Something For Everyone

I was off work on Wednesday, and I was excited that this would allow me to watch the U.S. vs. Algeria game on my own TV (instead of my work computer) as well as Andy Roddick's second round match at Wimbledon.

Andy's match was up first at 8am.  He lost the first set but was playing much more solidly thereafter.  By the time the US game came on, I thought he was in control of the match, so I dialed the match up on my laptop (thank you for existing, ESPN3) and changed the TV to the soccer game.  I learned that given the tempo of a soccer game and the breaks between points and games in a tennis match, it is possible to watch both simultaneously without really missing anything too important.  Andy won his match in 4 sets, looking strong after that first set mishap.

In the first half of the soccer game, I felt like the US controlled the ball, so I thought they had a good chance to win though the score was nil-nil at halftime.  I felt like they got ripped off when another goal was disallowed (beautiful goal, too!) but at least this time it was just a bad off-sides call.  Last time, who the heck knows what happened?  I liked Coach Bradley's suggestion that when a referee regrets calling a foul, he sometimes decides he is going to prevent that foul from changing the game, and so the referee might have disallowed the goal in order to reverse the call on the foul against Altidore.  But who knows.

By halftime, I was aware that the Isner/Mahut match that had been suspended due to darkness on Tuesday night was still going, so I flipped the tv over to watch that.  At that point, it was not quite record breaking yet, but still getting very interesting.  By now, you've all heard about this unprecedented match.  When the soccer came back on, I flipped back over.  In the second half, I felt like the US had quite a few great scoring chances, but they just couldn't convert.  As the minutes ticked away, I was trying to console myself about the failure to advance, telling myself that if they couldn't manage a single win, they didn't deserve to move forward.  Then time ran out and they announced there were about 4 minutes of stoppage time left.  That's a lot, I thought!  And then I saw Landon Donovan bring the ball all the way down the field, pass it off to Altidore, and score a goal because he followed Dempsey's deflected shot.  (Always follow your shots, Dad and Bart told us repeatedly growing up.)  I screamed!  I jumped!  I shouted GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLL!  I freaked Oscar out!  I waited for it to be called back!  It wasn't!  I thought Coach Bradley looked like he wanted to go jump on the pile!  I realized the US won the group!  I wondered if this could be the game that American kids will cite in 15 years when they're leading the US team to victory!  I ran out of exclamatory things to do!

Update: Want to relive the excitement?  Check out this video!

I hoped for Lando to do the shirt swap thing.  (He didn't.  Bummer.)  I liked his post game interview, in which he rubbed his eyes as if to stop tears, and then managed to compose himself to give a great wrap-up.  I liked that he said "you can't miss from there."  I liked when he said "Hi Bianca" and blew her a kiss at the end of the interview.  (He is divorced from this Bianca Kajhlich, but I like her, and I like that he speaks well of her despite the split.  He credits her with helping him realize that a lot of people work really hard to try to earn the opportunities that he was handed because he's so talented.  And I believe Bianca could take any of the British WAGs, any day of the week.)

And then I switched back to the Isner/Mahut match, at which point I entered some kind of trance.  I could not believe what I was seeing.  I could not leave the couch.  I never felt strongly that the match was going to end.  I was convinced it would get called again on account of darkness, even though I started watching it about noon my time, and it didn't get called until about 4:10.  I couldn't believe Mahut was still leaping around.  I felt sure that Isner was nearly passing out.  As I neared the end of my race Sunday, I experienced a sensation that I can only describe as "out of my head."  It's sort of a combination of fatigue and adrenaline, and it's a thrilling sensation, but I also worry that it is one step away from passing out, so I try to get rid of it as quickly as possible.  When they interviewed Isner after play was suspended the second time, I am fairly sure he was "out of his head."  How long had he been in this altered mental and physical state?  Did he have any idea what was going on?  I thought to myself, Andy and the US were playing today?  At that point, those contests both seemed like ancient history.

