Many reasons have been given for why we like sport so much. Tribalism. Throwbacks to our fight-or-flight reflexes. Vicariously living through the talents of others. Freudian reactions to balls and big bats and sticks. Beer.
But what causes some sporting moments to become not merely great, but forever etched in our memories? Continue reading
NASCAR driver Kyle Busch was ticked going 128 mph in a 45 mph zone and claimed to be very sorry. He was testing out a new sports car and needed to know if it could jump a river while being chased by Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane. The bigger crime was that he thought buying a yellow Lexus was a good idea. SFGate
On a twisting, winding, downhill road, 50 miles per hour in a car would probably feel like a steerable roller coaster. The same road at 50 miles per hour on a bicycle would probably feel more like an out of control nightmare. For cyclists, speeds of even 70 mph and up are part of the job with only their helmet, bike, and superior instincts to buffer against the unforgiving combination of gravity and asphalt. Even world class cyclists can fall victim to any combination of bad luck, mechanical failure, and a momentary (read split-second) lapse in judgment. Continue reading
Circle up, virgins, because today Clarity83 and I are going to tell you about this thing called the Hash House Harriers!
If you hear someone talking about going to “the hash,” “hashing,” or being a “hasher,” that person is probably not talking about drugs. It is likely that the person is part of a club that lovingly calls itself “a drinking club with a running problem,” known as The Hash House Harriers a.k.a. the hash.
In the tough, testosterone-filled world of men’s professional sports, there are not many, if any, openly gay employees at any level. Certainly no players, and apparently, no executives. That changed yesterday when the President and CEO of the NBA’s Phoenix Suns, Rick Welts, came out in a story in the New York Times.
In rather morbid sports news of the day, Twitter was a-twitter late last night with the news that New York Rangers hockey forward Derek Boogaard, 28, was found dead in his apartment yesterday. No cause of death or reason has been provided at this time.
Recently we heard BadwinP explain to us why we should be watching Aussie Rules Football. Today I thought I’d continue this trend of exposing you to sports that the typical ESPN-producer douchebag has never heard of. Continue reading
When he’s not releasing his birth certificate to you racist bastards, or personally flying Blackhawk helicopters into Pakistani airspace to kill Bin Laden with his bare hands, Barry H. Obama is taking on the important shit that’s affecting our world, like college football’s playoff system:
(CNN) — In a letter to the NCAA disclosed Wednesday, the Justice Department said it has received several requests for an antitrust investigation into the current Bowl Championship Series system…
“Serious questions continue to arise suggesting that the current BCS system may not be conducted consistent with the competition principles expressed in federal antitrust laws,” Assistant Attorney General Christine Varney told NCAA President Mark Emmert.
If President Barry kills Osama and delivers us a PROPER GODDAMN COLLEGE FOOTBALL PLAYOFF SYSTEM in a single week, it will go down as the greatest achievement since Bristol Palin’s son Trig singlehandedly destroyed Wonkette out of pure vengeance and wrath.
So Dancing Queen and I were Gchatting Saturday night, which inadvertently turned into a not-quite-liveblog of the Victor Ortiz vs. Andre Berto boxing match on HBO. Neither of us are boxing experts and we don’t know if our little Crass experiment will work or not, but we hope you enjoy it.
A little background about this fight (which DQ did not have prior to tuning in): This was a fight between Andre Berto and “Vicious” Victor Ortiz from the MGM Grand Theater at Foxwoods. Berto, the Welterweight World Champion and undefeated star, was a 2004 Haitian Olympian who skipped a career-boosting fight with Sugar Shane Mosley when the earthquake happened in Haiti, was the odds on favorite. Up-and-comer Ortiz, promoted by Oscar de la Hoya, was looking to make his mark on the scene in a new weight class. His personal story (link is included at the end – muahahaha) makes him quite compelling.
By most accounts, this has been the fight of the year, and DQ and Bots have to agree. DQ only wishes that this fight had been in Vegas and that she were there, too, so she could see the ladies’ cray-cray outfits. Two words: plastic catsuits.
