Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Throwing Stones
I found myself facedown on the ice sheet at the Madison (Wis.) Curling Club on Sunday afternoon — with my kids watching. And my wife. But oddly enough, I wasn’t too embarrassed.
In fact, I now have new respect for the activity that some of my friends refused to call a “sport” during the Winter Olympics. The core muscles and balancing technique required to accurately (and powerfully) throw a polished 42-pound granite stone across textured ice with a piece of Teflon-like material called a slider underneath one shoe certainly is no simple task. Actually, it’s extremely difficult.
I particularly had trouble with the balancing part, trying to keep my right foot on the slider and throw the stone with my left hand as both of my legs slowly spread out from underneath me like a pair of giant scissors. Given that this was a demo for kids, though, Lester the instructor only allowed me two throws; otherwise, I’m sure I would have gotten the hang of it after just a few more.
A friend told my wife and me about the Madison Curling Club’s free open house and demonstration session, so we took our 13-year-old daughter Kayla and 10-year-old son Tyler to check it out. The club — which operates in a straightforward $1.3 million facility with six curling sheets and a spacious, inviting gathering/spectator area — benefits from introducing newcomers to the sport by collecting names and e-mail addresses of attendees. I’m sure I’ll get an e-mail late this summer, encouraging me to sign the kids up for Sunday leagues that begin around Halloween every year. For $50, participants between the ages of 8 and 18 receive nine weeks of instruction and game experience. Of course, they must get used to the terminology (“biter,” “hog line” and “vice-skip”) and etiquette (high-fiving isn’t allowed, at least at the Madison Curling Club), but they also learn a sport they can play well into old age.
Both of my children are active in competitive swimming, another lifetime sport. And while Kayla didn’t particularly enjoy her curling experience enough to join a league, Tyler thinks curling on frozen water might be a nice complement to swimming in warmer water. If that’s the case, I’ll be there to encourage him in his new endeavor; just don’t expect me to get back on the ice.
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Augie's Army
It was a night of dress blues and olive drab, and ultimately a lot of green. The fifth annual B*A*S*H for MDA's Augie's Quest raised more than $822,000 toward amytorphic lateral sclerosis research Friday during the 29th International Health Racquet and Sportsclub Association Convention & Trade Show in San Diego.
"It's a very healthy number," says Kelly Campbell, associate director of business development for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. "We're actually up about $200,000 from last year."
Attendance was up, too, to 775 party-goers — many donning the "Army chic" attire encouraged by event chairman and IHRSA icon John McCarthy and this year's B*A*S*H committee. Fifty active military service members from local bases greeted guests, who surveyed auction items arranged on camouflage-draped tables situated amid a vintage Army ambulance, a Willys Jeep and an artillary cannon. Emcee Jann Carl looked more like an Andrews sister than a former "Entertainment Tonight" correspondent as she enthusiasticlly announced to the dinner audience that she was "reporting for duty."
Of course, the entire evening was a collective, heart-felt salute to its chief inspirational officer, Augie Nieto, the fitness entrepreneur whose personal battle with ALS led to the launch in 2006 of Augie's Quest Cure ALS. With the help of additional fundraising efforts, Augie's Quest has raised nearly $22.5 million since the inaugural Bash.
"Augie was again overwhelmed by all that the fitness industry has done," Campbell says. "He was happy to see all the familiar faces and certainly appreciated all the support."
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Sunday, March 14, 2010
Waive Hello!
I'm a member of an over-40 men's indoor soccer team, Code Blue. So, last Tuesday night, I'm marking a guy as he swings around my right, and as I turn to give chase upfield, I hear a loud pop! in my knee and hit the turf, screaming. There's no mistaking the sound of a torn ACL, or of the person suffering it (I was actually taken aback by my own involuntary screams).
Five days of lying in bed, now hard at work doing the exercises to prep myself for surgery, I've had some time to think about certain aspects of the experience. I signed a waiver at the beginning of the season, of course, agreeing that I would not hold Breakaway Sports or its employees liable for their own negligence. It would not occur to me that my injury was caused by anyone's negligence, other than my own. The injury occurred halfway through the second half, at 10:15 at night; I am almost positive that, tired, I failed to lift my foot sufficiently as I turned my upper body, causing the rupture. Interestingly, though, the referee said to me after I was carried from the field and set on the bench with two small Baggies of ice cubes, "That happens, man, it is so easy to get your foot caught in this turf."
