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nebroadweThis year, I spent my summer vacation money on a trip to the U.S. Olympic Gymnastic Trials in Philadelphia. I'm an Olympics buff -- every four years, summer and winter, I'm useless for the two weeks the events are held. I attended the winter games in Utah in 2002 and the American diving trials in St. Louis in 2004, so when I had the opportunity to score all-event tickets to the gymnastics, I grasped it. Here follows a summary of my adventures, day by day:
Having been to the figure skating championships in Philadelphia back in 1998, I knew to park off-site and take public transit to the venue. All the sports arenas are built in a cluster south of South Philadelphia; the city's north-south subway line helpfully terminates right off the parking lots, so one avoids a) the expense of parking; and b) the scrum upon leaving. I also knew to sneak in my own snacks, for similar reasons: the lines at the food counters approach insane (though not quite as insane as those at the souvenir stands) and the prices ... well, I'm not rich enough to spend five bucks for a plate of nachos or seven for a hamburger (or $10 for a program -- I brought my own notebook and made my own memories), thank you very much. I toodled past all the temptations and made straight for my seat.
Thereupon I discovered that I had scored THE BEST SEAT IN THE WORLD, just about: eight rows up from ringside in a column of its own, so that not once did I have to rise to accommodate someone on his or her way in or out. For the men's events I had a fantastic view of the pommel horse (which has taken lately to eating American gymnasts, ouch) and the still rings and a decent bead on the floor; high bar, parallel bars and vault were at the opposite end of the arena from me. I was more or less straight across from the NBC booth, so I occasionally got to see Bob Costas, Bela Karolyi and a technical person in a huddle, making emphatic hand gestures. The crowd was sparse for the size of the venue, but very enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Lots of young people were present with parents in tow, as well as athletes' cheer groups, usually in custom T-shirts to let you know who they think needs to go to Beijing. Raj Bhavsar's people were prominent, but so were fans of David Durante and Sean Golden, both local boys for a given value of local -- Golden hails from just across the river in Camden, while Durante's a Central Jersey native. That's close enough to pull in a lot of fans in "Jersey Boys" T-shirts, though.
The fun of attending these competitions live, for me, is that you get to see everyone, not just the top few or the people that the TV crew thinks make a good story. It gives me a better feel for what good gymnastics looks like, too. I'm no expert, so I'd make notes during, say, a rings routine that "McNeill is very straight in his verticals but oddly shoulder-humped on his horizontals" and then realize, when Bhavasar subsequently performed his routine with a much flatter body-line in his horizontal position that I'd discovered one of the things that contributes to a high score. On the other hand, the TV commentary is illuminating when it deals in analysis rather than personality fluff. I found I had nothing to say about anyone's vault other than "lands a little to the side" or "steps forward," not only because I couldn't really see what was going on, but because I can't identify different kinds of vaults and how tough they are at sight. (I'm much better with figure skating jumps!)
It was a somewhat bizarre night -- the absence of Paul Hamm, injured during the national championships, was palpable, and no one seemed ready to step up and occupy his spot. Jonathan Horton and Raj Bhavsar both had good outings, but neither set the world on fire. Joseph Hagerty, who might have done so with great performances on high bar (my notes read "makes his release, sticks his landing and looks MIGHTY fine") and floor exercise (I made particular note of his press to a handstand, which went up smoothly, by contrast to some of his competitors' stop-starts), had a so-so time on parallel bars, merely survived the man-eating pommel horse, didn't stick the landing of his vault, and (despite what my notes describe as "great toes and strong verticals") didn't set the judges in a frenzy with his routine on still rings, either. He finished a close fourth, but he didn't look all that happy.
Alexander Artemev, who seemed to be having head problems during the national championships, was less plagued by them this evening. His floor exercise was nothing to write home about, but he shone on pommel horse: he waited a long moment before mounting the apparatus, but then roared through a full array of tricks and dismounted to thunderous applause (he kissed his hand to the audience). In the next rotation he took to the rings -- his father-and-coach straightened Artemev's posture as he hung waiting to begin, and for good reason: his knees seemed bent every time he went for a handstand, which may have been reflected in his lower score. Then he vaulted excellently, did pretty well on parallel bars, and got through his high bar routine with only a couple of form breaks. Over the course of his career the man's been a ping-pong ball -- but he finished the day on top of the leader board. I noted that if he stayed there, he'd put the selection committee in a very interesting position, given his history of ponging after he's pinged.
