I heart the Olympics. Especially the summer Olympics. Swimming, gymnastics, beach volleyball, synchronized swimming, soccer, diving, water polo and the completely quizzical rhythmic gymnastics... yes, bring it on. These are sports that I love to watch and that are often hard to come by unless it is the blessed 4-year mark of the Olympics. Woo. Hoo.My all-time favorite athlete (the type where you Google News his name to see if anything of note has been going on lately) had the audacity to retire last year. In his early twenties. My allegiance will now have to shift from Ian Thorpe to Michael Phelps. We all must come to terms with it; we all must continue on with our lives. The Thorpedo would want it that way.
And in following Ian's spirit of always moving forward and trying something new... Teen and I have spent a couple of sunny days at the beach recently with a volleyball. Turns out, the tablespoon-full of skill I acquired back on the seventh grade team of wusses who ran from the ball has been completely diluted over time. After our first go at it, I had sand in crevices I never knew existed and my arms were so horrendously bruised that for a week after I could see strangers fighting back the urge to encourage me to get out of that abusive relationship. You can teach an old gal new tricks though, and we're going to keep getting better... because it's summer and we belong at the beach... plus, the sight of the other one flopping into the sand never fails to entertain, meaning we keep going back for more.
This last weekend we slathered on the sunscreen and headed for the AVP Tour in Hermosa Beach. We were ready to watch the pros in action...ready to be inspired...ready to see some real, live Ken Dolls soar through the air to spike the ball over the net in the manliest of fashions. Happily all of those pre-set hopes came to fruition, and even better, the team that had me glued to the TV in 2004 with my eyes inexplicably welling up with tears was also there for my viewing pleasure.
Yes, when Teen and I bought tickets for the women's semi-finals and finals, we had no idea that the gold medal winners from Athens would be there. Kerri Walsh and Misty May Treanor pretty much put the rest to shame. Trying to compare them to Teen and me... well... imagine a baby giraffe strapped into roller skates versus a cheetah charging across the Serengeti. It's worse than that.
Good thing we weren't trying to compete, but instead were just spending a gorgeous day being fans. Fans who wished that the shirtless foreign wankers in front of us would stop using their uber-zoom lens to take pictures of the silicon-injected Corona girls on the sidelines...
Olympic fever is on the rise. Are you ready?
1 comment:
I keep hearing on the radio about the pro beach volleyball something-er-other coming to Chicago in July. And because the people of Chicago believe with their whole hearts that the sandy "beaches" along Lake Michigan are actually the ocean, I know it's going to be packed and fun. I brought it up to my sister last week and was met with a "so what?" But after seeing your pics, I may just take a walk on over there by myself when they come. I should do it for my 7th grade spring-break self who played a totally pathetic, but totally awesome, version of beach volleyball with a bunch of pre-teen strangers in St. Thomas every day for a week.
(Btw, LOVING, LOV-ING, the multiple new posts. Weeee!!!!)
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