(Isner and Roddick on the changeover during their semi-final at the Legg Mason last year.  Andy got him that time, but Isner won their matchup in the US Open.)

So today I tuned in at work (thanks again, ESPN3) to see Isner finally topple Mahut 70-68.  Truth be told, I thought Mahut deserved to win the match even though I'm an Isner fan.  Mahut held up better physically, and since he was serving second, he was under more pressure the entire time.  He heard the phrase "Isner leads" 70 times, on every single changeover.  Had he broken Isner, he still would have had to serve out a final game to earn the win.  When Isner broke Mahut, he could collapse onto the court.  I think it's fitting, though, that Isner won, because I think he's at the front end of a notable career.  While we'll always remember that Mahut played a part in this legendary match, I think we'll look back on Isner's successful career and say, "Remember when he introduced himself to the world by holding serve 70 times in a row?"

John Isner on the practice courts at the Legg Mason, August 2009.  Yes, he's tall!

Last week, I watched a documentary film on ESPN called June 17, 1994.  On this day in American sports, the Rangers held their ticker tape parade for winning the Stanley Cup, the Knicks played the Rockets in the NBA finals, Chicago hosted the opening ceremony for the 1994 World Cup, and OJ Simpson took that famous ride in the white Bronco.  The film was awesome, and is evidently showing again on June 30, July 15, and July 31.  I'll long think of June 23, 2010 as another epic day in American sports for much more positive reasons!  And I was home to watch it all!

("Something For Everyone" is an essay from David Sedaris's 1998 collection, Naked.  After graduation, he finds himself unemployed, and he watches some TV before he begins working on an old lady's house renovation.  She says she's so old that it hurts her arm to raise a paintbrush.  I cringe to think how bad it must have hurt Isner to raise his arm when he woke up this morning.)

Just Me and My Dad

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

My local running club holds a father's day 10k every year.  I really like this idea, because running reminds me of my dad.  When my dad was my age, he ran, too, until his doctor told him he had to stop.  When I was 14 and trying out for the WLHS soccer team, and I was required to run 2 miles as part of the try out, he helped me run 2 miles in 16 minutes as part of my training.  (That's still the fastest 2 miles I've ever run, I believe.)  When I was 21, my dad flew to Chicago to see me run in the Chicago Marathon.  Last year, I decided that running a half marathon to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation was the best way I could honor my dad's fight with cancer, and I've been running ever since.  In last year's Father's Day 10k, I ran my best 10k time with the best race pace I've run in any race, ever.  I was extra excited for this year's race because Billy's parents, Patti and Chuck, were planning to come cheer me on.

This morning, I ran my worst race ever-- no exaggeration.  It was around 80 degrees with high humidity at race time.  I was doing well through mile 4 (of 6.2) and then I bonked.  During mile 5, I thought I was going to throw up.  During mile 6, I thought I was going to have to stop to walk.  But the signs they had placed up along the course kept reminding me it was father's day, so I thought about what my dad would have said: just keep going until you can't go anymore.  And I found that I could keep going until I crossed the finish line, even though my time was about 6 or 7 minutes slower than last year's PR, even though I lost my most recent cup of water after I stopped.  Oops.  

I know what my dad would have said then, too.  "Are you okay?" followed by "at least you finished hard."  That's what my dad has taught me my whole life, and continues to teach me in his own battle with cancer: accept the challenge, remain determined, and finish as hard as you can.  That way, even if the  results you achieve are not necessarily what you had hoped for, you know you've given it your best shot.

Thanks, Dad.

(Just Me and My Dad is a children's book from the Little Critter books by Mercer Mayer.  I loved these books when I was a kid, and I couldn't choose any title from "classic literature," because for a multitude of reasons, "father" seems to be a bad word among writers.)

Unaccustomed Earth

Usually I write blog entries when I think I have something interesting to say.  Since the conclusion of my semester, I haven't really been doing anything I find interesting, but maybe some of my readers are wondering what's going on with me.  Or they just miss having something to read when they happen to pop by the blog.  So here goes- a completely random collection of thoughts.

