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nebroadweOogh, I'm short of sleep today -- but I wouldn't have missed the end of last night's Olympic gymnastics competition for ... um, all the tea in China? Sometimes the universe reminds you where the stories come from -- I mean, only in a sports movie would the underdogs find themselves faced with their most difficult test in the last rotation of the meet ... and only in a really terrible sports movie would all their hopes come to rest on the shoulders of the last man to perform, the one added to the team at the last minute to replace an injured superstar -- ye gods, the one who never quite lived up to his early promise (or the legacy of his coach-and-father, an Olympic champion) and whose inconsistency on the very apparatus upon which all now depends kept him off the team in the first place. Who comes up with this stuff?
But there was Alexander Artemev, pommel horse specialist, in his only appearance of the night, pacing the podium as the judges took their time scoring his teammate's performance. (Took their time, ha. The pace of the judging was positively glacial. I'm surprised they weren't digging the fossilized remains of competitors out of the chalk by the end of the night.) Finally given the signal to begin, he mounted the horse ...
(... and since this wasn't a sports movie, I held my breath ...)
... and nailed his routine to the apparatus with a freaking nail gun. (I caught a leg separation as he came around, a bit gingerly, on his one-handed one-pommel trick, but that was it.) The entire crowd didn't go wild, because the home team was busy crushing the Japanese on high bar at the time, but a vocal section of it did. Big David Durante, the remaining alternate, wiped tears from his eyes, then broke down and sobbed as it became clear that Artemev's performance had secured bronze for the plucky upstarts. Athletes and coaches leaped about and hugged one another and grinned and mugged for the camera. Dissolve to the medals ceremony and a series of competitor-by-competitor close-ups, as they watch their flag rise into the air ...
I suppose a truly horrendous sports movie would have had the American team competing for the gold, which just goes to show that the universe has some taste. You go, universe. But try to wrap up today's women's team competition before tomorrow, eh?
But there was Alexander Artemev, pommel horse specialist, in his only appearance of the night, pacing the podium as the judges took their time scoring his teammate's performance. (Took their time, ha. The pace of the judging was positively glacial. I'm surprised they weren't digging the fossilized remains of competitors out of the chalk by the end of the night.) Finally given the signal to begin, he mounted the horse ...
(... and since this wasn't a sports movie, I held my breath ...)
... and nailed his routine to the apparatus with a freaking nail gun. (I caught a leg separation as he came around, a bit gingerly, on his one-handed one-pommel trick, but that was it.) The entire crowd didn't go wild, because the home team was busy crushing the Japanese on high bar at the time, but a vocal section of it did. Big David Durante, the remaining alternate, wiped tears from his eyes, then broke down and sobbed as it became clear that Artemev's performance had secured bronze for the plucky upstarts. Athletes and coaches leaped about and hugged one another and grinned and mugged for the camera. Dissolve to the medals ceremony and a series of competitor-by-competitor close-ups, as they watch their flag rise into the air ...
I suppose a truly horrendous sports movie would have had the American team competing for the gold, which just goes to show that the universe has some taste. You go, universe. But try to wrap up today's women's team competition before tomorrow, eh?