One of my favorite things about sports is also one of the cruelest things about sports.

Not everyone goes home a winner.

In order for there to be joy, there has to be anguish. In order for an athlete to be thrilled by his or her sense of accomplishment, another athlete has to feel devastated. It is the natural order of competition, and it is also, in many respects, a metaphor for what drives us as a country.

You see it play out every year at the Olympic trials in every sport. For four years, American swimmer Brendan Hansen was the best 200-meter breaststroker in the world. But on Thursday night, for whatever reason, he swam like he was wearing lead flippers, finishing fourth in the final. He'll still swim at the Olympics in the 100-meter breaststroke, but he'll watch his best event on television or from a spot in the stands.

Hansen doesn't find this twist of fate unfair. He won't be lobbying the U.S. Olympic team to make an exception for him based on past performance, and he won't hire a lawyer to file an injunction. He said he'll simply do all that he can to help the two American men who will swim the event in Beijing -- Scott Spann and Eric Shanteau -- win gold.

One of the hard truths most sane people figure out about life is that not everyone deserves to be an all-star. Not everyone should get into Harvard or win a Pulitzer. Cutthroat competition is a good thing, which is why it's so absurd that more and more Little Leagues are eliminating all-star games (like the community of Beachwood, Ohio did recently) or deciding not to keep score, hoping to avoid bruised egos or crazed parents. 

No one can stand the lunatic t-ball manager who coaches a group of 6-year-olds the way Gen. Patton strategized against the Germans, especially me, but on the other side of the coin, there are also important lessons to be taught in winning and losing.

Contrary to the way certain youth leagues are trending these days, not everyone deserves a trophy, and not everyone deserves equal playing time. No one's life is going to be ruined if they're left off an all-county or an all-Metro team. In fact, it might just make them that much more determined to succeed in life and prove the rest of the world wrong.

At every newspaper I've ever worked for, we've gotten calls and emails from angry parents demanding to know why we don't cover junior varsity sports. Or Little League games. "They work just as hard as everyone else," these complaints often mention. "Why can't you mention their names?"

Because, I usually answer, what they are doing is not news. It is, without question, valuable and important and an essential part of the grand experiment we call "community" but that doesn't necessarily mean it's news.

Olympic swimmer Matt Biondi, who won 11 medals during his career -- but is now a math teacher, a coach and a dad -- said something yesterday at the trials that really made sense to me when I think about sports, especially as it relates to kids.

"So many adults want their kids to feel good, so they send them places or buy them things," Biondi said. "They prop them up with value judgments like 'You're such a good boy' or 'You're such a pretty girl.' I realized very early on what kids really want is what's most valuable to you, and that's your time."

Some of the most important moments in my life came when I failed to make a team or earn a scholarship and people didn't make excuses for me. I still remember the score of the football state championship game that I played in and lost: 39-13. I wish I had played better, but I know that failure inspired me to become a better person.

Struggling can be a good thing. Disappointment can be devastating, whether it comes at a young age or if it comes, like Hansen, after four years of swimming laps at 6 a.m. with the goal of making the Olympic team.

The way you deal with it, both in athletic competition and in life, is how we define character.

Hansen photo: AP 

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 3:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

When Ryan Lochte got done with his 200 meter freestyle last night, a few journalists thought it would be fun to ask what he was going to get his good friend Michael Phelps for his 23rd birthday. Lochte and Phelps are both hip hop aficionados and earlier this week, Lochte wasn't shy about the fact that the release of 'Lil Wayne's new CD was something he'd been looking forward to for awhile. Would he hit his buddy Phelps up with "Tha Carter III?" Or would he go for something more sentimental? The horde of media crammed into the mixed zone -- the roped off area where reporters wait diligently for athletes to stop as they exit the pool -- waited for Lochte's answer.

What happened next was the matter of some dispute this morning.

Half of us heard Lochte say he was going to get Phelps "a pair of girls."

The other half heard "a pair of grills," the silver or gold fronts that rappers (and Lochte) have been known to wear on their teeth. Lochte wore them on the podium in Melbourne at the 2007 FINA World Championships after winning the 200 meter backstroke, mainly hoping to make Phelps laugh. (He succeeded.)

