Mondays with Marty
Mark Spitz is a Wuss
Mark Spitz is a Wuss
Mark Spitz is a wuss. Not that Michael Phelps thinks such a thought, but the constant comparisons between him and Spitz must get tiresome. On the one hand you have Phelps, perhaps the most complete swimmer in history. On the other you have Spitz, a phenom in his own right, but whose accomplishment of seven gold medals in a single Olympic Games took place almost forty years ago. Forty!
Comparing Phelps to Spitz is like comparing Spitz to Johnny Weismuller. Not to take anything away from those seven gold medals, but Spitz isn't even remotely close to being the swimmer that Phelps is. Consider: When their times are analyzed side by side, Phelps is more than seven seconds faster in the 200 fly, nine seconds faster in the 200 free, and four seconds faster in the 100 fly. Phelps and company's new 4 x 100 freestyle relay record i s fifteen seconds faster, and the 4 x 100 IM relay is eighteen seconds faster. My point is not to say that Spitz is a slug -- he wasn't -- but that Phelps is in a whole other performance stratosphere. If not for those seven golds, few modern swimmers would know of Spitz, and no commentator would even dream of comparing the two. So I can imagine it must be tiresome for Phelps to crawl out of the pool after setting yet another world record, and then face that same old question yet again: "Do you think you can break Mark Spitz' record?"
Phelps is, by all accounts, a very nice young man. So when a question like that is lobbed his way, he's only going to respond with niceties and a big smile. So I'll say the appropriate response for him: "Mark Spitz is a wuss."
Onward.
Nice to see the Brits take gold in the women's road race, just as it was nice to see America sweep the saber. I'm in that silly season when it comes to Olympic gazing, forcing myself to grit my teeth and suffer through hour after hour of gymnastics, knowing that the payoff is some actual competition. I've said it before and I'll say it again: There's no room for subjective20sports in the Olympics. Anything requiring judges can be rigged and is thus not pure. An Olympic sport should be an event where the contestants determine the winner. I'm on the fence about team sports, but I find them more appropriate than gymnastics or tandem diving (really, who let that circus stunt into the Olympic Games?).
And while we're at it, is it just me, or do the Karolyi's strike anyone else as a little creepy? A grown man and his wife running a farm where little girls are belittled and strictly rationed, wearing next to nothing while they do so. Call me crazy, but in most parts of the world they lock you up for that -- or at least ask a few hard questions about your motives.
Feels good to rant a little. Just off a plane from back east, which is why Mondays is a little late. Flew out of Baltimore at o-dark-hundred, which meant getting up three hours earlier. By the time I found my seat, it was time to sleep again. It still strikes me as miraculous that one can wake up on the Atlantic seaboard and arrive on the Pacific coast by midmorning. I was across the country in less time than it took Columbus to weigh anchor.
Finally, I think I have found something to train for. Trey Garman over at XTerra called with an invite for their Xterra Trail Running World Championships, or something like that. It's not until December, so I'd have plenty of time to get a little less plump than I'm feeling these days. Also, it would allow me to finish the new book and get through cross-country season with a minimum of distraction. I don't know the distances, and I don't know if Trey was actually extending an invitation or just testing my interest. But if Lance Armstrong can quietly train for something like Leadville and finish a solid second, which he did over the weekend, then the least I can do is find the motivation for a race that isn't even remotely as long or arduous. The man still inspires me, even from that land of semi-retirement in which he now dwells.
Mammoth next week. I'll be filing from someplace down in the meadow. Can't wait.
Keep pushing... always.
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3.26 Copyright (C) 2008 Compojoom.com / Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."
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