Tag: sports

From Steve Sailer’s site:

The New Yorker recently inquired “How Fast Would Usain Bolt Run the Mile?“, only to find out according to his agent that “Usain has never run a mile.”

As my old coach used to say, sprinters are born, not made. When I ran track for Bucknell, the rest of the team used to openly mock what they called “the sprinter’s jog”, which is considerably slower than a normal walking pace. Of course, if you were facing another sub-25-second 200-meter repetition as soon as you finished jogging 100 meters, you’d jog pretty damn slow too.

Two of my roommates used to run the occasional 5k, and some girls once asked why I never ran one with them. After they stopped laughing, one of them pointed to a nearby lamp post and said:

“See that lamp post?”

“Yeah.”

“He can get there faster than you would believe. Now see that one?” He pointed to one a little way up the hill.

“Yeah?”

“You can beat him to that one. Also, he won’t make it that far.”

In fairness, I did run a 5k once a few years after that. I barely finished in front of a woman who had just given birth three days before. I don’t recall the time, but I do remember vomiting afterwards.

UPDATE: Very disappointed to see Alison Felix robbed of the 400m gold. She clearly won that race; diving at the finish line should not be permitted in sprints or dashes as it is much too dangerous. She’s been my favorite sprinter for years, as her style is very pretty and graceful. She’d have won gold in the 200m too if she hadn’t been injured at the qualifiers.

I mentioned previously that I was invited to play in a friendly with the first team for the club to which Ender is now on loan. There was just one little detail that escaped me: while the second team plays in the fifth league, the first team plays in the fourth league. Ruh-roh.

This makes a pretty big difference, you see, as promotion and relegation means that the higher up you go, the better and more athletic the players are. Our first team was third league last year, and despite having some really good players, ended up getting relegated, so the challenge suddenly looked considerably more difficult. Having played against our own first team, then with them, in two scrimmages last fall, I knew exactly how in over our heads we were likely to be in a fourth-league game. While I was a member of a fourth-league team that won promotion to the third league, then spent a year playing in the third league, that was 15 years ago.

Ender and I were both substitutes, of course, but he went in at wing with about 15 minutes left in the first half and the team down 2-1. For the first 5 minutes, he looked like a little kid in the scuola calcio who’d joined three years late and had never played in a real game before; he was so obviously bad that I thought the manager might take him out immediately. He was out of position, reactive, late to the ball, and on the rare occasions he did manage to get to it, he didn’t kick it to anyone, he just blindly kicked it forward.

But he wasn’t the worst player on the field, as that honor went to the goalie, the young man to whom Ender had lost the starting position for the club’s junior team two years ago. I noticed, while taking warm-up shots with the kid, that he actually appeared to have regressed, and once the game started my suspicions were confirmed. While the first goal might have been saved and the second one was a really nice shot about which nothing could have been done, the third goal, on a free kick, was totally inexcusable. It was a high bouncer, one that could have been easily saved by either stepping forward or stepping back, but the goalie froze, and the ball bounced over his head and into the goal untouched. 3-1, and right before halftime too.

Needless to say, the halftime talk was not even remotely complimentary. The second-team goalie was substituted in, and, I suspect, has since been promoted to first-team starter.

In the second half, Ender was able to adjust to the speed of the game and the aggression of the players, got some positional guidance from the assistance coach working the sideline, and his play significantly improved. First the striker scored to make it 3-2 with him effectively serving as a decoy distracting the goalie, then he had a phantom assist on a nice cross that would have leveled the game if the goal hadn’t been called off, rather questionably, for some innocuous shoving in the box. About ten minutes later, he got an assist that counted on a slick 15-meter through ball threaded precisely past three defenders to the striker, who promptly put the ball in the net. 3-3.

He came off not long after that, thoroughly exhausted, but he’d put in a solid 35 minutes and the team was quite happy with his performance. He got applause from the team when he came off the field, and one defender shouted, in heavily accented English, “I love dees Americain!” while thumping him on the back.  After the other team scored to make it 4-3, the coach put me in at striker for the last 15 minutes, and I would have had the equalizer in an empty net if the right wing had simply crossed the ball square to me, but instead he pulled it back to the midfielder arriving at the top of the box, who hit the crossbar. Sfortunato, ma c’e calcio cosi.

I didn’t have any trouble running with the younger guys, mostly because I was fresh and they’re not in full game shape yet, but I wasn’t in sync with them either and was ineffective for the most part. Our midfield lost its shape as they increasingly pushed forward for the equalizer, leading to an easy goal on the counterattack for the other team to close out the game, 5-3. After the game, I was one of those criticized for not leaving the ball to a teammate in front of me who’d called for it – I didn’t bother pointing out that I heard the guy and ignored him because there was a defender right on my back who would have had the ball if I’d let it go.