Out of such innocuous comments are ambulance chasers born or hired. Is there something wrong with the turf at Breakaway? Have other players been injured under similar circumstances, or on the same part of the field? Is there a seam there, some defect that might have been responsible for wrecking my summer, taking away my favorite activities of soccer and running, and leaving me facing seven months of rehab?
The fact that these questions suddenly occur to me, a non-litigious writer of articles about liability issues, means that the facility's owners ought probably sit down with their employees and go over protocol in the event of an injury to a customer. By all means, help him off the field, get him some ice, file an injury report, but don't suggest to someone in pain that the field might be responsible for his pain.
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Thursday, March 04, 2010
Outta Sight
Looking back on the 21st Winter Games in Vancouver, one of the more compelling stories to emerge late last week was that of bobsled driver Steve Holcomb, who steered the United States to its first gold medal in the sport in 62 years.
On the brink of blindness and bobsled retirement, Holcomb underwent a procedure not yet approved by the FDA to compensate for a degenerative eye disorder that left him with distorted corneas and debilitating nearsightedness. New contact prescriptions secured every three months could no longer keep up, so in March 2008 doctors implanted a lens behind each iris. Literally overnight, Holcomb's vision improved from 20/500 to 20/20.
Based on Holcomb's case study, a blog earlier this week asked, "When an athlete gets Lasik, is he cheating?" I was the 600th respondent to click, "No — it's the same as wearing glasses," and I was solidly in the majority. That response garnered roughly 85 percent of the vote, to just over 7 percent each for "Yes — it's the same as taking a performance-enhancing drug" and "No — most banned PEDs shouldn't be considered cheating."
I found the question rather silly, actually, since Lasik wasn't even the eye procedure that benefited Holcomb. And where does one draw the line on other operations? Pitcher Tommy John enjoyed more Major League Baseball success after the elbow-salvaging procedure that bears his name than he had before it, notching 164 of his 288 career victories post-surgery. The jury is still out on whether that constitutes evidence of performance enhancement, yet players still line up to have their weak or damaged ulnar colleteral ligaments swapped with stronger ones.
In truth, Holcomb found that while it kept him in the sport, his clearer vision proved detrimental to his performance. He had become so accustomed to driving his four-man sled, "The Night Train," based on muscle memory and instinct that he actually scratched his helmet's faceshield such that the course and its visual evidence of previous crashes would be obscured. Out of sight, out of mind.
Over the years, athletes have tried to strengthen their vision naturally using a variety of exercises and gadgets. Left untreated, Holcomb wouldn't have been able to see the gadgets. "I was so nearsighted," he told Sports Illustrated a year ago, "I had to get right up to the eye chart just to make out the big E at the top."
Hopefully, the radical procedure has lasting results, allowing this 29-year-old computer technician and National Guard specialist to live his life off the track to the fullest. And if CR-3, as the procedure is known, becomes as common as Tommy John surgery, I — and apparantely most other people — don't see a problem with that.
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Friday, February 26, 2010
Sportsmanship Gold
"It sucks to win silver." That's what American forward Natalie Darwitz told Joe Micheletti on MSNBC, minutes after Team USA lost the women's ice hockey gold medal to Canada last night, 2-0. As I heard those words, I was instantly compelled to flip back to NBC's Olympic coverage, just to catch a glimpse of what was happening there. Anything would be better than sour grapes.
The two goals scored in the game were as many as either team had given up all tournament. These longtime rivals were clearly the class of the field. I just wish Team USA had stayed classy to the end.
After Finland received its bronze medals, Team USA players, several of them fighting back tears, accepted their silvers as a chant of "USA! USA!" filled Canada Hockey Place. It may have started with American fans. Who knows? What was readily apparent, though, was that this vastly partisan Canadian crowd had enthusiastically joined in.
The medal-winning teams were lined up at ice level during the entire ceremony, but on the sportsmanship podium, Canada stood taller still.
UPDATE: Uh O Canada.
Turns out, once the cameras went dark and the stands at Canada Hockey Place cleared, the gold medalists returned to the ice in full regalia to smoke cigars and drink beer and champagne. According to an Associated Press report, one player even tried to drive the ice resurfacing machine.
