I am not a sports person. I don't usually enjoy playing sports, and watching sports is usually last on my list of things to do. Except on one magical time of the year: the Olympics.
My Dad is a swimmer. He knows all the basics and enjoys the sport, so when Micheal Phelps came along four years ago, he was an immediate fan. I was still too young to care too much, and if Phelps didn't share my birthday (separated by a few years), I probably would have forgotten about him completely, six gold medals and all. But this year, I became a fan of swimming. From the first gold medal of Beijing, to the last relay, I watched Phelps with a quickly beating heart.
There were a couple of times Dad and I got really riled up: That relay with Lee Zak (don't know if I spelled that right) barely in front of Bernard, the hundred fly where everyone though Cavic had won, and of course, Phelps's eighth race.
As Dad and I drove to a place with cable last night, he told me that we just might witness history that wouldn't happen again for a long, long time; perhaps forever. And we did. Leezak finished strong for the U.S. team, Micheal Phelps got his EIGHTH gold medal for the Beijing Olympic, FOURTEENTH total Olympic medal, and SIXTEENTH Olympic medley, and the U.S. still hold the race, along with a world record. All that, accomplished in one race. Dad leapt up from his seat, I got up from my seat, and our smiles were almost as big as the team's smiles.
So that's me, a temporary sports fan. While I'm on an Olympic role, I should say that I also watched a track sprint last night, in which Jamaican Usain (spelling?) Lighting Bolt easily got the gold and a world record. I was a bit disappointed in him, because if he hadn't started celebrating half way through the race, he could have gotten an even better record.
I think that's all for now. I could mention my frustration with the Chinese government, but other people do that better (check my blog list).
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