A long trip that was fun to watch from afar

It’s been my pleasure.

That’s kind of what I wanted to say after the women’s basketball team got finished with its rather impressive run Tuesday afternoon in the quarter-finals with the Yanks.

It was a predictable result – the Americans are head and shoulders better than anyone here – but that’s not what the story was.

The story was this very interesting group of young woman have now restored Canada to a level of prominence on the world stage they haven’t enjoyed in a decade or so.

I can remember many a night in the early 2000s when they’d be at some FIBA Americas qualifier for the worlds or the Olympics somewhere in South America and every night a couple of us would have conference call with Allison McNeill and maybe a player so we could write a little story about the drubbing they’d just taken.

They knew, and I knew, and everyone really knew that they weren’t ready to compete at that level in the post-Sydney era. They were young and, frankly, not skilled enough to compete with Brazil, Cuba, Argentina.

And after every tournament just about, I’d talked to Allison for a wrap up and she’d say something to the effect of “we’re going to get there but it’s going to take time. We just have to commit and keep going.”

It had to be hard, no one likes getting their brains beat in regularly with no real end in sight. They could have chucked it all, gone on with their lives and left the game.

But they didn’t. They got jobs in far flung places – Turkey, Lithuania, China, Greece – and played and worked on their games and got better. And every summer they’d come back to the program a little bit better, a bit closer as a team, a bit wiser about what the task was like.

And then they got to the worlds in 2006 and the worlds in 2010 and now the 2012 Olympics and the quarter-final.

It’s been a tremendous story that’s unfolded in basic anonymity for a decade, a story of athletes slogging it out with one goal in mind, to get here. Some women came and some women went, that’s always going to happen. But most bought in, stuck it out, got it done.

It’s not a big story, I guess, never was. But the totality of it, what they did, is an important story and should be told.

I’m glad it got told, I’m glad they got here, I’m glad they were rewarded.

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So they put on these little concerts most nights in the courtyard area between the Main Press Centre and the International Broadcast Centre. Usually two or three acts a night and they’ve had a gospel choir, a barbershop quartet, some dancers.

Last night they had these guys, Gentlemen Duke doing something called Country Folk.

But any band with a fiddler and a bass player needs to be listened to.

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Attention, world media:

I’ll say it again, especially to the guy who sat next to us in the press centre yesterday and particularly to the fellow sitting beside me on the bus home:

SHOWER

I beseech you in the name of all that’s good in the world.

SHOWER

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No, it’s not all fun and games and The Ship here.

It’s work and as I recall, this is how the conversation went:

“What are you writing?”

“Tripe. You?”

“Treacle.”

So there you have it, he’s treacle, I’m tripe, or the other way around.

Seriously, it's not all fun and games and pubs over here; we do do some work.

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In the whole brouhaha over the woman’s football and the officiating, the great Michael Farber had the best line.

It takes a bloke of a certain age to get it but when Mike tweeted this, I laughed out loud.

“For Canada. Soccer ref Christiana Pedersen = hockey ref Josef Kompalla. Discuss.”

Anyone?

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Zaniest thing I saw yesterday?

Wandering down Southampton Row from the bus to the hotel just after 11 p.m. and there’s a Mexican TV crew walking the other way. Two hangers-on, a guy with a camera, and a fellow talking quite rapidly into a handheld microphone while other people on the sidewalk scattered.

Not sure what they were reporting on, there was nothing at all going on, but it sure sounded like an exciting story.

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Hey, you Irregulars have to get up bright and early tomorrow.

Every great needs a caddie and, barring any zaniness like news happening today, I’m going to carry Cathal’s bag up to Coventry for the big football match and I’ll be joining him on what should be an epic IGBT.

Be there, or be square.

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Big.

Boy.

Basketball.

Quarter-final day in the men’s tournament and I cannot wait, to tell you the truth.

Going to go and sit through all four games – first men’s hoops I’ve seen since I got here – and the plan is for some kind of day-long diary here on the web later tonight or overnight or whenever I get it done.

Kind of looking forward to it.

And much looking forward to the games – Spain-France, Russia-Lithuania, Brazil-Argentina and USA-Australia.

As I mentioned, thanks to my new career as an archery-beach volleyball-swimming-cycling-athletics reporter I haven’t been to a game but I have watched some and talked to some people and I’m not going back on my original prediction.

