I didn’t join up with Ravelympics in part because–well, we don’t even own a TV.
But last night we were visiting friends, and the friends’ kids wanted to watch Michael Phelps win his eighth gold: the TV got turned on. NBC was of course not saying when the swim meet was going to be shown–they weren’t about to let people TIVO it. We saw the Romanian woman break from the pack and get far, far ahead of the crowd of marathoners, and I was glad to see in the paper this morning that she did indeed win.
So I’m sure you all know all this already, and that you saw it while I only got to read about it: but. Phelps won his eighth, and when the reporter asked him how he felt about it, he answered, “I just want to see my mom.” And then he threw his arms around his cheering mom and sisters.
And in the interviews, he praised and thanked his teammates, saying he didn’t know them before they all arrived but they were a part of him forever now. He spoke like Randy Pausch, saying you could dream your dreams and make them happen, encouraging everybody else with his words in whatever dreams they might have. From everything I have read, he was gracious. He was grateful.
And he honored his mother first, in front of billions of people. He reached for his family’s loving arms for and in affirmation before the camera’s.
(And he’s from my home state of Maryland.)
The man is a bona fide hero.