Proud to be an American.

Chapter 1: Sports and America.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve loved even-numbered years — because I absolutely love the Olympics. They combine my two truest boyhood passions: sports and America.

I was a sports-obsessed little Pittsburgh kid. When I was nine, I won a contest at a local video rental store ahead of Super Bowl XXX by correctly identifying the first points the Steelers ever scored in a Super Bowl as a safety. Before I even entered junior high, I’d been to several dozen Penn State football games with my dad, and probably about a dozen wrestling meets. I can still name the four Pittsburgh Penguins who won gold medals with the Czech Republic at the 1998 Nagano Olympics (Jaromir Jagr, Martin Straka, Jiri Slegr, and Robert Lang) as well as each of their Pittsburgh jersey numbers (68, 82, 71, 20). I was star-struck when I got to be a ball boy for a Team USA soccer game in Hershey, PA, and actually got to feed Mia Hamm the ball for a throw-in.

I was also a very patriotic youngster. My first favorite toy was a puzzle map of the United States. In third grade, I cried in class when they showed us a video about Arlington National Cemetery that ended with a montage set to Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” In fourth grade, I went through a serious American flag phase, as seen below in the background and attire I freely chose for our school pictures.

A part of me still enjoys those boyhood interests today. I coach the University of Vermont’s men’s ultimate frisbee team in my “spare time,” while in my day job with Tangle I’m elbow-deep, every day, in U.S. politics. But as I got older, those interests became a little more hued and complicated with experience. I went from using athletic feats to push me to be the best version of myself, as an athlete, to reflecting on how these achievements could inspire me to be a better leader. My sense of patriotism became even more complicated. Your concept of a nation can become all tangled up with your idea of governance, and then confused further with how people you disagree with exalt ideals you don’t share. For me, what “America” means and what the flag symbolizes became piled under layers and layers of complexity. I still love America. I still love the flag. But it’s hard not to express that without being at least a little ironic. For example, here’s the most recent picture I have of myself posing with an American flag, taken ten years ago.

America and sports. Dogs, too, but this is a story about the uncomplicated, childish sincerity I still feel about those two things. And then every even-numbered year, I get license to express the sincere boyish love I feel for both of those without worrying if I’ll come across as naive or ironic.

Chapter 2: The glory of Alysa Liu.