Plumb tuckered out

An absolute knackering (knacking?) this day, what with the intensive cleaning of various ground-floor rooms. I have been dozing intermittently since 8:00pm. The boys, for the third or fourth time since the floor’s uncluttering, are running in circles, as in Alice in Wonderland’s Caucus Race. This is lively even by their standards – doubtless a spillover of last night’s mirth (we attended an “open house” at Samuel’s new school; I spent most of it chasing Daniel through the halls).

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I saw very little of the Olympics – none of it in “real” time – but was taken with this handballer’s story (NYT). He, too, has sleep apnea. Yes, this is what it’s like.

Earlier today I was slumped on the sofa, unable to remain fully conscious, while Samuel and Daniel crawled over me. I’d beg them to do a little cleaning. They wouldn’t. At last I rallied, was a virtual tornado for an hour and a half, and made the place spotless. The boys helped enough to earn some basement TV time. Then they came back upstairs, beheld the emptiness, and ran their first Caucus Race. Samuel tackled Daniel a few times. Daniel would urge him to stand up and keep running. High spirits.

I actually am the least tired adult in the house. Karin is pregnant again, you see.

Lord willing, our third son will be born the first week of December.

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P.S. The boys have been watching the infamous (but, to my mind, charming) Peppa Pig show. Samuel now calls himself Peppa; Daniel, he calls George; Karin, Mommy Pig; and yours truly, Daddy Pig. My parents visited; they are, respectively, Abuela and Abuelo Pig.

More medals for Ecuador

Suddenly, after many fruitless decades, we have our first two woman medalists – both of them weightlifters:

• Neisi Dajomes of Pastaza Province – gold medalist in the 76 kg class
• Tamara Salazar of Carchi Province – silver medalist in the 87 kg class

Like Richard Carapaz, these medalists didn’t appear out of nowhere. Dajomes twice was junior world champion and holds several junior world records. Salazar has won continental and hemispheric contests.

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These are Samuel’s new favorite things to do outside: draw with chalk on everything, including the porch, the porch door, the porch furniture, himself, and his father; and run to the corner of the yard where the pebbles are, and put as many as possible into his mouth.

It used to be much easier to take him outside.

Yesterday I hurt my back lifting a series of objects (including Samuel). The debilitating twinge came when I bent over to pour cat litter from its container.

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Some books I am reading (I may discuss them later):

• Michael C. Bender, “Frankly, We Did Win this Election”: The Inside Story of How Trump Lost
• Tana French, In the Woods
• Leonardo Sciascia, The Day of the Owl
• George Sher, A Wild West of the Mind

Soon I’ll have to pack up my books to move them into the new house (assuming the purchase goes as planned).

Olympic gold

The boy constantly climbs the furniture. Things which once were safe upon high shelves are no longer safe.

The boy also climbs and climbs on his father, who, hours later, must resist the urge to shield himself from being trampled by (phantom) mountain goats.

The boy’s mother drags herself to work most days. When not at work, she is in bed, sick.

This is what has been going on in our household.

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Ecuador won its second-ever Olympic gold medal – the first since 1996. The competition was a pretty badass one: the men’s cycling road race.

The winning cyclist, Richard Carapaz of Carchi Province, recently finished third in the Tour de France. His fellow Olympic medalists excelled in that contest, too.

The six-hour Olympic race climbed part of Mt. Fuji.

Here are an Associated Press/Sports Illustrated report …

an NBC highlight video …

and some analysis.

Yahoo! trolls the world

There’s a tradition in U.S. soccer journalism of importing awful British pundits. Several of these donkeys have worked for Yahoo! Sports.

When I first moved to this country, I was delighted with Yahoo! for re-publishing other news agencies’ reports from all over the world. Every day, I’d read of the domestic leagues in Botswana or Thailand or wherever. Coverage of South America was especially good.

All of that fine reporting is long gone. Now, Yahoo!’s content is much narrower in scope, and the site employs its own journalists. These pundits have tended to sing the praises of (a) the English Premier League, (b) the U.S. men’s team, (c) the English men’s team, (d) Cristiano Ronaldo, (e) the other powerful European leagues and teams (France’s, Germany’s, Italy’s, and Spain’s), and (f) U.S. Major League Soccer – more or less in that order. Presumably, these are the topics that U.S. readers care about.

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For years, the especial jackass at Yahoo! was one Martin Rogers, who’s moved on to USA Today. How I loathed that “bloke.” … But now, I wonder if Ryan Bailey, the “wanker” du jour, is even worse.

First, Bailey doesn’t write. He makes videos. (Rogers would at least write his columns.)

Second, the videos are obnoxious, due to Bailey’s relentless cheerfulness.

Third, Bailey doesn’t just wish to preserve the status quo; he favors giving dramatically more power to the most mercenary entities.

See, for example, his recent video, “Making the Case to Scrap International Soccer.”

This is his case:

(1) International soccer sometimes conflicts with the Premier League.

(2) And the Premier League is obviously what everyone wants to view.

(3) Besides, we don’t have to scrap international soccer completely. If we were to keep soccer as an Olympic event, that would be good enough.

