Striking up the band makes for a very fine day

Best. Venue. Thing. Ever.

I’m at the archery yesterday at Lord’s, settled into my seat when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this great orchestra strikes up down the row from me.

Right there on a veranda off the pavilion at Lord’s, as hallowed British sporting ground as exists. It was wild and tres, tres cool.

I’m talking full-on orchestra, woodwinds and strings and drums and a band leader/conductor who wasn’t Tommy Dorsey but was close.

It was the Band of The Royal Yeomanry, part of the British armed forces, I’m told a rather significant band and it was excellent.

Having just arrived at Lord’s from beach volleyball where my senses were dulled by electronic (alleged) music with some Stones and Pet Shop Boys and Beatles thrown in for good measure, it was an incredible study in contrasts.

First off, Lord’s is old school. I mean guys in white sportscoats (Stewards? Members? Princes? Wannabes?) ushering to your seat and being ever so helpful.

I’m pretty sure, if truth be told, the last thing the lords of Lord’s wants is the hoi polloi like me wandering in their clubhouse or offices or whatever it’s called.

I’m pretty sure I was one of few middle-aged Canadians looking bedraggled in shorts and t-shirt who was simply walking around soaking in the atmosphere. No one said anything – they were far too polite for that – but it was one of those “when worlds collide” moments you get at things like this.

But a band?

A band is cool.

Usually it’s the PA announcer trying to entertain the crowd by talking and telling them what they’re about to see or, in the case of the beach, the blaring music and sights to stimulate the audience.

Archery? At Lord’s?

A full band in full military dress playing upbeat tunes that I didn’t know but that I liked an awful lot.

Sometimes when you come to things like this you’re not sure when you’re going to have a “moment.”

Sitting at Lord’s, watching archery after a military band played is the “moment” so far.

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Okay, okay, okay.

I haven’t used this yet because a bunch of readers have mentioned it so …

And, no, I haven’t seen a werewolf yet.

But I don’t tend to run in werewolf circles.

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When non-stories become stories, Vol. 5,240,981

I understand there’s a big kerfuffle about tickets and empty seats at some venues and how it’s cheating the poor Brits out of a chance to see things and, well, and yawn.

You can go back to whenever you like and hear tales of the IOC “family” not using their seats, especially early in the Games. Happened in Athens, happened in Beijing, happened in Barcelona and happened everywhere.

There’s no real solution. These are seats set aside for officials, other athletes, sponsors who pay enormous rights fees and it may not be the best thing in the world but it is, simply, what it is.

Short of offering them as rush seating at the venue at the time of the event – no one knows ahead of time how many are going to be used – I’m not sure there’s a solution.

I chalk the whole thing up to a nitpicky local tabloid media with nothing to do since they can’t tap into cell phones any more and most of the Tall Foreheads are either fired, in jail or on their way to the hoosegow.

It really is a non-story, actually. Heck, I was archery yesterday and the stands – including the IOC “Family” ones – were packed. Ditto beach volleyball and ditto basketball.

Every Games is going to have an early tempest in a teapot, ticketing is this ones. Thee will be others, and some of us will try to put some context on it.

And the tabs will spin it as they do.

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Oh yeah.

I’m typing most of this on the half-hour bus ride from the hotel to the main press centre while a lot of you are asleep.

Pardon the typos, luv.

(I heart this use of the language)

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Hey!!!!

Remember when I put out the plea for alleys around Trafalgar Square to investigate and one helpful Irregular gave me The Harp on Chandos Place?

I’ve been there!!!

One night after a shindig this Tall Expat and her Somewhat Less Tall Partner In Crime shepherded a gaggle of us there and if you haven’t seen Tall Expat and Somewhat Less Tall Partner in Crime leading 20 confounded Canadians around Trafalgar Square you should imagine human ducks trailing after the Moms with the food only more disorganized and a bit more wobbly.

Anyway, it was a great place, we stood outside taking increasingly large chances of being hammered by an oncoming taxi and had a fine night.

So, thanks.

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Yo, Raptors fans? You still here?

Presume you saw that they signed Alan Anderson yesterday but I wonder if you know that the deal is fully guaranteed because they like him so much as a quality guy and solid end-of-the-bench swingman who won’t hurt ‘em if he has to play long minutes.

Helluva story, Anderson is, and it’s a testament to him that he’s got a deal that’ll make him a little guaranteed money.

I’m told by People Who Know that with a roster now at 14, there’s virtually no chance of any additions right now, they want the flexibility an open slot gives them and the most likely thing is they’ll sign maybe three guys to non-guaranteed training camp deals.

Still some Jose chatter going on but nothing of huge significance and they’d still be fine opening the season with what they’ve got.

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Check out Stevie Boy Russell’s work yesterday.

Dude had a good day.

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Best thing I saw yesterday that wasn’t an orchestra on a veranda at Lord’s?

Am standing on the street outside 10 Downing waiting for a bus and there’s a war monument on the island in the middle of the road.

This soldier, in full uniform because he’s been working at the Games and in full on military gait, walks by me and, as he’s walking, turns his head to the right, looks at the statue and salutes.

He holds the salute for the 20 or so paces it takes to clear the monument that he keeps staring and I’m thinking this is pretty cool.

I have no idea if others do it or if this guy was just a tad over-exuberant but it was truly impressive to see.

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Let’s see.

I was on a bus for 40 minutes to the press centre early, a bus 45 minutes to the Horse Guard’s Parade in the morning, another bus to the media transportation hub after that, another 25 minutes to Lord’s, 45 minutes to the MPC (Main Press Centre) after to catch the basketball and then 40 minutes or so home.

Busy day but a fun one and at one point, all I really wanted to do was sit on the grass in Russell Square and chill.

Looks like a nice spot, doesn’t it?

