Sport. Pure sport. Virginally pure sport. Eternally virginally pure sport. This man is lonely.

Genius often requires isolation. For everyone's sake, we hope no one ever befriends this man or speaks to him, because we would like to see the next Lonely Olympics in four years, by which time he can include volleyball because in our minds he will have grown into Tom Hanks from Cast Away. Before anyone gets snippy, we realize this guy actually has a friend with whom he makes videos, and they call themselves Mother's Best Child. We have also already erased that last sentence from our memory, because we are capable of suspending our disbelief; a necessity for watching the Olympics and ignoring the results we saw on the Internet. Now we're going to go watch Chariots of Fire, both because the theme song is stuck in our heads now and because we'd like to see the last time before this the Brits had any chance of winning at the Olympics.