A couple of things to know about sailing:
1. The World Championships are held once every four years, and we don’t have one until December in Perth, Australia.
2. The Tornado (two-sailor, mixed) and Yngling (three-woman) classes are out. Enter the Elliot (three-woman) match-racing class.
3. One boat per nation per event. A lot of berths will be earned at Worlds.
We start fast, with Zach telling us he may keep things standing against Chuck since he took him down last time. In other words, he wants to do the opposite of what he did when he beat him.
Chuck says he’s giving half of his win bonus to Charlie because Charlie has been going through a rough child support situation. Charlie says he can’t take it.
Quick look at training: Brock tells Chuck to use his head to pin Zach’s head against the cage.
Then we’re already at the walkout for the fight, though Zach puts a couple of holes in the perennially flimsy UFC Training Center doors on his way to the cage.
Returning from the ad break, we get a few more reminders that Chuck’s nickname is “Cold Steel.” He also has more experience than Zach.
Round 1: Zach immediately lands a sharp jab and fares pretty well in the stand-up. Chuck lands a good leg kick. Zach takes him to the cage to land some solid knees, and Chuck is showing little capacity to get out. Ref Steve Mazzagatti gets bored nearly halfway through the round and returns them to the center, where we see a cut under Zach’s left eye. They trade again, and Chuck lands a good variety of strikes. One punch staggers Zach, who comes back with a takedown attempt and again puts Chuck against the cage. His position isn’t as good this time, and Chuck lands a lot of hammerfists. They break, and Chuck lands a powerful combo that sends Zach reeling. And another. The last 20 seconds is a barrage from Chuck. The only bad news for Brock’s fighter is that he seems tired when he gets back to the corner. 10-9 Chuck
Between rounds, Brock tells Chuck that Zach’s tired. Junior, perhaps for the first time all season, sounds mad at someone other than Lew Polley and the judges, telling Zach he HAS to take Chuck down.
Round 2: Well, Zach gets down, but it’s the result of a leg kick that his him awkwardly. Chuck gets on top for a few seconds but lets him up. Chuck again staggers Zach, but Junior’s fighter responds with a near-takedown. Chuck manages to pick his way out, and we repeat — Chuck 1-2, Zach takedown attempt, Zach pressing Chuck to the cage. Chuck reverses momentarily but can’t keep Zach against the cage. That’s all Zach can manage, though — he’s the living picture of a tired fighter leaning on his opponent. They slow-dance a bit more, and Mazzagatti has again seen enough. They go back to the center, where Zach will need a miracle in the last 90 seconds. He lands one nice punch up the middle, but Chuck bides his time and then responds. Then another Chuck combo with 20 seconds left. Zach shoots, and Chuck immediately scrambles away. Horn sounds, and Zach immediately hangs his head.
They don’t even go to the pretense of pretending we might have a third round. They go straight to the fight recap, and it’s all Chuck.
And yes, it’s 20-18 across the board for Chuck O’Neil, who put on a performance that will earn him a couple of UFC paydays. The former alternate and wild card is now a semifinalist.
Doctor checks out Chuck. “Headache?” “No. A little horny, though.”
“Cold Steel,” yes, but the wit is still there.
Immediately to the second fight, and Brock is a little concerned that Tony gets too fancy when he has a dominant position.
But after the break, we get a quick look in the house with a lot of Miller Lite placement. Chuck pays tribute to Zach’s toughness.
Then the bad news — Zach tore BOTH retinas. He had immediate surgery, and the doctors say he can’t fight any more. Chuck hears the news and gives Zach a sympathetic hug.
Two words for Zach: Second opinion.
Junior and Ryan posit him as the underdog. That’s a little strange for Junior’s second pick and the guy who took out Brock’s top pick, Len Bentley.
Ryan also tears up talking about his daughter, to whom he has been writing letters in the hopes that she’ll read them later and know how much he was thinking of her during this six-week experience.
Round 1 … oh, it’s over. Tony lands an uppercut that staggers Ryan and finishes up.
Junior consoles Ryan and tells him never to give up. Then he asks everyone to put all their positive energy toward Ramsey.
Yes, Ramsey is the only Dos Santos fighter remaining in the competition. Call it the curse of Lew Polley. Anyone who thought Brock was embarrassing himself should be thinking again.
