"Color’s got just about nothing to do with it, bro," writes Post blogger about white players in the NBA. "Except for this weird high-def thing happening to basketball in the United States, a phenomenon there for all to see during the 2008 National Basketball Association (NBA) playoffs. The latest league tagline—“Where Amazing Happens”—actually describes the most amazing thing: in the NBA, the appearance of white players in every village and town.... These white players are not the traditional fill-in-the-blank tomato cans, the token towel-waving 12th men that NBA franchises have been famous for. Every one of them either starts for their team or plays significant minutes."
University of Texas freshperson and Aspen native Kristin Walla, a Post blogger, braved hometown spring conditions during the NCAA Championships.
The Snowmass Recreation Center hosts a clinic on the fine art and science of kayaks--so you don't flop when the kayaks flip. Time to get wet behind the ears, nose, and threat.
Posts filed under 'Sports'
In the interests of full disclosure I first have to say Theatre Aspen is a sponsor of my "Con Games" radio show and so I am predisposed to like what I see. But I should also point out that no one bemoaned the loss of former artistic director David McClendon any more than me--he was both a friend also a person who I believe lifted the company out of the primordial ooze. Loving Theatre Aspen without my good friend around has been a monumental task: this town has not been the same for me since he left.
With disclosure in the books and off my chest, I can also say--based on performances of "Little Shop of Horrors" and the premier of "Rounding Third" Thursday night under the tent in Rio Grande Park--that Theatre Aspen is on the way to something special under artistic director Paige Price in the continuing evolution of what used to be an off-the-beaten-track venue for community theatre in the valley.
Continue Reading July 10th, 2008
There is something about the name Cape Foulweather that fascinates me. My mind races with thoughts ranging from the history of the area and wanting to know the facts, to images of a full length feature film of mystery and suspense starring Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino and Jack Nicholson. I wish there was an actual town of Cape Foulweather. I would consider renting a house there while I wait to purchase my sloop or ketch.
The name itself, Cape Foulweather, doesn’t bring the idea of a warm sunny day to the average tourist. The truth is that Captain James Cook discovered and named the Point in 1778 when he first sighted the mainland of North America on the Oregon Coast, and one of the sudden fierce storms, which greeted his arrival, almost put an end to his historical expedition. Captain Cook never set foot on land at Cape Foulweather and couldn’t wait for the storm to pass so he could set sail again and leave this area. I have just the opposite draw to Cape Foulweather, even if there are winds up to 100 mph a few times each year.
I leaped at the opportunity to sail to the Point after we scrapped the idea of our Wednesday Night Regatta in Yaquina Bay in Newport, Oregon when there wasn’t even the slightest hope of a breeze strong enough to fill the sails for us to race. We placed our bets on the wind currents out at sea, as unpredictable as they always are, once we left the bay under power and raised the sails heading north a few miles to Cape Foulweather. The sea was as flat as I have ever seen it. Barely a ripple slapped against the boat. We were under power while we tried to catch some wind. Finally a whisper of wind became just strong enough for us to cut the engine and use full sails. It was slow going and unusually quiet. Seagulls were passing us the way a Lamborghini zips past a Geo Metro with an 8 watt blow dryer motor.
It was a short trip, even at our slow pace, but it was enough time spent on the sea to remind me that I don’t really care much about regattas and racing as much as I do spending quiet time in reverie on the sailboat. Since 1965 I have had my share of fast cars. But that’s another story for another blog. Boats are in a different category for me when it comes to speed and purpose.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m older, wiser, and no longer in a hurry for my days to pass by quickly. Time seems to stand still when I’m sailing. I forget that there is already an influx of tourist traffic on Hwy 101. I don’t think about how long it takes me to drive home from Newport to Lincoln City. The sun doesn’t set until after 9pm here in the Pacific Northwest. It isn’t dark until well after 10pm, so my days are longer and my nights are very short. I don’t get much sleep and I can use all the siesta time kicking back on the boat, listening to a sail flap when it loses its wind now and then, and I have to do some quick tacking to avoid turning the engine back on.
One of my co-workers who has been sailing for over 25 years here told me he became a little bored with sailing. He said, “What can you do? You leave the bay, you go straight for a little while, then you either turn left or turn right. There’s nowhere to go.” I reminded him that it’s not the destination that matters. It’s the journey. Even if that journey only takes you a few miles to the left or the right. It’s a journey filled with valuable time that rejuvenates the heart and soul of expatriated Woody Creek dreamers like me.
July 2nd, 2008
In part two of today's festivities, the Con Man interviews the Cancer Babes, the co-founders of Pathfinders, Tina Staley and Kristin McDermott, about the roots and purpose of the organization dedicated to helping cancer survivors deal.
In part one, the Con Man asks why white (American) men can't jump, and then wonders out loud about the new news of "prison ships" and why Americans are so indifferent to tortue committed in the name of the red-white-and-blue.
Continue Reading June 2nd, 2008
Unlike Catholic priests in Barack Obama’s old-school neighborhood church, the true sports fan is all but color-blind—a state the sporting literati might call purblind in hopes of turning a phrase.
If you loved the old New York Knicks it was purely because of the way they played, not because Bill Bradley was a Rhodes Scholar whitey from Princeton, or Willis Reed, the captain, earned his all-blacks at Grambling. Even though players post-Jordan have brought more blacknuss into the league—yo, Alan Iverson—the true fan truly appreciates the likes of A.I. for his mo’ better hustle and durability, not for his corn rows and too-many tatoos.
Color’s got just about nothing to do with it, bro.
Continue Reading June 2nd, 2008
Click here for the complete "Con Games with Michael Conniff" for Monday April 14, 2008.