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Truly special women doing truly special things

I know these stories probably got great play back home and deservedly so but I don’t think we can over-emphasize or celebrate what went on here Sunday for a couple of Canadians who really should be considered among the great Olympic athletes our country as ever produced.

Emilie Heymans winning a medal in a fourth straight Olympics is unprecedented – no female diver in the history of the Games has done that.

Clara Hughes fighting through some of the weirdest conditions imaginable – rain, cold, warm, sun – to hang with the lead pack in the women’s road race before falling back may not be a medal-winning performance but it’s pretty incredible what she’s accomplished her career.

I remember the first time I ever saw Hughes. It was in Atlanta in 1996, I was cub reporter with CP, she won a cycling medal that caught us by surprise and I had to race to Buckhead or somewhere like that just to catch the end of her official news conference to write about her.

To think that 16 years later she’s still going strong, after a foray into speedskating to win a Winter Olympics medal, is a story of dedication and athletic ability that might be unrivalled in Canadian sports history.

We have no idea how hard it is to get to a Games, what it takes in personal sacrifice with lives a bit on hold; to do it for all that time, and to do it so well, and to do it in such physically demanding sports is crazy good.

And Heymans?

Diving is, for the most part, a young athlete’s sport, kids, really.

Four straight Games with a medal?

How good is that? Never-done-before-good, that’s how good that is.

These are the kinds of stories that make the Olympics special, history-making, awe-inducing, heart-warming stories of special people doing special things and making their country proud of them.

There shouldn’t be a Canadian today who doesn’t feel at least a little sense of pride that women like Heymans and Hughes are out there waving our flag, making us known, making the world take notice.

It was a one-bronze day for Canada but, really, it was much, much more than that.

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Such dietary choices!

There’s a little coffee-food kiosk just inside the entrance to our main press centre – they make a lovely latte that’s just strong enough if you add a third short of espresso – and they’ve got some sandwiches there I need to try.

Not too many NBA arenas I’ve been in offer you either:

Peppered beef and gherkin

Or,

Cheddar cheese and pickles.

Haven’t tried either, but I sure will. Which one do I want?

The food choices here at our part of Olympic Park aren’t quite as varied as others I’ve been to.

There’s the obligatory McDonalds (some incongruous about Big Macs being the official food for the Olympics?) and a couple of places offering curries and, yes, fish and chips at the monstrous self-serve cafeteria one building over but, overall, far less choice than usual.

Not that there’s a lot of time for eating, actually, but be nice if there was more.

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These guys came up last night in conversation and since the Olympic Park’s in the East End, might be tough for me to see West End Girls.

And I missed a free Pet Shop Boys concert in a park here, I’m told.

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So, no, I did not see Lithuania get drilled by Argentina in the men’s basketball last night here (I was off freezing with my friends at beach volleyball) but my spies tell me Valanciunas was quite ordinary and really had a hard time dealing with pick and roll defence when he was guarding Luis Scola.

Not that it’s too huge a deal, actually, because Scola is precisely the kind of wise veteran who’ll give the kid fits for a while ‘til Valanciunas figures out he’s playing men instead of boys.

Very little other surprises on Day 1.

Americans cruised, Spain won, Brits lost and Nigeria-Tunisia was fun and close.

Hoping to get over there one day soon to catch up with all the familiar faces but, truth be told, if I don’t see the USA play until the playoff round, I’ll be fine. Been watching that circus for 20 years now and it’s getting kind of old.

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Steak and ale pie and a handful of Stryians in a pub down an alley (the Swan, just off Southampton Row near the hotel) was a pretty solid night.

And I know this runs counter to what you might think about me, but having pubs close at 10:30 on a Sunday night made for a better night’s sleep than usual.

With a triple-header today (I are an expert in beach volleyball, archery and women’s basketball today) that early close wasn’t a bad thing at all.

Being the very last table in the joint – they were physically taking tables down around us while we sipped our last ones – was more traditional for us than an early night.

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Get off the bus at the Horse Guard’s Parade, have some time to kill, take a wee walk away from the venue, turn a corner and what’s there?

No, you don’t get to see that stuff wandering Hazelville.

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Remember a couple of weeks ago I was telling you about my friend over here and how she was lamenting the crappy weather? And then I land and it’s at least 30 C every day for the better part of a week and all the sweaters, jackets and trousers (I’m becoming quite British in the language, aren’t I?) that we back were just extra weight?

Well, she was right.

Ran through the darkest clouds I’ve seen in months, something akin to torrential rain, high winds, and then sun. Then some more rain, more clouds, more winds, and then sun.

It was like 22 C when I left my hotel clad in shorts and a t-shirt and about 13 C when I sat down at The Swan 13 or 14 hours later.

The jacket?

Was in the room.

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It's more than just a day at the beach. No, really. It is

Have to admit, I’m starting to dig this beach volleyball gig.

(See what I did there?)

Great venue, fast and exciting game with other, um, ancillary benefits and the four Canucks competing are pretty cool dudes and dudettes.

Guy could get used to the job.

By if you think it’s all hits and giggles and Coppertone, music and scantily clad athletes of both genders, think again.

When I was talking to the fellas for yesterday’s yarn (here in case you somehow missed it and shame on you if you did) the ears kind of perked up when they talked about scouting.

I know it looks like athletes – great athletes, mind you – just playing games in the sun and on the sand, turns out there’s a lot of video breakdown and strategy sessions long before they get on the court.

“If you don’t stay up to date with technology you’re behind the 8-ball,” was how Josh Binstock put it. “When you start a match, you have to know their tendencies. Back when Mark (Heese) and John (Child) were playing (and winning a bronze for Canada back in 1996), they could feel it out and by the second or third game they’d know their deal. Now if you don’t come out of the gate knowing what people like to do, you’re behind the 8-ball.”

