I won't pretend I've much been into the Olympics this year -- it feels like I followed them intently during my childhood years, but checked out around the age of 18, and I wonder if that’s a natural development for many kids. But there was really no question that I’d be getting up this Sunday morning to watch the Americans compete against the Canadians in a gold medal hockey game. (Sorry, God! See you next week!)

Not because I hate the Canadians, mind you -- it’s impossible to hate a nation so cuddly and harmless -- but because I love the ...

© National Review