You don't "get someone back", you "get back at someone!" Grrr.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Armstrong's Strong-Arming
OK. We get it. No-one messes with The Boss. But is it just me, or did Lance Armstrong go too far when he stamped out Filippo Simeoni's breakaway attempt in the eighteenth stage of the recently-concluded Tour de France just to prove a point?
Don't get me wrong. I religiously watched as much of this year's Tour as I could, just to watch Lance decimate his challengers. I think Lance Armstrong is one of the greatest athletes in the history of sport not just for his physical ability but more for the incredible focus and determination that is so apparent every time he rides. I think he is an absolute animal who could ride much much faster and harder than we have seen, if only he had someone to push him to those limits. (After all, the greatest feats are generally the products of the greatest rivalries: Ali-Frazier, Warne-Muralitharan, Sampras-Agassi, USA-USSR.) I think his comeback to the top of professional sport from a near-death cancer affliction is nothing short of miraculous and is a testament to just how strong his fighting spirit is. I think all the criticism of his year-round focus on winning the Tour and the fact that the US Postal - Berry Floor team is handpicked and trained for that one purpose is just sour grapes because nobody likes dynasties - just ask the West Indies, Steffi Graf, the Chicago Bulls, Brazil or even the Nehru family. And most importantly, I think his cycling immortality has been achieved fair and square, regardless of all the doping allegations floating around. As Armstrong himself said in a recent interview, extraordinary accusations must be followed by extraordinary proof. Hell, if I didn't think all of these things, I wouldn't be plugging his fundraising efforts.
Unfortunately, I also think that not being a gracious winner is far less excusable than being a poor loser. Losing is never easy, but although whiny losers are annoying and annoyingly plentiful, they at least have the semblance of an excuse to whine - they did lose after all. So what's the excuse for the person who's on top? What more does he or she have to prove? In chasing after Simeoni, something the leader of a team hardly ever does, Armstrong just showed that he is not above petty rivalries. That holding a grudge can be taken too far. That true magnanimity is so rare because it is so difficult.
Lance Armstrong the cyclist inspires awe. Lance Armstrong the boyfriend of Sheryl Crow inspires envy. Lance Armstrong the cancer survivor simply inspires. Lance Armstrong the person doesn't inspire much of anything.
Don't get me wrong. I religiously watched as much of this year's Tour as I could, just to watch Lance decimate his challengers. I think Lance Armstrong is one of the greatest athletes in the history of sport not just for his physical ability but more for the incredible focus and determination that is so apparent every time he rides. I think he is an absolute animal who could ride much much faster and harder than we have seen, if only he had someone to push him to those limits. (After all, the greatest feats are generally the products of the greatest rivalries: Ali-Frazier, Warne-Muralitharan, Sampras-Agassi, USA-USSR.) I think his comeback to the top of professional sport from a near-death cancer affliction is nothing short of miraculous and is a testament to just how strong his fighting spirit is. I think all the criticism of his year-round focus on winning the Tour and the fact that the US Postal - Berry Floor team is handpicked and trained for that one purpose is just sour grapes because nobody likes dynasties - just ask the West Indies, Steffi Graf, the Chicago Bulls, Brazil or even the Nehru family. And most importantly, I think his cycling immortality has been achieved fair and square, regardless of all the doping allegations floating around. As Armstrong himself said in a recent interview, extraordinary accusations must be followed by extraordinary proof. Hell, if I didn't think all of these things, I wouldn't be plugging his fundraising efforts.
Unfortunately, I also think that not being a gracious winner is far less excusable than being a poor loser. Losing is never easy, but although whiny losers are annoying and annoyingly plentiful, they at least have the semblance of an excuse to whine - they did lose after all. So what's the excuse for the person who's on top? What more does he or she have to prove? In chasing after Simeoni, something the leader of a team hardly ever does, Armstrong just showed that he is not above petty rivalries. That holding a grudge can be taken too far. That true magnanimity is so rare because it is so difficult.
Lance Armstrong the cyclist inspires awe. Lance Armstrong the boyfriend of Sheryl Crow inspires envy. Lance Armstrong the cancer survivor simply inspires. Lance Armstrong the person doesn't inspire much of anything.
Monday, July 19, 2004
UNReal
I did Chicago Cycling Club's (CCC) "Ultimate Neighbourhood Ride" yesterday and had an absolute blast. The ride consisted of three loops taking about six hundred riders through various neighbourhoods of Chicago. I had pre-registered online and had to reach the venue, a building in University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC) campus, just south of downtown Chicago between 7 and 9 am to pick up my rider packet, which included a route map with cue sheets listing every turn, a small pre-ride snack and a pair of free CCC cycling gloves.
