Beyond My Control

Way to go 7

Thursday, 7pm.

Australia is playing Serbia in the first football match of the Olympics.

Turn on ABC radio, get live coverage of the match without ads or breaks.

Turn on the other Official Broadcaster of the Olympics, Channel 7, and what do you get?  Home and Away.  Okay, you think, they're showing it on a slight delay.  But no, they're showing Home and Away for an hour(!) followed by Make Me A Supermodel(!) for another hour, then, perhaps around 9pm, they're going to get around to showing the football.

Do they think this will not be noticed? 

I don't care that much about the Olympics, though I will almost certainly get sucked into them totally.  But this annoys the hell out of me.  Largely because it's not a great portent of things to come.  I can see now that even though the time zone in China is pretty much perfect for us to watch the games during the day and into the evening - as opposed to at 3am - Channel 7 is going to regard that as a hindrance rather than a bonus.  After all, it makes delaying tactics and false live crosses harder to hide or justify, especially when everything is live on the radio.

Not a good start.

Downright Un-Australian

Scene:  First thing Monday morning, an average Melbourne office.

The leader of the Footy Tipping Competition since Round 1 has stumbled for the second week in a row and the office is alive with joy and debate at the newly reinvigorated competition as the leader board bunches up.

Lively conversation about team performances and mathematical permutations of the ladder and the leader board abound, even between those who at the start of the year evidenced no interest whatsoever in football.

Uli smiles to herself at how easy the conversion has been.

Scene: later the same morning, same office.

Staff member appears in the doorway of Uli’s office with a concerned expression and advises that upon going into the utility room for the first time this wintery Monday, she has discovered the lock on the fire proof document safe is broken.

Further examination shows that the safe has been broken into.  Further further examination shows that the back door of the office has also been broken into, though the lock remains intact and none of the rest of the office is disturbed.

The sum total stolen:  the Footy Tipping money.

Bastards.

Sunday, Sunday

Yesterday I bought new running shoes after my old ones ate up one of my heals when I started running again a couple of weeks ago.

It was only after the great Sunday morning heal massacre that I realised I’ve had the old shoes since a year which started with “19” (can you tell I’m an irregular runner?), so perhaps a new pair was not only justified but downright necessary.

Of course, I had to wait for the heal to recover before I could try on new ones. Yesterday, post hairdresser, pre afternoon nap, I wandered into the store, and threw my uneducated self on the mercy of the sales woman. I tried on four pairs, mixed and matched and eventually bought some that felt fine and cushiony and heal friendly and, though price wasn’t really a consideration given I’d had my last pair for so long, not very expensive.

My plan was to make the use of inevitably waking up too early this morning to go and try them out before I was really awake. Which was how I started running again a few weeks back: lord, it’s 6.30 on a Saturday and I am wide awake and cannot get out of my own head, running might be just the stone with which to kill a few birds. My plan was also to go out this morning before it got too hot as we were in for a blast of early summer.

I did wake up too early, of course, but it was to the sound of rain and wind on the windows. Now, two hours later, it’s still grey out, and still raining, though not as windy. It doesn’t really look like shifting even though the radio news assures me that it’s still going to get to 31 today.

I am not convinced.

I have also not been running. In fact, I’m still in bed. The new shoes are still in their box.

Which seems like a much better use of a rainy Sunday morning than getting actual exercise.

Also, I must conclude that the weather is strange. Who the hell has the thunder storm BEFORE the hot day? It’s supposed to be the other way around global warming!

"Celebrity" Watching, the Tennis Edition

Last night at the tennis was fun, if tiring. We were inside and air-conditioned, which was a big help. It was still quite warm, but far more comfortable than it was outside.

I joked to the Boss at one point that Hewitt should just ask to start the match 2 sets and a break down and he would be more comfortable and it would make the evening a lot shorter for everyone.

The match actually finished a little after 1am, though I bailed shortly after midnight and finished watching the game at home. (The power had been out at home long enough during the afternoon that a complete reprogramming of the VCR was required, but the veges seemed to survive the second fridge shutdown in twenty-four hours.)

By accident rather than design our seats – which were fabulous – were basically two seats over from the player's box, so we were up close and personal with the “celebrity” contingent. About which I have the following comments.

