Good series and a good table tennis story
Getting to be a time of many, unrelated little items.
Hope you don’t mind.
This is turning into one pretty good World Series, no?
Outside of that one blowout, it’s been the best one in a while and I really hope it gets to a Game 7; that kind of drama is a perfect way to end a season.
Even casual sports fan friends seem to be interested, which flies in the face of the commonly held perception that you need big markets or traditional teams to generate a lot of buzz.
Never quite believed that; I don’t really care about ratings because I’m not in that business. I do care about competitive series with compelling storylines and figure that’s enough for the true fan. Remember Cleveland-Atlanta? Anaheim-San Francisco?
Hardly Yankees-Dodgers or Red Sox-Mets but all of them turned out to be great series that caught the attention of everyone and laid waste to the feeling that no one will care if it’s not “big name” teams.
Of course, this story from last night about a breakdown in communications between the dugout and the bullpen was the big sidebar of the evening.
Seems Tony LaRussa called down, the noise was too loud, wrong guy got up and it was a total schmozzle.
Seeing how I can get in touch with about anyone in the world through the magic of the bbm and phone, you’d think that would be the least of the worries in a major league baseball park.
Here’s what they might want to do: Since LaRussa uses more relievers in more matchups than any manager I can remember, maybe about the sixth inning everyone should get up and get loose.
Just in case.
From the Department of Your Favourite Grunt As Susan Lucci …
Heartfelt congrats to our boys and girls over at the photo department for copping Best Blog Award at the Canadian Online Publishing Awards last night.
As you know, they do great work; I’ll get ‘em next year. No disgrace in losing to that group, they really do fantastic work.
Are we in such a hurry as a society that people can’t wait for me to get off an elevator on the ground floor before they go rushing in?
This, folks, might be as good as there’s been in this whole NBA thing from one of the most under-rated general columnists out there.
We miss Dave D around the game.
So, I make one of my few forays down to the Mother Ship yesterday (life seems to be keeping me away) and plunk myself down amid the Tall Foreheads ‘cause my desk is just south of Queen’s Quay and I need to be close to chat during the NFL thingamabob we do.
Anyway, for some reason you don’t need to know (well, if you insist, it’s because TTN is the wire-service code for table tennis) one of the big shots mentions that some tennis table icon (Kjell Johansson of Sweden) has died and there’s a story on the wire.
Now, perhaps because I’ve written marathons and tennis and golf and NFL more in the last two weeks than I’d care to mention, it got me thinking about my one brush with big league ping pong.
It’s at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics – I’m there for The People’s Wire Service and we are all things to all people – and this dude from Canada, Johnny Huang, somehow pulls of a miracle upset of some dude from Sweden, with the King of Sweden or some luminary of that ilk, in the crowd.
Well, now Johnnny’s in the quarter-finals and we all race over to cover the next big match/game/set/period/quarter, whatever it is. As you can imagine, the collective table tennis intelligence of the five or six of us caught up in Huangmania is rather limited so we’re figuring we watch, we talk to him, we write some compelling tale of greatness.
Doesn’t Johnny go and lose the quarters and we’re all waiting to chat with him and lament his loss while praising him for prior glorious ping-pong triumphs.
We’re in the mixed zone, tape recorders at the ready, when Mr. Huang comes and goes, blows us off and we’re told something to the effect of “he doesn’t want to talk.”
Blown off. By a table tennis player. A guy in a sport who should be so willing to get his game and name out there he should come to your room to be interviewed if that’s easier.
We register somewhat vociferous angst over this turn of events, Mr. Huang comes back to chat and all’s right in the world.
First and last table tennis story I think I ever wrote.
Some day soon: The time the PR flak lost the medal winning boxer in Barcelona and how Stephen Brunt might have saved my career.
And thanks to the magic of youtube …
Nyah, nyah, nyah.
Long Live Hazelville.
Oh yeah, reports are now that we don’t get an “indefinite” postponement of the NBA season, we’re going to get a couple more weeks chopped off the season today.
Around the office, the deal is I can’t jump in a write too much about the NBA until something actually happens but even then it is a rather taxing endeavour.
As I was telling Tall Foreheads, not sure what the fourth paragraph of any story would be.
First: League cancels more game.
Second: No new talks scheduled.
Third: Dispute about how to share $4 billion or so in revenue.