I'm Glad to See He's Not Taking This Personally...

I need to get back into full-time blogging shape, but for now I just have one thought after the conclusion of the no-ring circus known as "The Decision: LeBron".

At least Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert took an opportunity to show a little dignity in all of this.

Right?

Somehow I have the sneaky feeling we're going to learn Cavaliers.com was hacked this evening. If not, well...judge for yourself:

A Letter From Cavaliers Majority Owner Dan Gilbert

Dear Cleveland, All Of Northeast Ohio and Cleveland Cavaliers Supporters Wherever You May Be Tonight;

As you now know, our former hero, who grew up in the very region that he deserted this evening, is no longer a Cleveland Cavalier.

This was announced with a several day, narcissistic, self-promotional build-up culminating with a national TV special of his "decision" unlike anything ever "witnessed" in the history of sports and probably the history of entertainment.

Clearly, this is bitterly disappointing to all of us.

The good news is that the ownership team and the rest of the hard-working, loyal, and driven staff over here at your hometown Cavaliers have not betrayed you nor NEVER will betray you.

There is so much more to tell you about the events of the recent past and our more than exciting future. Over the next several days and weeks, we will be communicating much of that to you.

You simply don't deserve this kind of cowardly betrayal.

You have given so much and deserve so much more.

In the meantime, I want to make one statement to you tonight:

"I PERSONALLY GUARANTEE THAT THE CLEVELAND CAVALIERS WILL WIN AN NBA CHAMPIONSHIP BEFORE THE SELF-TITLED FORMER ‘KING’ WINS ONE"

You can take it to the bank.

If you thought we were motivated before tonight to bring the hardware to Cleveland, I can tell you that this shameful display of selfishness and betrayal by one of our very own has shifted our "motivation" to previously unknown and previously never experienced levels.

Some people think they should go to heaven but NOT have to die to get there.

Sorry, but that's simply not how it works.

This shocking act of disloyalty from our home grown "chosen one" sends the exact opposite lesson of what we would want our children to learn. And "who" we would want them to grow-up to become.

But the good news is that this heartless and callous action can only serve as the antidote to the so-called "curse" on Cleveland, Ohio.

The self-declared former "King" will be taking the "curse" with him down south. And until he does "right" by Cleveland and Ohio, James (and the town where he plays) will unfortunately own this dreaded spell and bad karma.

Just watch.

Sleep well, Cleveland.

Tomorrow is a new and much brighter day....

I PROMISE you that our energy, focus, capital, knowledge and experience will be directed at one thing and one thing only:

DELIVERING YOU the championship you have long deserved and is long overdue....

Dan Gilbert
Majority Owner
Cleveland Cavaliers

Year Gone By

Stunning for me to think about how it's been a year since I started this thing (minus 2-days) and I only missed my pledge of one blog entry per day by 273 entries (honestly, the over/under was 1 week).

The biggest thing was that holding me up was I would usually get to the point of "almost" finishing a post and then saying to myself, 'I'll wrap this up tomorrow', and naturally 18 days would go by before the thought would even occur to me to check back, by which time the post was hopelessly outdated. Witness this entry from what was intended to be the epic last entry from Australia (I styled it as a Bill Simmons-esque "running diary"):

11:27 AM: Got a note about tonight's broadcast, or should I say an assignment: please help compile some photos for quick features that will compare the long British tennis drought with other suffering sports institutions: the Chicago Cubs and the city of Cleveland. Anybody who knows me knows at least a couple of things:

1) It's not that I think the world would be better off if the Cubs organization didn't exist...I know it for a fact.
2) The same principle applies to the city of Cleveland.

So reading this, the first thing that comes to mind for me is not how I now "have" to help design a feature that puts these utter failures on display, it's that I get to. This was the last-minute jolt I needed to get my enthusiasm back to the proper level!

With the benefit of two month's hindsight though, this diary was too good to let it be consigned to internet scrap heap. I'll post the full thing later tonight (I can tell you all wait with baited breath...)

Down Under, Day 16: Another Lazy Day in St. Kilda

It's amazing to think about everything that's gone on over the course of the last 16 days, and now my time in Australia is just about finished. Soon I'll have to trade 24 degrees Celsius for 24 degrees Fahrenheit (far from a fair exchange if you ask me), but I can't get greedy at this stage. I've been incredibly fortunate to have the chance to come down here and be a small part of an amazing team. Plus, I still can rub it in for a little while longer. Check out the view from St. Kilda tonight:


I'm a Midwestern guy, so I don't have high beach standards (and trust me St. Kilda, you're a far improvement from St. Joe Beach just off campus back at Notre Dame), but I'm told by people who know such things that St. Kilda's pretty far down the list of Australia's best beaches...or maybe not even on it. Having seen some of the vistas on the Australia tourism film shoots, I can see where they are coming from, but I'm certainly in no mood to complain. The sun was shining and the water was a cool 70 degrees (maybe colder, but it felt good to just lean back and float in the ocean with nothing to do for a brief while).

