Posted: Wednesday, August 20, 2008 12:00 am
Just like any human being within 50 miles of a television set, I was aware of the hype surrounding swimmer Michael Phelps as the Olympics unfolded. Until quite recently, I didn't think he deserved it.
It wasn't that I doubted his talent; but it bothered me that every event seemed to come back to Phelps. USA's win in men's 400 free relay (which was possible, in part, due to the effort of the other three members of the team) was a Phelpsfest - excuse me, Phelpsphest.
Nevermind that Cullen Jones became only the second African-American to ever win swimming gold. Nevermind that the anchor was the hero of the race. It was still, "Michael, how did you feel about winning? Michael, what did you think about setting a world record? Michael, what did it mean that you pumped both fists in the air when you finished? Did we mention that you won, and set a world record?"
Anytime an American athlete breathed, NBC somehow tied it to Phelps and his quest for eight gold medals. I swear they talked about Phelps when gymnast Alicia Sacramone fell off the balance beam.
His mother got more airtime than most American medalists. And the most athletic thing she did was jump up out of her seat at the end of each race.
The guy has talent, I thought, but come on. I was sick of hearing about his wingspan and foot size and all the rest of his freakish anatomy. Sick of analyzing his dolphin kick. Sick of announcers praising his sportsmanship because he - no way! - cheered for his teammates.
Then I watched the 100-meter butterfly.
If don't know what happened by now, you've made a concentrated effort to avoid it. But here's what I saw: Phelps trailing Serbia's Milorad Cavic at the first and only turn of the race. With 20 meters to go, Cavic's lead looked insurmountable. With 10 meters to go, it still looked like he had it.
But with the final few strokes, an Olympic motto is realized and something amazing happened. Phelps incredibly gained on Cavic, and as they touched the wall I thought, just maybe, Phelps caught him. Then the scoreboard confirms it: Phelps wins gold, by one-hundredth of a second. In Beijing, the Water Cube and Phelps go wild. Outside of China, an untold number of people scream at the TV, myself included.
I was converted.
It's not just that it was a great race. It was a fantastic race performed under an intensely high-pressure situation, with the world wondering if he could actually equal the legendary Mark Spitz. It was Phelps' seventh of eight final performances at the Games, and though it wasn't a world record, it was as dramatic and triumphant as it could have been.
Even his ubiquitous mother didn't even think he'd won until the scoreboard proclaimed it.
The Superman-incarnate himself could hardly wrap his head around the race. When asked how it made him feel to know he'd matched Spitz, he rambled about being fired up before saying, "I'm at a loss for words."
For a media phenom like Phelps, the statement was almost as unprecedented as his swim.
Then NBC's Andrea Kramer asked if he had truly thought he could win seven gold medals in one Olympics. Phelps answered that he had believed in himself; that belief went a long way.
He made a believer out of me.