ichael Phelps. And even though there are these small sub-groups among fans, they have one thing in common; they are all 100% emotionally invested. One of the things I find difficult about being a swimming fan - aside from the lack of TV coverage cough cough NBC - is that when I try and explain why I am a fan I have a very difficult time putting it into words. When asked I usually just say, jokingly, that I just like triumph; an appropriate answer being that the usual end result of a good race can be described with various synonyms of the word. In general, I think that it's hard to explain why you love something or why it affects you because "love" is just a strong emotion - it's something that you feel intensely and instantly recognize when you do. To someone who has never felt passion for anything (whether it be a hobby, sport, a business venture) then it's really like trying to explain why E.T. loved Reeses Pieces so much - he just did.Although saying "triumph" is the reason I follow the sport is meant to be somewhat of a joke, it really does ring true much of the time. For instance, the other day I watched the show -down between good ol' Michael Phelps and his trash-talking rival, Milorad Cavic (cue the theme from the Good the Bad and the Ugly) and I have to say that it ended in a pretty triumphant manner - but before we get to that I have to clear a few things up. Before watching this race, I have to admit that I wasn't exactly as riled up as I should have been - sure it made me mad as hell that Cavic was claiming he had touched first (we all saw the pictures, buddy,) that he deserved the Gold and that, if necessary, he would buy Michael a suit to even the playing field (as if the issue was that Mikey's bank account balance was running low) but I wasn't insanely excited about watching the actual race. If this had been one year ago I would be jumping out of my chair in anticipation but it just didn't feel the same as last August. For me the Olympics was truly an event. I felt on top of the world last summer (minus the times I was actually watching the race and felt the need to vomit from nervousness) and nothing else that came afterward really got me as excited, emotional, or just plain crazy as I was during August 2008. The problem is that the Olympics to us new swim fans was kind of like that first hit for an addict - and we are doomed to spend the rest of your lives chasing that same high. It wasn't until the minutes were winding down and it was actually time to watch the race that I realized how important this was to me. Sure I make fun of Michael and his Subway Sandwich eating habits but the truth is, I became a fan because of his talent, his accomplishments and the way watching him made me feel - every time he won I felt pure elation in knowing that he represented the USA and he proved to everyone that he was the best and so we were because we had him. Of course not everyone believed that we were the best, cough cough Cavic, and it was time once again for him to show everyone that we were and are the undisputed champions.
I watched the race through my fingers because watching full on seemed to painful. What if he didn't win? What would people say? What would Cavic say? Would it cause more controversy over the swimsuits? Could I stand another headache because of the controversy over the swimsuits? I didn't kn
ow. All I knew was that my heart was practically bursting out of my chest as I watched him speed ahead, then fall behind and finally come through at the end for a finish that nobody, nobody could question - a victory won by a superior athlete wearing an "inferior" swimsuit. Once he touched the wall I knew at that moment why I loved him and why I loved swimming - because I do love triumph and this was the best example I could ever wish to witness. Watching him win, I felt something I hadn't experienced since last summer - and it literally brought tears to my eyes. It was a mix of happiness, disbelief, confirmed belief and sheer admiration for the talent, determination, and the will to win - with both grace and humility. In his performance Michael not only showed Cavic but he showed us - He showed us that he really does deserve all the press and all the fans. And even if, as Michael Phelps, the guy from Baltimore, gets himself into a little puff puff trouble that causes people to question his character he shows that as Michael Phelps the athlete, nobody can question his caliber.It's in witnessing things like this that make me realize that my true motivation for being a fan is very selfish - I am constantly being rewarded for my loyalty. When he wins, there is this feeling that comes over you and you believe that in your own small way, you helped make this moment happen. That by banging on the kitchen counter and screaming "Go! Michael, Go!" as loud as you possibly could, you made the win a little easier - that he could hear you through the TV, across continents and even under that water he was cutting through. You feel like he did it for you - that right when he seemed to have started losing steam he heard your voice screaming louder and your heart willing him to win and that's what gave him what he needed for that final push and to come through with the victory. Then of course you have to remind yourself not to be so delusional in your beliefs and to remember that this is essentially what he does for a living. But even with that small realty check you might provide for yourself, in that moment of happiness and adrenaline pumping excitement following a victory you can't bear to allow yourself to believe those more realistic thoughts - you did help and that feeling of euphoria is exactly how he meant for you to feel. When you think about it, that's pretty darn selfish - taking credit for a Gold Medal win when all you did was engage in activities that could, under any other circumstances, land you in a straight jacket. But I guess that's what it means to be a fan - party crazy, part selfish, part supportive and 100% emotionally invested.
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Originally posted @ The Cosmic Kid




















