Bringing the Olympics Home

I was admiring the Stephen Colbert Winter Olympics magnet in Ellen’s classroom, and it got us started on how much we miss the Games already. Ellen, who is a friend and colleague, loves the spirit, excitement and intensity of the Olympics so much that she’s still got some events left to watch on her DVR, four days after the Closing Ceremonies. I’m envious.

I have followed sports for as long as I’ve been watching TV, and I’ve followed them closely ever since Santa gave me a subscription to Sports Illustrated just before I turned 11. I’ve worked as a sportswriter and covered everything from the Final Four to Putt-Putt tournaments. Even so, there are really only three sports experiences that bring my enthusiasm to a level that I’d deem passionate: One is the entire baseball season. The other is NCAA basketball in March. And the third is the Olympics, both summer and winter.

I love the Olympic fortnight and all its built-in drama. I love the kid out of nowhere who takes the silver, I respect the favorite who holds on and takes the gold as expected, and I’m inspired by the gutsy athlete who completes the race despite injury. I watch the cheesy NBC profiles, I put my trust in Bob Costas, and I even look forward to the Olympic-themed commercials. Someday, I hope to attend an Olympics in person.

But as March begins, the Vancouver Winter Olympics are finished. Gone. Amy and I have no DVR, so there’s nothing on tape to watch. It’s on to the rest of our lives.

Or is it? Shaun White and Shani Davis may not be here in our house, but the more I look around the more I see some Olympic-caliber events taking place around me. In fact, La Casa Hynes could easily bid for the site of the next Household Olympics. I can’t see the IOC voting against us, really. I think they’d love it.

For one, you’ve got the Bunk Bed Jumping event. See 8-year-old hopping on her top bunk to impress Grandma. Hear Grandma ask 8-year-old to stop horsing around. Watch 8-year-old leap from the top twin-size bunk, only to land on the bottom full-size bunk with all the weight and velocity of a ski jumper. Watch the wood split in half on the side, and see the bottom mattress slither to the ground. Hear Mom yell. Loudly.

After you’ve caught your breath, give Puppy Gate Crashing a try. Walk into the kitchen to greet your 10-week-old golden retriever. Watch the small furry dog dive toward you, only to slam belly-first into a plastic puppy gate. See her fall on her back on the linoleum, only to hop up with tail wagging. Really, who needs a halfpipe?

For the more detail-oriented sportsmen, there is Blankie Searching. Just before bedtime, hear a 5-year-old tell you that she can’t find “Blankie.” What was once a hospital blanket holding an infant is now a small, gray cloth the size of a Girl Scout badge. Search through every room, pick up every pillow, and rummage through each pocket as you try and find this dirty piece of cloth.

Oh, there is so much to savor in these domestic games. For the biathletes among us, try Stain Shooting. Your job here is to wear your nicest school clothes, get through a day of school with the clothes still clean, then figure out a way to spray that tomato sauce directly on the sleeves of each shirt just as you finish your meal. You can’t miss the target, because then Mom and Dad would actually have it easy for once. It’s not just a bowl of penne, kid: It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

As we close out these games, let’s turn our attention to the Dimetapp Marathon. Since it’s winter, we’re trying to see how many consecutive days someone can have a stuffy nose and require two teaspoons of our favorite grape medicine. We’re shooting for a new winter record here, so let’s not stop at three weeks, please.

This is great. I’ve got to get NBC on the phone. Poor station is back to regular programming again, which means more of that Leno-O’Brien nightmare. Notice how no one talked about that these past few weeks? All because they were eating up the hockey, curling, skiing, skating and sledding. Just imagine if they had the chance to watch even juicier events, like Vicks Steam Humidifier Cleaning, Taylor Swift-on-the-iPod Dancing, or the frenetic Grab-the-Coat-and-Leash-Before-the-Puppy-Pees-on-the-Floor race?

Frankly, I’m embarrassed I hadn’t thought of this earlier. But now I’m ready to bring sport to a new level. The Olympics don’t have to end, folks. Just look around you, build a podium in the laundry room, and go for the gold.