Ping Pong
The only two sports that are called what they sound like are ping pong and canoeing. Ping pong isn’t even called ping pong, it’s called table tennis – what blatant crap, when was the last time you saw a table offer a choice of surfaces, grass, clay or that blue stuff that‘s probably made of rubber or something? It’s ping pong because that’s, sort of, the sound it makes.
Canoeing is so called because when you are rolled upside-down by a wave and are being swept towards some deadly rocks, the sound you hear when seventeen gallons of water are forced into your ears is: ‘canooooooooooo’
Problems present themselves. Many winter sports simply make that ‘shussshh’ sound.
But not when you listen closely. Skiing makes a ‘shush, shush, shush, shush, shush’ sound, speed skating makes a ‘shushshushshushshushshush’ sound. The four man bob sounds like this: ‘Aggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh’. The luge is quite different, not only is the pitch of the scream several decibels higher, it’s follow up with: ‘Fuuuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkkkk!’.
The great thing about renaming sports is that it pricks pretence. For instance, boxing. Boxing would be renamed ‘Oof!’. Boxing can be defined as two blokes knocking the hell out of one another, but the boxing federation spits people up by weight, so suddenly there’s bantam weight, seagull weight, vulture weight, heavy weight, yo momma weight and Of Course You Don’t Look Fat In That Outfit weight (women’s boxing). Still want weight classes? Okay, It’s called Oof! And you can differentiate by using different fonts and point sizes.
Formula 1 racing? Easy. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
To be good at sports you can’t rely on natural ability, or even magic boots. You can’t even rely on drugs anymore, not just because of the testing but because you just know that the bastard in lane two has managed to get some of the good stuff.
The situation is fast developing where just about everything we eat has some kind of banned substance in it, at least that’s how athletes facing a ban plead. Apparently their kebab, unknown to them, had ginsing root, steroids and some sort of horse stimulant in it. Unless they are able to pull a horse-shoe out of the chilli sauce bucket at the kebab van to substantiate this, it’s unlikely to get them off.
The argument that an athlete can accidentally take some sort of banned performance enhancing substance is, of course, complete tripe (100% steroid free tripe). If everyone is unknowingly chowing down on food adulterated with performance enhancing drugs, why is the news full of stories about everyone getting fatter? It should be about burger inhaling kids breaking the world record for the egg and spoon race on school sports day.* (Headline: ‘fast food!’).
Just about the only stimulant left to athletes is an iPod with some inspirational music on it (‘Gold’ by Spandau or the ‘Rocky’ theme), or a coach willing to stick a dab of mustard on the end of his finger and stick it up your arse at the start of the race. Even then the Japanese would have the edge: wasabi.
*A nostalgic aside, I recall that at my primary school the starter was always the caretaker, because he had a pistol. As a child I thought nothing of it but now realise that it was obviously some revolver he’d probably prised out of the hands of a Jap in Burmah after a machete fight, and that sports day organisation meetings probably went thus:
Deputy Headmistress: And for the position of Starter this year…
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Yesss, I’m not sure that’s appropriate.
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Maybe the children would prefer something less…
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Just because you have a starting pistol does not mean…
Headmaster: (Smiling benevolently, filling pipe) That’s not what he means Marjory.
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Oh.
Headmaster: Our Caretaker will be Starter. As usual. Next?
I thought all school sports days had a caretaker with a WWII sidearm starting races. To this day I can’t really run unless I have the smell of gunpowder and the screams of an accidentally shot badger to encourage me,
Canoeing is so called because when you are rolled upside-down by a wave and are being swept towards some deadly rocks, the sound you hear when seventeen gallons of water are forced into your ears is: ‘canooooooooooo’
Problems present themselves. Many winter sports simply make that ‘shussshh’ sound.
But not when you listen closely. Skiing makes a ‘shush, shush, shush, shush, shush’ sound, speed skating makes a ‘shushshushshushshushshush’ sound. The four man bob sounds like this: ‘Aggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh’. The luge is quite different, not only is the pitch of the scream several decibels higher, it’s follow up with: ‘Fuuuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkkkk!’.
The great thing about renaming sports is that it pricks pretence. For instance, boxing. Boxing would be renamed ‘Oof!’. Boxing can be defined as two blokes knocking the hell out of one another, but the boxing federation spits people up by weight, so suddenly there’s bantam weight, seagull weight, vulture weight, heavy weight, yo momma weight and Of Course You Don’t Look Fat In That Outfit weight (women’s boxing). Still want weight classes? Okay, It’s called Oof! And you can differentiate by using different fonts and point sizes.
Formula 1 racing? Easy. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
To be good at sports you can’t rely on natural ability, or even magic boots. You can’t even rely on drugs anymore, not just because of the testing but because you just know that the bastard in lane two has managed to get some of the good stuff.
The situation is fast developing where just about everything we eat has some kind of banned substance in it, at least that’s how athletes facing a ban plead. Apparently their kebab, unknown to them, had ginsing root, steroids and some sort of horse stimulant in it. Unless they are able to pull a horse-shoe out of the chilli sauce bucket at the kebab van to substantiate this, it’s unlikely to get them off.
The argument that an athlete can accidentally take some sort of banned performance enhancing substance is, of course, complete tripe (100% steroid free tripe). If everyone is unknowingly chowing down on food adulterated with performance enhancing drugs, why is the news full of stories about everyone getting fatter? It should be about burger inhaling kids breaking the world record for the egg and spoon race on school sports day.* (Headline: ‘fast food!’).
Just about the only stimulant left to athletes is an iPod with some inspirational music on it (‘Gold’ by Spandau or the ‘Rocky’ theme), or a coach willing to stick a dab of mustard on the end of his finger and stick it up your arse at the start of the race. Even then the Japanese would have the edge: wasabi.
*A nostalgic aside, I recall that at my primary school the starter was always the caretaker, because he had a pistol. As a child I thought nothing of it but now realise that it was obviously some revolver he’d probably prised out of the hands of a Jap in Burmah after a machete fight, and that sports day organisation meetings probably went thus:
Deputy Headmistress: And for the position of Starter this year…
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Yesss, I’m not sure that’s appropriate.
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Maybe the children would prefer something less…
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Just because you have a starting pistol does not mean…
Headmaster: (Smiling benevolently, filling pipe) That’s not what he means Marjory.
Caretaker: I have a gun.
Deputy Headmistress: Oh.
Headmaster: Our Caretaker will be Starter. As usual. Next?
I thought all school sports days had a caretaker with a WWII sidearm starting races. To this day I can’t really run unless I have the smell of gunpowder and the screams of an accidentally shot badger to encourage me,
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home