"In terms of the actual celebration, it's not exactly something uncommon in Canada," Steve Keough, a spokesperson for the Canadian Olympic Committe told the AP.
Not uncommon, but perhaps illegal. Marie-Philip Poulin, the 18-year-old phenom who scored both of Team Canada's goals against the United States, was witnessed holding a beer. The legal drinking age in British Columbia is 19.
"I don't think it's a good promotion of sport values," Gilbert Felli, the International Olympic Committee's executive director of the Olympic Games, said of the celebration. "If they celebrate in the changing room, that's one thing, but not in public. We will investigate what happened."
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Monday, February 22, 2010
Spectacular, If Not Miraculous
The Americans were handily out shot. They relied on spectacular
goaltending. They got some bounces. And, facing intense pressure late,
they held on to pull off the upset.
I'm not recounting the Miracle on Ice, the U.S. Olympic hockey team's
improbable 4-3 victory over the vaunted Soviets in Lake Placid 30 years
ago today. I'm talking about Team USA's win over Canada last night in
Vancouver. The score of the two games would have been identical, too,
if not for a late empty-net goal by the current Americans.
This was not David versus Goliath, or freedom versus communism. It was
not amateurs who had bonded over a six-month exhibition schedule such
that they could sneak up and surprise a government-run hockey
juggernaut. Such Olympic story lines are history. Sadly.
We were once taught to hate the Russians and everything they stood for,
but who can build up any sustained venom for Canada? And, for that
matter, can opposing players who will rejoin the same NHL team, perhaps
even the same line, in less than two weeks compete against each other
like there's no tomorrow?
In a word, yes. Last night's game was hockey played at the highest
level — an NHL all-star game with meaning, end-to-end action that you
hated to see end.
These are the fourth Winter Games in which NHL hockey players have been
welcomed, a paradigm shift that has always bothered me. For individual
sports such as alpine skiing and figure skating, the Olympics still
represent the pinnacle of an athlete's career. Shaun White has his own
video game, but nowhere are his otherworldly snowboarding skills better
displayed than at the Games. "The Olympics are pretty heavy," a
breathless White told NBC's cameras after his first half-pipe run last
Wednesday. (Then, with the gold medal already secured, White used his
second run to push the envelope further, uncorking an unprecedented
Double McTwist 1260.)
I don't get that heavy feeling from men's ice hockey anymore. The NHL
schedule breaks only long enough for a few Olympic practices and a
fortnight of international competition before the Stanley Cup pursuit
resumes.
The victory by the United States last night was its first over Canada
in Olympic play since 1960 (Canada beat the U.S. in 2002's gold medal
game), and it gave American college hockey some North American
breeding-ground bragging rights over Canadian junior hockey. Only five
players on the current Team USA roster were born in 1980, but no small
part of their statement last night was written 30 years ago.
It truly was something to behold. But it was no miracle.
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Stop, Or My First Baseman Will Shoot
Major League Baseball says its rules banning weapons from clubhouses was in place last year, but the implementation this month of the Weapon-Free Workplace Policy will ensure that all clubhouses carry signs — similar to the anti-gambling signs that worked so well in the Pete Rose case — that prohibit anyone working for the league to possess deadly weapons. The league defines "deadly weapon," in a spectacular example of legalese, as "any instrument or device designed primarily for use in inflicting death or injury to a human or animal or is capable of inflicting death or injury if used in the manner it was designed." An MLB spokesman confirmed the policy bans firearms, explosives, daggers, metal knuckles (do people still use those?), switchblades (or those?) and knives with blades exceeding 5 inches, and then declined further comment.
My second-favorite word in the whole definitive mess is "primarily." This allows ballplayers to carry all sorts of implements that the FAA has already deemed dangerous, from box cutters to nail clippers — not to mention knives of up to 5 inches in length.
My favorite, though, is the inclusion of the phrase, "an animal." I'm guessing here, but I'm assuming that this is intended to ward off a potential Michael Vick-style clubhouse scandal.
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The Minnesota Metrohome
I know I'm supposed to care about the quad that Evan Lysacek didn't perform in his gold-medal-winning free skate, or that the relationship between Lysacek and gymnast Nastia Liukin is so hot and heavy that if you google Lysacek looking for news of his gold medal, you get a hundred stories about his main squeeze instead (ah, America).
