athletes

How should we define an "athlete."  Is a field goal kicker an athlete?  A 375 pound offensive guard for an NFL team?  Is the designated hitter on a baseball team an athlete? A fencer? A sharp shooter? A weight lifter?

I think whatever definition we create would include participants in three Olympic events I saw yesterday.  While I was extending myself perspiring on an elliptical machine I watched the synchronized diving competition.  This was something to see.  Let's start with the dives themselves.  From a platform a diver jumps up, then does four and a half somersaults in the air before gliding into the pool with as little a splash as possible.  Try that at your local pool.  Try one somersault. Given the nature of the event, not only do the athletes do four and a half somersaults they do it at the exact same time as a teammate is so contorting himself. The two of them have to enter the pool at the same time, having twisted at the same time.  Try synchronizing cannonballs with a pal the next time you are at the Y.

After the diving competition while I pushed myself to what amounts to fast walking for a while, I saw a beach volleyball competition. If you have never watched this, take a look.  Two women on a side, diving all over the court, jumping to block and spike. An American team won a contested match with the Czechs.  Timing, diving, blocking, changing direction while in the air--athletes.

But the most mind boggling event I viewed yesterday is one I see only every four years.  The gymnasts.  Contestant after contestant got up on the horse and effortlessly went through contortions for a minute. Grabbing one end of the horse and swinging around, then switching hands and positions.  I am in good shape. I exercise almost daily. Spend nearly an hour, sometimes more, on the elliptical machine without stopping--I could not last five seconds doing what these gymnasts were doing effortlessly. And of course after they were done, spinning dizzily, they dismounted gracefully landing two feet on the ground without a stumble before raising their hands in a deserved gesture of self satisfaction.

Today marks the third day of practice for the New England Patriots. We consider football players to be great athletes and they are, but not sure even the defensive backs--often the best athletes on the teams--could score a point against the women in the beach volleyball game, or last ten seconds on the horse, or dive in tandem with a teammate.

olympiad

I was watching an early round soccer game yesterday morning between Gabon and Switzerland. There was a camera shot of the stands where Gabon clad supporters were walking around the stadium in some sort of poorly choreographed march. The extent of the synchronization made me wonder if the Gabon loyalists had knocked a few back before the contest. At one point the Gabon fans stood in front of seated Switzerland fans and did their cheering. It looked like good natured us/them back and forth.

The players for both teams sure looked as if they were playing their hearts out for their respective countries. Switzerland had been favored so it was something of a victory for Gabon to come away with a 1-1 draw.

At some point during the game I thought of lyrics from the John Lennon song, Imagine. Imagine, there's no countries, it isn't hard to do, nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too.

What are countries? They are political and social constructions, no? The United States is separate from Canada and Mexico, how? An arbitrary line was drawn, the same kind of line that separates Portugal from Spain, or Togo from Benin. Why is Chile different from say, Colombia or Venezuela, or for that matter, Lichtenstein.

The Olympics brings together countries which may be in conflict and might even be at war, and this is cited as a good thing. Iran will compete with Israel in the next few weeks and the spirit of sport will trump the political tensions between the countries. I love watching the Olympics and I root for the US to win. I think the Olympics by and large is a wonderful event. Yet it does reinforce the construction that we are different, and we are not.

When I was a kid, I went to a summer camp where, periodically, we had what were called "Watermelon Leagues." The bunch of us campers would be broken up into three teams that would compete in basketball, baseball, and volleyball over a week. The winning team would get a watermelon. This was good fun. Some tensions surfaced. Players on team A would coalesce and see Team B as the enemy, but it was for a short duration and subsequently we got back together again as a group.

The Olympics is a great event. I look forward to the summer games particularly. However, it obstructs any ability to imagine no countries, and perpetuates the incorrect conception that we are different.

125th street mural

I am riding now taking a serpentine route through Harlem now on Madison Avenue. I'm in a bus equipped with wifi as I return home from a three day trip to NY to visit my brother. Soon we will be turning crossing 125th street, it of the famous Langston Hughes poem called 125th Street Mural--often just called, "What happens to a dream deferred."

It is taking forever to get out of Manhattan. We left at 4 from Madison Square Garden on a Friday so, go figure, the traffic is horrible. I could have walked the 90 blocks in an hour and we are now 45 minutes from when we started.

After we boarded, the driver delivered the bus version of the stewardess speech leaving out the part about the flotation devices. Bathrooms in the back. No loud radio playing. Hold onto the railings as you walk up and down the aisles.

At the end of the talk he told us that the bus would not leave until everyone on this Boston bound journey chanted, "Let's go Yankees." The Red Sox are in the Bronx this weekend playing the Yankees in a three game set. At this clip I will get home in time to see the Sunday contest.

