I managed to hog most of the bandwidth in the office yesterday watching the BBC’s online stream of the Olympic opening ceremony at the Bird’s Nest and was suitably impressed. I’ve subscribed to the events schedule and again was blown away by the sheer number of events that are taking place.
I really enjoy the Olympics and am constantly amazed by the dedication of professional athletes. Until the Nerdlympics become popular I think that I will just have to enjoy watching from the comfort of the sofa.
I’m pretty sure that Team GB will achieve the modest medal target it set for itself but I don’t think that we’ll ever see the dizzy heights of 1908 as shown on this great interactive medal table from the New York Times that charts country performance since the inception of the modern Games back in 1896.
It may have escaped your notice but today the Olympic Games kicked off (quite literally, with the women’s football) — a whole two days before the opening ceremony on Friday. Even at this late stage China has decided to go back on their pledge on free expression. Not content with quashing protests of those already in the country, China have revoked the visa of a gold-medal-winning Olympian. Joey Cheek is a speed skater who also co-founded Team Darfur.
I’m not for mixing sport and politics at all but given China’s human rights record this was pretty much inevitable.
I returned to the MCG yesterday for a stadium tour and visit to the National Sports Museum. The MCG has 100,000 members, 200 of which volunteer to give the tours. Our guide for the day was a elderly chap named Eric who put his name on the waiting list for membership in 1959. He finally became a member in 1981. Nowadays you can still expect to wait around 21 years and there is a select group of people that have been members for over 50 years. It is not a young demographic.
While on the pitch we were treated to an impromptu bird of prey show as a hawk was exercised to ward off other birds from the stadium. Not a bad idea but it could do with being done on a match day too as the amount of aggressive gulls scavenging was bordering on unsettling. Still, not as bad as Circular Quay in Sydney where I witnessed two separate seagull attacks on people having lunch, swooping down and knocking the food out of their hands.
The museum was obviously extremely biased towards all things Australian. There are special sections for the Olympics, AFL, cricket and an interactive zone where you can test yourself at various sporting activities. In theory at least: it’s the school holidays here and I couldn’t get to try anything.
Considering the plethora of stadia and facilities around the MCG (the Vodafone arena and Rod Laver Arena for instance) and the sterotypical fit, bronzed, Aussie surfer, it came as a bit of a shock to most when Australia took over the mantle of fattest nation on Earth last week.
Yesterday afternoon I took in my first live Australian Rules game and watched Brisbane Lions play Melbourne at the MCG. Melbourne unexpectedly edged the match and won by a single point - 14.9.93 to 13.14.92. The scoring soon made sense: 6 points for a ‘goal’ (the first number) and 1 point for a ‘behind’ (either side of the goals) which are added together for the actual scoreline (the last number).
I had an introduction to AFL last week courtesy of my cousins partners seven-year-old son who had to give a talk to his class on his favourite things and used me to practice his presentation, so I wasn’t completely at a loss as to what was going on. I was confused for a while about the guys in HiViz outfits running around the pitch, seemingly at random. I knew they weren’t officials, water carriers or medical staff. I asked a friend who told me that they were ‘runners’ and ferrying messages from the coach to the players.
It wasn’t the most free-flowing of games but I enjoyed my afternoon. Like a rugby match, integrated seating and being able to have a beer during the game helped the atmosphere. Attendance was over 23,000 but the ground felt bizarrely deserted as the MCG has a capacity of 100,000 or over four times the crowd on the day.
After the match we jumped on to a tram down to St. Kilda - made famous a few years ago in the TV series The Secret Life of Us. We headed home after some people watching, a nice dinner and lots of slobbering as we passed by the multitude of cake shops.
“I’ve made some mistakes with my selection of rides before.”
- Tony McCoy
The main reason why things have been quiet of late on my blog of late has been researching the big horse race that took place today.
Over the past several years I’ve taken several hundred pounds from the bookies on the Grand National. Before today, the only time that I’ve failed to get a substantial return this decade was the year I actually went to the race. The appealing triad of Tony McCoy, Jonjo O’Neil and JP McManus involved with a previous Irish National winner (Butler’s Cabin) called to me like the Sirens. All was looking good until eight fences from home when my main gamble fell.
