I

’m back, facade up and ready to 
soundtrack once again.

The 
Winter 
Olympics 
— 

the only time America is actually 
invested in sports like ski slalom 
and shuffleboard on ice. In an effort 
to declare our country the global 
champions 
of 
snow, 
millions 
of 

Americans gather around the TV for 
the month of February in their homes, 
libraries or respective newsrooms to 
witness heartbreaks and triumphs. 
We laugh, we cry, we stare in awe 
but most importantly, we recognize 
our own athletic limitations, because 
I don’t know about you but I could 
never perform remotely close to the 
athletes who complete triple axel 
double-sided backflips while juggling 
chainsaws in the Winter Olympics.

My career with sports has not been 

the most decorated. In third grade, 
my baseball team won our league 
championship. With my trophy in 
hand, I ran home and celebrated 
the victorious season. Eventually, I 
memorialized that season by making 
my first email address username, 
“baseballchamp7.” At our final team 
party, my coach posted our batting 
averages and I ran to see how much 
I had accomplished. Babe Ruth’s 
record, here I come.

.000
I didn’t hit a single ball. I was walked 

a few times but my championship 
victory had clouded my actual stats, 
convincing me I was the true baseball 
champ. From there, everything went 
downhill for sports, as I favored the 
summer musical over joining a soccer 
team with my friends.

What I don’t understand about the 

Winter Olympics is how I, a 20-year-
old child, am missing my Kobe free 
throws into trash cans while THESE 
14-YEAR-OLDS 
ARE 
WINNING 

GOLD???

Fountain 
of 
Youth 
— 
Local 

Natives

At the age of some of these Olympic 

stars, I couldn’t hammer a nail into a 
set piece without taking a breather. I 
couldn’t run a mile if my life depended 
on it, yet these athletic icons can 
complete front flips and side twists 
and whatever else they do while 
strapped to a literal piece of wood 
going a million miles an hour down 
a halfpipe. Some of these Olympians 
are just now going through puberty. 
Can you imagine being broadcast 
on global TV after winning a gold 
medal, only to voice crack during the 
interview?

Sometimes I like to imagine what 

the Olympics would be like if — 
instead of this whole “training for 

your entire life and qualifying for a 
spot on the national team” thing — 
we randomly selected representatives 
from each country to participate in 
the winter events like the “Hunger 
Games” lottery. Possibly no athletic 
experience, but you just have to try 
your best and hope the judges respect 
your valiant effort.

I’m 99 percent sure if my name was 

called to represent the United States 
in some wild event like the ski jump, 
once everyone saw my build and 
lack of athletic potential practically 
written on my face, everyone in the 
country would throw in the towel and 
accept defeat.

Represent — Nas
Think about the ski jump for a 

minute — participants are strapped 
into long poles that make them 
look like scuba divers walking with 
flippers, positioned at the top of a 
steep hill, pushed down, launched 
into the sky at 60 miles per hour and 
expected to land on the skis and be 
perfectly fine.

How people survive this jump, I 

have no clue. I’ve tried standing up 
on a sled and have eaten the ground 
on every attempt after .5 seconds of 
motion. Just looking at me, everyone 
would know I was going to fail. I 
would be shaking in my boots just 
looking at the jump. If I can’t watch 
the event on TV without flipping 
out and staring slack-jawed, what 
makes you think I would be a solid 
representative for the U.S. at the 
Winter Olympics?

This is why I like the random lottery 

idea for the Olympics — everyone is 
an underdog.

Comeback Kid (That’s My Dog) — 

Brett Dennen

I love rooting for the underdog: 

Cool Runnings, The Karate Kid, Erin 
Brockovich. All of ‘em.

In this imaginary Winter Olympics, 

I would be the ultimate underdog — 
Air Bud.

