As we have been covering recently, the Olympics have begun and the world has come together to compete on the field of sports. Nations have gathered to cheer on their athletes in the interest of seeing their country do the best, and watching underage people in tight clothing.
I know that it may come as a shock to some people, but a lot of the atheletes in the Olympics are only teenagers. If you can’t tell, just wait until they are interviewed and count the number of times you hear the word “like.” Many of these youngsters are in gymnastics, a few are even in diving events. The U.K. has a kid on its team, in which event I cannot remember, and he is 13. Yes, he looks like Harry Potter.
This is not to say that were is not plenty of legal meat on display for both genders, but there are clearly some events that cater to a more disserning crowd. These are the people that like to watch high school cheerleaders and have fantasies about them. There is nothing illegal about it, just as there is nothing illegal about hanging around high school after you graduate, but just because you are not a felon does not mean you are free from creepiness.
I am the ripe old age of 25, and from what I can tell, most of the athletes competing in Beijing are younger than me. This is fairly concerning, because this means that I am past my prime. I fully realize that I will never be a great athlete, but it is difficult for me to imagine that I am not in the prime of my life, and have been out of it since I started filling out college applications. Shouldn’t I start worrying about not being in the best physical condition, say, in my 30s, or after a horrible car accident?
Speaking of being old, there also appear to be a fair amount of geriatrics competing right now, if the open ceremony was any indicator. Sure, many of them were probably coaches, but Germany has a gymnast who is in her 30s, and U.S. swimmer Dara Torres is 41.
If you watch the Olympics, prepare to feel amazed, proud, sad or happy, but also prepare to feel kind of creepy–you know, that feeling you get when you see Hannah Montana posters. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch the floor routine.