Cheers and Jeers

One of the best sections of the TV Guide is their listing of the Cheers and Jeers of the week.  After watching a few days of Olympic coverage already, I'm prepared to offer up a few of my own.

Cheers... to Bob Costas and NBC for their dramatic montages that play at the beginning of each night of Olympic Primetime coverage.  The slow-motion shots of athletes, the pained expressions of frustrated coaches, the joyful winners celebrating a victory, the obligatory shots of training and practicing, all matched up with appropriate music starts my evening off well.  I immediately get psyched for whatever competition is taking place that evening.

Jeers... to Elfi Schlegel, Tim Daggett, and Al Trautwig, the commentators for the womens' gymnastics events.  I'm normally somewhat rational.  I don't necessarily believe in ghosts or hoaxes or superstitions... HOWEVER, it absolutely never fails, that as soon as one of these three yahoos proclaims how well a gymnast always does on an event, she sucks.  Last night was no exception.  Chellsie Memmel was performing her routine on the uneven bars, and I swear to God above, no sooner than Elfi had opened her big jinxing mouth to say how she's "never seen Memmel be anything but perfect on this event," wouldn't you know - Memmel slips right off the bars!  Damn you Schlegel!  Daggett did it later on in the night when one of the USA girls was on the balance beam; the gymnast managed to stay on despite Daggett's voodoo curse of talking too much, but it was a close call.  If it was up to me, this entire trio of useless commentators should be ducktaped to a wall in the stadium, and only allowed to speak after the event has been scored.

Jeers... to another annoying reporter.  Andrea Kremer takes a sick joy in tackling swimming competitors seconds after they vacate the pool, and forcing them to endure endless questions about their emotions regarding the race.  Most of these swimmers can barely talk let alone wax poetically about how it feels to come in 3rd in the quarterfinal qualifying heat for the 100m breaststroke.  And poor Michael Phelps.  She has an especially big crush on him (maybe she gets paid per interview, like how papparazi get paid per pic), and interrogated him for five minutes after his first gold medal win in the 400m Individual Medley about how he felt during the race, how he felt about winning, why he was so emotional about it, what emotions was he feeling, and on and on and on...  She reminds me a clingy high school sophomore girl who's in her first relationship and wants her boyfriend to explain to her in every possible language how much he likes her.  I have a malicious hope that after Phelps' last race, he picks her up and drops her in the dive pool.

Cheers... to the NBC graphics department who understands that most of us are tuning in each night to watch specific people perform, and we'd prefer to have time to go to the kitchen for a snack, etc., when the Bolivians and Pakistanis are competing in yet another qualifying race.  Watch closely, and you'll notice that occasionally a small TV set will appear in the lower right-hand corner advertising how many more minutes until Shawn Johnson competes on the floor exercises, or Misty May and Kerri Walsh play Baywatch, er, beach volleyball.  Bravo, NBC, bravo.