No one expects Air Bud to be good at 

every sport known to man (or dog), yet 
he always comes out on top. Against 
all odds, a dog can beat a human in 
basketball, soccer, volleyball and all 
of the other franchise installments. 
I’m pretty sure the Olympics viewers 
would have more faith in a golden 
retriever on skis than they would 
have for me. Even I would trust Air 
Bud to come home with the gold.

With my skis, helmet and lack of 

confidence, I’d somehow maneuver 
my way to the top of the ramp despite 
only having skied twice in my life. 
Skiing lessons at Pine Knob when I 
was 10 would not have prepared me 

for this event. Despite there being 
no way to confuse the initial starting 
point, I know I would look like a 
cartoon and eventually find myself 
facing backward away from the ramp.

Movin Backwards — A Tribe 

Called Quest

My Olympic debut would look like 

a Charlie Chaplin routine but there 
would be absolutely nothing funny 
about it to me. I would be terrified. 
Cameras would flash as announcers 
and spectators would question my 
decision to launch off backward. Some 
would say, “He’s gotta be insane,” but 
others would be more optimistic with 
thoughts like, “Let’s hope his tactic 
works out.”

Just then, I’d hear the countdown 

but we all know I’d accidentally start 
heading down the hill too early, 
waving my arms frantically, calling 
for them to stop the ride so I can get 
off. However, this ride has no red 
button to stop.

I’d gain speed despite constant 

shifts of balance. My knees would be 
absolutely locked out of straight fear. 
As I hit the final lip, with everyone 
expecting me to break my legs, I’d see 
the crowd shield their eyes.

Never a good sign.
Closing my eyes, I’d feel nothing 

below my skis anymore. My only 
savior — the ground — would be far 
gone.

Off The Ground — Anderson Paak
In the wise words of Vanessa 

Hudgens and Drew Seeley (this is the 
hill I want to die on): “We’re soarin, 
flyin.”

I think me and everyone else 

watching at home would just be 
surprised I made it this far. Maybe I 
was the true ski jump champion we all 
needed. I’d set records, innovate the 
sport and retire early to make more 
time for Sports Illustrated interviews 
and writing my memoirs.

But this isn’t how this daydream is 

destined to end. I think too lowly of 
myself to have it end triumphantly 
even though it’s my own dream and I 
can do whatever I want.

The moment one of my skis touched 

the ground, and I mean one and not 
both, the pressure would be too much. 
The weight of high-profile celebrity 
status coupled with my inadequate 
physical condition would cause my 
legs to buckle and my body to hit the 
tightly-packed landing, not making 
for a soft descent into a blanket of 
snow.

Shake, Rattle and Roll — Sam 

Cooke

Have you ever seen an actual 

person start rolling down a mountain 
so quickly they form into a large 
snowball, constantly picking up more 
and more mass as gravity does the 
rest? Well, I like to think I’d be the 
first to accomplish this during such a 
widely-broadcasted event.

It says a lot about my upbringing 

that I dream in cartoon tropes but 
this is what I would suspect would 
happen. Any dreams of me being Air 
Bud would immediately be crushed 
and I would become a gigantic ball of 
disappointment barreling toward the 
finish line. A safety hazard, yes, but 
also a beautiful sight to see. I’d be the 
best bottom third of a snowman the 
world had ever seen. Forget ski jump, 
that’s my new Olympic event.

Dazed 
and 
Confused 
— 
Led 

Zeppelin

Hitting the bottom, birds would 

travel around my head like planets in 
orbit and I would probably forget my 
own name. The interview after would 
hopefully make it on the Daily Mail 
Snapchat story.

I guess I’m just going to stick with 

staring in awe at the next Olympics 
and 
heading 
to 
the 
Intramural 

Building when I can’t think of 
literally anything else to do with my 
time.

Wednesday, March 7, 2018// The Statement 
7B

Soundtracking: The Winter Olympics

BY MATT HARMON, DAILY NEWS EDITOR

ILLUSTRATION BY BETSY STUBBS

