I've defined myself before by hate. Hate of Andrew Jackson, hate of Werner Heisenberg, definetly hate of The Wedding Date. What an awful movie. Would I define myself again by love? Yeah. Stephen Bradbury, you rock my world.

Besides being a symbol of the rather mundane and sometimes suicidal notion of never giving up no matter how high the odds are stacked against you, you inspire those of us that know that when it comes down to it, we are mediocre. You, obviously, are a highly talented athlete, but at the starting line of the 1000 meter short track finals you must have felt measured and wanting. Wanting, anyway. The measuring was to come, and how wonderfully inaccurate it was.

I didn’t see Miracle, but I know the title was totally bogus. Any religion that had as one of its basic tenets that the United States of America could only win an ice hockey game by the direct intervention of a supreme being via a manipulation of the laws of reality would not have many followers. Maybe if it was Trinidad it would be believable, because we all saw D2: The Mighty Ducks, and we all know Trinidad sucks. Now, I’m not saying that reality was bent to give Bradbury the gold, but I am saying that a large number of people all had to fall down at roughly the same time, and they did.

In conclusion, if your last name is Ohno, you can’t really expect to avoid disasters, can you?