Tag Games

Faithfully yours

Michael 5 Comments

Even though I’m still reeling from some of the most dictatorial events of all time that have happened and are happening in this country this week, I still have faith that I can find good news to celebrate. (And yes they are dictatorial. Find a German who was around in 1932 and ask if there is any difference between then there and here now.) (Anyway…)

What good went on this week?

The Wellbeing Research Centre releases its annual report on countries’ relative happiness. They polled 100,000 people from 147 countries on their perceived quality of life. This year’s report found Finland taking the top spot (for the eighth successive year), with Denmark, Iceland and Sweden, and The Netherlands rounding out the top five. Surprises included Costa Rica (sixth) and Mexico (tenth), both in the top ten for the first time. Other countries making it into the top ten are Norway, Luxemburg, and Israel. The good ole USA comes in at 24th. (In ‘Freedom” the U.S. comes in at #115. That puts us behind some democratic stalwarts like Mongolia (113), Venezuela (103), and Russia (102).)

From just as recently as 2021, statues in London honoring men have outpaced those honoring women.  Since then, more statues honoring women have been unveiled than in the entire second half of the 20th century. These included war heroes, pop culture icons, medical pioneers, and even royalty (Queen Elizabeth II, England’s longest reigning monarch, received her first statue in 2023.) Why should we care about what happens in London. Because women do things. So do all kinds of humas who are not white and/or orange males. Besides, they scored higher than us on the happiness scale so they must know something.

In April, the Salt Spring Island (B.C.) office of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) received the request from an out-of-town family to check on their elderly father who they’d not heard from. Officer Cst. Lloyd found the senior who appeared to have been living in unhealthy conditions, reluctant to engage, and adamant that he did not need help. The officer stayed with him for over an hour and developed a rapport with the older gentleman. In time, he agreed to be transported to the hospital to be checked. Last month, the man showed up at the RCMP Salt Spring Island office to share the news that he had unknowingly been bleeding internally for some time and, according to doctors, would have succumbed in the next 24 hours had it not been for the intervention of Officer Lloyd. No word if Officer Lloyd was fully masked and decked out in battle gear. I kind of think not. Canada also ranked ahead of us (way ahead of us) on the happiness scale.

Descendants of the Maya in Belize (aka indigenous people) are reviving an old game (even older than the NFL – oh my!). Pok-ta-pok, today the national sport of Belize, is billed as the world’s oldest team ballgame. It’s more curious news than good news but I wanted to bring it up because even though Belize came in one space behind the U.S. on the happiness scale, they ranked #1 in freedom. See what happens when you are nice to your indigenous neighbors.

I have faith you enjoyed this roundup of good news. Hmm. Did I use ‘faith’ properly, or could another word been better. Check out what we wrote about faith in An Article of Faith, this week’s Uplift post at ROAMcare.

Oh, if you’re interested, here’s is a link to the World Happiness Report dashboard compiled by the Gallup organization from this year’s wellbeing report.

Fourth (million) and ten

Michael 2 Comments

I can’t help it. It’s been too long. I am going there. I have to do it. It’s time to fuel the fire. So let’s open the controversy right now. I don’t like football.

There, I said it. I don’t like football.

I don’t see the point. There’s no real skill involved, no sort of strategy, and it’s so boring! They budget 3-1/2 hours of TV time to play a 60 minute game, that has a total of maybe 8-10 minutes of action. Bowling has more action. Even golf has more action and I think that’s a waste masquerading as sport also.

But boy people go nuts for that “game.” Billions of dollars change hands every year because of it. According the BetMGM the average team salary of just the players is over $188 million. The minimum salary per player for 2022 is $705,000.  Let than sink in. Everybody out there who will make that much this year, please raise your hand. Anybody? No? Okay, how about this.  That $705,000 is $45,000 more than last year’s minimum salary. Who out there got a $45,000 raise this year for being the lowest paid employee? Hmm. How about, how many of you make $45,000 a year. Ah, finally, I see some hands.  NFL practice squad players earn a minimum of $11,500 per week, which comes to $207,000 for 18 weeks of work. These are the guys the teams use to play act as the opposing team during practices and possibly develop into “full time” team members. Think of them as football interns.