Anyway, I don't. Instead, as I look out on the wintry landscape, I've been thinking about Target Field, the Minnesota Twins' stadium that'll open this April. An entire generation of Twin Cities fans has grown up watching baseball played indoors, in an impossibly loud barn with a roof that regularly interfered with balls in play and a backdrop brought to you by Hefty®. Everything I've read about the history of Minnesota baseball suggests that fans there will love baseball played in its traditional form. And they'll have an easier time of it at Target Field than they ever had at Metropolitan Stadium. The field will be natural grass over a drainage and heating system that should protect the grass plants from damage during the long winter. The canopy over the seating bowl will be the largest in the Major Leagues, radiant heaters will line the main concourse from foul pole to foul pole, and concessions stands in the windy upper deck will be enclosed and feature standing room for fans hoping to warm their toes while they eat.
On the other hand, without the home-field advantage the Metrodome afforded, the Twins will probably never win the World Series again. But what do I care? I live in Wisconsin.
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Friday, February 12, 2010
Mariah Carey = Olympic Gold?
The Winter Olympics officially get under way today in Vancouver at the BC Place — site of the first-ever indoor opening ceremonies. ESPN.com’s Bonnie D. Ford wonders how the torch-lighting will comply with fire codes and if there will be “an unprecedented ‘second cauldron’ somewhere outside BC Place for crowds to enjoy and TV crews to use as a backdrop for live shots.” Meanwhile, the folks over at NBC.com are asking if skier Lindsey Vonn — a favorite to win three gold medals for the United States — will even be able to compete after injuring her right shin when it was forced violently against her ski boot during a training run in Austria last week.
These are good questions, I admit. But what’s eating at me right now is whether U.S. figure skater Evan Lysacek, the reigning men’s world champion and silver medalist at the 2010 U.S. Figure Skating Championships, really believes what he recently said about AT&T’s new playlist for Olympians (available via iTunes and AT&T wireless devices): “As we prepare to compete in Vancouver, the ‘Team USA Soundtrack’ will help motivate us to perform at our very best.”
That’s right, a collection of 12 new songs from the likes of Mariah Carey, Three Doors Down, Train, Puddle of Mudd and Hoobastank — has-been artists who maybe could have filled a playlist for the 2002 Winter Games — “will offer inspirational songs for Team USA, sports and music fans across the country.” Just ignore the fact that another contributing band is called The All-American Rejects.
Here’s hoping that his fellow U.S. competitors don’t agree with Lysacek and instead opt to listen to whatever puts them in the competitive zone. Swimmer Michael Phelps won an unprecedented eight gold medals in the 2008 Summer Olympics listening to rappers Jay-Z, Young Jeezy and Eminem. And FitBottomedGirls.com reports that some female Winter Olympians will get fired up during these next two weeks listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Beyonce and, of course, Coldplay.
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Monday, February 08, 2010
Eight Is Enough
One member of the New Orleans Saints who you may have seen in the
waning seconds of Super Bowl XLIV, but probably didn't recognize, was
Scott Shanle. The linebacker was closing in on Indianapolis
Colts wide receiver Reggie Wayne, who dropped Peyton Manning’s final
pass of the game and sealed New Orleans' first-ever Super Bowl
victory. Steve Borer certainly recognized Shanle, though — and he
called me this morning to make sure I knew who he was, too.
Borer, assistant vice principal and activities director at Seward (Neb.) High School, spent 18 years coaching eight-man football
and has compiled books on the subject. He watched Shanle, a seven-year
NFL veteran out of the University of Nebraska, play running back and
defensive back for St. Edward (Neb.) High School’s eight-man team while
earning All-State and Player of the Year honors. Believe it or not, Borer says Shanle is
the third eight-man player out of Nebraska to wear a Super Bowl ring. The other two? Shanle's little brother, Andrew — who also played for St. Edward and was on the practice squad for New York Giants team that won Super Bowl XLII — and Randy Rasmussen, a starting right guard for the New York Jets in Super Bowl III.
"People say, 'Oh, well, it's just eight-man football.' Yeah, it is,”
Borer once told me, defending the smaller-roster game. “But it's still
blocking, running and tackling, and those kids are out there getting a
chance to participate in a great all-American game."
And maybe even win
a Super Bowl.
