Swimming is one of the few Olympic sports that everyone has attempted at some point. Who hasn't timed themselves in a 100 free, only to realize that an elite swimmer would be in the car on his way home by the time we finish.

In the 200 IM, Phelps simply motored ahead of everyone. This isn't a small college meet, where you might have one top athlete who wins everything... this is the Olympics with athletes from all over the world who have spent 1,000 collective years in training, and Phelps wins by a full body length.

Michael Phelps is obviously in a class by himself, just like Ian Thorpe or Steve Redgrave. To me, they seem blessed with a 12 cylinder engine (while the rest of us mere mortals are lucky to have 8 cylinders). Add to that massive engine, a killer work ethic, years of experience, no bad luck. Finally, they possess a bullet-proof winner's psyche, which really comes in handy on race day.

When they handed out the bouquet of flowers to the medalists, you could imagine each guy thinking: "Great, what the hell do I do with these? Ebay? Re-gifting?"

I have an idea. Instead of flowers, give the guys a big sharp spear. "Cool... I've been wanting a big sharp spear." The bronze medalist would immediately stab the silver medalist, just a surface wound, probably in the ribs, to test the thing out. "Yep, it's sharp." Or better yet, give them a choice of four things on a tray. And they all choose at exactly the same time: Omega Seamaster OM-19 watch (replica, of course... got to keep the costs under control), or new 160 gig IPod, or a sharp spear, or they could choose the wild card, the inevitable, the always tempting small red box... inside might be the keys to a Aston Martin DB9 or it could be a gift certificate to Tosco's Ice Cream or a coupon for 50% off teeth whitening. Then we'd see which athletes were the real risk takers. From swimming, I walked a few miles to the Beijing Science and Technology Institute to watch Judo. Along the way I saw a fellow Westerner fawning over the small red scooter. Turns out he had just bought the thing... an electric-powered scooter, street legal, 50 mile range... for $500. The man was from Melbourne, Australia. I asked him if he knew Andy Cannon, the legendary rower, sailor, race car driver, gas station attendant and adventurer. The man said he knew Andy, but only by reputation. I was surprised since Andy knows pretty much everybody, and Melbourne is his home town.

Judo is one of those sports that I probably wouldn't watch if not for the Olympics. The Open Weight competition was held on Friday, heats, reps and finals, all crammed into one glorious day. To speed things up during the early rounds, two matches were held at the same time on adjacent mats. This often made for odd, disjointed cheering from the crowd of somewhat inebriated, swarthy looking Eastern Europeans, beer being served at the venue along with just about nothing else. Each bout is five minutes long, which is just about right amount of time for the opponents to get to know each other fairly intimately. A match can end before five minute if a match-ending throw is successfully completed. A match can also go longer than five minutes if no points are scored during the first go 'round.

The women competitors (+78 kilos), might have taken one pass too many through the buffet line. Their biggest opponent appeared to be gravity.

The open weight men (+100 kilos) looked like second-tier bouncers from some back alley Moscow nightclub, The Iron Fist. The Judo venue should probably be checked for radiation. I felt bad for the American guy, who, in his repechage, was nearly broken in half by Iran's version of Andre the Giant.

The ritual of Judo is well worth the price of admission. It's a remarkably patient sport; the match does not commence until both players are poised at exactly the right place, their jacket or gui neatly arranged and tucked under their belt. The referee stands mute and unsmiling between the two... then a quick raising of his hand, and he jumps out of the way, quick as a cat.

Most of the fighting appears to revolve around achieving just the right grip on the lapels of one's opponent's gui. One guy gets a grip... the other guy slaps it away. Repeat about 157 times. Finally one guy will get a decent grip, then trip his opponent, then crush him under his weight, then choke the life out of him. Doesn't get much better than that.

I wonder if the IOC, on its misguided, ill-fated mission of trying to keep the Games modern (with such brilliant additions as BMX demolition derby, which I don't recall anyone lobbying for) will put Mixed Martial Arts in and take Judo out. I can imagine the MMA federation saying, "Hey, you get rid of those jammies, make the ring an 8-sided affair, add a bucket of blood, and the ratings will go through the roof."

The world is big enough for the Olympic Games and for the X Games. Just leave it at that. And while you're at it, bring back the pair-with coxswain. There is a modern day Conn Findlay wandering around, searching in vain for his event.