¿Quién es más macho?
A brief comment from the world of sport. We're all very impressed with Michael Phelps' performance at the Beijing Olympics. But younger readers who delight in having old records swept away by their peers are advised to recognize: Mark Spitz didn't have the advantage of friction-reducing swimwear (above, left); he won his medals wearing a moustache, full mane, and impressive thatches of underarm hair (pictured above right, with helmet). I had thought that he also swam with a carpet on his chest, but evidently not (Hillerns said I must have been thinking of seventies adult entertainment star Jamie Gillis). I don't know if Mr. Spitz ate 16,000 calories a day, but I do know that once he pulled himself out of the pool, he was ready to hit the airport bar. So: eight medals? Bravo, Mr. Phelps. But to that record, this correspondent must append an asterisk.
Posted by Adam McIsaac in The Sporting Life | 18 August 2008 | Permalink | Comment on this post
Still rad after all these years.
Last evening, our man Mark Conahan was featured on KPDX Channel 12's "Oregon Sports Final" with FOX sports anchor Mark Ross. The gist of the piece was to showcase the old man's (Conahan is a mighty handsome 47) ability to "shred" and—in direct contrast to the perception that skaters do little more than shred—to lobby for and develop Oregon skate parks while working in graphic design, producing his comic, Hopeless Old Men On Skateboards, and blogging (primarily about skateboarding). But mostly, it was about his ability to shred. The interior shots were produced right here at Pinch House. The balance was of Mark and other shredders deep in the concrete bowls of the very parks that Conahan helps to produce. Shredding.
Posted by Eric Hillerns in The Sporting Life | 23 June 2008 | Permalink | Comment on this post
The grass is greener.
I've received notes from a few loyal Bespoke-ians regarding the glaring omission of past Tuesday's Flickr set. For that, I will attempt to atone, but I do hope you'll allow me to explain. You see, I found myself away from from Pinch House on a junket well overdue; deep in the Deschutes canyon pursuing resident trout with a dry fly. As many of you know, it's that certain itch of mine that rarely gets the deep tissue scratching it deserves, but this past week made up for previous opportunities missed. Be warned, this post has little to with business communications. That is, unless your business is fly fishing. Or writing about it.
When my good friend, Scott Richmond (creator of Westfly and the author of more than one volume on fishing the Deschutes) suggested that we depart on Tuesday for two nights and three days, it took little to light the proverbial fire within. (The office was significantly slower than I would care to admit and too many previous weeks' end opportunities had delivered unsavory conditions. Besides, both Adam and Lisa knew that I needed out.) We had Scott's fifth wheel trailer, two inflatable boats, a king cab full of fly rods and, between us, enough boxes of tiny hooks wrapped in deer hair, elk hair, peacock, and other creatures to outfit a zookeeper's angling retreat of twenty. As we traveled up and over Mt. Hood and dropped down into the tiny desert hamlet of Maupin, our conversation ranged from the price of fuel, to what we had obviously forgotten to include while apparently covering every possible base (I; a toothbrush, pillow, and life preserver. Scott; some other stuff, I'm sure). It mattered not.
Posted by Eric Hillerns in The Sporting Life | 20 June 2008 | Permalink | Comment on this post
Page 2's Todd Boyd delivers a deft reading of the cultural, creative, and commercial significance of the 'sweet science' as American iconography in the era of Ali, Liston and Patterson.
Muses Boyd, "Boxing used to be the sport of all sports. The choreographed barbarism and the undisputed truth embodied in the raw but formal nature of this particular blood sport prompted evocative magazine covers and erudite literary essays. In many ways, the sport became so much more than just a sport. It referenced a world where the two-fisted battle against the demons of everyday life spoke to a nation in constant transition. At a time when many Americans found themselves fighting against something large, ominous and seemingly unbeatable -- be it the infectious disease of conformity, the forces of racism, or reach of the military industrial complex -- the sport provided a context, a reference point for doing battle, for fighting the good fight."
There is little doubt that boxing has receded in popularity (relegated to cult-like status for anyone but aging purists such as your correspondent) but I'd argue that Boyd's notion of the "seemingly unbeatable" opponent still lurks. Likely, in a different corner. MoMA exhibits George Lois' beautifully potent covers for Esquire magazine from 1962-1972. The good fight runs April 25, 2008 through March 31, 2009.
Posted by Eric Hillerns in The Sporting Life | 08 May 2008 | Permalink | Comment on this post
Page 1 of 1 pages |