The Con Man opines as to why the greatest player in the history of golf can't come from behind in a Major when trailing after 54 holes. Also: what's all the hubbub about Obama's "bitter" comments--and why we should care barely at all.
April 14th, 2008
Why is there always a bandwagon leap of arrogance and hypocrisy when the Olympics roll around? It seems one or more countries have a group of activists who have been training almost as long as the athletes themselves when it comes to diverting the attention of the Games to a political arena, if not a self-indulgent one for their own agendas.
As a former Olympic hopeful, spending six years on the United States Shooting Team traveling around the world to compete, I get a little irascible when the talk turns to boycotting the Olympic Games. Why isn’t the boycott a daily issue with everyone who feels it necessary to disrupt the Olympics, directed toward nearly every retailer in the country who offers goods made in China? Where are the demonstrations at the doors of Wal-Mart or Dell Computers?
Everyday in this country millions of people are spending money on toothpaste, pet food, laptop computers, Black and Decker tools, clothing, toys, baby strollers, cosmetics, electronics and more; all made in China, and yet without any fuss or hesitancy whether they are sanctioning China’s actions by making their purchases. So why are the Olympic Games the biggest attention getter for the boycotters? How will a boycott affect American companies operating in China? Wouldn’t we be shooting ourselves in the foot?
President Bush boycotting the opening ceremonies would be the same as any of us attending a birthday party for someone, but refusing to eat the cake because you don’t agree with the person’s politics. Isn’t this where the phrase ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it too’ came from? If not, perhaps it should have new meaning now.
I disagree with the idea of boycotting the Games. I am not naïve enough to wax poetic on the main purpose of the Games as ‘competing in harmony and peace with all nations, setting aside our personal beliefs for sixteen days.’ There are too many people with their hands in the coffer for that kind of simple certainty. I do believe though that each athlete should have their chance at competing, no matter where the Games are held or what that country has done to another. I believe that Tibet should have its freedom and independence, and no longer suffer from the inhumane treatment of China. But boycotting the Olympics isn’t going to change one damn thing for Tibet. Thinking it will is foolish.
Bill Clinton gave (i.e. sold) China permanent favored nation trading status. Will a boycott of any kind for any duration change any of that? Of course it won’t. So just exactly who would be affected by a boycott? Most certainly the athletes who have trained for years for this one chance will be affected. Did our boycott of the 1980 Olympics in Moscow cause the fall of USSR eleven years later?
My advice is this: boycott on an individual level if you feel strongly about an Olympic boycott. If you want to try to change the ways of China, try to find a retailer who does not offer even one item in their store with a Made In China tag on it. Good luck with that. Buy Only American. Block NBC from your remote control. Send Bill Clinton an “Up Yours” card on recycled paper made in America from trees clear-cut in Oregon.
Can you see the futility in a 16-day action that revolves around the Olympics?
Let the Games begin.... without the disruption of politics. Wouldn't that be a nice vision for a brief sixteen days?
Waiting reluctantly on the beach of Lincoln City, Oregon...
April 13th, 2008
For more than a decade, Bob and Tish Lockard have inspired the children of the Roaring Fork Valley by teaching the discipline of alpine ski racing through the Buddy Werner program at Sunlight Mountain Resort. That’s right. Slalom, Giant Slalom, and Super Giant Slalom, served up on a palette of genuine enthusiasm designed to appeal to children ages 5 to 95. While most Buddy Werner participants are children ages 5 to 12, Bob and Tish have made Sunlight’s Buddy Werner program an art—a way for willing parents to actively participate in teaching their children to ski. While the focus of the Buddy Werner program may be ski racing, I find myself one of the fortunate few who have learned that where Bob and Tish are concerned, the only real metric is helping a child find self-worth and confidence through skiing.
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Continue Reading March 16th, 2008
Max Werdenigg, Edelwiser skis: These independent labels in skiing—I really like the idea. Every ski has its own personality. When we build skis we put our soul in it. That’s more and more important in our society. The masses grow to a point where you lose the individual part of one’s self. Now you can design your own Porsche—everyone’s going to mass customization. They talk at MIT about mass customization. Some scientists say it’s a pretty young field. Finally we’ve got a case study.
Continue Reading February 13th, 2008
So absorbed was I in my thoughts, I only partially heard the harsh crackling of nearby brush and breaking limbs. But what happened next brought me leaping to my feet and turned my blood to ice. The journal fell from my hands.
Terrifying roars and bellows filled the air, and sounds of snapping limbs echoed across the river. Whatever it was, it was BIG--and the battle was being joined.
"What the hell was that?" Rex shouted, dropping his pan and scrambling out of the water.
"I'm not sure," I said, as he stopped beside me, breathing hard.
"I don't think we should wait around," Rex said--and at that moment a bull moose stumbled into view, head erect and blood blackening on his torn shoulder. He lowered his rack, as an enormous grizzly rushed at him and swatted the antlers aside. The grizzly charged with his thick neck lowered and extended, and his jaws opened wide as he lunged for the moose's throat. Somehow, the moose avoided the grizzly's teeth, and dug in his haunches so that the muscles in his legs were cable-tight. He countered with a lunge at the bear's chest. Horn ripped through his brown hide, hit bone--and the grizzly roared, but the killing lust was on him...
Continue Reading February 2nd, 2008
I quit skiing altogether back in the early 90s, mainly because fly fishing was so much more cost effective. Then I had kids. As if children weren’t expensive enough, we enrolled them in ski lessons. Now, I’m sitting on a hotel-room bed in Leadville next to a slumbering eleven-year-old who is comatose with the exhaustion of skiing two Super Giant Slalom training runs, and one race. It’s good he’s asleep, for there’s another training run and two more races first thing in the morning.
Continue Reading January 26th, 2008
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