Dear America,

Yesterday was sort of entertaining, no?

What comes just before bronze?  Whatever it is, that's what Chicago got.
Who took home the gold?  That would be dancing on the sand, Rio, baby.

There was just something in the way he moved.

He just looked so dejected, so sad.
He came to the podium a half hour earlier than expected, getting a jump on the scheduled four o'clock pow wow with reporters; apparently, just itching to get it over with as soon as possible.
He looked wrecked, defeated; almost like he was ready to cry or something.
He dribbled about at the microphone...bouncing from the bad news about his hometown to more bad news about jobs and even more bad news about the team in Afghanistan, and all that's at stake to pull off a win there.

I can't put my finger on it really.
It was just different.

It was like he lost his mojo; the wind was out of his sails; the look was like he lost for the very first time (oh my gosh, maybe it was).

Sure, it may be jet lag, there is that.  What, with running around like he does, it was just a matter of time before he needed to stop and take a breath.  It's not like he really is superman, or something.  He is only human.

It must be hard reaching out to the world, making such a personal plea to the world to come over and play and be turned down.  Can you imagine that?

Especially after all the hard work in the last several months setting up the play; he did all the right things,you would think, in convincing the world that America deserved it's faith and trust and would be more fun to play with from now on.

For HE -- would be different.

And his game plan, was all about putting down the old coach and worn out strategies, and illuminating to the world we have a brand new ball game -- and don't you just love  me , I mean us, now.

Ahhh duuuude.
Sorry man.  Can I get you a cold one, cuz you sure look like you need it; but don't you know, there is no "I" in team; and any real player knows the ugly truth of learning that one.

But there he was, standing at the podium, all pouting and shit; he could hardly follow along on his own train of thought.  Did you see that?

I think it displays something deeper; and you may not agree with me, but I'm going to take it there anyway, just the kind of mood I'm in today...

I think, given that in this moment we watched our guy truly lose at something --when playing with the big boys that is -- our little globetrotter showed us a side to our coach we have never seen before; nor do we ever want to see again.

He wasn't strong in posture.  He wasn't firm in conviction.  He wasn't even close to acting like a coach at half time trying to pull the team together; and hardly acting like the leader of the free world (he does know that, right?).  More important, he acted like he didn't even recognize himself.

In this moment of great loss -- over an Olympic bid, no less -- his true colors were showing.  And it was not pretty.

It was a dodge ball moment; the first one to get the blow to your windpipe, and he was down and out.

It was kind of like there he was, having humbly asked the world to play with him, and they said "no".

Truth is, it was his fault for making it way too personal to begin with; for then, in the end, how can you not think the rejection is all about you.  Last pick on the team, or no pick at all, is a sorry position for anyone to be in, let alone the President of the United States.

All I got to say is, I'm sure not looking forward to watching him cower in defeat on behalf of the home team, if something else doesn't go our way.   Talk about humiliation.

I mean, as a kid, I knew deep in my heart, America was great.

I knew deep in my heart, America rushed in to save the day every day of the week, no questions asked; and I felt good about that.

As a kid, I stood up, proud in class with my hand over my heart, pledging allegiance to the flag and the country for which is stands.

As a kid, I thought the world "thought the world of us" even sitting in my own back yard, in probably the smallest town in America.  I felt it, deep in my heart. 

Makes me cry...I know, I know, I cry a lot;  but what's a girl to do?

I am hoping our leader had a good cry, alone in his room perhaps; and comes back out ready to play.

I mean, come on man, buck up buttercup. 
The team's got a long way to go and you can't lose faith so soon; and even if you do have doubts about what you are doing, having trouble finding the basket, keeping the moral up and the team pumped, or just plain pissed off that something didn't go your way, know this:

Everything you do, in front of the world and off the court, we watch; all eyes are upon you.

We may not win all our games, but that doesn't diminish the fact that we are all winners.

America is a winner, no matter what;  and true Americans get that.

If you take time out in your busy schedule to attend a Special Olympic's tournament, you might get a better grip on this concept.

Happy Saturday, America!
Let's win one for the gipper today.

Make it a Good Day, G

Oh yes, a big shout out to my number one brother, Christopher Todd xx
A Special Olympian for nearly 30 years -- taking home the gold, silver and bronze, it didn't really matter did it kiddo -- both in skiing and swimming xx
Yo Dude x  I love you!