Victory!

My indoor football team bounced back from our crushing defeat last week with a 6-2 victory this morning. The game was a closely fought encounter, but our bigger squad paid dividends - we were able to rotate our players on and off more often, meaning that we had far more left in the tank late on.

I was very happy with my performance. Playing the first half in goal, I rolled back the years to the days of kickarounds in the field behind my house in Somerset. I made a series of flying saves that were reminiscent of those I used to make against my friends back home in one-on-one games. With stinging palms I moved into the outfield for the second period and latched onto an incisive pass to slot in the goal that put us 3-2 up. Our whole team put in a much improved performance from last week and by the end we were passing the ball around nicely. I am now very optimistic about the rest of the season.  

Big Weekend Day 2: A Return to Football

The second day of my big sporting weekend did not go nearly as well as the first. The opening game of the indoor soccer league on Sunday resulted in an 8-2 drubbing for my team, or was it seven or nine? I lost count. Although we were thoroughly outclassed eventually, the match wasn’t entirely one way traffic. We made a bright start and our quick closing down was rewarded when we rushed them into an error that led to the opening goal. They equalized, but moments later we were back in front after I prodded home from inside the box. Given my lengthy absence from competitive football and my failure to find the net in the fall league, I calculated that this was my first goal for approximately ten years. At least I’m more prolific than Tony Hibbert. Brutally, our opponents scored twice right before half-time and continued where they left off in the second period, when they found their feet and passed the ball around us with ease resulting in goal after demoralizing goal flying in.

32 year old Tony Hibbert has never scored a competitive goal in his professional career.
When he scored in his testimonial against AEK Athens, a pitch invasion ensued.

The 6 v 6 game was utterly exhausting. It was played at a relentless pace and there were very few situations when the ball was deemed out of play, although nobody really knew what these situations were, even the ref! I was knackered after the match. The strain on my upper body from the huge quantity of table tennis I played on Saturday coupled with the wear and tear on my lower half from football meant that my big weekend had left my body in quite a sorry state: a sore right shoulder from hitting forehand smashes, a stiff back, aching legs, a giant blister on my left foot, and an even bigger blister on my right big toe, which erupted like a volcano when I popped it in the shower. 

Big Weekend Day 1: The Table Tennis Tournament

The first chapter in my big sporting weekend was the intermediate event of the Chi-Slam Open table tennis tournament. Would I be able to transform my recent good form on weekday nights into tournament success?

The tournament began with a round robin stage of groups of 5, with the top two in the group progressing to the knockout phase. One player from my group didn’t turn up, so two wins out of three would likely to be enough to secure my place in the business end of the event. I knew my first opponent and I expected to beat him easily, and I did, winning 3-0.

Next up was an eleven year old French boy. When I discovered he was in my group, I secretly hoped that he would be a massive brat who would throw a tantrum every time he lost two points in a row and try to cheat me on the score. Rather boringly, he turned out to be a charming young lad who’s Dad even remarked “sometimes he just likes to have fun so much he forgets to try and win”. Brat or no brat, there was simply no way I was going to lose to an eleven year old. I stormed the first game 11-3 and began to take my foot off the pedal – no need to humiliate this pre-pubescent monsieur. He won the next game to level the match and I began to sweat a little. Not much though, I would just raise my game and see him off quickly. At 7-5 down in the third game I was sweating buckets. The young chap had cut out the errors that littered the first game and was playing some quality table tennis. Meanwhile, I was struggling to find my rhythm. Was this to be the most embarrassing sporting moment of my life? At 9-8 down I simply had to win the next point. Trembling with nerves, I forced my diminutive opponent into an error and won the next two points on my serve to take the game. From then on I relaxed and won the fourth game at a canter. My final group stage opponent was a lot bigger but a lot easier to beat. I was safely through to the knockout phase.

In the last 16 I easily defeated a player who simply couldn’t handle backspin. Waiting for me in the quarter finals was my toughest opponent yet, but I started to find my game and comfortably dismissed him in straight sets. I thought little of the victory, but it had caused a bit of a stir around the building. Apparently, this player I had just knocked off 3-0 was seeded to reach the final and I was supposed to just be a weed he would trample down on the way. My tactical astuteness was key to causing this ‘upset’ – I instantly recognized that the extreme grip he possessed would struggle against chops and quick attacks to the forehand.