Of course, players aren’t the only ones on the field during a game. Also roaming around between the goal posts are the 8 referees officiating each game (technically 1 referee, 1 umpire, 5 judges and 1 replay official). They make an average of $205,000 per year. And we won’t even talk about the coaches. (But the lowest paid NFL head coach will make $3 million, but I don’t want to talk about it.)   

Enough about what people make playing the game. What about what people make playing on the game. ESPN estimates over 45.5 million people will bet more than $12 billion this year. The teams will split about $270 million of that.

And then there are some people who actually go to the games. They will spend about $10 million for tickets which represent only 1.25% of a team’s revenue. Three billion dollars will be spent on NFL merchandise, 2/3 of that on jerseys. It seems you aren’t allowed into a stadium without wearing a replica jersey. In case the team needs an emergency fill in? 

You might think I am bitter about how much money is generated by a group of people who were not finalists in their high schools “most likely to succeed” voting nor had to worry about which way to flip their mortarboard tassels. (If you understood that reference you probably aren’t an NFL football player.) No, I just can’t figure out how football became the American National Religion. Twenty-two men squat across from each other over a not round ball, officially a “prolate spheroid” (seriously – look it up), and after a series of grunts, they hurl themselves into each other with much banging and clanging of protective equipment. After everyone falls down, they pick themselves up, congratulate themselves on a fine display of testosterone, mill about for a while, then line up and do it again.

Twenty-one million TV viewers tuned into the NFL opener between Buffalo and Los Angeles last Thursday. That’s down from the 25 million who watched last year’s opening game. Hmm. I wonder. Maybe those 4 million people who have seen the light.

Blog Art 4

What we do today is because of the encouragement of those who came before us. The generations following us are built on what we share with them – facts and visions. Where will your visions of today fit into the world of tomorrow? Read a tale of encouraging visions at http://www.ROAMcare.org. It will be worth the few minutes.  

 

A Sporting Proposition

Michael 10 Comments
I was all set to go off and a rant about something or other and then I heard this topic on the radio yesterday and I said, “Yes, yes, I agree 100%. I must tell the world!” What could that be that instilled so much passion on a Sunday afternoon? Golf. More specifically, my intense dislike for golf.
 
I’m sorry, but yes, I hate golf. I think I’ve played one complete round of golf in my life. My long life. I’m sure I played one round only because I rarely give up on anything. I may not like it but if I signed up for it, I’ll give it my best try. I tried. It didn’t. 
 
Especially now with opportunities to do almost nothing, golf courses are apparently doing a booming business. I just don’t get the point. It seems so random to me but if a billion and a half people want to wander around in the hot sun wearing carrying 3,090 pounds of equipment on their backs and none of it can be used to bake a good cookie, well I say to each his own. But not my own.
 
But here’s the thing I get even less, professional golf. They claim it’s a sport but come on now. Where are the fans, real fans, with hats and jerseys and tailgating in the country club parking lot before the tournament? “Tournament” is pushing it. When was the last time there was an office pool with golfer brackets? And a real sport would have walk up music blaring from the PA system when a golfer approaches the tee. Those few fans you do see following along don’t seem terribly fanatic. No wild cheers when a particularly well hit ball goes where its supposed to go (assuming you can actually see where the ball goes), no boos for the referee when a ball is called out of bounds, no jeers for the golfer who plunks a shot into a water or sand hazard. While I’m on the topic of crowd noises, what’s with the TV announcers and all that whispering? They’re hanging out a mile away from the action inside an air conditioned control room yet they speak barely loud enough for the sound engineer to recognize human speech while they do all they can not to distract the professional. Really? 
 
So, no, I don’t like golf. Sorry if I’ve offended you. I understand how polarizing this topic may be but I feel it’s important to be able to exercise my freedom of speech. But I refuse to exercise it on the links.
 
