The Olympics may overtake the networks of NBC for more than two weeks and force other networks into rerun central, but there’s nothing better to watch than the intense events the games bring with them.
It doesn’t matter what else is on TV, though. Whatever it is, the Olympics are better. As cliche as it sounds, the Olympics have all the makings of amazing television for more than just sports fans, compelling millions to watch every possible moment.
There’s constant drama in each event, as favorites fight to keep their titles and underdogs push to upset them. Every time a figure skater tumbles with a missed jump, especially when wearing a ridiculously sequined and feathered leotard, there’s comedy.
Don’t forget the touching comeback stories and the emotion of the medal ceremonies. I cry every time I hear the “Star Spangled Banner” during them, and I’m not even being presented a medal.
Something about the Olympics also brings out everyone’s inner-patriot that would make our Founding Fathers proud, inciting rallying cries of “USA!,” allowing for great anti-Canadian jokes and making Cold War hatred relevant again.
When the games end, I might be happy to finally see the birth of Jim and Pam’s baby, but I’ll still be counting down until the next Olympics in 2012.
Although I describe myself as an opinionated person, there are only five things I truly hate. They include actor Robert Patrick (way to ruin “The X-Files” and “Terminator 2”), Guy Fieri (he somehow makes me not want to eat), the third “Pirates of The Caribbean” movie (redefines how far talent will sink for an obscene payday), Tyler Stevens (he knows what he did) and the Olympics.
I despise the Olympics. They consume two weeks of prime television viewing time and make normally sane people care about curling and ice dancing. Skiing and firing a rifle turns from being the activity of deranged winter sports-loving sociopaths to something worthy of a gold medal.
The biggest problem with the Olympics, however, is the ever-present sap. Whether it is having to watch someone’s story of winning medals for a family member who is sick/dead/inspirational or telling tales about practicing skating on a pond at age four, schmaltz infects the event like an icy, syrupy disease.
I’m all for friendly international competition, but the Olympics seems to foster this idea in all the wrong ways. I’d be totally alright with one long international snowball fight determining who wins medals and then just calling it a day.
At least then I can watch “30 Rock” again.