Bec Hewitt (former soap actress, wife of Lleyton): Needs a sandwich desperately. Very tanned, very thin, very glittery with diamonds (though not in a too over the top way, just enough to be noticeable), good hair. I, and everyone else, could snap her and her sternum like a twig that’s been out in the sun a long time. Signed autographs happily in each change of ends and showed no signs of distress even when hubby was in the two sets down hole.

Simone Warne (on-again, off-again wife of cricketer Shane Warne, owner of some sort of television presenter/tabloid magazine contributor career by virtue of the off-again portion of their relationship): Also very small and very tanned. And I’m not going with that whole “reverted to her maiden name” thing because her wedding and rock-like engagement rings were prominent. She was there in Alicia Molik’s box with her two daughters, and aside from the small and tanned thing, was pretty much just like any other Mum wrangling her well-behaved kids.

Dave Hughes (stand up comedian, radio presenter): Scruffy looking in a more appealing way than he’s even been on TV. Just one of the guys, left early presumably to go to work in the morning.

Liz Ellis (Australian Netball captain): Tall and exactly the same as on TV. All the netballers sitting in front of us were unreasonably tall, but laid-back and seemed to be having a good time.

We noted that Hewitt’s new coach, Scott Draper (pro tennis player and pro golfer), obviously hasn’t been fully indoctrinated into Camp Hewitt yet. Unlike the rest of the box, he still claps occasionally when Hewitt’s opponent hits a good shot…

Summer Begins!

Ah, summer is here!

Sure, the Spring Racing Carnival doesn’t finish until tomorrow, but today I can sit in my office with the sun pouring in the windows and turn on the radio and listen to the cricket. It’s only the PM’s 11 match, but it’s still the first definitive sign of summer.

The Plus and the Minus…

…of a day spent mostly at home waiting for and with tradesmen.

+ new exhaust fan installed in the bathroom: shower now steam-free

- in course of installing fan, bathroom light globe, which is of course a strange fitting size and type which neither I nor the local supermarket had in stock, blew: steam-free shower in the dark

+ washing machine fixed!

- only enough washing powder left for one wash, only discovered after had been to the supermarket on unsuccessful light globe hunting mission

+ worked for home most of day

- said work was shitty, interrupted and the “from home” portion of the day took at least three hours longer than planned

- the electician didn't take credit cards

+ I still own a cheque book and could even find it

+ no extra amount on the credit card bill

- no money in cheque account, necessitating waiting for the electrician to turn the power back on so I could hook up the modem and go online and move money around to cover the cheque I was writing

- now entirely cash-challenged until next pay day, almost 2 weeks from now

+ despite work being shitty and mind being unfocused between work, light globes, washing machines and a generally mixed up day, I actually managed to go to sleep around midnight

+/- because of work being shitty and mind being unfocused between work, light globes, washing machines and a generally mixed up day, I managed to wake up just into the second half of Australia v Italy, which I’d told myself I’d get up for if I woke up, but otherwise would forgo for the much needed sleep

- *&!)*&(*@#^&^$!!!! 2 flipping seconds, that’s all we asked for, 2 flipping seconds. %@*(#$&$ referees!

+ one long-running annoying work thing went away this morning, unexpectedly

- this does not cancel out the new annoying thing that came up yesterday

+ at least I’m at my desk to deal with it today

- I still have to find time to get away from my desk to hunt down a strangely shaped light globe

= Yay, grrrr, yay, grrrr, bloody referee!

Sometimes getting up at 5am is worth it

It was a nail-biting, at times odd, at times thrilling match with a final ten minutes of complete and utter chaos, but the Socceroos are through to the round of 16! Woo hoo!

Bring on Italy! (And Mark Schwarzer.)

And there goes our excuse to slack off at work

Having commented on the Opening Ceremony of the Commonwealth Games, I must comment on the Closing. Not least because I was there. Thanks to some last minute, and free, tickets.

We had a good time. Especially as we didn’t pay for the tickets. If I’d paid for the tickets I would have been disappointed.

The things that were the most fun were the things that make Melbourne Melbourne. And I don’t mean footballers. I mean that:

- the program sellers on the way in, all 500,000 of them, were spruiking their hearts out with appropriate levity: “Come on, did you see the opening ceremony, did you get what was happening with that duck? You know you need a program to have any idea what’s going on!”