I think Spain gets the USA in the end to win gold and Russia’s going to win bronze.

Trust me on that, would you?

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Inept officiating is too often an Olympic problem

Of course they got hosed.

Anyone with two eyes can see that the women’s football team was robbed in the loss to the Yanks in the semifinal, done in by inadequate officiating in the biggest game of their lives.

Everyone wrote it (Cathal’s piece is here) and the true shame of it is that there’s nothing anyone can do.

I’ve often said in private conversations that the refereeing in team sports when you get to this level is, basically, atrocious.

The game has become too fast for some of refs – and I’m talking basketball and football because it’s what I know best but I presume it holds true for field hockey, water polo and volleyball – and the players are simply too good.

I put the blame solely on the world governing bodies, FIFA for football, FIBA for basketball, because they are the ones who nominate the officials, they are the ones who decide who gets to do the games and the pick too “fairly” too often.

They take refs from countries where the game is emerging and not that important and plop them down onto the biggest sporting stage in the world. It’s stupid.

And then when they fail, either blatantly as she did last night or subtly like you see time after time after time, nothing happens.

Now, I don’t know if last night’s ref is a veteran or a rookie, highly regarded or an afterthought. But there can be no debate that she was overwhelmed by the moment and choked.

Until these global organizations start spending more money and time on referee development – and, most important, get past this idiotic notion that anyone can ref any game and put the best they’ve got on the biggest game – travesties like last night are going to keep happening.

Truly a shame.

And a sham.

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The bar here in the press centre is named after Steve Parry, a legendary, now deceased Reuters sports editor and that’s a fitting tribute.

But if you’re Canadian and you hear that name …

Who doesn’t like a little Journey in the morning; hope Armstrong and Devlin are reading.

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I know it’s a legitimate sport and the athletes are wonderful but you cannot have wrestling without turnbuckles, can you?

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This was an Olympic moment I’ll never forget, a very cool few minutes that came about entirely out of nowhere.

Had to go cover cycling yesterday – and if you thought my trampoline knowledge was lacking, you can only imagine how lost I was trying to decipher women’s omnium cycling – and it was a hoot.

The mixed zone (where we do our interviews) is pretty much right in the middle of the track!

So we’re down there talking to Tara Whitten’s coach (I didn’t ask a single question so as not to prove my ignorance of the sport) when all of a sudden we have to stop chatting.

That’s because not 15 metres away was the medal ceremony for British men’s sprint gold medalist Jason Kenny. All the pomp, all the circumstance and there’s little old me, smack dab in the middle of it. Was going to grab some flowers to send home but though the better of it.

But standing in the middle of a track, seeing the British flag raised not 20 feet away and hearing the crowd bellow God Save The Queen was as cool as it gets.

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After far too long an absence, got back to The Ship Tavern last night for a few – the Tribute cask ale was as good as I remember – and of course there's a conversation with the barkeeper.

She’s born in Sweden, now a Londoner, the conversation got around to Mats Sundin and the pucks (I know, I know, a true slip by me) and whether she’s a fan of the game.

Seems the answer is yes.

“They actually fight and I like that.”

Despite that, I’m still going back there at least one more time before we come home.

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This is why R. Doolittle, Cub Sportswriter, is the Rookie Of The Year.

We’re back from The Ship having one in the lobby and there she is, over in the corner, just back from watching the football match in a pub, typing away.

Anyone who’ll sit in a lobby bar and sip water while writing a story about watching a game in a bar can play on my team any day.

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So there’s this collection of buildings, with an open-air patio-like thing at the top just beside the basketball venue here at the Olympic Park.

I’ve been told it’s an NBC compound and I figure maybe that’s where the decide how to screw over viewers by tape-delaying everything so that writers and tweeters can scoop the network any old time we want.

Then I find out that, no, that’s not it.

It’s actually the Today Show set and I’m figuring if I can sneak in there today on my way to the women’s game, that’d be a heckuva good Olympic moment.

Might cost my credential but it’d be fun.

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I’m thinking 10 or 12 hours of men’s basketball on quarter-final day might be a wonderful way to spend a Wednesday.

And it’ll keep me away from sports I know nothing about. You’d appreciate that, I bet; am thinking the bosses would, too.

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The greatest event of the Games? I'd say so

We all know there are a lot of incredible sports events scattered over the year and in every different competition.

