Archive for the ‘Athletic Pursuits’ Category

High fives all around?

Thursday, May 2nd, 2013

Earlier this week, journeyman basketball player Jason Collins revealed he was gay, the first active male player in a major American team sport to do so. In a first-person piece in Sports Illustrated, he wrote: “I’m a 34-year-old NBA center. I’m black. And I’m gay.”

That’s applause-worthy. And Collins was greeted almost universally with kudos. It was striking to me, idly flipping channels, how positive and receptive the coverage was: Anderson Cooper and Andrew Sullivan – to whom Cooper  came out of the closet earlier this year – spent half their time effusively praising his writing. Collins’ high-school coach made the cable rounds.  Over on resolutely flyover-state Good Morning America – whose weatherman casually dropped the news not long ago that he was getting married and to a man – the anchors took time for a round of cheers.

The mainstream media’s collective high-five is evidence, if the polling isn’t proof enough, of the seisimic shift in public opinion on homosexuality. Indeed, in this environment, those not in full-throated support seemed out-of-touch. Howard Kurtz, for one, ran a wanna-be gotcha column that chided Collins for not revealing that he’d been engaged (in fact, he had in his SI piece) that was as egregious for its errors as for Kurtz’s dark-ages assumption that someone who is gay couldn’t have once had – or tried to have – feelings for a woman. Kurtz tried to rewrite his way through the controversy, but eventually the Daily Beast retracted the whole damn thing (and, it seems, Kurtz, too.)

For all of this, there’s something that makes me a bit uneasy about the response, especially when put into context. Female sports luminaries like Martina Navratilova have been out for years, and when a bona fide star of women’s basketball revealed she was gay a few weeks ago, it was greeted with a collective shrug. (I hope I won’t seem uncharitable by noting Collins’ pro ball career as benchsitter.) Why is that? Is it because, as The Atlantic’s Garance Franke-Ruta argues, female athletes are seen as tomboys and from tomboy, it’s not a far stretch to lesbian? Maybe, although I have trouble with Franke-Ruta’s notion that to be a woman and an athlete is to be “nonconformist” – little girls are behind America’s soccer craze and women throng distance races. I’ve got firmer biceps than most guys I know. To be a layabout and female almost seems the exception.

But if you buy that double standard – that it’s less acceptable to come out as a man – then I find the flipside uncomfortable, too: Is it possible we see Collins’ behaviour as heroic because we’re used to viewing male athletes through that lens? Men who play professional sports are stars; women who do are, with few exceptions, hardly household names.

None of this is to diminish Collins’ bravery in laying himself bare. Quite the contrary. I just think that maybe Brittney Griner ought to have gotten some high fives, too.

Nix that metaphor

Monday, April 29th, 2013

From the Post:

Starting pitcher Ross Detweiler fell victim to a series of small calamities, first baseman Adam LaRoche tumbled deeper into a morass of a slump and a funky, left-handed rookie chucked aspirin tablets at them for six innings. The Nationals might as well have stayed in their clubhouse and tried putting toothpaste back in the tube. Beneath an overcast sky at Nationals Park, Reds lefty Tony Cingrani overpowered the Nationals for six scoreless innings….As Cingrani collected 11 strikeouts, including four in a single inning, Detwiler suffered paper cuts and stubbed toes.

Let me get this straight — are aspirin tablets relief for paper cuts and stubbed toes? Can you get out of a morass of a slump by putting toothpaste back in the tube? Is beat sports writing so dull that one must enliven it by a series of nonsensical, tortured mixed metaphors?

Chak de goal

Sunday, April 28th, 2013

When we were growing up, my brother never missed a broadcast of Hockey Night in Canada. It’s hard to overstate, in a country with just two national networks, how iconic that show is: In general, American culture and media is Canadian culture and media. And given all the actors, musicians, comedians, and pundits who make their way south, one could also argue the reverse. But Hockey Night is uniquely Canuck.

At the same time, Canada is a land of immigrants, and it’s hard to imagine what it might be like to be shut out from that communal national experience. (I say this being only moderately a fan of hockey.) Which is why it’s interesting to see a Punjabi-language version of Hockey Night. Also, it’s kind of hilarious to watch.

