Instead of watching today’s Mariners game, an absolute shellacking at the hands of the Red Sox, I would have preferred to be watching the Paris Olympics. There is nothing I love more than becoming attached to a new sport for two weeks, and then promptly forgetting about its existence for the next two years, when the cycle begins again. I love watching Olympic athletes compete and hearing their stories and wondering how one exactly becomes, say, a hammer-thrower or slalom kayaker or Olympic-level skateboarder at the age of 14, which they all seem to be (perhaps because one must be young and invincible-feeling in order to perform some of those tricks).
Mariners fail to qualify for Interesting Olympics, get blown out by Red Sox 14-7