Like knowing what?

“What they do under pressure, what they do early, if they pass the ball into a certain place, where do they tend to hit it?”

The thing that changed it, and made it a far better game in my humble opinion as a longstanding member in good stead of the Canada Quadrennial Beach Volleyball Writers Association, was the move to have a point scored on every serve. No sideouts, put the ball in play and see who gets a point. It moves along rapidly, there’s something on the line every second and it makes it far better.

“It was hold on, side out, hold on, side out, then you make your move,” in the worlds of Martin Reader. “Here, by the time you decide to make a move, the game’s half over.

“You can’t coast through matches here, you have to come out foot on the gas pedal right away.”

So there is a bit more to the game than some may think.

Oh and did I mention it’s a great venue with a fast and exciting game with other, um, ancillary benefits?

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How come no parents name their daughters Petula any more?

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Couple of firsts yesterday.

Got on a single-decker bus.

Got call “guv’nor.”

Cool.

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Couple of questions:

Why do judokas wear jackets?

Why is a field hockey pitch blue?

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In a way I suppose this is good because you’re not eating deep fried brown things at 1 o’clock in the morning but, really, I think Our Friends The Brits need to re-think this whole pub meal situation.

At least in the joints I’ve been in – and I can attest the tastiness of a sweet nectar called Lightfoot that we sampled in the Ship Tavern last night – kitchens close at like 8 or 9.

Seeing how we don’t tend to get anywhere until 9 or 10 and could use a wing or a hunk o’ fish or a pie or something like that, it’s quite problematic.

Good for you, sure; but since when would that matter to me.

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Coolest thing I saw here yesterday?

If it wasn’t Yao Ming getting his picture taken while towering over two tiny volunteers in a car park adjoining the Main Press Centre, it was these cool guards down by the Horse Guard’s Parade.

We only stumbled upon them because a volunteer games us wrong directions to the beach volleyball media entrance with was the first minor hiccup of the Games; these people are more helpful than maybe at any Olympics I’ve been to.

And because we were right by 10 Downing and Buckingham Palace, the Churchill War Rooms and other pretty big spots, there were more soldiers than anywhere I’ve been.

And I did see for the very first time, heavily-armed army dudes – I mean like guys toting very imposing machine guns as heavily-armed – which has not been the norm.

Unlike Beijing or Athens or as far back as Barcelona (machine-gun toting dudes at the entrance to the media village there), these Games don’t seem to have that kind of overt presence.

Sure, there’s a missile silo here and there (although I haven’t seen one yet) and I know some of these guys are packing heat somewhere hidden but it’s not quite as in-your-face as it’s been in the past.

Guess that’s a good thing.

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Okay, Irregulars from here, I need a Pub Down An Alley in the Trafalgar Square, Horse Guard’s Parade area. Seems my days might end there for a couple of nights and since I’m in the neighbourhood, may as well check out a local or two.

Thanks in advance.

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Okay, can we please get the competition fully underway?

I don’t know, I’m sure I’m in a minority but I’m only going with “good” for the big TV show here Friday night.

Not ready to bestow “great” on it.

Sure, it was cool with the smokestacks, the flying rings, Bond, the whole sheep-in-the-meadow-thing and, of course, Our Gal Her Majesty Liz.

Nice touches, all. And there were others, for sure.

But if one of the enduring images many will have is of Mr. Bean goofing with the symphony, well … I don’t know.

The first part was very cool, although they kind of raced through the music a little bit and the ending was okay.

Not sure about the flame-lighting thing, though. I think that’s a one-person job, someone who epitomizes the host country and the Olympics, I get that it’s all about passing the torch and next generation and all that jazz, I think that might be better served in the closing ceremonies than the opening.

I don’t know if it should have been Roger Bannister but he would have been my choice. Shockingly, though, they didn’t ask me.

One thing they really have to do, and I have no clue what the answer is, is to find a way to shorten or speed up or something the parade of athletes.

It’s simply too big, and takes too long. I understand entirely the joy every last one of them must feel when they step in the stadium to be welcomed by the fans, the fellow competitors, the world. It is, for many, the best moment of their lives and it has to be a thrill of unimaginable proportions.

But it’s bad TV, I cannot imagine it’s all that much fun for the athletes after the initial wave of euphoria and while I wasn’t in the stadium I’m sure it must have dragged on.

Luckily for the athletes who have to compete today or tomorrow, there was a way to sneak out after walking in; they could make a turn and exit rather that stand or sit around for the rest of the night.

Bet a lot did.

Anyway, it was good, not great. Just good.

You want to come away awed or something when you watch these things open. The archer in Barcelona, Ali in Atlanta (and that was a sad sight, him there Friday), the spectacular expense of Beijing.

Today? Not awed.

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Ok, I owe Irregulars who gave me Lamb’s Conduit a great big thank you.

Perseverance is a fine establishment (Wainwright’s going on the list of favourite amber liquids, I’d say), we did wander down to The Lamb to check it and, all in all, it was a fine night.

Shefali and Kemi were entertaining in the “hey, we made new friends” thing that happens around things like this and how could you not like a joint that welcomes you with this sign on the outside wall:

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Hey, the Raptors did stuff.

Not at all newsy, of course. They signed John Lucas III and re-signed Aaron Gray but I have to think we’re pretty much done now until at least September.

Lucas fills a role as an emergency guard and is an upgrade on Ben Uzoh, as a fifth big Gray’s a solid returnee; neither will shift the balance of power in the league but they’re the kind of deep rotation guys you need over the course of a long season.

Figure Bryan’s pretty much out of money, roster spots and moves because there’s nothing going on with Calderon and nor should there be right now.

Time to let things sit, I think, and see what they’ve got when camp begins.

And I think, on the whole, it’s been a pretty good summer. Not great, not horrible, just good.

