Dreams of Olympic glory quickly fading

My first introduction to the Olympic Games was a good one.

The year was 1980, and the event was the infamous “Miracle on Ice,” when Team USA upset the mighty Soviets en route to a gold medal in hockey. It was one of the greatest moments in the history of sports, so it’s not surprising I was hooked. I’ve been a fan of the Olympics ever since.

But the politics of the day meant there was no Summer Games for the United States that year, so my first experience with the Summer Olympics wasn’t until four years later when the Games came to Los Angeles. This time around, it was the Soviets and their Eastern Block opting to stay home, which resulted in a complete and total butt-kicking by the Americans. Of course, for a 12-year-old, there's nothing better than a complete and total butt-kicking, and my fandom of the Olympics became even more solidified.

It was around about that time that I decided I wanted to compete in the Olympics myself one day. After all, who wouldn’t dream of standing atop the medal podium, getting all teary-eyed, watching Old Glory rise above the flags of other nations as "The Star-Spangled Banner" played?

I was pretty sports-crazy in my younger days; but even then, I had a pretty strong suspicion that my best talents might not be in the athletic arena. So as I pondered my quest for Olympic gold, many of the traditional sports — competitions that involved such things as running or jumping — were immediately laid aside.

But lucky for me, the Summer Games were full of obscure and unusual events, and I reasoned that surely there must be a niche where I could excel. While the other kids were jockeying to show off their sprinting, swimming or long-distance running skills, I figured I would make my mark in a sport with a little less competition. But the problem was finding the right sport.

I thought about Archery. I’d tried it at Cub Scout camp, and I figured it couldn’t be too hard to pull back a string and let it rip. But it turned out my mom didn’t think too much of the idea of arrows flying around the backyard.

I thought about Rowing. But the only access to water I had was in a friend’s backyard pool. And I soon learned there was a big difference between paddling around on an inflatable raft and Olympic-level rowing.

I thought about Fencing. After all, I’d watched the “Star Wars” films, and acted out the lightsaber duels a couple hundred times with my friends. Fencing couldn’t be too different, could it? But Mom nixed this one, too.

I thought about the Modern Pentathlon. There probably weren’t more than three or four kids in the country my age who even knew what it was. Surely I could make the team in this one. But seeing as how the event includes disciplines such as pistol shooting and the aforementioned fencing, it never had a chance.

Everywhere I looked, no matter what sport I tried, I hit a brick wall. I lacked the horse to try Equestrian. I lacked the net to try Badminton. I lacked the interested friends to try Field Hockey. And the thought of weightlifting was simply laughable.

There was only one event in which I had the skill, equipment and parental permission to make it all the way; and that was Croquet. But unfortunately for me, Croquet was discontinued as an Olympic competition in 1900.

And that's why, at the dawn of the 29th Olympiad, it's become pretty obvious that my dreams of Olympic glory are never going to be fulfilled. My role in the Games is but to sit on my couch and watch and cheer. And even though I’m not the one on the medal stand, I still reserve the right to get a little teary-eyed when they raise Old Glory and play "The Star-Spangled Banner."

But then again, the Winter Olympics are just two years away. Do you think I could learn Curling by then?