Romance and the Power of the Female Gaze panel with Donna Maree Hanson, Carrie Vaughn, Nick Hubble and Cassandra Rose Clarke. #Worldcon75
Ye cats. I don’t care how big and influential Castalia House becomes in the future. You will never, ever, see me at one of those things. My one experience 20 years ago at MiniCon was considerably more than enough for me. Besides, I have far more important things to do. Tonight, two teams from my soccer club are playing a friendly; the veterans are playing the men’s second team. I am the starting left wing for the former, while Ender is a starter for the latter. The kid is brimming with confidence, claiming his team just has to keep it close until the second half, when they’re counting on us running out of gas. It’s not a bad strategy, since we probably have an average of 16 years per player on them. Our oldest player is a few months older than me, and he’s 22 years older than their oldest player. I realized how much is on the line when I ran into the star of the first team yesterday. He asked if I was playing, and when I said that I was, said that he’d see me there. I was a little surprised (and concerned, since he is exceptional), but he explained that most of the first team guys are coming to watch. Which means the losers will not hear the end of it any time soon.
The Saudi Arabian soccer team refused to line up for a minute’s silence for the London terror victims on Thursday night because it is not in keeping with their culture. A spokesman for Football Federation Australia explained they were told a minute of silence was ‘not in keeping with Saudi culture’ ahead of the match.
Fans were left outraged at the display ahead of the World Cup qualifier against Australia in Adelaide.
Pictures show the Australian team lined up at the halfway mark, with the Saudi players ignoring the gesture as they get in formation to start the game. Saudi players on the bench refused to stand for the minute’s silence.
I want to see FIFA crack down as hard on the Saudi football association as they would on a nation that failed to toe the line on their idiotic diversity-celebrating.
The amount of control and skill exhibited there, not only by the goal scorer, but the three previous players who touched the ball, is truly remarkable. It still wasn’t enough to beat Real Madrid, but it does justify the description of the sport as “the beautiful game”.
My last season started pretty well. I practiced indoor over the winter with Ender’s loan team, and although I did pick up a minor ankle sprain when getting them almost literally broken by the shifty center-mid, I did have one shining moment of Messi-like glory when I managed to dribble past three opposing players before scoring. It was enough to provoke a respectful “whoah” from the young guys; I didn’t bother to tell them it was one of the first times in 30 years that I’ve managed to beat three players in succession without relying on speed.
Of course, the kids show no proper respect for their elders these days. After I was floored by virtue of blocking an attempted cross with my face, instead of rushing to my aid, my obviously concerned son shouted “you break it, you bought it” at the guilty party.
I started most of the games this season, but almost all of them on the wing rather than in attack. We didn’t have a particularly good season, as we finished last in a group that we probably could have won if we hadn’t given away three games to injury, one of which was mine. A number of the younger guys have replaced the old guard, and but we still don’t have a proper replacement for our oft-injured center-mid, and without him we just don’t generate very many good opportunities for the attackers.
But we have a new captain next year, and he’s a bit more of a tactician than his predecessor, so it will be interesting to see what he does and how he shuffles the players around. I’ve played up front with him before, so I’ll be curious to see if he puts me back on the attack or relegates me to the bench in favor of one of the younger guys on the wing. Either way, it’s fine. Given my age, I prefer to play 40 to 60 minutes per game rather than the whole 90 minutes.
Ender’s season was difficult, as he spent most of it coming off the bench and playing on the field instead of in goal for a team that lost all of its games except the last two. But his season ended very well indeed, as he played the final game in goal, held the opponents to two goals, stopped two one-on-zeros (picking up a yellow in the process) and came up with a last-minute kick-save to preserve a 3-2 upset. He’s also very happy to be returning to our club next season; our second team needs a backup goalie since the first-team goalie is moving up to join the vets, so they asked for his return from the loan team.
I’m always sad to see another season end, but these days I’m also relieved to reach one without any serious injuries. This summer, my goal is to cut another 7 pounds, stretch every day, and do speed drills once a week. I’ll need to do all that just to keep up now that we have guys who are 17 years younger joining the team this fall.
The last great American sportswriter is gone. We are fortunate that his words live on. My goodness, how the man could write.
THE boxer and the blonde are together, downstairs in the club cellar. At some point, club cellars went out, and they became family rooms instead. This is, however, very definitely a club cellar. Why, the grandchildren of the boxer and the blonde could sleep soundly upstairs, clear through the big Christmas party they gave, when everybody came and stayed late and loud down here. The boxer and the blonde are sitting next to each other, laughing about the old times, about when they fell hopelessly in love almost half a century ago in New Jersey, at the beach. Down the Jersey shore is the way everyone in Pennsylvania says it. This club cellar is in Pittsburgh.
