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The Water Cooler
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Olympics August 10
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<blockquote data-quote="Lone Wolf &#039;49" data-source="post: 1867896" data-attributes="member: 3016"><p>Continued............</p><p></p><p>Media has plenty of access to athletes here-news conferences before competition and afterwards for the medalists.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>All other athletes are available after they compete, in a gosh-awful wonderful place called the mixed zone. The athletes must pass through on the way from the “field of play” to the locker rooms-and the locker rooms are not open to the media. (It’s called the “field of play” in all Olympic sports, from swimming to figure skating to soccer.) Media are on one side of a fence, athletes on the other. The athletes actually must pass through a whole gauntlet of television interviewers in the broadcast mixed zone before getting to the reporters. It’s the worst system, except for everything else. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When reporters rushed to the mixed zone to interview the gold-medal women’s beach volleyball players, the floor collapsed beneath them. No further comment&#8230;.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>We are distributing tickets for the closing ceremony and for Sunday’s gold-meda men’s basketball game. Things definitely are winding down.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“It’s the time of the Olympics,” a writer said, “when I’m ready to go home.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> For me, it’s the time when I realize so much left to do and so few days to do it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Weather: The most perfect day ever created. Some haze, but, what a day for a daydream! High 79, low 64. Some haze, but not a cloud in the sky. The Brits are now winning the sunburn games. </p><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A writer, a dear friend, said he thought these Olympics ranked “somewhere in the middle” of the eight games he has attended. No! Comparing Olympics is like choosing your favorite grandchild. It can’t be done! The fact is, it’s a 10-way tie for me. </p><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The USOC staff works incredibly hard; it’s just like the bowl staffs, or the staffs of the schools that host the NCAA tournament. Except they have a bowl game every day for two weeks.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Left the office at 5:30 for a night on the town. For us, that meant nearly two hours in the fabled British Museum, followed by an incredible walk down to Victoria Embankment and along the Thames. Craig B. and Bill M. joined us.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The museum, right across the street from the Montague, is only the world’s best, that’s all. We should have spent two days thee, not two hours. Seeing Rosetta Stone was a highlight. I distinctly recall Newty Barnett telling us about it in 1962. And the Behistun Rock. Those went together like Bert and Nan Bobbsey. I couldn’t believe we were actually standing there, looking at the R. Stone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The museum is the most user-friendly I’ve ever seen. You can rent a little stool to carry around and sit on when your wife wants to look at the clothing for a long time and you’d rather look at the display on the gladiators, or the one on the history of money. There’s a nice café, and grass out front for napping.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>We saw Olympic medals from 1908, 1948, 1984 and 2012. We debated whether Elgin did the proper thing by removing the friezes (sp?) from the Acropolis and bringing them here for safe keeping 200 years ago. The museum’s hours are only roughly 10 a.m. until 3 p.m., but it’s open until 8:30 Fridays. We knew we had to do it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The walk to the Embankment was fascinating. We lingered outside the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. We saw a 15 or 20 enchanted pubs, with lovely baskets of flowers hanging from the windows and young people spilling out into the streets in the dazzling summer evening, drinking beer and laughing. I predicted there’d be some he’in and she’in later.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>We squeezed cheek-to-cheek and tail-to-tail past some ultra-mod outdoor bars following a sign to “Brasil 2016.” We found a massive courtyard with salsa music and gyrating people. If this is what the ’16 Olympics will be like, count me in. Well, count me in, regardless.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Watching the waves of the Thames lap at our feet, we found ourselves at the base of Cleopatra’s Needle, an obelisk that was spirited here in 1880 or so and has survived. You can see pock marks from where a German bomb landed nearby in 1917. Oh, my.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>We walked back to the Montague, washed our hands and went back to Il Fornello after trying a couple of quieter places whose outdoor tables were filled. We did get to sit on the sidewalk and had a nice meal and some beer (Craig and I) and wine (Nicki). Michael Lewis, dean of USA soccer writers, walked past and we offered a seat at our table. We learned about life on Long Island and at Wembley Stadium.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Our waitress, Fanny (no kidding) was from a German island in the Baltic sea, had lived in Boston and Philadelphia for nine years, and cut no slack to the tipsy sophomores who whistled at her short skirt. She said the Olympics had not been great for business because regular tourists had stayed away. She told us that hotels around Russell Square had discounted their rates in the past few days, hoping to make up.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As we walked past Russell Square to the Montague at 11 p.m., we heard mariachi music. We investigated and found, indeed, found a dandy group wearing traditional mariachi outfits including the large wide-brimmed black embroidered Mexican hats, serenading outside a hotel. Young people sang along in Spanish. Folks who lived nearby surely were upset&#8230;.except one couple applauded from a balcony.