There are championship games and big games and playoff games and, way back in the day, prize fights that were and are truly “moments.”

Nothing – nothing – beats the men’s 100 metre final at an Olympic Games.

Nothing.

It’s like 80,000 fans, or 100,00 fans, or however many fans there are in the stadium, collectively hold their breath for a second until the gun goes and then they are in awe for the less than 10 seconds it takes to run the race.

And maybe that’s why it’s so special. There is huge anticipation and it’s over in a flash. There is a purity and a simplicity to it that is unmatched anywhere, ever.

Gun goes. Run fast. It’s over.

No reliance on teammates, no “playoffs” that stretch out forever.

And it’s probably helpful in some strange way that it only occurs every four years. We don’t get tired of the same guys doing the same thing on some circuit of meets because we don’t see them.

We watch them at the Olympics and we might watch them every couple of years at the world championships but that’s about it. It’s that kind of uniqueness that adds to it.

I’ve been to big fights and they’re cool, the build up to them is substantial and there is – or was back when fights mattered – an aura to them.

But I’ve also seen 100 metre finals – didn’t go last night but saw Donovan Bailey win in Atlanta and Usain Bolt win in Beijing – and nothing compares.

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At least it’s not Chumbawumba but this one’s getting on my nerves, too, since the ask the crowd at basketball to sing along with it at least once a game.

So you should hear it, too.

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There’s like a jillion reporters here and pretty much we all come through the main press centre at least once a day and just inside the door there’s a tiny coffee kiosk that’s always busy.

Why, then, did I walk up there this morning and the three lasses all said, pretty much in unison, “a triple shot latte, then, Mr. Smith.”

I am far too predictable it seems.

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Someone told me that NBC did not show the men’s 100-metre final live?

That cannot be possible, can it?

Sometimes I just don’t understand people.

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Yes, I most certainly did ask aloud yesterday:

“So, if a horse is DQ’d, can the team still compete?”

Seriously, you get quite the education around these things.

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Oh, yeah. We meet some famous people indeed here.

Me and Wenlock are mates now.

And I might be in the minority, at least that’s the impression I’m getting, but I don’t mind these mascots, My Thing Wenlock and its buddy Mandeville.

Now, they aren’t Cobi, the one from Barcelona that I thought was very cool and there were little Oompa Loompa-like things called Snowlets at Nagano and the fuzzy, furry, funny dudes and dudettes from Sydney were outstanding as well.

If I had to rank ‘em, I’d probably go

Cobi

Olly Syd and Millie from Sydney

Wenlock and Mandeville

I honestly don’t remember what they stuffed animals were like in Atlanta (I’ve been trying to put that Olympic debacle out of my mind since the second the plane left the ground for the flight home) and I’m not sure they’ve yet finished the ones for Athens.

So there you go, Olympic Chickens through one man’s eyes.

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Canada-USA Monday-Tuesday women’s team sports doubleheader?

Neat.

Now, I don’t think the basketball team has a chance, the Americans are simply exponentially better than anyone here and making it a game for a half, or even into the start of the third quarter might be a victory for Canada’s ladies.

And you want to know how long the Americans have been good for?

The last time they lost a women’s Olympic basketball game, two of the Canadians – Natalie Achonwa and Michelle Plouffe – hadn’t been born.

That’s domination.

The soccer?

Who knows?

Cathal thinks they Canucks have a chance and he knows way more than I do so we’ll go with that.

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Today I are an expert in women’s omnium cycling and women’s hurdles.

Lucky, lucky readers

Gotta run, sorry this is a tad short, somewhere there’s a sport I know nothing about that needs to be covered.

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Good stories aren't always about winning; and midway medals

We gather last night at the end of a very busy day and we’re talking about the story of the day.

You’ve got the trampoline gold, the swim silver, the cycling bronze and, you know what?

The very best story was Paula Findlay, last in the triathlon.

It pretty much summed up what we are, and what these Games are and what it all truly means.

We love medals, we celebrate them, they’re fun and they make us feel good.

But we admire, truly admire, athletes who compete through tough times, who stick it out because finishing is what matters, it’s important and getting the job done and seeing how it all works out says far more about an athlete than where they finish, I think.

I don’t know Paula Findlay, not sure I’ve ever even been in a scrum when she’s spoken, but I have so much admiration for her it’s not even funny.