The boxer is going on 67, except in The Ring record book, where he is going on 68. But he has all his marbles; and he has his looks (except for the fighter’s mashed nose); and he has the blonde; and they have the same house, the one with the club cellar, that they bought in the summer of 1941. A great deal of this is about that bright ripe summer, the last one before the forlorn simplicity of a Depression was buried in the thick-braided rubble of blood and Spam. What a fight the boxer had that June! It might have been the best in the history of the ring. Certainly, it was the most dramatic, alltime, any way you look at it. The boxer lost, though. Probably he would have won, except for the blonde—whom he loved so much, and wanted so much to make proud of him. And later, it was the blonde’s old man, the boxer’s father-in-law (if you can believe this), who cost him a rematch for the heavyweight championship of the world. Those were some kind of times.
The boxer and the blonde laugh again, together, remembering how they fell in love. “Actually, you sort of forced me into it,” she says.
“I did you a favor,” he snaps back, smirking at his comeback. After a couple of belts, he has been known to confess that although he fought 21 times against world champions, he has never yet won a decision over the blonde—never yet, as they say in boxing, outpointed her. But you can sure see why he keeps on trying. He still has his looks? Hey, you should see her. The blonde is past 60 now, and she’s still cute as a button. Not merely beautiful, you understand, but schoolgirl cute, just like she was when the boxer first flirted with her down the Jersey shore. There is a picture of them on the wall. Pictures cover the walls of the club cellar. This particular picture was featured in a magazine, the boxer and the blonde running, hand in hand, out of the surf.
Never in your life did you see two better-looking kids. She was Miss Ocean City, and Alfred Lunt called him “a Celtic god,” and Hollywood had a part for him that Errol Flynn himself wound up with after the boxer said no thanks and went back to Pittsburgh.
It is said, and quite rightly, that America does not produce great writers or great literature. We waited in vain for the Great American Novel, and all of the various pretenders wound up falling well short. But I would say that there is a uniquely American literary form that reached its heights in the 20th century, of which Frank Deford was the last of his breed.
I usually find the “mascot” custom in European football to be ridiculous, bordering on creepy, but there are occasionally circumstances that make it all worthwhile. American sports fans are probably unaware of how an English Premier League team has adopted a dying little boy befriended by its star striker as its mascot.
Bradley Lowery led out his beloved Sunderland for their final home match of the season against Swansea, just a day after his parents announced that his cancer is spreading. The brave five-year-old was the club’s mascot for their final Premier League match at the Stadium of Light this year and also featured on the front cover of the matchday programme. Wearing a Sunderland shirt which thanked the club and fans for their support, Bradley walked on to the pitch in the arms of England striker Defoe, with whom the five-year-old has struck up a close bond…. The five-year-old may have to spend his sixth birthday in hospital but he was able to fulfil his wish to be at the Stadium of Light for the final game of the season.
There are a lot of things wrong with sports, and professional sports in particular. But there are things that are right about them too. In this case, it is a powerful reminder of how love can transcend the evils of a fallen world.
This is hilarious. As a former mixed martial arts man myself, I’ve always been mystified by the idea that tai chi can even be described as a martial art. It’s about as “martial” as yoga or haiku.
For weeks, the mixed martial arts fighter Xu Xiaodong had been taunting masters of the traditional Chinese martial arts, dismissing them as overly commercialized frauds, and challenging them to put up or shut up. After one of them — Wei Lei, a practitioner of the “thunder style” of tai chi — accepted the challenge, Mr. Xu flattened him in about 10 seconds. Mr. Xu may have proved his point, but he was unprepared for the ensuing outrage.
When video of the drubbing went viral, many Chinese were deeply offended by what they saw as an insult to a cornerstone of traditional Chinese culture. The state-run Chinese Wushu Association posted a statement on its website saying the fight “violates the morals of martial arts.” The Chinese Boxing Association issued similar criticism.
The video is both short and informative. Tai chi simply doesn’t have anything to do with fighting. The tai chi master had quite clearly never sparred at speed before. And that guard… ye cats! I’m only surprised the MMA guy didn’t open with a sidekick given such an invitation.
These coverage statistics are truly shameful, especially from ESPN, which loves to devote its commentary to the sexist and racist injustices of others:
Women’s sports have never been more popular — everywhere except on television, that is. Both the quality and quantity of women’s sports coverage is far eclipsed by that of men’s sports and in some respects has actually worsened over time, according to the latest iteration of a 25-year longitudinal study of gender in televised sports news and highlights shows. SportsCenter, ESPN’s flagship program, dedicated just 2 percent of its airtime to women’s sports in 2014, according to the report — a figure that has remained flat since 1999.