Dana says the coaches think Ramsey and Tony are the best fighters here. Dana doesn’t necessarily disagree, but he’s impressed with Chuck and says Chris just keeps beating the odds.
Matchups: Ramsey vs. Chris Cope, Tony vs. Chuck.
So that’s a wrap, and … oh, wait. We haven’t had the drunken brawl we were promised in the previews.
Ramsey strips on the pool table and is doused with various beverages. Everyone’s having fun.
Until … Charlie pours a drink in Tony’s hair. Tony charges him, falling over a sofa and into a coffee table that luckily doesn’t shatter. We hear people yelling to restrain Tony as we go to commercial. Are we going to see a Jesse Taylor-style removal from the house? We’ll find out after Schick razors take a page from the Axe “use this product and have sex” advertising book.
Charlie tries to calm Tony down. Tony isn’t responding. Then the talk starts. Tony brings up Charlie’s kid, possibly the worst below-the-belt argument since Bobby Southworth yelled “fatherless bastard” at Chris Leben in Season 1. Tony keeps yelling, “Hit me and see your kid!”
The rest of the house is shocked. Shamar says he lost a lot of respect for Tony.
Tony comes back in the house and keeps talking about Charlie’s son. Charlie has to be held back, but Clay looks ready to take on Tony himself.
Chuck was initially reluctant to fight his teammate. Not any more. Chuck says he’s ready to “take away Tony’s dreams.” And the rest of the house is surely pulling for him.
You wanted drama this season? You’ve got it. And Tony has some explaining to do.
If Mitch Hedberg had made observations about rowing rather than NASCAR, I think he would’ve asked this question: Why do all these folks have to go backwards?
The World Championships are annual, even in Olympic years. The 2010 event was in New Zealand last fall; the 2011 event will start Aug. 28 in the ominous-sounding town of Bled, Slovenia.
World Cup competition is starting soon, and the powers that be have put together a handy preview.
MEN
Single sculls: The three medalists from 2008 and Britain’s Alan Campbell must be awfully familiar with each other by now. The 2010 Worlds finished in this order: Synek, Drysdale, Campbell, Tufte. Synek was unbeaten in 2010, while Olympic champion Olaf Tufte aims to peak in the big events.
2008: Olaf Tufte (Norway), Ondrej Synek (Czech Republic), Mahe Drysdale (New Zealand)
Projection: Czech Republic, Britain, Norway
Top Americans: Kenneth Jurkowski made the B final in 2010, finishing 12th overall.
Modern pentathlon and triathlon have a few things in common — running, swimming and the inevitability of being lumped together when people like me are doing sport-by-sport breakdowns.
Aside from that, they aren’t too similar. Triathlon has become the trendy way for people to show how fit they are. If you know anyone who has said, “Hey, I’m raising money for charity by doing a pentathlon,” please let me know.
At the Olympics, modern pentathlon is held in a couple of venues through the day, and they can’t really be choosy. In London, for some reason, they’ll have the fencing in the handball venue. Then it’s across the Olympic Park to the main Aquatics Centre for the swim, then over to the equestrian venue at Greenwich Park for the remaining events. (That wasn’t an option in Beijing, where the equestrian venue was in Hong Kong.)
The triathlon, meanwhile, is held in a scenic venue like the one in this picture. Beautiful, isn’t it? One of my favorite days in China.
London organizers are opting to hold the triathlon in Hyde Park. Pretty cool.
Triathlon also is much simpler. Swim 1,500 meters. Bike 40k. Run 10k. Cross finish line. Collect medal.
Modern pentathlon has a more complex scoring system, but as they do in Nordic combined (and really should do in the decathlon), they convert points to seconds and start people in the final race in the order in which they currently stand. Build a big lead in the first three events, then try to run alone.
Missing TUF in its regular time slot is one thing. Forgetting to record it is another. The site doesn’t upload the full episode for a few days, and then you’re stuck watching that Miller Lite ad with the drill sergeant training female lifeguards to save men from making poor beer-drinking decisions. No time to ponder the many ironies of all that — we’ve got two fights this week, and though I know the results, I’m looking forward to seeing them.
Shamar Bailey hurt his back in training. He’s whispering because Chris Cope, who has already been accused of spying on the whole house, is lurking as always.
Team Dos Santos practice finds Ramsey Nijem piling on the weight-cutting gear while he works out with Junior, who reiterates praise of Ramsey’s wrestling prowess.
We get a little bit of Ramsey’s backstory. “Being Palestianian helps me be the fighter I am.”
Brian Stann stops by to chat at the request of the U.S. Marine Corps. He gives what seems like a recruiting speech, either for the Marines or the UFC. Brock Lesnar jokes that Stann should’ve brough a few applications to get some of these guys to join the USMC.
Clay Harvison, who knows Brian out in the real world, has to prepare for Ramsey. Brock, opening up quite a bit as a coach, gives Ramsey a tip based on something Shane Carwin used against him.
Miller Lite ad. Yes, I’m so afraid of making an “unmanly” choice. I’m 41 with two kids. That’s my first priority. (To be fair, it’s not their fault I’m out of the demographic.)
The Ramsey-Clay weigh-in is spiced up by Ramsey’s thong. Dana reminds us that Clay’s finger was grotesquely dislocated.
Ramsey gets a little nauseous before the fight. That could be an advantage. Would you hesitate a little if you knew someone might vomit on you?
Tale of the tape: Clay is 30. Ramsey is 22. Steve Mazzagatti is the ref.
Round 1: Ramsey throws awkwardly. Clay throws wildly, giving Ramsey the easy opening for a takedown. He hops on Clay’s back, sinks in hooks, hits him a couple of times, locks in the rear naked choke and gets the tap before the one-minute mark. Not sure Ramsey’s even sweating.
“That’s how you fight when you get sick?!” Junior asks.
Dana reassures Clay that he’s impressed with the guy’s toughness. Brock also accentuates the positive. Clay is ticked at himself for falling into something so quickly.
Different Miller Lite ad makes fun of those of us who like emo bands.
On to the second fight and the rather contrived conflict between Shamar and Chris. Brock smiles as he tells Chris just to weather the first 30 seconds. It’s another wrestler vs. striker matchup — or, as Brock puts it, “wrestler vs. … Chris.”
Brock works with Chris and points to the logo at the center of the cage. “Own Burger King,” Brock says. Shamar was Dos Santos’ first pick. Chris was picked a little later. Shamar is ripped. Chris is … Chris. Shamar glares. Chris smiles.
Dana points out the upset potential — Shamar looked one-dimensional in his first fight. That’s especially true if “boring” is a dimension.
Chris picks the brain of Nordin, who lost that borefest and gets some rare screen time. They end up arguing about Chris’ approach.
The main Miller Lite ad returns, after the Hugh Hefner Stoli ad. Am I supposed to be wasted by this point?
Round 1: As expected, Shamar spends about 90 seconds working on a takedown against the cage, but Chris defends well. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And Chris lands punches in quantity, if not quality, each time he’s tied up. 10-9 for Chris.
Another Stoli ad, this one with Julia Stiles. Pretty cool, actually.
Round 2: Chris concedes the Burger King logo too easily, which surely annoys Brock. But he outpunches Shamar to keep him at bay for about 80 seconds. Then we’re back to the cage, where Chris defends the takedown again. Back to the center, where Chris is again outboxing Shamar, and Shamar finally charges to push him to the cage. Still can’t get the takedown. That’s 0-for-7, approaching the success rate of apocalyptic prophets. Shamar lands a couple of punches but doesn’t even follow up with a takedown attempt. More boxing and another Shamar charge, with Chris reverses and presses Shamar to the cage. Shamar reverses, but Chris again fights his way out. 30 seconds left, and Shamar goes for takedown attempt #9, taking a whole bunch of punches to his ear. Chris reverses and gets back to the center as the round ends.
Dos Santos tells Shamar “your fight, your fight.” Not sure what he was watching.
Dana sums it up well: Shamar couldn’t do anything. But Chris wouldn’t let his hands go. Brock says Chris was in defensive mode but landing defensive punches.
All three judges score it 20-18 for Chris. “What?!” yells Dos Santos. “I don’t know about that,” says Shamar.
Shamar says he wanted to come out and put on a show for Dana, not just wrestle. He tells Dana he wants to show he could bang rather than trying to take the easy way out and taking him down. Dana: “Looks like you TRIED to take him down a bunch of times.” Shamar then plays the injured-back card.
Great fight? No. Just an amusing look at how to beat a one-dimensional fighter and some reassurance that you can’t win a fight by simply pressing someone against a cage.
Next week, Tony Ferguson apparently goes ballistic in the house, but they tell us he will indeed fight Ryan McGillivray in what should be one of the best fights of the season. We’ll get both quarterfinals, then the semifinal announcements. Yes, this season is going fast.
(Yes, I’ll get to WPS, magicJack and even promotion/relegation in this post. But it needs some background.)
The United States has been a graveyard of soccer leagues. The reasons are many: The scattered population and ensuing high travel costs, the cultural antipathy toward a game that wasn’t invented here, and the dominance of the Big Three and a Half team sports.
Another reason is that it’s nearly impossible to get everyone on the same page. Plenty of people have their own ideas on how to run a soccer league, and inevitably, the leagues, teams, players and fans get caught in the crossfire of egos. Let’s spend wildly on players! Let’s go indoors! Let’s go indoors but change the scoring system! Let’s blast music during the game! Let’s confine players to a particular region of the field and give them ankle bracelets so they don’t veer outside that zone!
(If you don’t find my summary here or in Long-Range Goals sufficient to make this point, read David Wangerin’s Soccer in a Football World. And note that he has another book out on the USA’s missed opportunities.)
Though the state of U.S. soccer in 2011 is a bit better than it was in 1988 or 1960 — or just about any year you could find prior to World Cup 1994 — we still have plenty of people who are convinced they know better. “X, Y and Z failed,” the argument goes, “so I must know better.”
Josh Gross tackles drug testing in his latest podcast (check right column here), bringing on U.S. Anti-Doping Agency chief Travis Tygart as a guest.
Tygart makes the pitch that the UFC and state commissions should go whole-hog with blood testing, saying athletes otherwise have no incentive to steer clear of human growth hormone and other substances only detectable by such tests. That depends — HGH use is still illegal unless you’re under a doctor’s care, and a good raid on a black-market dealer could put any customer at risk. That said, blood testing is indeed a better deterrent.
But Tygart smartly allows a little bit of leeway to suggest the powers that be don’t need to follow the World Anti-Doping Agency’s rules to the letter. That’s good, because some of those rules already cause a few problems in other sports.
The classic examples:
– Torri Edwards. Trainer misread a label that was written in French. Arbitrators accepted her story and duly … cut her two-year suspension down to 15 months.
– Zach Lund. Took Propecia for hair loss. A component of Propecia was added to the list of prohibited substances. He didn’t realize this, but he duly listed Propecia as something he took, anyway. No one raised a red flag. Until the eve of the Olympics, of course. No Olympics for you. Oh, and then they took the substance off the banned list.
– Alain Baxter. Did you know that the U.S. version of Vicks Inhaler has a substance that isn’t in the U.K. version? Neither did Baxter. That’s why he doesn’t have a bronze medal in skiing.
Anti-doping movements exist for good reason. No one wants to go back to the days in which East Germany’s athletes were basically lab experiments. (And if you don’t believe these drugs have nasty side effects, read the East Germans’ stories.) But it should be about athlete health and safety first. Not hair-splitting and bureaucracy.
And that’s why the MMA community should be grateful to Tygart for sharing his insights without first insisting that the UFC and state commissions sign everything away to WADA, which is finally emerging from years under the controversial leadership of Canadian Dick Pound.
(UPDATES: Solo’s Tweets have disappeared, and ESPN’s Jeff Carlisle says she denied deleting them. Also, the league is going to hire people to put up sponsor signage and shoot video of the games, then send magicJack the bill. See the harshly worded statement.)
Hope Solo was apparently surprised, judging by her Twitter output today. Others really weren’t.
WPS laid down the hammer today on magicJack, deducting a point for continued noncompliance with league rules. And as Jenna Pel and Jeff Kassouf tell it, this is merely the latest step in a weeks-long escalation from warning to fine to loss of draft picks to loss of a point.
Those punishments weren’t made public. And judging from Solo’s Tweets, we have to wonder if the players were even aware of the issues.
The most-publicized issue with magicJack was the lack of media access. Pel’s report says the team was indeed fined after failing to allow postgame interviews in its second home game. But players were available for comment after the team’s last game, so that issue might be resolved.
The quiet reassignment of head coach Mike Lyons is a non-issue. WPS requires a head coach to have an “A” license, but coaches have a two-year grace period. So in the short term, magicJack won’t be violating any policies, no matter who’s in charge.
A quick look at the other issues:
– Lack of sponsor signage. Some photos from the last magicJack game showed a few banners hanging near the field. We’ll have to see if that’s enough to appease the league. Sponsorship is one area in which the league has made progress; failing to live up to obligations on that front would undermine one of the bright spots in the league’s business history.
– Failure to upload game video for scouting and stats. That’s a competitive issue, and it’ll be interesting to see what magicJack owner Dan Borislow has to say about it. Jeff’s report says other teams are furious.
– Failure to have a functioning Web site. Jenna says the team got an extension, which seems fair for a new team. Borislow has said he’ll market the team at the appropriate time. A few people on Twitter have volunteered to keep up the team’s site, but it’s not really that simple.
– Stadium capacity. WPS might not have a leg to stand on here. They knew the situation ahead of time, and it’s really up to Florida Atlantic getting more bleachers ready.
– Pressbox sight lines. This complaint can’t go anywhere. Even at the Maryland Soccerplex, an ideal venue in every respect other than the distance from D.C. and Northern Virginia, the corners of the field are obscured from most seats in the pressbox.
So some of these issues should be easily resolved, and others will simply require patience.
The bigger issue: Borislow and WPS clearly have differing views on how to run a soccer team and league. Usually, negotiations about how to run things take place in the offseason. Here, they’re unfolding before our eyes. And unfortunately, we can see all this drama, but we can’t see video highlights of this wonderfully talented team in action.
The good news for magicJack is that the fan experience, by many accounts, is terrific. See Part I and Part II of this detailed report from a BigSoccer poster.
The players seem happy, judging by the few public comments and Ella Masar’s blog. The fans who can see the team seem happy. The questions are these:
Comments welcome.
(Incidentally, apologies for lack of recent posts — been “on assignment,” as it were. In a related note, next week’s recap will be one day late.)
A quick reminder: Javier Torres and Chuck O’Neil are in the wild card, and Len Bentley is not happy.
Len chases Dana White, eager to get a rematch with Ryan McGillivray after their close decision. Dana says Len should’ve showed that spirit when they were talking to guys about the wild card, saying if he had, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Len is rather perplexed, wondering what else he could’ve/should’ve said.
And so, let’s present this Memo To Future TUF Contenders: When asked if you want to take a fight, respond with this: “BLEEP YEAH! I’LL FIGHT RIGHT NOW! I’LL FIGHT BROCK LESNAR, GSP AND ANDERSON SILVA SIMULTANEOUSLY JUST SO I CAN GET IN THE CAGE AGAIN! I’LL CUT FROM 230 TO BANTAMWEIGHT IN THREE HOURS! PLEASE, PLEASE, DANA, JUST GIVE ME ONE MORE BLEEPING SHOT IN THE BLEEPING CAGE!!!!!”
Back in the house, we get the Len complaint montage, complete with scenes from the outdoor hot tub and the kitchen. Charlie Rader: “Len’s being a little dramatic about the situation.”
Ryan tells Len that Junior said Brock said Brock was worried about Len’s knee. In elementary school, that’s called “telephone” or “gossip.”
Someone else calls Len a ginger. His hair seems rather black to me, and I have high-def.
Looks like it’ll be a no-nonsense week, with two fights scheduled and the wild card selection, along with a few possible injury replacements.
Well, except that assistant coach Lew Polley directly undercuts Junior dos Santos’ message to the team after Mick’s loss. Junior tries to rebuild them, telling them everyone loses sometimes and you just have to shake them off. Lew follows that up by saying you just have to win, even if you’re a little boring. Junior points out that really wasn’t what he was saying. Lew seems surprised.
Brock Lesnar all but promises Len the wild-card slot because Clay’s hurt and he had a close fight. Len’s excited. Until he goes in the cage in training and ends up hollering in pain, holding his knee.
Clay says his finger looks like it was smashed with a tire iron. But here’s the good news — the finger isn’t broken. It’s just dislocated. The bottom segment of the pinky is in place. The other two are somewhere in California. But that’s GOOD news.
Duresport.com 