Tag Archives: Olympics

A Little About the Olympics

Standard

The games of the Twenty-fifth Winter Olympiad are all in the books now. I didn’t get to watch as much as I wanted to. I vastly prefer the winter games to the summer games. To me, they are just more exciting, and I just like the separate events more. For example, I love the sliding events! I also think some of these athletes are nuts. Now bobsled isn’t so bad. Two man or four man, everybody is enclosed in a vehicle. Speed is crazy, but if they crash, they have something around them. Then there’s skeleton and luge. These people have a death wish. Let’s get on a tiny sled that our bodies barely fit on and go hurtling down a track at ridiculous speeds just a couple of inches off the icy surface. They steer by wiggling their bodies. They are insane. Hit an imperfection in the ice the wrong way and get launched off the tiny sled and onto the track where your only protective gear is a nice helmet and a glorified leotard.

Luge isn’t any better. Let’s flip over and ride the tiny sled on our backs feet first down the track. Same wild speeds, same gear. This time they are just feet first. I remember being little and watching luge for the first time for the 1980 Lake Placid Olympics. I thought then that these people were crazy and the speeds have only increased since then. What’s more, luge has a DOUBLES event where TWO people are on the tiny sled screaming down the track. Now I don’t know or pretend to know these athletes’ sexual proclivities, but just looking at doubles luge seems to me the participants have to know each other, if not biblically, then at least very, very well.

Speaking of athletes’ sex lives, everyone lives for two weeks in the giant Olympic Village. Now this is a place where it is at least whispered about graphic and sordid things happening. Now I’m not sure how quiet the whispers are since they athletes are all provided a lot of condoms as part of their welcome package to the facility. I may be wrong, but I just picture the whole building as a giant fraternity house at a party college. It’s like Sodom and Gomorrah in there! Now I understand the attraction. After all, these are mostly a group of young people at the peak of their physical conditioning. Adrenaline and hormones are all swirling through the air. The atmosphere is exciting. I suppose it’s no wonder one thing doesn’t lead to another. These things happen.

Leaving sex behind, another favorite event, and a decidedly unsexy one at that, is curling. This game of glorified shuffleboard on ice just amazes me. I have but a slight comprehension of the rules, but the mechanics of the game are fascinating. One person in an elegant sliding motion sends a specially made stone down the icy path then starts screaming at two people with space age type “brooms” to sweep a line in front of the rock that makes it curve or go straight faster as the people want it to. I’m amazed at the stones themselves. I saw and episode of How It’s Made on Discovery Channel showing the only quarry of granite in the world where all curling stones originate from. The main body of the stone comes from one type of granite, while the small disc on the bottom is a second also special type of granite of another color. Maybe I’m just a nerd, but it’s heady stuff to me.

Even Budge likes curling. Back when we had cable, we found a sports channel that featured some curling matches so we got to watch outside the Olympics. I didn’t get all the details, but apparently, there was a spot of controversy at the games this year. Seems allegations of cheating were being leveled at certain teams by other teams. Whether or not it was true, I still think it’s a little funny to see the stuffy curler getting upset about the very gentlemanly game.

Budge’s favorite events are the ski events of any type except moguls, and figure skating. I find this amusingly strange. On the one hand, she loves to watch people hurtle down a mountain, but at the same time, adored the elegance and style of figure skating. One of her most enjoyed events, and one she has expressed a desire to do, is ski jumping. She finds it amazing how, for a brief time, these athletes are flying, practically flying, through the air. I told her she was welcomed to try and I would support her from the sidelines, because I’m old enough to remember ABC’s Wide World of Sports and their example of the “agony of defeat” was a ski jumper absolutely wiping out on the launch ramp. That’s all I need to know about the sport.

The other skiing events are pretty wild, too. Downhill skiers are about as crazy as the sliders. The downhill athletes go screaming down the mountains through curves and small jumps while reaching speeds that would be illegal on most highways in my home state. I know the big story of the games, at least the early part, was Lindsay Vonn’s comeback attempt ending in bitter tragedy with her terrifying crash on her first run. To me, she had no business trying to compete anyway. I understand the desire to get out and recapture that greatness, but honestly, downhill skiing is a young person’s sport and she’s over forty. She did survive the crash, but she credits the doctors and surgeons with saving her leg in the aftermath.

