Sweder Wrote:In this modern age, when technology turns mediocre into very good and opportunities to play what has been until recently an elitist sport are ever more plentiful, his achievements so far have been nothing short of pheonominal. I can think of few (if any) contests where a man (or woman) pits their wits and skill against such an array of talent and continually comes out on top. The law of averages, weather conditions, luck (good and bad), health, pressure . . . all these conspire to thwart such endeavour, yet time and again this man rises up, takes the challenge and squeezes it until the pips squeak.
Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote:Tiger who?
What distances does he run then?
I think Sweder means Roger Federer. You know, the unassuming guy who plies an altogether tougher trade without any need for knee operations.
Seafront Plodder Wrote:I think Sweder means Roger Federer. You know, the unassuming guy who plies an altogether tougher trade without any need for knee operations.
Ah yes, now Roger is a runner. Mind you, with the thrashing handed out to him by Rafa at Roland Garos (and have you noticed the complete lack of gloating by our Spanish compatriots here?) you have to wonder if maybe he hasn't been doing his Sunday long 'uns...?
The only problem with the Mighty Plodder's theory on Federer vs Woods is Big Rog only faces a handful of the top players in each tournament (and many knock one another out in the process) - Woods, in his own sport, takes them all on every time. Could Federer beat each and every other player in the world? Probably, but the point is he doesn't have to, therefore his accomplishments, staggering as they are, are in my view not as great by (imperfect) comparison.
It's daft trying to compare contact sports with individual, team or one-on-one. I will say that tennis players appear to bail out (usually when they're losing) at the first sign of injury - Andy Murray anyone? Ignore the hype, discard Wood's banal and at times mystifying press statements and try to see byiond his obscene wealth - look at the number and scale of the wins and what one man or woman would have to do to rack them up.
Other sportsmen and women arguably work harder and dominate their sports to an even greater degree; they just don't do so under the intense media spotlight or the weight of global expectation that Woods overcomes. I truly believe the man hails from another planet. Nike probably.
[SIZE="1"]Sweder received no endorsement from any sportswear companies in return for this statement[/SIZE]
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
1.Mohammed Ali
2.Diego Armando Maradona
3.Michael Johnson
4.Paula Ratcliffe
5.Lance Armstrong
6.Martina Navratilova
7.Ian Bothem (saw him play a few times at Somerset. He was the only man who could empty the scrumpy cider tent and he almost convinced me that cricket wasn’t boring…
Don't know much about the other sports and games..
1. Matthew Hayden
2. Mark Taylor
3. Don Bradman
4. Ricky Ponting
5. Greg Chappell
6. David Boon
7. Adam Gilchrist
8. Shane Warne
9. Dennis Lillee
10. Jeff Thompson
11. Glenn Mcrath
I know, I know ... I'm missing an all-rounder. But hey, what the heck?
Heh heh . . . I suspected this might provoke some strong responses . . .
. . . but it's a fun debate and one which just about everyone on the planet holds an opinion on. Chances are no two top tens would be the same, which shows how a) difficult and b) redundant such polls tend to be.
Armstrong is right up there. Botham too, though some of his greatest exploits relied on support of lesser-sung heros such as Dilly and Willis. Ali is often touted as the all-time greatest and certainly in his pomp he shook the sporting world. I've always felt there was an unfair amount of sympathy in the broad support for him, as if the devastating after-shocks of his brutal contests should somehow elevate him above others. Is there a sort of global embarassment that we revelled in this natural force even as he destroyed himself for our entertainment? I know that won't go down too well with everyone but it certainly clouds my thinking on the subject. When We Were Kings remains just about my favorite sport-related film though; you couldn't make it up.
Paula Radcliff? I'm a big fan, not least because I know how tough it is to run as hard as you can for so long (whatever your ability). But hasn't Paula actually under achieved? Her marathon wins are impresive but her track record remains comparatively poor. There's a sorry tale of reasons and factors that stopped her from winning, not least in major meetings, but surely the true greats (like Armstrong) simply brush those aside to scoop the gold?
Maradona is a provocative pick yet he so often makes the top ten. I find it hard to separate the cheating drug-snorter from the midfield maestro who single-handedly grabbed the World Cup for his side. He once asked Shilton if he would have complained so bitterly if an England player had done the same to Argentina in that infamous match. Of course back then I don't think an England player would have thought of doing so; not so sure now. The Hand of God detracts from his second goal, as beautiful a piece of skill as you're likely to see and one worthy of winning any tournament.
Navratilova is woefully under-rated, or at least under-recognised for her astonishing longevity at the pinnacle of her sport. Nice call.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:Paula Radcliff? I'm a big fan, not least because I know how tough it is to run as hard as you can for so long (whatever your ability). But hasn't Paula actually under achieved? Her marathon wins are impresive but her track record remains comparatively poor. There's a sorry tale of reasons and factors that stopped her from winning, not least in major meetings, but surely the true greats (like Armstrong) simply brush those aside to scoop the gold?
I chose Paula Ratcliffe solely on the basis of that 2:15 wondertime and
I'm not sure if there are many UK males who'd beat that at the moment. Try doing a marathon distance in 2:15 on a bike and it'll really drum home the immensity of the record. She also owns 4 of the top 5 fastest women's marathon times in history.
I still need 3 more for a top ten...
And MLCM's obsession with cricket is starting to worry me...
Speaking of trying to match paces last year in France I borrowed a regular sit-up-and-beg bicycle and strapped on my Garmin. I hit the (slightly downhill) trail into town and tried to keep up 4-minute mile pace. I didn't last long. On a bike. So I know what you mean.
