We’re not on speaking terms right now.
I’ve been MIA lately and for that I apologize. Since my last post, I’ve organized a husband’s birthday, ran my first half-marathon, camped in the rain overnight in the name of Girl Guides, booked Little Bee’s bowling birthday party, discovered hot yoga and watched my grandfather get married. And watched baseball. And drank a lot.
And here we are in mid-October and I am really, really freaking tired. And given how my Yankees have performed of late, really, really cranky. So here’s a few things I’ve been meaning to get off my chest: Continue reading
I am having the world’s craziest work week (Wednesday’s job duties ran the gamut from making a caprese salad to coordinating logistics with a Fox News film crew) and so this will have to be a links post. However, as I began writing this post I had no good picture to jazz things up a little. And then, through the power of serendipity, I stumbled onto a little slideshow called “Rafael Nadal Cheers At A Soccer Match.” And thus my day and, I hope, yours, is saved. Unless you are a Machester City fan, I suppose.
If I knew how to Googlebomb, I’d make sure this image appeared anytime someone Googled “fierce.”
How excited am I about this year’s US Open champions? Well, I’m posting two days early, for one thing. But I also had to engage in a serious internal debate about whether to post Serena’s picture or Andy’s first. Ultimately, I decided on Serena because …well, look at that picture. That woman had a life-threatening pulmonary embolism last year, and this year she won two Grand Slams and two Olympic gold medals. (Her victory celebration reportedly included a karaoke rendition of “I Will Survive.”)
Last Friday night, I sat on a plane to the West Coast and watched what turned out to be Andy Roddick’s penultimate career victory. Had the weather cleared a bit faster Wednesday, I could have seen the end of his final match on the return flight, but the remains of Isaac lingered in New York just long enough to make sure the match restarted and ended in the time it took us to get home from the airport. So my last true memory of Andy Roddick as a tennis player (because he is surely as destined for a commentating career as McEnroe) will be of him firing on all cylinders, reducing (with the partisan crowd’s help) his 19 year old opponent to near paralysis with his shot selection and wicked serve. It’s a nice companion to my other key memory of Roddick, the legendary Wimbledon final he lost to Federer.
It’s no secret that women’s beach volleyball players wear some incredibly skimpy outfits when they compete.
What I guess I didn’t realize is how many pigs are out there only watching them for the T&A. I’ve been pretty appalled by the number of people in my Twitter timeline making sexist remarks about how they shouldn’t even be playing if they can’t do it almost naked. These are friends and other sports writers who I normally agree with and respect.
Here’s the thing – I don’t begrudge these ladies their bikinis. Beach volleyball is a fringe sport that I’m certain struggles to get money and attention. Misty May Treanor and Kerri Walsh Jennings are household names and that just wouldn’t be the case if they didn’t do what they do in bikinis. It helps that they’re incredibly talented at it and have won many, many medals and competitions. But people started noticing them because they weren’t wearing many clothes.
And so I say, more power to you, fringe athletes. You do what you need to do to get noticed and get sponsorships and get viewers. You sell your non-profitting selves any which way you can.
Which I suppose isn’t a very feminist point of view. I should be railing against the misogyny that leads to women athletes feeling like they have to use sex appeal to sell themselves and their sport. And while that’s true, it’s a fight we’ve been having for decades and it’s not changing any time soon, so in the meantime, if i looked like these ladies do, I’d be shaking what my mama gave me if it meant TV time and sponsorship money.
So does that make me a hypocrite for getting mad at all the folks who are treating these ladies like pieces of meat instead of world-class athletes?
Follow the jump for Twitter samples and butts. Lots of butts
I swear, we will post about something non-Olympic soon (although my excuse is that I am trying not to jinx baseball with my team of choice just starting to get their act together again), but today we need your help, lovely readers. With Pat Burrell officially retired and London 2012 fast approaching, we’d like to put together a new, Olympic themed cover photo for our Facebook page. Obviously, we will be including the man (who is currently being interviewed on my TV right now! It is distracting!) we all know and love, Mr. Lochte:
Lochte and Phelps in Shanghai in 2011. They look so happy and non-competitive here. (Photo: Mark Ralston/AFP/Getty Images)
As if the London Games weren’t already worth watching, we can now happily set our PVRs for fantastic swimming showdowns between bjillion-time medallist Michael Phelps and our new official mascot since Pat Burrell’s retirement, Ryan Lochte. Hot-chte edged Phelps in the 400-meter individual medley Monday night at the U.S. Olympic Trials in Omaha, Nebraska (what up, Miss Minda!), finishing with a time of 4:07.06. Phelps strolled in at 4:07.89. Tell me this battle isn’t going to be fun to watch! Is there a Canadian in this yet? I can honestly say I don’t care. But only this time.
ESPN’s video gallery which accompanies this story includes the feature Ryan vs. Ryan. I’m not sure what was more impressive: his workout regime or his slow-mo dive into the pool.
31 days until the 2012 Summer Games, you guys!