Sports, Games and Competitions – Page 10

I Skipped The Stanley Cup

For the first time in about 18 years, I did not watch one Stanley Cup playoff game and I really don’t care that the Senators lost. Why is that:

Kids: I have no interest in watching idiots fight and explaining it to my kids. NHL hockey thinks fighting is part of the game but I can go to NCAA games with the kids in northern NY for under 30 bucks for the family including gas and see nothing but end to end play. And I get to scream “Yale Sucks!“
Other sports: As you know baseball has got my attention but so does NCAA hockey, basketball and football. I also have access to masses of soccer. All the sports are exciting and allow me to be a fan for way less than NHL hockey, whether it is tickets or paraphernalia.
The strike: Lost me completely. Bettman’s changes didn’t make a change but he was good enough to put the Cup on the shelf for a year to play God. The cap has made for tedious roving free agent parity. Bo-ring.
The teams who win: Tampa Bay Carolina, Anaheim. Who cares? No one in the US except people in those cities. No one in Canada. Not me. Maybe if they were selling BBQ, shrimp and Mexican food but they are selling hockey. Bring back the Winnipeg Jets.
The Leafs: For better or worse, I am a fan of the Leafs. They have sucked for years. They play a style of hockey that screams of entitlement and floater. They need their guts ripped out from the board room to the bench. They will suck for many years to come so, though I have a soft spot for the Wings which predates their golden years, I have to accept it. The only blip on the Leafs radar this year was seeing Davey Keon show up for a wave and a smile during a pre-season ceremony.

There it is. The NHL better do something. So should the Leafs. Otherwise, I am joining the growing majority and saying “Feh!”

London’s Logo For The 2012 Olympics

So if that is the logo of the 2012 Olympics, what will the slogan be: “London 2012 – Bljezjef Braznats!!!” ???

That has to be the stupidest thing I have ever seen. And here is what some twits associated with the choice say:

“The new emblem is dynamic, modern and flexible, reflecting a brand-savvy world where people, especially young people, no longer relate to static logos but respond to a dynamic brand that works with new technology and across traditional and new media networks,” London 2012 organizers said in a statement. International Olympic Committee president Jacques Rogge described the logo as “truly innovative.”

When the hell did I loose the ability to relate to a static logo? And what the hell is a static logo anyway? You want a real Olympic logo? Look at that Moscow 1980 logo, lighting up the twilight sky like the ICBM packing the warhead that was going to destroy your hometown! Now that was a frikkin’ Olympic logo. Look at Barcelona 1992, the greatest Olympics ever by all accounts. What a logo! Abstract but not something that looks like it would please someone in a home for the criminally insane. Not something that looks like it broke, fell down the stairs and someone kicked it. Not like something that you know depends on string to stay together. What does London 2012’s logo say? “Come to London – we are nuts!” “Come to London – we know the value of nothing!” Crazy people are in charge:

“It’s vital that we reach out to those young people in a language that they understand and in technology that’s familiar to them,” London organizing chief Sebastian Coe said. “This brand is absolutely the world they live in.”

For the first time in my life, then, I can honestly say that if that is what the young understand they are nuts, too. In fact, I would be glum now if I were young knowing that this is what their baby boomer parents in charge of things think of them. That is awful. Way to go. The most God awful thing I have ever seen. Makes me embarrassed for the colour red.

Three Signed Balls

So we are out early at the ball park to get a good seat behind home. We are all covered in red to fit in with the minor league Red Sox crowd. The kids say they want to get the balls signed. I had three that I had bought for 500 Up and the kids wanted to bring them just in case and away I go, off on a fool’s errand, thinking that I would get some old guy selling programs to sign when a nice lady in a staff shirt tells me to stand over there. “Over there” is a little pen with guys with big cameras and other guys with binders of memorabilia. So we stand and we wait and after a few minutes the kids start to complain. A lesson in patience or a lesson in dashed dreams. I know not which but either is good for a kid in grade three. Then a Reading player comes over, a memorabilia guy shouts Michael, he signs and turns and his back says “Garciaparra” – Michael, not Nomar however. The kids aren’t satisfied. They don’t want no stinking Reading players autograph. So we wait. Nothing. Then a guy walks out. A kid. A tall skinny kid with 11 on his back. He lifts a finger and then walks away. “Awwww” the kids say. I hear “awwww” again and a huff for good measure. But then Mr. 11 comes back, signs a memorabilia thing for a memorabilia guy and I hear myself say from the back “can these three kids get their balls signed?” and he says sure and a path opens to the front. Three red dressed kids are scooted forward and he signs each one with a neat and natty signature but I can’t read the name and he walks away in one direction and the kids and I go in another.