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This cannot be a serious argument. No one who isn’t already on Bailey’s side would be convinced. Bailey must be trolling.

But if Bailey is serious, he obviously hasn’t watched the South American World Cup qualifiers. If his idea of a good game is Brighton vs. Newcastle or Arsenal vs. Chelsea, he should try watching Uruguay vs. Chile, or Chile vs. Paraguay, or, least glamorous of all, Paraguay vs. Venezuela. (In the 2018 World Cup cycle, each of those South American fixtures turned out to be a matter of life and death.)

As for moving soccer’s main event to the Olympics: either the Olympics would have to be greatly expanded to accommodate a soccer tourney with the magnitude of the World Cup, or else the world’s main soccer tourney would have to be shrunk. The first option would leave in place all of what Bailey dislikes about the current system (including, I presume, the massive qualification phase). And the second option would fail to placate those who like having a big tourney and its attendant qualification games.

One suspects that the real motive for incorporating the world’s main soccer tourney into the Olympics would be to allow U.S. fans to feel better about themselves, since their country would likely excel in many other events. (“We didn’t reach the podium in soccer? Well, at least we earned the gold in beach volleyball.”)

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Bailey also states that players prefer to focus on their clubs and not their national teams.

To which every South American replies: You must be from England.

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Even so, I probably am more disillusioned with international soccer than I ever have been. This latest World Cup left me especially discouraged. I worry that international soccer will always be unjust – and not only contingently so; I worry that people’s valuation of it is conceptually confused.

I may discuss these issues further during the next several months.

Wayde van Niekerk

I said I wouldn’t follow the Olympics, but this news did catch my eye: Wayde van Niekerk smashing the 400m world record, running in Lane 8.

This video will likely be taken down.

Parade

Karin is briefly out of town. Martin & Mary and I watch the Parade of Nations, which takes place in the Maracanã.

“This is your favorite thing to watch, John-Paul,” Mary says.

“What do you mean?”

“You know. The female athletes.” She is referring to the manner in which I admired the Sochi 2014 Parade of Nations. (I was single then.)

I observe that these athletes aren’t as beautiful as those of the winter olympiad.

“Well, of course not,” says Mary. “The summer athletes aren’t as rich.”

Countries large and small parade their delegates. The TV commentators are absolute d-bags. Of Djibouti they say, “Once every four years, someone is forced to pronounce this country’s name.” Mary and I loudly boo this remark. The commentators read from their notes: “The U.S. has a military base in Djibouti.” Really? This is all they can think to say about Djibouti? Booooo! Booooo!

Of Eritrea they say, “We bet you don’t know where this country is.”

“It’s right next to Djibouti, you d-bags!” we yell at the TV.

Mary is worried that the Ecuadorians won’t be shown; the commercial breaks are too frequent. But the Ecuadorians are shown. The commentators make some respectful remarks about the great speed-walker of 1996, Jéfferson Pérez.

Mary complains: “That’s exactly what they talked about in the London Olympics.”

I don’t mind. I’d be relieved if they only talked about Jéfferson Pérez until kingdom come.

The alphabetization is in Portuguese, and so the athletes of the Federated States (estados) of Micronesia are paraded out right before those of the United States (estados) of America.

“Need we talk about this country?” the commentators say of Micronesia. They chuckle. “Well, all right. This is the country that comes right before you-know-who” (i.e., the USA).

Again Mary and I are indignant.

Martin mutes the TV while the 500 U.S. athletes come into the stadium. It takes so long for them to march in, the TV goes to a commercial break.

“What!” I say. “They cut out the athletes of their own country!”

“Business commitments are very important to them,” says Mary.

And that’s all I wish to see of these Olympics. If anything occurs that’s worth watching, I’ll find it later on YouTube.

Melting

Most definitely not snowed in; but the last two nights, walking has been perilous due to the ice. There are too few English terms for the different slicknesses I’ve encountered.

Today, though, we’ve had lightning flashes and thick rain. The snow mounds — formerly tall as houses, hard as marble — are greatly reduced.

(Will corpses be revealed, I wonder?)

If we’re lucky, the water won’t refreeze; the air will remain warm until the fluid has all trickled away. Meanwhile our yard is a slushy swamp, impassable in canvas shoes.

The male Sabby has sent me this beautiful thing.

The female has been nagging at me to continue applying, belatedly, for health insurance:

two Facebook messages;
one text message;
one email;
one e-card;
one postcard.

It’s so touching, I almost hate to do it.

Snowed in, pt. 5 — Olympics

Well, not *snowed* in, exactly. But today was frigid; the schools were closed; Mary & Martin stayed at home; Stephen remained unemployed; and I didn’t have to work, either.

Dunno what to write about.

Share your opinion of the Olympics, says Martin. (We’re watching the opening ceremony.)

The Olympics are propaganda for imperialism.

This ceremony is a hoot, though. Right now the athletes are parading into the stadium. I’m enjoying the relentless techno music … the gaudy winterwear … the non-citizens who’re representing the tropical nations.

The girl athletes are gorgeous. Mary explains: It’s because they’re young, fit, and rich.

The Russians have a lot of culture, and their anthem is bad-ass.