Showing posts with label losing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label losing. Show all posts

Friday, February 27, 2009

R.I.P? No, wait...

Wow. Some realness went down this week… Well not this first part, so feel free to skip the next bit if you’re not feelin’ it. But later.

First off, we had a game in St. Raphael on the Med coast and it was maybe the single most ridiculous volleyball game I have ever been a part of. I don’t even want to revisit the sad event but suffice it to say that good competition doesn’t take place when both teams are trying to lose. To get all poetic on y’all, the essence of sport is lost. So why were we wanting to lose?

Well there are 2 major leagues/competitions here, the French Championship and the Coupe de France. If you finish in the top 4-5 places in the Championship, your team earns a bid for the following season in the Champion’s League or one of the 2 European cups. For example, we finished 3rd last year in the Championship, hence the journeyings to Romania, Italy, etc. this year. Anyway, this is all pretty important and prestigious and basically everyone competes in their country’s leagues for this chance.

Anyway, since you don’t earn a berth by winning the Coupe - and since Cannes, the top team in the French league has won every year since about 1904 - everyone figures there’s no point in spending more precious club bills to make the trip to wherever each round is played. So somehow this works out to, “let’s go to the first round and hopefully lose so we don’t have to advance” or something of the sort. We went with 5 players and a player with a torn ab, so we were fit to put up a good fight. We played the drawers off that game and (successfully?) lost. That’s about all the reminiscing I need to do about that. Not too sure why I wrote all that out now. Apologies.

Anyway I was less than pleased with the whole experience but when we got home Saturday afternoon, I realized that other than Christmas break, for the first time since September we had a Saturday evening off. The American and I located some tickets to the local pro rugby game and went in for round 2 of spectating. For the record, I still only understand approximately 50% of what’s going on.

I was late to the game but apparently before it got underway, the locals had a minute of silence for an older gentleman that used to play for the team and was a member of the club (or something like that) who had passed away. Please just take a sec to picture the scene with me y’all – some club official gets on the mic, gives some sort of tribute, and fond memories are quietly recalled during the minute of silence while the crowd of 10,000 strong remembers a lost friend… People are sad. Some people are also pretty shocked for reasons to become apparent.

Now fast forward to Monday - it comes out that this guy is not in fact, dead... Yeeeah.

Dude was ON VACATION.

Oh. Snap.

So ya screwed up...

Yeah I know y’all are sittin there, minds blown like, Say whaaaaaaat. Bahaha. And please believe, I couldn’t, heck, I wouldn’t make that up. Word on the street is there was an apology to the family in the local paper and such but ya can’t really take that one back too easily… Either way, that’s the way to get a warm welcome home after a nice holiday. On the bad side, the day this guy’s time actually comes, nobody’s gonna know to believe it or not. Took me a sec to process all that ridiculousness in one sitting, but try as I might I can’t even really begin to figure how someone just jumped to the conclusion they did. He missed the local bridge club meeting last week so he couldn’t be anything but automatically just dead, straight up…? And then they go ahead and even organize some public tribute without, I dunno, checking with the wife and kids? Pretty funny. More unbelievable.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I Dunk, Therefore I am


So I just got back from a little trip to Italy on Friday night. Started in Albi, mini-bused it to Barcelona and then flew to Rome and some other Italian city next to Jesi where we played. "France to Italy via... Spain?", you say. Sounds like a logical way to travel. Go west to get east my son!

As predicted we got pretty much owned in 3. I believe the scores were 25-14, 25-20, 25-19 and though we played well, they played better. A lot better. Actually it didn't go as bad as I thought it might so thanks for the prayers on our behalf. No noses were broken and other than a few egos, we got out unharmed. Unfortunately as soon as the game ended, I realized we get to recreate the drama a week later when they come to our house for the rematch next wednesday. All we have to do is beat them in 3 at home and then win a sudden-death "golden set" to take the series...

We played this...


In a word, we're about to be eliminated. And sadly, that means my days of gallavanting across (predominantly eastern) Europe are soon to be over... Pour out a little liquor of your beverage of choice for me.

Side note - back in France, we won yesterday in a record quickness of 1 hr 13 mins vs. the last team in the league. I'll take it.

Also, in keeping with the _______ of ______ album theme (see: "Hats of Romania" post for that reference to make any kind of sense), The American and I almost did an "Artwork of France's Neighbors" album on this trip since we saw some pretty clutch paintings in the hotel and truckstop restaurant throughout our travels... But the title didn't quite have the right ring to it.

Selections would've included a vivid watercolour of hot pink and red wild horses and a still-life of a lobster on a telephone. Not talking on it (that would be a reasonable artist's depiction) but sitting on the phone. Unfortunately we never got around to taking pictures of pictures, or of anything else much for that matter, so this post is conspicuously low on photos... Our bad. Either way, obviously I've been deeply moved since I'm for some reason writing about these paintings and though I don't know who's painting them - keep doin' your thing. I'd try to speculate what the deeper meaning or message behind the art could've been but it will only end badly in puns or stupid metaphors so we'll move on...

I was watching the NBA dunk contest this fine Sunday afternoon, a mere 12 hours late because of the unfortunateness of time zones and my need to sleep at night. And dayum, I wasn't too impressed. Other than ridiculously bad commentating and someone (not naming names, DWIGHT HOWARD...) attempting the oft attempted and boring dunk-from-the-foul-line, it was underwhelming. Nate Robinson, the 5'9" phenom, took the title with less-than exciting displays of physical freakishness. Here's to hoping Lebron does it up right next year.

Re-reading that paragraph, I realize nothing I just wrote really makes sense, so scratch all that. It just wasn't good. For any of you who missed out, this play-by-play was a lot more entertaining. Dude said it right:

"And he dunks the ball into the hoop, and people are ecstatic. Also, keep in mind ... same gag as last year. NBA: Where Creativity Happens."