Abby vs. Gabby: On the American Sportswoman

We’ve spent a lot of time over the past week discussing the Summer Olympics and with last night’s Closing Circus Ceremonies in London we could spend a few hundred more words deriding the final festivities – and such chastising would be much deserved – but we think we did enough of that on Twitter.  Instead, we’d like to spend our respective closing ceremony considering the female athlete in the United States, and we’d like to do so, in unorthodox fashion, with the minimum amount of snark.

During these 2012 Olympic Games we couldn’t help but be struck by the sheer dominance of the USA women – from gymnastics to swimming to soccer to beach volleyball to basketball – and how much our females have moved to the forefront of international competition.  Indeed, we heard a fact – perhaps it was from Bob Costas, the Walter Cronkite of the Olympics – that if the United States women comprised a separate country they would place third in the gold medal count.  Third.  Which is a stunning stat, and should motivate the men (with a few exceptions, including Michael Phelps, David Boudia and the men’s basketball team) to extend a hearty thank you and congratulations and maybe even get down on their knees and propose.  But beyond the magnitude of their achievement, the success of the USA women got us thinking about the state of women’s sports in America, how we got here, where it’s going, and, most especially, which female gold medalist do little girls today want to be when they grow up.

More: Abby or Gabby?

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Filed under Across the pond, Makes You Think, Matt Christopher Books, Yasmine Bleeth, You Decide

Parting Shot: Got Melk?

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Does a body good?

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Filed under Parting Shot, The Sixth Taste

EXCLUSIVE: The Glasses that Bob Costas Will Be Wearing Tonight

Last night Bob Costas caused quite a stir when he debuted a new pair of eyeglasses while anchoring NBC’s prime time coverage of the London Olympics.  Whether he was trying to appeal to that all important Williamsburg demographic or wearing them to honor famed Liverpudlians or trying to impress the makeup girl or just plain didn’t bring enough Acuvues to last two weeks is up for debate.  Either way, it was quite the statement.

However, Jumped the Snark has obtained an exclusive photo of Costas with the glasses he will wear during tonight’s telecast.  Obviously he expects the Americans to clinch the medal count today, and it seems he’s all too happy to finally dispense with all this impartial journalist nonsense.

USA! USA! USA!

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Filed under Fashion Show at Lunch, MS Paint

And the Gold Medal for Most Awkward Pound Explosion Goes to….

Kristine Lilly and Kate Markgraf from the United States!

Do you see how you just embarrassed Liam McHugh?  On national TV!

Ladies, just not the right time for this.  In fact, there’s never a right time for a televised pound explosion.  It only looks cool when our three your old niece does it (and sometimes when we do it.  Sometimes).  The worst part is that you clearly discussed it beforehand.  The only thing worse than a spontaneous televised pound explosion?  A rehearsed pound explosion.

Note: This is the only acceptable handshake suitable for broadcast:

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Filed under Huh?, Jump Streets Ahead

Belated In Memorium: Donald J. Sobol AKA a Requiem for Encyclopedia Brown

We like to fancy ourself as an amateur detective.  If someone loses their keys, we’re on the case.  If someone is being evasive about whom they went to dinner with last Sunday night, we get to the bottom of it.  If there’s an email address to be found by scouring pages of Google results, we’re going to find it.  If we spend a week in Aruba, we fully believe that we’re going to solve a high-profile, lingering unsolved murder.  In many cases we’re successful, in some cases we’re not (the latter, in particular, which is still keeping us up nights).  But that inquisitive, investigator spirit stays with us, and it’s been with us since childhood.  If you asked us at eight-years-old what we wanted to be when we grew up we’d say “baseball player” or “movie writer.”  Definitely one of those two.  But “detective” would have won the bronze, which is why in 9th grade we did a future career report on “FBI Agent” and nearly began working part-time for a private investigator a few months after college (it occurs to us now that we would be especially unsuited for that role, our small bladder no doubt serving as a hinderance during long stakeouts).  It’s perhaps why we fell so in love with Veronica Mars (the show and the character), and spent so many hours as a child in our grandma’s basement using her office supplies and copy machine (or “photostat,” as she so adorably referred to it) to assemble fake case files, pretending that stamping a folder “PAID” was equivalent to “CASE CLOSED,” and  fabricating evidence out of Xerox copies of our tiny hands and face and randomly scribbling with mechanical pencils.  We were a junior Sam Spade, a soft-boiled detective, solving the case of the missing ping-pong paddle with a Bachman’s pretzel rod dangling casually from our lips instead of a lean Marlboro, a tumbler of Pepsi with crushed ice instead of a stiff whiskey on the rocks.