Further down the leader board, local boy Golden, a specialist, was pick of the night on vault and third in the floor, but sadly fifth on still rings, which didn't augur well for him with Kevin Tan laying down a monster routine (my notes read, "His horizontals look labored at first and he's working maybe too fast, but he slows it down and looks better and sticks his landing, with a side encouragement of 'Stick it!' from the crowd."). Durante was clearly jazzed by all the crowd support -- he began with a more-than-respectable parallel bars performance, giving the audience a fist-pump after his salute and leaving the podium in Who-da-man? style. Sadly, he then went on to miss his big release skill on the high bar and produce a merely passable floor exercise; for the final indignity, he fell head-first off the horse. In his final two rotations, however, he fought through to decent, if not stellar, scores on rings and vault. I don't know if the lesson here is "Don't showboat -- the gods despise hubris" or "Showboat while you can; you never know when Fortune's wheel will turn and dump you sprawling." Probably a little of both.
Unlike the usual set-up for gymnastic competition, where multiple competitors work simultaneously during each rotation, here each man performed his routine separately so that the selection committee could give him its undivided attention. T(That the audience was also able to give its undivided attention was a happy side-effect.) This arrangement made for a longer-than-usual evening, but there were very few delays between routines -- one man finished, the next one began, and scores popped up with little evident kerfuffle. I like the new scoring system, which separates the "How hard was that?" question from the "How well was that done?" one; it really helps me-the-audience understand what I'm looking at. (The local MC, John Macready, explained the scoring system using musicians as examples -- the Red Hot Chili Peppers never had a good competition, but at least they beat out Ozzy Osborne.) Light pop music played in the background the entire time (including, inexplicably, rock bagpipes while Tim McNeill and his coach adjusted the pommel horse) and the audience was very responsive, calling out or clapping encouragement to the athletes. Vendors roamed the stands -- "POPcorn! POPcorn!" "Candyman! Candyman!" "LEmonADE heah! LEmonADE!" -- and people ducked in and out during the transitions and warm-ups. Louder pop music was played then, too, and people were encouraged to dance for the opportunity to have their moment of fame on the big screen. The evening ended with a performance by one of the members of the junior national team in rhythmic gymnastics, giving her ribbon routine: very sparkly. And then I headed out, eagerly anticipating day two ...
To be continued ...
Having been to the figure skating championships in Philadelphia back in 1998, I knew to park off-site and take public transit to the venue. All the sports arenas are built in a cluster south of South Philadelphia; the city's north-south subway line helpfully terminates right off the parking lots, so one avoids a) the expense of parking; and b) the scrum upon leaving. I also knew to sneak in my own snacks, for similar reasons: the lines at the food counters approach insane (though not quite as insane as those at the souvenir stands) and the prices ... well, I'm not rich enough to spend five bucks for a plate of nachos or seven for a hamburger (or $10 for a program -- I brought my own notebook and made my own memories), thank you very much. I toodled past all the temptations and made straight for my seat.
Thereupon I discovered that I had scored THE BEST SEAT IN THE WORLD, just about: eight rows up from ringside in a column of its own, so that not once did I have to rise to accommodate someone on his or her way in or out. For the men's events I had a fantastic view of the pommel horse (which has taken lately to eating American gymnasts, ouch) and the still rings and a decent bead on the floor; high bar, parallel bars and vault were at the opposite end of the arena from me. I was more or less straight across from the NBC booth, so I occasionally got to see Bob Costas, Bela Karolyi and a technical person in a huddle, making emphatic hand gestures. The crowd was sparse for the size of the venue, but very enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Lots of young people were present with parents in tow, as well as athletes' cheer groups, usually in custom T-shirts to let you know who they think needs to go to Beijing. Raj Bhavsar's people were prominent, but so were fans of David Durante and Sean Golden, both local boys for a given value of local -- Golden hails from just across the river in Camden, while Durante's a Central Jersey native. That's close enough to pull in a lot of fans in "Jersey Boys" T-shirts, though.
The fun of attending these competitions live, for me, is that you get to see everyone, not just the top few or the people that the TV crew thinks make a good story. It gives me a better feel for what good gymnastics looks like, too. I'm no expert, so I'd make notes during, say, a rings routine that "McNeill is very straight in his verticals but oddly shoulder-humped on his horizontals" and then realize, when Bhavasar subsequently performed his routine with a much flatter body-line in his horizontal position that I'd discovered one of the things that contributes to a high score. On the other hand, the TV commentary is illuminating when it deals in analysis rather than personality fluff. I found I had nothing to say about anyone's vault other than "lands a little to the side" or "steps forward," not only because I couldn't really see what was going on, but because I can't identify different kinds of vaults and how tough they are at sight. (I'm much better with figure skating jumps!)