Back at the hotel now and relaxing for a brief moment; currently Serena Williams and Justine Henin are locked in a close fight for the women's title. I'm heading back to the park to check out the gift shop, which I hope is in an "Everything Must Go/Cut Prices Like Crazy Eddie" mode. Even if not, I promise I'll bring back some cool stuff.

One day more, and then the great Australian journey is finished...

Down Under, Day 15: The Genius Really IS At Work

“What moves those of genius, what inspires their work, is not new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has already been said is still not enough.”

I wish I could get better-quality versions of the "panorama" shots to appear in these posts themselves, but I guess they are just too big. Click on the photo above to get a better widescreen appreciation of the view inside Rod Laver Arena. The "stitch" program on my Mac actually does a real good job of linking together the iPhone photos in order to make a nice whole, even if certain people manage to appear in two places at once (look carefully at the ballkid in pink standing near the net).

Got a chance to see a match tonight for the first time at a slam, and it was a pretty good first trip - Roger Federer vs. Jo-Wilfried Tsonga in the semifinals of the year's first major. The match itself promised a lot of sizzle, and as long as you were a Federer die-hard, it delivered. Those who enjoy competitive tennis were probably a little let down, as it looked like Federer was hardly trying and knocked out Tsonga cold in 90 minutes 6-2, 6-3, 6-2.

Up in the corner of the arena, as they are at every match he plays down here, there was a group that I can only surmise is the Roger Federer Stalkers Club of Melbourne. I have seen them on footage of every Federer match, every Federer practice, and I'm not talking about only here in 2010. It's like they hibernate for the rest of the year and emerge in Australia only for these two weeks. Anyway, they carry a big banner (cherry red like the Swiss flag) that proclaims "Shh!! Genius at work!" Having now seen him live and in person, I have to completely agree.

It's not that Federer can never be beaten (ask Rafael Nadal or Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina), it only seems that way. When he's on his game, and he's very rarely off it, the stunning thing isn't so much the quality of his tennis as much as the way he delivers it. I'm far from an expert on the game, but even I know great athleticism and a wonderful shot when I see one. Federer seems to have both in excess and hardly ever seems to be trying that hard to provide them. With a lot of other players that's not the case - you see the sweat, hear the grunts, can tell just how hard & far they're pushing themselves to be great. Federer might as well be lounging on the back porch with an iced tea for all the "effort" he appears to be giving.

This is his secret, of course. Probably because he routinely carves up high-quality opponents (Tsonga is a Top 10 player and made the final here in 2008), we take for granted how hard he must work, how deep his desire runs. It has to, otherwise he'd be bored out of his mind and retired by now. The guy simply loves to play tennis, watch tennis, and more than likely enjoys watching himself beat others while playing tennis. It was far from a scintillating match tonight - the most newsworthy event happened in the post-match interview when Federer fueled the fire of Andy Murray by joking, "He'll have to win the first title for British tennis in 150,000 years or something like that" - but it was amazing to see Federer play. And if we are going to proclaim the man a genius on the tennis court (there'd be few, if any, counter-arguments), we ought to remember what Thomas Edison said:

“Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.”

Video of match point:

Down Under, Day 14: Stupid Tourist Questions

I noticed on the first day that I was impressed by the good-humored and fun-loving nature of the Australians, particularly how they could tackle the cheeky questions from dumb tourists with considerable flair. Just outside of the operations office in the broadcast compound is the following list, which I think sufficiently demonstrates my point:

Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia? I have never seen it rain on TV, so how do the plants grow? (UK)
A: Upwards, out of the ground, like the person who asked this question, who themselves will need watering if their IQ drops any lower...

Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? (USA)
A: Depends on how much beer you've consumed ...

Q: Which direction should I drive - Perth to Darwin or Darwin to Perth - to avoid driving with the sun in my eyes? (Germany)
A: Excellent question, considering that the tournament is being held in Melbourne.

Q: I want to walk from Perth to Sydney - can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only three thousand miles, so you'll need to have started about a year ago to get there in time...

Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in Australia? (Sweden)
A: And accomplish what?

Q: It is imperative that I find the names and addresses of places to contact for a stuffed porpoise. (Italy)
A: I'm not touching this one...

Q: My client wants to take a steel pooper-scooper into Australia. Will you let her in? (South Africa)
A: Why? We do have toilet paper here...

Q: Are there any ATMs in Australia? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane, Cairns, Townsville and Hervey Bay? (UK)
A: No, I can't.

Q: Where can I learn underwater welding in Australia? (Portugal)
A: Under water?

Q: Do the camels in Australia have one hump or two? (UK)
A: What's the time frame?

Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia? (UK)
A: Why bother? Use your fingers like the rest of us ...

Q: Do you have perfume in Australia? (France)
A: No. Everybody stinks.

Q: Do tents exist in Australia? (Germany)
A: Yes, but only in sporting supply stores, peoples' garages, and most national parks ...

Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia? (UK)
A: This HAS to have been asked by a blonde ...

Q: Can you tell me the regions in Tasmania where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
A: Yes. Gay nightclubs.

Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia? (France)
A: Yes. At Christmas.

Q: Can I drive to the Great Barrier Reef? (Germany)
A: Sure, if your vehicle is amphibious.

