Category: sports

For the Beijing Opening Ceremonies.

So cuteness is in the “national interests”? Pretty sickening.

I love the Olympic games; I’m not crazy about this Olympic venue.

A sure-to-be-growing list:

~ Michael Phelps, because he’s flippin’ amazing and goofy cute

~ Swimmer Jason Lezak, for his anchor leg in that earth-shaking relay

~ Swimmer Aaron Piersol, winner of the 100m backstroke, for being SO California laid-back. So mellow it seems like he couldn’t possible win anything. Haha. Dude cracks me up.

~ Jonathan Horton, for being the practically perfect glue the held the US Men’s Gymnastics Team together for an unexpected bronze

~ Natalie Coughlin, 100m backstroke gold medalist, for crying AND singing during her awards ceremony with her hand over her heart

~ The Chinese volunteers at the beach volleyball venue who searched for US player Kerry Walsh’s wedding ring which had slipped off during a play — all these people on their hands and knees, clawing at the sand, whipping out their, you know, handy-dandy metal detectors, all to find her wedding ring — which they did. The dude that got to return the ring to her just could not stop smiling. She rewarded him with some autographed merchandise while he just gaped at her in awe. Adorable.

~ Some unknown beach volleyball player in a match against the US team, for becoming so annoyed with the bug situation that he took the volleyball and, in a moment of sublime ridiculous wrath, SMASHED that ball down into the sand, killing a bug that had been tormenting him. Hahahaha, I loved that dude!

Please feel free to share your Olympic crushes. Or any crushes, really. Sarahk likes US gymnast Sasha Artemev — so I’m outing that crush right here, right now.

Your embedded Olympics reporter, just gettin’ it done.

US gymnast Jonathan Horton just NAILED the holy heck out of his high bar routine — and the huge triple-twist landing.

I don’t think I can take being so continually gobsmacked by these Olympics.

Oh, man! The next guy — Justin Spring — did too! What the HECK is going on?? We’re supposed to be underdogs here in the team competition, I believe. We’re not acting like it.

Wow. Spectacular. Breathtaking. I literally could not breathe while they were doing what they were doing.

That is all.

Carry on.

As I think we’ve established, I’m an Olympics junkie. They bring me joy. I like the hugeness of them, the possibility of transcendence that’s always lurking around the corner of the next event. But I like the smallness of them, too; the little personal gestures fraught with meaning.

Michael Phelps had one of those last night, after the 4×100 freestyle relay. The US had won, smashing the world record by 3.99 seconds. Our team was just crazed with joy. Jubilant to the point that I thought their bodies simply could not contain it, that their spirits would burst out and start jumping around the deck with them. In the midst of this, the French team in the next lane was absolutely silent. The smack-talking giant, Alain Bernard, was still in the pool, facing the starting block, not moving, stunned or pouting or something. Michael Phelps momentarily stopped his celebration and walked over to the French lane. Bernard did not look up. Phelps tapped him lightly a couple of times on the head, open palm. Finally, Bernard looked up and Phelps offered his hand, which Bernard seemed to take reluctantly. And they shook hands. I was so proud of Michael Phelps. How he forgot himself, remembered the other guy, did the right thing, reached out with grace.

Small gesture, huge meaning.

Oh mammy!! OH MAMMMY!!! That was one of the most thrilling Olympic relays I HAVE EVER SEEN!!

The men’s 4×100 freestyle relay — always a favorite of mine. We lost to, I think, South Africa four years ago and Australia eight years ago and this year, the French team was the huge heavy favorite.

Earlier, the 6-5″anchor-leg French swimmer Alain Bernard had trash-talked about the US chances: “The Americans? We’re going to smash them. That’s what we came for.”

And when the last 100 rolled around, it looked like the French WOULD win. Their giant anchor-leg swimmer in the water, ahead of everybody. At the last turn, Bernard had a half-body length lead over US anchor swimmer Jason Lezak. Even the commentators were saying, “The French are gonna do it. US can’t catch ’em,” etc. Suddenly, Lezak started swimming like a crazy man. A CRAZY MAN. Against this giant. This sure-to-win-trash-talking machine. And he gained on him, unbelievably, like some breakneck runaway train. I could NOT believe my eyes. At the wall, he out-touched the giant, smashed the world record to bits, and STUNNED that trash-talking French team into total silence. Total silence. Michael Phelps, who swam the first leg, went ABSOLUTELY NUTSO! They all went nuts! And Phelps isn’t even the story here, really. No. Jason Lezak — who I think is like 33, old for a swimmer — is the superman here. His was the fastest relay split in history.

