It took me a long time to regain an interest in the Olympic Games after I lost a high stakes “suppe bet” on Ben Johnson in 1988. “Suppe” are two fingered slaps to the wrist (try them, they hurt). I was not popular at Japanese school, and all the boys in my class bet on Carl Lewis . . . probably just to spite me. When Ben Johnson won the 100m Gold I gleefully beat there wrists five times each . . . only to be paid back double the next Monday following the weekend disclosure of his disqualification. That was eighteen years ago and my arms have recovered sufficiently for me to succumb once again to the temptations of the Olympic spectacle. Fortunately, the Japanese broadcasting companies largely neglected hockey so I was spared the agony of being caught up with Canada’s hockey shame. Instead, I turned my attention to Team Aomori’s curling quest. I was a little disappointed to discover that all four members of Team Aomori were from Hokkaido, but . . . .
Anyhoo, when I went into Ikokuma Elementary School the other day the grade six teacher asked me whether I wanted to go to the next winter Olympics in Vancouver . . . as an athlete. We pondered the possibility of my taking up curling, but curling requires skill. No, it will take something sissier than curling to open any Olympic doors for me. So my recommendation to the International Olympic Committee is . . .
Please, IOC. Give us ordinary Canadians a chance. I promise to train hard~