Michael Phelps is America in Beijing

After the men's beach volleyball match between the Phil Dalhausser/Todd Rogers American team and a Swiss team ended around 10:15, I thought I was going to bed.  I was bone-tired, and I couldn't wait to hit the hay.

But I watched Michael Phelps compete in the 100m Butterfly Final instead.  Because of the fact that I watched the race, something I never anticipated happened. 

Phelps started out kind of slow.  A Serbian swimmer by the name of Cavic glided through the water for the first 50 meters, and Phelps couldn't catch up.  Phelps kept Cavic on a short leash, but he could never quite pull even with him. 

As Cavic and Phelps turned back toward the starting side of the pool after the first 50 meters, Cavic was still a half-body length ahead of Phelps.  This wasn't the Michael Phelps I had heard so much about.  Anxiety started to rise in my chest, and I scooted up to the edge of my seat.  My brother, a big Olympic swimming fan who was watching the race with me, did the same. 

At 75 meters, Phelps had closed the gap between he and Cavic some, but he was still behind a foot or two. 

The final 25 meters resulted in the single closest finish I've ever seen in sports.

As far as the 90-meter mark, Phelps was still a foot or two behind Cavic.  My brother and I were both completely transfixed by what we were witnessing.  It looked like Michael Phelps, the great American swimmer who was expected to win eight gold medals in eight events in these Olympics, was going to lose. 

History would stand, a couple of the most prestigious Olympic and world swimming records would live to see another day, and Phelps would be a disappointment to the entire country despite his still-absolutely-amazing run.

Then the most incredible thing I've ever seen any athlete do happened.  In the last 10 meters or so, Phelps closed the gap between he and Cavic completely as he pulled even.  As the two swimmers matched each other stroke for stroke, I was one with millions of other Americans—breathlessly entranced by just how close the race was. 

Then it was over.  Michael Phelps had beaten Cavic by a hundredth of a second.  Phelps' time was 50.18, Cavic's time 50.19.  It was incredible, and, without a doubt, the single most exciting finish I've ever seen in sports.  Granted, Phelps didn't set a world record—only an Olympic record (geez, it's amazing that he's so good that anything except a gold medal and a world record is a letdown)—but I didn't care about records.

Before the race started, I was just an American teenage boy who put off going to sleep so he could watch the great Michael Phelps swim for another gold medal and take another step toward making Olympic history.  

After the first fifty meters, I was rooting for Phelps as hard as I had ever rooted for any of my past or current favorite sports teams—the Duke Blue Devils, Atlanta Braves, Carolina Panthers, Charlotte Hornets, Charlotte Bobcats, and Carolina Hurricanes.  For thirty seconds, I became a diehard Michael Phelps fan.  I lived and breathed with his every stroke. 

Phelps transcends swimming.  He's a force of unity.  He's bonded all Americans together for one reason: to root for him and watch him go down in Olympic history as the greatest swimmer to ever compete in the Olympics.  Nothing besides our collective group of athletes can do that.  But even then, we root for Phelps on a much more intense level than we root for any of our other athletes.   

No other athlete—or team—has ever made me get behind him (or them) as much as I got behind Michael Phelps for a few seconds tonight.  And after his last historical race, I doubt it will ever happen again.  But that's why he's Michael Phelps.  He isn't just the best and most famous, beloved swimmer in the United States, and he doesn't just transcend swimming.  For this brief time during the Olympics, he is America in Beijing.