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Thursday, February 04, 2010
Outside the Lines
Background checks, while highly recommended, may not be enough to ensure you know who's coaching your youth sports programs. Ongoing supervision also is a must.
For proof, look no further than 31-year-old Eric J. Humphrey, a bar owner who also coached a Pop Warner football team in Buffalo, N.Y. Last season, that team (with players between the ages of 11 and 15) was good enough to come within one win of advancing to the national championships at Disney’s Wide World of Sports. But that on-the-field success is overshadowed by reported off-the-field behavior: While his players practiced, Humphrey allegedly was dealing cocaine in a nearby parking lot. In fact, he apparently was the leader of a drug ring busted earlier this week by federal officials. "He held himself out to be a pillar of the community while he was selling cocaine," Charles H. Tomaszewski, the agent in charge of the Buffalo office of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, told The Buffalo News. "I find that to be unconscionable."
Drug agents seized a pound of powdered cocaine, 4.5 ounces of crack cocaine and 21 kilo-sized cocaine wrappers from a "stash house" said to be operated by the coach. And Humphrey’s bar, Good Life Sports Bar & Grill, is alleged to have been purchased with drug dollars, The News reported.
Humphrey and four co-defendants have pleaded not guilty to drug-conspiracy charges in federal court. That’s no surprise. What is startling, though, is that not one parent or Pop Warner administrator ever noticed this guy conducting business when he should have been coaching their kids.
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Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Shock Value?
A massive brawl during halftime of the boys' basketball game played at
Monessen (Pa.) High School last Friday has once again drawn attention
to the deployment of Tasers to control unruly sports crowds.
According to local media reports, several individuals were stunned into
submission during what law enforcement officials termed a "borderline
riot." The fight involving dozens of students and adults was believed
to have started as a hallway argument between girls' basketball players
representing Monessen and visiting Washington High, which had faced off
in the first game of that day's double-header. (Spectators had been subjected to a metal detector upon their arrival.)
The growing melee
spilled into the gym, and it took local and state police 40 minutes to
clear the capacity crowd. Ultimately, the game's second half was played
in front of empty stands, and Washington emerged with a runaway 71-52
victory. But just how to score the ensuing Taser debate is less clear.
Reaction in the blogosphere both questioned and defended not only the
need for Taser deployment in extreme crowd control situations but the
very necessity of high school sports.
Monessen coach Joe Salvino, at least, knew his team's place within the
chaos. "We saw the police on the floor and they told us to stay in the
corner," Salvino told the Observer-Reporter of Washington. "They were using Tasers and they didn't want to electrocute us."
Whether aftershocks in the form of police brutality allegations persist
remains to be seen as the storyline continues to unfold.
Eighteen-year-old Chancey Roilton of Washington, who was tasered during
the brawl and later cited for disorderly conduct, was arrested today by
state police on drug charges. Meanwhile, video
of Monessen sophomore Mario Tarver being tasered was still making the
Internet rounds. "One of the first things he said was that he hates
police, and that's not how I raised him," Bylly Tarver, Mario's father,
told Pittsburgh ABC affiliate WTAE.
"But situations like that, that strain relationships between police and
the community, from one bad officer, can have a long-term effect. So, I
have to go through the process of making sure he understands that it's
not everybody. That's not a reflection of all officers."
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Tuesday, February 02, 2010
A Grounded Goal
Congratulations are in order to Chris Calcaterra, sports facilities manager for the 145-acre, 16-field Peoria (Ariz.) Sports Complex,
a city-owned entity that hosts spring training for Major League
Baseball's Seattle Mariners and San Diego Padres. He recently took over
as president of the Sports Turf Managers Association for one year with
the goal of enhancing the industry's image — especially in the eyes of
facility operators.
“Our employers need to understand the jobs that we
do,” says Calcaterra, who I interviewed a few years ago about one of
those jobs, preseason turf preparation.
“We are working on tools and resources to help our members with their
communication skills and their technical skills, so that they are more
visible and credible in their employers’ eyes.”
We wish Calcaterra well.
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Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Pro Bowl Is Stupid. Kill It Already.
All-Star Games have all outlived their relevance, but the Pro Bowl, which is kicking off any minute now, is by far the dumbest of them all, and made even dumber by its being contested today, one week before the Super Bowl.
