Point/Counterpoint: Is Bob Costas Actually a 1,000-Year-Old Vampire?

If you, like me, have become addicted to the Olympics this week -- like any good fan of American exceptionalism and morally questionable human anatomy experiments and lengthy, emotive Coca-Cola commercials really should -- you've probably found yourself gazing into the calming, steel-grey eyes of one Bob Costas as he carries us easily from archery semifinals to rhythmic gymnastics like some kind of soothing Olympics doula.

You may have lost track of the time in this hypnotized state, or even the year. A simultaneously unnerving and reassuring sense of déjà vu, the feeling that time's unrelenting passage has been suddenly rendered meaningless, may descend. Is it 1996? you may find yourself uttering, if you, in this example, are me. I swear I recall watching this exact same programming on this day in August 1996, getting excited about gymnastics, and yet -- here I am, a 32-year-old woman instead of a 12-year-old child. Economies have collapsed and been rebuilt; countries invaded; yesterday's babies are today's pop stars.

So how does Bob Costas stay exactly the same?

According to several online profiles, Robert Quinlan Costas, human man, was born in Queens, New York, on March 22, 1952, making him currently 64 years of age. And yet, hairstyles and temporary pinkeye aside, his face remains unchanged, miraculously unmarked by history's normally unforgiving forward march. It was with this paradox in mind -- a nagging little quandary that hatched under my skin sometime last week only to grow into a full-fledged obsession in the ensuing days, consuming my every waking thought -- that I decided to do some digging.

Is it possible, I wondered, that Bob Costas is actually a 1,000-year-old vampire? You may call this an unlikely explanation. I will not disagree with you. I will say this: Is it any more unlikely than anything Simone Biles does?

After several sleepless nights spent digging through the bowels of the internet, I am no closer to a conclusive answer, but I figured I might as well share what I've learned in a handy point-counterpoint format.

Point: Here he is in college (photo undated, presumably 1970-1975).

Counterpoint: That whole pinkeye thing. I'm no vampire expert, but I'm pretty sure the undead don't contract communicable diseases from regular humans. (Unless he drank the blood of someone with pinkeye, maybe?!)

Point: Here he is in 1985.

Counterpoint: He's produced two human children: son Keith (born 1986) and daughter Taylor (born 1989). Both have gone on to careers in broadcast journalism; reportedly neither has shown signs of vampiric behavior.

Point: Here he is in 1992, the first year he hosted the Olympics, in Barcelona.

Counterpoint: He ostensibly produced said children by procreating in the typical human way with his first wife, Carole Krummenacher, to whom he was married from 1983 to 2001. If anyone's going to out you as a vampire, it's probably going to be an ex-wife -- and yet, no leaks from Krummenacher to the press about odd sleeping habits or changes in temperament.

Point: Here he is in 1996.

Counterpoint: He got another human woman, Jill Sutton, to marry him in 2004. (See above.)

Point: I can't for the life of me find a photo of him at the 2000 Olympics in Sydney. (What happened in 2000, Bob?!) But here's Bob Costas interviewing a baby-faced Kobe Bryant sometime that year while some lovely flute music plays in the background.

Counterpoint: Covering the Olympics requires spending a lot of time out of doors in the daytime, which involves prolonged exposure to sunlight. Unless Costas is some extremely advanced form of vampire, his live coverage over the past three decades would probably have included at least 50 percent more shrieking and skin-curdling.

Point: Our pal Bob, Beijing, 2008.

Counterpoint: He was criticized widely in 2012 for using his platform during Sunday Night Football to voice support for increased gun control laws. Vampires don't care about guns. They care about sunlight, crosses, and garlic.

Point: Here's 2012 (pre-pink eye).

Counterpoint: In 2013, he and his wife bought a Newport Beach property featuring a saltwater pool, spa, and pool house. Everyone knows vampires can't swim.

Point: Here's him in 2016.

Counterpoint: In this clip, Bob both spits bars from a Ludacris track like it's beat poetry and references a normal human fear of his own mortality. Please note that this obviously does not make him a non-vampire. It is, however, a goddamn delight.

I could go on -- my research is, as previously noted, quite extensive -- but assuming your interest in this topic is more of the layman's variety, I'll leave you here.

Bob Costas: a basically human man with incredibly good genes, a reliable colorist, and a Botox specialist on speed-dial? Or bloodsucking leech in human form who has roamed the earth in an invisible cloak of evil since time immemorial? The search continues. Should you, dear reader, gather any further evidence in either direction, I'm quite open to hearing it.

In the meantime: Go Team USA. Go whomever Bob tells me to root for. Go anyone who will come over and disable my internet access every night after midnight. I really need some sleep.