Tag Archives: sports

Princess Me!

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Two weeks ago, I was here:

If you couldn’t tell from the picture, “here” was Disney World. Specifically, for the Princess Half-Marathon!

Last year, my sister ran the Boston Marathon. I am not quite that crazy, but I thought a half-marathon might be something I could manage. When Caroline mentioned that the Princess race would take place during her spring break from law school, I hesitated at first. “I don’t know if I have time to train.” “It’s in Florida- it will be hot.” But then I looked at the half marathon training schedule and realized that it was completely do-able. So I was in.

I am amazed that I actually managed to stick to the training schedule, which involved four days of running per week, including one long run over the weekends. While I do like to run, and like other forms of exercise as well, I have a tendency to be lazy. I have a whole gamut of excuses for skipping the gym—everything from “It’s raining” to “I don’t want to miss The Office.”

Furthermore, if you haven’t been paying attention to the weather in Boston, we’ve gotten snow up to Shaq’s earlobes this winter. This meant running on the sidewalks involved getting my feet soaked in frozen puddles, trying not to slip on ice, climbing over snowbanks to avoid stepping on puddles or ice, trying to squeeze around people when the sidewalks were too narrow from the snow, being stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that a sidewalk hadn’t been shoveled and having to figure out how to get off the sidewalk without stepping in knee-deep snow…you get the picture. After awhile, I started longing for Florida just so I could run a long distance without being interrupted by the elements.

We had to get up at 3 in the morning for the half-marathon to be on the bus by 4 and start the race by 6:30. And so my sister and I, along with 13,000 other runners (mostly women, and many of whom were wearing tutus, tiaras, or princess costumes) ran 13.1 miles.

Along the way, we saw all kinds of Disney characters and entertainment:

And when it was over, we spent the rest of the day in Disney World!
I love Disney World. I had been twice before, once when I was eight and once when I was thirteen, and I think I was just as excited this time. We covered a lot of ground in one day- we got to the Magic Kingdom, Hollywood Studios (formerly MGM), and World Showcase in EPCOT on a one-day pass.

The day after that, we headed to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, which was awesome. We went on all the rides (Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey is maybe the best ride I’ve ever been on ANYWHERE), hung out in the wand shop and Honeydukes, and had ourselves some butterbeer.

And what’s next? Well, I think I’ve caught the running bug. I still don’t want to run a marathon (I don’t like running that much), but I think I’m going to sign up for some 5ks and possibly another half marathon.

I don’t think any other race will give me a number like this, though:

Sure Jesus Walked on Water, but Michael Phelps Swims Through Land

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Wish I could say I came up with the title myself, but I have to credit this web site for it.

I love the Olympics, both winter and summer. It’s a chance to see interesting sports that aren’t on TV on a regular basis. I especially love watching swimming because I swam competitively growing up. And I’m glad that swimming, a sport whose world championships are usually buried on Fox Sports or ESPN2, has been receiving a lot of attention lately. All because my Olympic boyfriend has actually done it.

I love Michael Phelps, and first of all, let’s get the shallow part out of the way. Yes, I find him attractive. He has a perfect body, a gorgeous smile, and a kind of adorably imperfect face. My last two years of college, he was all over my dorm room walls.

But aside from that, I’ve loved him since Athens because I’m so impressed with him. What he did in Athens was hard enough—six golds, two bronzes—and I remember thinking that he handled himself very well in interviews. Whenever someone talked to him about his swims, he’d turn it around and say something like, “Yes, our whole team did well.” And then, in a move that got a lot of publicity at the time, he let Ian Crocker take his spot in the medley relay, ensuring that both of them would get a gold medal.

Then there was this Olympics, with the eight gold medal swims that kept getting more and more amazing. The unbelievable 4 x 100 relay (thank you, Jason Lezak). The 200 fly where he broke a world record with water in his goggles (seriously, I still can’t get my mind around that). The 100 fly where he was in seventh place at the fifty, then came back and out-touched the Serbian dude by one freaking hundredth of a second. Out of his eight wins, seven of them were world records.