Still, Budge’s heart is set on figure skating before anything else. She watched the competition on her iPad every night it aired. She enjoys Tara Lipinski and Johnny Weir’s commentary as much as she does the skating. She has studied the jumps and such and has a pretty good grasp of the rules. I, on the other hand, am at a total loss as to what’s going on out there. I have no idea what makes a Lutz different from a Salchow, or what a combination is supposed to look like. I know the judges are a finicky and picky lot of lemon suckers. I think no judge from a country whose skater is on the ice should be allowed to judge that skater. It’s too much temptation. I know they throw out the top and bottom score, but still. I enjoy watching the various iterations of the skating as long as I get to watch it with Budge. It makes her so happy, she smiles.

One last event she and I both enjoy is the biathlon. Now that’s a sport. Let’s ski cross country up and down hills and valleys, and over various obstacles. That’s going to get the old heart rate up and moving. Then, when were sucking in air like our lungs are going to sue us for nonsupport, we’ll stop and take a rifle and shoot at a little bitty target a good ways away while standing. I think those are some supreme athletes.

Anyway, I hate that the winter games only happen every four years. It’s the only time the sports I really enjoy are televised. I guess in Europe they have sports shows that feature luge, skeleton, and bobsled, but here in America we miss out. So in any event, stay warm, know that I love you all, and keep your feet clean!

Thoughts on the London Olympics Opening Ceremony

Standard

The Olympics always bring memories to me. The earliest one I can remember was the 1980 Lake Placid Winter Games. Papa Wham and I actually watched the “Miracle On Ice” when our ragtag group of amateur hockey players defeated the mighty Soviet juggernaut and for a minute, yes, we all DID believe in miracles. I also have distinct memories of Sarajevo ’84 and looking back at how beautiful the city was then it’s hard for me to imagine how devastated it would be fifteen years later.

I remember Mary-Lou Retton capturing all our hearts. I also remember little Kari Scruggs bravely vaulting on her broken foot to assure the gold medal for the women’s team. I watched Kurt Angle when he was a “real” wrestler; that gold medal he wears to the ring is real, you know. I saw the unbelievable happen as Roulon Gardner beat the unbeatable Alexander “The Experiment” Karelin to win wrestling gold.

In short, I really love the Olympics and getting to watch the opening ceremonies last night with Budge and the other half of our family at Deuce and Cam’s house was about as good as it gets. Long before the parade of nations ended, I thought about blogging what I felt, so here, in no certain order, are my musings on the XXX Olympiad’s opening pageant.

  • I quickly got sick of hearing how “No one could possibly top the scope and spectacle of Beijing.” Danny Boyle can stand proudly because this opening was every bit as spectacular and beautiful as ’08 AND he accomplished his vision all while dealing with labor unions AND volunteers who really were volunteers, not conscripted peasants worrying about getting shot if they messed up.
  • Was I the only one who — whenever anyone mentioned Danny Boyle’s name — kept wanting to belt out “The pipes, the pipes, are calling?”
  • Brazil does not produce ugly women. No female rating less than a 9 on the International Hottie Scale was walking in their entourage. I’m convinced the place is like ancient Sparta only instead of the elder warriors, a group of gorgeous supermodels are on call at the hospitals to inspect each newborn girl for completely overboard hottness and any who don’t measure up are sent to Puerto Rico.
  • Staying with the hottness theme, I don’t have a homosexual bone in my body, but Daniel “007” Craig is one fine, fine looking hunk of manhood.
  • Why does every other country’s costume show something to do with their culture or heritage or the way the world views them while OUR made in China United States costumes look a lot like military uniforms, right down to the fatigue pants and bere- . . . oh, I get it.
  • His Royal Highness Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh looks extremely fit and well for approaching 92.
  • Speaking of the Royals, I think it was right sporting of Queen Elizabeth to go along with the festivities and allow an effigy of Her Royal Highness to skydive behind Mr. Bond into the stadium. Also, she’s not much for long speeches is she? “I now pronounce the Games of the XXX Olympiad open.” Sits. Poker face.
  • Those poor people banging on all those drums have GOT to have sore arms this morning.
  • I hope everyone sitting at home poking fun at the tiny delegations of countries like Burkina Faso and Tonga realized at some point those folks were IN THE OLYMPICS while they — armchair critics they are — never will be.
  • Anyone else wonder how many people soiled themselves when all the pyrotechnics blew up near the end? Worst part was just about the time you got your sphincter back on the chain, the bloody things went off again!
  • Whoever designed the Olympic Flame Cauldron needs to be knighted or raised to the peerage or something. That is the most beautiful flame holder in any Olympics I’ve ever seen. I just wondered how many times some guy was running around in the dark making sure all the “petals” were placed and attached correctly.
  • Anyone else think it was kind of Matt Lauer and company to cover Sir Paul’s quavering opening bars of “Hey, Jude” as being “choked up?” Paul isn’t a bass or a baritone and as anyone who heard Pavarotti or Domingo sing late in their careers knows higher pitched male voices don’t weather age as well as the lower registers. Still, “Hey, Jude” sung and played by the man who wrote it isn’t a sight to be missed. I hope Ringo was at the show and somewhere John and George were smiling.
  • Those youngsters need to brush up on their “na, na, na, NA, NA, NAAA . . . NA, NA, NAAAAA, Hey Judes!!” Sing it like you mean it kids and while you’re at it, learn if you’re a guy or a girl and sing at the right time!!
  • I’ve got to get some music by The Arctic Monkeys. That “Come Together” cover rocked.
  • BTW, where the crap was Sir Elton John? WTH?
  • Why can’t we Americans act like we’ve been somewhere before and walk in gracefully waving instead of lampooning around and snapping pictures non-stop on our cell phones? Really, people?! You’re in front of the Queen AT THE OLYMPICS for pete’s sake, show some respect.
  • How is it one of the probably four white girls in all of Zimbabwe has won 7 of the 8 medals in the country’s history? I may be wrong, but I’m betting she’s an immigrant or, worse, a colonial left over.
  • Why did so many of the countries have a taekwondo fighter, a judoist, or a shooting sports participant as their flag bearers? Were they afraid someone was going to run out and take the Armenian flag or something?
  • Speaking of the flags, Glastonbury Tor — the little green hill with all the flags on it? It’s a real place. Google it.
  • Finally, was it just me, or did anyone else hope the whole time the steel workers were “forging the ring” someone would pull a master prank and project a huge red eye on top of one of the smokestacks while hacking the sound system to boom out “One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them …” After all, J.R.R. Tolkien was about as British as they come even if he was born in South Africa.

