I have been watching the Olympics since feeling the excitement in America. We didn’t really feel the excitement in Taiwan during my childhood because all of the excitement was around whether Taiwan should declare independence from China for calling Taiwan “Chinese Taipei”. What is that? That’s like calling America “British USA”.
Every four years I am accustomed to sitting around the dinner table and watching well edited slow-motion panning John Woo shots of Olympics atheletes, their mums, their uncles, and their sick grandmothers in the hospitals speaking about the only dream they have ever had since being diagnosed with gonadian cancer. The thought of the agony of removing the cancer-laden testicles from such a bright star would inevitably bring tears to my eye (as is yours currently, I hope). It is great television from 8pm to 10pm every night. A great story told by Bob Costas.
This year, however, things are not the same. Instead of hearing about the Hamm brothers overcoming down syndrome to get gold in Olympic gymnastics, I am hearing about how excited the British are about getting Bronze in the Pommel Horse. Whoopty doo. First of all, the pommel horse is like the least exciting sport in gymnastics. And even if it’s exciting, I have not seen any sick uncles, hospital shots, or bawling scenes from the guy’s sick sick African half-sister. WTF.
We do get some mention of Phelps….thank God. Yes, very grateful that the Brits would mention the best Olympian ever. Thanks, BBC. I owe you one.
I swear to God there seems to be an “important” football match every other week. Well this week(month), we have the Euro2008.
The most glaring thing with this event, however, is that the UK is not present….and as such…Beckham is not present. And when I say Beckham, I mean Victoria…aka Posh. So sad.
Digging into this matter a bit further, I discovered that the reason being commonly cited by Britons is football manager Steve McClaren, who was sacked after the UK not qualifying. Personally I think it was because they did not offer the red carpet treatment to Victoria.
Everyone in London will be watching Manchester United playing Chelsea in the European Cup Finals tonight. It’s revolved around some regional sport where teams of grown men run up and down a patch of green for a long time, occasionally kicking that ball into a net. Yeah, it will be bloody exciting. Wish you were beer.
Boris Becker has become mayor of London after a tight race against the incumbant Ken Livingstone. This is way more important than the Clinton / Barack race because we have some serious ASBOs in London stabbing kids and such.
The great thing with Boris is that not only does he have the foresight to clean up London, he also has the forehand to kick your arse on the tennis court. Not only does he have the strong passion for serving our city, he also has a 148 mph serve to ace you all day. Not only does he have the background in politics to be able to deliver on his promises, he also has a backhand that can win points. I can go all day…..
Not only can Boris win, he can Wim-ble-don….ok. I will stop here.
[Boris does look slightly different than his Wimbledon days, but I guess he’s a bit older and wiser. I could dice it and slice it all I want but that man still hits a mean slicing backhand.]
The birds, the flowers, the bees…ah yes, Spring is here. Oh, and the mass snow flurry this past weekend that covered the UK.
And no, I will not explain the birds and the bees.
The cherished #1 guy in the UK, David Beckham, returned yesterday for a England vs France football match (I have been in the UK long enough now where I don’t even know what soccer is anymore). I watched it in a pub with a bunch of other Brits and gotta say…it’s still that same sport that I’m not interested in even if Beckham is playing.
Summary of the game:
90 minutes. 1 score. Beckham. Ale.
That 1 score was on a penalty kick, which is where it’s 1 on 1. One kicker, one goalie. It’s the ultimate show down. Mano a Mano. Yes, most of the times, the kicker wins but it is the most exciting part of the game. It’s where everybody in the pub is watching and awaiting the result. The London Ninja recommendation for the sport of football is to go All Penalty Kicks. It would do wonders in gaining international traction. And by international, I mean America.
We need to just have kickoffs. One penalty kick after another. It would make the game not so boring. I will start this professional league once I get over the fact that I don’t like football that you play with your feet.
My hometown team, the San Diego Chargers are coming to London to play the Saints on October 26. If you recall, the NFL had a shit game this year of the Giants vs Dolphins earlier this season, which the Britons enjoyed. I had no interest in that game, even though the Giants made the Super Bowl this year. The Chargers did not but put up a good fight against the best team in the history of the NFL.
Anyone want to go to a Chargers game in London?
In case you are considering flying with British Airways, you may want to reconsider just a bit. One could say a complete power failure on a plane is a freak accident but I beg to differ. I think it was all the Beckham’s fault.
This is what you get for being cheap and flying coach.
On my last flight from Dublin on Aer Lingus, we had a landing that felt like we were going to be swimming in fire. I have never hit the landing as hard or as fast as this trip. It was pretty cool…cuz I get to blog about it. It was also one of the first planes with a female pilot I had been on. Please don’t read anything into that last sentence other than that it must be a pure coincidence that a female almost caused my plane to crash and my subsequent death. That’s all. Oh, and, we should take away their right to vote.