I don’t understand how he did it. Not physically, I mean. I have no doubts that he’s capable of doing all that. He’s a freak of nature. The media have analyzed his anatomy to death—his wingspan (6’7”) is three inches longer than his height, he’s double-jointed, he has size 14 feet, he has to eat 12,000 calories a day, and I’ve even heard that his body produces less lactic acid than normal people’s.

What I don’t get is how he did it mentally. NBC was depending on him to continue winning gold medals to help their ratings. One of his sponsors, I forget which one, promised him a million-dollar bonus if he got eight golds. The media acted like anything less than eight gold medals was abject failure. And I’d say at least half of the American Olympic coverage focused on him.

Like I said, I used to swim, and granted, I’m a nervous person, but I used to make myself sick before meets, going over all my strategies in my head and worrying about making my target times, and the only person putting pressure on me was me. When it’s international media putting pressure on you, how in the world do you block that out? How do you keep that focus? Especially since you not only have to swim in prelims, semifinals, and finals, but also be drug tested constantly and have to answer Andrea Kremer’s annoying, repetitive questions after every race? Forget the superhuman athletic feats and physical features. That’s superhuman grace under pressure.

And even that’s not as amazing as his other accomplishment—bringing this much media attention to a sport that gets less time on ESPN than bowling. On Saturday, when he won his last gold medal for the medley relay, I was in a bar celebrating Julie’s birthday, and when it was time for that relay, everyone gathered around the TVs to watch. And when they won, everybody cheered and started yelling, “U-S-A! U-S-A!”

This, mind you, was in Boston. Home of the Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, Bruins, and some of the most enthusiastic fans of mainstream sports in the world. And here everybody was, all united in cheering for athletes they might never have heard of until that week.

Olympic swimming is over until 2012. But if my Olympic boyfriend’s accomplishments succeed in keeping swimming in people’s consciousness until London, that might be his most incredible feat yet.

The Foul-Weather Fan

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I have a confession to make.

I don’t think I’m a Pats fan.

And no, I didn’t come to that conclusion after they lost the Superbowl. It wasn’t even after Spygate (come on, they can’t be the only team who’s cheated). Actually, it was more like once they started winning a lot, and winning with ridiculously high scores. It would have been one thing if we’d always been the underdog and just started to have a great season this year, but instead, we’re a Dynasty. It’s gotten to the point where it’s impossible to talk about the Patriots without saying the D-word. Honestly, by now I think being a Pats fan is kind of like being a Yankees fan.

Yeah, I went there. (When I shared that thought with my mom, she said, “Be careful who you say that to!” as if I’d said something really offensive.) But really. We’ve won three Superbowls in the last seven years. Why is losing one so devastating? I was reading in the Globe today about how Pats fans are “crushed” and “devastated” and “depressed” about the loss. I even heard someone ask whether this or Aaron Boone was worse. And in my mind, those things don’t even compare. When Aaron Boone hit that home run, our dreams of ending an 85-year dry spell evaporated. (Only for a year, but we didn’t know that at the time.) When we lost the other night…well, we realized we’d have to make do with an 18-1 season instead of 19-0 and three Superbowl titles instead of four. It kind of makes us sound like the high school cheerleading captain who was dating the quarterback and was elected prom queen and got into her top choice college, but then got upset because her best friend wore the same color prom dress. And I’m finding it harder and harder to like Tom Brady. It’s hard to like a guy who’s dating a supermodel, no matter how attractive he is—especially when his situation with Bridget Moynahan and the baby is so sketchy.

Maybe I’m just used to being a Sox fan and rooting for the underdog. Or maybe it has to do with rooting for BC. Another reason I didn’t watch the Pats much this year was because I was busy watching BC football. BC had such a great year, and, like the Pats, blew it in the end. But it was easy to root for a team with so much promise, hoping to reach heights it hadn’t climbed to since Doug Flutie, led by the awesome Matt Ryan, the first guy in a long time to be compared to Doug Flutie.

Would I have been more interested in the Patriots if they’d lost a few games this season? I don’t know. But I do know that on Sunday, while I was rooting for the Patriots in between the commercials I devoted my full attention to, I found myself thinking things like, “Wow, wouldn’t it be an interesting twist if they lost after all this?” and “Well, if we lost the game, it would solve that parade issue.”