If that's possible. It's true that, in its normal slot one week after the Super Bowl, it was a colossal afterthought — and worse, a game that nobody really wanted to play, with the specter of injury leading to many no-shows, both literal and figurative. This year, the game is being played without representatives of the league's two best teams, including the two best quarterbacks. Why bother?
A little history: America's Pastime held its first All-Star Game in 1933. The sport needed the money and it needed to get fans, most of whom didn't have two nickels to rub together, to spend the one nickel they had on a ballgame. The idea made some sense: Gather all the sport's biggest stars on one field, and watch two veritable Dream Teams go at it. Prior to that, the only way fans ever got to see representatives of the two leagues on one field was during the World Series. But also, baseball's mano-a-mano of pitcher vs. hitter is singular among the team sports, and really makes for made-for-TV All-Star Game moments (if only they'd had TV!).
In short, back in 1933, you'd need a hell of a lot of luck to see Carl Hubbell face Babe Ruth. Major League Baseball foresaw the possibilities, and in its second-ever All-Star Game, in 1934, the league got a tremendous stroke of luck: Hubbell, in a second-inning jam, fanned Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and Jimmie Foxx to retire the Americans, for good measure striking out Al Simmons and Joe Cronin to lead off the third. That, right there, was the essence of fans' endless arguments about which was more important, pitching or hitting.
Other sports just don't accommodate the would-be dream matchup. The NBA's one-on-one is always between two scorers (Kobe vs. LeBron...lol), which is why that sport's All-Star Games always end up 139-138. Football, both American and World, are the ultimate team sports — statistics, especially defensive statistics, are completely team-oriented. You want to see the best offense against the best defense? You saw it when the New England Patriots fell to the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLII, not when Tom Brady went one-on-one with Justin Tuck.
Added to which, who cares whether the NFC or the AFC wins? In a week we're going to crown the real champion, which for most fans will settle the debate over which conference is stronger. And, did you hear? Peyton Manning and Drew Brees will start.
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Friday, January 29, 2010
They Couldn't Sell Their Sol
When Women's Professional Soccer's second season kicks off April 10, it will have two new teams in Philadelphia and Atlanta and an expanded 24-game season schedule. What it won't have is its most popular team, the Los Angeles Sol, which yesterday the league decided to fold and disperse its roster (which includes Marta, the world's most accomplished player) among the league's other teams.
A lot of stupid things are bound to be said and written over the next few months about this turn of events, but at least we know that Tonya Antonucci, the league's commissioner, has her head screwed on right. Antonucci noted yesterday that the Sol was one of the league's strongest clubs financially, and that the team had proved that the L.A. market was viable for women's soccer — and said, furthermore, that WPS hoped to have a team there again in 2011.
So, what the hell happened? How can a team that compiles the league's best record, averages 6,300 fans a game at home compared with the other WPS teams' 4,600, boosts league-wide road attendance by 25 percent and finishes one goal short of being crowned the WPS' inaugural champion, fail?
Simple. Anschutz Entertainment Group, the team's owner, decided it wanted to sell the Sol after the season, in spite of the fact that the company's owner, Philip Anschutz, is a billionaire. Unable to find an immediate buyer, Anschutz transferred the rights back to WPS, and for some reason WPS decided to fold the team rather than operate it as Major League Baseball did with the Montreal Expos/Washington Nationals.
And why did the league decide that no Sol was better for the league than a league-operated Sol? Probably because the team, no matter what Antonucci says, was losing money — in which case you'd have to ask yourself just how shaky the WPS's finances are. Frankly, I'm not that keen on calling them for a comment, after dutifully publishing the optimistic statements of the WUSA in 2000 and the WPS in 2009. I know this: Folding your start-up league's version of FC Barcelona doesn't bode well for women's soccer in this country.
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Thursday, January 28, 2010
Cheaters Proof
Nearly a third of the top 100 runners to finish a marathon in Xiamen, China, earlier this month were disqualified for cheating, with several of the cheats turning out to be students from a middle school in Shandong province.
One method used to fix the China results dates back to the early 1900s — circumventing a substantial length of the racecourse by car. Another involved much more modern technology. Some competitors gave their radio-frequency timing chips to faster runners, who either served as imposters or carried multiple chips, including their own, across the finish line.
Why were so many looking for an illegal leg up? Runners believed to finish the race in less than two hours and 34 minutes stood to gain extra points toward China's highly competitive university entrance exams, according to a report last week in England's The Guardian.