I had planned on waking up at 5.30 so I could leave home at 6 and take the L down there, but I slept through my alarm and only woke up around 6.15. By the time I got down to UIC on the train it was almost 8 and I started the ride at about 8.20. The weather was perfect barring a fairly stiff northerly breeze, but that didn't affect my ride, as I chose a speed that allowed me to look around and take in the scenery. One could do any one or more of the three loops in any order, so I decided to begin with longest of the three - the twenty-mile northwest route which went through neighbourhoods like Greektown, Little Italy, the Ukrainian Village (with some beautiful Russian Orthodox style churches), Wicker Park, Humboldt Park, Logan Square and Bucktown and past United Center, the home of the Chicago Bulls. Given how early it was on a Sunday morning most of the streets were empty, and the ride was a really pleasant one.
After a brief rest stop back at the start to refuel with brownies, cookies and Gatorade I set off on the twelve-mile-long south loop which went through Pilsen and the heart of Chinatown (bustling with people and very unlike the one restaurant-lined street that most people visit) and by McCormick Place (Chicago's main convention centre, which hosts several events throughout the year, including the annual Chicago Auto Show). We also rode past Soldier Field, home of the Chicago Bears and through the Bronzeville neighbourhood past the Illinois Institute of Technology (Chicago's very own IIT!), which had a huge corrugated pipe-type structure surrounding the closest train station, presumably as a bizarre tribute to the Institute's focus on engineering and technology.
Returning to UIC, I again stopped briefly for an American staple - a couple of PB&J sandwiches and some more Gatorade - before I started on the last loop, a short nine-mile ride through the Magnificent Mile, Gold Coast and River North neighbourhoods in the heart of downtown Chicago. I enjoyed this one the least, probably because I've been downtown so many times in the past four years that nothing was really novel, and also because the increased traffic on the streets due to the later hour made riding a little less pleasurable.
On the whole, unlike last week's L.A.T.E. Ride, this one was excellently organised, with clearly visible road markings for every turn, and course marshals guiding us at locations that required us to leave the road or make a more complicated manoeuvre. Having a cue sheet listing all the turns was also a great boon and I only missed one turn in the whole ride. The entire forty-two miles took about four hours because I wasn't really riding hard and because of the stop-and-start nature of any ride on city streets with stop signs and traffic lights. I think the smaller number of riders also helped the organisers make the ride far more efficient and and easier to regulate.
Riding with clipless pedals for the first time was quite an experience, and unable to unclip in time at an intersection, I took my first (and fortunately, only) tumble of the day on a busy street in Chinatown. Incidentally, the "clipless" moniker is quite misleading and dates back to a strange historical anomaly in cycling nomenclature. An older accessory that performs the same functions as a clipless system is the plastic or rubber "cage" attached to a regular pedal, which you slip your foot into. This, funnily enough, was called a "clip." To differentiate the clip from the newer invention, the new system was called "clipless" and the name stuck.
I had planned on waking up at 5.30 so I could leave home at 6 and take the L down there, but I slept through my alarm and only woke up around 6.15. By the time I got down to UIC on the train it was almost 8 and I started the ride at about 8.20. The weather was perfect barring a fairly stiff northerly breeze, but that didn't affect my ride, as I chose a speed that allowed me to look around and take in the scenery. One could do any one or more of the three loops in any order, so I decided to begin with longest of the three - the twenty-mile northwest route which went through neighbourhoods like Greektown, Little Italy, the Ukrainian Village (with some beautiful Russian Orthodox style churches), Wicker Park, Humboldt Park, Logan Square and Bucktown and past United Center, the home of the Chicago Bulls. Given how early it was on a Sunday morning most of the streets were empty, and the ride was a really pleasant one.
After a brief rest stop back at the start to refuel with brownies, cookies and Gatorade I set off on the twelve-mile-long south loop which went through Pilsen and the heart of Chinatown (bustling with people and very unlike the one restaurant-lined street that most people visit) and by McCormick Place (Chicago's main convention centre, which hosts several events throughout the year, including the annual Chicago Auto Show). We also rode past Soldier Field, home of the Chicago Bears and through the Bronzeville neighbourhood past the Illinois Institute of Technology (Chicago's very own IIT!), which had a huge corrugated pipe-type structure surrounding the closest train station, presumably as a bizarre tribute to the Institute's focus on engineering and technology.
Returning to UIC, I again stopped briefly for an American staple - a couple of PB&J sandwiches and some more Gatorade - before I started on the last loop, a short nine-mile ride through the Magnificent Mile, Gold Coast and River North neighbourhoods in the heart of downtown Chicago. I enjoyed this one the least, probably because I've been downtown so many times in the past four years that nothing was really novel, and also because the increased traffic on the streets due to the later hour made riding a little less pleasurable.
