Do You Realize?

Texas Longhorn Game Day Fashion 101

I went to visit Eldest at school this weekend. It was the weekend of their first game (Saturday), so I got to experience Austin in full game-day glory. Can you grasp the concept of 150,000 people shoved into one relatively small area, all dressed in burnt orange? I felt positively blasphemous in my turquoise tank top.

Now, normally, Austin fashion falls into the "anything goes" category. It's quite the melange. There's a bit of every possible fashion sense to be found in Austin, which makes it pretty groovy in my book. You'll always be grounded to the Longhorn aesthetic by a goodly number of students in their "Hook 'Em Horns" orange gear, but it's usually a small smattering, just enough to remind you of where you are. The goal of fashion in general here is to wear what you like, like what you wear, and hope that a little piece of you shines through.

Game days, on the other hand, are a completely different story. The entire city's fashion aspirations magically align, and suddenly everyone looks fantastic in burnt orange. The goal suddenly becomes totally different. A little more challenging in some respects. On game days, it is imperative that you wear something, ANYTHING, in the only color that exists on the color wheel: burnt orange. However, you still want your personality to make an appearance, so the big trick is to search for clothing items that are your style but made in that one hideous, unifying color. The entire second floor of the Co-op is reserved for women's clothing (with a stunning array of styles but not much in the way of color selection)! I saw girls in cute little shift dresses in burnt orange, polos in burnt orange, flip flops in burnt orange, Soffe shorts in burnt orange, baseball tees in burnt orange, and on and on it went; it was truly a sight to behold, this veritable ocean of orange threatening to pull you under in its insidious current.

Something strange overcomes you when you go to Austin. Even those of us with no school spirit to speak of suddenly have the urge to "throw the horns" and buy something hideously orange. Even me. Yes, even me.

Sore Sports

Today I was planning to write a post about my first bicycle ride in a year or more. I rode ten miles yesterday, three of them with 27 pounds of groceries. (I now feel as if I've had repeated rough sex with a bull elephant seal.)

However, I was reading the sports news this morning, and started wondering about how Mark Spitz reacted when Michael Phelps broke his single-Olympic record of seven gold medals; Phelps made Olympic history last night, winning his eighth, with the help of three teammates. When I read this article, I decided to change my post. It's still about soreness and sports, just in different terms.

Apparently, Mark Spitz is sore that the International Olympic Committee did not invite him to watch Michael break his record, nor hang Phelps's medals around his neck. Perhaps they did this because, in 2004, when Phelps first attempted to break his record, he was invited, and he made such a big deal about not getting any face time on television, they thought the better of a second invitation. Perhaps they did this because, even in his prime, he was an ass, disliked by his teammates for his detachedness and propensity for playing mind games. Perhaps they did it because Mark Spitz is always determined to make things all about Mark Spitz, and this day should have been (and was, thanks to Spitz's absence) about Michael Phelps.

This woman, Debbie Schlussel, has nothing but glowing praise to lavish upon Mark Spitz; she seems to think he must shit rose petals and purple unicorn dust. She demands from one commenter, who points out that she spoke with a former Olympic alternate who greatly disliked Mark Spitz, to know names, NAMES of people who actually knew Mark Spitz and felt this way, because SURELY no one who knew Mark Spitz could think that he doesn't shit rose petals and purple unicorn dust, yo.

Well, let's see. I'll venture that his former Olympic teammate, Steve Genter, felt that way. Genter, even after suffering a partially collapsed lung and surgery to repair it less than a week prior, and broken stitches in the first leg of the race in question, Genter was leading with 25 meters to go. Spitz only beat him, bleeding wound and all, to the gold medal by less than two meters. Afterward, Genter angrily revealed that Spitz had spent the time before the race trying to convince him not to compete; Debbie Schlussel would no doubt say it was concern, but Genter, knowing Mark Spitz, felt it was more of an attempt to psych him out, knowing Genter was Spitz's main competition.

Spitz also wants the world to know that he probably could have taken eight medals, too, if they'd only had the 50 meter freestyle, as they do now. AND he wants the world to know that Michael Phelps will probably break his record because they are so much alike.

Not on your life, Mark Spitzer. Michael Phelps is loved by his teammates and the world can see his humility and love for the sport, not just someone who is in it for himself and all the fame he can wring out of it. Bottom line: Yes, it would have been nice to have a supportive, humble, quiet Mark Spitz at Beijing when Phelps broke his record. However, knowing Spitz's propensity for self-aggrandizing when he should be there just to bear witness to Olympic history in the making, I'm supportive of the IOC's decision not to bend over backwards to make sure he was specifically singled out and invited. If he wanted to be there for the love of the sport and to support Phelps, he should have called Phelps or his people and asked for tickets, but not on anyone's dime but his own. And don't expect a camera to lovingly caress your face every time you open your mouth.

There are so many more issues I have with the Phelps naysayers that I can't even address them here and stay on-topic. I will, however, say that to minimize Phelps's success based on the argument that increased technology (better suits, pools, strokes, etc.) made it all possible is ridiculous. Perhaps these people missed the part about Phelps being a physiological anomaly perfectly suited to swimming. The man is a phenomenal athlete, and it's time to give him his due.