Billy Ocean’s “Caribbean Queen,” and Van Halen’s “Panama” pumped through my Walkman. My wardrobe consisted of an Orioles painters cap, a pair of checkered Vans, silver and black parachute pants and an “I heart you, Mary Lou” T-shirt my Aunt Jo won at the Arbutus Carnival.

The year was 1984, a time when the Olympics were cooler than wearing sunglasses at night. From the American good versus the evil that was Europe’s Eastern Block to the corporate sponsors turning the games into the McOlympics, the event had more panache and flair than Brian Boitano.

The legendary efforts of Retton, Carl Lewis and others in ‘84 fueled an Olympic euphoria that started in Los Angeles and swept across the country.

But in recent years, legendary performances have given way to Dan Jansen skating like the Hanson brothers and Canadian Ben Johnson doing so many steroids he should have changed his middle name to Tiny.

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The Olympic spirit was as polluted as Beijing air.

But now, 23 years later, my inner Olympic flame has been rekindled by the promise of Michael Phelps, Katie Hoff and Carmelo Anthony.

Three Baltimoreans.

Two sports.

One goal.

Think about that. Baltimore — a city of 670,000 give or take a census with an inferiority complex the length of The Great Wall — is so overlooked on a global scale it can’t even get a dot on the Weather Channel’s map. But Charm City is so intertwined in the success of the entire U.S. Olympic team, the medals might as well have blue crabs on one side to honor our greatness.

Our city— not New York, Washington, Chicago, Boston or Los Angeles — breeds Olympians. From Phelps, Hoff and Anthony to Theresa Andrews, Anita Nall, Beth Botsford and Bernard Williams, hordes of athletes have put the red, white and blue on their back with Baltimore coursing through their veins.

This doesn’t happen by accident. We are a scrappy bunch so used to being told we’re not this place or that and that we don’t stack up for whatever reason, we just fight back and come out on top.

If Phelps racks up an Olympic record eight gold medals and Hoff adds six, it would be the most gold on one podium since rapper Nelly accepted his Grammy.

If Anthony can help lead the latest installment of USA basketball’s “Dream Team” out of it’s recent Olympic slumber, past failures will be forgotten and global hoops order will be restored.

When you tune into the Games of the XXIX Olympiad, know the distance between Baltimore and Beijing isn’t so great.

Listen when Bob Costas waxes poetic about the raw power of Phelps, the hunger of Hoff, and the way Anthony’s corn rows sway like amber waves of gold on his way to the basket.

Envision assistant basketball coach and Baltimore’s own Steve Wojciechowski taking his turn to cut down the net.

I can’t wait to take my kids to the store and buy them “I heart Hoff” shirts.

I can taste the gold.

It tastes like Old Bay.

Tony Giro writes about the NFL, Major League Baseball and college sports. He can be reached at timeout@baltimoreexaminer.com.