The only answer is for ESPN to devote 50 percent of its coverage and commentary to women’s sports. Anything less would be sexist and absolutely unacceptable. It’s 2017! How can ESPN possibly justify such massive inequality in its coverage?
Ratings are irrelevant. What is important is for ESPN to live up to its own, loudly-trumpeted social justice ideals. And until it does, its representatives should shut the hell up about any perceived social justice failures by the various sports leagues.
I was looking up some of the 40 times from the NFL combine and was interested to see where mine fit in the mix. Turns out my 40 was in between Danny Amendola’s and Wes Welker’s. That’s not a bad comparable. Of course, if I’d actually been able to play at the pro level, I’d probably have post-concussion syndrome or whatever now, so it’s probably just as well that I stuck with soccer. And given that Gordie Lockbaum couldn’t make it – I saw him play against Bucknell once – it’s highly unlikely that I ever could have even with an NFL-caliber 40.
Especially since my vertical was a pathetic 28 inches.
This season started great but got a little shaky when I somehow strained that ligament in my leg that nearly ended my playing career about eight years ago. The cold seems to make it more susceptible, but I’ve learned to take myself out immediately when I feel anything, which seems to help, and I managed to play 12 minutes the next game and about 45 the next. I’m still starting, which is something of a surprise since I’m probably the #3 wing in terms of skill when everyone is there, but I do get back better and play considerably more defense than the other two guys, which I suspect is why I usually get the nod over the other two.
On the one hand, it’s nice to be valued and to see your efforts rewarded with playing time. On the other, it’s incredibly frustrating when the team loses and it’s mostly because your substitute simply can’t run with the opposing wing or do much with the ball when he gets it.
Also, as an ex-sprinter, I’m quite happy to come out after 20-30 minutes, then return in the second half all nice and rested, whereas the guys who grew up on 3-substitution games never want to come out and are reluctant to go back in once they’ve come off.
NASCAR has seen crowds shrink at virtually every track, many of which have removed seats, and its television ratings have plummeted. At Richmond, which once routinely seated more than 100,000 fans for races in the premier Cup series, only 60,000 seats remain and they were not close to full for Sunday’s 400-lap race.
“We’re not isolated here,” France said. “Every sport is trying to unlock the new consumption levels and fan interest by a younger demographic. Of course we love our core fan and everyone does, but every sport is thinking carefully about how to reach the millennial fan to get them excited about their sport.”
He said NASCAR will convene a summit next month in Charlotte, North Carolina, bringing in experts from various fields, to discuss the issue.
France also downplayed the difficulty that some teams are having securing sponsorship for next season.
Many NASCAR fans warned of this when NASCAR decided to stop focusing on its core audience in order to reach out to the new fans who, as many predicted, proved to be almost entirely imaginary. And if you think NASCAR’s management is going to learn from their catastrophic failure, then you really don’t understand how SJW convergence works.
The NFL is about to go the same way, I strongly suspect. Notice how, whether it is a sport or a church, the desire for growth combined with a disdain for traditional supporters always results in the same consequence, a rapid and unexpected decline.
That’s something that I was discussing yesterday with Markku. Is it better to restrict the comments and only permit the old school Dread Ilk to participate? That could be done through requiring registration, but doing so might be of limited value since others could still read them, unlike the current separate system. Or is it better to go to the other extreme and permit the sort of free-for-all we witnessed yesterday?
Feel free to express your opinion. I’m not currently planning to change anything, but it would be foolish to assume that VP and Castalia House are immune from the same pattern we observe everywhere from the Episcopalian Church to NASCAR.
Of course, it’s also possible that we are several orders of magnitude away from it being even a potential problem.
I hate Drew Pearson, of course, because he was a) out-of-bounds on 4th-and-17, and b) unquestionably pushed off, committed offensive pass interference, and murdered both Fran Tarkenton’s father as well as the Vikings’ Super Bowl chances in 1975, but his performance at the NFL draft in Philadelphia was downright epic:
How about them Cowboys?! I want to thank the Eagle fans for allowing me to have a career in the NFL. Thank you. I am honored as an undrafted free agent to be selected to make the Cowboys’ second-round draft pick, and on behalf of the five-time world champion Dallas Cowboys, Hall of Fame owner Jerry Jones! … Gene Jones and the Jones family, coach Jason Garrett and ALL THE COWBOYS PLAYERS WHO PLAYED BEFORE ME! … And played with me and played after me! … With the 60th pick in the second round the Dallas Cowboys select defensive back from Colorado Chidobe Awuzie!!!
No question about where his loyalties remain, anyhow.