Q: Are there killer bees in Australia? (Germany)
A: Not yet, but we'll see what we can do when you get here.

Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia? (USA)
A: What's this guy smoking, and where do I get some?

Q: Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? (Germany)
A: Another blonde?

Q: Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: I love this one ... there are no rattlesnakes in Australia.

Q: Which direction is North in Australia? (USA)
A: Face North and you should be about right.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
A: Americans have long had considerable trouble distinguishing between Austria and Australia.

Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees. (USA)
A: Would you believe the Panda?

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia? (USA)
A: From Liz Taylor, perhaps?

Q: Are there places in Australia where you can make love outdoors? (Italy)
A: Yes. Outdoors.

Q: I was in Australia in 1969 on R+R, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Kings Cross. Can you help? (USA)
A: No. And even if I could ...

Q: Will I be able to speek English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

Naturally, I was a little disappointed to find out that this wasn't quite the solid-gold article it appears to be. Rather than be an actual list of responses from the Australian Tourism Board, it is (like most things these days) a popular and widely circulated internet urban legend. It first spread during the run-up to the 2000 Sydney Olympics and has since been slightly reworked; versions exist for the upcoming World Cup in South Africa ("kangaroos in the street" became "elephants in the street") and Vancouver, for the Winter Games which start in February ("I want to walk from Vancouver to Toronto..."). Full details on the "legend" here.

One of the interesting things to note is how many international fans are here at the tournament - as I chronicled, for many people Australia isn't exactly a short trip across town, it's 10,000 miles in any direction. But there's been a healthy contingent for just about every player here, which of course doesn't hurt when organizers are trying to sell the game as an international spectacle (they call this tournament, alternatively, "Your ticket to the world" or "Where the world comes to play"). British, Chinese, Greek, Serbian, Croatian, Spanish, Swedish, Swiss, Argentines, Chileans, and I'm pretty sure I saw an Australian or two (plus a couple of Yankees). It all gives the "happy slam" a true melting pot feel that I haven't noticed - at least not to the same degree - at Wimbledon and the US Open.

So while, no lie, I was a little let down to realize our list of stupid tourist questions wasn't an original Australian work of art, there's no question that they know how to have fun down here - and are more than eager to welcome everybody to the party.

Down Under, Day 13: Rockets Red Glare

Moving on to the late stage of the tournament, so the chaos of the early days cedes to the intensity that descends now that only a few big names and big matches are left to go. Serena Williams was facing a steep up-hill climb today after dropping the first set and being down 4-0 in the second, but she surged all the way back to win in three against Victoria Azarenka.

Last night was the celebration of Australia Day, the rough down under equivalent to the Fourth of July, complete with a booming fireworks spectacular. Play was actually stopped for ten minutes at Rod Laver Arena (Andy Murray playing Rafael Nadal at the time) so the show could fill the air with loud - very loud - explosions before resuming the tennis. A quick little iPhone video I grabbed of it:

Down Under, Day 12: Hurt So Bad

Although I'll always have a special place in my heart for swimming & water polo (and be more than ready to throw down with people who wonder "just how hard can it be to splash around in the pool") one of the things I'm noticing more and more about tennis is the deceptively grueling nature of the sport.

As a professional endeavor, tennis was never the laid-back country club affair most of the world associates it with. You always had to be fit, athletic, and agile if you were going to keep up. But in today's game, with stronger and faster players and rapidly evolving technology, the grind has become nearly too much to bear for even the most freakishly fit of athletes. We saw that in living color today as two of the most recognizable stars in the men's game bowed out of the tournament, both having their game severely undercut by injuries.

First, this afternoon (late last night for those of you back in the states), Andy Roddick struggled and gutted through five agonizing sets against Marin Cilic before losing 6-3 in the fifth. He called out the trainer on two separate occasions to look at a shoulder injury that first popped up during his match Sunday against Fernando Gonzalez, and said afterwards he was losing feeling in his fingers during the first two sets. A shot of painkillers and creative re-working of the game plan brought him from two sets down against Cilic, but he wasn't able to climb all the way back. Another hearty effort for naught in the past 12 months for Roddick, after a similar rally at the US Open ended with a fifth-set tiebreak loss to John Isner, which of course followed the memorable Wimbledon final last July against Roger Federer.

On to the evening session (which is really early in the morning back home): the defending champion of the event was dethroned with a retirement for the second straight year. Like Novak Djokovic in 2009 against Roddick, Rafael Nadal was being abused in the quarterfinals by an opponent named Andy (Murray, the #5 seed from Scotland), then ultimately threw in the towel. Stunning on a number of levels considering all the justified "freak of nature" praises the Spaniard gets, and it was a pretty swift turn of events watching it live down here. Nadal was his usual full-throttled self when the match began, popping off a couple impressive rallies and the super-charged reactions that go with them, but Murray capitalized on two early opportunities to break serve & take the first set. That's when the wear and tear began to set in, and Nadal appeared to pull up with a "tweaked" knee in the late stages of the match before retiring at 3-0 in the third. Even before the moment of injury though, he was beginning to show noticeable signs of battle fatigue from the Murray onslaught.

