IF A PRUDE RAN THE OLYMPICS

If a prude ran the Olympics,
NBC would not have cut away from an opening ceremony tribute to terrorist attack victims for an interview by Ryan Seacrest with Michael Phelps. Seacrest and Phelps are, of course, quiet and elusive, and coverage of them is tough to come by. But America missed an opportunity to join in mourning, we missed the opportunity to hear the old hymn ‘Abide With Me’ sung with pure simplicity by Emile Sande, and we lost the chance to prove to the secular world that Christian hymnody is not limited to ‘Amazing Grace’.

If a prude ran the Olympics, 
she would have hired better uniform pattern inspectors.
Somehow the pattern for the female gymnasts uniforma, with its deficient bottom coverage, got flipped upside down and sent to the tailor for the female swimmers. As expected,the deficient coverage moved to the top. The result was that our women gymnasts and swimmers spent precious muscle and concentration pulling and tugging and tucking themselves into their suits.

If a prude ran the Olympics,
she would remind newscasters that syllables are not in such short supply that we can’t spare a few and refer to the gold medal tumblers as the ‘Women’s Gymnastic Team’ instead of the ‘Fab Five’. Announcers have no problem wasting literally billions of syllables in their commentaries. Why the sudden coyness with the gymnasts? C’mon folks. Throw caution to the winds and splurge on those extra four syllables. Please.

If a prude ran the Olympics, 
she would argue that, although honoring our roots is a good thing, and tradition is dandy, let’s not return to the days of the original Olympics in ancient Greece and have our athletes perform in the all-together. No doubt the male divers are just being all historical and nostalgic with their ‘almost all-together’ Speedos, but some notions from the good old days are better disregarded.

If a prude ran the Olympics,
she would spot all the female runners a couple hundredths of a second. Then they could wear a nice pair of sweats and wouldn’t have to worry about lack of aerodynamics.

If THIS prude ran the Olympics she would demand that whenever the Dutch win a gold medal, we televise the ceremony. We could watch the winner on the platform sing these stirring words of the national anthem of the Netherlands, and get all teared up:

William of Nassau am I, of Germanic descent;

True to the fatherland I remain until death.

Prince of Orange am I, free and fearless.

To the King of Spain I have always given honour.

Which Olympic Flavor are You?

I couldn't help myself. Watching the Olympics made me want to dig up a bunch of sports photos.
Here is my tribute to athletes of all makes and models–anyone who plays for the love of the game.

NOT ping pong. We call it 'Table Tennis'

Equestrian event akin to dressage

Competitive wall climbing

Biking

Chair-shooting

Badminton (Goodminton?)

Headless basketball

By the time she's old enough, hula-hooping will be an Olympic event

Rhythmic volleyball

Precipitation volleyball

Petitioners volleyball

Contact frisbee

Grimace football

Squeezable football

Terrier tetherball

Synchronized karate

Gold medal grannies

Your multi-tasking Prude here, with Olympic commentary written while watching coverage on 4 separate channels, knitting, pulling weeds, folding laundry, and scrubbing the tub. Can you say hexathlete?

They say this is the year of the woman athlete. I say it is the year of the aging athlete.
There’s that Japanese equestrian who is 71. Biologically he is old enough to be my father.
The equestrian world is full of folks who have reached the sensible age of getting glory by giving commands to an underling while sitting pretty in exquisite duds.

An Olympic archer is 46, a shooter is 61, and a Bulgarian gymnast–bless his heart– is 39. This gymnast, who describes his body as ‘falling apart’, competes because it provides his trainer and masseuse with employment for a bit longer. That is what happens when one is on the cusp of middle age. The realization that others are looking to you for their livelihood hits like a ton of bricks and with the responsibility comes the fear that you will never be able to retire.

When I was barely in my teens the summer Olympics inspired me to run and jump and push myself so I could someday be an Olympian. I trained like crazy and disciplined myself for the ENTIRE TWO WEEKS of the Munich Olympics between prime-time coverage. The Olympic dream went on hiatus for the next several years while I pursued my dream of being David Cassidy’s girlfriend, my dream of being a college graduate and my dream of surviving motherhood.

