RIO DE JANEIRO _ Maybe I'm way, way off on this, but something tells me Ryan Lochte wasn't up all night meticulously crafting his grand apology to everyone who has ever samba-ed or sipped a caipirinha or worshipped Pele, his shoulders slumped, his heart heavy, tears dripping down his cheeks and smudging the ink on his legal pad.
A more likely scenario: An attorney or media flak or the U.S. Olympic Committee wrote it and emailed it to him with the message, "FYI: We're sending this out."
But Lochte's name is on it and he posted it at 7:11 a.m. on social media, so he owns it now.
Like most things these days, it is filled with innuendo and hidden meaning and double entendre. As a service to our readers, we have offered to translate Lochte's words into more understandable and authentic terms, from what he said (or was said for him) into what he really meant.
