by Micah Tillman

Can you imagine a journalist being as chummy with his subjects as Chris Collinsworth was with Deborah Phelps at the men's 200m freestyle?

Surely you saw it. The joking. The holding. The celebrating.

The tension between sports journalism and journalism proper has been thick since last Friday: Russia invades Georgia during the Opening Ceremonies held by, of all countries, China.

Should the announcers and reporters bring in politics? And if so, how? And how often? Of whom should they be critical? Whom should they laud?

And why is President Bush posing for photos with bikini-clad females and doing an interview with Bob Costas — without even blushing?

Don't get me wrong. I love Bob Costas. It will be a dark day when he retires.

But isn't it all a little weird, just the same?

Politics has always been a part of the Games (at least in the modern incarnation), I suppose. There's the "parade of nations" to begin, the competing in flag-labeled uniforms during, the playing of national anthems after.

And there's always been something confused about it: "Let's celebrate world-harmony by competing against each other and defending our national honor."

But I like it. It makes the mind tingle to live through such tensions for two weeks every two years.

But the Olympian mix of sport and politics is especially volatile given the fact that regionalistic thinking can be so dangerous in latter, even while being sporting in the former.

It's perfectly okay to claim you're a winner because of what nine guys you've never met did in a game you weren't at. And it's perfectly okay to call your friends losers because their hometown teams have worse records than yours.

It's even de rigueur to call everyone else a loser simply because their favorite teams aren't yours (whether they're actually worse or not).

People laugh, taunt, and have a good time. Even with strangers they "hate."

So, sport is like a Disney slasher flick. It brings the family and community together while creating a little excitement through villains who pose no real danger.

But contrast all this with what happens when people start to blame others for what people they've never met, may not like, and might have been born years after did.

"You invaded my country." "We saved your country." "They hit us on 9/11." "When are we leaving Iraq?"

99% of the world's people have never "invaded," "saved," "hit," or "occupied" anything. Other than another team's "house," a "game," a "ball," or a "position," perhaps.

So while the slinging-about of blame and glory is the sugar and spice of sports, it's dangerous to the nth degree in politics.

Yet all the "my country is the best in the world" stuff one tends to hear from people everywhere never bothered me.

If you don't think your country is the best, there's something terribly wrong (just like there's something wrong if you hate your hometown team).

Everyone, it seems to me, has the God-given right to live in the world's best country. And if they don't think they do occupy such a place, then that's cause for mourning.

After all, nobody would be bothered by "Your Mom" jokes if they all began, "My mom is so awesome. . . ." To be so blessed as to live in a place (or to have a mother) you think is "tops" — as the Brits say — is a wonderful thing. And it should be celebrated.

The real question is: what attitudes are really proper where?

Regionalism in sport is viewed on the model of war. And I think we can all agree that that's fine (even, perhaps, good), so long as sport doesn't turn into actual war.

Regionalism on the national level, however, is more sticky. But if you view it on the model of sport, nationalism can be just fine too. That would be my claim.

Where to draw the lines in the journalisms which cover all these issues is another question. Isn't there something good and right about the Collinsworth-Phelps connection? And yet isn't there something also good and right about "detached" sports reporting?

How much should the sub-areas of journalism be viewed on the model of science or politics reporting? And how often do political reporters confuse themselves with sports journalists?

And where exactly do those of us who blog and write articles fit into the picture? Are we allowed to be Collinsworths, or do we have to be um . . . [insert "detached"/"objective" journalist's name here, if you can think of one]?

In other words, are we allowed to be regionalist haters, so long as we keep it sporting? ("The online publication that posts my articles is better than the one that posts yours!")

Micah Tillman (micahtillman.com) is a lecturer in the School of Philosophy at The Catholic University of America.