The USA Swimming media relations people get volunteers to transcribe snippets of interviews and then pass around those transcripts for people who are working on tight deadlines. It's a frustrating reality of newspapers that you only have so much time to write a story after an event before your paper has to go to press, and so an accurate "quote sheet" can be your best friend when you're trying to make the first edition. The person transcribing Lochte's quotes, an unnamed volunteer not affiliated with USA Swimmming, also thought he said "pair of girls." It made sense, seeing as Lochte admitted earlier in the week that the main reason he and Phelps became friends was their shared interest in the ladies. So not only did I think I heard "girls," I had my assumption confirmed when I looked at the transcript.

We're still not certain who was right, although I'll go to my grave insisting I heard Lochte say "girls." The whole thing is kind of funny either way. Reporters were joking that if it was "girls" then US Weekly and Inside Edition would be dispatching reporters immediately to Omaha to cover the salacious gossip.

Either way, it's always a breath of fresh air when swimmers open up a bit and joke around, showing off some of their personality.

As for what Phelps' mom, Debbie, got him for his birthday?

"Just her being here is enough," Phelps said.

Lochte won't be swimming the 200 meter freestyle tonight, by the way, which deprives us of another amazing showdown between he and Phelps. It's understandable, considering he wants to concentrate on the 100-meter backstroke tonight. Phelps knew all along that his friend was going to drop it (even though he'd be a serious threat to medal in Beijing, considering his times) but the two kept it quiet. They'll face off in the 200 IM final on Friday.

So what did Phelps do for his birthday?

"Eat and rest," he said. "That's it."  

Katie Hoff doesn't have a final tonight, but she looked extremely quick in the prelims of the 200 freestyle and the 200 IM this morning. Her freestyle speed is just incredible these days. The name a lot of people have been bringing up this week when talking about Hoff is Shirley Babashoff, who was one of the last American swimmers to have both distance speed and sprinting speed. Babashoff, unfortunately, never really became a household name because she swam against a number of East German women widely suspected of doping. She won silver medals in the 200, 400 and 800 freestyles at the 1976 Olympics in Montreal. 

Hoff's coach, Paul Yetter, said he was slowly getting around to explaining some of Babashoff's accomplishments, but it was hard to find the time with her swimming so many events.

"We talked a little bit about it as we were leaving (Sunday night), but I think both of our eyes were rolling in the back of our heads at that point," said Yetter. "That's the kind of thing where I don't want to just sit her down and give her a lesson. She'll learn more of it as we go through it all. I think she spent a lot of time learning who Tracy Caulkins is. She spent a lot of time as an (individual medley swimmer), so just now she's starting to learn about all the past freestylers."

PHOTO: Getty Images 

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 2:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

It's only the second day of the U.S. Olympic swimming trials, and already, Michael Phelps has done something off-the-charts ridiculous. Last night he and his good friend Ryan Lochte engaged in a showdown that, at least for now, might go down as the best race in the history of swimming. That may sound like hyperbole, especially considering the race happened at the U.S. trials instead of the Olympics, but when you consider just how close it was over 400 meters (neither Phelps nor Lochte ever led by more than a half a body length, despite swimming four different stroke disciplines) and how fast each swimmer went (both went under the old world record) it's hard to come to any other conclusion.

Throw in the fact that the race was broadcast live on NBC, on Sunday night in prime time no less, and you can imagine there are a lot of corporate executives at 30 Rockefeller Plaza who are exchanging awkward, yet enthusiastic high fives this morning. The gamble NBC took in putting the U.S. trials on late-night television has, in some respects, already paid off. Anything Phelps does this week -- and it looks like he could have another record-setting week -- will only enhance his legend before the network cranks up its hype machine and gears up for the Beijing Olympics in August.