When asked whether such chip switching occurs here in the states, Sean Gavigan, owner of Milwaukee-based PrimeTime Race & Event Management LLC, says, "We've never run into any blatant cheating where we've actually caught anybody. It's something that we perceive as possible, but we don't want to talk about it too much, just because we don't want to give people any ideas."
Runners would be unwise to even think about it. PrimeTime integrates its chip-based timing with photographic evidence of who is actually finishing the race at the time a particular chip crosses the line. This is precisely how officials in Xiamen uncovered the rampant fraud at their race. In fact, they have vowed to enhance future video surveillance of the event, which draws 50,000 participants.
"For the average community road race, it isn't such a necessity, because generally there isn't much motivation to cheat," Gavigan says. "When there are bigger stakes on the line in a larger race, our policy is to focus particularly on the top 100 finishers to make sure everything is very clean at the finish line, that the correct people cross at the time their chips are read. Cheating can be easily prevented with a comprehensive timing plan."
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Sunday, January 17, 2010
Still Believing
For nearly 30 years now, the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team has been
an off-and-on obsession of mine. Every Feb. 22, I'm taken
back to that Friday night in the dead of winter when my mom and I
watched a tape-delayed and condensed hockey game from Lake Placid,
N.Y., on ABC. We didn't know the game was tape-delayed or condensed,
and just as Al Michaels stated during the pregame, we were among those
in the television audience who didn't know a blue line from a
clothesline. But we knew we were witnessing something unlike anything
we had ever seen. When Team USA defeated the Soviet Union, 4-3, in the
medal round's semifinals, this impressionable 13-year-old fell in love
with a sport and a historic sports spectacle.
I got the jump on that nostalgia this year, having read a Boston Globe Sunday Magazine article
profiling Mike Eruzione, the 1980 team captain who scored the
game-winner against the Soviets. Written by Billy Baker (though not the
Billy Baker who scored in the waning seconds of the Americans'
tournament opener to tie Sweden — a goal many consider as
important to the team's golden fate as Eruzione's), it is one of the
best pieces on that moment (and, in this case, its aftermath for one
man) that I have read, and I think I've read them all. It rivals E.M.
Swift's Sports Illustrated Sportsmen of the Year article from December 1980, which still warrants an annual reread.
In his piece, Baker refers to the HBO Sports documentary "Do You
Believe in Miracles?" which premiered in February 2001. If you haven't
seen it, find it.
I borrowed a copy from a former coworker who had played women's hockey
at Northeastern and nearly made the Olympic team but who wasn't old
enough in 1980 to appreciate what was taking place. I watched her DVD
three times before I returned it, and now own a copy complete with the
Soviet game as it was broadcast. A video introduction of Eruzione every
time he speaks borrows a few of HBO's sound bites, and we again saw the
goal scored and number 21 pumping his arms and legs as if running up
along the boards, before he spoke at the Facility of Merit
reception during the 2004 Athletic Business Conference.
It was there that I got the chance to chat him up. I told him I started
playing ice hockey because of that team. "How many times have you heard
that?" I asked the captain. "Only about a million," Eruzione said. I
offered to bring him a drink. Vodka, club soda and Diet Coke. Still
downing the Russians.
Earlier that year, Disney released "Miracle." I own that DVD, too, though I don't watch it. While SI's Swift praised the movie
and Kurt Russell's "spot-on" depiction of coach Herb Brooks, I don't
think it captures the dirty-slush dinginess of Lake Placid or the
country's collective mood. The Olympic Center is too well lit. The ice
too white. Jack O'Callahan's hair is all wrong. (I did mention the word
"obsession," didn't I?) I told Eruzione that, of the two, I thought the
HBO documentary was superior. He agreed.
To this day, I'm glad for my brief face time with this hero from my
youth. Having heard during a radio interview 10 years ago that
Eruzione travels the country reliving his moment — the country's moment
— in front of corporate audiences, I lobbied to bring him to our show.
I thought the release of "Miracle" might be our last chance, the last
time Eruzione and his underdog story would be relevant. After reading
Baker's piece, I realize nothing could be further from the truth.
