Over the past few weeks, some of my siblings have done a great deal of genealogy research. We have found out many details about relatives on both my mother and father’s sides of the family.

While I really enjoy learning where I come from, none of the research has turned up the most important thing right now.

I still have no idea how to easily qualify for citizenship in some obscure country so I can represent them in the Olympics.

As I sit and watch the competition from China these days, I long to get out there and compete with the best in the world. But we do have mirrors in the house so I know the likelihood of representing my home country is pretty much zilch.

Each Olympics, though, I hear of these Americans who have discovered some link in their past which makes them eligible to compete under another flag. I want that to be me.

Hopefully as we delve more into the past, we will find that some line of the Shea family passed through the British Virgin Islands or Grenada or even some island in the South Pacific.

Some people probably watched the Opening Ceremonies and marveled at the pageantry, but I took the time to try and note all the new places where I might want to claim heritage.

St. Kitts and Nevis only has four athletes. I’m sure they would let me join them. Aruba and Dominica each only have two athletes so they definitely need more. I have always wanted to visit the Carribean so maybe my first trip could be for my victory parade.

Once I find a country willing to adopt me, I need to find a sport. As I grew up and realized I would never wrestle for the U.S. internationally – I think I accepted that when I entered an open Olympic qualifier in 1992 and a guy literally dropped me on my head – I figured I could finagle a spot in someone else’s lineup.

Well, that idea is gone since international wrestling have limited the field to just 20 wrestlers who have to qualify for the tournament. They could have just told me they think I’m fat and out of shape instead of passing a rule, but whatever.

I watch NBC (or the NBC family of networks) each day trying to find a new sport. That rowing stuff doesn’t look that hard. I mean, the seat moves and everything. Or maybe I could try that pommel horse thing. All you do is spin. I could take break dancing lessons and probably win the gold by a mile.

The real deal might be in table tennis. I can see the “up close and personal” profile on TV now. Dimly lit video of me playing in the basement. A tearful interview where I recount how I just could not give up on my dream. I could be the media darling of the 2012 games.

At least until I realize that the kind of ping pong they play there does not involve cups of beer. The people of Kiribati might just have someone else to lead them to Olympic glory.