- the biggest cheer of the night was for the new cult hero of Melbourne, our Lord Mayor John So. And that cheer happened every single time his name was mentioned. Why is that so Melbourne? Because the games organisers and the State government had tried to elbow him out of the proceedings, and we like nothing better than an underdog here

- the third biggest cheer came when the names of the countries were read out and they got to “Sierra Leone”. With the understanding and sympathy of most (except the immigration department), half the Sierra Leone team disappeared from the Village and went into hiding, planning on seeking asylum, part way through the games. So naturally we love them here

However, all of that was crowd generated. Of the show itself?

- if the section at the end is meant to be a party for the athletes, why did they wheel in John Farnham? Sure, he generated some noise, but I think the organisers were seriously over-estimating the average age of the athletes (hint, it’s not over 45). We have concluded that had Kylie not been sick, she would have been a shoo-in for the job, but in her absence they went with a semi-retired, increasingly rotund, aging pop singer. He did a good job, but those songs are at least 20 years old

- they also only turned up the volume for old whispering Jack. Paul Kelly, Grinspoon and Ben Lee could really have done with an equality of volume

- as much fun as all the 1000 Edna Everage clones were, why build your ceremony around someone who is only available via satellite?

- as for the performance pieces, someone in the paper this morning used the words “high school Rock Eisteddfod”, and I’d have to say that those words sum it up perfectly

- the performance of the Indian delegation promoting the Delhi 2010 games really rather showed us up

All that being said, the weather was brilliant (it’s Melbourne at the end of March and I was sitting outside at 10.30 at night not even remotely needing a long-sleeved top), and those fireworks were pretty damn amazing. Especially when you’re sitting under them, with them criss-crossing the roof of the stadium.

In short, the city itself rocks, the ceremony itself, not so much.

The third in a series of random comments for a Monday morning

While I’m generally a sports nut, I’m not a huge basketball fan. However when I was last in LA a couple of years ago my old roommate Grier, who has season tickets, took me back to my alma mater for a Bruins game. We had a fantastic time, and not only because we were reliving our glory days on campus. All of which leads me to say: Go, Bruins, go! Final four!

(And my celebration of this is especially large given the dismal performance of the Kings in the second half of the season – and no, I don’t care that they won over the weekend. Too little, too late boys.)

I could have done without the avant-garde koalas

Another international event, another “spectacular” opening ceremony.

Now, the Commonwealth Games are no Olympics, but this is one of the most sports event proud cities in the world and as much as it pains my pure Melburnian heart to say it: this was nowhere near as good as Sydney’s opening ceremony.

The Good:

- The use of the river, so that everyone in the city could watch part of the ceremony and have different things going on from what was in the stadium.

- The flying tram, Melbourne grid map and fan-faring conductors. Interesting, bright, very Melbourne, simple enough to follow.

- The choice of music. Old rock in the form of The Church, new alternative in the form of The Cat Empire, new schmaltz pop in the form of Delta Goodrem, classics in the form of Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, some symphonic and choral bits and pieces, and the crowd.

- The entry of the athletes, all bright and apparently having a good time.

- The fireworks.

The Bad:

- The useless koala “rescue” teams coming and failing to rescue the boy.

- The boy being stranded in the first place.

- The apparent necessity of putting everyone on wires doing somersaults in the sky.

- The fireworks out of skaters arses, particularly as the resulting smoke so completely blanketed Delta I’m surprised she could sing (and I’m not even a fan). Obviously, I’m not the only one who had that thought.

- Happy Birthday to the Queen. I’d rather they sang the whole of God Save the Queen, it would have been more appropriate.

The Meh:

- Bikers and ballerinas. Pretty enough, but how exactly did it relate to Melbourne, the Games or anything else?

- The boy and the duck. Okay, Leunig, I get that, but putting him in everything and real and fake ducks and blah, blah, blah. Well, blah.

- The baton relay once in the stadium. Predictable. I actually liked the use of the footballers on the river (though those poor guys having to walk on those pontoons, we’re lucky we didn’t have a captain in the water), but Freeman to Clarke to Jackson-Nelson to Landy was entirely unspectacular. Though it is telling that the last two runners were both athletics legends and State Governors. We like our sports people here.