My cousin and his wife cooked me an amazing dinner and gave me a Beatles shirt, tea mug, tea strainer and delicious loose leaf green tea for Christmas, so I decided to return the favor somewhat by cooking them dinner at their place in Hoboken tonight.
Afterward we watched the Olympics and saw the figure skating portion. We talked about The Beatles and figure skating because my sister was obsessed with both the first time I saw the Winter Olympics, in 1994. I remember pretending to cry about Nancy Kerrigan losing the gold to Oksana Baiul because my sister cared and was crying about it. I also remember seeing an exhbition at Nassau Coliseum where this African-French woman named Surya Bonali did a back flip and a Frenchman named Philippe Canderloro did back-to-back back flips, and being very blown away. I also remember this really cute Japanese woman who finished fourth, Yuka Sato, and seeing her on television in Japan during my first week in Tokyo. We were channel surfing and she just happened to be doing an exhibition, seventeen years later.
We talked a lot about The Beatles and Billy Joel, because the first CD I ever owned and received as a gift was by Billy Joel. I had been bobbing my head to one of his radio songs while riding in the Nissan Quest in Baltimore, and my parents decided to give me his newest album for Christmas that year. Never mind the fact they were giving an album about a mid-life crisis to a 9 year old. Even though I secretly knew The Beatles were better overall, I viciously defended Billy Joel against the attacks of my imposing stubborn older sister, much to the amusement of fellow diners at many a rest area along the eastern seaboard.
We also talked about the first year I cared about sports, because the Olympics were on and the first year I saw the Olympics was also the first year I cared about professional sports. Every team that I seriously honest-to-God rooted for with all my heart finished second that year. That is, with two exceptions. The first was the New York Mets. They were the worst team in baseball, and the first team I seriously followed after becoming a Buffalo Bills fan right before they lost their third straight Super Bowl. The Notre Dame Fighting Irish finished ranked #2 in NCAA football, even though they'd beaten #1 Florida State during the regular season. Then the Buffalo Bills lost their second straight Super Bowl to the Dallas Cowboys, after leading at halftime and beating them in the regular season. The 2 seed Duke Blue Devils, led by #33 Grant Hill, lost the NCAA basketball championship to the 1 seed (and favored) Arkansas Razorbacks by four points. And the New York Knicks lost the NBA Finals, led by #33 Patrick Ewing, to the Houston Rockets. In seven games. After leading 3-2.
But there was one exception. The New York Rangers, my favorite ice hockey team, won the Stanley Cup for the first time in over 50 years. In seven games. Over Vancouver. I had only played ice hockey once at that point, on a pond near my grandfather's house in upstate New York. Pretty much by myself too. I wore their t-shirt in my school picture for seventh grade. I keep that picture in my wallet behind my driver's license so I remember where I came from. I forgot about the symbolism of the Rangers. Also, my cousin's and my grandfather, Ted, was a New York Ranger. Not a hockey player. A real ranger. Although he did play just about every sport.
When my cousin asked me which winter Olympic sport I would choose to play given the chance, I said ice hockey, even though they would all kick my butt in three seconds. I've played it the least out of any of those sports, but it's always been my favorite to play.
After the Rangers I admit that I never really cared about watching hockey. Also, I couldn't even watch that championship live, because we didn't have cable. We heard about it on the news afterward, so we knew when it happened, but it wasn't the same as watching it.
None of my other favorite teams won a championship until I was 16. Duke had already broken my heart two years earlier by blowing the championship against Connecticut, but then they won the NCAA finals against Arizona in 2001. Now that I think of it, I was thinking about that game earlier today for some reason. They had pulled off an insane rally against arch-rival Maryland in the semi-final to make it there. They were down 39-17 in the first half, and I was involved in the school play Anything Goes in the role of a Chinese gambler at the time, and we kept rushing to the rehearsal room in between scenes to get updates on the game, and I got home just in time to see them win and advance to the final, completing one of the greatest comebacks ever. And for the record, Duke does not represent the evil empire, because North Carolina has historically been better, and even had Michael Jordan, and was much better than Duke when I started rooting for Duke, and it took five years of my rooting for them for Duke to become better than North Carolina. Anyway, after Duke won that game, I stopped caring so much about the outcomes of games over which I had absolutely no control, and in the process, appreciating the show taking place in front of me that much more.
