Sports, sports and possibly, more sports

I am completely obsessed with the Olympics. I’m on this kind of overdrive where I can’t miss a minute of the swimming or the gymnastics. It’s crazy and I love it. But there is one (one?) unfortunate side effect of this obsession—I’ve been reading a lot less. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still slogging through at least 50 pages a day (accumulated over more than one book). But my torrid pace has slowed to a trickle. And this blog has become about my fascination with Michael Phelps. For that, I am sorry and I offer a brief respite from those who have a more literary persuasion.

One of the things I’m reading at the moment (nearly finished) is the manuscript of ones the books that will be published by the press I work for. The book is about sports injuries in minors and then lengths we go to make our kids the best athletes in the world. (well, not me, considering I have no kids, but you knew what I meant) It’s part cultural deconstruction and part memoir, infused with the kind of perspective you can only get by going through the things you want to write about.

When I first got into writing, I desperately wanted to be a sportswriter and so this book speaks to me in a lot of ways. I also was a three sport varsity athlete my senior year of high school (which totally weird because I’m not at all athletic but I went to a school that required us to play three sports a year and it kind of stuck). So I know a little bit about the drive and fire of wanting to be the best, wanting to succeed. I know what Michael Phelps’s couch is talking about when he describes practices but I went through a similar thing (though much scaled down) when I was on the swim team.

I hope this book gets a lot of attention when it comes out. It’s fabulously written, well reported and it hits a critical issue that is too much ignored in our search for guts and glory.

 

Pure Victory

Courtesy of the New York Times…

 

…and then I remember why I’m occasionally proud to be American.

I used to be a swimmer. I wasn’t very good. I have nice form and all but I’m not very fast. But it’s an amazing sport. If you’ve never felt the exhilaration of coming off a really good race and realize that half the wetness on you is sweat mixed with the water of the pool than you’re seriously missing something. Or maybe not. I guess that may be a swimmer’s thing.

Anyway, watching the US pull off an upset yesterday over the cocky French freestyle relay team was unbelievable, even more so because Michael Phelps swam first and thus wasn’t the hero of the day. (Though he did get his gold and another day with a chance of kicking Mark Spitz’s record to the curb). The hero of the day was Jason Lezak who swam a race I couldn’t even believe, coming from at least half a body length behind from about 50 meters. He rocked that last 25 meters like his life depended on it. There’s a point in swimming where you lay it all on the line, throw it all in the pool and just pray that what you’ve got will be more than enough to beat the overly favored guy swimming next to you. It was almost pathetic to see the French team after the race won, adrift in disbelief while Michael Phelps ran around screaming like an insane lunatic. It was like the world had become unmoored in the space of twenty seconds.

These times, these little accomplishments, are when I’m proud to be an American. I’m not what one would call patriotic. I scoff when President Bush gives interviews with Bob Costas during Olympics coverage (Where in the world is your mind dude? America’s NOT in trouble?). I swear that I want to marry a Brit so that I can go live in that country and not have to deal with feeling like I don’t really like the country I live in. I don’t know. But when I watch an American team cruise to the finish line in that final burst of glory I want to leap with joy and scream at the top of my lungs. Because we are all American. And these are the times we can shine.

 

Totally awesome

Books are taking a back seat for a week or two as I immerse myself in the wonderful world of the Olympics. I’m a shameless lover of the Olympics. Gymnastics and swimming for the most part. I don’t care if Michael Phelps is part fish, he’s the most amazing swimmer I’ve ever seen. He’s beyond describing in his total awesomeness. I used to swim competitively so I have some idea of the nature of these things. He blows them all away. He’s like part swimmer and part zen master. After I read this article I became absolutely convinced that he is the coolest person I have ever read about. I mean the guy f-ing breaks down lactic acid while he is swimming at his all out. He’s beyond belief. 

And I’m a total sucker for gymnastics. These people defy physics and make it look easy. How they even manage to hold onto the bar for a few seconds much less let go and re-grip and not pull their arms out of their sockets blows my mind. It’s not even real. They’re awesome. I’m hooked.