It does still surprise me how pervasive sports is in our society. My brother and I had lunch Wednesday at a place called Ben's and there we saw a number of patrons adorned in baseball jerseys representing their teams. That night we went to a sports tavern that was packed on a Wednesday and we could have selected any one of a dozen other such restaurants within a two block radius. We take a walk in a rural part of New Jersey yesterday and see two walkers/joggers wearing gear from football teams to which they apparently have some allegiance. And today, the bus driver, knowing about the Red Sox rivalry, ribs we Bostonians by telling us to chant Let's Go Yankees. When one of the riders chirps up with the requested chant, the driver's riposte is "Boston fans are such traitors."

I will have time to blog about the entire olympics which ends mid August, by the time this bus leaves the Bronx.

tee shirt

For the first time in a while it is pleasant to sit out on my deck. Earlier this week it was so hot and humid, that when I slid the slider over at 9 pm to see if it would be comfortable outside, I felt as if I was being hit with a wall of outside heat.

Today, however, it is gorgeous. About 80, no humidity. In a couple of hours the deck will be covered with sun, but right now I still have some shade. I am fortunate--as I have written before in this blog, to live adjacent to a wooded area. In front of me as I sit is nothing but what looks like a lush forest. To my right is a park and I can hear the bats hitting the balls and the chatter that comes with the games. To my left is a quiet neighbor.

All is well, but that is if I am looking through this narrow lens.

In Colorado a maniac decided to spray a movie theater with bullets. The killer has destroyed life and the lives of the loved ones who knew the victims. And who knows how emotionally shattered the survivors of the shooting are and will be.

If you are willing to accept the argument that we are all connected somehow, then who knows what damage this crazed person has done to all of our foundations.

This morning I had to do some errands. I brought the vacuum cleaner in because it is essentially new and was not working. A kind technician showed me that what was not working was me as he explained as diplomatically as one can, that I did not see something that any fool should have been able to notice. So, the vacuum cleaner got "fixed". I went to the post office to mail in a bill, and then returned some bottles to what are called here in Massachusetts, package stores. Finally, I had to go to the supermarket to pick up an item or two.

As I checked out and was running my card through the gizmo, I hear the person behind me ask, cheerfully, for a bag of ice in addition to his groceries. The attendant goes to get the ice and I turn around to see the customer. He is a normal looking fellow with a friendly smile. I am about to turn back around to get my packages when I notice his tee shirt. It is a normal beige looking Saturday morning tee. It has three letters on it. GFY.

In a time of acronyms that are used in texting I am about ten years behind the curve. This one, however, I think I get.

What would possess a person to wake up and finger through his duds and decide to select that shirt to present that message to the world.

The crazy in Denver is a crazy, deranged to somehow think that the horrific act makes sense. The fellow with the shirt probably just thought it was a hoot to wear that top. Probably is benign, but we are all likely better off if we pass along the love instead.

Knicks and Lin

It has surprised me now and again when I meet people who lead or own organizations that are, financially at least, successful--and discover that they, to be polite, lack wisdom.  Sometimes I believe people latch onto or are given something that cannot fail without determined efforts to undermine it.  So, the enterprise is a success.  But still when you come face to face with the persons who are running the show you marvel at how such a simpleton rose to the position and how the organization can continue to survive.

Last year the Knicks got an unexpected breath of fresh and rejuvenating air when Jeremy Lin soared to stardom within the period of a few weeks.  Lin had been a benchwarmer, but because of injuries got an opportunity to be the starting guard. What he did was so sensational that he found himself on the cover of SI, earned a sports fan nickname, Linsanity, and made active fans out of New York basketball enthusiasts whose excitement had ebbed for so many years as the team played uninspired and losing basketball.

Lin was injured toward the end of the season so he could not participate in the playoffs, but had it not been for the energy he infused into the team, the Knicks would never have made the playoffs.

The wizards who own and manage the Knicks--the same brain trust that hired Isiah Thomas to coach and general manage the team--decided not to rehire Jeremy Lin for next year.  They went out and signed a very talented player in Carmelo Anthony last season, and the word is that Anthony and Lin did not mesh.

By not signing Lin, not only did the team reduce its chances for being successful, it hauled out the New York City fire department to put out the sparks of excitement that Lin had generated.  This befuddling move will remove fans from seats, set the press against the Knicks, move some New York fans to root for the Brooklyn Nets instead, and--oh by the way--result in the Knicks losing a competitive edge.

