Remembering the Joy and the perfect 10

7/25/2006

For as far back as I can remember, I have loved the Olympic Games.

There is nothing quite like the Olympics, where the finest athletes on this amazing globe battle it out for the right to be called the world champion.

There is nothing quite like being the world champion. Since I have always known I stand as much chance of being a world champion as being conked on the head by one of Jupiter’s moons, I have watched, and loved, the Olympic Games.

This month marks the 30th anniversary of Canada’s first Summer Games, when Montreal hosted the event back in 1976.

I wasn’t long out of diapers at the time, but I do remember watching Canadian high jumper Greg Joy win the silver medal. I can still see him clearing that bar in the pouring rain, arms raised and pumping in triumph and joy, like it was yesterday.

I also remember watching a 14-year-old gymnast from Transylvania, named Nadia Comeneci.

Nadia was the first gymnast to score a perfect 10 in Olympic competition. She managed six more 10s, and three gold medals, and I fell in love with her. I told everyone I was going to marry her, until one of Jupiter’s moons nearly hit me on the head, and I realized the odds, again, were stacked against me.

Over 6,000 athletes competed that year, in nearly 200 events, and Canada left with only five silver and six bronze medals. It was the first time in Olympic history that the host country of the Summer Games won no gold medals. Maybe, it was all the rain.

In fact, a rainstorm actually doused the Olympic flame a few days after the Games opened, and an official relit the flame using his cigarette lighter. Organizers quickly doused it again and relit it using a backup of the original flame.

Princess Anne, a member of the United Kingdom equestrian team, was the only female competitor not to have to submit to a sex test. Maybe, she was afraid she might fail. I can’t really remember.

Boris Onischenko, of the USSR’s modern pentathlon team, was disqualified for cheating. This so enraged other Soviet team members that, for example, the volleyball players threatened to throw him out the hotel window if they met him. Maybe, they did. I can’t really remember that either.

Japanese gymnast Shun Fujimoto performed on a broken right knee, and still helped his country to the team gold medal. Fujimoto broke his leg on the floor exercise, and was able to complete the event on the rings, where he performed a perfect triple somersault dismount, maintaining perfect posture.

His 9.7 score secured the gold for Japan. Years later, when asked if he would do it again, he stated bluntly "No, I would not." It seems, I’m not the only one who has lasting memories of the 1976 Games.

The moose, the jackass, or the hat

7/18/2006

The town of Wiarton, rodent lovers everywhere, and a whole whack of other people with too much time on their hands, are in a state of mourning.

Yes, poor little Willie is dead.

One of Canada's best-known and least-accurate weather forecasters, Wiarton Willie, died after an illness last week. The eight-year-old albino marmot is now the second Willie to head to that great burrow in the sky since the controversy of 1999.

When Willie was found dead in his burrow just days before that year's Groundhog Day festivities, his handlers held a funeral. Few could have predicted the backlash when it was discovered the rodent in the casket was an impostor who had died, and had been lovingly stuffed, some time earlier.

The story of Wiarton Willie dates back to 1956, when Wiarton resident Mac McKenzie threw a Groundhog Day party. A Toronto Star reporter arrived looking for the story, and found Mac and his pals getting sauced in the local hotel.

Making sure the scribe wouldn’t go home empty handed, Mac grabbed his wife's fur hat, dug a little burrow in the snow, and made a prediction no one remembers. The picture of Mac and the hat ran in the Feb. 3, 1956, edition of the Toronto Star.

One year later, 50 people arrived for the festival, and the rest (much like Willie right now) is history.

The problem with using a groundhog as your town mascot, is the animal’s longevity, or lack of it.

In the wild, the groundhog, also known as the woodchuck, whistle-pig or ball-nibbler, lives an average of six years. That average spikes as high as eight years or more for an animal kept in captivity.

The solution? Find a new animal to make your predictions that will stick around longer than eight years. The moose, a Canadian favourite, will live an average of 12 years in the wild, or 25 in captivity.

The grizzly bear and baboon both check in at 20 years in the wild, and around 50 years in captivity.

A hippo can get as old as 40, even 60, in a zoo.

A chimpanzee lives at least that long, and they don’t seem to mind dressing up either. Perhaps the most fitting choice for the festival would be the jackass, who can get close to 50 with proper care.

When it comes to animal longevity, the tortoise is the undisputed king. Specimens routinely live in excess of 100 years, and one given to the King of Tonga reportedly lasted over 150 years.

Wiarton might even consider using bacteria as the town’s new calling card. Years ago, a bacteria specimen, found alive in mud at the bottom of Windermere Lake in northern England, was dated at around 1,500-years-old, give or take a few.

