I am covering the Olympics for Slate this year, and, as such, it's my job to know what happens at the Games as soon as it happens. No waiting for the tape-delay broadcast for me; I wake at 4 a.m. to watch archery and stay in front of the screen until the sun sets on the British Isles. What this means is that I have personally spoiled at least seven people's enjoyment of the Olympics by blabbing prematurely about who won what event. "Did you see that Michael Phelps came in fourth?" I ask. "No, you jerk, and thanks for ruining it for me.