The Olympics are terrible

I am the most annoying person to watch the Olympics with. I'm a condescending former elite athlete who loathes the armchair fan. I love sports. I love athletes. I hate fans. I'm especially annoyed by those who believe their dalliances in amateur childhood athletics give them insight into the travails and accomplishments of Olympic athletes.

This is the preamble to a Salon piece by Jennifer Sey, who believes her dalliances in amateur childhood athletics give her insight into the travails and accomplishments of Olympic athletes.

You loved Nadia and begged your mom to sign you up for gymnastics classes. You went two days a week until you were in junior high. But then your body developed and boys noticed and hanging out at the mall or trying out for the cheerleading squad seemed a lot more appealing than spending the afternoon in a chalky, musty gym scared out of your wits to do what the coach was demanding.

I was practicing 12 hours a week by the time I was 7, traveling up and down the New Jersey Turnpike each weekend for competitions. I moved away from home when I was 14, trained 40 hours a week while attending high school, endured untold abuses by overenthusiastic coaches who weighed me twice a day to make sure I didn't inadvertently get fat during my seven-hour practice.

And yet, though she won the U.S. Nationals in '86, Sey's greatest accomplishment on the international stage seems to be this: