Olympic Coverage vs Carnage

The Olympics are incredible; they’re like an All-Star Game with passion, a fast-forward passed the Regular Season deep into the Playoffs, a World Championships back to back to back to back… By Day-2 I was hooked.





I was watching sports I knew nothing about, that I hadn’t seen since the last Olympics, and I was loving it. First it was the Moguls; I couldn’t get enough of the speed and the aerials and the fact that although they were wearing essentially the same equipment I own, it wasn’t anything close to Jack-on-skis.




When Short Track came on, my first thought was ‘this isn’t Moguls’, followed by ‘these idiots just do cross-overs and are only turning in one direction’; half way through the first heat, hooked. There was the finesse and Parkour-style agility of Figure Skating, the sheer power of Long Track, the insanity of the Ski Jumpers, and I was getting trapped watching all of it.



When Biathlon came on, I had no idea it would become my new favourite concept; cross-country skiing, which already is in good standing with me thanks to Roger Moore’s 007, and effing guns! I want in on this action. And oddly enough, when there were no guns, I was still on the edge of my seat. These skiers are such warriors that by the time they cross the finish, all they can do is collapse into a heaping pile of athlete. The hockey was an obvious favouirte, and I don’t think anyone can watch the Flying Tomato in the half pipe and not be in total awe.



Don't even get me started on the Boarder Cross, is there anything
more entertaining than high speed riding down a course full of heavy turns and big jumps? Sure there is, just cram 3 more boarders on to the course and tell them the race is on. For heaven sakes I was watching multiple matches of curling.

How do they do it? How can these games keep me from sleeping and eating, distract me from my own life, suck me into a marathon of sporting gluttony? I’ll tell you how, with all their Awesomeness. It’s simply a highlight reel of The Best of The Best in everything Winter Sport. Every day history is surprising us, and it’s hard not to want to watch it unfold. Unless of course it’s Women’s Down Hill.

I don’t know if it was the layout of the track, the conditions of the snow, or the small glitch in the minds of the skiers that drive them to plummet down a mountain of ice as fast as they can, but something was causing chaos. It was crash after crash. Girls were soaring over rises and smashing themselves into a yard sale on the ground. There were accidents within seconds of leaving the gate, within sight of the finish, and everywhere in between. I felt like I was watching an episode of Jackass that had collided with a Guinness Records Book. The time finally came when I couldn’t handle the hurt any longer and needed an escape. The Olympics had finally beat me, and I needed to turn it off. But I couldn’t just unplug, I had to wash away the darkness and destruction of the corpse covered course, I had to lighten the mood, I had to escape the carnage; so I turned to Showtime’s blood-spatter expert and Killer of Serial Killers extraordinaire, Dexter. It was perfect. Note to self, when the Olympics become too intense, it's time to turn to R rated fiction.

So I have learned two or three things since the start of Vancouver 2010:

1) there is such thing as too much Olympics
2) my capacity for interest is not limited to what I know or what I am familiar with
3) Dexter is good, very good.

I say ‘two or three things’ because I am not sure if item one has totally sunk in yet, since I returned to Olympic coverage after the episode of Dex ended… and now, I can’t wait for Super G.

TV Time Tangle

In most cases ‘Live’ is live enough. Canada takes on Norway in Vancouver and the only price I have to pay to watch from the comfort of my own home is 3 to 5 seconds of delay. Its mind boggling that I can turn on my television and have my own personal window looking into the arena, hundreds of miles away. It’s a perfect connection, linking me to every exciting moment of the game. A near perfect connection.





I’m at home, comfortable, relaxed, enjoying Iggy’s Goal-Light threepeat, loving Canada’s four-line balance, anticipating the victory, and hoping for Luongo to get the Shhhhhhhhhh. I’m in a good place. The camera cuts to a shot of team Canada’s strategists; the men behind the men behind the men. Up at the press box level, above the rink, the likes of Stevie Y, and Kevin Lowe look down at a strong introduction to what all of Canada hopes will be a golden tournament. Then I notice the television hiding in the upper corner of the box, behind the panel of architects; the screen suddenly changes to show the image I was looking at, the image of Stevie, Kevin, and the gang. The delay, of course. And then disaster struck; the delay was too much for me to handle.


My mind tried to keep up with the gymnastics of the whole scene: So, what I’m watching is a few seconds late, it’s already happened, which means I am looking into the past. But then that means that the TV in my TV is also a few seconds delayed and is also a window into the past. This then makes the space between the TVs a sort of limbo, representing what is perceived as the present. My mind faltered and hit the reset: Steve Yzerman when viewed through my screen is a few seconds in the past, but then once the TV behind him changes images (to show the same Steve Yzerman I was looking at a few seconds ago), the Yzerman in my TV becomes the future to the TV behind him, which now shows him in the past. So if I look passed the Yzerman that is supposed to be my present (which is in the past), and look at the Yzerman in the TV in my TV (which shows the present I had been looking at a few seconds ago), I am looking at an Yzerman that is both present and past, while being the future of the Yzerman behind him (who had been my present and past a few seconds earlier). If that wasn’t enough, I then realized that the TV in my TV had a TV in it that was just about to reveal a new Steve Yzerman. And behind this 3rd Stevie Y, yet another TV. Before my eyes the past, present, and future were crisscrossing and tangling themselves in a disastrous mess somewhere in my mind. I quickly changed the channel, and tried not to throw up.




In the end Canada won 8-0, Steve Yzerman escaped the time trap, and I promptly forgot everything my mind had tried to understand. In most cases ‘Live’ is live enough, in some cases it’s a big pain in the ass.

Neil's a Strange Dude...

During these 21st Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver, some elite athletes didn't get the call. Here is one of those diamonds in the rough...

Spoiler Alert! If you are a diehard follower of the reality series 'Neil Webb', be warned, the following reveals some serious plot points with plenty of rich character development. With that said, I don't think seeing this video is going to ruin the show, or even satisfy you appetite for the weird and wonderful world of this Webb. The video will however unlock some juicy mysteries surrounding this creative genius, and like any good tall tale, leave you wanting more. It is also entirely possible that after one vidi, you will have more questions to ask than questions answered. But that's what happens when you delve into such a complex and confusing subject, because Neil's a Strange Dude...

View the Shenanigans on YouTube @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6C_eDutBVsU&feature=channel

You haven't been cross-country skiing until you've strapped the skis on with Neil. My advice; bring a camera, bring a recovery drink, hold on tight, and just enjoy the ride. This is Neil's version of the sport, showcased in the Kananaskis in December of 2009. Buckle up!

(special thanks to CyberLink PowerDirector for their sponsorship)

Small Victories

I celebrated like it was an Olympic Gold, like the Stanley Cup was going to have my name on it, like I had asked out the girl of my dreams, she had said yes, and with no one looking I was finally able to come out from behind the ‘Cool’ and drop down a ‘YES!!!’. Fist pumping, Usain Bolt pointing, Michael Jackson kicking, throwing the arms to the heavens, giving it a Teemu Selanne 76-goal gun-down-the-glove shot, even a little play the drums slash air guitar routine; I did it all, Wii controller in hand.


I beat 'Supermario Bros. Wii' and I was stoked about it. I Am stoked about it. I’m not a gamer, at all. I play casually, in a social environment, and tend to be only as good as I need to be to survive the occasion. In the gaming world I’m the guy who has a drink with dinner, but is willing to party when the time comes and the situation calls. And being that I don’t have the Gamer Alcoholic tendencies of your usual virtual victor, it was rare to routinely find myself helping Mario, on my own, for hours at a time. I wasn’t quite drinking alone in the dark on a Tuesday, but I mean it’s Wii, I’m 26, there’s something mildly embarrassing about it.



But it’s not just completing the game and telling virtual Bowser to suck it, it’s all about the struggle. Tough levels required perseverance, seventy plus courses needed commitment, there were challenges that called for finesse, obstacles that asked for elegance, and throughout the entire battle, an unwavering desire to win. I didn’t just send the game a beat down, I exposed great character, and all it took was a video game. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You have to enjoy the little things. There are great vehicles for triumph out there, and plenty of heroic moments to strive for, but I’m not going to ignore those little extras that wait for me around every corner. What about ‘Do Great Always’? Sounds like a fun little plan. So whether it’s hitting the garbage can from across the room, scoring an OTGWG at 11:30 at night in front of a crowd of 2 during a Men’s League playoff match, or picking the winner of Survivor in a fantasy pool, I’m all about the small victories.

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It’s 2am, I’m drained, awkwardly sweaty, and unaware of anything other than the last level. I had chipped away at the map for weeks, and as I slowly pieced together the creation I was like an artist working at his masterpiece. And it was fun! 'Supermario Bros. Wii' is a tribute to the staple of the Nintendo Console. It’s a throwback to the classic two dimensional game that introduced Mario to my world nearly two decades ago. The world slept and with a controller I conducted my way closer to the celebration. When it finally happened, I let it sink in for only a second before dancing around in a flurry of silent shouts. You just drink it in, and let that feeling of success do its thing. And I told everyone about it, not just the gamers or the people who understand that I’m a little different, but everyone. I will add it to my list like any other Jack Webb Triumph, so move over Motorcycle License, make room Engineering Degree, enjoy the company Eiffel Tower kiss, because 'Supermario Bros. Wii' has been concurred. I also just finished another post for my blog; Booyakasha!

a Tasteful Tuesday

Last night I made Beef Tartar and Moule Provencale. This was a slight change from the bowl of cereal and side of toast I had cooked up the night before. Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of passion and attention to detail that went into the preparation of the cereal and toast (I may have even severed a glass of Jus d’Orange), but there’s something about serving beef tenderloin and following it up with a colourful display of steamed mussels that just feels special.


It was a Tasteful Tuesdays event at Willowpark Wine & Spirits called ‘Belgo Brasserie & Bubbles’. The evening took place in the Tasting area of the Willowpark wine store, which is equipped with a full kitchen, expansive dining area, and all the provisions for the possible disasters that might occur when a Kraft Dinner Chef makes an attempt at fine dining. Belgo’s executive chef was not only friendly enough to have the whole room of thirty plus people on a first name basis with him, but Chef Steve managed to convince us all that we were capable of creating mouthwatering masterpieces. I had my doubts, especially since we were sampling a variety of Bubbles.


Bubbles, in this case is not the amigo of Ricky, Julian, and the rest of the trailer park, it is the general term for everything brut, sparkling, or of the region of Champagne. We were introduced to a Conde de Caralt Brut, an Italian Sparkling Pinot Griogio from Voga, a Ca Montini Prosecco with a subtle sweetness, and a wonderful Brut Nature ‘Zéro Dosage’ Champagne by Ayala. Some say that the treasured CO2 that bubbles through the wine allows for an easier absorption of alcohol. Some then clarify that it ‘Makes you Drunk really fast’. Regardless, the truth about the Bubble is, it’s not the celebration that calls for the Champagne, it’s the Champagne that calls for the celebration.


So we have one Chef Steve, two Sommeliers, and a room full of hungry, cleaver wielding students on the Bubble. Two small miracles occurred. The first was that no one injured themselves or anyone else while under the influence of raw meat, sea invertebrates, and the Bubble. The second, and possibly the most remarkable, I created edible dishes that one person described as ‘delectable’ and ‘worthy of an encore’. That person was me, but nevertheless others also sampled my Beef Tartar and Moules Provencale and did not die, so it was a great success. It was a great success for everyone who attended, as the entire group enjoyed the fruits of their labour while gathered together around 2 large dining tables enjoying the liquid fruits of others’ labour. Hats off to Chef Steve; a gentleman and a scholar and a teacher of the culinarily sluggish.

The evening was fun, educational, delicious, and exciting. It was also terrifying and hilarious, but in a good way. And after only a couple of hours I had expanded my cooking repertoire from fan favourites such as ‘Can O’ Soup’, ‘Peanut Butter Sandwich’, ‘Frozen Pizza’, and ‘Microwave Popcorn’, to include some European delicacies far beyond my ‘Open a Bag of Salad and Serve’ skills.


It was not the first Tasteful Tuesday I had participated in, and it would not be the last. It lacks the pressure of a full fledged cooking class, has the fun of a wine tasting, and lets you learn, eat, and drink within a casual atmosphere surrounded by new friends. Plus by the end of the evening, as you begin to feel anxious about the prospect of your newly acquire knowledge drifting away like the bubbles of your favourite Champage, they provide you with a recipe booklet, wine list, and point you in the direction of those Must-Have bottles. Because after all, you are already conveniently in a wine store – seems they have thought of everything…