Category Archives: Sports

You can’t always be what you want–but that’s okay

A question, Confession, Musings, Olympics, Sports, Stuff, , , , , ,

To paraphrase a Stones’ favorite, you can’t always be what you want.  I’m sorry but the imagesidea that one can be anything one wants if one just tries hard enough is just no true or realistic.  Perhaps we need to rethink this.

I love figure skating.  I watched the nationals all last weekend.  One of the skaters said, “Everyone should figure skate,” and that reminded me why I don’t.  Why, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never, ever be a figure skaters.

imagesA friend and I took lessons when we were young, back when Kansas City still had an ice rink.  My friend did very well, being promoted week after week to higher level classes, learning to twirl and do elementary jumps.  Meanwhile, I didn’t.  I continued to slog around the ice and I couldn’t figure out why I was stuck in the beginners class.  I followed directions.  I did everything the instructor said.  I worked hard in the hope of being able to fly over the ice in a graceful position but never looked like the picture on the left.

Many years later, I discovered my problem, why I was doomed to remain forever in the beginners class:  I have terrible joints.  My ankles were so weak I couldn’t straighten them.  They bent inward which made me more of an on-your-ankles skater instead than a figure skater.  Actually, I skated both on my ankles and on the edges of the blades, lumbering along, trying so hard to do better and never succeeding.  No, never.

And this is why I know that, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be a figure skater. Not even with the best coach in the world, I won’t.

There are people who tell children, “You can be whatever you want to be if you try hard enough.”  Well, no, they can’t and it’s mean to tell anyone such a completely ridiculous and untrue statement.  No mater how hard I try, I’ll never be a figure skater unless the federation puts in a new category to fit my style of skating.  And I’ll never represent my country in any sport in an international athletic  competition.  Those of you who know me recognize the truth in those words.

Some other realities: 1) No matter how hard she tried, a woman hasn’t been able to imagesbecome president. Shirley Chisholm can attest to that.

2) Until 2008, no matter how hard a black man tried, he couldn’t be elected president either.

3)  No matter how hard I try, I will never be abble to tell the difference between the word “shutter” and “shudder” without checking the dictionary.  Nor can I tell the difference b and a  d  when I’m spelling even though all my teachers told me if I tried hard, I could do that.  I am dyslexic.  Some things are mentally impossible for me.

My point is that people do not succeed in every effort and need to know that’s not the endimagesof the world. Kids, especially, need to understand this.  I awakened to this new truth many years ago after reading a magazine article.  The thesis of the article was that a spider could not make a lemon meringue pie no matter how hard that spider tried.

I am not espousing the opposite point of view that no matter how much you try, you’re going to fail. That’s really depressing.

Could we come to a middle point?  Perhaps “If you want something, work hard because you’re not going to get it if you don’t try but you many not succeed and that’s okay.”  Long and unwieldy, I know.  Maybe you could help me phrase this in a jazzier, more interesting way.

imagesAnd maybe we can stop filling children’s heads with the thought a thin boy’s going to be a heavy-weight boxer if he tries hard enough or a girl will play center for the Louisville Cardinal’s men’s basketball team.  There are other goals, good goals.  Any thoughts on this?  I’d love to hear them.

Beating the Holiday Blues by Diane Perrine Coon

Holidays, Pets, Reading, Sports, University of Louisville, , , , ,

Today my marvelous sister-in-law, Diane Perrine Coon, shares remedies for Holiday Blues.

imagesWhen you’re sick over the holidays and still trying to cook meals and your head’s all stuffed up and you really don’t plan to make it to midnight and celebrate the New Year because all you are doing is coughing up mucus, then you have the Holiday Blues.

Here are my suggestions of how to ward off the Holiday Blues.

  1. Share your misery with the first person on your phone callback button, especially if they are trying to sell you something.
  2. Wander in and out of the bathroom looking for something, anything, everything because you can’t remember what it was you thought you needed.images
  3. Watch college basketball and if it gets too much, watch NBA basketball. Do not watch football, there are too many players on the field and you will get mixed up.
  4. Wrap up in a sweater, a coverlet, and a quilt over the top off all and then wonder why you feel hot when you don’t have a fever.
  5. Drink fluids – soft drinks, tea, coffee, ice water, fruit juices – and stay real close to the bathroom.
  6. imagesMake the dog go outside by himself. If the dog police come get you, hand them the leash.
  7. Read lots of recipes. Think how long it will take to prepare them, and then discard all of them. But the bright photos showing fabulous meals will brighten up the room.
  8. Play computer games, many of them. Mindless almost fun even when sneezing all over the keyboard.
  9. Send your soul-mate to the liquor store to get Plum Wine. It cures everything and especially the Holiday Blues. Guarantee it.images
  10. Think back to the last time you had a great holiday. Was that twenty years ago?

