September 14, 2005

Crazy Kids

Did you ever have a little cousin, maybe three, four years old, always running around, non-stop motor, velcro sneakers and a slightly crazed look in his eyes? We all know this kid, right? The one who's tugging at the leg of your leather pants (or corduroy, if that's your preference) while you're sitting at the table trying to do what adults do after meals, which is recline, comment about how great the meal was and see if they can sneakily squeeze out farts without being noticed.

After a while, of course, the kid keeps on asking you to come play with him, and you relent. Sure kid, I'll run around with you. Here's a stick -- here's a stick. Now go get it! (You throw the stick.)

You know the routine. After a while of running away from you or running after whatever you happen to throw across the lawn, the kid gets tired, because that's what kids do. The only difference between dogs and little kids in situations like these is that dogs usually stop and take a dump somewhere on the yard during the whole charade (of course, if you have a particularly troublesome kid on your hands, he might stop to take a dump as well). Poop break or no, the one certainty about the situation is that the dog (or child) eventually gets worn out and has to stop.

I bring this up because apparently, in a place which I am led to believe is very far away from here known as "India," there is a child, name of Budhia Singh, age three, who runs quite a bit more than the average child playing on the front lawn. Seems young Budhia, for reasons that are very much unclear, awakens each day at 5 a.m. to begin running, and does not stop until noon. He then is allowed some food and a nap (how kind!) before he begins running again at 4 p.m. He does all of this because his coach, a chemically imbalanced fellow by the name of Biranchi Das, believes this three-year-old has a shot at getting his name in the Guinness Book of World Records.

Fascinating stuff. And exactly what record is it he's aiming for, Mr. Das? Youngest child to die from completely inhumane and apparently unnecessary marathon training?

Another question I want answered: Why the hell does a three-year-old need a coach? Most of the three-year-olds I know can't even open a Capri Sun, so they're certainly not going to listen to someone lecturing them about pacing themselves, or proper stride length, or how to avoid dying when running absurdly long distances at age three.

But what do I know? Seems like kids are getting older much faster these days. You got kids running around the city with cell phones, two-way pagers, hovercrafts. Sheeeeeit, when I was three I wore OshKosh B'Gosh overalls, and I was excited when I was deemed old enough to get a digital watch. Maybe running marathons is just what three-year-olds do now. How times have changed...
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-ESP-aNnoyance: The Worldwide Leader in Irritation has agreed to a new eight-year, $2.37 billion deal to keep Major League Baseball as part of its increasingly unwatchable lineup. I will admit, live sports coverage is one of the few things that ESPN still does quite well, so I'm not angry per se to see MLB staying with ESPN. More than anything, I'm stunned at the magnitude of the deal. I'm no economist -- the only checkbook balancing I do is trying to make the thing fit on an overly crowded shelf -- but this sure seems like a lot of shilling to dole out for the rights to MLB considering that ESPN's current deal (set to expire at the end of this season) is six years, $850 million. But I guess we've already established that I'm behind the times. Maybe $2.4 billion isn't that much money anymore.

-Remember last month when I wrote about the worst sports injuries I'd ever seen? Of course you don't. But if you did remember, you'd know that I made reference to one unforgettable day in 1992 when Braves' catcher Greg Olson got plowed over at home plate by Ken Caminiti, breaking his ankle. Just so happened that in the aftermath of the incident, TBS cameras caught a young OCC, in attendance at the game, rubbing fake tears out of his eyes and pointing down towards Olson on the field. When I wrote about this, I half-jokingly asked if anyone out there could get this footage. Turns out my cousin Greg -- a man who, in the tradition of Red from Shawshank, knows how to get things -- tracked down the footage in question. Watch closely when the cameras pan the crowd about 30 seconds in. Yours truly is towards the right side of the screen in a white t-shirt and horrendous haircut, while yours truly's dad is just to the left in a blue shirt. Bravo, Greg.

4 Comments:

Blogger Frank G Yak said...

Wait -- your cousin finds obscure footage of you at a Braves game from 13 years ago and you write an entire column about a 3 year old who runs around his yard.

Not that I didn't enjoy learning about a crazy Indian runner, but I think that footage plus shots of Mark Lemke, David Justice, Jim(m)y Willams, etc... needs a "whatever happened to" column.

Nevertheless, Fantastic Footage, boatdrinks.

12:39 PM, September 15, 2005  
Blogger Gavin said...

What's up, Ramon?

7:24 PM, September 15, 2005  
Blogger Aimee Berg said...

I never could figure out how to open those damn Capri Sun boxes.

11:10 PM, September 16, 2005  
Blogger Barbi Poskanzer said...

Me neither.

11:25 PM, September 16, 2005  

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