Who’s new?

Lowry, Fields, Ross, Valanciunas and Acy, right?

Who’d they supplant?

Well, Uzoh, James Johnson, Jerryd Bayless, Jamaal Magloire and Solo.

I’d say the new guys, overall, are better than they departed guys and that’s what you want, the evolution of a roster.

I have no clue – no one does – on how it’ll all work once they start doing things but there is more talent on this team than there was on the one that started last season.

Thankfully.

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Hey, members of the world’s press corps, listen up:

PERSONAL SPACE IS IMPORTANT AND AN ISSUE YOU MIGHT WANT TO THINK ABOUT WHEN YOU’RE IN MY FACE ON EVERY BUS AND IN EVERY QUEUE.

Thank you.

Oh, one more thing.

IT’S BEEN HOT, BUY DEORDORANT.

Regards.

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I have the vaunted basketball-beach volleyball doubleheader today.

Women vs. Russia in the hoops, men vs. the Brits on the dirt and since Prince Harry seems to be the patron of the host beach volleyball team (that’s a pretty bright Prince, I’d say) I may get my first dose of royalty this afternoon.

Maybe he’ll stop and say hello.

And maybe he’ll bring his sister-in-law. That’d be cool.

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London.

The Smiths.

Yeah, this works.

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I’m sitting in the Main Press Centre right now, a cavernous joint that’s the media hub at Olympic Park (each venue has its own press centre but this is the one with all the amenities) and I’m glancing at the many TVs.

There’s table tennis on one, beach volleyball on another, one’s got nothing but a static shot of the swimming pool, another’s got some rowing.

Yep, the Games are on.

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No, sorry, didn’t get to much of the mail so the usual fare will have to wait a bit. When I get some down time we’ll get to it, until then you’re welcome to try and say hello.

Click. Write. Send.

Cheerio.

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Guy goes to archery and no one has an apple on his head

Sorry I’m a bit late but this morning I was an expert in …

Archery!

Yep, renewed my membership in the Canadian Archery Writers Association this morning out at Lords, watching Toronto’s Crispin Duenas finish eight of 64 in the individual men’s ranking round.

That’s good, right?

Well, sort of, he said.

“Believe it or not, today was kind of a rough day for me, I know I can shoot a lot better than I did today but I’m really glad I came out with the result that I did.

“The rain didn’t bug me at all and there was no wind so that was really perfect, it was just perfect shooting conditions for me, unfortunately I didn’t do as well as I wanted but I wanted a top 10 finish for today and even with bad shooting I got it.”

Anyway, he goes into Monday’s elimination round ranked No. 8 and gets Egypt’s Ahmed El-Nemr in the round of 32.

But the real reason I went?

To see Lord’s Cricket Ground.

It’s almost 200 years old, seats about 28,500, is hallowed land to the sport and I’m glad I got there. It was one of the must-see venues, too bad there was a bit of a drizzle so the picture thing didn’t quite work.

My man Crispin – wrote about him in Beijing, I believe, which would have been the last time I wrote about archery – was kind of cool with the facility, too.

“I want to know how they do their grass because in a 70-metre by three-metre area (the length and width of the shooting lane), I only saw two weeds and in my grass, which is five metres by five metres, I’ve got I don’t know how many. I have to talk to their groundskeeper.”

The sound you hear is some groundskeeper getting fired because of the two weeds.

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So, you’ve all heard of Flat Stanley, right? Little kids story about the cardboard cutout who travels all around the world as something of a teaching tool?

Well, we’ve got Flat Randy here to honour Mr. Starkman. Dozens of ‘em are floating around the Games and we’ll present the final book of pictures to his family sometime.

Yep, I got one. And he went to the Ship Tavern with me the other night.

Wonder where he goes next?

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Raptors schedule?

Didn’t really look at it much, to tell you the truth.

Do know we’re travelling Christmas Day and that bites but after going through last year, this one’s a snap.

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So we’re sitting on a patio outside the main press centre sipping yesterday afternoon when one of us gets the bright idea that we need some snacks.

And, no, not McDonalds.

So what’s Not Grace Kelly find?

Mixed vegetable crisps.

Oh yeah.

Little shriveled vegetables passed off as potato chips and, I tell you, if there’s a more conflict-inducing snack than healthy vegetables that look like chips, I can’t think what it would be.

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Joe Jackson, anyone?

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Brian Williams is, without a doubt, one of the all-time greats.

Can’t think of a more authoritative Olympic voice than him, it’s not a Games without him and when we ran into each other yesterday, it was an honour to share some time.

And, trust me, when he’s talking you through the parade of athletes during the ceremonies tonight, all those little snippets of information he’ll give you come only after hours and hours of hard work and preparation.

We got a look at his briefing book, a binder that had to be three inches thick and, sure, he’s got all kinds of research monkeys that have provided him with information but he had so many hand-written notes, little facts he’s picked up because he’s a voracious reader of newspapers, that he probably could have done it all himself.

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Oh, to live in the fast lane.

I’m walking down the little High Street they’ve set up here between the Main Press Centre and the International Broadcast Centre – a row of shops and bars and post offices and the like – and I see two people sitting with Starbucks cups.

Me being, you know, starved for coffee and unable to find a Starbucks in the Olympic Park, had to stop and ask where they found it because I need to go there.

Well, it seems there actually isn’t one. Not unless you’ve got a credential that’ll get you in the NBC compound because THEY HAVE THEIR OWN STINKING STARBUCKS!

Us?

We have a little jam-packed coffee kiosk that makes a passable latte but not anything like I’m used to.

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No alleys last night, nice little reception at Canada Olympic House in Trafalgar Square and then some quick fellowship at some joint around the corner.

And remember how I told you that you can just walk out of pubs with your pint and stand outside?

