Robservations: Olympic fever — cure it!
I don’t know about you, gentle reader, but over at your friendly neighborhood sports editor’s stately abode for the past several nights, we’ve been tuned in religiously to coverage of the Athens games.
And frankly, it’s getting a little old.
Granted, I’m psyched when America brings home the gold, especially when one of our athletes has beaten considerable odds to reach the pinnacle of his or her sport.
But let’s face it. When it’s not an American, I could care less who wins. I’ll bet you feel the same way.
So I’ve got some suggestions, sports fans, on how the world could improve the Olympic games, to make them (1) more exciting to the viewers, and (2) easier for the good old red, white and blue to come away with even more gold.
• First, the Games should be held in America, every single time they’re played.
I know this is nationalist, and the Olympics are supposed to be about all nations coming together in the spirit of peaceful competition. But I have an AP sports wire in front of me all day, and when somebody wins, I usually see it. That ruins the surprise when I go home at night and see the reruns of events played much earlier in the day.
• No more pro athletes in basketball.
The days of legendary NBA stars heading over to represent their country are over, gang. Now we have legends in their own mind, covering their tattoos and going across the water to represent themselves and their own best interests — or should I say, “intere$t$.”
And they’re representing those interests in a rather mediocre fashion, I might add. Sure, they may come away with gold. But it’ll take rebounding from a loss to one of our territories, as well as a nation that didn’t even exist when Jordan, Magic, Barkley and Bird showed what a “Dream Team” really looked like.
• New sports must be added. If they can add women’s wrestling and synchronized diving, they can pony up the dough for a few more medals, and let some real American “athletes” take part.
Suggestions? You know I’ve got them.
How about softball? Not that collegiate fast-pitch stuff the U.S. women were so good at. I’m talking about “weekend” ball.
Put together a group of 15 or so from the “Jackers,” “Hog Killers,” and “Smashmouth,” and send them up against the best the rest of the world has to offer. Give me guys with beer guts, $300 bats, and 40-hour a week jobs. I want inning-ending homers, losers’ bracket streaks of seven straight games in a day, and one old guy in jeans, playing right field, that nobody in the world can get out.
While we’re at it, what about some wrestling? Not Greco-Roman, not Freestyle. I’m talking Pro-style grappling, like you see on Monday nights.
The way I figure it, nobody except the Japanese could even hold a candle to the USA. Think about it: Even when a pro wrestler claims he’s from Iraq, Russia or somewhere else overseas, chances are he’s really from Knoxville or New Jersey. We’d dominate.
And finally, a suggestion from Randle, who stole it from some comedian he can’t remember: Bull riding.
To quote the unnamed comic, “Not bull-fighting, son. Bull riding. Put that cape away, Pablo. We’ve got clowns that can dodge ’em.”