While growing up, I couldn’t go more than a few minutes without talking about sports. My mind was usually gravitating around something involving my beloved Phillies or Steelers, but – in a pinch – just about any sporting event would keep me occupied.
    As I grew older, not much changed. Front office stories and off-the- field occurrences broadened my interests (slightly), but I was still immersed in whatever the next game was going to be.
    I was 11 years old when Atlanta hosted the 1996 Summer Olympics. During those two weeks, I had an eye-opening experience. I like sports, but what I really love is competition.
    Before 1996, I was zeroed in on baseball, football and maybe some hockey in between the seasons. But as I watched event after event, I started to get attached to every American team. Armed with a summer vacation’s worth of free time and round-the- clock coverage, there was almost always some event featuring an American team or individual that I immediately became invested in.
    This wasn’t quite patriotism - at least not the same sort of patriotism that I now feel when the United States competes in some sort of international game. Memorizing state capitals was about the height of my geopolitical understanding at the time.
    All I knew was that there was a red, white and blue team in most events that I wanted to win.
    Checking the scores each night and rooting for the U.S. to top the medal count is the route that many take when ‘cheering’ for our country in the Olympics, but the 11-year old version of me got fully engulfed in the spirit of competition.
    If there was a track event, I was watching. If there was a gymnastics event going on, I was hanging on every flip and spin. If there was a water polo match, I was frantically trying to figure out what the rules for water polo are, and then cheering on the American team.
    I can hide my crippling addiction to competition so long as it’s shielded by an American flag, but it usually shines through in the Olympics as I invariably end up watching any tense game, no matter the countries involved.
    This cycle has repeated itself every two years since then. Not an Olympics goes by – of the summer or winter variety – where I don’t find myself learning the ins and outs of some vague sport and immediately becoming entirely too emotionally invested in it. Everyone remembers the ‘Miracle on Ice’, the women’s gymnastics team gold in ’96 and Michael Phelps’ continued dominance of the pool. I’m all for those, but I was going just as nuts for the women’s soccer team winning the gold in overtime in 2004 and the men’s hockey team outlasting Russia in a shootout two years ago.
    And I was still there, still watching, still caring when moments not connected to our country happened. I’ll feel the pride of athletes who may not have a chance to medal, but are the first from their nation to ever qualify in a particular sport. That joy in me also comes out when true greatness is on display – such as Usain Bolt breaking and re-breaking records and making people rethink just how fast humans can run.
    In sports that I usually don’t care about, I always find myself cheering for athletes I’ll never remember as if they were trying to win a Super Bowl or World Series for the professional teams I love.
    A month from now, I might only remember a couple of these fringe sports. And even when I forget the faces and names, I always remember the fire and competitive spirit they show. For many athletes at the Olympics, there is no career of fame and fortune waiting after the games. And – depending on the sport – a lifetime’s worth of effort can boil down to just a split second to shine on the world’s biggest stage.
    That’s the thing every competitor dreams about. So while I’ll be knee-deep in football season a month from now, there will always be a special place in my own sporting world for the Olympics and the unique and truly special competition that it provides.
    Mike Anthony may be reached at (912) 489-9408.