Olympics

Once every four years a magical sickness comes along that somehow, miraculously, impossibly, inspires us all to give a shit about athletes that we’ve never heard of compete in sports we don’t even consider real. Sprinters, swimmers, high divers, and even rowers are the objects of our affection and praise. All because they wear our national colours.

Olympic fever is a global phenomenon, with over 200 nations participating, it’s the only time that nearly every nation in the world comes together and strives for a common goal. That goal, of course being, to prove that their citizens are better than everyone elses at meaningless athletic competition.

Countries and cities are willing to spend huge amounts of money to host the games, despite the fact that the new, glorious stadiums quickly become useless; and the tourist influx from the games always annoys locals and doesn’t infuse nearly enough money to justify the cost. But the Olympics aren’t about money or logic, they’re about passion and pride. Hosting the games is the biggest win of them all, so even if you don’t win the most medals, as long as you put on a good show, you can still be a winner. And nothing beats having the support of the home crowd when your nation’s athletes are competing. Nothing except being American, of course.

Oh, and there’s the Winter Olympics too. Those are like the summer games, except with even more obscure sports. And cold.