Game On

We went on vacation for a week.

We got back and our computer was broken.

It cost Emily more money to get the computer fixed than it did for me to fix my car last month (actually the car pictured in this link is in waaaaaay better shape than my 1988 gem).

And certainly a lot has happened over the last two weeks that are blogworthy, but I have totally forgotten what they are.

So I'll start anew this week.

Tomorrow night we are going to see Jim Hightower speak at a Barnes and Nobles in Edina (sorry Booksense). This seems somewhat hypocritical to me, as Hightower champions small independent businesses and rails against chain stores. And Barnes and Nobles is pretty much Wal-Mart disguised in a black turtle neck, hidden behind a copy of the New York Times. Maybe I'll confront Hightower about this tomorrow night. That will give me something to write about and get this blog in motion again.

Angry White Man

I just got done finished posting about how impressed by Maria Sharapova's play in Wimbledon today. Don't let the rant you are about to read make you think I'm contradicting myself. I loved watching her play today. The rant you are about to read is more about how she, so far, has received a free pass from the media, for some pretty selfish, prima donna-type, behavior.

So, on with my rant.

First off, there are somethng like seven young Russian women tennis players (like Sharapova) who are ranked in the world's top 25, and it's refreshing that they are not famous just for their looks (Anna Kournikova's 15 minutes should have expired long ago). Ironically, Miss Kournikova has been called the inspiration for this upswing in Russian women tennis players.

And my point is just that: I enjoyed watching Sharapova because of how good she was today. She was groomed to be a tennis star at age six, and she is a packaged commodity just like any other movie, rock, or sports star. I am too cynical to get into how charming she is, how close to her father she is, or how her family had to flee Chernobyl. I don't know what to believe and what not to believe when it comes to those kind of stories, so I stick to what I know. She and Serena played some amazing tennis this morning, and anything beyond that could be fact or fiction.

{START RANT HERE}

When Joe Horn grabbed a cell phone and made a phone call after scoring a touchdown, he was fined $30,000.00 and turned into a villian the instant it happened, and for months after, in the newspapers, on radio and TV sports shows.

Joe Horn was grandstanding and his behavior obnoxious, and he needs to live with the negative publicity he received.

But this morning (or afternoon, in London), after winning Wimbledon and running into to the stands to hug her dad, Miss Sharapova then returned to Centre Court and motioned for her dad to pass down a cell phone. Then she tried her call her mom while Serena had to sit there and watch, along with the rest of the crowd and the TV audience. She held up the awards ceremony with this stunt, and played to the cowd, pantomiming frustration because she couldn't get a signal.

The crowd laughed and the announcers joked about it too.

Damn, Click here and read the AP story. I like the part that says,

After the match, Sharapova was giddy and giggly, fumbling with a cell phone while trying to call Mom, just like any 17-year-old at a suburban mall on Saturday afternoon.

I don't recall any AP story that talked about how "giddy and giggly" Joe Horn was when he made his call. Cripes...

How in the hell is this different from what Joe Horn did?

Emily said it was different because the match was over, while Horn pulled his stunt mid-game. I also think an argument can be made that Joe Horn was a member of 45 man team, 10 of whom were on the field when he scored the touchdown that lead to his phone call. Meanwhile, Miss Sharapova just won Wimbledon so the spotlight was on her already, so what she did wasn't as selfish.

BUT I'M NOT BUYING IT!!!!

Here's a bigger difference between the two episodes: Call #1 was made by an African-American man, playing a very violent sport that is full of poster-children for selfish, overpaid athletes, while call #2 was made by a cute, white, innocent girl (or at least one who has been coached just to play that part). Whether or not her call was pre-meditated like Joe Horn's was, isn't important. What is important is that Sharapova's cell phone was a classic act of grandstanding and a typical selfish act by an athlete that usually gets villified. So where are the angry commentators?

Maybe she will receive some backlash in the next few days. If she doesn't, there is a definite double-standard between the way the press and public opinion treat a cute 17 year-old and how it treats a grown man, even though Sharapova has been groomed on how to act for the last 11 years.

In the meantime I will continue to watch tennis stars like Sharapova and football players like Joe Horn. I value how they perform on the field, even if I don't approve of how they celebrate. But it would be nice if we treated the goose and the gander equally.

{END RANT HERE}

Is This Irony Or A Coincidence?

Poncho's favorite toy is a tennis ball he found on one of our walks. Recently crowned Wimbledon Champion, Maria Sharapova, reminds me of Poncho.

For those of you who have met Poncho and saw today's Wimbledon Championships for the women: don't you think Poncho and Maria Sharapova have a few things in common?

First, both are so skinny that they look unhealthy. About ten times a day, I think, "Poncho sure could use a steak right now." I thought the same thing ten times about Sharapova, while watching her completely blindside Serena Williams in today's final.



Image from DFS Classic Website

But once Poncho gets out in the open in an off-leash park he is one of the fastest (if not the fastest) mutt I have ever seen. He is also absurdly athletic in terms of how he can change direction mid-air (a la Kobe Bryant) to catch a ball. Then I forget all about how skinny he is.

And the same is true for Maria Sharapova. in between points and away from the game, she looks like the typical gangly teenager I see in Mall of America. The kind that I feel needs to be directed to the food court for a meal. But then everytime she chased down a ball or smashed a cross-court winner, I saw her as a world class athlete.

I had thought of officially naming Poncho, Poncho Parker, but now I think Poncho Sharapova is in order.