Peaking in Milan

Is there a medal for feeling blue that the Olympics are over? I could win that. I miss them because I didn’t miss them. As a Games junkie, I only stop bingeing when they’re out of seasons.

We have to make up our own events to compensate for the sudden lack of ones to watch. Start with a competition about which was the best. Let’s argue for gold. I’d answer the one I already consumed before the Opening Ceremony, namely hockey. It’s a cheat of an answer like I’m a Canadian curler. But tuning back to the NHL after their holiday will help deal with the sudden absence of incessant Scandinavian athletic rituals.

I still believe in miracles. Freebird is not about a goose. America winning a third hockey gold after a dozen presidential elections since the second was a perfect ending to a satisfying frozen derby. The Hughes trick is when a player scores a gold medal-clinching goal after losing two teeth.

The Olympics are a chance to celebrate cultural differences, specifically by watching sports we don’t normally like on account of how they seem like tests for mental instability. This will not be the post-Olympic frenzy moment where America holds a Ski Jump Super Bowl despite how much fans of the daring event think this is finally their chance. Such events feature crowds that are electric for reasons beyond being thrilled to take my dream vacation. Attendees are genuine cross-country skiing enthusiasts.

Television viewers react differently. The Winter Games feels like an estate sale where shoppers peruse politely while choosing not to buy. It’s not that any of these slippery sports are easy. But something can be challenging without inspiring fandom. Skeleton awards points for insanity.

This has been an extra fun two weeks for those who enjoy watching others vanquish others. Each even year offers a brief streaming sports marathon where you put on whatever and check in. Visitors can try something different for a few weeks like a trip abroad where you eat something that you might think was ready to be thrown out at home.

Wondering what we do now is the byproduct of reaching the end of nonstop tournament play. How did we fill time before the Olympics? There are other sports, I guess. They could be fun even without involving a chance to taunt Brad Marchand.

Some announcers were in top form like those they describe. Give Mike Tirico a gold medal. He sums up what people feel in the simplest description of his job, which consists of doing the same. Kenny Albert is just the person to have narrated the most recent American hockey title. And Tara Lapinski and Johnny Weir should call every sport. I don’t care if they’ve seen it before.

There only so many sports to make up for playing on ice or snow. The frozen version offers relatively few opportunities for medals. And even some relays seem forced like swimming strokes at different distances. Skiers compete in a relay without handing off a baton.

A four-year wait for events measured in thousandths of seconds sounds like a poetic disparity. Someone should write about that. Impatient me foolishly thought waiting a year to see if the Bills can create another close chance to crush my dreams took too long.

If you miss the race for points, think of how athletes feel. There’s not only that whole thing where they must exert to their utmost: Olympians have to worry they might have a bad day on the one where they happen to be competing. That’s even aside from a Jean-Paul alarm clock nightmare. The only thing worse than food poisoning on a normal day is when suspicious oysters wreak havoc on the cusp of needing to exert on virtually superhuman levels in order to top other universe-class entrants. Rarity makes it special. That offers little comfort before wanting to puke out one’s guts even before running the fastest.

Going years between ceremonies offers a glimpse of a mysterious sporting world. The Nordic contests are reminiscent of the Indy 500 where it seems like attending an open house for an exotic competition usually held in faraway lands. I’m sure bobsledders will race before 2028.

At least the wait’s not eternal like it was all those decades ago. Staggered seasonal Olympics was a gold medal idea. This way is way better than the old system which had both versions held the same year, which was like having a December birthday. Still, we could have even more. I’m hoping for the Spring and Fall Games. Lawn mowing and raking could fill time next year then after the competitions are done in Los Angeles.

A dozen is a good quantity for doughnuts, eggs, and golds. Episode Number XXV was number one in golden terms for America even if they keep adding events.

Increasing the vying only barely increases the percentage of humans who are Olympians. And a similarly teeny sliver of those walk away wearing medals of precious metals. Those who gave it a shot at either biathlon or something else will always be able to say they competed just like those who adore sport will eternally treasure an event with as few screwups as possible. Like with anything else, missing the Olympics is a sign of having a terrific time.