Back in the stands, we show the balls and say who is number 11? Apparently Clay Buchholz was Boston’s Minor League Player of the Year in 2006 and he beat Roger Clemens in his last start. More ball cases now needed.

Group Project: Giambi’s Slip or Blurt

Last night, listening to the ever excellent Tony Paige on WFAN at 3 am, I was listening to callers list any number of reasons to support or decry what Jason Giambi said last week and what should be done about it. It struck me that we’ve been though quite distinct waves of sports and drugs over the last few decades, according to that most important personal characteristic – my foggy memory:

1970s: when I was a kid in school, steroids were what East German swimmers and other Soviet athletes took. We didn’t know their names and could never think of them as heroes as they were cheaters plain and simple. They bad, we good even when we lost to them.
1980s: Somewhere in here Sports Illustrated does a huge article on how high school and college kids in sport are using steroids regularly. In 1988, Ben Johnson certainly let the world know that it athletes from the west used steroids. Sports illustrated posted comparison photos of changes to his shoulder mass. Saturday Night Live did comparison photos to US women sprinters upper lips.
1990s: Lyle Alzado admits doing steroids before the NFL player dies. The early ’90s baseball strike leads amazingly (and quite unexpectedly to everyone everywhere…like…you know…pixie magic dust had settled on the game) to the late 1990 home run boom by all these big guys.
The new millennium: Jose Canseco proves you do not have to be clever to be an author and everyone almost admits that people they knew when they were young knew people who did steriods. Barry Bonds approaches Hank Aaron’s all-time home run record. Giabmi now says all of baseball should apologize.

So, it is pretty clear that we’ve known about steroid use for a long time and anyone who thinks Mark McGuire’s surprised look means anything is nuts. But why do we care? We like people being able to do amazing things and steroids let them do that even if it later on robs them of their health – after all it’s a free country, right? If we now celebrate the baseball players who came out of the late 1990s, should we not allow the Soviet-era swimmers back into the pantheon, too? And how different is it from Michael Vick hosting dog fighting, anyway? Where do ethics fit in in all of this? And whose ethics? Do we take apart baseball because we want it pure even though we loved the home runs when everyone knew the players were on the drugs? Isn’t it just entertainment and we are all consenting adults?

Group project rules apply.

A Tiny Bit Of Hope For The Yankees

You know it must be bad when the good news for the Yankees is that they avoided a sweep. The real news for them, however, is that they discovered that they discovered they have a pitcher called Tyler Clippard, a 22-year-old right-hander throwing down in triple-A Scranton/Wilkes-Barre. He was on fire and even hit a bunt and double in his own cause. Funny seeing someone with bad acne playing baseball – something you see in soccer or hockey all the time given how quickly kids are promoted.

But they now have to get back to reality and play the Sox for the next three evenings. It will be interesting to see if Johnny Damon can turn making yesterday’s catch at the wall (as opposed to Saturday night when he just helped it on its way over the wall) and that bloop single into the start of turning his year around. So far on the Coco v. Damon trade, the Soxs are looking very clever. Both have underperformed expectations but Coco has done it for far less – and has maintained his position as a positive force on the team though his attitude and effort. Coco has also added to his average in the last month, outbatting Damon .261 to .250 during that stretch.

It’s Begun

Standard Form A-137: Bulletted Chat (Friday)

In this edition, I review what I did this week and find it lacking. After being confused and disappointed by Twitter, I was simultaneously invited to Facebook by men in Alberta and Norway and I took the bait. Now I have 18 friends. I wonder whether I really had friends at all before that point. Then I wonder what I am supposed to do with the thing now that I have 18 friends.

Update: What I believe.
Update: continue to pray as we plan for MaineCanoe 2007 next week. Note for future google searches, you can find Kingston Canoe events and opportunities here.
Back in the days before I had a blog, I used to buy the Economist quite regularly. I mainly liked the graphs and the funny captions under the photos of world leaders. Their essay on the fate of Paul Wolfowitz avoids much of the gobbledegook related to the cause:

On May 14th, a report written by seven of the bank’s directors concluded that in the summer of 2005 he had broken the institution’s rules, breached his contract and fallen short of the high ethical standards of his office. All of this in an effort to appease Shaha Riza, his romantic partner, who was outraged that she would have to leave her job in the bank when he took his. He went to huge lengths to smooth his girlfriend’s exit, bowing to her demand for a substantial rise in pay, sharp annual increases and a big promotion (or two) on her return. He should never have put himself in the middle of the dispute, the report argued. He was only following the directors’ sketchy advice as he had understood it, Mr Wolfowitz insisted in reply.