Enjoy the Olympics everyone! They really are one of the few times the best things about this crazy world actually come to the front and displace all the violence and sadness we see in the news every day.

Love y’all and keep those feet clean.

Sport of the Gods

Standard

Volleyball is for girls. Football is for boys. Wrestling is for MEN!

At least that’s the way we always phrased it back on the mats when I was a wrestler. Please, before I go any farther, do not confuse nor make the tired joke about wrasslin’. NOTHING annoys a real wrestler more than the question, “Where’s the ropes?”

Tonight was the first Monday night after Thanksgiving and ever since I was a freshman in high school, that has meant the first match of the wrestling season. Ever since late September, wrestlers all over the country have been counting calories and donning sweat suits to get down to whatever magical weight they want to compete at for the coming season. Tonight, they got to step on the mat and see if their hard work has paid off.

I don’t miss much in my life as much as I miss wrestling. I was a varsity wrestler for my high school for three years and I had the pleasure of coaching as both an assistant and a head coach for nearly ten years. No other sport comes close. Wrestling was on the agenda at the first Olympics and the basic equipment hasn’t changed much . . . except we don’t wrestle naked anymore — although the first time you ever put on a Spandex singlet and step out in front of a crowd of people, you may FEEL naked.

Everything great and wonderful about my high school years revolved around wrestling. I went out for the team as a freshman in the hopes of catching the eye and impressing a girl named Kim whose brother was on the team. I was the only heavyweight that year so I started every match . . . and LOST every match except the lone forfeit I got because the opposing wrestler tripped getting off the team bus and got a concussion. Needless to say, I didn’t get the girl, even though she was impressed that I didn’t quit. At the awards banquet that year, I received the Silver Flounder Award for being the biggest fish on the team.

I dropped weight and wrestled great my sophomore and junior years. I even placed second in our region my junior year. I was one match away from qualifying for the state tournament when I came down with stomach flu. That was the end of that year. My senior year was a disaster. I was already having a REALLY BAD year and the first day of practice, I found out the weight classes had changed. My coveted 167 was gone. I was now in the same class with two monsters who I never could hope to beat. They tried to kill each other and the loser dropped down to the next lowest division.

I was odd man out. I was a senior with three bars and twenty-two pins on my letterman jacket and I was relegated to the bench. It was at that point that I gave up on my entire senior year and the wheels well and truly fell off the apple cart, but that is a story for another time.

So, men, gird up your loins, put your foot on the stripe inside the circle and wait for the whistle.

When you finish, roll up the mats . . . and wash your feet! Love y’all.