So I wouldn’t consider myself to be a particularly athletic individual (save those uh, seven years of girls basketball that we don’t speak of), and I never even really get invested in the concept of other people playing sports, but last night, I reached some sort of fan-based catharsis. I cried. After watching the 3 ft. 6 mini humans clad in 90’s rhinestone-embellished leotards (a.k.a. women’s gymnastics), I finally settled in for the other sport I take interest in largely due to the competitors uniforms (or lack thereof): swimming.

But this time, with the athletes sporting various wetsuit-esque garments that covered, um, roughly 78% of their glorious physiques, I was forced to focus on the sport itself. And focus, I did. That men’s 4x100 freestyle relay was absolutely unbelievable, for probably three specific reasons, including the fact that a) the US beat the trash-talkin’ French b) they beat them by eight one-hundredths of a second c) it WASN’T Michael Phelps who secured the victory.

It’s not that I particularly have anything against Phelpsy, it’s just that his celeb status seems a little blown out of proprotion, especially in the context of last night’s relay�”for example, the COVER of the LA Times’ Olympics section featured Michael Phelps standing above Lezak, screaming in triumph (rippling muscles intact……ok I promise I’ll calm down). Anyways, Phelps IS a legitimate merman, but last night, I think credit should have been entirely given to his mortal teammate, Jason Lezak, who basically let Phelps get one step closer to his million dollar Speedo deal (and, I guess, that world record of 8 gold medals…yeah, that too).