I was actually rather glad to hear the criticism, misplaced or not, because, as I later explained to Ender, no one ever yells at the old guy who is only being humored because he can’t play. We were both invited to come back and practice with the first team next week, but I shook the manager’s hand and politely declined. It was a lot of fun, and it was a game I won’t ever forget, but the veterans’ season starts soon, and apart from a possible friendly or two with the second team, I’ll do better to stick with the guys my own age. More, or as is almost entirely the case, less.

Reason covers the many reasons, most of which are nonsense:

1. The end of the mostly-fake-but-still-compelling fiction that participants were “amateurs” who competed out of mere love of the game.
2. A fuller understanding of just how much cheating went on among the athletes. First, it was the massive revelations about juicing by Iron Curtain teams but post-Cold War, it became clear that many Western athletes (Ben Johnson! FloJo! Marion Jones!) who won our hearts were faking it too (except for Carl Lewis, the greatest track and field Olympian yet one who was never fully embraced by the crowds, either).
3. The mainstreaming of sports TV and the ability of less-popular sports to gain an audience independent of the Olympics.
4. The disturbing spectacle of the Games being hosted by tyrannical and/or bankrupt countries and cities that wasted huge amounts of money on conspicuous consumption (Beijing, Moscow and Sochi, and Athens obviously, but let’s never forget Montreal too!).
5. An endless stream of scandals implicating national-level Olympic Committees but also the IOC itself in just terrible, terrible behavior.
6. The growth in cosmopolitanism around the globe, meaning that we are no longer as mesmerized by “exotic” athletes from foreign countries.
7. Oscar Pistorius.
8. Bob Costas.
9. Rick Wakeman’s 1976 soundtrack to the Innsbruck Winter Games, White Rock.
10. Brazil’s political instability, Zika problems, and inability to control sewage.
11. The long, acrid hangover from the 1972 Summer Games in Munich, during which the Palestinian terrorist group Black September killed 11 Israeli athletes and coaches. In the wake of the murders, the head of the IOC, American Avery Brundage, famously declared that “the Games must go on,” despite “two savage attacks.” For Brundage, a lifelong racist and personal friend of Adolf Hitler (as head of the USOC during the ’36 Games in Berlin, Brundage watch track and field competitions from der Fuhrer’s box and pressured the American track coach to sideline Jewish runners), the second “attack” during the ’72 Games was a threatened boycott of the Olympics by African nations if apartheid Rhodesia was allowed to compete. Beyond all that, endless boycotts for this or that reason, usually tied to politics, not athletics.
12. The Olympics, designed as a means by which France might avenge its loss in the Franco-Prussian War, is explicitly nationalistic in a world that is moving toward greater individualism.
13. “The Olympics matter less because we live in a better world, one filled with innumerable options for leisure and one mostly—though by no means completely—free from the most onerous aspects of geopolitical strife. We live in a world where nations matter less than individuals, a reality that is mirrored by the increasing number of ‘nation-hopping’ Olympians.” And the rise of an actual “refugee team.”
14. The IOC’s insane attempt to control and regiment all aspects of the Games on the Internet, including a prohibition on GIFS, Vines, and other home-brewed content. Apart from all the scandals, the IOC is the athletic equivalent of Metallica, busting the balls of its most-fervent fans in the hope of squeezing a few more nickels out of a dying franchise.

Talk about the Ewing Theory in effect! Who would have thought that Ronaldo going out due to injury after 15 minutes would lead to a Portuguese victory?

I was DEEPLY unimpressed by the French. They played very much like the Germans did in the semifinal, standing back and passing the ball around the perimeter, showing absolutely no urgency or seriously attempting to score. It was another strike against EU-style multiculturalism as the much-ballyhooed Noir-Blanc-Marron failed at home.

One lesson of this tournament is that solid team play and determination beats superior talent. The lesser teams aren’t quite as lesser as they used to be. Between Iceland, Wales, and Portugal, it was an unusually entertaining Euro.

And it’s always fun to see one of the minor powers steal a championship from the usual suspects. What a fantastic goal by Eder in extra time to win it.

This has easily been the most entertaining Euro since I’ve lived in Europe. But as fun as it was to see Wales make their historic run that finally came to a sudden end in two minutes of brilliance by Portugal, it was hard to imagine either team being able to beat the winner of France vs Germany.

The French team is basically a talented African team with a pair of French attackers, plus the most dangerous shooter from outside the box, Payet. They’re very good, but even during the group stage I felt that neither of the highly disciplined major teams, Germany or Italy, would not have much problem with them when they got careless and broke down.

