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The Olympics have finally come to an end and if you're one of the lucky few who work in a sports newsroom, the finality of the greatest event in athletics couldn't come soon enough.

It has nothing to do with the controversies or the endless hours of coverage, but more to do with my friends and colleagues who were covering the games. Every time they talked about their experience you would think they were stationed in Baghdad instead of Athens.

But then again, that's one of the many attractive traits of being a sports reporter; we have the uncanny ability to make any good situation seem like the absolute worst. Some reporters at the Olympics even took time out of their busy days to write about how miserable their hotels were, how bad the food was and how long the lines were. I'm sure that's exactly what Joe Fan wants to read. He can't wait to follow the epic saga of so-and-so reporter who got an all-expense paid trip to Athens for so-and-so publication and how they can't stand the number of other reporters who are also there trying to talk to so-and-so athlete. I'm sure most everybody's response would be like mine: so-and-so what?

Being a sports fan and listening to a reporter complain about being at the Olympics is almost as bad as being at a Jenny Craig meeting and listening to Paris Hilton convince herself that she needs to lose weight.

Now my colleagues don't have a specific dislike for the Olympics. No, their disdain for all major events is pretty balanced. Ask any seasoned journalist what he thinks of covering the Super Bowl, the Final Four or any All-Star game and you could sit for hours listening to his plight. My response is usually akin to that scene in Swingers when Rob reacts to Mike complaining about his career, "You're telling me that your life sucks, then mine must be god awful."

Maybe someday I'll get to the point where I despise being sent to a foreign country, staying in a nice hotel, indulging in exotic foods, talking to world-class athletes and writing stories for the masses back home. In the meantime, I'll just imagine how terrible it must be.

Week Sauce

Lets open up the bottle and pour out the week that was.

FRIDAY: Americans across the country, still recovering from the disappointment over Iraq's failure to capture the gold in men's soccer, rejoice after Team USA's loss to Argentina in the semifinal of the men's basketball tournament. Americans haven't taken this much pleasure in watching their own be humiliated on a global stage since John Travolta made Battlefield Earth.

SATURDAY: After being ruled ineligible to play college football by the NCAA, former USC receiver Mike Williams receives the sympathy of the entire sports world and consoles himself by watching USC squeak past Virginia Tech in the season opener. Thankfully, he did not fly to the Bahamas on a private plane to take his mind of the game as he did during the NFL Draft. If he had, we all would have really felt bad for him.

SUNDAY: While at the MTV Video Music Awards in Miami, Shaquille O'Neal promised he would bring a championship to South Beach next season. Many watching the festivities at home weren't sure which was more ridiculous, Shaq's bold prediction or P. Diddy's weak attempt at a Mr. T mohawk.

MONDAY: Paying homage to former WWE champion The Rock, Serena Williams wears knee-high black wresting boots to open the U.S. Open as she defeats Sandra Kleinova. Here's hoping that Maria Sharapova will bust out the leopard skin tights in honor of Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka before the end of the tournament.

TUESDAY: Manchester United, in an attempt to stop Arsenal, who haven't lost a game in the English top flight since Bobby Charlton was playing, signs Wayne Rooney away from Everton. No word yet if Sir Alex Ferguson will have as much of a problem with Rooney's fiancé, model Colleen McLoughlin, as he did with Posh Beckham. If he does, watch out for the flying boot, Rooney.

WEDNESDAY: Following the NBA's lead this summer of giving away more fist fulls of cash than Regis Philbin and Alex Trebek combined, the Portland Trailblazers sign Darius Miles to a six-year, $48 million contract. Word is the Blazers were impressed that the usually shy Miles worked hard to adapt to his new environs and win over his teammates after he was caught on tape being roughed up by police this summer. 

Obligatory List of the Week

Our weekly six-pack, brought to you this week by Hair of the Dog Adam (Portland, Ore.), gives us the Top 6 Signs That You're Not Qualified To Be An Olympic Judge.

6. When you are questioned about your credentials as a judge you ignore the query, pop a Mentos in your mouth and say you stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night.

5. You stroll in five minutes before your event begins, turn to your fellow judges and say, "So, what do we got today?"

4. You round up or down your score depending on how well your vacation went the last time you visited a competing athlete's country.

3. You often find yourself shaking your head and bragging to no one in particular that you could do better if you ever worked out.

2. You double as a Las Vegas fight judge and refer to Don King as your boy.

1. You judge each athlete on their attire and hairstyle rather than their performance, often saying, "Don't even get me started," while rolling your eyes and handing in your score before the end of the routine.

What ever happened to...

...Steve Walsh? You know, the last great University of Miami quarterback to lead the Dallas Cowboys to mediocrity before grandpa Vinny inevitably leads them straight out of playoff contention. Walsh was last seen completing seven passes, nine if you count his two interceptions, for the Indianapolis Colts in 1999.