The simplest solution would be to find that old fur hat Mac stuck in the snow—because, let’s face it, no one really takes it all that seriously anyway.

...and then there’s campfire logic

7/11/2006

“Words are really silly, but they can be used well. It’s the only thing we have to work with while we’re talking.” — a conversation on a plane, in the 1971 film “Joe Cocker: Mad Dogs & Englishmen”

One thing you may notice this summer, while you are out and about, is that there is logic, and then there is campfire logic, and the two don’t particularly mix all that well.

Example #1 - Why are ocean levels rising?

Campfire logic dictates that it can be traced to the Inuit, and the reason you never see any poor Inuit art. Although the far north has its share of great artisans, there are some who just don’t measure up. After carving yet another three-tusked walrus, frustrated artists will cast the failed pieces into the Arctic Ocean before anyone can see them.

This has caused the northern waters to rise, knocking off more and more icebergs, which then melt as they drift their way south, further compounding the problem. Perfect campfire logic.

The real answer has more to do with global warming whittling away the polar ice caps.

It is a problem, and one we are unlikely to repair. We have come too far. The human race is not slowing down. We are not going away, and neither are all our machines. Eventually, we will melt enough ice cubes that the ocean will cool itself.

There is going to be some awfully wet basements in the process, but life will go on. That’s logic.

Example #2 - Why is obesity a growing problem?

Campfire logic dictates that it can be traced to the fact we have such big feet. In recent generations especially, shoe sizes seem to be going up and up. The body compensates for this growth by increasing appetite, thereby encouraging an increase in nourishment. When the rate of caloric intake exceeds the rate of foot growth, the result is obesity. Bigger feet makes bigger people. Perfect campfire logic.

The real answer has more to do with the quality and quantity of food we are eating.

As the world population expands, it is becoming increasingly difficult to feed everyone well. This imbalance encourages a proliferation of cheap, less nutritious foods. The more of that junk we eat, the fatter we are going to get.

The government can put all the nutrition and warning labels it wants on food products, but only a small percentage of experts are capable of understanding what it all means. Efforts to combat obesity will fail until good food becomes cheaper, and easier to find on store shelves, than all the terrible, tasty stuff we love so much.

That’s logic.

Campfire logic does not end with ocean levels and obesity. If you find yourself around a fire, test the waters with the energy crisis, gas prices, and the best oxymoron of the summer: indoor dogs.

Drinking dishwater in your underwear

7/4/2006

While the feeling in the west may be “long live the King of Beers!”, Budweiser in Germany is being met more often with a cry of “off with its head!”

German soccer fans have been treating the self-proclaimed “King” like more of a pauper during this year’s World Cup tournament, and have not been shy in letting everyone know just how little they think of the popular American brew.

The makers of “Bud”, Anheuser-Busch, paid $40 million for "pouring rights" at 12 stadiums across Germany during this summer's World Cup.

The problem is, Germans hate Budweiser.

Weeks before the first games even kicked off the event, Germans were furious at the prospect of having to sit in stadiums and drink what they refer to as "dishwater”. Websites were set up, complete with images of an American Eagle vomiting beer as a tribute to the beer, and one site went so far as to call Budweiser "an insult to all true beer lovers" and an "insult to your tongue."

Soccer's governing body, FIFA, did nothing to improve Budweiser's standing when it forced thousands of Dutch fans to watch the first round Holland vs. Ivory Coast game in their underwear.

Close to a quarter million Dutch fans had purchased new shorts, in the country’s trademark orange, to support their team. The shorts included the logo of the Dutch beer Bavaria and, in a brazen move to protect Budweiser's rights, FIFA officials forced Dutch supporters to remove their shorts.

You see, the World Cup is a marketer's dream.

More than a billion people watched the 2002 final between Brazil and Germany, and it is estimated a total of 32 billion viewers will watch this year's tournament, thanks to an estimated audience of 350 million soccer fans tuning in to each match.

Such titanic audiences are the reason companies will spend $1 billion in advertising before the tournament's end. Budweiser is expected to spend $70 million, more than at the Super Bowl and Olympics.

Simply put, the World Cup is the number one beer consumer event in the world. In an effort to appease insulted drinkers, Budweiser did cut a deal to allow German-made Bitburger beer to be sold in stadiums, albeit in unmarked cups.

Historically speaking, Germans like their beer.

There are more than 1,200 breweries in the country, and Budweiser represents less than one per cent of the market share in Germany. In a country filled with so many options for suds, the King of Beers is rather low on Hans and Franz’ list.

I, on the other hand, am not quite as discerning.With no hope of getting through 1,200 local beers, I would be happy to sit in the sun, and suck down a dishwater or two in my underwear.

Who knows, I might even try it in this country.