Although the impact is certainly not quite on the same scale, Phelps clearly has the Tiger Woods affect on the sport of swimming. He brings fresh eyeballs to the sport, the kind that otherwise could not be bothered to so much as change the channel to watch swimming. And when those fresh eyeballs do happen to show up, he rarely, if ever, disappoints. That translates into additional dollars and increased popularity. Phelps' race against Lochte last night was kind of like Rocco Mediate staring down Woods at this year's U.S. Open (although in terms of talent, Lochte is more like Sergio Garcia or Phil Mickelson). Lochte pushed Phelps in a way he's never really been pushed before, and probably should have come out on top. Phelps hadn't come within several seconds of his own world record in the 400 IM in more than a year. At the Missouri Grand Prix earlier this year, I watched he and Katie Hoff make a bet as to who could come closer to their world record in that event. Phelps went 4:13, still won easily, and was visibly annoyed as he left the pool. It reminded of me of Woods shooting 69 and stomping off the driving rage to work on his swing.

Woods' name comes up often in the swim community when people talk about Phelps. Natalie Coughlin, Katie Hoff, and Brendan Hansen all invoked the comparison this week. Matt Lauer mentioned it on the Today Show, and ESPN.com columnist Pat Forde also made the connection, arguing that in Woods' absence -- as the world's best golfer rehabs from knee surgery -- Phelps might be able to fill the void for the American sporting public.

The comparison still seems like a stretch for some, especially those who only bother to follow an Olympics sport like swimming once every four years. But what I find interesting about the comparison is that the parallels extend beyond just popularity. Like Woods, Phelps has an uncanny ability to stay calm under pressure. Other swimmers walk out of the warm-up pool with three thousand thoughts bouncing around inside their head. Phelps is able to simply slow everything down and wipe his mind clean.

"It’s always fun to see Michael really dig down and just focus under the pressure of events like this," said Bob Bowman, Phelps' coach, after last night's 400 IM. "I think that’s his best attribute. It’s always fun to see that." 

In addition, the physical transformation that Woods has helped golf undergo is analogous to the one Phelps helped revolutionize in swimming. There has been constant media chatter -- some of it so constant, it's almost absurd -- about the Speedo LZR swimsuits over the last six months and whether they're tantamount to technological doping. Why else are all these world records falling, the media keeps asking.

What that overlooks, in part, is the evolution of swimmers' bodies. Michael Phelps has an enormous wingspan, huge hands and feet, double joints, and almost no rear end. In the water, he's shaped like a rowing scull. Swimmers simply weren't shaped that way 15 and 20 years ago, the way that golfers didn't have 14-inch biceps and a six pack like Tiger Woods. When you combine that with the science of modern training, both in the weight room and at the dinner table, what you're seeing is new frontiers of sport.  

It's interesting too the way Phelps has shaped his public persona in a similar manner to Woods. Both athletes are guarded about their personal lives, and choose their words carefully with every news conference. He's not boring, he's just never controversial. I listened yesterday for an hour as Olympic swimmer Gary Hall held court with a throng of media, offering controversial and candid opinions on everything from drug use and drug testing to why politics shouldn't be a part of the Olympics.

In 100 years, I can never imagine Phelps speaking that candidly. That's not a knock on Phelps, it's just a reality. He has sponsorships to protect and an entire sport to promote. He and his advisers -- much like Woods -- have clearly decided that it's not in his best interests to rock the boat. That may frustrate swimmers like Hall, who would clearly like Phelps to speak his mind more often, but it's simply not Phelps' style.

Woods brought golf the the masses, at least for awhile, igniting interest outside the country club set, and it's possibly we're seeing some of that with Phelps as well. Swimming in the United States may never reach the heights that is has in Australia, where athletes like Ian Thorpe, Grant Hackett, Libby Lenton, and Leisel Jones are national celebrities who regularly show up in the tabloids that are Australia's equivalent of US Weekly. (Thorpe's sexuality is a matter of constant debate in his home country; every few months he politely denies rumors that he's gay.) But swimming may rise above the level of fringe sports thanks to Phelps.

After his Olympic performance four years ago, he popped up on MTV's Total Request Live and made multiple appearances on the Tonight Show. When he won seven gold medals at the FINA World Championships last year in Australia, his feat was the subject of nightly debate on ESPN's SportsCenter and Pardon the Interruption, despite the fact that there was no television coverage of the event. As the Olympics approach, Americans will see more commercials of Phelps than they will of Woods. Like it or not, he'll be a fixture in the homes of anyone who watches NBC and doesn't have a DVR (to zip through the ads).

