RIO DE JANEIRO -- If the Olympics should introduce the sport of fugitive swimming for the Tokyo Games in 2020, I'll have to make room for an 11th event in the reporter's decathlon. The judging can be a little harsh, but the face time on NBC is awesome.
This was Part I of this silly biennial exercise, and what follows is Part II:
TENNIS
Olympic Tennis Centre
Yeah, I know. Why tennis, right?
It's not a real Olympic sport, as one hears a lot in regard to anything we tend to watch in non-Olympic settings.
Well, in addition to tennis' venue being for the first time front and center at a Games, as the elegantly colorful heart of Olympic Park ...
... I respect that the world's best players respected these Games enough to show. So Novak Djokovic and Venus and Serena Williams were wiped out, stunningly, almost immediately. Big whoop. They did right by their countries and their sport. They even hung around after elimination to cheer on others.
Tennis has been embraced by the Olympics ever since its return for Seoul in 1988, and the Games have embraced right back.
The same can be said for the NBA and NHL players. And those in professional soccer.
Golf, it shouldn't surprise anyone, turned up its nose at the sport's first Olympics in 112 years. Two dozen players declined chances to compete for gold medals and their national fans, including the top four players in the world.
Some cited the Zika virus. They knew better. Everyone did. It's winter here. The mosquitoes who transmit the virus aren't around. That's why there have been exactly zero new Zika cases in Rio during these two weeks.
The real reason is that, in another huge surprise, golfers got greedy and went after meaningless weekend tournaments with guaranteed prize money.
Kick them out. All of the golfers. The whole sport. They can choose country club over country in 2020 and spare everyone the embarrassment.
Man, that wasn't about tennis at all, was it?
Anyway, it's wonderful to see a truly global sport, as tennis always has been, fitting right in. Feels right.
Of the handful of gold-medal events I've been able to witness as they happened, not one was more overcome with emotion, both good and bad.
And not just because of the inherent anxiety in avoiding becoming shish kebab.
On one hand, there was the uplifting story of Brazil's Thiago Braz da Silva reaching the height of his life at 6.03 meters with the backing of the vocal faithful inside the rain-soaked stadium. And when his back landed on that mat ... man, that was magic. People leaped, roared, danced, chanted ... and the young vaulter did all that and more.
"My hometown wanted me to win," he'd recall poetically.
Then there was the French defending champion, Renaud Lavillenie, who didn't like hearing the whistles of the crowd as he was getting set to vault.
Whistles are boos in most of the rest of the world. But my Lord, listen to this whiner go.
Oh, wait. His next shared wound was an all-timer.
Dude, get a grip. It's not like anyone here was wooing.
At the same stop, some very large women made some very loud noises.
This is how it goes in a few of the field events, and it never stops intriguing me. The athlete cradles the discus under the throwing hand, whirls through her revolution, releases ... and then screams.
That's a cheap video shot off TV during the London Games, but that's the best I could find as a sample. The scream isn't during the motion. And it isn't even just after. That thing is already long gone by the time Darya Pischchalnikova decides that she's really Bill Bixby in a bad mood.
I mean, what does this do?
The thing's already gone. It's in the air, now very on autopilot. The scream won't achieve anything other than maybe frightening any French pole vaulters nearby.
I get the screaming in other situations. Monica Seles and other tennis stars have screamed upon serving. But that comes in conjunction with racquet meeting ball, not after the ball's hopelessly beyond the net.
So I finally got around to asking someone about this, a journalist from Pakistan, and, impressively, he didn't seem overly annoyed.
This was the answer, condensed: The athlete feels a tremendous buildup of energy, whether it's the discus, shot put, hammer or any throwing event. Knowing that the scream is part of their routine only heightens the energy in the actual throw, so when it's done they've obviously got to let out the scream or they were simply lying to themselves.
For example, right now, I'm preparing to scream like a banshee ablaze at the end of this column.