This is impressive on the Murray side of things because not many players - not even Federer - have the distinction of bullying Nadal to the point of tapping out. Yet that's precisely what the champion did after 3 dismal games to open the third set while already trailing 2 sets to none. Nadal admitted afterward the move had a little calculation behind it in terms of the "big picture" - he felt he had no chance to win the match and saw no reason to risk another major setback to knees that had spent the second half of 2009 in rehabilitation mode. He'll be out for a month, but who knows what condition he'll be in when he comes back.

Roddick and Nadal were merely the latest in a long line of walking wounded at this event, which you would think (given its status at the first major and only the third or fourth tournament overall in the calendar) could avoid seeing a lot of players worn down by injury. Yet that's precisely what has happened to many top players: Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina (wrist), Jo-Wilfried Tsonga (wrist), Tommy Haas (back), Roddick (shoulder), Nadal (knee), Marcos Baghdatis (knees and shoulder), Lleyton Hewitt (hip), and Robin Soderling (elbow/exhaustion...proving again my "knowledge" of the sport, I was convinced this Swede could make a run deep to the tournament final. What a stupid I am). The women aren't faring much better: top seed Serena Williams keeps adding more gauze around her knees & thighs with every match she plays, as does Justine Henin (you'd think with two years off at least she would be fresh). The same night Roddick was soldiering on against Gonzalez, the women's #2 seed Dinara Safina hobbled off the court, retired with ankle & back pain.

So is it that this sport takes too much out of you, or even weirder, not enough? The fact that the Australian Open occurs so early in the calendar may be part of the problem - players not only were still playing regularly until November of 2009, denying them a true off-season, they then have to urge themselves into top form on the heels of a very short break for the holidays. The level of tennis just isn't there across the board at the start of a season which follows so quickly on the heels of the old one, and players scrambling to keep up find themselves in the infirmary more than the winner's circle.

Despite whatever calendar problems might be out there - plenty of top men & women are on the record with complaints that the season is too long - here's my theory on what might seem like an abnormal pile-up of injuries: the athleticism it takes to be a professional tennis player now is off the charts. Even big lumbering guys like Cilic & JMDP of Argentina have a stunning amount of power & agility; if they didn't, there would simply be no hope for them to compete. And when you have a group of athletes constantly pushing each other to the physical limit like that, injuries happen. The human body was only designed to take so much abuse, to be stopped & started & turned on a dime only so often before it snaps under pressure. You just hope players figure out ways to battle through it.

** Pretty long entry today, but I didn't get in the daily note on Australian culture. That's a little surprising considering today was Australia Day, the continent-nation's answer to the Fourth of July, complete with an absolutely stunning fireworks display that would rival anything we see back home on Independence Day. I grabbed a quick video; I'll post that tomorrow. Fair trade?

Down Under, Day 11: Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles...

It's already late in the evening on Monday, but I wanted to put this out there so everybody who might not have already been linked to it can see it. This is straight-up inspirational stuff. The Late Night saga has been recapped and dissected by probably millions of bloggers by now, so I won't chew up many more megabytes with my own thoughts except to say this: it would have been so easy to view this moment as cheap and insincere, the tradeoff Conan had to give to NBC in an exchange for them to be embarrassed as little as possible considering how much they've monumentally f*&ked things up to this point.

It wasn't. It was 100% genuine from the gut - and this from a man who absolutely got screwed with his pants on in front of a worldwide television audience. If Conan O'Brien can stand up and say these things, at a moment when nobody would blame him for being bitter and stand-offish, than there might just be hope for the rest of us.

Ladies & Gentleman, Conan's Final Thoughts:

Down Under, Day 10: America vs. Chile

Even though I'm very much a novice in the world of tennis, I have picked up a few trends after months of sifting through footage and learning some of the ins & outs of how the sport has unfolded. Here's a pattern I think I'm picking up on: if you have to pick one of the four majors that's most likely to be chock full of whiz-bang, don't-change-that-channel thrillers, pick the Australian Open.

Two years ago was The Longest Day, when Roger Federer played a five-set match that went two hours overdue, delaying the start of a Venus Williams match that still took over two hours to play even though it was a straight sets win, and finally there was the Hewitt-Baghdatis match that stretched on until 4:34 AM local time (the rematch last night that I hyped so "brilliantly" fizzled by the way, as Baghdatis was forced into retirement by a shoulder injury while in the middle of getting his lunch handed to him). Last year in the tournament's final 48 hours Rafael Nadal spent almost 10 of them on court, outlasting Fernando Verdasco in a five-hour, five-set semi and then returning Sunday night to beat Federer in a 4.5 hour, five-set final. These are just two recent examples, and 2010 has seen the trend continue unabated.