Get well all of you out there with Holiday Blues.

 

 

About passion

A question, Love, Musings, Sports, Writing,

imagesTed Ligety is one of the best American skiers and an international skiing champion.  In 2006, he won an Olympic gold medal for the combined; 2014, he won another in the giant slalom.  In all, he’s accumulated twenty-three giant slalom world cup wins.   I think I know at least two reasons he’s so very good.

Ligety’s known for his all-out effort, taking the gates close and at an angles to the ground that defy the laws of physics.  As he cuts so close the the gate, he often drops his hand and drags his wrist on the snow around the turns.  November 22, he hit the gate with his left hand.  He’s had bones broken in the hand so often, he designed a glove to protect it.  Didn’t work this time.  He broke his wrist and tore many ligaments.  Four screws were inserted surgically into his hand.  He had to practice without ski poles because he couldn’t hold one in the left hand.  From that, he said, came a positive.  Skiing without a pole helped his balance.

A few weeks later, I watched an event at Birds of Prey.  Ligety had a slow first run–slow for him means he was only tenths of seconds behind the best time.  The announcers suggested that hand could be causing him not to be able to hold and move the ski poles as he usually did.  On the second run, he smoked everyone, even with the mangled hand, and won first place in that event.

How does he do it?  I said there were two reasons.  First, he must have an incredibly high pain threshold.  But I think the main reason is that skiing is what Ted LIgity does.  That’s his focus, his life, his passion.

Most of us don’t have that level of passion and commitment.  I have a friend who wrote a imagesnovel when she was hugely pregnant and had a broken wrist.   I don’t know if I would.  I don’t like pain.

I have no idea of what Ligity’s life is like but most of us have more balance than I assume he has.  As well as what we love to do–which could be being with family, working, cooking or skiing–one of those doesn’t dominate our lives in terms or time and thought and effort.

But I keep coming back to one question: what is important enough in my life that would lead me to hurl myself down a snow-coverd slope at an incredible speed while winding around posts stuck in the snow while facing constantly the threat of terrible falls and broken bones?  I can think of nothing but I admire the man for being so devoted to something so difficult.

I’d like to say I live my faith like this.  I’d die for my faith, but I’m not sure I’d live for it with so much depth and commitment and possible injury.

What is your passion?  Are you as devoted to it as Ligety?

Baseball and my lack of a moral compass

Confession, Family, George, Sports, Uncategorized, , ,

10610469_10152750714193373_7906439356951706763_nI loved baseball all my life–until the strike.

My father loved nearly all sports and started taking me to games when I was three or four.  My family spent cool autumn Saturdays in Lawrence, Kansas, attending University of Kansas games and drove from Kansas City to Lawrence once a week during basketball season to watch the Hawks.

In the summer, we went to Kansas City Blues games–minor league baseball–until the Athletics came.  I even interviewed the manager of the A’s for my high school newspaper.  When the A’s left for California, I became a Royals fan and, because we lived in Hays, Kansas, for five years, we went to several games every summer.  I was in the stands when George Brett was hitting .385.   During tornado warnings–which came weeklin in Western Kansas–we sat in the basement and listened to games.

George’s favorite story was when I was sitting next to two men who were keeping score and arguing about a play and if a player should get an RBI.  I leaned over and said, “The run scored on an error so it was an unearned run and no RBI.”

Then the strike hit in 1994 and  World Series was cancelled.  I was irate.  Furious.  I mean, really, really angry.   I vowed, “If you’re going to take away my World Series, I’m not going to another game.”   I kept that vow for  years.

For years, once a week George would look at the standings in the newspaper and say, “You don’t want me to tell you about the Royals.”   I didn’t ask.

Then, last year, the Royals started doing well and hooked me only to break my heart.  This year, I got interested after the All-Star break although I could only watch games with Texas teams.  Others were blacked out.

And I discovered something terrible about myself.   I had not stopped being a baseball fan due to a moral stand.   I no longer watched baseball because the Royals were a terrible team.  Yes, I have to confess this:  I am a fair-weather fan.  I also want to confess I’m having a lot of fun this post season!

Magical Thinking, Basketball, and Louisville, Kentucky

A question, Celebrating, Church, Musings, Sports, University of Louisville, , , , ,

doomWe sports fans are superstitious.  I’m absolutely certain if I wear my OCTAGON OF DOOM T-shirt Kansas State will win all home basketball games.   I didn’t wear it Saturday and we lost.

