So it begins. The inevitable downfall of America’s hero, swimmer Michael Phelps. So quickly, too, we never saw it coming. Michael Phelps, a stoner? Apparently so. And with all his endorsement money, he can afford all the weed he wants to smoke.
Not that anyone cares. He’s still Michael Phelps, winningest Olympian in history, American hero. So we’ll gloss this over, pretend it never happened, accept Phelps’s apology, and move on. Everyone gets one.
But it will happen again. He may not get caught sucking on his bong next time, but for every rise there is a fall, and the bar is set so high for Phelps that his fall will likely be steep. In three-and-a-half years, at the next Olympiad, Phelps will be hard-pressed to match his haul of eight gold medals from 2008, though that won’t stop the press from hyping his quest. The downfall will spawn an epic E! True Hollywood Story years from now, and one day we’ll remember Phelps in the same breath as the likes of Leif Garrett and Tatum O’Neal.
It’s a sad day in sports. “Michael Phelps, Pothead” is now a reality and we finally have our answer to the question we’ve all been dying to know. What fuels a 12,000 calorie-a-day diet? The munchies.