Shoddy

Tuesday, April 16th, 2013

I know I shouldn’t get all nitpicky at a time like this, but please explain this paragraph:

“I’m still kind of shell-shocked,” said Arthur Webb, of Santa Rosa, Calif….A runner with 100 marathons under his belt, he said he has never witnessed anything like what happened in Boston.

Right, because he happened to pick the 100 other marathons without terrorist bombs exploding at the finish line?!

If IEDs were a regular feature of road races, I suspect Arthur Webb, of Santa Rosa, Calif., like the rest of us, would find another hobby.

We’re all runners now

Monday, April 15th, 2013

I’ve been competing in races for three years now — the piddly charity 5Ks I gasped through with my coworkers don’t count — but I wouldn’t have called myself a runner.

When I’d lace up my shoes and crowd into the corrals with all these taut, trim people, I’d wonder if everyone else thought me a poseur, a fraud. I’ve never walked, I’ve always finished, and in the top of my age and gender. But every time I crossed the finished line, it always felt like a surprise, a miracle, even.

Maybe it was because running has never been natural to me, the way that, say, swimming has been. I jumped into a pool at two and immediately fishtailed through the water. But for me, running has always been a grind; I’m a plodder, someone who guts it out, putting one foot, then another, down. I joke that I like to have run, not running itself. I do it despite myself.

Today, though, like most people, I was riveted by the bombings at the Boston Marathon. And I realised that, as I watched, I was seeing it through a runner’s eyes, feeling the concussions with the finish line in sight.

I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m a runner now.

The evil of earbuds

Sunday, April 7th, 2013

Let me take a moment to voice my opposition to that most loathsome of practices, the wearing of headphones during road races.

Look, I know that running 10 miles is hard, that you want a distraction. (See my reality-television habit on the treadmill.) I know that it can pump you up to run with a beat. I realise that certain songs can push you through tough segments. I get it.

But there are reasons that race organisers ask you, ever so nicely, not to wear headphones. When you are running a race with thousands of other people, it’s kind of a problem that you can’t hear anyone around you because you’re playing your favourite Beyonce song at top volume. And it’s especially a pain because, inevitably, you seem to be the sort of runner who — maybe, giving you the benefit of the doubt here, is colour-blind — starts with the fast red and yellow corrals, rather than with the plodding purple that’s on your bib. So, everyone around you trying for a PR has to get around you while you appear to be actually running in slow-motion. I say trying because you seem to have trouble holding to a straight line or maybe you got distracted fiddling with your iPhone or, wait, you abruptly started walking just like that…and of course you can’t hear the footsteps behind you or the people panting “Excuse me” or “On your right.”

I know this is futile. But, maybe, if I could play to the positives, let me suggest that what you hear is actually an important part of the race. The chirp of early-rising birds, the slap of running shoes against pavement, that crazy DJ who set up his table and is blaring pulse-pounding music just past mile marker 7, right when you need the adrenaline, the woman who cheers for everyone, strangers and friends alike, the swell of the crowd as you power the last few yards to the finish, the communion you feel when you hear everyone around you sharply exhaling, again and again, and you know that, despite the individual effort, you’re sort of all in it together.

You’re missing out.

Opening Day, 2013

Monday, April 1st, 2013

Someone’s keeping score.

photo-55

Spin cycle

Wednesday, January 30th, 2013

I have to say that no matter how hot a guymovie star is, I don’t think I’d want him showing up at my exercise class sans shirt.

Then again, I don’t want someone to shout tripe like “Be honest about who you are trying to be” when I’m breathless and sweating on a stationary bike.

The real presidential race

Sunday, January 27th, 2013

Fairly or not, among presidents, William Howard Taft is known primarily for being fat.

But now his legacy is getting a boost of sorts — despite the popular sentiment for FDR, he’s going to be the newest racing president. Essentially, it’s a promotion onto Rushmore.

What this means for his rep is unclear. After all, the Nats took the hero of San Juan Hill and make him into a lovable loser.

Catfished

Thursday, January 17th, 2013

Why have a “Canadian girlfriend” when one who got into a car accident/got leukemia/died on the same day as my grandma/by the way, I never met will do?

This story is so bizarre that you kind of can’t look away. And I could care less about college football. Or football at al, for that matter.