When the Red Sox made history by being the first team to come back from a 3-0 series hole against the Yankees in the ALCS baseball playoffs, it was extra magical not only because I detested the Yankees, but because my friend wanted them to win, and it was almost even better to see my friend's team beating the Yankees and ending their curse (which my team, the Mets, had helped to extend) than it would have been to see the Mets doing the same thing. That was years ago, and now I just appreciate the athletic displays of finesse and power, and get pumped up to enjoy my own body's abilities, however long they may stay with me.
Think about this: the two worst teams in football during the first year I watched were the Seattle Seahawks and New England Patriots, both going 2-14 in 1992-93. The Patriots went on to become one of the greatest dynasties in football (even though I hated them and it's been documented that they completely cheated during their championship years) and the Seattle Seahawks are finally the reigning champions, having just dominated Denver.
Anyway, during all of these discussions we saw a woman figure skating in the short program, and she was absolutely boggling our minds with her graceful acrobatic spins and twirls and stretches when she attempted a jump, spinning in the air like an angel... and then fell, tumbling onto the ice... and then effortlessly got back up again... and commenced to swirl and twirl and bend and fold her body into beautiful positions while spinning at light speed with divine GRACE, making us realize that we didn't give a flying **** that she had fallen a few seconds earlier. I loved her more than the perfect ones. She showed me the true meaning of life.
Then I rode the bus back home from Hoboken to Manhattan. I was listening to Iron Maiden, having reached the year 2000 on my chronological "my generation" playlist. Next, the song "Farmhouse" by Phish came on right as I saw a sign that said "Burlington." I am going to visit home next week for the first time since Christmas. Only a few more months until the lake.
Dance on the ice and jump even though everyone in the world might see you fall, and get back up again and blow us all away. We'll love you more for it. Trust me. It's more fun to root for the ones who make you wonder if they're ever going to win it, and it's that much more magical when they finally do.
Afterward we watched the Olympics and saw the figure skating portion. We talked about The Beatles and figure skating because my sister was obsessed with both the first time I saw the Winter Olympics, in 1994. I remember pretending to cry about Nancy Kerrigan losing the gold to Oksana Baiul because my sister cared and was crying about it. I also remember seeing an exhbition at Nassau Coliseum where this African-French woman named Surya Bonali did a back flip and a Frenchman named Philippe Canderloro did back-to-back back flips, and being very blown away. I also remember this really cute Japanese woman who finished fourth, Yuka Sato, and seeing her on television in Japan during my first week in Tokyo. We were channel surfing and she just happened to be doing an exhibition, seventeen years later.
We talked a lot about The Beatles and Billy Joel, because the first CD I ever owned and received as a gift was by Billy Joel. I had been bobbing my head to one of his radio songs while riding in the Nissan Quest in Baltimore, and my parents decided to give me his newest album for Christmas that year. Never mind the fact they were giving an album about a mid-life crisis to a 9 year old. Even though I secretly knew The Beatles were better overall, I viciously defended Billy Joel against the attacks of my imposing stubborn older sister, much to the amusement of fellow diners at many a rest area along the eastern seaboard.
We also talked about the first year I cared about sports, because the Olympics were on and the first year I saw the Olympics was also the first year I cared about professional sports. Every team that I seriously honest-to-God rooted for with all my heart finished second that year. That is, with two exceptions. The first was the New York Mets. They were the worst team in baseball, and the first team I seriously followed after becoming a Buffalo Bills fan right before they lost their third straight Super Bowl. The Notre Dame Fighting Irish finished ranked #2 in NCAA football, even though they'd beaten #1 Florida State during the regular season. Then the Buffalo Bills lost their second straight Super Bowl to the Dallas Cowboys, after leading at halftime and beating them in the regular season. The 2 seed Duke Blue Devils, led by #33 Grant Hill, lost the NCAA basketball championship to the 1 seed (and favored) Arkansas Razorbacks by four points. And the New York Knicks lost the NBA Finals, led by #33 Patrick Ewing, to the Houston Rockets. In seven games. After leading 3-2.