I was now in the semis and was determined to make the showdown. A battle ensued. I surrendered the first game 11-9 but bounced back to take a tight second. The third game would be crucial and it was back and forth until deuce at 10-10. I squandered two set points and eventually succumbed 15-13. My title challenge was hanging by a thread. However, I was still feeling confident as I had worked out some serves that he returned high, allowing me to rip a forehand smash on the next ball. If only I could increase the number of points I was taking off his serve then I could surely turn the match around. It was frustrating. His serve didn’t even have much spin on it and he wasn’t following it up that aggressively, but still I made errors on the return. The fourth game was as tight as the previous three, but I narrowly prevailed 11-8. One game to 11 would now determine whether I would play for the championship or third place. With a racing heart, I grabbed a lead and held onto it thanks to some heavy forehands. At 9-5 up on his serve, I knew I could afford to take a chance and went for a backhand down the line winner off his serve. It caught the corner of the table and I won the next point to book my place in the final.

I had seen my opponent play in the earlier rounds of the event and he looked pretty fearsome. I wasn’t afraid though, with my mental toughness and crafty tactics I might be able to pull him out of his comfort zone. My opponent was the brother of the French boy I had labored past earlier. Luckily, this Parisian was of an age where losing to him wouldn’t be humiliating. I got slapped in the first game but regrouped to take the second 11-8 after a string of errors from my opponent. Unfortunately, the Frenchman then decided enough was enough and powered forehand loop after forehand loop past me to cruise through the next two games and leave me with the runner-up trophy. A trophy! I was delighted! It may have only been the intermediate event of a small table tennis tournament but here I sit with a trophy so I will be celebrating tonight – and the trophy will be coming with me!

My runner up trophy.

A Big Weekend

I always loved the week prior to playing big tennis matches on the weekend. I lived for the feeling of anticipation and enjoyed the meticulous preparation to give myself the best possible chance of playing at my peak, even if that hardly ever happened. When I left behind college tennis I also left behind that feeling. This week it returned. I have a big sporting weekend coming up.

First up on Saturday is a table tennis tournament at Chi-Slam. I will be playing in the intermediate event and I think I have a chance to win it. It is true that I have little-to-no idea of how good other players entering the intermediate event will be, but I am feeling rather confident due to my good form at Chi-Slam over the past couple of months. Furthermore, although my preparation is pathetic compared to my careful approach to tennis matches, I had a great practice on Tuesday that was just what I needed – match practice against tough opponents with a variety of different styles.

Next up on Sunday, I am making my long awaited return to league football with the first game in a new indoor season. I am also feeling confident here. My last footballing campaign in the fall ended desolately with just one win from eight for my team, but this league is going to be a different ball game. Well actually it is the same ball game, but under very different conditions. Firstly, it is 6 v 6 indoors rather than 11 v 11 outdoors. 

Secondly, I am part of a compiled team rather than signing up as an individual and playing alongside other individuals. This, I am hoping, will result in a more consistent turnout and less variation in the ability of the players. My preparation for the football game was also brief but effective – I was happy with my touches and passing in a 7 v 7 indoor tournament on Friday.

By the end of this week, I could be a table tennis champion and have inspired my team to a winning start in the league…or I could be realizing that my table tennis game still requires much improvement and remembering that I am never quite as good at football as I like to think I am. Stay tuned to Athlete Without a Cause to find out! 

A taste of Jeppson’s Malört, Chicago’s most disgusting drink?

My roommate Steve’s eyes lit up when he saw online that Racine Plumbing, the bar we were planning to head to Saturday night, were advertising $3 shots of Malört. Steve’s roommate in college had once told him of tales of this Malört, a liquor only available in Chicago that is considered to be one of the world’s most fowl tasting beverages. Now I consider Steve’s college roommate to be a true connoisseur of awfully unpalatable alcoholic drinks and that meant only one thing: we had to try a shot of Malört.

A woman after trying a swig of Jeppson's Malort

I didn’t have to scour the internet for long to find some horrendous reviews of Malört. One bartender described it’s taste as “stomach bile and dirt” and another commented “it’s not strong, it just tastes terrible”. But what is remarkable about Jeppson’s Malört is that it’s producer makes no attempt whatsoever to claim their product tastes alright, in fact they do quite the opposite and actively promote it’s vile taste. The statement “our liquor is rugged and unrelenting (even brutal) to the palate” is written on the bottle’s label, which also boasts the fact that “only 1 out of 49 men will drink Jeppson’s Malört”. Furthermore, they picked out “it tastes like the day Dad left” as the winner of their slogan competition and the picture above was featured on their Facebook page! Legend has it that the company’s previous employee (they only have one) loved a challenge – and trying to market a drink as nasty as Malört was the ultimate challenge.

Just as our taste buds began to tremble with fear, we received some bad news. We were now going to a different bar. However, we were determined to try a shot of this legendary drink and elected to stop by Racine Plumbing on the way there. We agreed to not chase the drink, so that we would have the duration of the ten minute walk to the next bar to savor the bitter taste that “just lingers and lasts – seemingly forever” according to the brutally honest label.

