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At the Intersection of Sports and Culture

Photo Credit for Header: Alex Foucre-Stimes

The Day the Sports World Stood Still

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The fields lay fallow. The grass stands stout. Quiet crashes down, up and throughout stadiums like a tsunami, a tidal wave silence.

No scores.

No statistics.

No winners.

No losers.

A 24-hour self-imposed moratorium on competition. Allowing old wounds to heal, and youthful spirits refreshen.

Until tomorrow, when the games begin again anew. With a renewed purpose, a clearer mission. To entertain and distract. Thrill and anger. Joy and sadness.

The emotion of sports takes a well deserved timeout. Clearing minds. Filling hearts. Returning soon.

 

 

Fear of a Dwarf Planet

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This morning we reached for the stars, this evening they take the field in Cincinnati. A childlike curiosity colliding on the shores of the Ohio River and the outer reaches of our galaxy.

It turns out that space and baseball share more in common than the relativity of time. Last night’s Home Run Derby demonstrated that a countdown can be a good thing, that something as simple as the the tic-toc of a clock can reignite interest in an event that had laid dormant for far too long.

Now baseball mustn’t stop there. America’s Pastime can continue to propel itself into the future by embracing a broader coalition of fans and rules to better align itself with the 21st century. Speed up rules must take affect, ticket prices must be curtailed. The derby was a start but more can be done, more can always be done.

Same is true for space. Today our solar system is full of one fewer unknown now that images of Pluto have been beamed back across the Milky Way giving us our best glance yet of the icy orb.

Space however remains a bundle full of mysteries, a horizon lined with question marks and quantum leaps. Collectively, human beings have placed superficial limits on our understanding by allowing things as trivial and earthly as budget cuts and deficits to determine our intellectual reach. The answers are out there, somewhere amidst the suns and supernovas and unless we foster inquiry and fund future exploration then we run the risk of succumbing to our own inertia. Thinking inward rather than outward towards the ever expanding fringes of our universe will spell an untimely end for human existence on Earth.

Yet, as the Home-Run Derby proved last night, the clock should not be feared. The unknown must be embraced.

 

The Spieth Has Landed In Scotland

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From Moline to the Moors, the Heartland to the Highlands, the reigning Masters and U.S. Open champion arrives in St. Andrews with a Grand Slam on his mind and a tractor sized paycheck in his pocket following another victory, ho-hum, at the John Deere Classic, a tournament many believed it would be wise for him to bypass on account of much more loftier pursuits. Only time will tell if the tune up in the Quad Cities was worth the detour but either way that 850k will certainly help pay for a few more fishing excursions to the Bahamas.

Waiting in the wings at the home of golf, a collection of ravenous rivals feasting on an opportunity to hoist the Claret Jug. Walker, Woods, Westwood and Watsons young and old. Day and DJ, Rose and Rickie. Fowler that is and if there’s a hotter golfer on the planet right now other than Heir Jordan it would have to be the diminutive dirt bike rider who, fresh off a victory at the Scottish Open, has proven once again to be more substance than style.

And what most Rory be thinking, with ankle elevated and spirit deflated? A little game of footie with friends is always worth the risk but the significance of soccer in the Northern Irishman’s life pales in comparison to the competition on the links and the budding rivalry with a certain 21 year old Texan possessing realistic designs on seizing the world’s top spot from the hobbled McIlroy.

Never a dull moment or dry pint at St. Andrews and the 144th Open Championship.

 

Djoker’s Wild

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An Ace trumps a King.

Well, in this case it was also a magnificent return of serve that took down the GOAT, reducing the greatest to have ever grazed grass to little more than a pile of dust and dismay.

Even a late rain delay wasn’t enough to rejuvenate the sod or the Swiss’ fortunes. This Championship Sunday was a day for the Serb, his third Wimbledon title has him rubbing shoulders and legacies with all time greats Johnny Mac and his coach Boris Becker, who during this men’s final resisted the urge to illegally instruct or cajole an apprentice who, in the end, required very little additional guidance or motivation.

2015 has been quite a year for the world’s #1 and there is no reason to believe that Novak’s genius will end in the quiet suburbs of London. More titles will be won. Records meant to be broken.

And a year from now, when the grass has grown green once again, don’t be surprised when history repeats itself as Djokovic goes for three in a row over the ageless wonder that is Roger Federer. Still, even in defeat, the one true King of the court, Wizard of Wimbledon.

Flying Over France

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In my next life I shall return as a helicopter flying over the Tour de France, capturing images of the French countryside as the most famous bicycle race in the world travels through places like Paris and the Pyrenees, Normandy and Nice.

The grand sweeping beauty of hedgerows and pastures beneath. Historic palaces and fertile manors, both indicators of a revolutionary past and a peaceful present.

There will be moments of concern and trepidation as the thin air whirls past my propellor while ascending the steep slopes of the Alps. But my spirit will be emboldened while watching world class riders rise to the occasion, legs and hearts aching, starving for more oxygen.

Yellow is the goal for them, but for me, a helicopter, the clear blue skies be enough as I toast another great adventure down the Champs-Elysees. My one true Arc de Triomphe.