Saturday, August 11, 2012

AUGUST 11, 2012

      I began to worry that I wasn't smart enough to watch the Olympics when one game in some obscure sport--beach volleyball, maybe, on an indoor beach--ended with an apparent winner.  But the officials decided it was a tie and ordered a tie-breaker, which produced a seeming winner too.  But then the officials ordered a second tie-breaker.  They accepted that one and it was over.  A victory for truth?  Beats me.

     Parts of the Games were beautiful;  no one could argue that.  Parts were grand fun as when tiny Croatia whipped the U.S. at some sport so unfamiliar to me I can't remember which it was.  A friend solved one mystery:  why did none of these handsome, muscular men have chest hair. Catches the wind, I was told, can slow you down some fraction if a second. Well, that's what she said.

     Anyway, it's ending.
 It will be hard, I think, for the finale to match the opening when the Queen and James Bond exchanged hellos.

     So there I was in front of the TV just now
watching a baseball game and hearing words I've known for years--ball, strike, double play.

     Familiarity is sweet sometimes.      

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