**DQ apologizes in advance for her sailor language. She currently has soap in her mouth.**
9:54 DING! DING! Here we go:
9:57 PM HBO shows the undercard: Amir Khan vs. Johnny McCloskey in Manchester, England. McCloskey happens to be Irish.
Bots: oh my, they’re showing a fight from the uk first. and the irish boxer fights EXACTLY like the Notre Dame mascot.
DQ: what’s his name
Bots: well i’m watching boxing on hbo.
DQ: i was wondering
Bots: McCloskey. he’s fighting Amir Khan who is the heavy favorite.
Bots: so when is this royal wedding i’m supposed to liveblog?
DQ: april 29th!
Bots: oh ok. i thought maybe it was today and i missed it.
DQ: no such luck there, buddy
Bots: no i want to liveblog it. i feel like i could add a lot to the experience.
Bots: this is hilarious. they should put a green leprechaun hat on him.
DQ: uh yeah. i would say so. [at McCloskey] throw a punch man!
10:00 PM – DQ notices McCloskey is clad in extremely shiny boxing shorts
DQ: doesn’t it do something to your credibility to have sequins on your shorts?
Bots: haha. they are silly.
DQ: hey! maybe you and i should liveblog this!
Bots: he looks like a disco ball.
DQ: get a girl’s perspective on a man thing
Bots: gooch and i talked about it but we may do the pacquiao – mosley fight.
DQ: [regarding disco ball pants] dude is getting his ass beat
Bots: the leprechaun isn’t nearly fast enough to fight khan.
DQ: kahn seems to have a longer reach
Bots: he does. by an inch and a half. he’s also like 7 years younger. and his trainer is freddie roach.
DQ: i dunno what significance that has
Bots: oh. freddie roach is pacquiao’s trianer. he’s the best in the biz.
10:05 PM – Someone in the crowd is blowing what we think is a vuvuzela.
DQ: take away that fucking horn!
Bots: is that a vuvuzela?
DQ: it’s higher pitched
Bots: boxing is so fucking livebloggable. it’s such a crazy scene of a sport.
DQ: i think you just made up a word. it would be more fun if we could see the crazy outfits the women are wearing
Bots: oh i’m sure.
10:17 – Somehow the conversation turns to places we’d like to visit.
Bots: i love the geography out west. i really love the west actually. i should be home on the range, riding horses, getting into gunfights with banditos.
DQ: haha. that’s what we do
Bots: not fucking going to the stripmall to buy socks at target. uh oh. the irishman is taking punches.
DQ: yikes!
10:20 The fight doctor calls the fight after a small cut opens up on McCloskey’s forehead.
Bots: wtf. doctor’s decision or something? BOOOOOO! Do not like. the cut was from an accidental headbutt. crowd is NOT happy! Oscar De La Hoya sighting.
DQ briefly switched to SATC 2 because she likes to punish herself. She soon decided that watching men beating the hell out of each other was a major improvement over SATC 2 so she switched back to boxing.
DQ: they stopped the fight?
Bots: yep. the irishman is mad because “people paid their hard earned money for the pay per view.” hilarious. no american fighter would EVER give a shit about the fans! hahaha
DQ: i heard that
Bots: those horns. ugh. make it stop!
DQ: i’d choke that fucker
Bots: i’d shove that horn up his ass! /no homophob hahaha
DQ: haha
Bots: Larry Merchant insults the fight doctor. he is totally senile. boxing is the crazy cousin of the sports world.
10:33 – The main event (Ortiz vs. Berto) begins and Ortiz comes out wearing a giant gold and white sobrero and a bizarre silver tunic-like garment with the American flag, Mexican flag and a giant Kansas Jayhawks logo on the chest.
Bots: oh lord. what is Ortiz wearing?
DQ: um, i have no words for that
Bots: hilarious.
they were talking about his story earlier. apparently he and his brother were abandoned in a small kansas town as kids and they like lived in a barn or something for a while. crazy.
DQ: wow. terrible. did he go to KU? i saw that on his get-up
Bots: i highly doubt it. not a lot of college students in boxing! i love boxing but it just chews you up. it’s brutal if you peek behind the curtain.
