As Olimpíadas

Despite the fact in the United States we might not give a hoot about the Olympics, we still have expectations. We have expectations to win big. Not just a few scattered events, as if we were Turkmenistan and we had a ringer weightlifter. We expect to win across the board. Let me put it in perspective. Brazilian Olympians won their first individual gold medals in 2008, They were greeted by camera crews and triumphant fans upon their arrival at Garulhos airport in São Paulo. I asked myself, “All this fanfare for winning one measly medal?” If Michael Phelps hadn’t won 8, we would’ve probably taken away his Passport and left him in Beijing.
Let’s face it. We’re a developed country and we have the luxury of lavishly financing a thriving squad. We have contenders in nearly every sport. Not only in the Summer Games, where any impoverished cretin can participate because of the lack of necessity for expensive equipment or training, but also in the winter games, or as I like to call them, the WASP games. (Let’s be honest, Cool Runnings gave us all plenty-o-laugh, but at the end of the day it was really a disguised critique of the evils of capitalism and international wealth distribution.)
It’s weird watching the Olympics in another country. First off it’s not a primetime spectacle like on NBC because that would interfere with the Brazilian soap opera schedule. Therefore the competitions are spread throughout the day in real time. Thus I’ve unfortunately missed all of the synchronized swimming battles which are broadcasted at an ungodly hour. The most popular events are Volleyball, Judo, and logically Soccer. But it certainly makes me homesick. Where is Bob Costa giving me the exclusive sweaty interviews directly from the finish line? Where are my morning medal leader updates given to me by Matt Lauer? And most importantly, Where are my promotional Dream-Team McDonald’s supersized cups?
Michael Phelps is a god here. He’s on the cover of all three of the major magazines, the equivalents of Time, Newsweek and for some reason Penthouse. I’ve been trying to convince people that we are related. That he’s a distant cousin from Baltimore. It’s been working well enough to get girls to talk to me, so I’m happy.
We’re in second place, and it’s not looking like we’re going to catch up. People here are a little frightened of China’s rise to power. Nobody likes the new kid of the block, even the Berenstain Bears can attest to that. (see The Berenstain Bears' New Neighbors in which Papa Bear’s overt racism against the new Panda Bears that move in across the street, divides a family to the limits.) Over the months leading up to the Olympics the media both in the US and Brazil had reiterated China’s pollution, corruption, bizarre cuisine, human rights abuses, and most shockingly of all; the scandal that General Tso was only but a mere lieutenant. You’ve gotta hand it to China though for keeping that 7-year old snaggletoothed gargoyle away from the cameras. I shudder at the thought of her patriotically singing in HD.
So maybe the Olympics are only a bunch of games, but at the same time they represent so much more than the medals. I was certainly relieved to see the US Basketball team trounce Yao Ming and his Chinese cohorts, for some reason it gave me a little bit of reassurance in the American economy. And you better believe Brazilians were indignant to see Argentina pummel Ronaldinho Gaucho and the rest of the Brazilian Soccer squad, despite Brazil’s talent on the pitch. The games are an inspiring time when every four years the world can come together to individually flaunt their geopolitical and economic dominance symbolically through sport.