So as I was watching the Olympics yesterday (yes, I mean yesterday. I've got about 73 hours of coverage backlogged on my TiVo) rooting for Bode Miller to win his first of certainly several gold medals (OK, that was a joke, I'm not that far behind) and it hit me that I just don't find the Olympics as exciting as I used to. When I was about twelve, I LOVED the Olympics. LOVED. I even loved watching ice skaters complete the compulsory figures. Now, I just get a little "eh" feeling. Perhaps it started when coverage of women's slalom was interrupted to bring us 30 minutes of in-depth analysis of Michelle Kwan's groin injury. Maybe I'm a little irritated by atheletes who fancy themselves celebrities (see the aforementioned Mr. Miller). Where's Eddie the Eagle, and the Jamaican bobsled team? How long has it been since we've seen something as spectacular as the Miracle on Ice? OK, I was too young to remember that one, but I saw the movie. Even the sad stories aren't as good anymore - remember Dan Jansen falling on the ice, just hours after learning that his sister had died of leukemia? Those were atheletes you could really root for. And I'm a person who hates organized sports (they're hurting America, people!). Anyway, whenever I start to feel too jaded, I just pull out my own little piece of Olympic history. Brian Boitano, baby.