And what does any of this have to do with Encyclopedia Brown? Read on for the solution…

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Filed under In Memoriam, Literarally, Mars Investigations, Nostalgia Corner

On the Olympics: Testing Our Medal

We’ve recently returned from a week-long sojourn to a tropical paradise, and thus were unable to commit the 10-12 hours a day we hoped watching the NBC Networks Olympic coverage of events like water polo, handball, indoor volleyball, ping-pong (sorry, table tennis), field hockey and trap shooting.  We were, however, able to catch part of NBC’s prime time telecasts, the carefully cultivated, perfectly orchestrated alchemy of prestigious events of which the Americans just happen to win the majority.  And if you think watching NBC’s tape delay broadcasts here in America is tough, try doing it twenty miles (or was it kilometers?) from Venezuela.

Upset about the admittedly completely unnecessary and pedantic Mary Carillo explains London segments? Fine.  But better than coverage not starting til 9pm EST and then finding the telecast constantly interrupted by an unknown Aruban man in a desolate, sad locker room set, serving as something of a local Bob Costas amid open lockers and prop gym bags.  Even worse is that these interstitials preempted the commercials.  The Olympics is the Super Bowl of commercials.  Normally we’d prefer to fast-forward right through all of them, but if we had our choice of watching a random guy pontificate about Michael Phelps in Papiamento or watching every single McDonald’s commercial, we’d choose the latter.  At least the second option gives us a the chance for a sports celebrity cameo, or a catchy jingle, or, God willing, a new Happy Meal Toy.  Or we could just use that time to visit the bathroom or get a snack, but, instead, while Aruban Bob Costas chats with the small island’s foremost track and field expert, we flip over to Lifetime to see if Forrest Gump is still on, not sure how long this detour from London is going to last (which, we admit, is a very specific experience, so we apologize if this particular situation does not apply to you).

Okay, so we’re exaggerating here.  It really wasn’t that bad.  But neither is watching the main events on tape delay here in the contiguous US of A, despite all the caustic vitriol  spat at NBC over its delayed gratification approach to the games.  What the people who level all the criticism at NBC for withholding the most interesting (to Americans) events til after 8pm (and, really, til 11pm) don’t seem to consider, or put much stock in to, is that most Americans (save for those who are currently employed and spend most of their day watching Razon Ramon documentaries producing high quality journalism and insightful media criticism), aren’t home at 2pm to watch the entirety of the Tween Women’s Uneven Bars final.  That doesn’t mean that NBC couldn’t cling to journalistic integrity, demonstrate a responsibility to delivering unfiltered, untainted Olympics coverage, and air the whole event live.  But then what?  Rebroadcast it again later?  In its entirety?  Or in repeats is it permissible to edit the events down?  And does NBC, even with its seemingly infinite cadre of cable channels, have the airtime to show the same competition twice?  On the other hand, if they air everything in real-time, what does NBC show in prime-time?  Grimm repeats?  Rock Center: Live from Westminster Abbey?  Start the Tonight Show three hours early?  No.  Make no mistake, NBC has not spent billions of dollars securing the rights to the Olympics to present sports in the most comprehensive, informative, honest and fan-friendly way.  They’re in it for the same reason ESPN is (despite what its acronym might imply), to make gobs and boatloads and gobloads of money.  Let’s not forget that.

And let’s not hold that against them.  For NBC, the Olympics is a two-week-long special edition of America’s Got Talent (Phelps, Gabby Douglas, Missy Franklin) and The Biggest Loser (Mckayla Maroney, any country other than the USA).  It’s the marketing push Whitney really needed.  And to suggest that NBC has some responsibility to the American citizen not to present the most popular events in the most melodramatic, heavily-edited, Al Trautwig-hosted, Cinderella-story way is silly, and, really, hypocritical.  Yank all 10pm dramas in favor of Jay Leno, shame on NBC.  Expect NBC not to value Olympic ratings above all else, shame on you.

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Filed under Across the pond, Analysis, Be careful what you wish for, Matt Christopher Books, Must See TV

Parting Shot: Say Teas!