So I guess you can call me a foul-weather fan.

Still Not Wearing the Pink Hat

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So the Red Sox have won the World Series again. Which is wonderful, and I’m very happy. But this has a different feel to it than the win in 2004 did. Not just because this time it’s been three years instead of 86. Not just because I’m not in college anymore and don’t have an entire campus full of people going crazy and sharing the moment with me. (Although we did get free booze at work to celebrate the victory—I kid you not.)

This time, it didn’t feel like an impossible dream. Even when we were down one game to three against the Indians, I found myself agreeing with Manny when he said, “Why should we worry?” This wasn’t a come-from-behind victory, even if the Indians were ahead of us in the ALCS for awhile. We led the division all season, at one point by 14 ½ games, and ended up division champions for the first time since 1995. We didn’t have to face the Yankees in the playoffs. We swept the Angels and the Rockies. There was no denying it—this time, the Sox were the favorites.

It’s a weird feeling. Our identity as fans, for so long, was based on rooting for a losing team. Even after winning in 2004, we had a so-so season followed by a really crappy one, and it wouldn’t have been a stretch to think that we were cursed all over again.

But we’re not. We’re a good baseball team with a lot of talented players, both veterans and rookies, and all signs indicate that we’re in good shape for awhile. (Or at least we will be if they re-sign Mike Lowell and don’t even think about A-Rod.)

I can only imagine the thousands of pink hat fans that this new victory has produced. It’s so strange to think that little kids today could grow up without ever having rooted for the Sox when they were a losing team. While I certainly hope we don’t go through another 86-year dry spell, I think it’ll be kind of a loss for those kids. Rooting for the Sox before 2004 taught a lot of us about patience and loyalty. Rooting for them now? Well, the kids will get to go to a lot more parades.

Sports, TV, The T….The Usual Suspects

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So! It’s a great weekend for sports. The Sox begin the ALCS against Cleveland on Friday. My BC Eagles, who are ranked 4th in the country (!!!!! I know!!!! BC!!! We might actually make it to the BSC this year!!!! No, really!!!! Okay, enough with the obnoxious multiple exclamation points. (!)) are playing Notre Dame, and even though the Irish are 1-5 and beating them won’t be like my freshman year when we ruined their season, anyone who knows BC football knows how important the ND game always is to the BC community. Next year, when the game’s here, I am so buying tickets.

* * *
I’ve seen three new shows this season and weirdly, all three (Chuck, Pushing Daisies, and Gossip Girl) have characters named Chuck.

Chuck is cute. That’s a weird word to use about a spy show, but that’s what it is. It’s cute. The creator is Josh Schwartz, who also did The O.C., and it’s kind of got the same nerd humor going on. It seems like once they develop the characters more and figure out where the plot is going, it will get even better. And I kind of hope that Bryce, the old roommate who sent Chuck the email that caused the images to be downloaded into his brain, isn’t really dead. I’m almost more interested in him than anyone else. Oh, yeah, and I love that Chuck completely unironically calls his sister’s boyfriend Captain Awesome. You know how on The Office Creed doesn’t get much screen time but he makes the most of what he has? That’s what Captain Awesome is to this show.

Josh Schwartz’s other show is Gossip Girl, and that’s…not quite as good. I’ve never read the books they’re based on, so I can’t comment on that, but as a teen drama, it’s more One Tree Hill than The O.C. There’s almost no humor and even less heart. The O.C. took place in a beautiful town full of rich people, but it focused on the outsiders. While Gossip Girl is also about rich, beautiful people (but in New York City instead of Orange County), it asks you to care about the insiders. And in the two episodes I saw, these high schoolers, who sleep with their friends’ significant others and have no trouble ordering martinis in bars, were pretty hard to sympathize with.

Then there’s Pushing Daisies, which is…unlike any show I’ve ever seen. After I saw the pilot, I thought it would have made a great movie, but I wasn’t sure how it would work as an ongoing show. But the second episode was pretty good, too. The problem, I think, is going to be keeping up the whimsy for a long period of time. The light, whimisical tone is best in small doses, so while I’m enjoying the show, I…almost hope it gets cancelled. At least then it will get to remain fresh and original forever instead of going stale.

