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