Most baffling of all, Phelps just turned 23. Today is his birthday.

Despite all that's already happened to enhance his legend, we may be closer to the beginning than we are the end.

AP photo

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 12:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

You'll probably be hearing more and more about swimmer Michael Phelps from me in the coming weeks, because on Sunday, the U.S. Olympic swim trials begin in Omaha, Neb., and I'll be poolside for every minute of it. Regardless of what Americans think of swimming -- it's probably never going to get the kind of love it gets in Europe in Australia, where swimmers are huge celebrities and tabloid mainstays -- there is no denying that Phelps is a fascinating athlete for a hundred different reasons. One of the most jaw dropping, however, is the way his body processes energy. Phelps has been told he needs to consume somewhere between 8,000 and 10,000 calories a day just to help him recover from the intense workouts he puts in twice a day, and until you've seen it, it's hard to believe. I saw a little bit of it up close during a brief trip to Ann Arbor, Mich., when we had dinner at his favorite deli, Maze N Blue. Phelps plowed through a huge turkey sandwich while I was still forcing down the first half of mine.

It reminded me of that classic Simpson's episode "New Kid on the Block" (written by Conan O'Brien) where Homer sues Captain Horatio McCallister for false advertising after he's kicked out of McCallister's all-you-can-eat seafood restaurant even though he's still hungry.

Lionel Hutz's cross examination of Marge while she's on the witness stand includes one of my favorite exchanges in the show's 20-year-history:

Hutz: Now, Mrs. Simpson, tell the court in your own words what happened after you and your husband were ejected out of the restaurant.

Marge: Well, we pretty much went straight home.

Hutz: Mrs. Simpson, may I remind you that you are under oath.

Marge: We drove around until three in the morning looking for another open all-you-can-eat seafood restaurant.

Hutz: And when you couldn't find one?

Marge: [crying] We... went... fishing.

Hutz: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do these sound like the actions of a man whose had ALL he could eat?

As Captain McCallister might have said of Phelps, "'Tis no man. 'Tis a remorseless eatin' machine!"

You can catch a little snippet of what Phelps' diet is like here on this NBC promo. The network is broadcasting the trials live next week, and you can read plenty about Phelps and Katie Hoff from me and Sun reporter Candus Thomson in the pages of The Sun.

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 12:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

In all likelihood, the pitching career of Curtis Montague "Curt" Schilling came to an end this week, and even though his time in an Orioles uniform (1988-90) was completely forgettable, Schilling's career with the Phillies, Diamondbacks and Red Sox will certainly be remembered as anything but. Schilling, 41, elected to undergo season-ending shoulder surgery because he's been unable to throw without pain for quite some time, and though he is reluctant to call it a career, Schilling admitted on his blog yesterday that a comeback at his age will be, at best, a long shot.

Whether you loved him or whether you wanted to stuff a rosin bag in his mouth (and over the years, I experienced both emotions), you can't deny that Schilling will easily go down as one of the most interesting and compelling athletes of his time.

Few superstars have ever had their id and their superego in such constant conflict as Curt Schilling did throughout his career. Schilling was a warrior on the mound, a competitive and ruthless fighter who could paint the corners of the strike zone and fire a fastball at your chin if the need arose. His desire to whip your butt was almost primal. He wanted the ball in big moments, and he also wanted the credit when he pitched well. He suffered on the mound, famously pitching through the pain of ankle surgery in Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS, and he wanted you to know just how much he was suffering. At the same time, his superego was constantly trying to hold those desires in check, and the result made him come across -- as Holden Caufield might say -- as a total phony at times.

Every great athlete (just like every great writer) yearns to be praised for his or her gifts. It is their egos, often, that make them such intense competitors who refuse to accept failure. But Schilling never quite figured out to genuinely mask his primal desire (a desire we all feel) to be loved and praised with baseball's expectations and its unwritten code that he remain the humble teammate who was just one part of a larger machine. Curt Schilling was the rare athlete who could be both arrogant and needy, a person who loved the spotlight, yet desperately wanted to seem the humble everyman. None of that made Schilling a bad person; in fact, in my eyes, it made him so much more human.