Day Three gave us a five-setter between Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina (again, the man's full and proper name) and James Blake that saw them play until 10-8 in the fifth set. On Day 4 Baghdatis & Tommy Haas each needed five sets to advance, and on Day 5 Roddick & Nadal both were in danger of being pushed to five before winning in the fourth set; Fernando Gonzalez of Chile mounted a comeback against Evgeny Korolev to win in five also. Day 6, more of the same as Jo-Wilfried Tsonga and Haas played four agonizing sets, and keep in mind I'm only concentrating on the men's half of the draw, where admittedly the potential for drama is higher as the match has the possibility of dragging on "as-long-as-it-freakin'-takes" with no final set tiebreaks and the inherent anxiety that builds in a decisive fifth set.

Which bring us to Day 7 here at the Open, and probably the best double-decker of men's matches a tennis fan could ask for. At this point I wouldn't be ready to declare myself a tennis fan, because despite being more conscious of it than I ever was before I began to cover it for a living, I can't truly claim to know and appreciate the game like many of my colleagues do. This is not to say I dislike it all - quite the opposite, as the more I'm around it the more I appreciate it, but I still am only at the stage where I really grasp who the good players are (perhaps more significantly, what makes them good. Like the other great country club sport of golf, tennis has a "I can't define good, but I know it when I see it" flavor). One of the things I definitely enjoy are the distinct personalities - because it's such an intensely personal sport, a player has to drive his/her self out there on the court at all times. No team dynamic, no "chemistry" to perfect, no "role players". It is always mano y mano in the asphalt jungles of tennis (clay & grass jungles during the summertime, naturally.)

As I was saying though, today's action brought two absolute barn-burners, curiously enough involving both of my favorite personalities from South America - Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina, and "El Bombardero de la Reina", Fernando Gonzalez of Chile. Since it is now impossible for these two men to meet in the next round and elevate the Argentina-Chile rivalry to a whole new level, we must settle for the terrific and passionate show they put on in defeat. JMDP of Argentina was the first to bow out, losing a marathon to up-and-coming Croatian Marin Cilic, who's making a habit of pushing himself to the brink with two five-setters in his first four matches. Can't Croatians do anything the easy way? (You know I'm kidding, Mom)

Then in primetime for us in Australia, early Sunday morning back home, was the pride of America Andy Roddick up against the pride of Chile in Gonzalez. First Roddick was in control, then Gonzalez seized momentum, then Roddick was hurt, then he was motivated, then a super-close replay at the close of the fourth set completely swung the match and took all the wind out of the fiery Chilean. A shame, too, because there were plenty of his native fans inside Rod Laver Arena no doubt ready to set off a flare (or two dozen). The official breaking point came when El Bombardero gave away his first serve game in the final set with a double fault and promptly karate-chopped his racket. To say it was a "smashed" or "broken" racquet is to do the incident grave disservice - this thing shattered on impact, and the whole time you were left thinking "If only he were still smacking forehands like that in the match..." For good measure he tossed the poor, abused racket up into the crowd before retrieving a new one.

Gear aside though, The Man from La Reina fell in five dramatic sets to Roddick, who thankfully won't be facing a well-rested opponent as he and Cilic will both be forced to recover from a grueling day on the courts. The saving grace for everybody - us, the fans, and especially the players - has been the extraordinarily manageable Australian weather, never getting much about 80 or below 70 during the first week; the only blips on the radar at all were some rain clouds on the first two days. The Round of 16 continues tomorrow with headliners like Roger Federer vs. Lleyton Hewitt; click on the tube early to see if the marathon match fun continues.

Down Under, Day 9: Lazy Day Off

They say Australia is the land of no worries, and having just gotten back from a wonderful afternoon of sitting on the beach in St. Kilda doing nothing, I can't disagree.

I did take time to shoot a couple of videos to let you all back home in the 20-degree weather get a sense of what you've been missing...


Just up the road from the beach was what has now taken Wally World's place as the most broke-ass amusement park in history...


Anyway, back at the Westin now and just relaxing - tonight's featured tennis match is the native son, Lleyton Hewitt, versus Captain Insano of Greece Marcos Baghdatis. Two years ago these same players met on a Saturday night in the third round and played until 4:30 AM. Since they're the first match of the night this time around, duplicating that feat would be quite impressive.

Down Under, Day 8: Artistic Court Shots

Noticed that I hadn't posted any video updates in a couple of days so I headed out into the compound during twilight to get a little creative. Sure enough, not five seconds after I stopped rolling a very stern-faced security woman approached and cautioned me about wandering onto the playing surface...


I don't think I broke any laws or journalism ethics in the process, although there's probably something to be said about excess stupidity with my "feet shot" at the end. I'll try and do better next time :)

Down Under, Day 7: Argentina's Finest

Brian and Thomas will attest that, although I have only passable tennis knowledge, I have become quite a fan of Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina (and throughout this post I will refer to him as JMDP of Argentina, not to be a hassle but because that is the man's full and proper name!)

JMDP of Argentina beat Roger Federer at last year's US Open to stop the streak of five consecutive US titles for the greatest of all grand slam men's winners, and he arrives at this year's opening slam one of the pre-tournament favorites and the #4 seed. In one of those quirky moments that defines a tennis draw, however, he found himself with a dangerous and super-confident opponent in the second round while other top seeds drew a mix of qualifiers and no-names.

