And in the end, a nice day of solitude
Here’s the deal, folks.
I’m pretty much done here.
It’s been 23 days, my guess is somewhere north of 40,000 words typed, stories told, pictures taken.
And I’m plumb tuckered out with about six hours left before the flight.
A few little things to empty the notebook and we’ll be back to something akin to usual tomorrow morning, if that’s all right?
You may not know this about me but I’m not the most, um, energetic guy in the world when it comes to exercise. Sure, I’m pretty good sitting at a desk or on press row or in some media room but when it calls for an ambulatory day, sometimes I struggle.
Except, for some reason, the day or two after these Olympic things come to a close.
Four years ago, we dragged our dead tired carcasses up the Great Wall of China with almost the whole Star team at that time.
Was a solo day, most of ‘em had already blown town and – quite honestly -- I needed solitude more than anything. You come to these things and you cannot get away from people and if you can imagine the various personalities, egos and quirks of a group of talented writers and photographers, you can imagine there’s a clash every now and then.
Nothing serious, of course, and blowups blow over very rapidly but when it’s time for some “alone time” it really, really feels good.
So the hours-long trek from was unusual but necessary.
It went hotel to British Museum – Rosetta Stone is pretty cool – to Piccadilly Circus and the gigantic Lillywhite’s sports store.
Then off to Trafalgar Square for a wee bit just to see it one last time and then over to Covent Gardens and finally back home to the Russell Square area.
Or, right, forgot the other stops:
How does The Ship and Shovell (their spelling, not mine), the Coal House and the Round House sound as a series of one-pint resting stops along the way.
I tell you, a quiet day alone is truly an outstanding way to end a journey.
And where’s the final resting place:
Why, of course.
So someone catch me up, please.
What’s been going on back home?
I hear TOD are in the toilet thanks to more injuries than anyone could have possibly imagined and the Argos just whacked their best running back for reasons that seem quite convoluted.
And that is going to be the hardest part about the next couple of weeks, trying to get back to some semblance of norm here and in other work pursuits.
There will be inevitable let-down coming off something on such a grand scale of this, I imagine it’s going to be a bit boring getting back to the relative humdrum existence of Raptors games and practices whenever they start.
The good thing? I’ve got at least a few weeks before anything really comes up Raptors-wise and the national team camp will be fun for a couple of days.
The bad thing? We need to figure out how to write the regular daily stuff in a different way, if it’s at all possible.
These last three weeks have been a hoot telling stories more about people than sports, I’m not sure how that translates back into a daily beat existence. Got any ideas?
Know what we should do?
A mail bag.
Maybe for Friday if I really feel like loafing and taking a full weekend off, maybe for Saturday if other stuff comes up.
But let’s try to do one.
Things I have to do as soon as I get back:
Watch Super Son drive. Yikes!
Walk Super Dog. Probably six or seven times tonight, that’s the kind of energetic little animal she is.
Hug Super Wife. When she gets me at the airport, Air Canada-willing.
Check in with Mighty Red Tigers. I think the regular season winds up Thursday, post-season might start Saturday. Kind of been out of touch.
Watch TV. Haven’t turned the one in my room on the entire journey.
Plop on couch. I need some sedentary time, big time.
Avoid work. Yeah, boss? I’m a ghost for the next few days.
That’s not a bad list, is it?
All right, kids.
Thanks for all the kind words since we landed, it’s been a gas telling stories here that I couldn’t get in the paper in a million years. Think we’ve done a pretty good job having some fun, we’ll figure out how to keep it going when life returns to normal.