Witnessing a piece of Olympic history

You could feel the excitement in the air!

While standing there chanting “U.S.A.” with my hands raised to the sky, I recollected the day when the men’s swim team won the 400-meter medley relay which set a new world-record, thereby giving Mark Spitz yet another gold medal for a clean sweep in the aquatic events at the Summer Games of the Twentieth Olympiad held in Munich, West Germany in 1972.

Since splashing around in the water while soaking up the sun’s rays was one of my all-time favorite activities, swimming was this first grader’s preferred Olympic event, and the young mustached sports sensation was the best swimmer on the planet.

The 22-year-old became the first-ever athlete to win seven Olympic gold medals in a single Olympiad.

At the conclusion of the phenomenal accomplishment, the young man’s teammates hoisted him upon their shoulders and carried the distinguished champion around the Olympic size swimming pool for a well-deserved victory lap.

Standing before our black and white television set with the rest of my family watching the events unfold across the screen, I will never forget that feeling of national pride and unwavering patriotism welling up within my soul when the heroes of the day celebrated their hard-fought success.

Twelve years later, those same emotions were stirred up once again as this high school senior stood along the edge of the sidewalk on Lawrence Avenue with my boon companions shouting “U.S.A.” while holding up a sign bearing the acronym when a solitary relay runner carried the Olympic torch through the streets of Ellwood City on a cold, rainy day in May 1984.

After the nearly two-foot-long aluminum torch designed with a brass finish and leather handle began its journey in New York City, the 1984 Summer Olympics torch relay – sponsored by AT&T – meandered through a total of thirty-three states covering over nine thousand miles across the United States before entering the Coliseum in Los Angeles, California to begin the Games of the Twenty-third Olympiad at the end of July.

We were witnessing a piece of Olympic history!

“I have a totally gnarly idea,” announced Robert ‘Mags’ Magnifico as he pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. “Since it’s getting close to dinner time, why don’t we follow this caravan all the way to New Castle; and then we can stop at McDonald’s before making the trip back to town.”

“That sounds like a righteous plan,” observed Robert ‘Robbie’ Brough after letting us take a gander at the cassette tape in his jacket. “When you told me your dad already installed your tape deck player, I went out and purchased Synchronicity; so, we’ll have plenty of time to listen to the entire album.”

“Dude, I’m totally stoked,” I exclaimed while wrapping an arm around the redheaded baller on our way back to the gold Monte Carlo. “Ever since ‘Every Breath You Take’ became the number one song of 1983, I’ve been attempting to record all the songs from The Police’s latest album off the radio; but now I’ll get to listen to all of them thanks to your ingenuity.”

As Don Corleone backed away from his parking space near the municipal building, this threesome followed the lights and sirens of the numerous law enforcement vehicles in the sizable motorcade across the Fifth Street Bridge; after which we hung a right on to Line Avenue passing by a plethora of excited onlookers prior to heading toward the county seat.

Feeling like I was participating in an elaborate holiday parade, it would’ve been totally radical to have an assortment of candy inside our horseless carriage to disperse to all the tiny tots dotting the route.

However, playing the part of one of Santa’s little helpers in an ill-timed Christmas parade was all but forgotten as the last automobile in the caravan slowly trekked down Route 65 with the English rock band’s gnarly tunes emitting from the stereo system.

When my favorite song reverberated throughout the cabin, I began to beat on a set of imaginary drums in the back seat to keep time with skilled percussionist Stewart Copeland while belting out the words along with the lead vocalist – Sting – as my close-knit friends sitting in the front seat cringed from the ear-splitting noise.

You really can’t carry a tune in a bucket!

“Whateva,” I chuckled before reminding the dynamic duo about a conversation on the first day of school. “At the beginning of the year, I tried to tell you two songbirds that my voice sounds like a cat in a blender; but youns just rolled your eyes and kept yapping about me joining chorus.”

“Just be thankful that I didn’t heed your advice; otherwise, your precious little choir would’ve lost every single competition that you entered for the past three years,” I added with a tongue protrusion in the rearview mirror.

“Wait just a cotton-picking minute,” interjected Mags upon entering the outskirts of New Castle. “If you really sound that bad, why didn’t we ever hear those shrieks during musical rehearsals; because we practiced almost every day for three months and never heard that sound come out of your mouth.”

It’s called lip-syncing!

Shortly after entering the city limits, this off-key trio spotted the golden arches across the street from Shenango High School along the main thoroughfare as the Olympic torch relay pulled away when we entered the turning lane.

“I’m feeling extra hungry today,” teased Robbie with a sly grin splashed across his face while glancing over at the shady character behind the wheel. “Since you’re paying for our food, I might just have to order everything on the menu.”

“I’m not Daddy Warbucks,” snickered the Italian stallion as he pulled into the fast-food restaurant parking lot. “If the bill comes to more than twenty bucks, you’re gonna pony up the rest; otherwise, you just might be coughing up a lung.”

You better mind your manners, or the godfather will make us kiss his ring!