Is there a need to Americanize Modern Olympics?

Allow me to explain.

American athletes have always been at a disadvantage to their foreign counterparts. An American athlete growing up in, say, Afton, Wyo., has limited access to such foreign activities as judo or tae kwan do. Yes, I know there are several martial arts studios teaching Wyoming kids martial arts and each is probably pretty good, so don’t be offended – especially if you have martial arts training. I’m simply pointing out that taking a karate class in a Wyoming strip mall is a far cry from growing up, say, in Japan where the entire culture has been saturated with martial artistry for centuries.

Hockey is similarly hard for Wyomingites, which is ironic considering we have nine months of winter. The problem is that all our hockey—quality ice is monopolized all winter long by ice—fishing derbies. Fencing, too, is difficult for Wyomingites because most of us assume it has to do with stringing barbed wire to keep our cattle out of trouble.

As Time Magazine reported recently, Wyoming has – per—capita – more athletes in the 2012 Olympic Games than any other state. This is no surprise. Surviving endless hurricane—force winds and the arctic deep freeze we call winter is an athletic act in itself. When it comes to the game of survival, Wyomingites beat Mother Nature every year – and she doesn’t make it easy.

Our cowboy heritage ensures that Wyoming athletes would do fine in equestrian events, and our mountainous terrain makes the Equality State a proving ground for the world’s greatest skiers. However, Wyomingites – and Americans in general – deserve more opportunities to challenge the world’s best athletes in more traditionally American activities.

Judging by the Americans I see at all—you—can—eat buffets and shopping mall food courts, competitive eating is a huge sport here in the United States and would be a great addition to the Olympics. True, it’s not an athletic activity in the traditional sense but the annual Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest at Coney Island in New York and the various watermelon—, pie— and corn—on—the—cob—eating contests at county fairs nationwide, make competitive eating something worthy of consideration. Not just anyone can eat like that.

With shows like “Man vs. Food,” “The Biggest Loser” and “Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition,” reality TV has turned eating responsibly and physical fitness into a game show, we might as well capitalize on it.

Because America already has a swollen, overweight leg up on the competition, let’s call irresponsible eating and not working out a sport. Our country has some of the world’s fattest kids, so sumo wrestling shouldn’t only be an Olympic sport but one that is promoted in U.S. high schools as a varsity sport. In either competitive eating or sumo wrestling, American kids would be unbeatable.

Demolition derby is another classic American sport in which we would literally crush the competition, and for a very simple reason. American cars are the biggest. A 1970 Ford Galaxie 500 will always beat a Daewoo. In fact, you could fit a Daewoo in its trunk.

If that seems unfair, fine. Let’s make it a Monster Truck contest. America’s Bigfoot will always beat its Daewoo equivalent. The only downside is that either Robosaurus or Megasaurus would frighten Japan’s athletes into a blind panic. I’ve seen how Japanese people react when Godzilla comes to town, so fire—breathing, car—eating dinosaur—shaped trucks could turn the Olympic Monster Truck rally into absolute bedlam.

If monster truck rallies and competitive eating aren’t the judges’ cup of tea, rodeo would be a classic addition to the Olympics. Wyoming’s cowboys and cowgirls would stand a better shot against their foreign competitors calf—roping, team—roping or barrel—racing than, say, ice skating against Norwegians or playing jai alai against Basque athletes.

If we can put a McDonalds in every nation on Earth, we can make the Olympics a little more American too. U.S. athletes will do well in London next month, but I won’t rest until we’ve won a gold medal in every Olympic event there is – and even in a few there aren’t.