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okay
Wouldn't it just be easier (and less embarrassing for all of us) if Mark Spitz just went to China and blew Michael Phelps right now? This "conversation" is making my skin crawl. (Yes, I have turned it off.) Bob Costas manages to be appropriately impressed by the people he's talking to and still maintain a professional distance. Spitz is gushing, in what I have no doubt will shortly be every sense of the word, and somehow that kind of sycophancy -- always sure to disgust -- is grosser than usual when the gusher is so senior to the gushee.
The kid's handling it well, though. (Or he was, before I turned off the television.) Phelps was using words like "pleased" and "proud" and "honored" (and "lucky"). Good for him. Spitz was using words like "greatness" and "achievement" and, what made it worst of all, "we".
I have finished the fourth inch on my sock, so I'm going to go to bed now. [nods decisively]
The kid's handling it well, though. (Or he was, before I turned off the television.) Phelps was using words like "pleased" and "proud" and "honored" (and "lucky"). Good for him. Spitz was using words like "greatness" and "achievement" and, what made it worst of all, "we".
I have finished the fourth inch on my sock, so I'm going to go to bed now. [nods decisively]