And you should, too.

Here’s a woman who could have packed it in and no one would have been all that troubled by it. She was hurt, it was a tough slog and at some point if she’d stopped and explained it all we would have said, ‘ah, tough luck, too bad.’

But she didn’t.

She got through it because it mattered to her and she knew it mattered to the people who support her and care about her. She did it because that’s what elite athletes do, they fight through.

Last in the triathlon is not good, no one’s suggesting that it is.

But I honestly think that willingness to finish says more about her than any podium finish would, it tells you she knows what matters and who it matters to.

I saw the quote where she apologized and that’s just wrong.

She did it. She got through it when it would have been easy not to.

Yes, Rosie MacLennan was great and Ryan Cochrane was great and the cycling team was great.

The story of the day was Paula Findlay.

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The woman are at Old Trafford and, I swear, you cannot have enough Ricky Hatton in a sports blog, can you?

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An Olympic moment.

As I’m watching the trampoline and, as you can imagine, I have no real idea what I’m seeing.

Bosses ask for a play-by-play of Rosie MacLennan’s final routine, I get a’scared about writing it because, well, because I have no clue what they do in the air but the coach, Dave Ross, comes through in a pinch and it’s like I know what I’m talking about.

I (heart) the Games.

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Words I uttered I never thought I would:

“Was that a triple somersault or a double?”

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So we’re halfway through this marathon (at least the competitive portion of it, I think I’ve been here long enough to be able to vote) so …

Gold

The Ship Tavern

Great place, fine suds, a piece of Haddock about a foot long, tiny snugs, it’s down an alley, a five-minute walk from the hotel, a comely young lass drawing the pints.

If they put one in Hazeiville, I’d never leave.

(Haven’t wandered down to Cheshire Cheese yet; that’ll be second half gold)

Gold

The venues

Archery at Lord’s, beach volleyball at Horse Guard’s Parade, the Olympic Park is functional without being ostentatious and everything seems to work.

Silver

Hotel

Yes, it has a bar that’s OATH (Open All The Hours) and it’s fine but it’s also just a hotel; I’d much prefer a village where the world’s press all lives ‘cause it’s far easier to meet new people that way. I’d trade a wee bit of comfort for being able to arrive home every night and join some table of some people from some country and decompress.

Silver

The weather

Let’s see.

It was 33 C the first few day and unbearable. It was 16 C one night at I was the beach and cool. One day it poured for about 15 minutes, got clear, poured again, got clear. It’s teeming rain right now as I look out the window here to my left; I glance to my right and see clear blue skies in the distance. Weird.

Bronze

I got none.

Really.

Through this first week I haven’t even seen a hiccup let alone experience one.

It’s, of course, the jinx we all know well but these things have run swimmingly so far.

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Hey, it’s Simcoe Day weekend, right?

What are you all doing?

Funny how it’s not a long weekend here.

Well, it’s a long weekend but not that kind of long weekend.

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Gotta run a bit early and a bit today, am helping run Team Star over here today (think herding cats only with very nice people in the role of cats) and there’s much to do before I head to see the women play basketball.

And after a day where I wrote about a double-amputee 400-metre runner and trampoline, kind of like the thought of getting back into my comfort zone.

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Tramps, hoops and a wee bit of track; just another day

Am off later today to cover trampoline and if I see one of the competitors show up in a Chicken costume carrying a couple of basketballs, I know who the gold medalist will be.

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Of course, I was happy.

And, frankly, a bit nervous.

You know we’re not supposed to cheer except for our story (I guess I could say it was a better story the way it played out so cheering was allowed) but when the women’s basketball team won, I pretty proud of them.

You know how I feel: It’s a good group of dedicated women coached by an excellent staff and run by a program that’s finally getting fully turned around.

And when they qualified for the quarters, I really do think it was some kind of watershed moment.

Now, they’re likely to get drilled if they meet the States – USA hasn’t lost in something like 37 straight Olympic games – and Australia’s going to be incredibly tough in the final preliminary round game.

But I agree with the likes of Kim Smith and Chelsea Aubry that this program’s success – two World Championships and a top-8 Olympic finish – could do immeasurable things for the growth of the game in Canada among young women.