It was a somewhat bizarre night -- the absence of Paul Hamm, injured during the national championships, was palpable, and no one seemed ready to step up and occupy his spot. Jonathan Horton and Raj Bhavsar both had good outings, but neither set the world on fire. Joseph Hagerty, who might have done so with great performances on high bar (my notes read "makes his release, sticks his landing and looks MIGHTY fine") and floor exercise (I made particular note of his press to a handstand, which went up smoothly, by contrast to some of his competitors' stop-starts), had a so-so time on parallel bars, merely survived the man-eating pommel horse, didn't stick the landing of his vault, and (despite what my notes describe as "great toes and strong verticals") didn't set the judges in a frenzy with his routine on still rings, either. He finished a close fourth, but he didn't look all that happy.
Alexander Artemev, who seemed to be having head problems during the national championships, was less plagued by them this evening. His floor exercise was nothing to write home about, but he shone on pommel horse: he waited a long moment before mounting the apparatus, but then roared through a full array of tricks and dismounted to thunderous applause (he kissed his hand to the audience). In the next rotation he took to the rings -- his father-and-coach straightened Artemev's posture as he hung waiting to begin, and for good reason: his knees seemed bent every time he went for a handstand, which may have been reflected in his lower score. Then he vaulted excellently, did pretty well on parallel bars, and got through his high bar routine with only a couple of form breaks. Over the course of his career the man's been a ping-pong ball -- but he finished the day on top of the leader board. I noted that if he stayed there, he'd put the selection committee in a very interesting position, given his history of ponging after he's pinged.
Further down the leader board, local boy Golden, a specialist, was pick of the night on vault and third in the floor, but sadly fifth on still rings, which didn't augur well for him with Kevin Tan laying down a monster routine (my notes read, "His horizontals look labored at first and he's working maybe too fast, but he slows it down and looks better and sticks his landing, with a side encouragement of 'Stick it!' from the crowd."). Durante was clearly jazzed by all the crowd support -- he began with a more-than-respectable parallel bars performance, giving the audience a fist-pump after his salute and leaving the podium in Who-da-man? style. Sadly, he then went on to miss his big release skill on the high bar and produce a merely passable floor exercise; for the final indignity, he fell head-first off the horse. In his final two rotations, however, he fought through to decent, if not stellar, scores on rings and vault. I don't know if the lesson here is "Don't showboat -- the gods despise hubris" or "Showboat while you can; you never know when Fortune's wheel will turn and dump you sprawling." Probably a little of both.
Unlike the usual set-up for gymnastic competition, where multiple competitors work simultaneously during each rotation, here each man performed his routine separately so that the selection committee could give him its undivided attention. T(That the audience was also able to give its undivided attention was a happy side-effect.) This arrangement made for a longer-than-usual evening, but there were very few delays between routines -- one man finished, the next one began, and scores popped up with little evident kerfuffle. I like the new scoring system, which separates the "How hard was that?" question from the "How well was that done?" one; it really helps me-the-audience understand what I'm looking at. (The local MC, John Macready, explained the scoring system using musicians as examples -- the Red Hot Chili Peppers never had a good competition, but at least they beat out Ozzy Osborne.) Light pop music played in the background the entire time (including, inexplicably, rock bagpipes while Tim McNeill and his coach adjusted the pommel horse) and the audience was very responsive, calling out or clapping encouragement to the athletes. Vendors roamed the stands -- "POPcorn! POPcorn!" "Candyman! Candyman!" "LEmonADE heah! LEmonADE!" -- and people ducked in and out during the transitions and warm-ups. Louder pop music was played then, too, and people were encouraged to dance for the opportunity to have their moment of fame on the big screen. The evening ended with a performance by one of the members of the junior national team in rhythmic gymnastics, giving her ribbon routine: very sparkly. And then I headed out, eagerly anticipating day two ...
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Date: 2008-06-24 07:59 pm (UTC)I guess that gymnastics has its redeeming points.
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Date: 2008-06-25 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-25 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-26 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-26 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-27 12:36 am (UTC)