* * *
The T has apparently decided to play music in the stations. This afternoon I heard music in South Station. I don’t think I like this. What if I want to listen to my iPod instead? Or enjoy the relative quiet of a mostly empty T station, if I’m there at an off hour? And seriously, considering how slow the T is and what assholes most of the T drivers are, and considering that last Friday they suspended service during rush hour due to an extremely small trash fire in the Park Street station that was out before the dozens of fire trucks showed up…they decide to improve things with music?

Not Wearing the Pink Hat

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I have a confession to make. After the disastrous series with the Yankees, I considered not watching any more Sox games unless they, by some miracle, made the playoffs.

Then I read this article, which made me very sad. And I have now reconsidered. No matter how depressing watching the Sox gets, I will not be a pink hat fan. You know what I mean. Those fans who only watch the Sox games because 2004 made them trendy and Kapler and Papelbon are cute and isn’t this pink hat adorable. The “fans” who are the antithesis of what it really means to be a Sox fan.

Sox fans are their own breed. Every team has fans, but no other team has so frequently been compared to a religion. “Fenway faithful” is a commonly-heard term. “Still, we believe” became a mantra after the 2003 season. People refer to themselves as “devout” or “lapsed” Red Sox fans. My friend once wrote in her blog, “The Red Sox’ performance has been disappointing, but hardly surprising. But I still have faith. If only I could apply this faith toward religion…”

For a long time, believing in a team that hadn’t won the World Series since 1918 was a point of pride for Sox fans. Our religion dictated patience and loyalty, even in the face of infinite disappointments. We rejected the Yankees as Satan and believed wholeheartedly in the Coming of the World Series.

And then the World Series came, and there was joy throughout the land. But all strained metaphors aside, it was an incredible moment that brought together multiple generations: everyone from my ninety-year-old grandparents, who can still remember the play-by-play of the 1946 World Series, to five-year-old kids at the pool club who announce proudly that their favorite player is, “Big Papi!” When I went to the victory parade, everyone was so happy it just trumped anything negative. At least where I was standing, no one was pushy or obnoxious, just really, really happy. In a city where the Sox are such an inescapable part of local culture, where “Still We Believe” and “Why Not Us?” adorn every business marquis board, where people are pressed up against the doors of the T on game days, where the Dunkin’ Donuts has caricatures of the Sox drawn in the windows, it was a moment of unadulterated joy.

But it also kind of gave us an identity crisis. Suddenly, we weren’t rooting for a losing team anymore. We weren’t just going on blind faith; we knew we could win a championship. We were even expecting it. And although we didn’t win again in 2005, we had a good season, made the playoffs, and didn’t lose the final game to the Yankees. So no one came away with too much bitterness.

This August provided the first real challenge to our post-World Series faith. It’s hard to keep a positive attitude when we get swept in a five-game series with the Yankees. Or when it seems like every day, there’s a new injury. Or when David Ortiz has an irregular heartbeat. Or when, in the most devastating piece of recent news, Jon Lester (who’s only 6 months older than me) is diagnosed with cancer.

But you know what? The Sox aren’t’ giving up. Depsite their constant talk of “the future” and “next year,” despite their trading of a certain scary-looking pitcher to San Diego, they’re still determined to win as many games as they can for the rest of the season. Last Friday, they had a ridiculous number of players out and Lester had just been diagnosed- and they still pulled off a win. Pitchers like Kason Gabbard, Kyle Snyder, and Julian Tavarez are stepping up. New guys like Carlos Pena are hitting walkoff homers. Papelbon doesn’t have a tear, just a “transient subluxation event,” which comes from a Latin term meaning, “He’ll be back.” And Varitek and Nixon are finally back in action.

So if the Sox themselves haven’t thrown in the towel, why should we? Moments like this test our faith, and we need to rise to the challenge. I’m sorry that I ever considered doing otherwise. While I can’t afford tickets (hence the “struggling” part of “Struggling Single Twenty-Something”), I’ll be sitting in front of NESN, listening to Remy and Orsillo, throwing my hat into the air as the Sox are victorious once again.

And the hat sure as heck isn’t pink.