NoGolf
 

I’m Board

Michael 2 Comments
Long before the pandemic hit my corner of the world I was already spending more time indoors alone than probably healthy, exploring few opportunities that would take me to other places that a grocery store, or a pharmacy, lab, a doctors office or other medical facility, or outside for a solo walk. It’s like I was made for this crisis. But I will say that even I am getting a little bored. I’m sure I wouldn’t be so bored if I could only get a little board! You know I haven’t worked for quite a few years now. I had settled into the routine of, if not a refined retired gentleman at least one not quite as bad as a crotchety old fogie. That’s because I kept my brain young. Yes, I am using past tense. I believe I’m slipping.
 
Even though the forays to the outside world were not often and typically instigated by one if the aforementioned reasons, I almost always made some detour on the way home. Perhaps I would stop at one of the big time mega-marts and wander the aisles getting some exercise and often some deals from the clearance shelves. Maybe I would find a local diner and compare its grillmaster’s patty melt to the last visited diner’s offering. Maybe I’d browse a thrift shop because they are just fun to walk around in and I’ve found a remarkable selection of candy dishes in them over the years. Even if I was feeling adventurous today, and lucky enough to venture out where others may be, those places aren’t open anyway.
 
When extended outdoor time wasn’t desired or desirable like in times of freezing weather (which we seem to have 9 months out of the year) I would amuse myself baking oatmeal cookies or concocting a new marinade for something on the grill. Now though I’m limiting my flour to bead and pizza dough and experimentation time (not to mention counter space) has given way to knead, rise, knead, rise, rise again, bake, slice, eat repeat.
 
Then there is that portion of the day I called down time. That would be the time I’d spend watching an old movie, reading a book, or going through the whole of a newspaper following stories missed during the morning headline review, laughing at the funnies and doing the crossword puzzle. The papers have all stopped publishing hard copies, the library and bookstores are closed and I can read only so much electronic prose, and even I am getting tired of old movies (except for anything with Audrey Hepburn). (Nobody can ever tire of Audrey Hepburn.) (Nobody!)
 
Add to those losses the loss of Sundays with the Daughter. (Yes, yes, of course this should be at the top of the and indeed it is but I had to keep it for last one mentioned to build dramatic effect. If you don’t like it, go wrote your own post – sheesh!) (But don’t leave yet. We’re finally getting to the point of this post.) Sometimes after we cooked for a couple hours then ate for a couple hours we’d pull out a game board and play for a couple hours. But not just any old game. Our game was, and will be again, Backgammon.
 
If you’re a chess player there are apps and live sites and virtual games around very corner. I know first hand that there are indeed crossword puzzle apps that you can play all day long and not be interrupted by a single ad. For free! Word games abound, arcade games are electronic naturals, even “jigsaw” puzzles can be assembled without interruption on line or in apps. But backgammon…
 
Indeed there are some backgammon apps but every one I ever tried forces you into watching ads to earn tokens to build moves with. And there are a few backgammon live sites where you can play against AI or a distant opponent. These are few and the opponents are fewer. (And I think the AI cheats. Nobody can throw that many doubles.) Besides, backgammon needs to be experienced in more than two dimensions and with more than just sight. You have to hear the dice rolling in the cup before bouncing across the felt, you need to feel the smoothness of the tiles as you slide them along the points, you have to see you opponent slump when you bump her or him to the rail or bear off your last stone. The Mesopotamians weren’t thinking computer when they drew the first points and carved the first stones 3,000 years before Jesus walked the Earth. Backgammon is to be experienced, not pixelated.
 
But this isolation won’t last forever. Until then I’ll still take my set out each Sunday. Now I just polish it. Eventually I’ll get to play it. 
 
 
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Hurry Up and Wait

Michael 3 Comments

It is annual exam time and I’ve been spending a lot of time in doctors’ offices this week. A fixture of doctors’ offices is the waiting room. Some waiting rooms are actually nice pleasant places to be that make lasting impressions on the patients there. I recall from my youth the dentist who had fish tanks, aquaria even, with sunken pirate ships, treasure chests, and probably fish but as a six year old boy I mostly remember the pirate stuff. Some waiting rooms are actually one eyebrow raising (which I have never been able to master) like the gastroenterologist’s office who had an aviary, a bird cage even, where several colorful birds and pages noting why they were actually beneficial in a doctor’s office and probably plaques to identify the birds but as a sixty year old waiting for a colonoscopy I mostly remember just that there were birds. But mostly doctor’s office waiting rooms are sort of bland with sort of cheap furniture with sort of old magazines with small screen TVs hanging in an upper corner of the room sort of over there by the sliding glass window that somebody opens at irregular intervals to check in new arrivals, copy insurance cards, and distribute privacy notices. To me waiting rooms seem almost oxymoronic. Not much waiting goes on in them, and except for the one with the birds, most don’t have much room. The real waiting goes on in “the other room.” The exam room. The surgery in 18th century colonial speak. Back there.