These conflicting desires experienced their greatest tug-of-war thanks to that famous bloody sock in 2004 at Yankee Stadium, when Schilling pitched one of the most memorable games in postseason history. I have absolutely zero doubt in my mind that Schilling was hurting that night, that he summoned something deep within himself as he gritted his teeth through six innings of bloody work. But he also wanted you to know just how heroic his performance was (while at the same time downplaying it) which caused a few media types (including one from this paper, former columnist Laura Vecsey) to suggest that maybe it wasn't blood after all. Maybe Schilling took a marker and drew a little "blood" on his sock. 

Those theories always struck me as idiotic and irresponsible, both then and now. But the fact that they survived -- and were revived by Orioles broadcaster Gary Thorne as late as last year -- says something about how plenty of people view Schilling, fairly or unfairly. Were he and Randy Johnson really the best of pals in Arizona, or was it all just a good story that was manufactured by both Schilling and the media? Did his former manager really give him the nickname "Red Light Curt" for the way he posed for cameras at the top of the dugout during games? And wasn't it a little bit tacky the way he shamelessly put a towel over his head every time Mitch Williams was pitching in the 1993 World Series, as if to say "Even I can't watch this guy screw up again!" 

The reality of Curt Schilling was constantly fighting with the man Curt Schilling wanted us to see him as. This was never more true than when he testified in front of Congress on the steroids issue. On talk radio, Schilling was more than happy to present himself as the lone maverick who was willing to stand up and speak out against steroid use in baseball. In front of Congress, though, faced with the reality and repercussions that result when one makes such bold claims (without facts) turned him into a church mouse.

But really, when you think about it, did any of that even matter? He raised an incredible amount of money for Lou Gehrig's Disease, and if a cure is ever found, it will save thousands of lives. And whatever you thought about him as a person, there is no denying that he is one of the best postseason pitchers of all time. Isn't that how he should ultimately be remembered?

Was fascinates me the most is what, in many respects, Schilling represents in terms of how the modern athlete is going to deal with the media. He's the future.

A good writer who wasn't shy about technology, Schilling figured out a long time ago that the best way to get his message across wasn't to give interviews and hope that writers played up his strengths and ignored his flaws. It was to take his message straight to the people through his blog, 38Pitches.com. He not only broke news there (albeit through his own filter) he took on the role of media critic, shooting down reports of division in the Red Sox clubhouse and calling out specific writers for what he viewed as shoddy journalism (and in truth, he often made accurate points with his analysis). He might very well read this post and call me a jerk, as is his absolute right.

"If you haven’t figured it out by now, working in the media is a pretty nice gig," Schilling once wrote. "Barring outright plagiarism or committing a crime, you don’t have to be accountable if you don’t want to."

Some of that is probably true, although Schilling might not be the best messenger. The reality, though, is that working in the media has become increasingly difficult. Athletes no longer see members of the press -- even the good ones -- as an extension of the fans, instead choosing to view them as adversaries. I often tell people the best way to understand the definition of humility is to watch me beg a 19-year-old millionaire for two minutes of his time so I can scribble down his monotone mumbling and try to offer it up as some kind of insight for my readers. Like politicians, the athletes aren't really interested that the reader gets to see a true picture of them, just their spin on the truth.

I'm going to miss Schilling though. It's a shame he didn't figure out how to pitch while he was still an Oriole. He was never dull, and he was often insightful. He kept the media on its toes.

He was such a Freudian character; conflicted, like all of us, in what he wanted. It didn't matter to me whether the blood on his sock was real or fake because I knew he bled, just like I did. I could see just how beautifully gifted, flawed, and human, he really was in everything he did.  

PHOTO: AP 

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 1:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

For the next week, The Life of Kings is taking some much needed vacation time on a tropical island, and the Wife of Kings says no blogging will be allowed while we're dipping our toes in the ocean blue and drinking drinks that cost 7 Euros each. I'm not sure how I'm going to watch the NBA Finals, if I watch them at all, but that might be a good thing if Kobe Bryant continues to look as average as he did in Game 1. Anyway, we'll be back to a more regular blogging schedule a week from now, and I might just see what foolish ways I can punish my body for your entertainment.