Well we've established these list things are pretty personal . . . Ryan Giggs would probably make my top ten (as the sole footballer) yet he never had an international stage worth speaking of and if I'm honest it's also partly due to his being a damned decent sort of fellow.
How about restricting yourself to one person per sport? That would at least stump MLCman, except he'd probably count test match cricket, one day internationals, 20/20, his back garden . . .
There's just no hope for some people
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
There was a time in my life when spending the first few hours of a Sunday getting hot 'n' sweaty with several lustrous females was a misty-eyed dream, proof positive of a successful Saturday night. These days it means an early downland lumber with the hounds, and right hot 'n' sweaty it was. A weeks' worth of Amsterdam excess sought exodus from my wobbly corpulence, time constraints and lack of form reducing this outing to a modest 5k. Thank God I'd decided against joining the Sunday crew for a longer session - I'd most probably still be out there. Strong warm winds swept across the hilltops, heavy trees swaying mesmerically like seaweed in a strong tide. My track du jour slipped out of the ether to hammer home the bleedin' obvious; The Shape I'm In by The Band.
Having postponed Father's Day due to being away last weekend I elected to spend my day of choice watching my daughter compete in the Heart of the South Freestyle Dance Championships in Burgess Hill. I'd not committed to a full day's dance comp for almost a year so this was long overdue. As chance would have it I couldn't have picked a better day. Phoebe and her partner, in keeping with some of the teams still in Euro 2008, had a shocker first up and were fortunate to reach the knock-out stage. Like me my daughter rails against early starts and her mutinous body almost cost them a place in the Under 14's Pairs final, the heats starting at 9 o'clock sharp. When they scraped through by a whisker I gave them a good old-fashioned Kingston Kestrels two-nil-down-at-half-time team-talk along the lines of how darned lucky they were to still be in and to go out there and give it everything.
They didn't need further prompting, beating a strong field of five to carry off first place and win a place in the Champions final. Here they would compete against the winners of the U10's, U12's, U16's and over 16's, performing a carefully rehearsed spotlight routine before all couples took to the floor for the final round of judging. As they strode off the dancefloor, eyes sparkling, broad smiles gleaming, I leaned in to whisper 'well done; only one winner there'. And so it proved, the pair carrying off a pot that wouldn't look out of place at the Devilbowl. I almost burst with pride.
And that would have been rather unpleasant for the gathered great and good of the South of England freestyle dancing community as there's quite a lot of me to go around.
I'll set to the task of lard-lathing this week.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Not sure I'd have grounds to complain about thread hi-jacking on here :o
There's a soggy gag about both being involved in some form of entertainment racket but I'm frankly too knackered to think of it. There are some great look-a-likes at Euro 2008; that Turkish manager IS Terry Venables, Phil Scolari looks remarkably like Popeye Doyle and the Italian team look like a bunch of wash-up whingers who should be on their way ho - oh.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Seafront Plodder Wrote:Err, sorry to hijack your diary, but speaking of Federer, have you noticed that you never see him and Quentin Tarantino in the same room together?
Judging by his performance in Pulp Fiction, I'd have to say Federer is not a bad actor either.
Oh yes, and congrats on the dancing thing Sweder, but would you mind not hijacking SP's threads?
Speaking of the dance thing, when we arrived at the Leisure Centre venue just before 9 am a local triathlon was reaching its sweaty climax. The car park looked like the scene at Universal recently when a couple of film sets went up in flames; runners in three-quarter gear, numbers smeared on their legs, dodged streams of girls decked out in garish glitter-splashed dance outfits replete with ostrich feather headpieces all dragging brightly coloured make-up closets. I love it when worlds collide.
It did make me think back to Niguel's dalliance with triathlons. Apart from swimming like a brick and having no cycle to speak of I'd really like to have a crack at one before they cart me off to the rest home for burned-out trade-show victims . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:It did make me think back to Niguel's dalliance with triathlons. Apart from swimming like a brick and having no cycle to speak of I'd really like to have a crack at one before they cart me off to the rest home for burned-out trade-show victims . . .
Me too. The problem, as you say, is swimming like a brick.
June looks set to end with a running whimper.
Heat and hayfever combined to add insult to leg-weary injury this morning. I can't call it a run, more a stagger, an ugly stumble over sun-drenched hills. Brown tints flecked the green bushes, parched plants screaming silently for water. The ground was dry and dusty, rock hard underfoot, unforgiving.
There's no hint of rain on the five-day horizon. Last night I took advantage of the current lack of a hose ban and flooded my newly planted front garden. A small lake formed around the flowering pear tree, yet by morning just the faintest hint of a damp patch remained. The sun gets up mighty early here - around 4.30 am - putting in a full sixteen hour shift with little or no cloud cover. Brutal.
Alice Cooper's Poison helped haul me up Blackcap, miraculously without a walk-break or an outright stop. By the time I'd started running, well into the homeward section at around three and a half miles, I was rewarded with a favorite Pink Floyd track, Sheep from Animals. I reached home, shirt soaked, eyelids swollen with pollen, to see Tess, the Naughtiest Whippet In The World [SIZE="1"]TM[/SIZE] parked outside the front door. She'd bailed out early, perhaps to spare herself the sight of her master's ungainly shuffling but most likely because she's reaching a stage when she can't hack these runs any more. At twelve years she's old for an active whippet. I'll be heartbroken if she can't come along any more. We'll have to see.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
grabbed the World Cup for his side. He once asked Shilton if he would have complained so bitterly if an England player had done the same to Argentina in that infamous match. Of course back then I don't think an England player would have thought of doing so; not so sure now. The Hand of God detracts from his second goal, as beautiful a piece of skill as you're likely to see and one worthy of winning any tournament.