Germany, on the other hand, is still the team that destroyed Brazil, although their inability to score against Italy showed that they miss Miroslav Klose and their three penalty failures demonstrate that they are not the clinical Germans of the Klinsman and Bierhof eras. They also have the best keeper in the world, Neuer, which tends to be an advantage.

I expect whoever wins to win the Euro. And I tend to expect it will be Germany.

To be honest, Germany deserved to win what was a very open, hard-fought 1-1 game, although that was the WORST penalty-taking by both sides that I have ever seen, and I have seen penalty shootouts all the way from the international down to the local scuola calcio. While I’ve seen penalties reach the #8 shooter before, that’s only because both sides were systematically making their penalties, not because both teams had 3 of their first 5 penalty-takers miss.

What on Earth was Antonio Conte doing substituting in Zaza right before the end of the second extra-time period? I would have said it was the worst penalty I’d seen taken in a Euro championship were it not for Bastian Schweinsteiger putting a bizarre lob over the net a few moments later.

The operative theory in the household was that the shooters were intimidated by going up against Neuer and Buffon, the two best keepers in the world. That’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose.

This has been a fun Euro, though, what with both Iceland and Wales upsetting everyone. It’s probably too much to expect Iceland to upset France, even though most of Europe will be pulling for them.

So, the season is at an end, and it felt as if it went by remarkably fast. We started with a bang, defeating the new team 7-1, but we ended it by not only losing to them 3-2, but also finishing in second place behind them.

This was actually a better result than it sounds, since after that first game, they brought in reinforcements consisting of not one, but two, former Serie A players. Now, if you’ve ever competed against a world class athlete, you know that they are not merely better than the good ones, they are as much better than the good ones as the really good players are better than the bad ones. I’ve run track against Olympians and played basketball with an NCAA D1 power forward who made the Elite Eight, and it is just as hopeless going up against professional European soccer players.

They literally scythe through defenders, and pretty good defenders at that. Their technical skill is incredible, and had us back on our heels and defending desperately right from the start.The rest of their team is strong too, with a number of former second and third league players, four or five of whom played with us at one point or another.

I started at right wing, but was moved over to the left to shore up the defense after we went down 2-0, and in the midst of one attack, I could have sworn that we had their attack thwarted with myself and the left defender marking their right wing, and one central defender plus our defensive midfielder tightly marking the attacker with the ball.

He was one of the retired pros; I happen to be friendly acquaintances with him since we played together on an ad hoc tournament team two years ago, and while I didn’t know he was a pro then, I knew he was really freaking good. He wanted to pass to the wing, but I’d closed that option off, so somehow, he managed to create just enough space outside the box to rip off a shot that hit the bottom of the crossbar just inside the right post, then bounced down just inside the line. There was nothing the goalie could have done about it; there was nothing anyone could have done about it. The goalie and I just looked at each other and shrugged. Va bene cosi.

I am proud of our team, though. Even down 3-0, we fought back, with one beautiful 40-meter cross getting headed just over the post before we caught a break when their goalie failed to hold onto a shot and our center mid, following it, tapped in the rebound. The captain moved me up to attacker after that, and about two minutes later, the center mid put a through ball past the defense, I ran onto it, and sent it left as the goalie went right. 3-2.

We almost had a shot at tying it when a long ball went past their defense and I beat their defenders to the ball, except the ball bounced just a little too high and I just missed being able to head it over the onrushing goalie. I was furious with myself, because if I’d slowed down just a little, or trusted our other attacker, who is 6’3″, to beat the defenders, we probably would have scored the equalizer.

Even though I started nearly every game this season, I’m a utility player now, only good enough to fill whatever hole we might have that week, or to come in as a sub when one of the better players runs out of steam. I can only control my wing against perhaps one-third of the opposing wings these days now that many of them are 10 to 15 years younger, but the captain trusts me to have the sense to stay back and help out the defender on my side if I can’t. In 20 games, I don’t think they’ve scored more than three goals attacking up my side all season.

After the game, I was congratulating two of their players on winning the championship when the former pro came over. I told him what a great goal he’d scored, he laughed, agreed, then put his arm around my shoulders and pointed accusingly to one of the defenders, with whom I was also acquainted. “I TOLD you to keep an eye on this guy,” he said. As I am ancient by veteran soccer standards, it’s reassuring to know that I’m not done yet. After all, the mark of a really dangerous team is one where even the lesser players are capable of hurting you.

So, it’s good to know that I can still contribute to the team from time to time. Six goals plus a few assists isn’t a bad finish, although it’s a little disappointing after having scored five of them in the fall half. And second place in the league is a very satisfactory result, if you consider that we finished ahead of all four teams that have been our rivals for the title over the last five seasons. Even though it is not our third title in five years, it very nearly feels like it.