Cheers, and have a good week.

Kevin 

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 2:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

If Big Brown gets upset Saturday at the Belmont Stakes, we'll have gone 30 years without a Triple Crown winner in horse racing.

A lot of great horses have already fallen short, sometimes by little more than a nose or head bob, and the sentiment seems to be that it's time for the drought to be over. The world is rooting for Big Brown, the same way they were rooting for Smarty Jones a few years ago. Horse racing needs this, we keep hearing. If Big Brown can't do it, then maybe it simply can't be done anymore. Three races of varying lengths in the summer heat might be too much to ask from a horse over the course of six weeks. Maybe we need more rest, a longer break in between the Derby and the Preakness. Maybe modern breeding techniques put too much stress on the bodies of horses. Maybe it's just not going to happen as long as we have distance specialists, like Casino Drive. 

What we forget, in all that thinking, is that real transcendence in sports is supposed to be hard. It's not necessarily a bad thing that we've gone 29 years without a Triple Crown winner. In fact, you can argue that it's going to be that much more special if it does happen Saturday specifically because it's taken so long for a horse to repeat Affirmed's 1978 feat.

People throw around the phrase "records are meant to be broken" so often these days that it's become a nauseating cliché. When we think that way, we don't end up appreciating records as much as we end up expecting them.

Take Tiger Woods, for instance. In 2000, he accomplished one of the most amazing feats in the history of sport, winning four consecutive majors. Woods is so talented, we forget how truly difficult that was to accomplish. Now, each time Woods wins a major championship, it reignites talk of the Grand Slam. We never take into account how much went right for Woods in 2000, how dialed in he was with the putter, and how each of the courses that year (Pebble Beach, St. Andrews, Valhalla and Augusta National) played to his strengths. He wasn't just playing his best golf, everyone else around him seemed to be unable to summon theirs. He had zero distractions, and off-the-charts focus. Now, we not only want to see him win every major championship, we expect it. He did it in 2000, right? Why can't he do it again?

Well, because it's hard. One tiny pebble, one bad read, one red-hot round by a hungry and fearless opponent, and Woods' quest is foiled, just like Big Brown's could be. And that's the way it should be. You not only have to be talented to pull off one of the greatest feats in sports, the stars have to align as well.

This kind of thinking happens in other sports, too. In many respects, our desire to see Roger Maris' home run record fall clearly made us ignore the obvious signs of just how prevalent steroids were in baseball in the late 1990s. We wanted to see records fall, and we wanted to see them fall each year. Michael Phelps may never equal his performance at the 2007 FINA World Championships in Melbourne, when he won seven gold medals and set four world records, but that's what people have come to expect each time he dives into the pool.

Big Brown has a shot at history at Belmont, but if it doesn't happen, that's ok, too. Because someday, a horse will come along and win the Triple Crown. And maybe someday a golfer will win four majors in a calendar year, and a clean slugger will hit 62 home runs in a single season. And when that happens, we'll know it's special. We'll know it was worth the wait.

Photo: AP

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 3:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

Here is the follow up to yesterday's post that featured me attempting to learn how to swim the butterfly with the help of the fine folks from ChloriNation. If you missed the first installment and can stomach the idea of me wearing a Speedo, you can check it out here. What I didn't remember until after I posted this was that my mom was actually an accomplished swimmer back in Montana, and her specialty was the 50 meter fly. So clearly there is talent in my genes. All I need is the dedication, and a change in diet that would help me drop about 75 pounds. After giving it some thought, I decided I kind of enjoy putting my body through various states of pain and shame for the sake of reader entertainment as well as journalism. Earlier this week, I caddied for LPGA player Leta Lindley during the Monday ProAm at Bulle Rock, and had a lot of fun, mostly because Leta and her husband Matt were such good people. While I doubt the Ravens would be open to the idea of letting me get tackled by Ray Lewis or Bart Scott -- my wife might object to this as well -- I'm open to ideas. Got something you'd like to see me try next? Fairly certain I won't be killed? Make a suggestion below. In the meantime, watch this video and see what Katie Hoff's coach, Paul Yetter, has to say about how he would approach the enviable task of coaching me.