Did you see it? Did you see it?? Oh, sweet Moses! So SO spectacular! They just had the medal ceremony and I was bawling.

If you missed it, you missed something truly historic, so please check YouTube or something to see if it’s on there. You HAVE to see it. You must. It’s your duty as an American, I’m telling you. It’s inspiring. Thrilling. Find it and watch it. You will be absolutely soaring at the end.

Oh, I love the Olympics! I need the Olympics right now.

Tonight is the first night of competition for Women’s Gymnastics and I’m all a’tingle with anticipation. Actually, the tingle is the only thing I can currently feel, since I am now embedded in my sofa, paralyzed by my progrums. Gives a whole new meaning to “embedded reporter,” doesn’t it? But that’s what I am. Your embedded Olympics reporter.

And shortly, I will get to see Nastia and the beefy peach!

Praise be for the tingle that lets me know my nerves are still functioning despite the day’s prolonged inactivity and sloth!

Right now, it’s women’s synchronized diving — an event I confess I don’t understand. Why try to synchronize your diving to someone else when you could compete alone and not have to worry about another person? On the other hand, I love synchronized swimming. Then again, synchronized swimming is not at all like what the solo swimmers do, while synchronized diving is exactly like what solo divers do. Why give yourself a bigger headache?

Please explain while I get myself up with my pryin’ bar and make myself a margarita.

I’m back. Okay. I mean, Greg Louganis never did synchronized diving. He did, however, go to my high school and — if I recall correctly from one of my sister’s yearbooks — won two Senior Standouts: Best Dressed (I remember the angel flight pants from the photo distinctly) and Best Physique. No surprise on that one. I remember watching him at a diving exhibition at the school — this was after he’d won a silver medal at the Montreal games but before all his golden dominance — and getting my first gander at that beautiful caramel physique. I remember, too, feeling a sudden strange electric surge and deciding instantly that if he’d just twist my way during one of his dizzying spins, lay eyes on me for a millionth of a second, his heart would be mine forever. Poor little Tracey. Too young and too silly to know from gay.

Hm. Seems my pryin’ bar has flung me far afield.

Where was I?

Oh, so yeah: Nastia and the beefy peach, coming up! Woo hoo!

The NBC set is, well, plain ol’ ugly, let’s be honest. Antiseptic. Kind of spare and Ikea-esque, except that that’s an insult to Ikea. I like a lot of Ikea’s stuff. What the heck, NBC? Seriously. The whole deal looks very last-minute-cobbled-together, like a high school theater set, and I know whereof I speak here. Now if you tell me you blew your wad on oxygen masks so the crew could survive Beijing, then maybe I’ll understand.

Jim Lampley, the absolute snoozer of a daytime host for the games, needs to raise his chair or sit up higher. He looks kind of shrimpy and weird behind it. He’s another local boy but looked at somewhat askance ’round these parts because of domestic abuse allegations against him here about a year or so ago.

He’s a bore, I gotta tell you. No spark. None. Zero. Zip.

Sit UP, Jim Lampley! It’s the only thing that’s gonna help you! You’re ruining my progrums, consarnit!

Oh, I have it — BAD. MB’s brother is here in the States, all the way over from Australia, and the two of them have gone up to the deep dark middle of nowhere to surprise their parents. They’re having some good long-awaited brotherly bonding time. I could have gone with them, but it just didn’t seem right. They need their time without a wife in the way.

So I’m here at home, baking and writing and painting and puttering — all with the Olympics on constant play in the background. It’s bad. I’m like some little old lady obsessed with her “progrums.” I mean, I watched fencing yesterday, for God’s sake. Fencing! And I loved it, too!

Yes. I’m an Olympic junkie, all hopped up on vicarious achievement, soaring patriotism, and temporary international rapport.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Prepare yourselves for lots of Olympic commentary during the next two weeks.

Oooh! Water polo! Gotta go watch my progrums.

UPDATE: US Men’s Water Polo trivia — 2 players are local boys, having played for that monolith of local HS water polo teams, Coronado High School. Also, get this: The shortest player on the team is 6-1, tallest is 6-7. Pardon me, but hubba hubba. That’s my kind of team. (I like me the swimmer types.)

