Winters make me fat

After the previous post regarding MLK, I probably should leave the rest of the day post-less just out of respect. But my body is hurting bad, so I thought I should just write about how badly out of shape I am.

See, yogi, as his name suggests, does yoga every once in a while. I also play when the weather is good. Which means that I o pretty much nothing when the weather gets a little chilly. I mean, pushups and pullups, all 8 of them (twice a week), probably help me not turn into Jabba the Hutt, but they don't do very much else in terms of keeping me actually fit.

This last fact was brought painfully into focus at the first Ultimate Frisbee game of the year this last Friday. I mean, everybody was rusty, so the quality of play sucked anyway, but, wow, I was in BAD shape. Here's how I could tell, as always, in list form:

1. I had my hands on my knees and was dry heaving FIVE MINUTES into the game.

2. They made me defend the weakest person on the team (happened to be a first-timer), and I still got beat consistently. And handily.

3. I subbed out four times, three times of which I got the distinct impression I was being nudged out.
3a. I didn't mind. I took it gladly.

4. The last game was to 5. I pleaded for it to be a game to 3.
4a. I was overjoyed when we got our asses handed to us. 5-1.

5. I can't move today.

Browning 12-gauge vs. yogi shoulder

Winner: Browning 12-guage. Barely. I know, I know, it's a sissy bruise, barely one at all. But if you've got good form, all you should've seen in the pic would be yogi's rippling and unblemished deltoids.

See, this is the problem when you go shooting with friends - everyone's talking, there are pretty women around, you want to impress them with your form, and then, just for the one round, you lose your focus just a bit and loosen up. And of course, since it's a 12-gauge, that means that when you fire, there's a skull-rattling recoil and your shoulder and cheekbone let you know for the next three hours that they were somewhat displeased by the turn of events.

But still, just because it's a matter of pride, I have to include a little factoid that you don't really need to know, but do now that I have told you - I still beat out the kids from Utah to win our little competition. Take that, Hansens.

Shaun White can board.

Damn! Well, OK, I'm not a big fan of the winter olympics; I watch it mostly to catch the wipe-outs, like this poor lady who crossed the finish line in the air, facing skyward, head first, at the end of the alpine. I laughed mercilessly as she picked her bruised body (and ego) up and trudged off to cry on her coach's shoulder. Well, OK, I chuckled a bit, and then felt bad. Anyway, my point is that I'm not much of a connoisseur.

But then I just saw Shaun White (not a big fan of him either) pull off a RIDICULOUS two runs on the half pipe. I mean, it was unreal. Un. Real. I have rarely seen such a separation between the top two athletes in any sport (barring Usain Bolt and Michael Phelps obviously) as I did today, when he thulped the competition into the ground. Bigger air, cleaner technique and great tricks. And then on his victory lap (he was already assured a gold after his first run), he executes a ridiculous I don't know what. Three and a half turns, double flip and oh I don't know, I think he made a bird's nest out of his hair at the end before he landed. Clean.

You could hear the announcers gush over it like 12 year old girls ad try to one-up each other trying to figure out what it was called. Thanks NBC for fucking it up for me. But except that, it was awesome.

Why India SUCKS at athletics

...well, not just Indians, but also Pakistanis and Sri Lankans and Bangladeshis and Nepalis and Bhutanese. And whoever the hell participates in the South Asian Games. In this particular case, the giant snafu was in Dhaka, Bangladesh, where I hope heads roll for this, but this gives you an idea of the amount South Asians care for athletics.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/sports/events-tournaments/south-asian-games/South-Asian-Games-Marathon-ends-7-kms-short-of-official-distance/articleshow/5553100.cms

THEY CAN'T MEASURE THE DAMN DISTANCE REQUIRED FOR A MARATHON.

Oh, and the Indians were far better, check this out: they missed the entire closing ceremony because of a traffic jam.


At first it's funny, and then it's really, really sad. Don't give me this b.s. of "oh we're a poor nation, we're just developing, there aren't any funds." If you can't make it to the ceremony of the games where you won some 90 gold medals, you suck. That's it.

Best ad of the superbowl hands down

DC United Soccer at RFK. Crazy.

OK, so I've been to a bunch of football matches, but this was my first pro "soccer" match at a stadium. (Yeah, I'm getting used to calling it soccer, blasphemous as it may be).

There are many things to be said about watching DC United play at RFK, just outside DC. Here are my observations, in chronological order. More or less.

1. The eastbound Orange line sports a VERY different feel compared to the westbound line which goes into Virginia. You'll know what I mean if you make the trip.