Well, it works well in alleys, not so much on main streets. In fact, this joint – and I didn’t get the name – had painted a white line that patrons weren’t supposed to cross lest they get smacked by some cab coming around a tight corner.

And the pub seemed to have in its employ a young bloke whose only job was to make sure no one crossed that line, as we were reminded about a billion times.

No one did, though, and everyone escaped without be slammed by an oncoming vehicle on the wrong side of the road.

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Okay, off to write another archery story, maybe do some basketball and perhaps find a stool to watch the ceremonies. We only got two tickets and that’s cool with me.

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The best venues I've seen are down alleys; and some Raptors news

So I’m doing a little hit on the BBC radio’s 5Live show this morning (I know, la-ti-da indeed!) and the presenter (British for ‘host’) asks me what I think of the facilities.

And you know what? They are fine in a rather understated way, as you’ll see when this little bash full gets going tomorrow night.

Nothing too fancy or over the top at all, which is perfectly fine.

The stadium isn’t “pretty” by any means, it’s certainly not like the Bird’s Nest in Beijing but no one’s painting dirt around it green to pretend it’s grass like they were doing a day or so before the Athens Games began.

It looks nice but not overwhelming and since this little show costs way too much money to put on anyway, it’s fine that they didn’t go over the top.

Olympic Park -- the East End acreage that has the stadium, the velodrome, the pool, the arena and something else I can’t exactly remember at the moment – is, in a word, functional.

Lots of open space for the people to wander, the requisite super store of souvenirs, allegedly the world’s largest McDonalds (no, haven’t been; won’t go) and places where people can just hang out.

It seems to work and that’s what matters.

But what really matters are the historic venues, where they have married British history and sports tradition with the Games. We saw the beach volleyball at the Horse Guards Parade, they’re using Lords Cricket Grounds, Wimbledon, places like that.

The venues here are going to be less breathtaking for their newness and design but they might be more picturesque and more familiar than any ever and that’s quite all right with me.

Guess the goal is to see as many as possible, just to say I did it and if I can convince Tall Foreheads that I can get good stories out of shooting or archery or the beach volleyball, it’ll be possible to accomplish.

Getting to see the places is maybe the best part of the gig. The stadiums in Beijing were incredible (it’s amazing what a kazillion dollars will get you) and the ones in Sydney back in the day were just as lovely.

The best ever, though?

Barcelona. Hands down.

Not sure the view from Montjuic will ever be duplicated.

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Another night, another alley, another great pub.

I tell ya, I know how to pick ‘em. Or at least find ‘em.

This time is was The Ship Tavern, first built in 1549, rebuilt in 1923 after fire destroyed it and it’s outstanding.

Had the single biggest hunk of haddock in fish and chips I’ve ever had – the thing had to be a foot long – and some of the best house-brewed ale I can remember. And, surprisingly, I can remember.

Comely lasses, too.

Best part of this whole pub thing?

You walk up, order at the bar, pay and then can wander hither and yon, even outside, if you want to. Grabbing a pint, chatting with a local or two and then standing the gathering dusk in an alley is some way to spend a few hours.

What's it say when the first souvenir of the trip is a t-shirt from a pub?

I (heart) this city so far.

(An aside to the Irregulars with other suggestions: You know the Ship Tavern is at Holcomb tube stop, will head the other way from the hotel next time we venture out)

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TOD got edged 16-0 and the catcher broke his hand?

Some things never change.

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Any Raptors fans still here?

Not sure how much of this is out there this week – don’t really care since it’s old news anyway – but James Johnson is a Sacramento King and John Lucas III will be a Raptor, likely this afternoon.

The Johnson-for-a-second-round-pick deal has officially gone through and that leaves enough money lying around for Toronto to sign Lucas as a third point guard.

He’s supposed to get his physical today, sign his contract after and he could very well be “introduced” to the media tomorrow.

Oh, and we are coming to Halifax.

Think the big buntoss is down East today sometime to announce it. Not sure how long we’ll be there for but it’ll be a gas, am entirely looking forward to it.

Oh, one more: Schedule’s out tonight at 7 o’clock your time. Have fun with that, not sure what I’ll be doing at midnight and whether I can break away from it to look closely.

We now return you to other matters.

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Sure, London Calling was first (and I wonder how many headlines or ledes to stories will use that stale phrase during these Games) and you had some others but …

Yep, nothing says Old Blighty better than Roger Miller.

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Mail?

Why not, could be some free time during the day tomorrow but I think we’ll do just one on the weekend, Saturday looks stupid busy for all of us.

Click. Write. Send.

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Kind of caught off guard when we were riding in a bus from the press centre back to the hotel last night and we passed a petrol station.

Gas is only 1.28 here and I thought that was kind of cheap.

Oops. It’s pounds, guess maybe I was wrong.

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There is a guy right this minute across the desk from me obviously having a Skype conversation with his family somewhere and I’m quite glad that his young son is wearing his Thomas The Tank Engine pajamas.

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All right, rather slow day ahead, some more women’s basketball to write, think I might get a chance to get over to the arena again to find out what’s happening and there’s a COC cocktail reception tonight at Canada Olympic House in Trafalgar Square, I believe.

Last quiet day before things really get going; wonder if there’s an alley close by.

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It's nice to be understood when you speak

Wow, it’s amazing what five or six hours of sleep will do for a guy.

Feel entirely rejuvenated. And by rejuvenated I mean barely hung over, lucid enough to get this done and alert enough to get through the day.

Feel like a million pence.

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There are dozens and dozens of reasons why London was a good choice to host this little shindig but, from our perspective at least, one stood out:

It’s in our own language.

I can’t tell you how much easier it is knowing that if you approach a volunteer or a cop bobby or a soldier you can converse with them easily, figuring out where to go, how to get from Point A to Point B, where things are.