But there was one exception. The New York Rangers, my favorite ice hockey team, won the Stanley Cup for the first time in over 50 years. In seven games. Over Vancouver. I had only played ice hockey once at that point, on a pond near my grandfather's house in upstate New York. Pretty much by myself too. I wore their t-shirt in my school picture for seventh grade. I keep that picture in my wallet behind my driver's license so I remember where I came from. I forgot about the symbolism of the Rangers. Also, my cousin's and my grandfather, Ted, was a New York Ranger. Not a hockey player. A real ranger. Although he did play just about every sport.
When my cousin asked me which winter Olympic sport I would choose to play given the chance, I said ice hockey, even though they would all kick my butt in three seconds. I've played it the least out of any of those sports, but it's always been my favorite to play.
After the Rangers I admit that I never really cared about watching hockey. Also, I couldn't even watch that championship live, because we didn't have cable. We heard about it on the news afterward, so we knew when it happened, but it wasn't the same as watching it.
None of my other favorite teams won a championship until I was 16. Duke had already broken my heart two years earlier by blowing the championship against Connecticut, but then they won the NCAA finals against Arizona in 2001. Now that I think of it, I was thinking about that game earlier today for some reason. They had pulled off an insane rally against arch-rival Maryland in the semi-final to make it there. They were down 39-17 in the first half, and I was involved in the school play Anything Goes in the role of a Chinese gambler at the time, and we kept rushing to the rehearsal room in between scenes to get updates on the game, and I got home just in time to see them win and advance to the final, completing one of the greatest comebacks ever. And for the record, Duke does not represent the evil empire, because North Carolina has historically been better, and even had Michael Jordan, and was much better than Duke when I started rooting for Duke, and it took five years of my rooting for them for Duke to become better than North Carolina. Anyway, after Duke won that game, I stopped caring so much about the outcomes of games over which I had absolutely no control, and in the process, appreciating the show taking place in front of me that much more.
When the Red Sox made history by being the first team to come back from a 3-0 series hole against the Yankees in the ALCS baseball playoffs, it was extra magical not only because I detested the Yankees, but because my friend wanted them to win, and it was almost even better to see my friend's team beating the Yankees and ending their curse (which my team, the Mets, had helped to extend) than it would have been to see the Mets doing the same thing. That was years ago, and now I just appreciate the athletic displays of finesse and power, and get pumped up to enjoy my own body's abilities, however long they may stay with me.
Think about this: the two worst teams in football during the first year I watched were the Seattle Seahawks and New England Patriots, both going 2-14 in 1992-93. The Patriots went on to become one of the greatest dynasties in football (even though I hated them and it's been documented that they completely cheated during their championship years) and the Seattle Seahawks are finally the reigning champions, having just dominated Denver.
Anyway, during all of these discussions we saw a woman figure skating in the short program, and she was absolutely boggling our minds with her graceful acrobatic spins and twirls and stretches when she attempted a jump, spinning in the air like an angel... and then fell, tumbling onto the ice... and then effortlessly got back up again... and commenced to swirl and twirl and bend and fold her body into beautiful positions while spinning at light speed with divine GRACE, making us realize that we didn't give a flying **** that she had fallen a few seconds earlier. I loved her more than the perfect ones. She showed me the true meaning of life.
Then I rode the bus back home from Hoboken to Manhattan. I was listening to Iron Maiden, having reached the year 2000 on my chronological "my generation" playlist. Next, the song "Farmhouse" by Phish came on right as I saw a sign that said "Burlington." I am going to visit home next week for the first time since Christmas. Only a few more months until the lake.
Dance on the ice and jump even though everyone in the world might see you fall, and get back up again and blow us all away. We'll love you more for it. Trust me. It's more fun to root for the ones who make you wonder if they're ever going to win it, and it's that much more magical when they finally do.
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