We know where the men’s program is headed – which is up – and now that the women have established a benchmark, it’ll be up to the men to match it. They haven’t – I always said it’d be the 2016 Olympics or maybe the 2018 worlds before they’re totally legit on a global stage – but maybe now the young men say, ‘hey, we need to get going, the women are better than us.’

And talking to Wayne Parrish after the game, he pointed to Rio as a true turning point.

“Our young women are ranked third in the world, our young men are ranked fifth in the world. When you put all that together with the performance that we see and the resilience we see from the women this year, you have a helluva combination for 2016.”

I’ve been around Canada Basketball for more than a couple of decades now – going back to the late, great Jack Donoghue and I honestly cannot think of time when both the men’s and women’s programs were so promising.

Not bad, eh?

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Seriously, a song about Manchester by Davy Jones and that’s where the women’s football team plays its semifinal?

I don’t have anything better today and there probably isn’t much more obscure.

 

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Things I never thought I’d say:

“Does anyone have a scoring table for heptathlon handy?”

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Hey, Londoners! Come on home. Really.

Was talking to my new buddy who has a relative in Markham and who runs the little mom and pop news agent by my hotel this morning and he confirmed what I had thought.

The city is relatively empty.

The business people are working from home, a whole slew of locals have fled, the students are gone and, outside of the Olympic people, there are no tourists.

And, sure, it’s pretty cool for the venues and some of the hotspots but the small local guys – like my pal – are getting killed.

Not sure that’s what they had in mind when they got these Games.

“Never seen it so quiet,” is how he put it.

So come on back, I’ll stand out a round some night. It’s kind of fun here.

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The public address announcer at the Olympic Park basketball venue never shuts up and the only thing worse than the timeout hostess asking 8,000 or so fans to do the wave is asking them to do the wave while making “as much noise as you can.”

Grrr.

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Note to Marriott:

Yes, every hotel should have a 15-foot high stone thing in the lobby.

On second thought, if you come around the corner after a night out and run into this thing, you might be a tad startled.

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Thanks to The Swan (one of the Bars In An Alley) for staying open until midnight on Friday, it was nice to get one in before the bell.

And I do think that’s a much more civilized way to signal last call; they ring bells quite loudly to let you know it’s time to go home, far better than forcing servers to wander around yelling at patrons.

(I’m told that’s what happens in Canada; I’m rarely out at the time).

But this whole closing at 11 during the week and extending the hours to 12 on Friday and Saturday is mystifying.

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Been here a week and a half almost and have yet to eat at the McDonald’s here at the Main Press Centre.

Somewhere, someone must be proud of me.

Of course, haven’t really eaten that much of anything but am growing quite tired of the beef and gerkin or egg salad or aged cheddar and various relish pre-fab sandwiches they have at all the venues.

I can just picture some huge factory on the outskirts of the city where thousands of zombie-like workers are slapping sandwiches together 24 hours a day to feed starved writers.

A true Olympic experience.

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So, 80,000 people at the track on 10 o’clock Friday morning, another 80,000 there Saturday night, a jam-packed basketball arena for Canada-Brazil women, standing room only crowds at beach volleyball every session I was at and a record-setting audience up in Newcastle for the women’s football yesterday.

Think some folks have to go back and re-write those ticket rip jobs from a few days ago.

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Of blade runners, basketball, movies ... and, of course, a pub

Little items today.

A few of them but nothing really stands out.

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Sentences I never thought I’d utter.

(To a volunteer in the main press centre as I was writing my track story)

“Ma’am, could you please change the channel on that television to badminton?”

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Finally!

In our Adventures In Pubs part of this shindig, finally found a Samuel Smith joint, the Princess Louise on High Holborn just a stone’s throw from the hotel.

Sam Smith’s Organic Lager might be the favourite beverage of that ilk anywhere in the world; crisp, not too heavy and you can’t find it everywhere. Think the barman said there were less than 40 Sam Smith pubs in the city – not including Free Houses, I would think – and it was a pretty good find.

And if you find it in a 140-year-old pub with all kinds of snugs and tiny rooms with ornate wainscoting and some mirrors that were part of the original structure, you’ve hit the motherlode.

Yes, this trip isn’t half bad at all.

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Yes, they take their warnings seriously around these parts. Saw this on some electric relay station or something outside the main press centre.

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It’s about 8 a.m., I’m going on about four hours sleep again with a long day of track, basketball and then track ahead.