This week I finished reading Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri.  I really liked it.  Sometimes "immigrant" narratives are difficult for me to relate to, but she frames the collection with this quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Custom House":
Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil.  My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth.
As someone who is making a life for herself in a place very different from the place where she grew up, this provided a great point of entry for me.  (This in itself marks a shift in my reading-- normally I'm trying to analyze the book for what it says, not judging it based on how easily I can relate it to my own life.  This is one thing I consider when I read for fun.)  This book felt like the right place to start my summer reading, because "vacation" feels like unaccustomed earth to me at this point, too.

Monday was my first day at home by myself since I finished my semester, and what did I do?  After I went for a run and bid goodbye to Vickie, I spent most of the day reading.  On any given day that I'm home during the semester, I spend most of the day reading, as well.  So I guess I'm in the right program, right?  (I certainly didn't mind putting the book down when Billy got home, though.)

Speaking of running, I have a 10k coming up on Father's Day.  I did really well in this race last year, running the fastest pace I've ever run competitively.  I'd like to beat that time but I'm not sure how likely that is.  I think it depends mostly on the weather, because as I was reminded a few weeks ago, it's a lot harder to run in heat and humidity.  I'm looking forward to the race, though!  I love the 10k distance.

I found out that my paper on Margaret Garner and Harriet Beecher Stowe's Dred has been accepted for the Reading Comparatively: Theories, Practices, Communities conference at UMd in November.  I'm excited to have found a life for this project beyond the seminar paper because I feel like the argument is really interesting, and I invested a lot of time in that research.  I'm terrified about presenting on a panel alongside Mary Helen Washington, Edlie Wong (who is joining our faculty), and a fellow graduate student whose dissertation-in-progress on slavery, law, and literature has already won two awards.  I guess this is how it's going to continue to be for me at UMd:  I'll keep trying to jump head first into the deep end, and they'll keep letting me.

After having Vickie here for a couple weeks, it is a little weird now that she is gone.  I guess it is a good sign that I am looking forward to her return at the end of the summer instead of thinking "phew, glad she's gone."  : )  If Oscar could speak, I'm sure he'd ask me daily when she is coming back.  He misses his daily walks and he can't figure out why we are not attending to his every whim.  I am also amused that Vickie has traveled several thousand miles since she left and the sheets on her bed that I intended to wash after she left have not yet moved an inch.  I find it exceptionally hard to accomplish anything when I'm not busy.  Does this happen to anyone else?  After she left, I finally did some picking up around the house because the mess got on my nerves.  I accomplish a lot more in a given day if I have to pay attention to what needs to be done.  With a wide-open schedule, I waste a lot of time and then wonder where it all went.

On Tuesday morning, my normally 40-60 minute commute took me two hours.  I got out of work late. The shoes I had delivered didn't fit.  The anemometer Billy had delivered was broken.  The mechanic who was fixing my car for the second time in as many weeks called to say that on the follow-up test drive, he hadn't secured the hood, and so it flew up and smashed the windshield.  I found out that during the week in August that we had been planning to return to visit the family and the girls' new babies, I have to be at work for "professional development."  My dad found out that he would have to start getting bi-weekly infusions of Avastin to stop the spread of his cancer.  That day felt like a kick in the stomach.

Other things have been going better.  I just returned from a relaxing lunch with Danielle, in which I didn't have to feel guilty about taking time out of my day for myself or returning ASAP to get back to work.  I met with the director of the first year writing program about the class I'll be teaching in the fall, and I'm starting to get excited for that.  Billy and I went into DC last night to meet up with some of his old work friends at a party our friend Will hosted on his condo building's rooftop deck, which has a great view of the city and a nice breeze.  We are building a nice little community of readers and commenters at Scholar Style Guide.  I have almost summoned the necessary energy to return to the paper I presented at the Narrative conference, revise it, and submit it for publication consideration.  The World Cup has begun and I had a good time watching the U.S. put up a good fight against England.  (Random fact that maybe only Liz knows: Jozy Altidore, who had a great shot on goal yesterday, is one of the many beneficiaries of the support of the Andy Roddick Foundation.  The foundation helped pay for his education and his training until he was signed professionally.)

