10S N E 1?

I learned to play tennis as an adult and for several decades I enjoyed the sport as an active participant. About midway in that run I took an interest in watching professional tennis, mostly via the tube since opportunities to attend a venue in person were limited.

I enjoyed the tv experiences, Court, Borg, Evert, McEnroe, Navratilova, Lendl, Goolagong, Agassi, enough names to give you the idea.  Anyway, when the participants started audibly grunting and groaning my interest faded.  I thought they were unnecessarily showboating, and the protracted scream following the grunt reinforced my notion.

I have learned something.  When I attempt to rise from the ground, or sometimes even from sitting in a chair, my effort is accompanied by an involuntary and quite audible vocal noise.  It is due to the effort expended and the pain accompanying same, you see.  Thus, I now realize that the tennis players are exerting so much effort that the vocal noise is emitted unbidden.

I never exerted that much effort on the tennis court.  Yet were I to return to watching the game on tv, I should have to do it only with full mute.  And, of course, there is zero chance that I would ever again step onto the court with racquet in hand.

Son Mark and his wife Patty are tennis instructors, aficionados, rabid fans.  Today is their wedding anniversary, 38th I believe.  Happy anniversary, Kids.

Elgin Baylor

Born September 16, 1934 in Washington, D.C., Elgin Baylor was perhaps the greatest small forward (6'5") ever to play in the NBA.

I was a student at Seattle Pacific during the time Baylor played for Seattle University.  I saw him play NCAA ball.  Did not see him as a pro where his career extended into his late seventies as management employee.

I post this honoring his achievements on the occasion of his eightieth birthday.  Much has been written about his career. For those who are basketball fans, look it up.

Happy birthday, Mr. Baylor!

Motorsport

Indianapolis Motor Speedway

before its opening in 1909.

One hundred five years ago today, the first race was held at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  Over three days of racing, a driver, two mechanics, and two spectators gave their lives for motorsport.

The first "500" was run on May 30, 1911.

. . . Sixty Years Ago Today

It was the sixth day of May, 1954.  The race was a one-mile run.  The announcer proclaimed, "The time was three..." and the rest of his announcement was drowned out by the roar of the crowd.  The time was three minutes, fifty-nine point four seconds.  Roger Bannister had just become the first person to officially run a mile in under four minutes.*

As a young man, I had often heard of "the four minute barrier."  Bannister clearly proved that not only records, but barriers are to be broken.  Sport has moved on.  No one runs miles these days; they run "kays."  I have no idea what the current record is for the so-called "metric mile."**  Nor do I know who holds that record, but Roger Bannister is a name that will live in my mind so long as my mind functions.

Bannister himself, by his own word, does not consider this accomplishment to be his greatest achievement.  He is a medical doctor by profession, and he counts his research into the responses of the human nervous system to be his highest work.

 Dr. Bannister still lives in his native England.  Sir Roger is 85 years of age.  He has been diagnosed with Parkinson's.

*Bannister's record held only 46 days.  It was broken by John Landy.  However in the 1954 Commonwealth games, Landy and Bannister went up against each other in the mile.  Bannister took the gold in 3:58.8, Landy the silver in 3:59.6.  And that was Sir Roger's proudest sports moment.

**Actually, a "metric mile" would approximate 1.6k, and I am not sure that that is even an "event" in track and field.  Perhaps they run 1.5k.  I have not much followed the sport since everything changed.

Joke:  Did you hear the one about the marathon runner who told the proud 5k runner, "Your 5k is my cool-down."?

Misapplication of Technology

I was awake until the wee hours last night, literally, watching the Kentucky-Louisville basketball game along with a few hundred other people.  I do not often watch sports events on television, though at one time in my life I was a serious fan of college basketball.  Things change.  I have changed: I am much older now, and time is precious.  One can only do so much, and the older I get, the less I do.  That is not what this rant is about.

