I never thought swimming was very cool, much less racing in a pool.

Even while involved in those races as a kid, I never was that interested. There was no way to tell if you won unless it was by a landslide. So what if you can swim faster than me, Sarah? I found a quarter at the bottom of the pool, and your parents are probably getting divorced. Who's the real winner?

I've never considered swimming to be a spectator sport, either. Once the goggles and swim cap are on, it looks like a bunch of aliens splashing around for 50 yards at a time. Yeah, I know it's meters, but this is America, damnit.

Imagine my surprise when I found myself with a mild case of Olympic Swimming Fever. I ran to the TV -- OK, walked to the TV -- sat on the couch in front of the TV, and then it happened. Every time the Olympians approached the pool, my body tensed and my eyes remained glued to the television. I couldn't look away -- except for that one time after the 400-meter relay when Michael Phelps was celebrating so emphatically that the world almost saw his Abercrombie region.

So, now I'm hooked and spend my lunch hours watching the recap of woman's kayaking and my evenings hating the Chinese. They're winning too many medals. This addiction happens every four years, but this round I hoped to kick the habit. Sure, there are the Michael Phelpses and the Yamaguchis and the Kerri Strugses of the world who make the Olympics magical and honorable. But they are just the shining façade covering up a dark and ugly reality. Deep down, maybe I think the Olympics are a terrible thing.

For starters, horrible scenarios unfold for Olympic athletes all the time. Not necessarily to them directly, but to their families and friends. It's like an Olympic athlete is a carcinogenic albatross. Just being in proximity to an Olympian could give you cancer, cause you to be in a horrible wreck or fall off a ladder. Don't take my word for it. Just Google the words "Olympics" and "tragedy"; you get 2.84 million results.

The other problem I have with the Games is that it perpetuates a vicious cycle of uselessness. Say you're a water polo player. You work hard to be the best water polo player ever, so you one day can go to the Olympics. You spend hour upon hour in grueling practices, turning what once was a fun game into an obsessive chore. But say you make it. Then you win. You are the best water polo player in the world. Now what? You become the coach and help the next generation of water polo players. It's similar to people who get a master's degree in philosophy: It contributes nothing to society except more people to teach philosophy.

And what if you don't win the gold? "Able to tread water for up to one hour" is not a marketable job skill.

But despite the tragedy surrounding it, and the pointless waste of time and effort (like the fact that curling is a sport), you have to love the Olympics and wish all the athletes the best.

That, and there's not much on TV in August anyway.

* The Wright Stuff appears in Spotlight every other week. E-mail Jesse Wright at jesse.wright@theeagle.com.

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