Eight Is The Real Deal

Sunday, Aug. 17, 2008 - 12:15 a.m.

When I was seven years old, I was completely in love with Mark Spitz.

I thought he was the prettiest human being I had ever seen, and my parents helped me to understand that he was the fastest swimmer in the world, and they made sure I watched him in all of his Olympic events.

My parents were sports fans for their entire lives, with particular emphasis during the games of every Olympiad. Mark Spitz absolutely enthralled both of them. "We're not going to live long enough to see anybody else like this," said Mom and Dad, "but you might."

For Christmas that year, I received that very famous poster of him posed wearing his shorts and his gold medals and nothing else. That poster stayed on the back of my bedroom door for the next five years, until I switched bedrooms with my little brother. Then Mark was taken down, and I proceeded through junior high and high school and moved away and got a life and so on and so forth -- but I never forgot what my parents said.

It came to mind today, as I watched Michael Phelps earn his eighth medal of this games.

And I've lived to see history.

If a Michael Phelps poster comes into existence, I'm there. :-)

Congratulations, Michael.

In a Games rife with deception, thank you for being the real deal.

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That's it. Happy Sunday.

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