You don’t have to be a track and field fan to appreciate this.
Three Oregonians (Eugene residents, no less) sweep the men’s 800m at the trials.
Somewhere, Prefontaine is smiling.
Nick Symmonds’ finishing kick reminds me of another American from the past–Dave Wottle.
Jim McKay (God rest his soul) has the call.
Sorry, but this one was just too sweet not to post again.
I have big, big plans for the 4th:
If those aren’t All American plans, I don’t know what is.
Happy 7/4 to all. Be sure to wear your safety Googles goggles!
PS:
I recently saw with my own eyes The Declaration of Independence, The Constitution, The Bill of Rights and one of several copies of The Magna Carta.
I’ll have a little more to say about that in my next Huntsville Times community column which is set for 7/13.
Let freedom ring, baby.
Huntsville’s Margaret Hoelzer booked passage to the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games yesterday with a strong second place finish in the 100-meter backstroke event at the U.S. Olympic Swim Trials in Omaha.
Her 59.21 seconds would have tied the world record 2 days ago. But the winner, Natalie Coughlin, swam the first sub-59 second 100-back ever, her second WR in as many days.
This will be Hoelzer’s second trip to the Olympics. She represented The Rocket City and the rest of the U.S. in Athens in 2004 where she finished fifth in the 200 backstroke.
Competitive swimming and diving are a big deal in Huntsville, and we’ve long served as a seedbed for collegiate swim programs such as the University of Alabama and perennial NCAA powerhouse Auburn.
Speaking of which, Margaret dear, please remember this: You can actually get on a plane and fly to Beijing with the rest of the team; you don’t have to swim there.
Since you’re an Auburn grad, I just thought you might need the reminder.
The Huntsville Times’ Patricia McCarter tells the story of Aaron Josiah Miller and nails it.
Let’s remember him this way instead.
There are heavy hearts in Huntsville this morning after strong winds from a sudden microburst hit the air show at Huntsville International Airport yesterday afternoon. The 48 mph winds uprooted several large tents, sending large pieces of debri flying about and injuring 12.
Tragically, 5-year-old Aaron Josiah Miller of Athens was killed when one of the 5000 lb air conditioning units used to cool the tents fell on him.
Police and emergency personnel responded with distinction and the utmost skill, as did the staff at Huntsville Hospital. Still, there is sorrow-too-great-to-bear-alone for the family of Aaron and the thousands who witnessed this horribly tragic event.
Your prayers and thoughts sent our way would be greatly appreciated.
UPDATE #1: Mayor Loretta Spencer speaks for all of us.
UPDATE #2: I was wondering the same thing.
I’ve seen it so many times: A team fufills Cantona’s charge to “play beautiful,” out-passing and out-possessing their opponents for 89+ minutes, but fails to find the back of the net. And then, in those waning seconds, comes the knife in the back, cruelly twisted–the junk goal rolling past a desperate keeper’s outstretched fingertips. An impostor emerges from the fray, holding aloft the champion’s cup.
But not yesterday. Spain’s Fernando Torres saw to that.
His immaculate chip in the 33rd minute, made possible by another all-eyes pass from midfielder Xavi Hernandez, proved to be all that was needed as the youthful Spanish, skilled, fit and fast from front to back, created a masterpiece of stingy short-ball, rarely giving the Germans so much as a touch much less the time and space to mount any sort of attack.
I thought Die Mannschaft looked “old” and a little tired. And who wouldn’t be after tough, and even dramatic, wins against Portugal and Turkey in the quarters and semis? Somewhat lacking in depth compared to past squads, the Germans deserve much credit for a fine run. But, despite the fickle and mercurial nature of our mistress, The Beautiful Game, this time the best side won.
We were satisfied with the result and could have lived with either side winning. And watching the final with JRB and his charming family who had dropped in for a visit was the crowning touch, as exciting as Torres’ deftly placed strike itself.
Number Two Son, who was safely ensconced in an alpine youth hostel in Mittenwald watching the match, is no doubt a little disappointed.
But he’ll always be able to say something that most of us never will:
He hasn’t just visited any old Europe. He’s been to Euro-Europe.
And that makes all the difference.
It’s on: Die Mannschaft v. La Furia Roja.
But does anyone care? I do. So does the entire Eyefam. Especially Number Two Son who’s in the thick of it over there. And I bet Brady will watch too, despite the fact that his beloved Nati bit the dust hard and early.
But chances are all this soccer futbol talk will cause the eyes of the average NASCAR/American football fan who hangs out here to glaze over a bit.
Too bad.
Covering World Cup ‘06 2 years ago has been one of the highlights of my blogging career. Among my favorites during that time were the story of my very-best-day-ever on the pitch in “Allez, le Vieux” (”Go, you old boys!) and blogging the final live with JRB and Hermit Jeremy.
Futbol fans the world over trekked to Ocular Fusion in those header-filled days, and some of them have hung around. My friend Laurie (aka Seattle Soccer Mom) started reading my World Cup posts back then and that was the start of some big things for her. After some very intelligent observations regarding some of my posts, she had this to say on 8/10/06:
“I just stole my last post to start my own blog, having recently gotten back in touch with the “I write, therefore I am” aspect of my personality. Link to me occasionally!”
Little did she know then how things would turn out.
Since that time, Laurie, a can’t-get-enough fan of the L.A. Galaxy and the French National Team (Les Bleus), has gone on to become a big-time soccer blogger, with posts showing up on several internationally-popular soccer blogs (such as here and here). This goal-filled gig, by the way, has involved hopping on jets and traveling to exotic locales to cover her favorite teams.
Not that I’m jealous or anything like that. No siree. Not the magnanimous Mike the Eyeguy. Perish the thought.
She’s pretty modest too and seems surprised by her sudden success.
But I’m not–I knew she was a pretty special writer from the get-go.
Speaking of which, “Allez, le Laurie!”
I would say “Go, you old girl,” but I don’t know how to say that in French.
Bill and Chelsea, Tom Hanks, Goldie and Kurt, Malibu Librarian…and now Shaq too.
I’m telling ya, Huntsville is getting to be just like L.A.–without the traffic.
(Hat tip to Number One Son).