If You’re Not Obsessed With The Olympics, You’re Wrong
I write to you today in the midst of greatness that is the 31st Summer Olympiad. 205 countries competing in 306 events over 19 days, all available to watch on 134 channels across 162 countries. What a time to be alive. What. A. Time.
Like any self-respecting member of the human race, for two weeks, the Olympics turn me into a devoted fan of everything and anything remotely athletic. I carbo-load for the grocery store and play the National Anthem when I remember to brush my teeth before I leave the house.
“Did you see Virginia Thrasher destroy the competition in women’s 10 meter air rifle this weekend?” I am asked during a Monday morning run-in at the water cooler (just go with it…I know “run-ins at the water cooler” don’t actually exist).
“Life-changing!” I reply while making a mental note to Google search what is 10 meter air pistol.
“And how about that absolutely beautiful gold-medal performance by the Russian synchronized swimmers?”
“Like trumpeter swans waltzing to Michael Bublé!” I proclaim, well aware that neither of us watched synchronized diving…uh I mean, swimming. I make another mental note to peruse the Olympic Instagram feed before my next meeting.
There are sadly not enough hours in the day for us to be the crazed Olympics fanatics we so desperately dream of being. But make no mistake, when we are able to tune in and get invested, boy do we get invested.
When Michael Phelps gets upset, I get upset. When Serena Williams misses a serve, I miss a serve. When Lilly King sassily finger wags at a Russian swimmer with a history of steroid use, I sassily finger wag at a Russian swimmer with a history of steroid use. Never mind that I’m over here on pizza slice number five and I haven’t even noticed the puddle of ranch dressing I’ve dripped onto my mesh garage-sale USA Dream Team jersey that cost me $3.99 and a rash. I’d wipe my grease-covered hands on my pants, but I’m not wearing any.
Yes, it’s a truly magical time. Once every four years when that Summer Olympics cauldron is set ablaze, every regular Joe and Jane can be an expert on 28 sports all at once. My pigeon toes couldn’t walk a straight line if it was all that separated me from Ryan Gosling holding a box of puppies, but you’d think my last name was Karolyi by how I nitpick any minuscule step taken by Simone Biles during her double-double beam dismount.
Thanks to NBC, there are more opportunities than ever for me to throw on my hypocritical coach cap and bask in Olympic glory. The network shelled out $1.2 billion for the right to air 6,755 hours of Rio coverage across a variety of outlets, including (but not limited to) television, internet, radio, slam poetry, interpretive dance, larping, and Morse code. For those of you trying to do the math in your head (sick freaks), that’s 282 days worth of footage. In the time it would take to watch every minute of Rio coverage, you could watch all 10 seasons of Friends — 57 times.
A projected 3.6 billion viewers tuned in to the 2012 London Games — a half-billion increase over Beijing in 2008. The average viewer consumed 7.5 hours over the two weeks — almost half of my personal daily average!
Say what you want about the absurd cost of broadcast rights and the egregious over-consumption of media in today’s society, but there’s something pretty amazing about an event that can captivate half of the global population. In a world that seems so filled with hate, it’s nice to know we can all bond over the shared experience of critiquing the globe’s top athletes while we lounge comfortably on our untoned butts and stuff our faces with potato chips…or baguettes…or falafel…or whatever the rest of the world eats. We can all commiserate together in the reality that, despite having triumphantly struggled through the one mile run in Elementary School PE, we are painfully unathletic compared to these exquisite specimens with glutes handcrafted by Athena herself.
If you simply can’t devote hours on end to race walking and slalom canoeing, find one event that entertains you and invest yourself. Get so into it that you find yourself tracking the Amazon Prime delivery status of your first fencing sword, rattling off Ryan Lochte’s favorite candy (Pez) or simply wondering how you ever lived 23 years of your life without being exposed to the glory that is team handball. Allow yourself to be inspired by these athletes. Use the games as an opportunity to learn about another culture, or just more about your fellow countrymen. Don’t just watch the Games — indulge in the Games, be the Games.
You get one chance every four years to actively participate in the largest congregation of the global community. Please — put on that ranch-stained rash-inducing mesh jersey, turn on NBC, and go nuts.
