True Confessions about The games

I wish I liked the Olympics. I used to. I used to ride my roller skates down the sidewalk in front of my house, arms behind my back-forward lean, Eric Heiden style because I was obsessed with him. I knew all the figure skaters and speed skaters. I knew swimmers and had posters of gymnasts on my wall. We even went to see the gymnasts and the figure skaters from the 1988 Olympics when they went on tour. I couldn’t wait to watch every four years. I thought someday I would share that with my own children.

But now, I don’t even know they’re coming until they get in the way of my regularly scheduled programming. Somewhere around the time they split the winter and summer games, I lost interest, first in the winter and now even in most of the summer. I still tune in to see who won, but for the most part I avoid it. In fact, I have started watching other networks for news because I am already sick of the non-stop NBC coverage.

I don’t know why. The Olympics still have everything I love-sport purity, great stories, patriotism, hard-working kids, real life heroes. But for some reason, I can’t get behind The Games. I am worried that I am heartless. Heck, I don’t even know what some of the sports are anymore. My kids don’t even know it’s on or maybe even what it is.

What to do? I want my kids to have the same excitement and joy I had about Eric and Scott and Kristi. But it is harder to get behind a guy who looks like Carrot Top and has already made buckets of money with endorsements and television appearances.

I think in this arena-I lose parenting points.

I’ll have to wait to see what the judges say. That German one-I hear he’s tough.