Game for more

I love the Olympics. I'm not going to apologize for it.

It's not thanks to an overwhelming sense of national pride, an attribute that isn't exactly going to waver based on whether we end up sticking it to Becky Hammon. Nor is it indeed for any sense of host country getting the opportunity to showcase itself to the rest of the world, because ... well, where would you like to start with that one?

Yes, by Monday afternoon the family room TV may have a sandal-sized hole in it from a Bob Costas overload, not to mention countless hours of NBC's traditional self-celebratory mantras. By next Friday I'll try to decipher just why I'm watching weightlifting when I could be doing any number of more interesting things, including next year's taxes, finally fixing that blown circuit in the kitchen, or flossing. By the time the closing ceremonies are upon us, we will all have had enough Chinese propaganda dished upon us in one form or another that we'll wonder if that Mao really was such a bad guy after all.

We're but a few days from three-plus of the most boring hours in, I guess we consider it "sport," when the opening ceremonies kick off in Beijing, the controversial host of this year's Summer Games. Then the sports begin, and we can all either just sit back and enjoy, or continue our growing arguments as to why this pigskin, rawhide, and burning rubber-loving nation shouldn't care about them.

As Americans in an ESPN-owned society, there tends to be a prevalent knee-jerk reaction when the topic of the Olympics arises. "I'm not going to watch ... well, maybe the basketball and baseball ..." It's as if we're trained to announce that we're not interested in anything else the Games have to offer other than what a majority of Americans enjoy in the first place -- or at the very least what brings in the highest ratings on SportsCenter. Basically, I find it humorous when some talking head on the latest PTI lists the reasons I shouldn't care about the next two weeks in Beijing before tossing it to subsequent programming that features the majority of the hour on a tarmac in Green Bay, Wis. How can fencing be any worse?

None of us is naïve enough to think of the Olympics as the grand, old clean pinnacle of sport any longer, particularly after years of cheating, doping, and judging scandals. Still, if you had to ask me what my Top 3 favorite moments in sport have been since the dawn of spring, they might go something like this:

1. Celtics-Lakers, Game 4.
2. Jon Lester's no-hitter
3. Michael Phelps' world record in the 400 medley.

Each of them holds its own distinct aspect of what sport can truly corral, but all hold the common thread of never giving up in the face of deep adversity, which often defines most of our most cherished moments in athletics, and at the very core, is the reason why we watch in the first place. It's the competition that fuels us, and even more so when that involves the necessary means to dig even deeper in order to finish the job, when drive and determination need to equal out ability and athleticism.

The Phelps moment was one that I happened to come across while flipping channels one evening, besting Ryan Lochte in a close finish at the Olympic trials in which both swimmers set world records. Imagine, you just swam a world record and finish second. Talk about your kick in the pants. And yet, the race received scant mention nationwide, thanks to the lack of universal appeal within the 50 states. After all, what's in it for Americans? It's not like they'll get to sport a championship T-shirt celebrating the event's posterity.

But for two weeks -- two weeks, you can handle it, Bristol -- sports like swimming and athletes like Phelps get some measure of widespread attention. You can argue that the majority of Americans just don't care, and you're probably right. That's fine. I don't either. I still love the Olympics.

I can certainly do without the hours of human interest that NBC will see fit to shove down our throats along with enough gymnastics to make Kerri Strug pout. I'm not really into watching Matt Lauer through a daily haze, nor do I look forward to more of the complexities that have already begun to define these Games, even if their political and social ramifications do mix in an added measure that has been missing from any particular Olympics over the past two decades.

There are sponsorship dollars everywhere you look, sure, but for those fleeting moments when gold is at stake, there's nothing better. That may be cliché, but it beats a $160 million ballplayer quitting on his team just because he might have $40 million more coming to him. It certainly bests anything having to do with an egomaniacal quarterback.

The Olympics are a business, much like everything else, but they also tend to remind us why sport is great in the first place. That's not to disparage anything traditional to us as a country, but to celebrate everything else that doesn't receive widespread exposure. For next week you and your co-workers or friends may actually be sitting around watching water polo, and to your surprise, you enjoy it.

That's why I still dig the Games, our semi-annual reminder of just how large a landscape of various competitions the planet can boast, mixed in with a bit of mystery, intrigue, and ... well, let's not deny it, scantily-clad athletes.