We all know the drill. The office nurse sticks his or her head out into the waiting room, calls out a first name hoping there is only one Augustine (thank you HIPPA), leads Mr. X down the hall to the scale, then places him into “the other room.” There things start optimistically. A blood pressure is taken, the little finger thingie that measures oxygen in your blood is put on your finger, maybe some questions about changes in meds or general health are asked and answered, notes are made on the computer, a smile is flashed, the line “The doctor will be right in” is sing songed your way (sing sang?), and the door is pulled shut behind her. Or him. And now we wait. There are never any old magazines in the little room. Maybe you brought your phone or tablet and still have enough battery power to play a game or thirteen. But you don’t because you know you’ll be moving up to level 57 when the knock on the door comes.

DoctorSignSo I play a different game while I wait in “the other room.” Guess The Footsteps. For example, if I know somebody ahead of me went in with a walker and I hear the slide of it I might figure that person is on the way out so then from recalling how many patients went in between him and me I can guess if I have enough time to finish that crossword puzzle. If I hear two sets of footsteps that’s the nurse and new patient coming in so that doesn’t help with figuring out how much longer it will be. A single set needs evaluating before I can determine its significance. A slightly hesitant pace might be a patient leaving making certain to take no wrong turns. (I’ve noticed that although you are always escorted to the exam room it’s about a 50/50 chance somebody will accompany you out. And yes I have gotten lost along the way.) (Sigh.) A fast pace barely heard through the closed door is the nurse returning to the waiting room to bring back another patient. A fast pace clearly heard approaching and receding is the office person who handles the billing and probably the only staff member other than the doctor not in scrubs and tennis shoes. A purposeful step that pauses outside your door with an accompanying rustle of paper is the doctor arriving at the wrong door and putting your chart back in the holder mounted on the wall next to the door. And somehow with all that marching up and down the hall, when the doctor does knock once and open the door to finally get on with the main event, I never hear those steps.

So that’s how I spend my time waiting. It might not be all that much fun but I got a whole blog post out of it! I wonder if this was how Milton and Bradley got started.

Learning Life, Again

Michael Leave a comment

It will be hockey nights in just a couple more. NHL hockey returns October 3. In recognition of this momentous occasion I’m repeating one of my favorite posts, “Everything I Know About Being a Gentleman I Learned From Hockey.” Why? Because everything I learned about being a gentleman I learned from hockey, that’s why. If only politicians watched more hockey.

So, from November 2016, I give you…

When I was at the hockey game this weekend I got to thinking how much as a society we can learn from hockey. Yes, the sport that is the butt of the joke “I went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out,” is the same sport that can be our pattern for good behavior.

Stay with me for a minute or two and think about this. It started at the singing of the national anthem. I’ve been to many hockey, baseball, football, and soccer games. Only at the hockey games have I ever been in an arena filled with people actually singing along. Only at the hockey games are all of the players reverent to the tradition of honoring the country where they just happen to be playing even though they come from around the world – Canada, Russia, Germany, Sweden, Finland, even a few Americans.

A decent dose of nationalism notwithstanding, hockey has much to offer the gentility. Even those fights. Or rather any infraction. If a player breaks the rules he is personally penalized for it. Ground isn’t given or relinquished like on a battlefield, free throws or kicks aren’t awarded to the aggrieved party like victors in a tort battle. Nope, if you do something wrong you pay the consequences and are removed from play for a specified period in segregation from the rest of your teammates. No challenges, no arguments, no time off for good behavior. Do the crime. Pay the time. In the penalty box. Try doing that to a school child who bullies and you’ll have some civil liberty group claiming you’re hurting the bully by singling him out.

