I love watching the Olympics. Majestic theme music? I'm listening. Kitschy local flavor pieces about polar bears and blind sled dogs? I'm watching. Bob Costas's snarky comments and witty banter with Chris Collinsworth? I'm giggling. Heart-rending human interest stories about peoples' devastating obstacles and against-the-odds comebacks? I'm moved. Awe-inspiring displays of human skill, emotional performances, underdogs, home country favorites, bizarre twists of fate, and blink of an eye differences between celebratory victories and devastating defeats? Love it. Love it. LOVE it.
And thanks to whiz-bang DVR technology, I get to catch every bit of it. I hung my head when the US curling team couldn't drop shot rock on their last throw of the 11th end not once, but twice. I snickered when NBC introduced Colbert the moose. I got to my feet to urge on Billy Demong for the final stretch of the men's Nordic combined relay. I cheered when Bode Miller placed in the downhill, and even when Aksel Svindal of Norway won with his father cheering on. My jaw dropped when Dutch speedskater Sven Kramer was disqualified after skating over six-miles due to a bizarrely brain-fogged lane switch miscall from his coach in the middle of a 25 lap race. I was awed by Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's elegant ice dance and moved by Joannie Rochette's emotional skate completed in the wake of her mother's untimely passing.