James Blake, the power-hitting American who once ranked in the world's top five but slumped out of the ranks of seeded players last year, gave the defending US champion all he could handle over the course of five high-energy sets. The match had to go to the tennis equivalent of overtime, as there is no tiebreaker in the final set of this major - you must play on until somebody wins by two games (the US Open is the only major that has a fifth-set tiebreak, which while it has the benefit of getting things over quickly at the end does suck out some of the awesome drama that comes with knowing we'll stay here all night if that's what it takes.) JMDP of Argentina looked exhausted when it was over but still had enough in the tank for a high-octane "Incredible Hulk" pose in victory...


Scary looking, huh? Imagine if this guy meets the equally fiery and determined Chilean Fernando Gonzalez (fun trivia fact Thomas: you lived down the street from Fernando's home tennis club when you studied abroad in Chile...a fact you've reminded me of on countless occasions). The sheer passion - not to mention illegal flares the South American fans are notorious for smuggling into the stands here - will be enough to shake the roof off Rod Laver Arena.

Down Under, Day 6: Australian For "What?"

You know the cliché blog post about Australian lingo was coming sooner or later, and here it is.

A Brief Selection from the Idiot's Guide to Speaking Australian
(NOTE: This is not brought to you by Foster's Beer)

Banana bender : a person from Queensland
Big Smoke: a big city, especially Sydney or Melbourne
He doesn't know Christmas from Bourke Street: he's a bit slow in the head. (Bourke Street is a brightly lit Melbourne street)
Brown-eyed mullet : a turd in the sea
Built like a brick shit house: a very strong bloke
Coldie : a beer (take a note, Foster's)
Fair dinkum : true, genuine
Figjam: Abbreviation for "F&*k I'm good, just ask me" - one who has a high opinion of themselves
G'Day : Hello
GAFA (pron. gaffa) : the big nothingness of the Australian Outback. Great Australian F**k All.
Kangaroos loose in the top paddock : Intellectually inadequate ("he's got kangaroos loose in the top paddock")
London to a brick : absolute certainty ("it's London to a brick that taxes won't go down")
Maccas (pron. "mackers") : McDonald's
Swagman : tramp, hobo
It's gone walkabout: it's lost, can't be found

Based on the small sample size, I'd say Aussie's favorite thing is to create creative local slang for calling somebody slow-witted. Not that there's anything wrong with that; we have many such local-isms back home ("The engine's running but nobody's behind the wheel", "you're not playing with a full deck of cards", "the lights are on but nobody's home"), but they have a curious flavor to the insult that is unmistakably Australian. Nobody else could work kangaroos into a scoff about somebody's brain power.

As a closing note, have I ever heard any of these sayings apart from the occasional "G'day?" The answer, as you might suspect, is no (apparently there's no colorful way to say "no" in Australia).

Down Under, Day 5: Everything, All at Once

I took this photo back on Thursday afternoon Melbourne time - the view from just inside the "gantry" set for ESPN outside Rod Laver Arena (the Australian Open's Centre Court). Things were quiet then, only a few staffers moving here and there in Melbourne Park.

Things got a little louder and noisier today.

Like any event where there's a lot of to cram in over a short span of time, the first couple of days' action in a grand slam tennis tournament is an exercise in controlled chaos. Throwing a further wrench into the plans is the fact that it RAINED today. In the summer time, in Australia. First everybody stood around for 10 minutes saying "What the hell is this?", and then panic hit the streets. Well, kind of - they had to go to all the trouble of closing the roofs over Rod Laver & Hisense Arena. Terrell Owens, who just decided to fly over here on a whim, found the whole affair funny and was quite surprised that tennis players would be allowed to play under a closed roof in order for matches to continue in adverse weather. T.O. also found time to:

1) Tweet about a live interview with Tim Rinaldi
2) Decide he wouldn't be any good at Australian Rules football (the kind with no pads)
3) Back track on not giving Aussie football a go and figure that, along with hitting some tennis balls, he'll try anything once
4) Think of more reasons to complain about every quarterback who ever threw him the ball (with the obvious exception of Buffalo QBs, who have to learn how to throw first)

In any event, the rain threw off the plan to take in "everything at once" for tennis fans because action dropped from 21 courts down to 2, but the rain wasn't all-encompassing like it was at the US Open last September, when full days of competition got washed away; only a few matches are likely to be delayed until Wednesday and then we'll be all caught up.

Unless, of course, the rains come back.

Down Under, Day 4: Monopoly Money

One of things which I have picked up on over the years is how wildly unique currency can be, and not just because of the Treasury Department's big marketing pushes to get us to the US the dollar coins or collect all '50 states' quarters. Every country has a wildly different idea about how to mark and identify its bills of sale - even the Euro design will alter depending on what part of the continent you happen to be in.

I know it's slightly odd to even be discussing such things, but Australia might just have my favorite style of foreign money. Everything is bright and stylized, printed on a heavy, almost starched brand of paper and embraces the full spectrum of colors. I was a little disappointed there wasn't a bill made in jet black to complete ensemble. To wit: $5 - Pink, $10 - Blue, $20 - Orange, $50 - Yellow, $100 - Green. Laying them out together makes a line of Australian bills look like the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat:


Not also how (and the more I travel the more I see that this happens every country except the United States), size does matter - a $100 is considerably bigger than a measly $5, not only in what it can by but in the number of times you need to fold it over in order to fit comfortably in your wallet.