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 2:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

As a sportswriter, I've always been a big believer that we should, whenever possible, attempt to do as well as observe. George Plimpton might be the most famous practitioner of this philosophy. Plimpton did just about everything he could to try and understand what makes athletes tick and just how hard it is to perform at an elite level. He sparred with Archie Moore and Sugar Ray Robinson while on assignment for Sports Illustrated. He wrote a book (Paper Lion) about playing quarterback for the Detroit Lions during training camp. He pitched against major league baseball players, got run off the court by tennis player Pancho Gonzalez and even tried to play professional golf in the 1950s.

As far as I know, though, Plimpton never tried to learn how to swim one of the hardest swimming strokes there is: The butterfly. Which brings us to me.

One of my many jobs at The Sun is Olympic swimming coverage. I've followed Michael Phelps and Katie Hoff around the world and back again over the last two years, and in August, I'll follow them to Beijing as they try to make history. Earlier this year, I was talking to Phelps poolside in Columbus, Ohio, trying to gain some insight into just how hard it is to swim the butterfly. It's something Phelps does with more grace and power than any man who has ever lived. Phelps did his best to explain what makes a great butterfly swimmer, but when we wrapped up, a man named Scott Goldblatt pulled me aside and asked if I really wanted to find out. Goldblatt is one of the gurus behind Swimnetwork.com, which is one of the go-to places in the swimming world for everything from coaching tips to good humor. Would I be willing to let a couple of his guys from the show ChloriNation attempt to teach the stroke, and then use it as an episode for their show?

For some reason, I agreed to this foolish endeavor, and am going to attempt to write about it in the pages of The Sun as we get closer to the Olympics. But you can check out the version ChloriNation posted recently if you can stomach the scary sight of me in a Speedo. I tried to play the whole thing for laughs, channeling, say, Will Ferrell in Blades of Glory or Semi-Pro, but I'll let you be the judge of how it turned out.

I'd like to think the spirit of Plimpton was inside me that day, but really, I think it was just nerves and a lot of Yuengling. I was plenty nervous the night before, certain that my bloated frame would be mocked in ever dark corner of the internet, so my friend Gerry Fey and I drank several beers while we contemplated whether or not I would drown. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best preparation. But in the end, it was a worthwhile experience. A big thank you to the ChloriNation guys, Chris and Mike, for being kind in their video edits.

Katie Hoff, after catching the tail end of my pathetic adventure, mentioned that I might try the backstroke instead. More surface area with which to float on top of the water, she said, in the kindest way possible.

Maybe. But I suspect, even if I manage to shed a few pounds, I'm better off, pen in hand, attempting to describe the athletic brilliance of Phelps and Hoff from the safe confines of solid ground.

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 12:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)
                    

Mariah Carey might be, in this moment, one of the most divisive "hot" celebrities of our time. I know a handful of gentlemen who think she is one of the sexiest women alive, and I know plenty of others who think she looks like the hottest mom you'd find at the Newark mall sitting outside an Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Either way, as one of our favorite blogs, Big League Stew points out today, one thing we can all agree on is that she threw perhaps the worst first pitch in the history of celebrity first pitches last night at a Japanese baseball game. Clearly the Japanese camera man thinks she's still got it, judging by the long look he takes at her legs. But mercy, was that pitch bad. Even Steve Trachsel still has the right to make fun of Carey for this. For now.

Final thought: At what point does Mariah Carey decide that her jorts are no longer age appropriate?

UPDATE: My buddy Rick Maese and his friend KDuk, who is the man behind Big League Stew, have tossed out a question of utmost importance. How exactly do we define "jorts?" Says Maese: My man KDuk insists jorts must come down to the knee to qualify. I'd always thought that jorts were simply denim and shorts. I guess it really makes me wonder whether jorts are limited to men. ... Is what women wear ever classifiable as jorts? And if a woman wears denim shorts that stretch to her knees, is she really a woman?

Wikipedia doesn't really know the answer either. I'm at a loss. I wish I had Tim Tebow's number so I could get him to settle this once and for all.

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 2:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)