box. I hated Wheaties. They weren’t sweet like Frosted Flakes but I choked them down because if I wanted to be like Mary Lou Retton, I had to eat my Wheaties. I was secretly happy when they took her off the box because I didn’t have to eat them anymore. I made my mom buy enough boxes of the bland cereal so I could mail in the required number of UPC labels to get an autographed 8x10 poster of my Olympic hero.
I’ve always been a fan of the Olympic Games. This year, my excitement for Beijing was slow to get started. Abi, my youngest sister, is the Olympic Wikipedia. She started spittin’ out stories and stats of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh which propelled my interest in Beach Volleyball. Of course, who hasn’t heard about Michael Phelps and his magical accomplishments? A little too good to be true, the pessimist in me made the Debbie Downer comment that I hope we don’t find out in a couple of months that he was on performance enhancing drugs… wah,wah,wah.
By now, I have watched a little bit of many different events. Track and Field, Rowing, Badminton, Marathon, Diving, Cycling, Equine Jumping, among other normal Olympic Summer Games.
One event that I had never seen before was Fencing. The United States won the Silver medal in Men’s Fencing Team Sabre. I’m not the Wikipedia on Olympic events so I don’t have all the facts but from what I saw, it’s high tech medieval style sword fighting. The competitors wear armor looking outfits that have electronic sensors in them that register the “hits”. I don’t understand the scoring system and I didn’t do the research to figure it out but I think I’ve found a new goal for my life. 
London, save me a spot. Wheaties, will you put a “Fencer” on the box? Forget gymnastics, I want to be on the United States Fencing Team in 2012.
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1 comment:
I say screw "Fencing"... what about "Trampoline" ... i think i could still be an olympic competitor in that sport. I practiced a lot whe i was about 16. hahahahaha ... don't hate.
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