It hit home hugely on Tuesday afternoon when a quartet of us were trying to navigate entry into the beach volleyball venue, a joint that wasn’t really ready to accept visitors but a place we had to get to for the Canadian practice.

We got off the tube about two stops too late, it ends up, so we were on the wrong side of the fenced-off grounds and somehow talked our way through back entrances and closed gates simply because the guards could understand us.

Usually, at least at the last two of these things I’ve been at, any conversation is greeted with polite smiles and blank stares and ends up with me pointing at my credential and the volunteer or soldier pointing aimlessly in some other direction.

Not here. Nope.

We had two young army dudes open a door in a fence they were guarding to let us down some back road, the next soldier was able to answer our questions about where the actual security entrance was and the polite police officers who stopped us every 100 metres or so understood what we were saying when we said it and merrily sent us on our way.

Civilized, I tell you.

And way, way easier.

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Yeah, you will get some views around here.

And when we were hanging out at the beach volleyball and talking about the venue and the Horse Guards Parade with the athletes, Marie-Andree Lesssard kind of hit on her rather cool existence.

“I think we’ve very fortunate on the world tour. I recall in Milan we were playing in front of Il Duomo … in Rome we play in the Olympic Stadium next to these centuries-old statues, In Paris we played on Champs Elysees so we’ve been very, very fortunate.

“You’re grateful when you’re on the court, whether it’s going good or bad, you’re going, ‘Oh, my God, what a great life I have.’”

Wonder if there’s Beach Volleyball Grunt gig out there I could check out?

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Mail?

Not sure if we’ll do one or two or just throw ‘em out as bonus items but may as well solicit what I can.

You know the drill.

Click. Write. Send.

And I’ll probably say this six or seven times as we go along but any and all London suggestions welcome; I’ve got to try to get out more.

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So I’m walking from hotel to bus stop the first morning and off the main road there’s this alley, like there is off every road.

And, of course, down the alley are a couple of pubs and going on about 90 minutes plane sleep that’s as far afield as I was about to get.

I can report that Greene King IPA is so-so, the Jeffe is, as always, a nice alternative and if you end the night The Bar Of All Hours, a Cobra or two (originally made in India, now in London) isn’t a bad way to go.

And thus endeth Night One.

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This is kind of cool.

Stop by the variety store (or news agent, I guess) to pick up some fresh air and water and the guy looks at the credential and says, “oh, Toronto Star?”

Um, yep.

“Nice. I have relatives in Markham, I’ll tell them to read your stuff.”

Small world and now I’ve got an in at a place where you can pick up a loose Stella if you’re so inclined.

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One of the table conversations last night got around, as it sometimes does, to music and we’re trying to come up with the list of top songs with London in the title or about London.

This was the overwhelming winner, right?

What else have you got?

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I see the Americans drilled Spain last night over in Barcelona and if anyone thinks it means anything, I believe they are sadly mistaken.

If there’s one thing about international basketball that stands out more than anything else, it’s that teams never, ever show their best stuff in meaningless games, and often don’t do everything even in some first-round games.

For Spain and the US, the tournament doesn’t start until the quarter-finals, there’s no way in the world they both don’t advance, and to put any stock in what transpired in a friendly is probably not wise.

We’ll have a full look at the tournament in, I believe, Saturday’s paper but at first blush, you have to figure those two countries are going to meet again. With everything on the line.

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This is cool.

Took what’s known as the Javelin train from Stratford station out here at the Olympic Park to St. Pancras station to start the beach volleyball journey yesterday.

It goes about 225 kilometres an hour – about a six, seven minute ride from start to finish – and it’s an impressive way to get in and out of this park area.

From a guy who’s used to the Smelly Ford Focus in QEW traffic, it was a nice change.

-

 

 

 

Wonderful words to hear at the hotel

Pip, pip, and all that stuff.

(I’ll get used to the vernacular as we go along, promise)

I know I’m in London ‘cause I’m writing this in the lower back seat of a double-decker bus headed out to the main press centre.

We’ll be a little shorter than usual today; got about 90 minutes sleep in two 45-minute stretches so pardon the lack of wit and, I’m sure, more than a couple of typos.

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So, for the first time of the seven of these I’ve done, we’re housed in a hotel rather than a media “village” and get this!!!!

The lobby bar is “OPEN ALL THE HOURS!”

Seriously.

Now, that’s living.

It’s looks like a lovely hotel, the Grange Holborn in the West End and in the 15 minutes I was in there before heading out to the main press centre, the air conditioning worked like a charm and the shower had solid water pressure. Can’t ask for more than that.

What we’ll miss, of course, is the communal feeling you get in those media villages, where thousands of like-minded souls from around the world would be housed in what are de facto high rise condos.

They always had an outdoor bar, a shopping area, a convenience store, a common breakfast room and you’d always run into someone you knew.

Might be a group of Canadians, could be a handful of Yanks, some Europeans. Every night you’d come back and you’d know who’d had a long, tough day by the number of people at the tables swapping stories.

You’d get to know new people, too. You’d see a group of, say, singing Germans one night and then the next night you’d see them again and by the third night you were nodding acquaintances.

By the end of the Games, you might be offered citizenship.

But that was then, this is now and there’ll be all kinds of interesting twists, I think. The hotel, unlike the media village, doesn’t require a credential to get in so who knows what kind of riff-raff we’ll be dealing with.

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Not a bad way to welcome weary travellers at Heathrow.

Salvation Army Band just before passport control

 

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Hope you folks who were whining about the grass needing some water back home were happy with that thunderstorm that hit about 8 o’clock last night.

I can tell you the 250 or so people who were trapped in the plane at the gate with me at Pearson for the better part of an hour weren’t all that pleased.

Yeah, we got a “red alert” warning about electricity in the air, and not the good kind, either, just after we boarded.