The game itself has changed.  From the early days of my interest in the sport, that would have been in the mid-20th century, Clyde, and Wes, and "Hooks" played a game we knew as basketball.  They loved the game, and so did we, the fans.  Today's game resembles that game in its rudiments:  the court, the ball, and that's about it.  But that is not what this rant is about, either.

I did have a favorite in this game, but that is irrelevant to the rant as well.

Last night's game, poorly executed or brilliantly played as it was, came down to a handful of seconds on the clock with either team in a position to win it.  That is what the game should be!  But wait.  And wait.  The referee made his call, awarding the out-of-bounds ball to Louisville.  But then.  And this is what the rant is about.

For the next seven minutes, the officials reviewed the play via television monitors to determine if the call were correct.  Meanwhile, the network showed the audience at home the disputed play over and over and over and so on and so forth.  (The call on the floor was upheld.)  Before this sort of nonsensical interference in the game, the official would have immediately handed the ball to the player for the inbounds play, and the game would have proceeded.

Look.  Basketball officials are people who are extremely knowledgeable about the game, highly motivated to make good calls, and above all desirous of seeing a good game well and properly played.  Do officials ever make mistakes?  Of course.  But darned few, as a matter of fact.  Is one official likely to call a "tighter" game than another?  Indeed.  But they are not bad officials (those are weeded out long before we get to the Sweet Sixteen, or to March Madness, for that matter.)

And there is another thing that has changed.  During the years of my fandom, the referee was both the instant and final arbiter on the court.  One may disagree with him, but the game is played by the call he made.  As it should be.  Stop the nonsense.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

10 S, N E 1?

Houston, Texas
September 20, 1973  (Can you believe it was forty years ago?)

Billie Jean King defeats Bobby Riggs in three straight sets to win the "Battle of the Sexes."

Much nonsense has been written about the match in the intervening years; many arguments have been had, including one I had as recently as this summer.

Ms. King won, fair and square, end of story (period)

Super Bowl XL-something something

Super Bowl Sunday. I could easily ignore this strictly American phenomenon and pass on the game without a mention. I am not an avid sports fan, although I do enjoy watching a well-played game on occasion. I grew up in an era when baseball was The Great American Sport. In many ways, baseball is still the greatest sport played in this country, but it is clear that football has supplanted it as King of Sports in America.

The spectacle that a very high percentage of people in this country will find themselves united in watching this evening is grandiose beyond description. Every facet of the broadcast from the introduction, through the game itself, the half-time gala, and the presentation of the spoils of war at the finale will be over the top. It is so designed. The intent of all who planned and all who participate is to assault our eyes and ears with stimuli above and beyond.

Yet even as we are politically divided as a nation, we will be a divided unity, so to speak, in support of the heroes of the turf. For no game can be played without the taking of sides. I surprised myself a few minutes ago in talking with my brother-in-law, for it seems that I do know who the opponents shall be tonight. It isn’t that I really care, but rather a fact of life. Our fixation on sports and the “heroes” who engage therein is such that we are flooded with information that we often do not seek.

Paul wrote, “Don’t you know that they which run in a race run all, but one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain.” (I Corinthians 9:24) And so it is with this spectacle, for even during the pre-season last summer, every team in the NFL had its eye set on the prize. And yet, this evening, but one of them will be crowned Champion of the World.

And again, an admonition that we are given to apply in our spiritual life, may apply to the combatants in this final football showdown of the year. “Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1) To each team, set aside every impediment and play patiently. (Oh, yes, I know that there are fans for whom razzle-dazzle and showmanship trumps patience and hard work, but that is not the winning way.)

Paul also told us (one of my favorite scriptures) “Physical exercise profits little.” (I Timothy 4:8) Okay, perhaps with the exception of the hard work it takes for the gladiators whose goal it is to win a championship. Yet the crux of the matter is contained in the rest of the verse, which says, “But godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is and of that which is to come.” So in the combining of physical exercise with godliness we all may find gain.

Good luck, football players; happy times, football fans. Have a great evening. I’ll probably be watching a movie.