Are you still reading?  Thanks for taking an interest in my summer break, then.  I don't have any recent pictures, but I'll leave you with a few from our graduation cookout.  Thanks Heather, for snapping so many photos!  (Click to enlarge)

And one more- an out-take from Scholar Style Guide in which Oscar decided to pose and join me:

Death in the Afternoon

When I was teaching high school, we talked about how Hemingway coined the term "grace under pressure,"  and I showed them his episode of A&E's "Biography," which explains Hemingway's relationship to bullfighting, about which he wrote Death in the Afternoon.  In short, Hemingway had a deep respect for bullfighting because he considered matadors to be the individuals who best demonstrated grace under pressure.

One of the reasons I love sports so much is because they afford athletes opportunities to demonstrate grace under pressure.  This week we got two great examples.

Pitching a perfect game in baseball is a demonstration of grace under pressure-- history shows that maintaining your mental composure enough to keep making outs until the very end is an almost impossible feat.  We all know that Jim Joyce botched the call at first base and ruined Armando Galarraga's chance to have a perfect game recorded in the books, but what impressed me most was Galarraga's immediate response to the call.  If you watch the video, you notice that for one split second when he knew he had made the out, he started to celebrate-- but when the call was made, he just smiled, stared at Jim Joyce, and then walked back to the mound.  HE SMILED!   And then he recorded the next out!  There was a lot of hype after the game, and all the analylists practically started singing kumbaya because Joyce apologized and Galarraga said "nobody's perfect" (even though he had been)... but what I'll remember is that smile.  My brother Nate was impressed by this moment, too, and wrote on my facebook wall, "Someday I'll tell kids about the grace with which Armando Galarraga handled himself in that situation."

Maybe that smile grows out of ten years spent in the minors before being called up to the majors.  Maybe it comes from the maturity of being able to recognize the strength of one's accomplishment even without official recognition of that accomplishment.  In the Women's final at the French Open, we also saw an experienced player earn the chance to make good on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  Before the French Open, Francesca Schiavone had never advanced beyond the quarterfinals in a Grand Slam tournament.  She'd only won three tournaments in her whole 12 year career.  She was the heavy, heavy underdog.

I'll admit that when I started watching the match, I wanted Sam Stosur to win.  I'd been impressed by her giant-killing journey to the final: she'd already upset Serena Williams and Justine Henin, the two favorites to win the tournament, and had destroyed former world #1 Jelena Jankovic in the semis.  I was already imagining how exciting it would be to experience in person the Aussie hype that would have been around Stosur at the Australian Open in January had she won her first slam on Saturday.  But even though no one gave Schiavone a chance, she came out with a game plan that handcuffed Stosur, and it became impossible to cheer against her.  With the chance to win the match in the second set tiebreaker, when most players participating in their first slam final against a heavy favorite would have tightened up and choked, Schiavone took risky shots, executed them perfectly, and began jumping for joy after each winner.  Aside from Serena and maybe Kim Clijsters, the women in today's game seem afraid to rise to the challenge in this way.  I generally find the WTA tour uninspiring precisely because it so sorely lacks these kind of grab-the-bull-by-the-horns moments.

But Schiavone is evidently not our average WTA player.  Afterward, Schiavone said "I took it, and I didn't lose the chance. I didn't care about nothing. I want to take that [ball] and play my tennis. It was the moment."  Peter Bodo also reports that when she was asked how she accomplished something so much greater than anyone had ever expected of her, she responded, "Every morning that you wake up, you work to do something like this. So maybe it was far away in reality, but here [she pointed to her heart] it was never that far."

