Please, give us a break! I’m so, so over turning on the Olympics or looking at the covers of newspapers to see this man. He hasn’t even returned from Beijing yet, and he’s already played out most of his popular welcome. Why does the media unfailingly drown us in someone’s newfound popularity? Ten weeks ago I had never heard of Michael Phelps and my life was perfectly fine.
Amazingly, I just read a story in the Times about questions over a Chinese unknown winning a women’s swimming race in record time. There are accusations of doping from the Australians. (To be fair, I never met an Aussie in China who didn’t loathe the Chinese, and the accusation came from the woman’s mother. Um, sour grapes anyone?)
But Phelps wins a zillion of the things and no one says a peep about drugs?
In the accusations flying that China allows doping, people seem to have all-but forgotten that Marion Jones is currently watching the Olympics from JAIL. It’s not like the U.S. doesn’t dope.
I’ve been having conversations with friends and acquaintances all week, ruminating over the same question: “Who doesn’t drug?” It’s like we’ve all tacitly agreed to accept the fact of “extra help” because we know it’s not going anywhere. It’s like the kids who cheat on the SATs or have someone else write their college entrance exams. We all know that people do it, we just hope it’s not anyone we know.
Maybe if we weren’t so obsessed with winning at all costs, as a species, then this wouldn’t be such an issue. I read a great article in Vanity Fair (yes, I read fashion rags), all about doping. What struck me was one woman’s assertion that she didn’t want to drug, but it didn’t take her long to realize that she had to in order to compete with the people who did – and do.
Anyway, if I see one more of these pictures, I’m going to hurl. I thought “nice guys” were supposed to finish last, no?
I must be Chinese at heart, because I’m not that impressed either. It’s only swimming, people. He didn’t cure cancer. Or help children. Thus far, he’s spent most of his life inside a pool. Like a goldfish.
God help me to understand those obsessed by sports. I just don’t get it. But, then again, maybe I’m just bitter because I can’t swim at all (true), and I was always picked last for my 8th grade sports teams (mostly true). Maybe those of us who were never “athletic” can’t ever understand the inner workings of those that are.
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