Here's to a level playing
field
After reading last week's column, some
of you might think I'm cynical about the Olympics. But you'd
be wrong.
Even I was amazed how the U.S. women's
softball team came back from three losses to win the gold. Even
I cracked a smile when I watched German runner Nils Schumann,
arms ablaze with tattoos, finish first in the 800-meter race.
And yes, even I laughed when I saw Eric Moussambani from Equatorial
Guinea swim the 100-meter freestyle. Once I sobered up and figured
out I wasn't hallucinating.
The efforts of Moussambani and others
like him are what the Olympic games are all about: Competing
in a sport you can't possibly win just to get your mug on CNN.
So far, the biggest thrill of the Olympics
was watching Australian superstar Cathy Freeman race to gold
in the 400 meters. Who could resist that aboriginal uprising?
Not black-hearted me. I do have one word of advice for Our Cathy,
though: If you're going to coke-up before the race, don't lick
your teeth afterwards. It's a dead giveaway.
Just kidding. I'm sure she's as clean
as anyone else in the competition. No need to dash off angry
e-mail from Down Under.
Thing is, how can we watch any event without
wondering who's taking drugs? Misty Hyman swam the butterfly
as if thick water polo dick were awaiting her at the end of the
race, and she finished in a winning time she had never before
approached. Were performance-enhancing drugs coursing through
her veins? Or was it the lure of water polo dick?
Can't tell.
There's only one solution. Give the athletes
the fuckin' drugs. Give them the drugs and ban the tests.
"What?" you ask. "We can't
allow doped-up kids to compete in the Olympics. It'll only ruin
the purity of the competition and send a terrible message worldwide
-- "
Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up. These
are performance-enhancing drugs we're talking about. It's not
like you're going to see some crack whore flailing away on the
uneven bars. Besides, we all want to see enhanced performances,
don't we?
Take the 1988 games in Seoul. Ben Johnson
sprinted past Carl Lewis in the 100-meter dash. But afterwards,
Johnson tested positive for banned substances and the gold was
awarded to Lewis. Tell the truth. Didn't you feel a little cheated?
Didn't you want to see Lewis take the same drugs and race Johnson
again? Let's face it, Johnson whipped Carl's ass. And we'll never
know for sure who the faster man really was.
Give them the drugs, give them the fuckin'
drugs. And let's make sure every athlete gets equal access to
the same drugs. We don't want some of the competitors left out
of the running because of financial hardship. And we sure don't
want them to have to do anything outrageous, like order drugs
over the Internet from a Web site in Thailand. Or score them
from a dealer at a city park. Or marry a shot putter.
The new drug policy should be simple:
don't ask, don't tell. This will prevent athletes from shooting-up
on the track, for that would be wrong. If the Olympic officials
have problems managing a don't-ask, don't-tell policy, they should
consult the gay community. Or male divers. Or Carl Lewis.
Here's the best reason to allow performance-enhancing
drugs at the Olympics: Romanian gymnast Andreea Raducan. She
was clearly a victim of the current hypocritical drug policy.
Raducan competed her heart out and won a gold medal in all-around
gymnastics, but some idiot, fuckwad of a doctor gave her an over-the-counter
cold medicine and what do you know? The tiny time capsule contained
a banned substance, psuedoephedrine. Fuck me, it wasn't even
real ephedrine. But the Olympic committee shuddered at the test
results and decided to strip Raducan of her gold medal anyway.
Idiocy. It just pisses me off. The powers-that-be
pronounced Raducan a loser based on bonehead circumstantial evidence
and that's just... not... fair. It offends my sense of justice,
what little is left after last year's Superbowl, and it's all
because of ludicrous machinations in a sanctimonious world where
-- whoa, whoa, whoa, Tex.
Sorry. Must be the diet pills talking.
Which reminds me, we should also lay a
little dope on the television commentators. Let's give Jim Gray
some Irish Coffees, for crissakes, and wake that poor bastard
up. In the days before the ill-fated Pete Rose interview, Gray
used to be a geek with teeth. Now he's just a geek, gumming every
athlete to orgasm. Give him the drugs, I say. Give everyone the
fuckin' drugs.
One exception: The guy who sets the height
of the horse in the vault competition. No more drugs for him.
* * *
SHOT PUTTER C.J. HUNTER: I definitely believe old C.J.
is guilty of knowingly using banned substances. Not because he
flunked four drug tests, but because he retained Johnny Cochrane
as his lawyer. I also believe he'll get off scot free.
* * *
ANOTHER AUSTINITE BITES IT: Lance Armstrong finished
13th in the bike race. Is it me, or is he looking more and more
like Lyle Lovett?
* * *
MIRACLE ON THE MAT MY ASS: America's media are making
a big deal over the gold medal match in the super heavyweight
division of Greco-Roman wrestling, where young Wyoming farm boy
Rulon Gardner defeated Russian wrestling legend Alexander Karelin.
How much of a big deal? Well, they put a Greco-Roman match on
prime time TV. That's new.
Some TV announcers -- no doubt hoping to get their mugs on
CNN -- are comparing the match to the Miracle on Ice from the
1980 Olympics at Lake Placid. Apart from lacking the obvious
political implications (don't get me started), there's another
reason Rulon's victory can't compare with the U.S. hockey team's
victory twenty years ago: The hockey team made an effort. Rulon
just stood on the mat and stalled his corn-fed ass until Karelin
made a mistake. Am I the only one sad about this noble Russian
warrior's failed bid for a fourth gold medal? I doubt it.
Karelin goes back to Russia a wounded hero and a member of
Parliament. And Rulon goes back to Wyoming with a useless gold
medal in wrestling, although it might give him first dibs on
cow tipping. Check that. Cow tipping calls for an effort.
As far as I'm concerned, Karelin lost to a big, fat fish.
* * *
STANDARD DISCLAIMER:
This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into
it, you're on your own.
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