Thanks, Armando Galarraga and Francesca Schiavone, for reminding me this week how much the human mind is capable of achieving.  For reminding me that the moments when we are placed under the most pressure are also the moments when are given the opportunity to surpass everyone's expectations.  For demonstrating, as Schiavone said, that "This is mean that everybody have the chance to be who really you want to be, and to do everything in your life. This is what's happen to me."

Magnificent Desolation

You might remember that last year, I blogged a photo of the final repairs being made to the Hubble Space telescope.  About a month ago, we went to see the Hubble 3D film about that repair mission.  I meant to write a blog post about how fantastic the film was, how much it helped put the size of our universe in perspective, and how heavily it features the work done by Billy's coworkers at the Space Telescope Science Institute... but then I got super busy with my end-of-semester projects, and I forgot.  But I cannot encourage you strongly enough to check out this film if it's still available in your neck of the woods.  If you go to the film's website you can locate a theater near you.

Seriously.  Take yourself.  Take the young people you know, especially, because we need kids to stay interested in science.  Billy and his coworkers grew up in an era during which every trip into space was a leading national news story... and look at what they're up to these days!  For this year's World Science Festival in NYC, they built a full-size model of Billy's telescope, the James Webb Space Telescope.

This video shows a time lapse of the construction.  The full thing is visible starting around 2:55.



(Magnificent Desolation: The Long Journey Back From the Moon is Buzz Aldrin's most recent memoir. I'd love to read it, actually, because every time I see astronauts in space I wonder what it is like to come back.  The summary of the book suggests that my suspicion might be right: it is not so easy to return.  When JWST goes up, it is going to show us more of the magnificent desolation of outer space than we can even imagine.  It will be able to see back in time almost all the way to the Big Bang!)

Holiday

Since my family (excepting Vickie) left last week, I have been trying to give my brain a break while acclimating to my summer vacation.  This past week, I have:

• driven Vickie around to get her fingerprints taken and paperwork filed for her nursing license.
• gone into Baltimore to see Mr. Greengenes with Billy, Vickie, Danielle, and Erin (sadly I did not get to eat my favorite enchiladas: they were out of the sauce).
• eaten at The Cheesecake Factory with Vickie, Erin, and Danielle before going to see Sex and the City 2.
• consumed 2 Strong Bow Ciders at the Sly Fox with Billy, Brian, Vickie, Erin, Danielle, and a few of her friends.
• taken several naps.
• attempted a 5 mile run, during which I realized I am not yet in good humid-weather shape.
• woke up early in an attempt to watch Andy Roddick, who was playing so badly that his match didn't even get televised.
• repeated my Sunday morning Panera ritual with Danielle and Erin and, this time, Vickie.
• read Jhumpa Lahiri in the sun.
• read Jhumpa Lahiri in the shade.
• ate a snowball (everywhere else, this is called a snow cone).
• failed to find a single summer dress to purchase despite visiting every single store in which I normally like to shop.
• attended a cookout with Billy's family to celebrate Memorial Day and Uncle James' birthday. 
• posted a few blog entries over at Scholar Style Guide.
• watched Step Up 2 the Streets and resolved to found an underground dance crew.
• performed an imaginary jump for joy upon realizing that Soderling defeated Federer in the quarters at the French (though I was bummed that I was at work during the match).

This has been an uncharacteristically busy off-week for me, but it has helped me put enough space between myself and the end of last semester that I am finally starting to feel a little relaxed.  Feels good.

("Holiday" is a heartbreaking and beautiful short story included in Katherine Anne Porter's Collected Stories.  I shed a few tears for Ottilie every time.  The story has a great story, too.  Porter first wrote three different versions in the 1920s, but set them aside because none of them seemed right.  Decades later, she rediscovered the drafts and realized that the first version was the correct one.  Of this experience, she writes, "as for the vexing question which had stopped me short long ago, it had in the course of living settled itself so slowly and deeply and secretly I wondered why I had ever been distressed by it."  I love this idea, that life experience helps us answer the unanswered questions.)