The Vikings select Laquon Treadwell, WR:

COMPARES TO: Dez Bryant, Dallas
Cowboys – Treadwell shows a Bryant-like skillset with his size and
athleticism combination to be a mismatch against cornerbacks on the
outside.

IN OUR VIEW: Treadwell has exceptional ballskills and
catching radius with strong hands to pluck away from his body or scoop
off his shoelaces – if the throw is anywhere within a few feet of his
body, he’ll attack it. He isn’t a sudden athlete, but plays with
athletic twitch and power to be a threat after the catch.

Immediately,
Treadwell should fit in as a possession type of receiver alongside
Stefon Diggs. With improved route-running, though, Treadwell could turn
into a downfield threat, even without top-notch speed.

With Teddy
Bridgewater, the Vikings offense isn’t built around the deep ball.
Treadwell should be effective in the middle of the field and, perhaps
most importantly, in the red zone.

The analysts seem to like the pick, anyhow. We do need another possession receiver; burners are wasted given the limitations of Bridgewater’s arm. I’m a little suprised at Goff going number one, but if you have the chance to take a top QB prospect, you simply have to do so in today’s league.

And word of warning, if you feel the need to comment about how you don’t like/approve of NFL football on an NFL post, I will spam the comment. I’m done tolerating off-topic narcissists who apparently believe anyone cares about their opinion.

While the team is doing great, my season has been a little more down than up. This year is the first time I’ve felt too old at times in practice and I’ve been running out of breath and energy much faster than I think I should. I suspect, however, that it is mostly the unusually cold weather we’ve been having combined with a lack of pre-season stretching and being overweight.

The most recent practice went very well at times. I scored three of my sides seven goals and actually managed to beat a good midfielder off the dribble without using either my speed or strength for the first time in about six years. He was so badly faked-out that he actually spun halfway around and fell down, which inspired no little mocking. I was running out of energy too fast, but I was optimistic that I’d play well in the upcoming game, especially when it became clear that instead of starting up front, I’d play the second half on the wing.

We were up 4-1 when I came in, so the captain told me to hang back and help out our right defender, who normally plays midfield. We were under heavy pressure on that side from two of the other team’s three best players, but despite being overmatched, we managed to keep them from any dangerous chances, although it was repeatedly a close-run thing. Generally, they’d tika-taka past me as if I wasn’t even there, then the defender would slow them down enough for me to get back and help close out the attacker before he could shoot, and they’d either lose the ball to us, put it out for a goal kick, or be forced to pass it back to the middle or the far side. Somehow, we managed to avoid giving up a single corner; I’m not entirely sure how considering how under pressure we felt.

I managed to beat the defender on the right once, but then sent over a horrendous cross that hooked; fortunately it went to our center-mid and we somehow ended up with a corner out of it. The center-mid then promptly headed in the corner, which we thought would suffice to finish off the game. 5-1.

The problem was that our staunch and speedy right defender got hurt on a slide tackle and his substitute, though game, is the only player on the team older than I am. He’s even less technical than I am, so we were pretty seriously overmatched, and the attacker who’d been pressuring us all game blew right by him about 10 seconds after he came in and scored. I couldn’t help, because I’d been forward for our corner kick at the time. 5-2.

That encouraged them to attack hard on the left side, and I got completely beaten, didn’t get back in time, and the attacker sent over a nice ground cross that was promptly buried in the net. That made it 5-3 and they were starting to think they might be able to make a game of it. They also knew that our right side was our weakest link. So, at that point, I quit even trying to go forward and didn’t try to cover their wing much either, I just doubled their attacker every time I didn’t have to break off him to attack the guy with the ball.

That frustrated some of my teammates, who didn’t realize that our defender simply couldn’t stop the guy by himself and that it was more important to shut the guy down than worry about their defender or wing advancing the ball, but the double-teaming sufficed to keep them out of the net for the rest of the game. Fortunately, the captain understood what I was doing, and confirmed afterwards that it had been the right tactic to take in that particular situation.

It wasn’t a very good game for me, but the team played pretty well as a whole. I’ve got to lose more weight – I’ve already dropped seven pounds, but I think I’m going to see if I can lose another 13 to get completely lean and see if that improves my speed and overall performance. I’m also back on the stretching machine and have added 10 degrees to my range, but I’d like to add another 20.

Aging is hard for every athlete, but despite the challenges, I feel very fortunate after running into one of my teammates the other day and being told that he’d just learned, after an MRI, that he was done for good. He was a really good player, a wing with an ability to sneak forward undetected and a powerful cannon of a shot. He’d been out all season already, but I really hated to hear that. I don’t know how much playing time I have left to me, but I’ll do what I can to stay on the field as long as I still have something to contribute.