Like many of you, I spent most of the past weekend elbow deep in a bag of Cheetos while watching the Olympics. "Ha ha ha ha ha!" I cackled, spraying cheese crumbs everywhere, while watching male gymnasts eat total shit on failed high bar maneuvers. "Not so pretty anymore, are you?" I shrieked, desperately hoping no one would know how incredibly, threateningly pretty I thought they still were.
But as I wallowed in confusing feelings and corn snacks, it occurred to me that, just perhaps, instead of the elite athletes, I was the one who was actually the loser. Thinking about it only hurt more; unlike these athletes, the only thing I've ever dedicated my life to is penis jokes, a skill that is unlikely to ever get me on a box of cereal. Not a good cereal, anyways.
"Cracked Brand Oated Wheat? Man, fuck you, Mom."
"Curse you, self-reflection!" I cursed, immediately longing for my home in the warm waters of self-delusion. Which is how I began wondering what it would take for me, a man-shaped beast, to win an actual Olympic medal myself. The final result being this list, a summary of the seemingly easiest Olympic events to win a medal in.
And yes, Olympians (who I imagine to be hanging around the Olympic Village reading Cracked), I understand that every Olympic event is incredibly, incredibly difficult. But certainly some of them are more difficult than others. Some of these sports look like they require "merely" a few years of training and a modest level of physical fitness, compared with, say, the lifetime of effort and freakish sport-specific X-Men bodies needed to succeed in others. I might lack the size 15 feet to be an Olympic-caliber swimmer, but I could probably figure out how a sailboat works.
Unless that needs math. Does it need math? Shit. OK, well, there are other choices ...
7Team-Based Sports (Soccer, Basketball, Field Hockey, Handball)
The idea here should be obvious. You somehow sneak your way onto a team of elite athletes, possibly via subterfuge, and then try to stay out of their way while they win the medal for you.
It's hard to tell from this picture, but the guy at the back there is smoking.
The very nature of large team-based sports requires teams to bring substitutes, who, if all goes according to plan, will never take off their warmup pants. For example, if you're the backup goaltender for a soccer team, I'm pretty sure your primary role is just cruising around the Olympic Village, trying to nail synchronized divers.
The downside to this plan, assuming you're not exceptionally good at subterfuge (not yet an Olympic event), is that managing to get even a substitute spot on a medal-potential team is extremely difficult. Being the second best goaltender in Brazil, for example, still involves a great deal of skill and fitness, which many of us, the non-Brazilians in particular, will probably have trouble coming up with.
I'm not going to dump on curling too much; I am actually a fan, or as much as someone who watches about two ends a year can call himself a fan. But this is another team-based sport, which requires substitutes, whose, if they're lucky, only duty during the games will be "keeping warm."
Substitute curlers almost never get to nail synchronized divers, for at least a couple reasons.
Yes, curlers, I know this game does require quite a bit of skill, and a lot of dreadful practice and effort to attain said skill. But it does not, as yet, require broad, Superman chests, or even the flower of youth. Although elite curlers' physical fitness has improved in recent years, this is still a sport that, at very high levels of competition, involves the regular consumption of booze.