London Ninja

I have been watching the Olympics since feeling the excitement in America. We didn’t really feel the excitement in Taiwan during my childhood because all of the excitement was around whether Taiwan should declare independence from China for calling Taiwan “Chinese Taipei”. What is that? That’s like calling America “British USA”.

Every four years I am accustomed to sitting around the dinner table and watching well edited slow-motion panning John Woo shots of Olympics atheletes, their mums, their uncles, and their sick grandmothers in the hospitals speaking about the only dream they have ever had since being diagnosed with gonadian cancer. The thought of the agony of removing the cancer-laden testicles from such a bright star would inevitably bring tears to my eye (as is yours currently, I hope). It is great television from 8pm to 10pm every night. A great story told by Bob Costas.

This year, however, things are not the same. Instead of hearing about the Hamm brothers overcoming down syndrome to get gold in Olympic gymnastics, I am hearing about how excited the British are about getting Bronze in the Pommel Horse. Whoopty doo. First of all, the pommel horse is like the least exciting sport in gymnastics. And even if it’s exciting, I have not seen any sick uncles, hospital shots, or bawling scenes from the guy’s sick sick African half-sister. WTF.

We do get some mention of Phelps….thank God. Yes, very grateful that the Brits would mention the best Olympian ever. Thanks, BBC. I owe you one.