Man Tries to Win Gold Medal.Fails.
If like me you’ve been watching the Olympics over the past week, you’ll have been impressed by the myriad of talented athletes, in all of the disciplines.
A week before the event started in Beijing I had itchy feet and wished I was good at a sport. I had a rummage around online to find something to do, that would win me that gold medal I think I deserve…
Not normally an easy task, I agree, however, to add to the difficulty curve, I had five things to remember.
1. Whatever I decided to do needed to be relatively cheap (we’re in the midst of a credit Crisis after all)
2. Whatever I decided to do would have to involve my fianc?. (I didn’t feel like having a sleeping on the couch crisis after all)
3. And whatever I decided to do would involve not running around (were in the middle of an obesity crisis after all)
4. It needs to be something I can learn with ease. (I’m in the midst of a no-real-talent crisis after all)
5. I need to be able to easily defeat my fianc? at all costs. (a man-up crisis would have to be avoided….um….after all?)
So armed with the knowledge of all the above, I searched for days to fi…ok, I searched for hours to fi… ok, I searched for precisely 12 minutes to find if there is a sport that I can achieve all of the above.
And then I found it. In my head I created a master plan: I’d train for around the same amount of time as it takes to cook a PopTart, I’d order a super saver train ticket to London for 2012 ( if I book now, much cheapness) , and I’ll come back with a gold medal around my neck…for Archery.
Solid plan right? We’ll you’d think so. I took myself and my lady to our local archery club: a large barn in the middle of nowhere and this is where I began to realise just how much I suck at all sport.
On the way I made the school boy error of telling her how much I’ll ?kick her ass’, and that ?if I can aim at the TV with the remote, I can hit a giant board with a pointy stick’. Playing it cool was not an option.
The guy who was training us asked me right away, ?why are you here?’ I replied that I think that I’d be good, and that it always looked quite easy, to which he smiled/grimaced in a way that would terrify Freddy Krueger…
After a few minutes of showing us all the parts of a bow and arrow (plus a few more for sniggering at the words ?shaft’ and ?cock’: regular terms in archery apparently) we stepped up to the line, and my brain started doing overtime: ?this bows quite heavy,’ I said to myself, looking up at the target… ‘and that big round target that fills the TV screen at the Olympics, looks damn tiny from this massive distance’. “Exactly how far away is the target?” I asked, panicking slightly. “20 metres”, he replied, “but if you want to win the Olympics its 75″
“S##T”
My missus, takes her first shot, and hits the board (which is about 5 feet square) but not the target in the middle (about 2 foot wide), in a bout of over confidence I laugh, but inside my mind is thinking “%&*?$%$ ^%$?&^& ?$%?&)&^$”.
I let loose, all my earlier confidence shooting away with the arrow, only for it to completely miss the whole thing - even the huge backboard - and land somewhere in the back. I look toward my missus to see a cloud of smug forming over her head. Great.
This lesson lasted a full embarrassing hour. I did get better, I hit the board a few times, but my Olympic gold is far away. My fianc? however was bloody brilliant: hitting though target repeatedly, making the drive home unbearably painful, I felt like when I was six and I went to touch the hot oven, my mum said ?that’ll hurt’, but I did it anyway, and yes, it hurt like hell.
So in conclusion, I failed. And most disappointingly I failed number 5. If anything this has taught me that to win an Olympic medal, you have to be phenomenal at your chosen discipline, but if they ever start channel flicking events, I’m there.