10:36 – The ring announcer is a blue-eyed, white guy with ponytailed dreadlocks, an extremely well-groomed goatee and ring announcer voice.
DQ: theeeeeee fuck?
Bots: YES! I want this guy at my next party!
DQ: i don’t like how he is holding the mic. he is confusing to me
Bots: His suit is fantastic too. boxing is insane.
DQ: 12 rounds is just ridiculous. TOO MANY!
Bots: who is the guy with the mohawk behind ortiz? this is crazy.
DQ: he is confusing me too
Bots: and they’re all wearing those reflective suits like ortiz.
DQ: please don your tin foil suits!
Bots: this announcer kind of sucks. despite the awesome hair.
DQ: you think so?
Bots: i want to like him but he’s no michael buffer.
DQ: why did he just say ortiz, twice
Bots: don’t ask why. just go with it!
DQ: i was just wondering if there was a reason! yeah, that guy berto is fucking diesel
Bots: he’s really, really quick.
DQ: he did the double name thing again!
Bots: this announcer! what the what?????
DQ: the HBO commentator is talking to himself
Bots: i know. we should be liveblogging this!
DQ: WOW look at berto’s lats!
Ortiz surprised everyone by pummeling Berto right away in the first round.
DQ: the fuck!
Bots: berto is wasted tired.
DQ: berto is beat
Bots: we should be commentators
DQ: he got rocked!
Bots: berto is just blatantly missing on his punches. not even close to landing them.
DQ: wow. ortiz is kicking his ass
Bots: berto’s confidence seems gone
DQ: he doesn’t know what is happening. he is not well prepared for this fight
Bots: well he just knocked down ortiz! this is amazing!
DQ: i know! i rewound
Bots: i want this fight to keep going. no KO’s yet!
DQ: the slow mo is nutso. Ortiz’s right is a hammer
Bots: these guys are just slugging away at each other.
DQ: he can duck like a …duck
Bots: berto? yeah he’s fast.
DQ: [at Berto] get off the ropes! ortiz is crazed
Bots: ortiz is taunting him a bit. hi def is the ONLY way to watch this shit!
DQ: or on an old giant 32 inch TV! i should be a coach. the commentator just told him to get off the ropes which i just said
Bots: berto’s corner seemed like a disaster. jeez. while ortiz is relaxed.
DQ: his corner is as shaken as berto
Bots: what a cute usher over there on the left.
DQ: oh hello. haha “not 50 cent”
Bots: Fitty and Floyd Mayweather in the house.
DQ: chelsea handler is going to get blasted tonight
Bots: chelsea handler? why? is she there?
DQ: she’s with 50
Bots: why am i even surprised? it’s boxing. crazy stuff like that always happens.
DQ: i keep thinking antoine dodson is there
11:07 – In the seventh round Berto makes a huge comeback and knocks Ortiz down.
Bots: well shit. berto has his legs back.
DQ: [mixing metaphors] berto is swinging for the fences
Bots: holy shit.
DQ: dem some hay fucking hay makers. good night ortiz. this is the best fight i’ve ever seen
Later in the same round, Berto himself gets knocked down.
Bots: oh my! berto just flops backward. mind ASPLODE. i need another fucking bourbon.
DQ: pour one for me! [watching replay of massive blow to Bertos’ chin] GAWD! did you see that?
Bots: incredible. this is why i love boxing. it’s pure drama sometimes.
DQ: now i want berto to win even more
Bots: yup. go berto.
DQ: come on berto get those legs back
Bots: berto was wobbling like a drunken leprechaun there!
DQ: is that bill cosby! [it was not]
Bots: did you see the cos? I swear i saw the cos like four times. [still not] must be the coogi sweater.
DQ: jello pudding pops
Bots: if they show 50 cent but no cosby, cosby is going to slap someone.
DQ: oh i see your usher lady
Bots: haha. THERE SHE IS. She is pretty fetching in that bright red blazer!
DQ: i think she is wearing gloves too. Fancy!
Bots: she’s a star usher. also, the one photographer on the right looks like he will sell you some pig liquor out in the parking lot after the fight.
DQ: pig liquor?