Jeremy Lin will play for the Houston Rockets next year.  It is the Rockets gain. That is about the only other entity that gains. Lin will lose the New York City exposure. The Knicks will lose a talented player. And the league will lose the excitement that Lin provided.

Probably good for Boston Celtic fans, though.  The Knicks play in the same division as the Celtics.  One less team to worry about.

Ray Allen Press Conference

The reaction Celtic fans have had to the departure of Ray Allen reminds me of a sweetheart's response after a lover has taken up with a rival.


The Miami Heat, Allen's new team, officially introduced the player at a press conference yesterday. I saw much of the interview portion while on the elliptical.  It seemed to me that Allen was diplomatic when asked about his relationship with Celtic management, fans, the New England region and former teammates--even Rajon Rondo a player with whom it is said Allen had conflicts.  Flanked by his new coach and the general manager, Allen adroitly walked the line between praising and not disrespecting his former team/fans, and sounding eager to be with the new team.


The reaction in New England has been amusing to me.  Why did he leave?  We offered him more.  He is not loyal.  Does he really want to play with THEM?


When a lover leaves for another, this is how the jilted person often reacts. What could she possibly see in HIM.  After all I have done, she takes off with that, that, that, bum.


Every word uttered by the former sweetheart is scrutinized and seen through the distorted lens of the person who is heartbroken.


Ray Allen left the Celtics because he thought the new situation was better for him.  He took a lot less money to play for the Heat and that can burn the spurned team.  Sitcom characters describe to a forlorn ex lover why the partner headed off, "He's just not that into you" they say.  Well, Ray Allen was no longer that into the Celtics.  


And instead of blaming Ray Allen for his decision, Celtic management, might want to consider what it was that made the Celtics less attractive. I'll suggest it could have been coddling a churlish Rajon Rondo and marginalizing a mature Ray Allen.


Regardless the episode and reaction in New England indicates the devotion and attachment sport fans often have to their teams and the players on them.

Revealing

I read today that there is a growing niche for restaurants that have followed the lead of Hooters. These restaurants hire waitresses who are revealingly clad. Like Hooters, the chains have suggestively punny names.  One is called Mugs and Jugs. Another, the Tilted Kilt. Twin Peaks is a third.  These restaurants have been nicknamed "breastaurants."

Is there anything wrong with the concept?

If you are a sports fan you have noticed that in the last several years, broadcasts of baseball, football, and basketball games have included sideline reporters who interview coaches at intervals during the contest.  These journalists are far more often than not, women.  Almost without exception, these reporters are not difficult on the eyes.  The demographics of the sports television viewers are changing, but still the audience is overwhelmingly male.

Is there anything wrong with hiring attractive women to be the sideline reporters if a criterion for their hiring is  pulchritude and the journalists, however excellent they may be, have been employed primarily to engage the overwhelming portion of the audience?  Is there anything wrong with this, if the overwhelming majority of the broadcasters in the booth are men?

The Dallas cheerleaders have not been selected because of their SAT scores.  Anything wrong with this?

I've never been in a Hooters.  I am not a prude, but in the context of a family restaurant the Hooters' concept bothers me because of the hypocrisy.  It seems to me that many people get very upset when sex is discussed in the schools or in most public places.  If sex was not intended to be the lure in Mugs and Jugs et al, then the eateries would not be suggestively named and the servers would wear more in the way of clothes. If you check out the logo for Twin Peaks, it's clear that the owners have not identified mountain climbers as the key demographic.

At the Twin Peaks web site a click on locations informs the surfer that the restaurant has a presence in twelve states.  Only one of these is a blue state.  Eight out of twelve are red; three are undecided according to the current political map.   Is it odd that tolerance for such a theme is found in places where the majority of voters support conservative measures?

Those who read The Madness of March know that for five days in 2009 I spent time in sports books along the strip in Las Vegas.   The book describes the sports betting scene more than anything else.  However, there are allusions to cocktail waitresses and the temporary diversions for the sports bettors.  Yet, that is Las Vegas. When you go to Las Vegas there are no stunning surprises along these lines.

Twin Peaks in South Carolina, Louisiana, and Kansas.  Probably nothing wrong with it, but are the same people who are eating there voting for conservative candidates who campaign on a platform opposed to sex education in the classroom.

I have no problem with alluring attire or consensual intimacy. At all.  I do have a problem with declarations that sex is an abomination and a proliferation of successful breastaurants in red states.  Where are all those people shouting for abstinence in the schools when a new Twin Peaks opens.  Where are those people who squawk at the (very few) sexual references in a great book like The Catcher in the Rye, when the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders are getting chest colds in a wintry December football game.  The existence of steamy looking women in places where generating steam is declared sinful is, to my way of thinking, revealing.