2. There are a bunch of surprisingly ardent fans going to watch DC United play
These fans can be divided roughly into the following groups:
a. Italian Gen2 immigrants trying to pretend that MLS is in the same league as Serie A.
b. Latino Questionable immigrants thoroughly disappointed that MLS is worse than Mexican football.
c. Brothers who are tired of being lumped with ballers.
d. Crazy hot soccer chicks just being themselves. Which was swell.

Plus of course you have bewildered Yogi types who are going for the first time with their England National soccer jerseys instead of DC United.

The rest of my observations can be more or less encapsulated by this photo.

3. The bunch of surprisingly ardent fans is pretty small. The top two tiers of RFK are totally empty.
4. I'm glad most of RFK is empty; any more people and the damn thing was ready to collapse.
5. The whole stadium actually QUAKES when people jump up and down, singing football songs and DC Utd anthems.
6. Fortunately, we didn't hit a resonant frequency - there were enough drunk people (even at 7.50 a beer) that there were enough people out of sync. Even so, there were times when I was lifted a solid 3-4 inches off the ground because of the shaky floors.
7. Beer - expensive. Hot dogs - lousy. Pupusas - awesome. Although be warned, the hot sauce will kill you.
8. Speaking of singing football songs and DC Utd anthems, there were a bunch of SERIOUSLY ardent football fans. There were two sections filled with fan club folk, and Barra Brava are the fucked up crazy ones (Screaming eagles moderately so). I mean, there were the crazy flags and banners and NON STOP singing. Also streamers and firecrackers and smoke bombs. AND a CRAZY shamanesque performance in the concourse at half time, featuring a mosh pit formed around a crazy brother wearing a top hat, an old geezer in a wheelchair, and a giant wearing a kilt and playing the bagpipe. Awesome. Bat-shit insane, but awesome.

Overall, I'd say it's a must go. Sure ticketmaster screws you by charging you an extra 15 bucks for various "convenience charges", but it's well worth watching. Its quite boisterous, and pretty fun. We saw some pretty exciting play; 3 goals in the last 15 minutes, a keeper got sent off, and there was a lot of screaming at opposing players and fans. And the ref obviously. Plus of course, the hot chicks almost made me weep. So all in all, a great evening. Unfortunately three things remind you you're in the US:
1. There are 2,000 people in a stadium that seats 40,000.
2. There is a mascot (Talon, I think. A sad looking Eagle). Sigh.
3. The level of play sucks balls.

Oh, DC Utd lost. But hey, who cares?

Favre welcomed to the Metrodome

UNFORTUNATE PHOTO (OR *VERY* WARM WELCOME BACK)

OK, first of all, I never was a big Favre fan. Listen, I get why some people in the frigid North might be. There's nothing to do in the godforsaken place except park your ass in front of a TV set and watch a bunch of people play ball. I get it. So I would see why you would worship your QB if he's stuck around for a bit and has brought home a superbowl after a drought of several decades.

But this whole Brett Favre Saga has just gotten out of hand. First, he retires, then unretires, then retires, then promises he's done, then unretires and joins another team, then retires, then unretires, then promises he's really done, goes plays ball with some kids, then unretires and joins the arch rivals of the team that he was with for almost two decades.

Oh, and don't forget the tears each time. Yeah, so screw you Favre. You're a selfish, self-centered dickhead. So when you played like a high school quarterback last night, it made me think you're going to have a torrid year ahead. You went 1 of 4 for a mighty 4 yards. And that sack you took from Corey Mays? Sweet.

Although when I saw the pic today on SI, I must say, it does look like Corey is REALLY glad to have you back at QB. Cough, cough. That's either a very unfortunate photograph or one hell of a welcome back.

Steve McNair, and now, Arturo Gatti?????

Oh no!!!! This is terrible news...

This is truly a sad day for boxing. Arturo Gatti, for those of you who don't know, was Welterweight champion of the world in the mid 90s. But it wasn't his champion status that makes him a hero in my eyes; it's his absolute honesty as a boxer. The guy was a true fighter. A bit wanting on technique, maybe. But what heart. And of course, what a jaw. It was made of concrete. I mean, this guy would. not. go. down.

You've got to see his fights against Mickey Ward - one of the most thrilling displays of boxing you will ever see. I was watching the fight (for the nth time) just last week. Even if you aren't a fan, go watch the clips and tell me if your hair isn't standing on end by the end of the fight. And here is a bit from the HBO special about the fight.

Steve McNair, killed by jealous/evil mistress.
Arturo Gatti, killed by jealous/evil girlfriend. (or atleast, suspected to have been killed by the woman)

I'm not absolving them of wrongdoing (what the hell was Steve McNair thinking??? This woman was barely 20, and he has 4 kids...), and I'm not saying all women associated with rich/famous sportsmen are evil. But this is really lousy. I'm all pissed off.