The dreams, while increasing in realistic expectations, decreased in glory. As I add fiber to my diet and crow’s feet to my age spots, my dreams of Olympic glory are dim as my close-range vision.
But this year?
This year I dream again.
I see the gray-haired athletes.
I hear their joints creak.
I empathize when security tries to direct them to the grandparents’ section.
But when they peer at me over their reading glasses, they inspire me nevertheless.
You may not be able to run farther, swim faster or flip higher than the 20-year-olds, they seem to say. But Olympic glory is not only for the young.
If you need me I’ll be in the back yard, brushing up on my archery skills.

Anything is possible, Cameroon

Fair warning:
Your Prude is an Olympic junkie.
For the next 17 days I’ll spend a bit of time writing about the Olympics and the rest will be spent watching them. My poor husband. My poor dog.

Did you know competition has already begun? Soccer.
The few fans in the arena yesterday saw the women’s team from Brazil trounce the ladies from Cameroon 5-0.
It was barely a competition.
However, this is the first time they have even qualified for Olympic competition.

The Cameroon women range in age from 16 to 29. They have names like Ajara, Claudine, Ysis,Drusille, Bibi and Jeanette. They come from an area of western Africa tugged and fragmented and fought over for hundreds of years by Bantu settlers, Muslim nomads, Germans, French and British. Its borders finally jerrymandered into some semblance of what Europe called a nation, Cameroon declared its independence to become one of the most corrupt nations in the world. The vice-riddled government and dishonest law enforcement have exalted bribe-taking to an art form.
Its fractious, fragmented citizenry fight over rubber and oil and rain forests and their future.
Cameroon has one of the highest literacy rates in Africa, but that rate for women is only about 58%.
They offset this by outliving the men by 3 years. On average a woman from Cameroon lives to be 54.
This means that many of the young women on the soccer field yesterday are long past the half-way point of their life expectancy.

The tough little soccer women of Cameroon face overwhelming odds on the soccer field but even greater ones back home.
Maybe that accounts for their fighting spirit despite the demoralizing loss to Brazil.
‘...this is football,” their coach said, “and anything is possible.”

Keep fighting, ladies of Cameroon. And don’t quit fighting when you get back home.
Anything is possible.

Unveiling of new Olympic Uniforms!!!!!

As promised, today is the day The Prude unveils her new uniforms for the women’s Olympic Gymnastic team, and in a burst of 2-for-1 goodwill she is tossing in one for the women’s track team.

You know how gravity is forever pulling teen boy’s britches south?

In a strange reversal of forces, it is forever pulling the bottoms of those poor, miniscule teen girl gymnasts’ uniforms NORTH.  This necessitates the constant tugging, yanking motion they have perfected over the years. Concern about these creeping uniforms has to detract the little gymnasts from their routines, so The Prude came up with a really adorable addition:

The Bike Short.

Think how cute and comfortable this would look under their uniform, not to mention the chafing it will relieve on the balance beam!

The shorts could have clever designs, and after the Olympics the girls could have all their new gymnast friends sign said shorts for a memento.

Any Olympic aficionado has probably noticed that the uniforms for the female track team are slowly disappearing. Budget cuts are merciless and The Prude would like us all to have bake sales to raise money for new ensembles.

Also notice how the current clothing forces the air goes straight up and over the runner? This causes something we call ‘wind resistance’ and it slows her down.

The Prude has designed a new uniform, borrowing from the latest technology used in sports cars. (Think about the speed of even the slowest sports car in relation to even the fastest runner and you’ll see how sensible this new uniform will be)

As you can see, using aerodynamics, the wind moves easily up and over the new uniform.

With just a few changes, The Prude believes that Team USA can have some of our best times and scores ever, and we won’t need to cover our children’s eyes.

Once The Prude can control her blushing she is going to tackle the men’s swim team uniforms and try to protect the women’s sand volleyball team from the sand mites that no doubt take advantage of THOSE budget-cut outfits.