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Now make like a tea and leave.

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Filed under Local Flavor, Parting Shot

Tyler the Destroyer: Steven Announces Retirement from ‘American Idol’

Everyone is reporting on this, so we will too, even though getting emotionally invested in Steven Tyler leaving American Idol to focus on Aerosmith and kicking ass making no sense is just as silly as getting emotionally invested in Steven Tyler leaving Aerosmith to focus on American Idol and kicking ass making no sense.  But Tyler leaves a big, scarf shaped hole to fill, and it will be hard for Idol to find a replacement who looks so much like our mom and dresses so much like our grandma.

But, more importantly, it leaves Randy, once again, without one of his dawgs.  He had so much admiration for Steven too.

At this point Fox should just combine Idol with Kids Say the Darndest Things and call it a day.

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Filed under All the sudden I could really go for a Coke

Happy Birthday, 7-Eleven!

Today is one of the greatest of all the non-denomination global holidays: 7/11, the self-proclaimed birthday of 7-Eleven,  also known to many  as Free Slurpee Day.  Perhaps other than New Years Eve, no day is celebrated more widely across the globe, from New York City to Singapore, from Toronto to Taipei.  Nothing brings the citizens of Earth together like a free 7.11 oz helping of pina colada flavored frozen sugar, especially as we enter the dog days of summer.  Many years ago we produced a video of die-hard 7-Eleven fans in cities around the world talking about their love of all things Slurpee, and we present this to you on this day, the day of 7-Eleven’s birthday.

So have fun out there, guys, and enjoy your complimentary somewhat frozen beverages.  Just remember: no wheezing the juice, and if you insist on having an all-syrup Slurpee, make sure you pair up with a buddy.

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Filed under Count Bleh, Lady Holiday, The Sixth Taste

Burger Prince: Fielder Once Again Wears the Crown; Plus a Requiem for Rock N’ Jock Softball

Last night Prince Fielder became only the second player to win the MLB Home Run Derby twice, equaling the feat achieved by Ken Griffey, Jr (whose success in the event can no doubt be attributed to the freedom to wear his Mariners cap in his preferred backwards position, enlivening him and providing optimal comfort in the batter’s box).  The derby itself, taking place at the Kansas City ballpark that most of  the country just learned is named Kauffman Stadium, was an interminable display that painfully reflected the American ideal of bigger is better, an incessant cacophony of  bombastic, intolerable, verging on nauseating home run calls (the half-life on Chris Berman’s “back, back, back, back….GONE!” is exactly two).  Three hours into it, and there we still were for some reason, watching Prince Fielder and runner-up Jose Bautista tee-off on meatballs lobbed in by AARP-card carrying batting practice pitchers (or, in Robinson Cano’s case, disappointed fathers).  One can only watch baseballs be launched into centerfield fountains so many times before the tweens earnestly but unsuccessfully shagging pop flies quickly become vastly more entertaining.  We freely admit that there was a time when we were once highly engaged in the Home Run Derby.  But now, what we wouldn’t give for Roger McDowell and a cow in right field.

But it wasn’t just our yearning for something more exciting and less vacant that reminded us of MTV’s Rock N’ Jock Softball.  We couldn’t help watch Prince Fielder deposit ball after ball into the right field stands and not remember first seeing him as a young boy accompanying his father Cecil “Big Daddy” Fielder at those true mid-summer classics.  Unfortunately, as Grantland notes in its superb primer on the halcyon days of Rock N’ Jock, video of those games is stunningly difficult to find online.  You can spot Cecil in the starting lineup during the Star Spangled Banner in one of the earlier match-ups, but that’s about it.  Other than that brief appearance, tragically, there’s no video evidence that Cecil was a Salamander or an Aardvark, let alone any footage from those MTV broadcasts that show a young baseball prodigy named Prince, and we’re all losers for it.

However, there is some proof of Prince’s early talent.  However, this phenom ability was found in throwing a baseball, not sending it 440 feet with a Louisville Slugger, as illustrated by this 1992 McDonald’s commercial with Cecil.

Although Prince is on the other side of the ball in this commercial he still comes out on top.  Burger royalty then, baseball royalty now.

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Filed under Count Bleh, Matt Christopher Books, Nostalgia Corner, TV Killed the Music Video Star