Hockey is good at singling out people but in a good way. At last Saturday’s game the opposing team has two members who had previously played for the home team. During a short break in the action a short montage of those two players was shown on the scoreboard screens and they were welcomed back by the PA announcer. And were cheered and applauded by the fans in attendance. There weren’t seen as “the enemy.” Rather they were friends who had moved away to take another job and were greeted as friends back for a day.

While play is going on in a hockey game play goes on in a hockey game. Only if the puck is shot outside the playing ice, at a rules infraction, or after a goal is scored does play stop. Otherwise, the clock keeps moving and play continues. Much like life. If you’re lucky you might get to ask for one time out but mostly you’re at the mercy of the march of time. Play begins. After a while play ends. If you play well between them, you’ll be ok.

The point of hockey is to score goals. Sometimes goals are scored ridiculously easily, sometimes goals seem to be scored only because of divine intervention. Most times, goals are a result of working together, paying attention to details, and wanting to score more than the opposing team wants to stop you from scoring. There is no rule that says after one team scores the other team gets to try. It all goes back to center ice and starts out with a random drop of the puck. If the team that just scored controls the puck and immediately scores again, oh well.

Since we’re talking about scoring, the rules of hockey recognize that it takes more than an individual to score goals. Hockey is the only sport where players are equally recognized not just for scoring goals but for assisting others who score goals. Maybe you should remember that the next time someone at work says you’ve done a good job.

handshakeThe ultimate good job is winning the championship. The NHL hockey championship tournament is a grueling event. After an 82 game regular season, the top 16 teams (8 from each conference) play a four round best of seven elimination tournament. It takes twenty winning games to win the championship. That’s nearly 25% as long as the regular season. It could take as long as 28 games to play to the finish. That’s like playing another third of a season. After each round only one team moves on. And for each round, every year, for as many years as the tournament has ever been played, and for as many years as the tournament will ever be played, when that one team wins that fourth game and is ready to move on, they and the team whose season has ended meet at center ice and every player on each team shakes the hand of his opponent player and coach, wishing them well as they move on and thanking them for a game well played. No gloating. No whining. No whimpering. Only accepting.

So you go to a fight and a hockey game breaks out. It could be a lot worse.

 

 

The Almost Open

Michael 10 Comments

Picture this. It’s late on a Sunday afternoon. You’re full from too much Father’s Day celebratory luncheon, it’s too hot to take a walk, it’s even too hot to go swimming, and you’re not in the mood to read. You just want to sit. If it was 40 years ago you’d do your imitation of a couch potato.

Then you remember, even though it’s not your sport, you know this is that weekend. The Weekend. The weekend that gets capitalized   The one with the biggest names, the longest drives, the finesse when it’s needed, the trophy, the payoff. The U. S. Open.

Of badminton.

USABadmintonI didn’t set out to watch the U.S. Open of Badminton. I didn’t set out to watch the U. S. Open of Golf. (That’s the one you were thinking of, wasn’t it?) I wasn’t in the mood to do anything so I sat in my chair. (Yes, I have a “my chair.” Every male over the age of 40 has a “my chair.”) And after sitting therein (thereon?) (there?) for some time, I decided I needed to do something other than just sit. So I reached for the remote and remembered about that golf thingie. But I didn’t know what station was carrying it so I pushed the button with the picture of the microphone and said “U S Open” (I might have said it with the periods after the “U” and the “S” but I didn’t hear them so I’m not including them here) figuring it would take me to that golf thingie. Instead it brought up a screen for me to clarify which “U. S. Open” (I saw the periods on the screen so I am including them here). Who knew?

Since I was given a choice, I picked badminton. Wow. It’s not your backyard after picnic probably most played on Father’s Day badminton. First of all they use a real court with real poles holding up a real net. We always had to hold up one end of the net with the clothesline pole and make the sidewalk to the tool shed one back boundary and the hedges with the red berries you’re not allowed to eat the other. The other thing is they had a lot of shuttlecocks. We had three. One was stuck in the gutter and would remain there forever. One we couldn’t use in case we lost the one we were using. They certainly didn’t need a lot of shuttlecocks. I watched them for several sets and they never once flung the one in play out of anyone’s reach.