My husband believed that if he held our buff cocker spaniel in a certain way, the University of Louisville Cardinals would win.  That was in 1980 when we DID win our first national championship. buff cocker Guess it did work all.

But what this is really is called “magical thinking”, the idea that if I do things exactly this way, I have control over the situation.  It’s magic!

I’m guilty of this which is why, when my sister-in-law Diane called last Wednesday  and said “I’m afraid if I don’t go to the Ash Wednesday services tonight, Uof L will lose the game,”  I believed her.  Yes, the Cards were playing SMU on Ash Wednesday and she feared God would punish her team if she didn’t go to the service.    I didn’t go to services because I don’t drive at night so this was ALL up to Diane.   She hadn’t decided yet if she’d leave as soon as she got the ash cross on her forehead–the Episcopalians have a name for that act but I belong to a far less liturgical church and don’t know what the word is–or stay for the entire service.

Neither of us believe God cares  who wins a basketball game.   We know a final score is is a petty concern in a world filled with hunger and disease,  earthquakes and tsunamis.  And, yet, maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t tempt fate.  That’s superstition not faith.

So, yes, I know God doesn’t guide a basketball through a hoop or cause a turnover.  But when SMU went up 26-12, I leaped to my feet, grabbed a phone, and called to tell her that I blamed her for the lopsided score if she hadn’t gone to the service.

Connecticut v LouisvilleShe wasn’t home.   I left a message.  As I hung up, UofL went on a run and never looked back.  We won easily.   She called me after the game was over and took credit for the win because she’d gone to the entire service   Thank you, Diane!

Do you have a superstition which guarantees your team wins?  Or at least makes you feel as if you have some control?

Why No One Will Ever Confuse Me with Gracie Gold

Olympics, Sports, ,

ice skatesWhen I was six years old, my best friend Linda and I enrolled in figuring skating lessons.  We arrived at the rink for our first lesson, pulled on our new skates, tied the laces, and hit the ice.   We went every Saturday morning for months and about every two weeks, Linda was promoted to higher class and I never left the beginners.  I’d tried so hard.  I followed instructions, I practiced, I pushed myself but never, never moved up to the next level.  I had no idea why not, not until years later when my mother said she always felt terrible for me as I trudged around the ice–but not only on the sharp blades but also on my ankles.  I had–and still have–very weak ankles that couldn’t support me on ice skates.  I skated on two blades and the outsides of my skates.    No way I was going to go up a class when I was “ankling” as much as I was “skating.”

I wish someone had explained it to me.   I wish someone had told me the keep clam and tell the truthtruth.  I wish the instructor had said, ‘Monica Jane, this is probably not the sport for you.”  Or that four-year-old who was quickly moved from beginners had said to me, “Why do you skate funny?”  Or my mother had suggested I not return and given the reason.  I imagine no one wanted to hurt my feelings, but, really, never improving didn’t hurt?

Do you have something you wish some had told you about?  Please share.  It makes me feel so much better.

Me and the Olympics (or, for the grammarphobic like me: The Olympics and I)

Musings, Olympics, Sports,

The first time I had to accept the fact I was growing–oh, no!– older was when I realized  I’d never represent my country in the Olympics.   Not that I have any athletic skills that would have even allowed me to participate snowy mountainin a competition even at the lowest level, but the realization it would never happen hit hard.   Well, not really.  It was one of those moments that reminded me I was no longer eighteen.   In honor of the upcoming Winter Olympics, I thought I’d discuss my brief career as a skier.

In high school, I went on a ski trip to Estes Park.   We stayed in a cheap ski resort which didn’t have chair lifts.  Instead, the lift was like a small garbage-can lid that one put between one’s legs and this–for many of the skier–towed one up to the top of the trail.  Not for me.  This was not friendly to a novice skier who’d had two hours of lessons, then was expected to, more or less, ski uphill.   Every time–every single time–I lost control of the skis, unable to keep them straight in the ruts worn in the snow  And every single time, I fell off the garbage-can lid half way up awk skierthe hill with only one choice:  to walk sideways in those skis I couldn’t control, across the snow and through the trees until I reached the trail.  I’d ski down the trail and start the trek all over.

As frustrating as this was, my best friend had an even worse time.  She stood at the lift station, put the garbage-can lid between her leg.  When the lift pulled her, her skis flew into the air and she fell off on her head after about six inches.   I can’t remember now if she ever got to the top of the hill.

Next week:  how my bad ankles doomed my figure skating career.