You got to hand it to the man. He has had two tasks in my experience of him, totally blew both and displayed an utterly pathetic understanding of both geo-politics and personal ethics, leaving nothing but disorder in his wake. Not bad.
Is it possible that the Canadian Parliament is in disarray because not one party and not one leader has one decent idea to latch on to?
A great day for the Sox and a great second game of the double header for former Jays starter and Sox benchman Eric Hinske. I’ve never seen a man happier to hit a home run, the two run tater that gave the win, and I have never seen a man hold on to a baseball for an out while slamming his face into the warning track and eating half a pound of dirt. Good to see.
What else does this list of nations have in common other than filtering internet use? Bad at ice hockey – some good at field hockey, though. More English colonies than French, oddly enough.

More later at the breaks no doubt. If it is warm somewhere, please waft the air our way. I am sick of the cold and dreary.

The Radishes Are Up

I do not particularly like radishes but I am glad they are there. They will pop out of the ground whatever the conditions well before anything else. Maybe it’s because they give you both the false senses that you are good at something and that you have a treat to look forward to…even though a radish would pretty much grow out of a concrete block and tastes like gasoline mixed with black pepper. I plant a milder variety called French Breakfast. It reminds me of the month or less that me and pals spent in Paris 21 years ago, practicing nutritional deficiency and borderline alcoholism. Maybe the seed hybridizer stayed at the same hotel with the surely staff and the meager meals and remembered when he named his radish.

My relationship to radishes reminds me of my relationship to TV. So far today I have read or heard two stories about the collapse of TV in America. Katie Couric is floundering and NBC is foundering…or maybe it’s the other way around. NBC is actually bringing back the Bionic Woman – even though it was only the second best bionic person TV show of all time. Comparatively, the Bosox are roaring ahead and TV ratings for the sport are strong as well. I appear, along with many others, to be choosing reality – as opposed to a sort of reality in news snippets, in a series or even that sort of W2 social networking where there is neither real society or work’s rewards. Baseball – the perfect passive participation activity in its association with truth, beauty and real skill – is rising up through the wasteland of quality multimedia contentlessness. One always hopes the next thing will be real and good and simple. Perhaps it will be.

Out back, there are a few struggling tomato seed sproutlings as well, near the radishes but under special plastic roofing suffering from the cold as well, needing the sort of attention no radish would demand. I have no idea if they will make it, given this colder sort of May. Probably a replanting is necessary. I hear, however, that a radish is quite good with cold olive oil. And cheese.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

I can’t say the Jays deserve to be better than last in a surprisingly weak AL East but the time is coming to determine whether they have already packed it in for the season:

The question is, on an injury-ravaged team that has fallen into last place in the American League East with a record of 13-20 and is now 91/2 games behind the first-place Red Sox, how many more lacklustre efforts will the Jays’ executive have to witness before initiating change?

Watching the game last night, the Jay’s broadcast unfortunately, I was interested to check out where we will be seating tonight and then I realized, like watching a CFL game broadcast from a city east of Winnipeg, they were not showing the crowd or what claimed to be one.

When I am At The Ballgame…

…I shall eat a hot dog. Nothing better to watch a crumbling home team better than by eating a hot dog. To be fair, tomorrow’s game will see Halliday on the mound so a Bosox loss would not be a fraud upon the gods but I will still root for the last knuckleballer and eat a hot dog and so will the lad. The selling of hot dogs is big stuff in MLB. The Mets apparently sell the most:

Shea Stadium leads all major league ballparks with annual consumption of more than 1.5 million hot dogs. (Yankee Stadium, interestingly enough, is not ranked among the top 10.) According to Aramark, most of Shea’s dogs are sold by 48 vendors who roam the stands, as opposed to concessionaires who sell from fixed locations. The average vendor sells 150 a game, and 10,000 to 12,000 a season. Working for commissions ranging from 13 percent to 16 percent depending on seniority, they can make $150 to $200 a game, and as much as $30,000 a season.

Some say it’s going to be a twenty buck dog but for me it is all about averages. In the next 30 days I plan to see MLB, Double A in Maine and a Watertown Wizards game just over the border and I shall eat a hot dog each time. I know the Watertown dogs are about two bucks so even if the wieners at Portland are six to eight, I think over all I can invest in the twenty dollar dog knowing that I can look over the end of it and seem Manny Ramerez about twenty feet away.

If you plan for these things, you can have these things. Apparently they may play the Canadian national anthem at Watertown, too. You just have to ask.