was Olympic shotputter Brian Oldfield.
But then I saw the pictures they brought home. And there was a snap of a massive man, with a mop of blond hair, in tight Levis, walking into the crowd.
I don't know where the pic is now, but I remember Brian Oldfield's quads in those jeans, and his smile into the camera. And I quickly snatched that photo for my private "Pee-Chee" school notebook.
The family seemed concerned about me during those Olympics. Because I, who had never taken any interest in sports whatsoever, was suddenly fascinated by a certain shotputter. Of course, I told everyone how much I just loved Brian Oldfield.
The Catholic strategy of keeping sex at bay with silence completely failed. And no one remembered to tell me that crushing out on 70's, golden-haired brawny Gods was "wrong."
By the time my new obsession appeared in Sports Illustrated in a certain red white and blue singlet, the deed had been done. I was as sure of who I loved as certainly as my brothers were sure of their love of Farrah Fawcett!
Mark - Los Angeles, CA
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Inspired by the "Born This Way Blog" - BornThisWayBlog.com
1 comment:
Wow, I thought you hit the nail on the head with my thoughts exactly about Brian Kelly on your blog. We share the same feelings. Then I went on to scan to see who else you profiled on your blog:
Can you imagine that around the same time your family snapped a photo of Brian Oldfield, I was introduced to him and had to shake his sweaty hand as he was competing in Scottish games and had just completed a caber toss.
I actually recall how he smelled, let's just say he was not big on wearing deodorant (which personally I like a man to smell like a man till it gets a little too strong). He was wearing the traditional tank top with the stars and I think he had on a kilt. I could barely speak to say hello as I could not stop staring at his sweaty blond hair.
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