It was plenty cool the other night when Michael Phelps landed his eighth Olympic gold medal (with the help of three other guys whose names you probably already can’t remember, the poor slobs), but there was such an air of inevitability around the event that it honestly didn’t feel like much of a triumph, at least not to me. (My lack of engagement might have had something to do with the fact that I was watching the rebroadcast in the wee hours of the morning, but still, I’m trying to make a point here…)

Things were different last night when 16-year-old Shawn Johnson finally won her own gold medal on her last routine in the Beijing Games. I confess, I’ve developed something of a crush on this kid over the past few days. She comes across as confident and cheerful (unlike some of her fellow gymnasts, who sometimes seem as if it’s all they can do to keep their eyes from going all Bruce Banner-y), and gracious to boot (I was very impressed by an interview I heard a day or two back when she seemed perfectly happy with the three silver medals she scored earlier in the week, which the media was of course trying to depict as a crushing tragedy. I believe she said something to the effect of, “the silver ones are actually really pretty,” with no real hint of disappointment over not getting a gold one.) And then there’s that smile… to employ the old cliche, she lights up the whole stadium when she smiles. And she was really grinning last night when the results were announced. It was virtually impossible not to share her happiness and to feel a cathartic sense that, yes, sometimes things do work out the way they’re supposed to.

Now, if only I was 20 years younger so I didn’t feel quite so unseemly about thinking how damn cute she is…