I do not need, at any level, a group of exuberant volunteers a few rows down singing Happy Birthday to someone.

Really.

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Someone needs to explain to me how a list of the best movies ever comes out and not only does Citizen Kane get kicked out of first place, it’s kicked out for Vertigo.

Vertigo isn’t even Hitchcock’s best, every right-thinking person in the world knows that Rear Window is Alfred’s best, let along the best ever.

These people need to give their collective heads a shake.

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So as I’m researching the track story, I have to find some Oscar Pistorius quotes, or at least some background information on the South African blade runner.

And it seems he had a press conference somewhere here this week and there’s a nice full transcript.

Quote of the day on how his Mom influenced him is priceless:

"My mother said to us one morning, 'Carl (his brother), you put on your shoes, and Oscar, you put on your prosthetic legs.’ And that was the last we heard of it. I didn't grow up thinking I had a disability, I grew up thinking I had different shoes.”

Pretty good, no?

However, I’m not entirely sure I agree with the Court of Arbitration’s decision to overturn the IAAF’s ruling that he not be allowed to compete here.

It’s a tough one, no doubt. He’s met the qualification standards, there is medical evidence that there is no physical advantage to racing on prosthetics and those are probably the two biggest issues.

But it gets dicey in my mind. And you need to know I all about inclusiveness and think treating people equally well regardless of almost any circumstances.

But here? Here I think Pistorius should probably be in the Paralympics. Those are the Games that put him, so to speak, on equal footing with his other competitors, his presence there will, in some way, raise the bar for other amputees, he gives them a standard to try to meet.

I think if there’s a “cause” to advance, it might be best that he advance it against others in similar circumstances.

I don’t know though. I could probably be talked into changing my mind because his presence in the Olympics could very well stir others on to try and match his accomplishments and proves how we should not view amputees as different but as normal athletes.

Either way, it’s a pretty good story and that’s a pretty good quote.

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You know me and roundabouts (or traffic circles as we know them).

Well, there are a billion of ‘em here, we go through half a dozen or so each day on our drives in and out of Olympic Park and, get this, they also have traffic lights.

Traffic lights at roundabouts?

Kind of like wearing suspenders and a belt, isn’t it?

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The beach boys got knocked out of the Olympics last night, the women were eliminated in the afternoon and I fear my journeys to Horse Guard’s Parade are now over.

That’s good in a way because the incessant music was nice and all but they play this song about every 40 seconds it seems and it’s been rattling around in my head for days.

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I see the Americans edged Nigeria 156-73 in the men’s basketball here Thursday night.

Yeah, that’s the kind of delightful game that’ll “grow” the sport incredibly.

No, the Yanks didn’t run up the score, it’s just the way the game unfolded and it’s the kind one-off rout you’re going to get every now and then.

The story over at the basketball – and, yes, I’ll get there one day soon, haven’t been able to yet because other things are getting in the way – would be Lithuania, which is 1-2 and the coming showdown between Russia and Spain that could be epic.

The Lithuanians are interesting, I’m told. Valanciunas has been okay but only played seven minutes the other day against France for some unknown reason and they are just 1-2 and seem destined to barely squeak into the quarter-finals.

I wouldn’t read too much – heck, I wouldn’t read anything – into the Valanciunas numbers, which are quite underwhelming. First off, numbers don’t tell the story; secondly, it’s a different style of play and, third, the kid has skill. So, please, don’t sweat it.

As for Russia-Spain, it’s a huge game between two very good teams with an awful lot on the line.

The winner, if all things play out as expected, won’t have to face the Americans until the gold medal game; the loser would have to play the USA in the semifinals.

It goes Saturday at 11:15 a.m. our time and I think I need to be there.

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A tank job with serious consequences

So, badminton has tanking! Cool. Wonder who they want to draft?

Oh, right. Never mind.

Anyway, sure you heard about the scandal and the badmintoners (don’t think shuttlecockers works) were tossed out of the game for playing as well as you and I do with the nieces and nephews at the backyard barbecue in between burgers and sips.

It’s a tough one, isn’t it?

The reason everyone’s here is to win medals and if you have to lose to have a better shot at winning, well, isn’t that what the folks back home want?

But you know me and tanking.

I’m all about respecting the game and doing your level best every time you step on the court, field or pitch. It’s at the heart of competition, it’s why they keep score, it’s what you have to do.

