So long, Sochi

So by now, you’ve had a day or so to consider whether or not the end of the Winter Olympics has left a void in your life or left a feeling just like the aftermath of a bad burrito.

Some of you, I know, watched every minute of competition for 17 days. To you, I say congratulations on an incredible sense of dedication, love of sport and perhaps a real patriotic zeal. There is also a strong possibility you need to call eHarmony as soon as you possibly can.

I must confess that more than any other athletic event — and I include Jai Alai and croquet here — I consider the Winter Olympics to be filled with language and terminology that is as cryptic as a WWII code book.

For years, I have been frustrated by my inability to identify either a triple axel or a lutz jump. And now the snow sadists added an event called ski slopestyle, where competitors “zero spin” and “triple cork.”

Oh, sure — in four years, I’ll watch the Korean Winter Olympic Games, but meanwhile, I’ll just relax with terms like “nose guard” and “side out.”

I’m Pat McMahon.

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