On the whole, unlike last week's L.A.T.E. Ride, this one was excellently organised, with clearly visible road markings for every turn, and course marshals guiding us at locations that required us to leave the road or make a more complicated manoeuvre. Having a cue sheet listing all the turns was also a great boon and I only missed one turn in the whole ride. The entire forty-two miles took about four hours because I wasn't really riding hard and because of the stop-and-start nature of any ride on city streets with stop signs and traffic lights. I think the smaller number of riders also helped the organisers make the ride far more efficient and and easier to regulate.
Riding with clipless pedals for the first time was quite an experience, and unable to unclip in time at an intersection, I took my first (and fortunately, only) tumble of the day on a busy street in Chinatown. Incidentally, the "clipless" moniker is quite misleading and dates back to a strange historical anomaly in cycling nomenclature. An older accessory that performs the same functions as a clipless system is the plastic or rubber "cage" attached to a regular pedal, which you slip your foot into. This, funnily enough, was called a "clip." To differentiate the clip from the newer invention, the new system was called "clipless" and the name stuck.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Long After Twilight Ends
The L.A.T.E. Ride on Sunday morning was interesting but I'm not sure I want to to do it again unless the organisation is a little better and I can get people to ride with me. There were about 7,500 riders starting in four waves of about 2,000 riders each depending on what your rider number was. Since mine was 1123, I started in the first wave around 1.30 am, which was a mixed blessing of sorts; starting early meant that I could set my own pace and not be slowed down by the pack and also reduced the chance of accidental collisions with other riders at crowded intersections. Unfortunately, it also meant that I was riding pretty much alone or with a small group throughout the twenty-five-mile course and didn't savour the experience that comes with riding in a large group.
Still, the route was fun and covered areas of Chicago I hadn't been through before. A part of the ride took us through Lincoln Park, Chicago's popular bar and restaurant district, where we got a lot of cheers (and occasional jeers!) from hundreds of people heading home after a Saturday night out. Immediately after that we went through a much quieter residential neighbourhoods in Lakeview and Ravenswood where there weren't too many people stirring and there were hardly any cars on the road.
Throughout the ride the Chicago Police Department did an excellent job of manning major intersections, sometimes even halting oncoming traffic and waving riders through red lights, recognising that it's really frustrating for bicyclists to come to a stop at intersections. At other less important crossings we were on our own, and it is here that riding with a group would have helped, a la Critical Mass. If you're a lone rider you are forced to stop and wait for the lights to turn green again.
Despite the halts and one rest stop for food and water, I made good time, paced by the other riders, who, being in the front of the pack, were relatively fast.
Hung around for about half an hour after the ride consuming the bag breakfast, with energy bars, a banana and a milk shake, so by the time I left for the train station it was past 4 am and around sunrise at 5.30 in the morning when I finally got home. Despite sleeping the previous evening my sleep cycle was thrown completely out of whack and I slept till noon on Sunday and then again from 8 to 10 pm before I met up with some friends for a few beers! Fortunately, I slept another ten or so hours last night and today I'm back to normal after a fairly fatigued and sleepy day yesterday.
Next Sunday's "Ultimate Neighbourhood Ride" should be more fun, as it is early in the morning and is a much smaller affair (about six hundred participants).
Monday, July 12, 2004
In Memoriam
Sniff sniff! My homey is a bachelor no more. Well, Luvshack, congratulations on the engagement man - hope you guys have a great life together. Bring on the champagne!
Sunday, July 11, 2004
It's All Greek (Part II plus)
As every true-blue dyed-in-the-wool geek that ever performed a triple partial differentiation knows, next to the ubiquitous x, the most common variable names used are all the Greek letters alpha through omega, presumably to ensure that equations do not have even the ghost of a chance of degenerating into those horrifying and flimsy entities that ought to remain the prerogative of lowly arts students - words.
Which begs the question: faced with similar mathematical situations, what do Greek geeks do?
Oh and here's a bonus for you people who actually read this post:
Q: What is the difference between a science student, an engineering student and an arts student?
A: A science student asks, "Why does it work?"
An engineering student asks, "How does it work?"
An arts student asks, "Would you like fries with that?"
Which begs the question: faced with similar mathematical situations, what do Greek geeks do?
Oh and here's a bonus for you people who actually read this post:
Q: What is the difference between a science student, an engineering student and an arts student?
A: A science student asks, "Why does it work?"
An engineering student asks, "How does it work?"
An arts student asks, "Would you like fries with that?"
Friday, July 09, 2004
Saturday, July 03, 2004
Against The Odds
No WWE fight is satisfying unless the hero comes back from being completely demolished to somehow beat the bad guy. I can't think of a single Hollywood sports movie ("Rocky", "Major League", "Tin Cup", "Cool Runnings", "The Replacements", "Miracle" - have I missed out a sport somewhere?) where the eventual victor is anything but a rank outsider in the beginning. Any number of Hindi movies depict, with widely varying degrees of accomplishment, the same thing. David and Goliath, St. George and the dragon, Tolkein's hobbits - the win-against-all-odds hero is everywhere, in history and in fiction.