Throwing games – and watching two teams try and lose was kind of like the Raptors-Nets last game of the season except for the Ben Uzoh triple-double – is just wrong.

Sorry, Not Grace Kelly. You make a good and valid point here but in the sober light of day, I think any self-respecting athlete needs to give his or her all every time they play whatever they play.

If you want to be the best you have to beat the best and whether that’s in an early playoff-round game or a first-round game or a game for a medal it doesn’t matter.

You’re here to win gold, silver or bronze, yes. It’s why countries go to some expense to send athletes, they want to be able to say we have more medals than the next country or even Quebec. But somehow the pursuit is cheapened by intentional losses or manipulating the standings table and it really does take away from the accomplishment.

I guess the answer is not to have round-robin play, or early pools, or whatever, in some sport. I know there have been basketball teams at various world championships or Olympics that have taken a loss so they could avoid someone in a crossover round and that’s wrong, too. I’m not sure having direct elimination in every sport right from the start can be done but it would indeed clean up some of the mess.

I know I’m being a bit Pollyanna-ish here but it’s part of my charm. I want true competition and best efforts every time I watch something, I want the athletes to respect the game, the opponent, themselves by trying to win every time out.

The organizers got it right when they tossed the offending athletes out of the game, they broke the spirit of the rules and the rules themselves.

Okay, that’s about all we’re going to do on badminton.

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Another night, another alley (or at least a tiny street off a bigger street), and an evening that verged on epic ensued.

The Tall Expat and the Somewhat Less Tall Partner In Crime hooked us up with The Coach and Horses, an apparently well-known established hard by Leicester Square that was home to some legendary old school writers and is quite a homey joint.

Check it out here, seems like the kind of place, I’d enjoy, no?

And, no, I don’t remember the last time I sang such ditties as Delilah (a group of Tom Joneses we’re not), a few Monkeys tunes and a Beatles song or two while sipping a local nectar.

Oh, and TE and SLTPIC playing the tambourines and dancing was just a nice touch. Really.

Didn’t get the name of the duo playing the piano and doing the warbling so I’ll just call ‘em Two Guys In Funny Hats.

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You know what’s not an issue here that everyone was worried about?

Traffic.

Been here 10 days now and have not seen one traffic jam that’d I’d even consider remotely bad. Even with dedicated Olympic lanes on many roads cutting down the available space to drive for the locals there’s been no gridlock, no discernible delays, nothing.

And I haven’t heard any locals complain, either.

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Because I’m generally at them every fourth summer what television network broadcasts the Olympics really doesn’t matter to me a whole lot.

But if Brian Williams isn’t the prime time host, Canadians are getting ripped off and I hope the overlords at the CBC realize that now that they’ve got the next two shows.

I have no idea if Brian wants to go back or will go back or even wants to keep doing this gig but there is no broadcaster in North America who is as good or as knowledgeable or as willing to ask tough questions or make critical comments than our guy Brian.

He is to the Olympics on TV what Randy was to the Olympics in print.

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Guess I was in the Soho district here last night and that was after walking through Chinatown and I think someone said we were near Little Italy so …

(You knew we’d get the Pogues in here one day, didn’t you?)

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One thing I’d wish I’d seen?

Brent Hayden winning the medal last night.

As I mentioned the day before, he was totally emotional just about making the final and to think he got there and came away with a bronze is wonderful story.

Rosie wrote it great, as she always does, and it’s truly an outstanding story for a guy who has been through the Olympic ringer.

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Some context.

When I’m talking about Pubs In Alleys, this is the kind of place I’m referring to.

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All right, once more into the beach today, I guess; and then some track and field (or athletics as it’s known over here) and who knows what else might pop up on what’s looking like quite an uneventful day at the moment.

Cheerio!

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Good stories told from an outsiders view; that's the Games

Yes, I was quite glad to have the chance to see Michael Phelps swim last night – first swimming story I’ve done in maybe two Olympics – and it’s true that stars do attract the crowds.

Which is what the Games are about to guys like me.

You’ve got people there like, well, like me, who don’t know the front crawl from the dog paddle (there should be dog paddle races, seriously) but we do know a story when we see one.

It’s perhaps the most fun part of covering these things, getting out to see some history and some world famous athletes and trying to chronicle their exploits without knowing the intricacies of the sport.