Thankfully, I had a back-up bet with an each way bet on Snowy Morning.
Net result this year? A loss of 50 pence.
Somehow life will go on.
I very nearly went to the gym this evening but I’m still counting this weekend as constituting part of my birthday so I decided to stay in with a glass of wine instead. I’m glad I did as I had completely forgotten about the new eight-week season of Ski Sunday that started on BBC 2.
The days of David Vine commentating are long gone but I feel that the Winter sports magazine has been overlooked and underfunded in the past several years. Pitifully short runs or ratings killing early broadcasts have almost been the death of the show so I was glad to see a new look with elements from Top Gear and some Michael Palin travel escapade thrown in for good measure and actually shown in a prime time slot. I was also much relieved to find out that Sam Fonteyn’s anthemic theme tune Pop Looks Bach has survived the refresh.
As for the racing, what better way to kick things off than with the Kitzbühel downhill? A horrific crash to American Scott Macartney left me hoping that this year wouldn’t be remembered for all the wrong reasons. Thankfully he’ll be okay despite some bruising to the brain. For some light relief, Bode Miller’s outrageous riding of the safety netting was the most thing jaw-dropping thing I’ve seen on the Hahnenkamm since Kristian Ghedina’s spread eagle at 135 km/h off the final jump a few years ago.
“You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.”
Kenny Rogers, The Gambler
This is the song that is being played by the England Rugby team before their World Cup games for inspiration. Appropriate really seeing as though they were quoted at 150-1 to retain their title before the tournament kicked off and after a 36-0 mauling at the hands of South Africa those odds looked to be about right.
I don’t bet often, usually limiting myself to a “flutter on the Grand National” once a year and it has to be said that I don’t do too bad. The only time that I’ve not walked away with at least £150 from the bookies was the year that I actually went to the race.
Now I’d like to think that a bit of patriotism would have won over my head if I saw the odds against England becoming the first team to defend the Rugby World Cup trophy. I may have stuck a couple of pounds at most on them each way. I certainly wouldn’t stick more than that on a horse at those odds. Still, hindsight is always 20-20 and I guess that’s why it’s called gambling.
Besides, I’ve had this feeling throughout the tournament that South Africa were going to be World champions. I hope I’m wrong. If not and I have predicted the score correctly then at least I’ll get free hair cuts for a year from my South African hair dresser!
I spent the afternoon watching the Hearts vs. Falkirk match on Saturday (while nervously keeping an eye on the Australia vs. England Rugby World Cup quarter-final — third victory from three matches I think, which means we get to keep them or something).
After a couple of pints debating the offside decisions which led to the late surge from Falkirk, I made my way down to the Grassmarket to meet some friends and catch the Edinburgh urban downhill night finals which were a part of the 2007 Fat Face Night Series. Judging by the turnout I wouldn’t be surprised if this was repeated again next year.
I was amazed by just how quickly the top guys were flying down the course. It was very exciting to watch but I think only because of the great view we had. We were so close you could feel the breeze from the riders passing by you. It could have been a bit tricky to catch anything than the occasional blur if you were elsewhere. Head on over to Flickr or check out my friend’s shots for some photos.
Well, league wise, at least it is in Scotland. The Charity Shield (I still can’t get used to calling it the “Community Shield”) is over and we’re only a few days away from the kick-off in the English Premiership.
The Summer dearth of football hasn’t actually been all as bad as I had first feared it would be. This season I have more than Liverpool and a fantasy league team to consider – I’ve just bought a football team.
To be more accurate, I’ve actually only purchased a membership of the MyFootballClub Trust that is currently in talks with four clubs (one of which is rumoured to be the mighty Shaymen themselves – Halifax Town, my hometown team).
Now I have my proper footballers injury I can’t help but notice the difference in treatment received by Beckham and Rooney. I can go without the psychic attentions of Uri Geller and the tabloid-that-shall-not-be-named (suffice to say I’m a Liverpool fan) or an oxygen tent but at the very least I was expecting a cast (plaster or inflatable), crutches or some painkillers. What did I get? Tubigrip.
Also, the bus I was on was involved in a traffic accident on the way back from the fracture clinic. I anxiously await the third installment of misfortune.