That’s another thing. They played it sets. And kept score. Even though the court looks like a 3/4 scale tennis court the scoring is more like table tennis. Unlike tennis, or golf for that matter, the crowd is obviously into the competition. Tennis and golf spectators might be into their respective competitions but you could never tell. Everybody at those events is so reserved. Even the TV announcers whisper. Not in badminton. These fans cheer their favorites, they scream their approval at a diving save, and they openly applaud a well-placed lob. When the contestants entered the arena it could have been 1974 with Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier coming down the aisle at Madison Square Garden. The lights, the music, the cheers! They don’t do that at Wimbledon.

Overall, it was a good way to spend a late afternoon. I’m not sure that I’ll track the progress of the world class badminton players on their March to the Olympics (yes, it is), but if I’m not doing anything next Sunday, I have an alternate to watching golf.

 

More Lessons on Ice

Michael 5 Comments

When they were picking teams for dodge ball in the playground behind the school, were you one of the last to go? OK, clearly I’m old. You can tell by the references to dodge ball, playground, and the picking of teams for any activity not associated with trivia night at the bar. Even if you are too young to remember these, or too savvy to acknowledge them, you probably have heard of such things as being “picked last in grade school for..” in many episodes of The Big Bang Theory. And you know it didn’t get them down. They all now make lots of money and are really big stars. I’m sorry, I’m mixing real life with fantasy.

But somewhere being unwanted and reaching a modicum of pinnacle-ness of success is happening right here in North American reality. Those are the NHL Vegas Golden Knights. The first expansion team to reach the Stanley Cup Final and proof once again that all you need to know to survive and succeed you can learn from hockey.

Ok, first things first. I said the first expansion team to the reach the final round and you keep hearing in the sports reports that they are the second. Technically, the St. Louis Blues reached the final in their inaugural year but only because in 1967 the NHL decided to make one conference out of all six expansion teams and the other one out of the existing six teams, thereby guaranteeing an expansion team a spot in the finals. Five of the six “Eastern Division” existing teams finished the season with more points than any of the six expansion “Western Division” teams and the Montreal Canadiens swept the final round in four games.

VGN

Vegas Golden Knights

Enough of history though. Back to the future when the Golden Knights will be the first expansion team to get to the Stanley Cup Final by winning their way there. With a team made up of a bunch of guys nobody wanted. When the expansion draft that stocked the Vegas team with players took place last year, each existing team was allowed to protect 10 or 12 players depending on how many offense versus defense skaters were included on the protected list and that included a goaltender. Each NHL team can dress 24 players (usually 22 skaters and 2 goaltenders) per game. So the existing teams could protect up to half of who they would put on the ice for a typical game. And Vegas could select one of the remaining “bottom half” talent.

And out of this group of players not wanted by anybody else, players who call themselves the “Golden Misfits,” skated a team who finished with the fifth most points, won the fourth most games, and scored the third most goals of any of the 31 teams in the league. And they are about to begin the fourth and final round of the Stanley Cup Tournament which this year will determine if misfits is synonymous with champion.

Moral of the story? Being picked last for dodge ball isn’t the end of the world. Don’t treat it like it is.

 

Is it just me . . .

Michael 6 Comments

I was going to end the title here with “…or is it chili in here?” in honor of National Chili Day (get it, is it chili in here? I crack myself up), but then I thought better of it and opted not to start a new Internet controversy. There are arguments enough on line that I don’t have to add fuel to the fire and start shouting matches between the bean camp and the no beaners, fights between the beef chunkers versus the ground beef crowd, or debates over whether vegetarian chili is or is not mutually exclusive. No, I’m not going to be the cause of any more strife along the world’s interwebs.

Instead I thought I’d pose a more calm inducing topic to the world today. Does anybody else think that snowboarding should be banned from the Olympics? Like forever. Plus an extra 20 years for good measure!