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Warning to Sports Fans: You Might Spot Them in *Ethnic* Restaurants
Okay — I will not be laughing if terrorists bomb one of Vancouver's Olympic venues. But the U.S. government's warning to American sports fans traveling to the 2010 Winter Games to (as a report on CTV's Vancouver 2010 site put it) "watch out for al-Queda and other extremists, especially on transit and in restaurants, churches and other areas outside official venues" strikes me as a bit loopy. How does one pick out an extremist from among a group of thousands of sports fans (someone wearing a burkha)? Something tells me Eric Rudolph wasn't wearing a ghutra when he bombed Centennial Park during the 1996 Olympics.
Nothing wrong with staying vigilant; Richard Jewell, the man who found the bag containing the bomb in Atlanta, probably saved thousands of lives with his quick thinking (and look what it got him). But in the absence of a specific, credible threat (the U.S. State Department has denied any), the warning only serves to remind me of Bob Dylan's classic, "Talkin' John Birch Society Blues," here rendered as "Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues." Any extremists in your toilet bowl?
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Thursday, January 07, 2010
A Rose By Another Name
The college football season reaches its climax tonight when Alabama and Texas meet in the Citi BCS National Championship Game — Pasadena Tournament of Roses. The actual Rose Bowl Game Presented by Citi was decided between Ohio State and Oregon six days earlier. Whether or not you consider all of this confusing, it's that four-letter word attached to both the wordier-titled title game and the grander reference to "The Granddaddy of Them All" that most of us should find most annoying, if not outright vulgar.
According to Houston Chronicle business columnist Loren Steffy, title sponsor Citigroup has accepted roughtly $50 billion in U.S. taxpayer money to remain in business, paid less than half of it back, yet continues to underwrite the staging of sporting events. Citigroup also ranks among the nation's top underwriters of private student loans, which Steffy points out are offered to students at adjustable rates that start lower than federally backed student loans, but then balloon typically before they can be paid off. "In other words, a lot of students are getting suckered into paying more than they should for college," Steffy wrote yesterday. "By sponsoring the Bailout Bowl, Citi is using our money to exploit college students."
Citigroup — which stirred nationwide controversy with its purchase of naming rights to the year-old home of the New York Mets (slightly less controversy arose when the company bought my mortgage) — has to advertise, Steffy wrote, or we taxpayers may never see our money again. "But sponsoring college bowl games isn't typical advertising," he added. "It's another example of finance companies worming their way into the lucrative college market, associating their names with institutions of higher learning."
Of course, creation of an NCAA Football Playoff could solve this problem. NCAA, remember, is not a four-letter word.
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Monday, January 04, 2010
The Cheesiest Sponsorship of All Time
When I first saw the news a couple weeks back that Waste Management Inc. had become the sole title sponsor of what will henceforth be known as the Waste Management Phoenix Open, I was convinced that the 20-year-old trend of stadium and event naming rights had finally, inexorably, sunk to the bottom of the cesspool. It's obvious what Waste Management takes away from the deal — the company doubtless sees the upscale PGA Tour as the route by which it can flush most people's association (fair or not) of its services with those cesspit-sucking trucks in favor of its Think Green® sustainability solutions. But what on earth, besides money, does the Phoenix Open get? Six years' worth of jokes about its crappy tournament?
In any case, I was wrong — to paraphrase Frank Zappa, the trend isn't dead, it just smells funny. News broke on New Year's Eve that Kraft Foods will pay the city of Irving, Texas, $75,000 and make an additional $75,000 contribution to local charities in return for being named the title sponsor for the implosion of Texas Stadium. According to news reports, the company plans to launch a campaign "linking the destruction of the former home of the Dallas Cowboys to its Cheddar Explosion line of macaroni and cheese products."
To send the event straight over the top, the company plans to have a nationwide contest to select a child to push the button that starts the implosion, which is scheduled for April 11.
Prior to the city council's unanimous thumbs-up of the plan, a
straight-faced Maura Gast, executive director of the Irving Convention
and Visitors Bureau, told councilors that Kraft's promotion of the
event will "tell the story Irving wants to tell, which is really about
the future of Irving and everything we are banking on happening in the
redevelopment of this site."
How much of Marketing 101 did I sleep through back in sophomore year? Watching this video, and in particular listening to the whoops of that one crazed guy, I am not flooded with thoughts of either an explosion of cheese or the future of Irving. I'm left, frankly, with a bad taste in my mouth.
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