VOLLEY WALA

I know it's hard to believe now, but I didn't always have this studly bod and image.  Although I was always reasonably athletic, from grade school through high school I was substantially short and scrawny for my age.  In all-boys La Salle, this meant the only team sport I could try out for was volleyball.  I did make the Junior Varsity team (referred to back in the day as the "Midgets"), but in the school's coolness scale that placed me  somewhere just above the Leaf Collectors club and well below the Dungeons and Dragons crowd.    

All that changed in college and law school, where I filled out, grew up, and volleyball became...well, volleyball was still not cool BUT now there were girls who needed me to complete their six-a-side sportsfest teams!  Good enough! 

Fast forward to London 2012.  I bid for dozens of tickets to multiple events.  Through the genius of the ticketing system, I have my credit card debited unspecified amounts for undisclosed sports, and only weeks afterwards am I officially informed that I was gloriously allocated Olympics tickets...to Women's Indoor Volleyball. And nothing but Women's Indoor Volleyball. Four. Straight. Days of Women's Indoor Volleyball.

All this is a long winded way of saying: all you're getting out of the London Olympics from me are the previous craption posts, and these things I learned watching the same women's indoor volleyball teams...over and over and over again.

They really need to work on the players' intros 

Considering these were some of the most powerful, agile and graceful athletes in the world, there was nothing dorkier than the way Olympic women's volleyball players went out onto the court.  Run, half-jump then mid-air patty-cake?  Really?  I'm not saying you need a fog-machine or anything, and maybe a full-on body thump is too much too ask, but surely a little hip-bump-afta-da-jump is doable, ladies?


I heart Logan Tom

After the PA announcer introduced Logan Tom, I kept trying to remember where I had heard her name before.  Then it came to me. But lest you think she's of the Kournikova/Wie style-over-winning variety of athlete, I thought she was in fact one of the best players on the USA team, never saw her rest or substituted, and kept hearing the guy behind me say "Man, Tom's got guns!" referring to her wicked strong serves. (at least, I hope he was referring to her serves)  

(BTW, Logan Tom wasn't even the best name/talent combo on the USA squad.  That would be Destinee Hooker) 

"We are the Champions" should only be played after the Gold medal match, not as timeout karaoke, dammit!

I mean, is nothing sacred? 


Brazilians don't need no P.A. announcer telling them to "make some noise"

They can spontaneously samba on their own, thank you very much.  I truly believe what lifted Brazil to gold over the previously undefeated Americans was their fans, I really do.  (on the other hand...Logan...you must be devastated by your loss...you might be looking for a sympathetic shoulder to cry on...someone who understands the game and what it means to you...someone who, I don't know, maybe played midgets volleyball from grade school to high school...)

An innocent game of "Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" with the LLDD-baby can inadvertently turn into the Mexican Wave


Sorry about that.


The real stars of the games?  Los Wipers

Heroes, every single one of them.  Despite their mesmerizing choreography and movements and their more-frequent-than-you'd-think-because-of-all-the-TV-timeouts calls to action, the wipers received little respect, let alone adulation, from the fans.  Among other things I heard from the crowd: "Five bucks the fat one trips over her mop" (and she did); "He's lazy, that one in the middle is lazy!"; and my favourite "There's no style to it. You have to wipe with style."

Ignore them, young ones, just ignore them. I, for one, am truly envious of your position.

(because basically, that's Logan Tom's sweat you're wiping down there)

BECAUSE OLYMPICS, THAT'S WHY

Every dad strikes the "Usain Dork" pose if within sight of the rings.

At tube stations near event venues, you see random things like an African man rocking an expensive piña barong, formal pants and hippie sandals....and don't even bother asking why.

Some Canadian dudes knock on the door of the Embassy asking for Philippine Olympic lapel pins, come away with buri hats instead (which is cool, because chicks love the buri)

At the Olympic Village cafeteria, you think it's a good idea to match your country's 100+ kg judoka's carbo-loading.  

(it isn't)

It's never too early to expose your child to the unusuawesomeness that is Japan fans.

During a reception for some Olympic Guard of Honor schoolkids, our claim to the Kalayaan Islands is depicted....through cupcakes! 

Kalayum-yum!

At the Italy v. Algeria volleyball game, an Embassy's administrative officer finds the plumbers he needs for some chancery repairs.

BBC decides to play "Gold" after every win.  I've been saying this for years.

(Tony's also been carbo-loading, I see)

And every parent now thinks their kid can grow up to be an Olympian. Heck, even the LLDD-baby shows some Olympic potential...as a diving judge.

If that doesn't restore your faith in humanity, Phelps you, I don't know what will.