The question I keep coming back to is "Why?" To be perfectly honest, I think the system we have in the US is just about as perfect as it gets when it comes to organizing and prioritizing our money. Every bill the same size, every bill the same color - and as long as we're on that topic, we should all agree that green = money. Must we feel the need to use orange and fuschia bills? We save those hues for when we want to buy Park Place precisely because they are so comical and out of place.

Despite preferring my home country's stlye, I have to admit I like seeing all the various shades and sizes that other countries put on their bills, because if the standardized "presidential green" system that we have in the United States were everywhere, traveling abroad wouldn't be anywhere near as much fun. Saving a couple of oddly sized and colored bills to put in the travel memory book is part of the proof that you went somewhere new and experienced something different. Speaking of which, although this transmission is coming back into the blogosphere early on Sunday morning, it's already late into Sunday night in Melbourne - and the real work begins at 11:00 AM sharp tomorrow as the tennis gets under way - and once that happens, things will be very different for me as far as the schedule is concerned.

To be continued...

Down Under, Day 3: Time Has Come to Today - Unless it's Already Tomorrow

When I wanted to dump Rhona Davies - she knew about it, moved to Australia, I had to wait two whole years to tell her we were through. -- Johnny Drama

It could be the time or the geography, but it quickly does seem like things are happening at a completely different pace in Australia, to the point where it seems like coming here was the equivalent of telling the rest of the world to take a big "time out - let's pick this up when I return from Brisbane. Whenever that may be."

Down here we're 17 hours ahead of New York City, so it's way beyond the 5/6 hours that separate most of the US and Europe. It's full days - if anybody happens to stumble onto this webpage and reads it tonight, by the time you were going out to party on a Friday night (let's say 10 pm your time), my Saturday was more than half over. Coming back the other way is even weirder, as you actually manage to return to the States on the same day you left - but before you actually left; roughly speaking, a plane departing SYD at 1:00 pm Monday returns to Los Angeles at 10:00 am...on Monday. People thought it was cool when Doc Brown traveled through time in his DeLorean? The pilots who fly the Sydney to Los Angeles route do it every week.

The time warp is definitely one thing that's still blowing my mind a little bit, in case you couldn't tell. Between always trying to do the math in my head about the time back home (for whatever reason I'm constantly doing double takes even though nearly every room at the Australian Open broadcast compound has two clocks, one from Melbourne & one for Bristol) and grasping how a NFL playoff game is on TV 'live' a full day after it's been played (picking the Saints big in one game, and hoping a meteor destroys the Metrodome during the second quarter of the Cowboys-Vikings game), I see where all the puns and jokes come from about Australia being its only little world. The country is big enough for it, seeing as it's the only nation-continent.

I know I'll get the hang of this time shift in the next couple of days, which ought to be just enough for me to be totally used to it by the time we all leave in two weeks, and then there's no telling what might happen. I saw what went down during seasons 4 & 5 of Lost!

Flinders St. Station main building says it's 6:30pm Saturday in Melbourne, which would make it...um...late on Friday in the US?

Down Under, Day 2: The Little Differences

If Quentin Tarantino ever feels the need to make a prequel and/or sequel to Pulp Fiction, he might set things up where the character of Vincent Vega (or the thinly veiled second coming of him) has just returned from Melbourne. Similar to Amsterdam, they got the same stuff over here that we have back in the states, but it's just a little different.

Examples?

Well, let's start with the answer to the fast food riddle "What would happen if Burger King married Jack in the Box and had a child?"


It looks like Burger King. It tastes like Jack in the Box. Do I recommend it? Not unless you happen to be stumbling home at 2:45 in the morning and are in desperate need of something greasy to scarf down. Despite the outward appearances of being some bizarro knockoff, Hungry Jack's is indeed Australia's Burger King, Whopper and all. No matter what you call it, however, Brian Kelly would advise that anybody who gets caught eating here at 3 AM is most definitely not an RKG.

Turning away from the greasy underbelly of fast food to the slightly more dignified world of the "Sandwich Artists" at Subway restaurants. Surely we can find the comforts of home there, right?


Wrong. You'd think the magic power of the $5 dollar footlong would be appreciated in any language, and certainly it would go over well in Australia considering they speak English here! Apparently not. Not only have they turned their back on the $5 footlong, their so-called "value meal" is a six-inch sub! The one positive we can take here is that this isn't some kind of drastic fleecing like it would be in the other country that puts Queen Elizabeth on its money. The US Dollar is actually slightly ahead of the Australian dollar, so $4.45 in Oz Bucks is basically $4.35 US (as opposed to Britain where the £5 footlong is really a $9.50 footlong before you include the chips and drink). Economic pluses aside, I'm not happy about leaving the footlong deal behind.