So how was it? Well, actually, it wasn’t that bad. Yes it was a little unusual and unpleasant. No I did not order another shot nor will I ever order it again. Yes the peculiar aftertaste did linger nastily and yes when I burped it was the most horrific tasting burp to ever be released from my mouth. But it didn't completely ruin my night like I thought it was going to. Horrendously putrid? No. Chicago’s most disgusting drink? Probably.

The verdict? Not terrible.

Rattlesnake Ledge, the hypocrisy of Taylor Swift, and the fate of the monorail

My least favorite thing about the Midwest is not the grim winter weather, but the flatness. The shocking absence of hills or even mountains. The dearth of elevation. The void in undulation. The inexistence of peaks and the general lack of opportunities to write words in italics. Therefore during my visit to Seattle this weekend I was delighted by the variation in gradients.

There are many advantages to hills – the strengthening of calves resulting from walking up them, the opportunity they provide to do hill sprints, and on a less physical note, the variation in scenery they ensure. Most importantly however, is the view from the top of hill. I miss being able to see into the distance and being up a tall building is just not the same. Views are always best if you have worked to get them and if we were to be afforded panoramic views over Rattlesnake Lake and the Cascade Mountains then we would have to make the 2 mile zig-zag trek up to Rattlesnake Ledge.

Rattlesnake Lake and Ledge, about 30 miles east of Seattle

It wasn’t too challenging and I would love to try running up sometime. The views were nothing short of spectacular and looking out over snowcapped mountains I felt gloriously distant from the horizontal monotony of the Chicago grid system.

There are no views like this in the Midwest

Two interesting thoughts my uncle had

Taylor Swift is a hypocrite. In ‘Mean’, Swift berates a former acquaintance for being mean, repeatedly asking “why you gotta be so mean?” However, young Taylor then sings “all you are is mean and a liar and pathetic and alone in life”. If that is not a mean thing to say I don’t know what is! Sure, being mean to the mean is probably more credible than just being mean, but still, whatever happened to ‘not stooping down to someone else’s level.

Despite my above analysis of 'Mean', I still love the song

Is all transportation doomed to be entertainment? The Seattle monorail once served a real purpose – transporting visitors to the World’s Fair between the Space Needle and downtown. Now it is just a diversion for tourists, who clamor to get the much sought after spot at the front. Likewise, the horse and cart was once the speedy way to get around but now is used to carry sightseers around historic towns. Another example is the steam train’s descent from the peak of engineering to a nostalgic child-friendly joyride. Are modern modes of transport such as the motor car and airplane destined for the same fate? Will the eventual arrival of the automatically driven car lead to people driving our current cars round tracks for fun? Something to think about on a slow day. 

Will today's transport be tomorrow's entertainment?

Try This at Home

After a slow day at work, I felt like kicking off the evening with a customarily balls to the wall workout. However, I wasn’t too keen on running as the ‘feels like’ temperature was a cruel -8°F/-22°C and I am of course not a member of a gym. Not a problem, as I devised a beast of a room workout. Why not try this at home?

Warm Up: Running home from the train station (it was too cold to walk). Dynamic stretching.

3 sets of the following circuit. No rest whatsoever, except for quick sips of water.

1. Push-up position with your bum in the air, then drive legs to chest in a kind of running motion. I know these have a name, what is it? – 50 reps (one leg going forwards = one rep)
2. Push-ups – 20 reps
3. Lunges – 8 reps on each leg
4. Lying flat on your back, legs straight and 6 inches above the ground, raising each leg alternatively, keeping them as straight as possible. I should probably give these a name. 15 raises of each leg.
5. Tricep dips – 25 reps¹
6. Squats – 15 reps²
7. Side plank – 1 minute each side
8. Single leg good mornings – 8 reps on each leg³
9. Sit-ups, punching once to each side when you are up – 30 reps (up, two punches, and back = one rep)
10. Triangle push-ups– 10 reps⁴

¹ A sofa can be used to dip from
² In place of a barbell, use a Swiffer, broom, or ideally (as I had, but I can understand if you don’t) – one of those cardboard cylinders that posters come in
³ Use your two heaviest books - one in each hand and lower them towards the ground – to help balance
⁴ On the third and final set, keep going until your arms give way, causing your chest to crash down to the floor in triumph

It was a cracking workout that exercised the whole body, with little equipment and conveniently located in my own apartment! To help push myself to the max, I blasted some raucous music (At the Drive-In, Motorhead) and imagined that I was being filmed for a training montage. To those brave enough to try my workout at home – good luck!