Sat there and sat there and sat there some more until we were finally able to push back and get on our way.

No whining, though, comfortable aisle seat near the front, a mini-TV screen that worked and maybe 90 minutes of shuteye.

Dream journey.

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So, what happens here between now and Friday when they kick things off?

Well, some competition – I believe Not Grace Kelly is off to Coventry tomorrow for the women’s football, the lucky soul – while the rest of us get acclimated to the bus system, the main press centre and the amenities.

There’ll be the odd news conference here and there for athletes competing early in the Game so there’ll be some real life stuff to report on a little bit.

But, truly, it’s mostly about figuring out how things work so we can really hit the ground running come Friday morning.

-

I’m taking the 10-minute walk from the hotel to the media bus depot and two minutes in I run across a Subway and 90 seconds later I pass a Pizza Hut and you have my solemn oath never to step in either for the 21 more days I’m here.

The Starbucks that’s between them? Well, that’s an entirely different story.

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Know all those stories about nightmare lines at Heathrow and how horrible getting here is?

Not my experience.

Might have been the smoothest one yet, landed, two volunteers met us at the top of the ramp, walked us – I had Stumpy and Sy from the Sun on my flight – through passport control, they validated our credentials in about 90 seconds and by the time we got through there the bags were on the carousel.

Train ride to Paddington, complimentary ride to the hotel and it wasn’t two hours from wheels down to hotel room opened.

(Yes, I realize the jinx in there, don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.

-

Oh, Raptors news?

I hear the schedule might be out this week or next so you can plan your summers.

-

All right, off to explore a bit and get my feet under me.

More, better stuff tomorrow, I hope.

-

 

 

 

These Games have a ways to go in providing stories

Time to shift in to full-on Olympic mode, I believe (which guarantees Raptors news sometime today in my Life Of Jinxing), because the big airplane leaves tonight and the next missive will be from Jolly Old England, Air Canada-willing.

Not sure how we’ll do for time here but that plan is to have something for you to wake up to each day; pardon me if I miss one early morning, I have a feeling there might be some late nights.

Anyway …

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I have no idea what awaits us in London but I am sure some good stories will pop up because they always do. Like these:

(Pardon me if some have been repeated by they’re what I’ve got)

Barcelona, 1992

Opportunity lost

It’s the first day of the Games, I’m there primarily to cover the Dream Team and Canadian boxers and who knows what else.

First day, I’m sent to cover shooting with is about a three-hour bus ride towards France and three of my boys – Brunt, Farber and Cole, as I recall but I could be wrong – decide to do the boxing draw right by our village.

I drag my sorry butt to the shooting range to cover a guy who finishes 36th or something and it ends up being a line of agate in What Canada Did.

The other three?

They get a private scrum at the boxing venue with Nelson Mandela.

Yeah, that Nelson Mandela.

First time South Africa had been in the Olympics in decades, Mandela was a boxer and, of course, he’s there; I’m on a bus to France.

Atlanta, 1996

Scary ride

Perk and P. Hunter and I grab a cab after the final Saturday night at the track because the volunteer bus drivers had pretty much quit. We’re off to a bar, of course, but the cabbie seems to be going a different route. We’re in a rather dicey part of town, groups on one corner, yutes on the other and now the cabbie decides he needs some gas.

Pull up at the station, guy standing near the pumps and we figure he’s going to: “Good evening, gentlemen; fill ‘er up with regular?”

But, no. He slides open the side of jacket to reveal what looks suspiciously like a gun and says:

“We ain’t selling you no effing gas.”

Yep. Gotta love Atlanta. And that was after the bombing.

Sydney, 2000

A shocking attempt

We’re housed on the grounds of what used to former mental hospital, stark barracks that weren’t too bad and the nice Aussies decided to spice the place up with a pen of kangaroos that were on our walk to the bus spot.

Well, we felt for the ‘roos, they looked all sad in their little enclosure and an intrepid colleague who shall go nameless decided one night – with some help – to let the little cuties out.

An attempt to open the gates led to the discovery that those sneaking Aussies had gently electrified the fence, perhaps knowing that some one would want to “free the ‘roos.”

Athens, 2004

Greatest. Line. Ever.

Main press centre had a nice open-air rooftop bar we discovered early in the journey; a somewhat quiet oasis from the hustle and bustle.

After a particularly late night, I’m standing there sipping and chatting with the comely bar wench because that’s what I do.

Her English could be better – like I cared – and when I asked how late the joint was open, she looked confused and trotted off to speak to a boss or someone.

She comes back, all smiles and says:

“Sir? We are open all the hours.”

Beijing, 2008

Aliens among them

The women’s soccer team played a lot of its games in Tianjin, a huge city about a three-hour bullet train ride from Beijing, forcing more than a few of us into long road trips.

We go one day for a night game with our tickets in hand and land at the main Tianjin train station, a rather opulent, obviously refurbished building with marble floors and all the amenities.

Well, our trip back late, late at night, was from Tianjin East station.

Let’s just say it’s not quite as nice.

We walk in about 11 p.m., a group of bedraggled Canadians wearing credentials and looks of exhaustion to find families – scores and scores of families – sitting in total silence on the cement front stoops, reclined on bags of rice, waiting for the overnight train to Shanghai.

Can’t imagine many of them had ever seen a Canadian, or an American, or any Caucasian and the stares we got – again, in total silence – was amazing.

London, 2012

Who knows!

-

Basketball?

Nothing, really. I presume there’ll be some minor NBA news in the next little while but the feeling I’m getting from talking to just a few people is that things are going to shut down, or calm down considerably, for the next little while.

All the Raptors have to do is get James Johnson to Sacramento do his physical so they can finish the John Lucas III deal; they need to finalize Aaron Gray -- nothing’s signed yet and we know nothing is done until it’s done, don’t we? – and then it’s going to be coasting mode, I would imagine.