It’s hard, and I don’t know that we do it particularly well all the time but it goes to the essence of sport. It’s about the athletes more than it’s about the athletics, good stories about people well told.

We could sit there and try to explain the specifics of the event, like how Phelps was between strokes when he hit the wall at the end of his 200 metre race to be edged out by Le Clos of France South Africa (I screwed up) but, really, that’s not the issue, is it?

I would presume, and tell me if I’m wrong, that you want to know about the moment and the athlete more than the game and, sometimes, the result.

Am I right?

Think so, which is why I really like coming to these events. And why I think readers are generally well served. It’s fresh eyes telling old stories from a different perspective. Fun for us and, I hope, fun for you.

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Coolest thing I saw yesterday?

We’re headed back to the hotel on the bus about 11 p.m. after Phelps-Hayden and pass this truck.

I kid you not, it’s

Eels On Wheels!

Yes, live and jellied, pick your poison and I wonder how many kids want to grow up and be an eel salesmen or delivery guy.

Not sure it’s a lucrative job, though, haven’t seen eel on a menu yet.

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All right, this isn’t about London but they play it at every single basketball game and urge a section of the fans to sing along and I can’t get it out of my head.

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So, you wonder what these mentally-strong, finely-tuned athletes are thinking about when they’re in the middle of competition.

Sometimes nothing, at least that’s what was going on with Phelps last night when he was anchoring the relay for his 19th medal.

“I started smiling with 20 metres to go, it’s the first time I think I’ve ever done that in a race.”

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I don’t know if it’s more boring or angering when the tired old Quebec-Canada thing comes up and, yes, I have some friends in the Francophone media who are great guys but some of the others …

Well, they’re dopes.

It wasn’t 10 minutes after the Bronze Bonanza yesterday when the first “hey, we have more medals than Canada” comment was made.

Yawn.

It’s what you get at the Games every now and then, some guy trying to stir up some kind of controversy or make a name for himself and it’s simply tiring.

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I don’t know about the basketball but those bile-green fluorescent shoes a couple of Aussies were wearing yesterday are quite off-putting.

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I’m not sure why but the name Loudy Wiggins (an Aussie diver I saw Tuesday) makes me giggle and smile.

Loudy Wiggins.

Sounds like someone from Harry Potter.

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No, I didn’t get to see Valanciunas yesterday because I was doing this and then had to get to the swimming.

Was told by various spies that he was better in Game 2 than Game 1; I’m going to get over there one day soon, I hope. But it may not be until the quarter-finals, lots of other things going on.

Did check in with Jose electronically when I saw him take a shot in the head.

And, yes, more stitches in the same eye he cut twice at the end of last season; that’s 12 total in the three cuts.

No, Spain will not “rest” him and tank the next couple of games.

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Dude across from me, speaking indeterminate language quite loudly, has to have some North American connections because he had his cell ring tone as the Popeye The Sailor Man theme and I don’t imagine that’s a globally known cartoon.

And thanks to him, I had that damn song in my head all day.

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Want to see where we do most of our work?

This is the MPC, media hub at Olympic Park. This is also in the morning, it’s usually pretty full and saw two things there yesterday for the first time, and will see them an awful lot as the Games go on.

There was one dude slumped over his computer sound asleep – it is a good spot to catch a nap at the end of the day – and there was a guy on the phone doing play-by-play in some indeterminate language of, I believe, judo.

It’s hilarious to see people screaming into their phones “covering” an event going on somewhere else. Not sure what the folks back home think but, really, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

You get that a lot here, actually. Sometimes you don’t have time to get a bus from one venue to another in time to see something so you watch it on TV and talk about it. And sometimes if you’re trying to play catch-up on event you simply can’t staff for any logistical reason, writing off quotes that are on the information system has to do.

It’s not perfect but it’s how we roll.

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Dear Raptors.

Please, in The Name Of All That’s Good In The World, do not ever, ever, ever schedule a game in any time zone anywhere in the world that starts at NINE FREAKING O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING.

Kind regards,

Tired Grunt who doesn’t know enough to go to bed a reasonable hour.

Speaking of reasonable hours, go back after the Phelps thingy in time to catch last call at The Swan in the alley down the street.

And since they stop pouring at 11 p.m. weeknights (12:30 on Friday and Saturday and to that I say halleluiah) that was writing to a tight deadline.

Veteran move, indeed.

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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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