Oh …. and we just kicked China’s bottom, 8-4. I’m glad I’m watching this alone and not with Le Brother. He cannot watch without coaching and yelling the entire game; doesn’t matter who’s playing. I mean, the dude has a water polo goal in his home pool and holds some of his practices there. The Banshee could hang by her arms from the goal frame for over 10 seconds when she was two years old — with a sort of gleeful, world-domination smile on her face. The upper body strength in this family is frightening.

Uhm, I’m kind of crushing on Michael Phelps right now. Just won his first gold medal in swimming. I’m crushing on his big goofy smile and big goofy ears as he stands on the podium. I’m crushing on his teary-eyed mother waving at him from the stands.

But … what’s this? Okay. They’re messing up the National Anthem! Oh dear! It started late — missed the beginning and now it keeps repeating the opening stanza again and again! ACK! I’m having 3rd-grade-piano-recital flashbacks.

No. Oh, no. Instead of two verses before “And the rockets red glare,” there have been three. Phelps just keeps smiling. Another US swimmer, Ryan Lochte, won bronze, and as the camera pans to him, his brow furrows slightly. Like, what?? Phelps’ mom appears to be trying to sing along — but she can’t; no one can. Annd … wow … now the anthem just ended early on “gave proof through the night that our flag was still there …..” ka-chunk!

But hurrah for Michael Phelps and his giddy composure. He’s just completely joyful and toothy, raising his arms, waving his silly flowers at the crowd.

CONGRATULATIONS, MICHAEL PHELPS!!

…. longest one in Wimbledon history — 4 hrs. 48 min. — just went to Spain’s Rafael Nadal, 6-4 6-4 6-7 6-7 9-7, dethroning reigning champ Roger Federer, who was attempting to break his record of 5 consecutive Wimbledon titles — a record he shares with Bjorn Borg. Alas, not to be. Amazing match. Possibly the greatest ever. It was Rafael’s time, finally. He’d been so close before.

What a day! Two rain delays. Over 6 hours in total time elapsed. I swear, these men could NOT have been more evenly matched. It could have gone any way at any moment. I think it came down to a one-point difference if you total all the points together. I mean, at various points in the match, they kept showing a tally of the total points won by each player and they were literally TIED. The match ended at 9:15 p.m. London time. A sweaty Rafa crawled up into the stands to hug his parents and, oh, you know, the prince and princess from Spain. Hahahaha. So spontaneous and wonderful. Like, Rafael Nadal, you just won Wimbledon! You are totally sweaty and dirty from falling to the ground in victory, what are you going to do now? I’m going to crawl my sweaty winner’s butt over the broadcast booth into the stands to hug the prince and princess of Spain in all their sartorial splendor! And when the trophies were handed out, wow, such class from Roger Federer, the runner up. Calling Nadal a “deserving champion.” Uh, yes, definitely. I’m totally tearing up at this. Writing as it’s happening. Nadal in his comments thanked Roger Federer, said he is still No. 1, said how great he is for tennis, said “He’s won 5 times; this is just one for me.” These are the comments from the WINNER. Wow. Such humility — and in his somewhat broken English. Adorable and classy and beautiful. Man, I love tennis. Roger was clearly disappointed not to break the record — he will never break it now, not consecutive wins — but he went out of his way to acknowledge the unquestionable greatness of the man he’d bested.

John McEnroe waited back in the locker room to get some immediate reactions from the players and he — John McEnroe — felt so bad for Roger that he blurted, “Can I give you a hug?” I mean, this is JOHN FREAKIN’ MC ENROE; not Oprah Winfrey. He is not a “huggy” kind of guy at ALL. I’m laughing and crying because I love these moments; these moments that are spontaneous and awkward and real. What you see come out of people in the middle of it all. John McEnroe, tennis’ perennial bad boy, just HUGGED Roger Federer! I love him. (I must write more later on why I love McEnroe.) Seconds later, he talked to Nadal and Rafael thanked him for “hitting with him the other day.” McEnroe clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Well, thank you for lying.” Hahahahaha. I am in love with this whole darn thing.

AMAZING TENNIS. I didn’t want it to end.

Roger Federer, 5-time Champ!

Congratulations, Rafael Nadal, New Wimbledon Champion!!