Now that's what sports are suppose to be about.............

I don't know about you, but after spending a weekend watching a $200 million team play like a third tier little league squad, listening to a 22-year-old rookie pitcher talk about not being too upset after he gave up 5 runs and 9 hits in two innings of work, and watching two millionaire baseball players literally treat a soft, bouncing ground ball like it had been dipped in uranium, I was looking for a reason to convince myself that, yes, being a sports fan IS worth the while.

Enter team USA and the 4X100 freestyle relay in the Olympics last night.

Now, I'm not gonna try and pretend I am some sort of swimming expert. If you asked me who Michael Phelps was 4 months ago I would have guessed the Green Party nominee for President. But the beauty of the Olympics is that you truly don't have to be a ardent, hard-core, live-and-die fan of the sport to enjoy the competition.

What do you need to know about what happened last night in Beijing?

First, the American team was NOT favored to win the event, even though they have Phelps, clearly the best swimmer in the world, as a part of the race. Second, the French ARE the best team in the world and were described as heavy favorites to take home the gold. Is that true? I have no clue, so I'll assume yes. Third, the French, as if on cue, talked smack before the games, with their anchor swimmer (the guy who swims the last leg of the race) saying that En Francais was going to "smash" the USA team. Fourth, the race seemed to be going that way when, despite a great opening run by Phelps, where he set an Olympic record for time, the Americans had fallen behind by half a body length with 50 meters to go (one lap). In swimming, half a body length is sorta like a three horse length in horse racing. It is pretty freakin good.
Finally, and most importantly, the team captain of the USA swim team, a guy named Jason Lezak, who evidently has been the anchor swimmer for the USA for the last several Olympics and has seen his team lose out on the gold the last two times, was swimming that last length when he suddenly put it into over drive. There was no tomorrow for this team, for this swimmer, and despite the pain, the fatigue, the begging coming from his arms and legs to just let up, and the seemingly insurmountable lead by the favorite team, Lezak reached deep and pulled a second, third, and fourth gear out of the recesses of his body.
Lezak, with less than 50 meters to go, was suddenly making up the time. Then, suddenly, he was only a few arm lengths behind the leader. Then, suddenly, only a few finger lengths. The wall was approaching. Even with his furious run, his obvious momentum, it appeared it would all be too late. Then, with a final kick and stretch of his arm, Lezak touched the wall.

The scoreboard lit up. Lezak had won the gold for the American team.

Phelps and the rest of his teammates responded the only way one could after such an amazing, emotional race; every ounce of him, every muscle, emotion, expression, exploded in one moment. There were no words, only sounds of pure joy, excitement, amazement, and relief. His arms, legs, torso all expanded at once as he he stood, arms outstretched, fists clenched tightly. His teammates hugged and cheered around him and Lezak, spent, drained, overjoyed in the pool, kept his head down, savoring the moment.

What could make the moment even more sweet?

The final 50 meters, perhaps the most important in the history of the sport, had been won by Lezak but also lost by Alain Bernard of France, his cockiness himself who had declared his team would "smash" Lezak and his countrymen. Now, Bernard's comments and his collapse at the end will be remembered forever, even by people like me, who, when the Olympics have ended and the torch passed on, won't watch another second of swimming. I will remember that Alain Bernard made a prediction, had a chance to make that prediction and reality, and failed when the moment arose. And I will remember that Jason Lezak, with the odds firmly against him, with the hopes of his team and his country, resting on his back, made me remember why, exactly, it is that I love sports.

Through the haze of contracts and police reports, questions of steroid use and apathy, sports is still the only entertainment that can produce wonderful, lifetime memories on the most random of occassions. No one, not one person, sat down last night as expected to see something they will never forget. It was a random Sunday night, no more unique than last week or the week before. Yet anyone who watched Lezak stretch for that wall will never forget how long a split second can seem and how real life, in sports, is almost always more fascinating that fiction.

For a lot of people the Olympics is shunned, as if watching world athletes compete in elegant and interesting sports is somehow beneath sports fans who spend their time watching, and complaining, about millionaire athletes who pick and choose the moments that matter enough to give it their all.

But if you truly call yourself a sports fan and you weren't enraptured by what you saw last night, then you have become too jaded to even squeeze the small joys out of athletic competition.

Sunday night was what sports is suppose to be all about, whether it is on a baseball diamond, a football field, or in a pool. These are the greatest athletes in the world and, for one night, I was reminded of what those athletes can accomplish when their heart matches their talent.