Bots: moonshine
DQ: did you see the one on the right? he looks like the elephant man
Bots: that’s pig liquor guy.
DQ: perfect. ortiz keeps hitting berto in the back of the head
Bots: ortiz! what are you doing? stupid. should have lost a point this time!
DQ: okay. there are just too many rounds
Bots: no! they used to go like 15 rounds back in ali’s day.
DQ: [watching replay of berto getting pummeled] gaaaaaawddamn
Bots: And it obviously had no ill effects…
DQ: true, true. those guys all ended up as rhodes scholars
Bots: i’m going to hell for that, aren’t i?
DQ: i’ll meet you there. berto is done. and then he’s back!
Bots: it’s amazing. he’s taking like huge combinations of punches, then counters right at ortiz’s face.
DQ: if berto is going to win, it will have to be by KO
Bots: berto getting up off the canvas looks like me after about 8 rum and cokes. reaching for things to hold on to. losing the batle against gravity.
DQ: like a baby giraffe with his legs locking backwards
Bots: like a baby honey badger after bingeing on snake venom.
Bots: ortiz’s uppercut is badass.
DQ: he throws a lot of hooks
Bots: listen to you, miss boxing analyst!
DQ: kickboxing class has taught me many things
Bots: oh shit. you’re kickin’ motherfuckers.
DQ: in dey head
11:27 PM – They go into the final round with Oritz clearly leading on points.
DQ: it’s like a fucking counseling session in berto’s corner. here we go
Bots: yeah. berto needs to punch big here.
DQ: what is this?
Bots: ortiz is stalling kinda.
DQ: ahhhh that’s what i thought
11:31 – The fight is over. Ortiz wins by decision.
Bots: wow. very entertaining. ortiz is kind of evil looking, no?
DQ: that gold belt is going to conflict with their tin foils suits
Bots: the announcer just said Maidana won a great fight, and then had to be corrected. Ahh, boxing.
DQ: ahhh head injuries
Bots: ahh premature alzheimer’s symptoms!
DQ: the ring chick is over acting a bit
Bots: whoa. leave the ring girl alone!
DQ: oh they thought of everything! gold hats to match the belt!
Bots: that sombrero is redonkulous.
DQ: what? no
Bots: sombreros are just innately silly.
DQ: they are great for dancing around
Bots: and for hiding things in while being worn…
DQ: and for carrying babies. ortiz sounds pretty good
Bots: yeah, he doesn’t sound nearly as evil as he looks. i kind of like ortiz actually.
DQ: the commentator sounds brain-injured
Bots: larry merchant. yeah, he’s really really old. i think he had a stroke but HBO wont fire him since he’s been around so long.
DQ: he’s like the diane rehm of boxing
Bots: here in atlanta the local npr affiliate has this old lady who sounds like an 80s stereotype of a rich white lady. and they will not EVER take her off the air because the old white people who donate money all love her. larry merchant is just painful to watch.
DQ: now i want to read Ortiz’s story
My heart was pounding as I walked toward the mostly-unmarked side door of the building. I always get overly nervous when going to something alone for the first (or fifth, or sixth) time. I wound through parents waiting for their kids and entered the pool area, and luckily saw two people who looked like they were there for the same thing I was. “Hi, this is my first time and I don’t know anything”- I like to lay the facts on the table from the get-go. The woman, who definitely knows stuff, chuckled and pointed me to the women’s locker room, warning me of the hoard of under-10s in there. I decided to brave it, temporarily deafened by their heedless shrieking and screaming (I don’t think it was at me), and I headed straight for the toilet stall. I started to take my things out of my backpack, and quickly found there was not nearly enough room in there. I put my bathing suit and rain jacket on top of the toilet paper dispenser, then turned to take off my shoes. I heard a splash. My rain jacket had fallen on the ground, but my bathing suit fell in the toilet. Which some girl had not flushed. Well this is starting out smoothly, I thought. I was at once cursing and praising myself, because I had had the forethought to bring an extra bathing suit. This I put on immediately and kept everything away from that dastardly toilet. Most of the girls had left so I got out, put my things in a cubby, and headed out to the pool.
