was Olympic shotputter Brian Oldfield.
I hated sports growing up. So when my brother and sister got to go to the Oympic trials in Eugene, OR in 1975, I certainly wasn't jealous.
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
Inspired by the "Born This Way Blog" - BornThisWayBlog.com