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dinner: spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic cheese toast, London Pride beer, and a bite of Nicki’s margharita pizza.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A woman from Cornwall and her daughter were listening to the mariachis. “Aren’t they grand?” She asked about America and the Olympics and what we thought about England. We think it’s grand. Best part is the people! Second-best is the people. </p><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>What a privilege to be here! Every day is an adventure. Inspire a generation. And mind the gap.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lone Wolf '49, post: 1867896, member: 3016"] Continued............ Media has plenty of access to athletes here-news conferences before competition and afterwards for the medalists. All other athletes are available after they compete, in a gosh-awful wonderful place called the mixed zone. The athletes must pass through on the way from the “field of play” to the locker rooms-and the locker rooms are not open to the media. (It’s called the “field of play” in all Olympic sports, from swimming to figure skating to soccer.) Media are on one side of a fence, athletes on the other. The athletes actually must pass through a whole gauntlet of television interviewers in the broadcast mixed zone before getting to the reporters. It’s the worst system, except for everything else. When reporters rushed to the mixed zone to interview the gold-medal women’s beach volleyball players, the floor collapsed beneath them. No further comment…. We are distributing tickets for the closing ceremony and for Sunday’s gold-meda men’s basketball game. Things definitely are winding down. “It’s the time of the Olympics,” a writer said, “when I’m ready to go home.” For me, it’s the time when I realize so much left to do and so few days to do it. Weather: The most perfect day ever created. Some haze, but, what a day for a daydream! High 79, low 64. Some haze, but not a cloud in the sky. The Brits are now winning the sunburn games. A writer, a dear friend, said he thought these Olympics ranked “somewhere in the middle” of the eight games he has attended. No! Comparing Olympics is like choosing your favorite grandchild. It can’t be done! The fact is, it’s a 10-way tie for me. The USOC staff works incredibly hard; it’s just like the bowl staffs, or the staffs of the schools that host the NCAA tournament. Except they have a bowl game every day for two weeks. Left the office at 5:30 for a night on the town. For us, that meant nearly two hours in the fabled British Museum, followed by an incredible walk down to Victoria Embankment and along the Thames. Craig B. and Bill M. joined us. The museum, right across the street from the Montague, is only the world’s best, that’s all. We should have spent two days thee, not two hours. Seeing Rosetta Stone was a highlight. I distinctly recall Newty Barnett telling us about it in 1962. And the Behistun Rock. Those went together like Bert and Nan Bobbsey. I couldn’t believe we were actually standing there, looking at the R. Stone. The museum is the most user-friendly I’ve ever seen. You can rent a little stool to carry around and sit on when your wife wants to look at the clothing for a long time and you’d rather look at the display on the gladiators, or the one on the history of money. There’s a nice café, and grass out front for napping. We saw Olympic medals from 1908, 1948, 1984 and 2012. We debated whether Elgin did the proper thing by removing the friezes (sp?) from the Acropolis and bringing them here for safe keeping 200 years ago. The museum’s hours are only roughly 10 a.m. until 3 p.m., but it’s open until 8:30 Fridays. We knew we had to do it. The walk to the Embankment was fascinating. We lingered outside the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. We saw a 15 or 20 enchanted pubs, with lovely baskets of flowers hanging from the windows and young people spilling out into the streets in the dazzling summer evening, drinking beer and laughing. I predicted there’d be some he’in and she’in later. We squeezed cheek-to-cheek and tail-to-tail past some ultra-mod outdoor bars following a sign to “Brasil 2016.” We found a massive courtyard with salsa music and gyrating people. If this is what the ’16 Olympics will be like, count me in. Well, count me in, regardless. Watching the waves of the Thames lap at our feet, we found ourselves at the base of Cleopatra’s Needle, an obelisk that was spirited here in 1880 or so and has survived. You can see pock marks from where a German bomb landed nearby in 1917. Oh, my. We walked back to the Montague, washed our hands and went back to Il Fornello after trying a couple of quieter places whose outdoor tables were filled. We did get to sit on the sidewalk and had a nice meal and some beer (Craig and I) and wine (Nicki). Michael Lewis, dean of USA soccer writers, walked past and we offered a seat at our table. We learned about life on Long Island and at Wembley Stadium. Our waitress, Fanny (no kidding) was from a German island in the Baltic sea, had lived in Boston and Philadelphia for nine years, and cut no slack to the tipsy sophomores who whistled at her short skirt. She said the Olympics had not been great for business because regular tourists had stayed away. She told us that hotels around Russell Square had discounted their rates in the past few days, hoping to make up. As we walked past Russell Square to the Montague at 11 p.m., we heard mariachi music. We investigated and found, indeed, found a dandy group wearing traditional mariachi outfits including the large wide-brimmed black embroidered Mexican hats, serenading outside a hotel. Young people sang along in Spanish. Folks who lived nearby surely were upset….except one couple applauded from a balcony. Dinner: spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic cheese toast, London Pride beer, and a bite of Nicki’s margharita pizza. A woman from Cornwall and her daughter were listening to the mariachis. “Aren’t they grand?” She asked about America and the Olympics and what we thought about England. We think it’s grand. Best part is the people! Second-best is the people. What a privilege to be here! Every day is an adventure. Inspire a generation. And mind the gap. [/QUOTE]
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