I had a choice:  see the women's hoop team play or see the men play.

Oddly, and completely out of character, I chose the men.

Without question, American women have garnered a lot of respect on international playing fields in the last decade or so.  Softball.  Soccer.  Basketball. At my first Olympics, Atlanta, 3,700 women participated.  For the Americans, Atlanta marked the ultimate collective effort, as they brought home team gold in basketball, softball, soccer, and gymnastics, not to mention their success on the track and in the pool.  Much was made about this coming-of-age moment for those who grew up under Title IX.  Much was made about how the United States was the place to be for girls who liked to sweat.

In Athens, of the 10,864 athletes, 4,412 are women - just over forty percent.  For the Americans, 258 of the 536 athletes are women, almost fifty percent.  And their global dominance continues.  Softball gold is already secured.  Gymnastics team silver and all-around gold are in hand.  Water polo bronze - done.  And just minutes before I began to write this, the U.S. women charged across the soccer pitch to take gold over the Brazilians, 2-1 in extra time. (And on behalf of a lot of folks, thank you, Mia Hamm, for leading the greatest team the United States has ever produced.  Thank you for every single one of your 154 goals in 267 international games.  Thank you Julie Foudy.  Thank you Kristine Lilly.  Thank you Brandi Chastain.  Thank you Joy Fawcett.  And thank you Briana Scurry.  You will be missed.  But Abby Wambach and Lindsay Tarpley - and others -- will continue what you helped start.)

But still, when faced with the opportunity to see the American women face Greece on Wednesday or see the American men face undefeated Spain on the basketball court today, I chose the men.  I have seen the U.S. women play in the Olympics:  I have seen them win gold, I have been one among thousands cheering them on.  But this time, I wanted to be an American (at a game dominated since its beginning by Americans) and hear the booing, the hissing, the whistling

It came.  But rather undeservedly.  For all the flack these guys have gotten, these post-Dream Teamers, they were good.  The U.S. knocked in 12 three-point shots, broke 100 points for the first time in this tournament, showed a lot of heart and a lot of passion, and they won.  Stephon Marbury came alive, setting a U.S. Olympic men's record with 31 points.  Allen Iverson, as cool on the court as I have ever seen him, added 16 points, and despite stunning play by NBA Memphis Grizzlies standout Pau Gasol, the dominant Spanish team fell.

And for about an hour, I became an ugly American, cheering amidst a sea of Spanish red and gold, cheering as boos filled the arena every time the U.S. scored.  I have hopes for this team.

I have hopes that they will represent the United States as well as the women do.