Which would be very nice, wouldn’t it?

-

Am sure you saw or heard the news about the Joe Paterno statue being taken down at Penn State yesterday.

Aside from it being an obvious move to remove some of the horrible memories it must evoke for most right-thinking men and women around that campus I truly think there is a cautionary tale here that should serve all kinds of people well in the future.

I don’t know that anyone should ever erect a statue to a living person, we don’t ever know the secrets they hold, the danger is omnipresent about lionizing someone who isn’t precisely what they purport to be.

Now, yes, I am sure there are some living people who deserve such honours like that; I’m sure there are people among us who are what they are, free of terrible secrets or complicity in unspeakable acts of depravity.

But that’s too bad.

We as a society have a tendency to lionize people for what we think they are and how they present themselves and don’t even want to ask if what we’re doing is right.

It was a mistake to put the thing up in the first place, I think. Such honours need to be reserved to celebrate life lived, not one that’s in the process of unfolding.

We rush to glorify. We shouldn’t.

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The end of the weekend mail

All right, folks.

Have at this, I’ve got a quick little par-3 game with Super Son, about a kabillion loads of laundry to do, some packing to take care of and a big, old get-ready shopping spree to take care of today.

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Q: Hello Doug! Yes, The Open has so much natural charm leading to unexpected moments it's always been one of my favourite sporting events. And do you ever tire of those wonderful player announcements? Just listening to Ivor Robson introduce Louis Oosthuizen and Gonzalo Fernandez-Castano is s a thing of beauty - and a joy forever. (Missed the presence of Neil Schietekat this year, though - that was some memorable.)

So, as you head over to Britain I wish you safe travels and many splendid performances to chronicle, and as so many of us here are hoping for great things for our women's basketball team, do you know if you'll be able to cover most (or all!) of their games? Thank you! And have much fun in London - hope you'll be able to do some "things I saw away from the Games" stories as well as all the sports stuff!

Lorie P, London

A: Well, the plan now is to see the five first-round games and then see where we are and I don’t imagine that changing once the Olympics begin.

And the plan certainly is to get out to a few non-Games events but there’s a chance it’ll two, or even three, events a day some days and time may be at a premium.

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Q: This ground may have already been tilled. What special logistical challenges will you face in London covering the most gigantic of events compared to a day-to-day beat? Which of these are you least looking forward to and how will you cope with it?

James A, Victoria

A: The biggest logistical challenge, and it’s the same everywhere, will be transportation between events, wondering if the Tube goes where I have to go and how long it’ll take and if buses run at convenient times. But we figure it out rather quickly most Olympics.

Professionally, the biggest challenge is always knowing enough about athletes you’re not familiar with. In the past few days I’ve done features on beach volleyball players, and a couple of track athletes, so the process of learning has begun but there’s lots of reading and research still to. But that’s also the thing you look most forward to, the leaning process and tell stories about people from, perhaps, a different point of view. You always come away from Olympics with a renewed admiration for the women and men who compete.

Least looking forward to? Probably inevitable rain and security lineups; a tough part of the gig that's not a lot of fun.

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Q: Hi Doug. Ask and ye shall receive!

Acknowledging that the final roster is not settled, who should we see on the floor when the HOTH want to go "big" or "small"? Similarly, who would you expect when the opponents change "size"?

As always, keep well and savour the refreshments!

Lee H, Richmond Hill

A: This is kind of a guess, actually, since Dwane’s going to need training camp to figure out who plays well with each other but I could see “small” being Lowry, DeRozan, Ross, Kleiza and Amir and “big” being Calderon, Fields, Bargani, Davis and Valanciunas. Those would be the extremes, I think you’ll see more of a mix more often.

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Q: Hey Doug: Assuming Jose sticks around all season, can you see, based on match-ups, where some games it's Lowry-Calderon, and others, it's Calderon-Lowry? I think both are 'valid' starting point guards, so I wonder if the above situation would be possible? Thanks again for your efforts at keeping us informed, amused and entertained!

Tim H, Windsor

A: I don’t have any doubt that’ll be Lowry-Calderon and it’ll be one of the best combination point guard tandems in the league.

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Q: Hey Doug: I've noticed that a lot of the national writers for our friends down south aren't giving the Raps much love (won't even make the playoffs!). Just wondering if your fellow grunts in other cities are feeling a little differently about how the team is shaping up. Thanks as always,

Thomas T, Antigonish

A: Differently? No. This team remains entirely irrelevant to a lot of the media at the moment. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just reality. Maybe things change once the season starts but guess we’ll have to wait and see.

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Q: Hi Doug. Although, technically, teams can't speak to prospective free agents until July 1st, do either they or the player's agent secretly let it be known that they are interested prior to the July 1st date? Thank You.

Joe D, Mississauga

A: It would be a gamble, given the league’s history of frowning upon side deals (see Joe Smith/Minnesota) but I am sure there are back-channel conversations every year that allow for plausible deniability for GMs and other executives.

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Q: Hi Doug. I have a question about how these new offer sheets are signed. It seems, according to how they are being reported in most media, like Lin and Fields didn't have a choice in signing an offer sheet with a "poison pill". I haven't read any editorials saying that Lin should have insisted on a more even offer sheet, instead of accepting the one that prevented the Knicks from signing. Could you explain how this process works? Thanks for your insight,

Charlie C, Montreal

A: Oh, they had a choice. No restricted free agent “has” to sign an offer sheet all; he could simply negotiate a new contract with his old team. But if you read the reports, and believe them, the Knicks told Lin to go find out what he was worth on the market and they’d match; he did, they didn’t for whatever reason.

But agents go and solicit offers, bring those offers to their clients and let them decide if they want to sign them.