And speaking of being left behind:


Can't find it on shelves in the states. Readily available at every corner 7-Eleven in Melbourne. Which is ironic considering that it all began to unravel for Tiger when the alleged mistress was allegedly spotted allegedly checking into a Melbourne hotel...allegedly.

I may not be the world's most traveled individual, but I am definitely expanding my reach to the other side of the globe, where it certainly seems like the more things change, the more they stay the same. Just have to be aware and appreciative of all those little differences.

Down Under, Day 1

Sitting in the lobby of the Melbourne Westin, an ornately decorated hotel that would look right at home in any city of the world, it's a little stunning to consider how it was by my recollection yesterday that I left Connecticut, but in reality it was close to 55 hours ago. Time flies when you cross the international date line.

Melbourne, The World's Most Liveable City

For those of you who might be reading this in search of a context (and who could blame you, as I have fallen way, way, way off the wagon from my original pledge to put up one blog post per day) my assignment with ESPN's Event Production department has brought me to Melbourne as part of the team covering the 2010 Australian Open tennis tournament. Now that we're here, everybody is taking a moment to relax and re-charge before the real work begins over the next 17 days. Good thing too, because if I were asked to sum up the experience so far in a single sentence, here goes: "Anybody who ever said 'getting there is half the fun' has obviously never flown to Australia."

That's where the rift in time I mentioned already comes in. I left my house in Bristol around 11:30 AM on Tuesday, cramped into the regional aircraft that services Hartford's Bradley Airport and spent two brief hours within striking distance of home during a stop at O'Hare in Chicago. By the time I touched down again a little after 7 PM Pacific time at LAX, the travel portion of this trip was actually ahead of schedule yet - wasn't even close to being halfway done. Then things got interesting.

Upon arriving in Los Angeles the entire ESPN crew was greeted with the news that the plane's departure for Sydney would be delayed due to the purposely vague and always encouraging reason of "aircraft servicing". Those of you familiar with George Carlin may immediately be defaulting in your head to the phrase "BROKEN PLANE!" With a couple of extra hours already in hand I met up with First Lt. Paul Jacobs of the USAF and visited one of about four things I actually miss now that I now longer live in Los Angeles. You can all have three guesses as to what it was but if you need to use more than one you clearly haven't been paying attention.

The flight finally boarded around 12:30 AM, more than two hours after the originally stated departure time. At which point we waited...and waited...and waited, again being told that there was just some minor "aircraft service" that needed to be completed before we could officially depart. Is it just me or do the airline personnel have an unsettling talent for making a situation sound as dire as humanly possible even as they speak in an upbeat tone?

So the 14-hour flight took off four hours late and there weren't a lot of ways to speed up crossing the entire Pacific Ocean. The saving grace was setting my watch to Melbourne time before I left L.A., so I was mentally just trying to stay alive until about 11:00 PM Wednesday (Melbourne time) while in flight - 4 AM Los Angeles time. Then it was lights out until we touched down in Australia - which to my mild surprise we did, so I guess I have to pay homage to all performers of the aircraft servicing. Mild fear was a small price exacted for being able to get there safe and sound without crashing onto a mystical, shape-and-time-shifting island. (That will hardly be the last Lost reference during these two weeks of journals, by the way). It didn't exactly come as surprise though when one of my co-passengers said the flight attendant told them that, in-flight, there had been real concern we would have to divert to Fiji due to a lack of fuel. Where was Flight 815 heading when it first changed course in the pilot episode?!? That's right - Fiji!

At this point we were finally landing in Sydney around the time we should've been at a baggage carousel in Melbourne, so what was another hour or so delay - for, you guessed it, additional "aircraft servicing". There's a wonderful new addition to the great Carlin rant about the jibberish airlines use to cover up what they really mean, but I've been traveling for too long and don't quite have the wit to make it. Feel free to take your own crack at it in the comments section.

To top it all off, when I finally arrived here I discovered that "universal power adapter" I bought several months ago had the plugs for all outlets except Australian ones. That wasn't a total loss though, because I got to go experience the "World Famous Arthur Daley's Clearance House" right across the street from the hotel. I have, however, completely exhausted the laptop battery writing this, so that's the cue to wrap things up.

Also, check out the VIDEO!!! portion of the blog at the other website. Why put these in two different places? Because if there's one thing ESPN has taught me it's that you've gotta branch yourself onto as many platforms as possible. And I want to see a lot of hits on two different websites, that's why.

New Year - New Journey

Sweetheart I'm bidding you fond farewell
Murmured the youth one day
I'm off to a new land my fortune to try
And I'm ready to sail away

Far away in Australia
Soon will fate be kind
And I will be ready to welcome the lass
The girl I left behind

Must we be parted this fair one cried
I cannot let you go
Still I must leave you, the young man replied
But for only a while you know

Whether it's success or failure
I will always be true
Proudly each day in a land far away
I'll be building a home for you

Daily she waits at the old cottage gate
Watching the whole day through
Till a sweet message comes over the waves
In a new world to join two

Far away in Australia
Soon will fate be kind
And I will be ready to welcome the lass
The girl I left behind

I'll explain later.