What is it about the underdog that fascinates the human race? Are we a bunch of losers who therefore relate to the prospect of an unexpected victory? Are we eternal pessimists trying with all our might to be optimistic? Or is it just the element of surprise that we, as vicarious thrill-seekers, crave?
It's all Greek to me:
I was delighted when Greece won the Euro Cup semi-final, and I would dearly love to see them win the whole thing. Unfortunately, a lot of people seem to be pretty upset that Greece has reached the finals of the Euro Cup. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's just a case of sour grapes because all the so-called powerhouses didn't fare too well.
Granted Greece is not the most attacking or fluid team in the world, but they're extremely good at what they do and their defence thoroughly deserved to hold France and the Czech Republic goalless. Their tackling is crisp and on target (I can't really remember a single missed tackle in either match), and the marking is absolutely phenomenal. To be able to completely shut down such accomplished forwards as Zidane, Thierry Henry, Milan Baros, Nedved and Poborsky is not just commendable, it's a revelation!
And so what if their attack plan is somewhat predictable and ineffective. If they can score when it counts, I see no reason to deny them their just reward. They have now beaten all three of the "favourites" to win the Cup at some stage and it's fitting that the last match of the tournament will be a rematch of the first one.
Unfortunately, if the officiating in the final starts up from where it left off in both of the home team's knockout stage matches, then I don't see how Greece is going to win. While I will admit that Portugal did deserve to beat Holland and England just got unlucky, I have to say I was disappointed with the referees, especially in the semi-final.
Sharap as a knife:
Moving on to another underdog, Maria Sharapova completely blasted Serena Williams off the court in the ladies' singles final at Wimbledon. I haven't really watched her play at this year's Championships before this, but I couldn't believe the power of her groundstrokes. It takes a lot to out-hit Serena and more still to drive her so far out of a point and off the court that she gives up the chase. Going by the semi-finals and the final, women's tennis may not be doing so badly after all.
The Chronicles of Roddick... not:
Underdog or not, I hope Andy Roddick loses tomorrow. Not a big fan of his and a loss would give the American commentators, especially Cliff Drysdale and Mary Carillo, a little less to crow about on Independence Day. I shudder to think what would have happened if Serena had played Lindsay Davenport in the ladies' final.
What is it about the underdog that fascinates the human race? Are we a bunch of losers who therefore relate to the prospect of an unexpected victory? Are we eternal pessimists trying with all our might to be optimistic? Or is it just the element of surprise that we, as vicarious thrill-seekers, crave?
It's all Greek to me:
I was delighted when Greece won the Euro Cup semi-final, and I would dearly love to see them win the whole thing. Unfortunately, a lot of people seem to be pretty upset that Greece has reached the finals of the Euro Cup. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's just a case of sour grapes because all the so-called powerhouses didn't fare too well.
Granted Greece is not the most attacking or fluid team in the world, but they're extremely good at what they do and their defence thoroughly deserved to hold France and the Czech Republic goalless. Their tackling is crisp and on target (I can't really remember a single missed tackle in either match), and the marking is absolutely phenomenal. To be able to completely shut down such accomplished forwards as Zidane, Thierry Henry, Milan Baros, Nedved and Poborsky is not just commendable, it's a revelation!
And so what if their attack plan is somewhat predictable and ineffective. If they can score when it counts, I see no reason to deny them their just reward. They have now beaten all three of the "favourites" to win the Cup at some stage and it's fitting that the last match of the tournament will be a rematch of the first one.
Unfortunately, if the officiating in the final starts up from where it left off in both of the home team's knockout stage matches, then I don't see how Greece is going to win. While I will admit that Portugal did deserve to beat Holland and England just got unlucky, I have to say I was disappointed with the referees, especially in the semi-final.
Sharap as a knife:
Moving on to another underdog, Maria Sharapova completely blasted Serena Williams off the court in the ladies' singles final at Wimbledon. I haven't really watched her play at this year's Championships before this, but I couldn't believe the power of her groundstrokes. It takes a lot to out-hit Serena and more still to drive her so far out of a point and off the court that she gives up the chase. Going by the semi-finals and the final, women's tennis may not be doing so badly after all.
The Chronicles of Roddick... not:
Underdog or not, I hope Andy Roddick loses tomorrow. Not a big fan of his and a loss would give the American commentators, especially Cliff Drysdale and Mary Carillo, a little less to crow about on Independence Day. I shudder to think what would have happened if Serena had played Lindsay Davenport in the ladies' final.
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