I’ve never seen Michael Phelps, the 19-year-old Olympic swimmer favored to win a half-dozen medals this month in Athens, but from what I’ve heard, I picture him as some kind of otter. Long arms, big hands, wide shoulders, short stumpy legs, and a nice, glossy coat of fur.

But really, I don’t think I need to see him. I don’t need to see any more of the Olympics. It’s not good for my self-esteem. Sure, I like watching the competition. It’s thrilling to see the world’s top athletes push themselves as hard as they can in pursuit of victory. But then I realize that an otter-man three years younger than me has captured the world’s attention by excelling so thoroughly at something that it’ll be a disappointment if he doesn’t win.

And that’s not all. Practically everyone at the Olympics is younger than me. At least, that’s the way it seems. 21-year-old Kaitlin Sandeno is keeping up nicely with the world-record holder in the 400m freestyle. China’s Zhang Tianyi, a female medley swimmer is all of 14, she was born in the 90s.

These are young people, like me, but they are making me look bad. Terrible, actually. Wasn’t our generation supposed to be the one that didn’t care about anything, didn’t do anything? Well? Come on, people! Generational apathy only works if everyone does it (er, doesn’t do it).

I mean, I can swim and everything. I can do a front crawl, a breaststroke, and even the butterfly (although I stay away from it; it makes the lifeguards think I’m drowning). But I’m only 22, I figured if ever was going to become the world’s best anything, I still had years and years to do it.

Now that the Olympics have rolled around, with their bright-eyed army of adolescent athletes, I can’t turn on the TV without being reminded of how far in the dust I’m behind left behind. The time to excel, apparently, is not now. It was four years ago.

If I’ve been secretly excelling at something for the last few years, I look forward to collecting my crate of gold-medals. If not, I think I have some catching up to do.

I’m already past my prime for some events – women’s gymnastics, for example, peaks before 20 – so I’ll have to find a sport in which my seniority will be an asset. I’m sure there’s room in the walking competition for someone who’s getting along in age.

Then again, maybe I’m just dreaming. As shocking (and depressing) as it seems, it’s possible that my chance at becoming a world-class athlete has already come and gone. From now on, each Olympics will find me four years older, and the Olympians four years younger. Maybe that’s part of getting older; watching the infinite possibilities of your youth shrink away

What was a real (if unlikely) possibility at the age of 12 is bordering on hopeless at 22. And I don’t even want to think about 32. But while it’s healthy to come to terms with your limitations, there’s something human about refusing to accept them. Some say it’s delusional to watch the Olympics and think, “I could do that.” But if it weren’t for those same delusions, those athletes wouldn’t be where they are today. I’m not saying this kind of ridiculous optimism will make us all Olympians, but it doesn’t hurt to dream.

Ah, and what’s this? It looks like Michael Phelps and his truncated legs failed to win a gold medal in the men’s 200m freestyle, which makes it impossible for him to beat Mark Spitz’s 1972 record for most gold medals in a single Olympics. Now the best Phelps can do is win six.

HA! Underachiever. I could do that.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 17th, 2004 at 10:26 am and is filed under Sports. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.