An Olympic depression

I'd be the first person to tell you that I'm good at sports. I may not be what you would describe as "really" good, but I'm a step above "all right" at a whole host of sporting activities.

However, last week I thought my hidden hopes and dreams were crushed forever.

When the torch came into the stadium in Torino, Italy, and I wasn't wearing the red, white and blue tracksuit of the 2006 U.S. Olympic team, I was devastated by the reality that I would never be an Olympian.

Go ahead, laugh it up. But remember, unless you're Kyle Cerminara, you don't have much of a shot either.

I guess I don't have much of a right to be angry. I never really tried to be a serious athlete. I suppose I just kept thinking maybe some luge scout would see me sledding with my friends and say, "This kid has potential," or maybe, if I was really lucky, a John Candy type would need a tall skinny kid for his next makeshift bobsled team.

I know it's stupid. But don't tell me there isn't a small part of you that doesn't feel the same way. Wishing you could take a lap around that big speed-skating oval, proudly waving an American flag after a gold medal performance.

And how about the medal ceremonies? Which one of you wouldn't want to shed some tears as the world watches you mouth the national anthem from atop the podium? We're Americans after all. We love that stuff.

But last week, I was rudely awakened from my childhood dream, putting me in the uncomfortable position of having to face reality. Twenty-two is way too old to be thinking about trying new sports. I've already tried all the sports I'm allowed. It's time to just accept my inferiority to the gold medal-winning 19-year-old snowboarder Shaun White.

After my realization, my elderly inferiority to White was reinforced on Saturday when a four-hour snowboarding trip left me walking with a gimp.

The worst part about the games is that I know I probably could have been good at some of those events if I ever had the shot to try them out. Take speed skating for example. All you have to do is skate really fast. What a simple concept. But I never had the chance to try. I mean, where on earth do you get those skintight suits and weird-looking skates?

All of these obscure events are a big secret. I don't recall any high schools in my area having speed skating, bobsledding or skeleton teams. Maybe the only way you can make it is if your dad was a bobsledder and he can get you in with his old buddies.

The only consolation I had was to feel pride through someone else's Olympic glory. I thought maybe if Cerminara makes it to the Olympics, and wins gold, he could just let one tear drop down his cheek during the medal presentation. A tear for me and all the guys like me that will never make it.

Alarmingly, it wasn't until this semester that my roommates and I began to realize that we were in fact athletically old. When this happens to you, trust me it will be shocking. Suddenly you come to the grave realization you will never be the point guard for the Lakers, the quarterback for the Bills, or an Olympic athlete, no matter how hard you try.

According to those same roommates - who are also too old to try to be in the Olympics - if staying up late and smoking cigarettes while on AIM was an Olympic sport, I would already have several gold medals. But the fact is I have petitioned the Olympic Committee about the addition and I haven't heard anything back yet. And to be completely honest, I don't think I will.

My athletic dilemma racked my brain and left me thinking, "Isn't there any sport suited for me?" Maybe something you can't get into until you're older. I mean at this point, I would settle for being in the top 10 at anything the Olympics has to offer.

Then finally, after a week of torture, on the second day of the games, my question was answered, and my buried dreams were reignited.

It was blatantly obvious what my destiny was: the biathlon.

How hard could that be? All you have to do is a little cross-country skiing and some shooting. I was made to do that. I have a long stride and I am from the country. Shooting and skiing are in my blood.

Better yet, two of the top-10 finishers in the 20-kilometer individual event were over 35 years old. I have plenty of time, and as an avid procrastinator that's just what I like. The way I see it, I am young enough to become the greatest biathloner in the world.

So, keep an eye out for an old skinny guy crying on the podium in the 2018 winter games. I'll be sure to shed a tear for all of you that never made it.