There were more people there now, including a guy who was wearing regular clothes, so I took him to be the coach. I introduced myself, quickly telling him I had bunion surgery so had not really moved in four months (it was really more, but I could only blame four of those months on the surgeries). I told him I had never swum competitively but had swum a lot in general and had always been fairly active. He sent me over to lane 1 and told me to start out with some freestyle. “All right,” I thought, “at least I’m good at freestyle.” The coach quickly put to rest my delusions of greatness, or at least of minor ability. I probably shouldn’t have told him I taught swim lessons for the last four years, I think it worried him after he saw me swim.
Anyway, a couple laps in I’m feeling good, lost count of how many laps I’ve done and how many I’m supposed to do, and he stops me. I’m excited for the guidance and opportunity to improve my technique. “Your kick is good,” he says, “but you need to push your arms through the water instead of letting them just drag along. Keep your hands closer to your body and rotate more, really reaching your hands out before they enter the water. And look ahead of you a bit as you swim, not straight down.” So I say okay, lower my goggles, and get ready to go. I’m mostly focusing on pushing the water with my hands, and I really start to feel it in my upper arms. I do probably another hundred yards like that and stop to rest. Everybody else has stopped swimming so I guess they all finished whatever we were supposed to be doing. The coach tells everyone to do a 3-2-1, whatever that means, and luckily he comes over to me. “You were pushing more, but you still need to lift your head up.” “Oh, right,” I say, “I forgot about that.” “Do another 300 of freestyle.”
Lap one, reach out, rotate, lap one, push back. Oops, gotta breathe. Lap one. Reach out, rotate, push back. This is going okay. Lap one. Oh right, look forward. Wait, now I’m not pushing back. Lap one. Push the water back. Oh, there’s the wall. Flip-turn, oh-I-really-should’ve-taken-a-breath-before-that, lap two. Look forward, reach arms forward, lap two, push the water back. I’m feeling good, my triceps are burning, and eventually I complete the 300 yards. The coach comes over. He looks disappointed. “You’ve got to push the water harder. I really want to see almost a small explosion as your arms come back. You’re taking almost 27 strokes per lap, when you should be doing 18 or 20.” “Okay,” I say, and I get ready to start swimming. Over the next few laps, my mind is a jumble of counting strokes, laps, and remembering to breathe, to reach out, look forward, push the water, and rotate. I eventually find that counting the strokes makes me automatically do many of the things he told me to do, which serves to tire out my poor tiny arms quickly. I take breaks, pretending I’m adjusting my goggles. The lowest I get is 22. I might have done 21 once. He has us all do an IM (butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, and freestyle)- I got through maybe half a lap of a barely-recognizable butterfly. I was glad there wasn’t a lifeguard at the pool so they wouldn’t have thought I was drowning. The coach came over with ten minutes to go, telling me that I can take it easy now; I did more than he expected me to do. I’m happy to hear something good and make a note to set peoples’ expectations low at the next activity I do for the first time, so I can easily exceed them. He had us cool down with whatever stroke we liked- I picked freestyle, still trying to reach the elusive 18-stroke lap. It didn’t happen, even with my probable mis-counting.
It was time to get out of the pool, so I looked around for the stairs, or a ladder. I saw nothing. Feeling my jello arms and panicking, I attempted to get myself out of the pool. I could barely lift myself out. I pulled myself up enough to get my butt out, then kind of rolled over onto my knees. I was the epitome of grace. In the locker room I’d tell anybody I could about my bunion surgery. “It’s so nice to move again, even though I’m so out of shape because of the surgeries.” Yes, definitely because of the surgeries…
As I rinsed myself off in the shower and struggled to get my jeans back on, I was glad I went. Sure, I wasn’t entirely confident in my ability to turn my steering wheel just then, but eventually I’ll get stronger. Though all the swimming lingo and equipment is still very foreign and unintelligible to me, everybody there is really welcoming and encouraging. I’ve gone two more times to the Master’s swimming practices, and I’ve gotten more comfortable with the whole thing. Now I only have to resist the urge to buy obscenely colorful bathing suits!
