As I watch the Torino Olympics, it occurs to me how close I might have come to winning a medal (or four). If only I were about 35 years younger, and had some natural talent (plus the time and money to develop it), I might very well be on the medal stand listening to some other countryís anthem. (I would never assume Iíd win gold. Thatís just not me.)
In the case of the Winter Games, it would have helped to have been born in the upper Midwest, or in Canada (or Liechtenstein, for that matter). But it could have been me, instead of Bode. (For that matter, it could have been Bode, instead of Kjetil or Antoine.) I could be the one doing those corked 720s and crossovers and telemark landings. I could be doing jumps and spins and turns and tucks. And twizzles.
And then Bob Costas would interview me.
But no, I had to be a fat, lazy old guy from a place with no snow and not a lot of ice. Thatís all thatís holding me back, but I guess Iíll never win that medal. Iíll just have to live my dream through Bode and Tanith and Ben and Shani and Apolo. Not to mention Kjetil and Janica and Evgeni. And Duff. It could have been me, but it isnít.