Gold with Envy
Nate Lipka
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I haven't gotten too much sleep lately.
Frankly, I've been too busy patting the invisible rear end of my phantom beach volleyball partner, pretending to be an expert at proper form on the 10 meter high platform dive and repeatedly yelling "Stick the landing, bitch!" at the 14-year-old gymnasts on my television screen.
Yes, the Olympics have taken over my life.
The short-term effects? Well, my bleary-eyed stupor following late-night crew races has probably hampered my work output, and possibly jeopardized the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to share the road with me on the way here. And what other time am I personally invested in table-tennis, trampoline and speed-walking?
The commitment of all of the athletes has even inspired me to work out a little bit, for once (staring at barely-clothed Adonises for hours on end tends to have that effect).
But what long-term effect will these Games have on my life?
Most of America - and the world, really - will soon all but forget about the Olympics and move on to the daily grind. Diving will again only matter on soccer pitches and the stock market, speed walking reserved for the impatient and the tardy, and table-tennis will be played primarily by me and my drunken friends.
However, I can't help but think that the events of these Olympics will have a more far-reaching effect - but not in the way you might think. The inspiration I'll take from the athletes' dedication is great, yes. And I don't doubt the underlying message of peace these Games carry.
But what I'll really hold near and dear to my heart for quite a while is burning, unadulterated jealousy.
I want a goddamn medal around my neck! I want to hoist the red, white and blue and traipse around an arena of screaming fans! I want to be considered "the best in the world" at something! Hell, it doesn't even have to be a traditional Olympic event. I'd settle for a gold in paper stapling, or leaf raking or even blog writing.
I'm tired of hearing about Michael Phelps (Am I the only one who thinks the guy looks a little "slow"? It's Eli Manning Disorder, I tell ya) … it's time to hear about Nate Lipka, already.
Call me a party-pooper, selfish, ignorant, whatever … just call me an Olympic champion and I'll be happy!
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