I am not a sports fan. Not football, not basketball, and maybe only a little bit baseball. I have sat through kids’ soccer games until I wanted to scream, and a few baseball games—no football for my grandsons, thank goodness.
Naturally it follows that the Olympics don’t mean much to me, except that regular TV programming is disrupted. This morning Meet the Press was on during what should have been local news, and at the usual Meet the Press time we were back in Rio. Out of habit more than anything else, I kept the TV on but muted.
Swimming competition didn’t mean much to me—you can barely see bodies slicing through the water. If it was diving, I’d be more interested; nor was I intrigues by volleyball. But the bike race got me. I’d look up to see a lone biker on a twisting narrow road, and I was never sure if he was the leader or not—but often there was a motorcycle escort. And the biker would take whichever lane he wanted (are there no women in this race?), probably according to the way the road banked. I gather they had the road blocked. The scenery was gorgeous, but I began to wonder about the temperature in Rio.
Other times there would be a pack of riders, so close together that I wondered how they avoided crashing into each other. And frequently there would be cars close on their heels. I was fascinated yet nervous watching them. But I saw no wrecks.
I heard about the terrible wreck when a French pole vaulter broke his leg on landing, but a clip of him in the hospital tonight showed him cheerful and looking proud of his cast. Less deserving of our sympathy is the Russian Paralympics team which was banned today for doping.
What? Two more weeks to go? I’ll raise more interest when the gymnastics come on. But we’re all proud of the young shooter who brought home America’s first Gold Medal. And, even non-sports fans like me, are proud of the entire American delegation, and particularly Michael Phelps.
Meanwhile on the home front, we’re still celebrating Christian’s birthday—three days and counting so far. Tonight his parents came for a birthday dinner. Jordan experimented with a recipe for taco lasagna—I didn’t try it because I’m avoiding spicy food but it smelled divine. At my urging she roasted corn in the oven—something else I was hesitant to eat. But it works well—you pull the husks back and use them as a handle to eat the corn. Fruit salad, and that was the meal. Plus, of course, cake for the birthday boy. A pleasant evening.
So now another week begins. I hope for each of you it’s not too busy, with lots of time to relax, stay out of the gosh-awful heat, and enjoy the waning days of summer.