It has nothing to do with whether snowboarding is a “sport” and are snowboarders “athletes.” That would be no and no. But neither is the biathlon and I have nothing against that being in the Olympics. And before anybody gets too excited, curling is a sport and curlers are athletes and it without a doubt belongs in the Olympics. (Contrary to popular belief curling is not just shuffleboard on ice. If anything it more closely resembles bocce on ice and it is a travesty that lawn bowling is not an Olympic sport in the summer games yet beach volleyball is. But I digress. If you’re interested in finding out why bocce belongs in the Olympics you can read what I said about that here.)

SnowboardingIOC18So what do I have against snowboarding and snowboarders? Nothing personally. It can be entertaining and they are talented but it’s not a sport. It cannot be quantified. There is no time or distance measured to objectively determine the winner. If there was a downhill snowboard race and the winner determined by who gets there first, that would be a sport worthy of inclusion in the winter games.

Ah ha! you say. What then about skating? Sorry, that has to go too. It’s been around since the first winter Olympics but it should have never been allowed and it has to go. If the figure skaters and ice dancers (does anybody really know the difference?) want to compete for a medal on ice, let them try speed skating or hockey. Or curling even. Otherwise I’ll be happy to enjoy their contributions to a genteel society when they show up in town with Disney on Ice. While we’re at it, freestyle skiing is out also as is ski jumping unless they agree to ditch the style points and award medals only for distance. Not giving yourself a concussion on landing would be nice but not essential if the length is there.

The Olympics have hung around almost 2000 years to celebrate the fastest, the strongest, the highest. Not who can spin around in the air with a surfboard strapped to his feet the prettiest.

Thank you for your unwavering support and agreement.

And Happy Chili Day.

Ground. With beans.

And yes, it is.

 

For the Glory of Sport

Michael 2 Comments

The first of the 2018 Winter Olympic Games will be held today. And the opening ceremony for the 2018 Winter Olympic Games will be held tomorrow. Yes, I noticed that also.

Getting things twisted around like that is nothing new for the First Olympic Winter Games. You can go back to the first Winter Olympics in 1924 to confirm that.

OL1924In 1924 athletes from sixteen nations gathered in Chamonix France from January 25 to February 5 to compete in 16 events. On January 26, 1924 (the day after the opening ceremonies), Charles Jewtraw, an American from Lake Placid New York, finished the 500 meter speed skating event in 44.0 seconds to win the first gold medal of the games.

The other events held at Chamonix including Four Man Men’s Bobsleigh, 18km and 50km Men’s Cross Country Skiing, Men’s Curling, Men’s and Women’s Individual and Mixed Pair’s Figure Skating, Men’s Ice Hockey, Men’s Military Patrol (a sort of 4 man team biathlon), Men’s Individual Nordic Combined, Men’s Individual Ski Jumping, and Men’s 1000m, 1500m, 5000m, and Combined Speed Skating. Two hundred, fifty eight athletes participated in these sports; forty-nine medals were awarded.

The last medal awarded went to another American athlete. Anders Haugen was awarded the bronze medal in Men’s Individual Ski Jumping. He was awarded the medal on September 12, 1974. He was originally scored in fourth place but was advanced to third when fifty years later an error was noted in the original results. It’s interesting to note Mr. Haugen is the only American to have ever won an Olympic medal in a ski jumping event.

The 1924 games were opened on January 25 by French National Olympic and Sports Committee member Gaston Vidal. The opening was accompanied by a parade of athletes, each country led by its flag bearer who took the official oath on behalf of his team.

We swear. We will take part in the Olympic Games in a spirit of chivalry, for the honour of our country and for the glory of sport.

French skier and member of France’s Men’s Military Patrol team Camille Mandrillon delivered the oath to the public on behalf of all athletes assembled there. The games began the following day and medals were awarded at the closing ceremony on February 5. In his remarks at the closing, International Olympic Committee president Pierre de Coubertin stated:

Winter sports have about them a certain purity, and that is why I was inclined to support and nurture them in this Olympic environment.

So where were things twisted around? The Chamonix games of 1924 was in 1924 officially “a week of international winter sport.” In May 1925 at their annual congress,the IOC retroactively designated the 1924 games as the “First Olympic Winter Games.”

What’s that saying? Right. Better late than never.

Olympic Flag

Photo: International Olympic Committee, Olympics.org