The Olympic Village housing

Things aren't quite finished in the Olympic Village ... i.e. the landscaping.

Outside the Dining Hall.

This is just one-quarter of the dining hall.

The in-seat video system on the plane skipped on several of the channels, which left me either watching "Miracle", "Scooby Doo 2" or listening to the audio. I chose Miracle - 3 times. When you take off at 2:30 for Germany, and it's a 7-hour flight, you're wide awake when you land ... at 5:30 in the morning. There, I switched to Lufthansa, where I was quickly informed that I was supposed to have been given a paper ticket for that segment of my flight. So I spent the next two hours negotiating for a paper ticket which I didn't have, and they obliged eventually, just in time for me to make the connection to Athens. By the way, if Lufthansa checks my references (I had to give two names who could verify my travel), I'm a decathlete. I figured I was too small for Greco-Roman wrestling, and too pale for marathon. I also don't figure they can look it up against the Games web site either since no one from Lufthansa ever checked my I.D. No one, not security, not the gate agent, not the issuing agent. No one. Makes U.S. folks feel better about the high school dropouts working TSA at our airports. Now that I've said this, I can probably look forward to a full body cavity search when I go back through Frankfurt in a few weeks. Javol meinen herren! Oh, and don't eat the food on Lufthansa. Apparently they didn't get the memo that airlines were upgrading food selections. My "Omlette mit Kase" did not pass go nor collect zwei-hunnert marks en route to the ausgang.

 

So ... Athens. Well ... think ... Arizona foothills meets Bosnia. Scrub brush, no grass, reddish brown dirt, small mountains. Arizona. That's what I thought of. And square concrete apartment buildings, half the buildings are abandoned, the other half are graffiti covered, stray dogs everywhere. Hence, Arizona meets Bosnia.

 

I found out a few days ago that my lodging wouldn't be ready, so ... ta-da - I was moved into the Athlete's Village. We hopped a bus with the Russian shooting team who proceeded to do shots of vodka out of medicine cups all the way to the village. Got my credential and headed off to my room. When I get my camera connected, I'll insert a few photos. Again, think gray (some are pale khaki, others white) concrete apartments, marble floors (everything is marble) and no landscaping - they're still laying the grass in the common areas. The dining hall is always a treat - not just because it's free, but becuase it's so darned big. They serve roughly 38,000 meals a day there. That's like ... well, using me as a barometer, 450 years worth of meals at Captain D's. It's about 3 football fields in size indoors, and there's every kind of food. I'm trying to stick to the South Beach diet, but with menus in Greek, sometimes I'm just guessing. I think I had beef curry tonight. Either that, or it was "saucy stray dog surprise". Not sure. But it was good. Ruf, ruf.

 

I went back out for team processing - got all my outfitting and such, then back to go to bed. By 10, I was dead. One thing about processing - that's where they outfit you with all the Team USA stuff. This year's stuff from adidas is pretty cool. The Roots stuff? Well, lets just say that if ghetto-preppy is your style, you can work for Roots. You'll see the Roots stuff during the Opening and Closing Ceremonies. Thank god no one has to wear it any other time.

 

Training is underway. I walked around a bit today, went to training, went to the Today Show set, saw the stadium, where under total secrecy they were practicing how they're going to light the torch. Well, sort of total secrecy. One of the tricks of the Games is to spend the first few days figuring out what transportation to take, when it goes, and where your credential gets you. And depending on who you talk to, it changes every two seconds. I was being told about how I had to walk out to the road and up a 1/4 mile for my shuttle by two volunteers and two security guards ... as the shuttle was pulling up behind them. And I was told I couldn't go into the stadium by two security guards, but the two at the next section down ushered us right in. So ... you do what you can during the first few days until everyone figures out the rules.

 

Greek Mythology 101 and Greek Word of the Day will be my two other categories. If I get fancy, I'll figure out how to put them in the column at right. Those features start tomorrow. It's 11:30 here and I need to sleep.

Days 3-4 (posted Aug. 8)
I managed to get a little more sleep than the second night, where the time change practically limits your body to just four hours. With that note, I moved to my new housing in a hospital wing yet to be opened. It's about a two-minute walk to work, so that's good. I'd take a picture of it for you, but I'd have to stand outside to get the required 4 feet of focus distance for the camera. The minus - the rooms are like a hospital - think white walls, white tile, white shower curtain, white everything. The plus - the nurse call buttons work. OK, no they don't, but if they did, then we'd be talking some fun.

I needed some serious decorations, so at about 8 p.m. on Saturday I headed to the CarreFour (pronounced Care-Four), which is like a Greek Wal-Mart minus the 85-year-old greeter. But it was closed. Then I decided I'd hunt for some food. Sbarro - closed. ... Um ... yeah - nothing else in the vicinity. Nothing. We're in late-night-hunger-craze-hell. I would have settled for White Castle at that point - OK, no I wouldn't - but anything would have been nice. Apparently Greece closes at 8 p.m. - I'm sure if I could have read the billboard over CarreFour, that's what it would have said, "Sorry, Greece is closed." Greece is closed on Sunday, too, so no decorations today, either.

Guard swings on pommel horse

There really is training going on, I promise. Here's a photo of OU's Guard Young to prove it. Both teams look really good at this point. I also had the opportunity to drop in on synchro's training today for a few minutes. Everyone's in high spirits across the board.

I also visited the gymnastics venue today. Trust me when I say the Olympic Park is very much still under construction. The gymnastics venue looks great in the seating bowl. Outside of that, everything has that newly painted, dusty smell. I'm getting used to it. But with all the dirt and dust flying around in the 89-degree sweaty heat, by the end of the day we all look like we've just gone for a mud bath.

By now you know every U.S. team at the Games has been assigned an additional "coach", easily identifiable by the fact they wear no U.S. outfitting, never actually talk to the athletes, and always carry a mysterious blue bag with them. Those would be our security guards. For the most part, cool folks. They are there to ensure the U.S. athletes are protected, and honestly, they're more than welcomed. Not that I don't have faith in the Greek security folks, but ... let's just say there seems to be a lot more smoking and flirting going on than actual observation. Our guards are also there to ensure the athletes have their police escort vehicles when they go out of the Village. I don't know about you, but I don't envision many shady characters are intimidated by the whizzing high-pitched squeal of the Ford Focus' driven by the Greek security. Hence, we're glad to have our own security guys.

Speaking of driving, if you're coming to Greece and planning to rent a car, ask the rental agent to read you your last rights right there. It'll save time. Imagine a pinball table with 40 balls on it. That's a Greek intersection. And the police don't help. No one has insurance. You settle on the spot, in cash before the police get there, or you go to jail until you sort it out. That's the deal. It took two days before one of my co-horts got hit broadside by a motorcyclist. The embassy had to get involved in order to keep him out of jail.

Greek Mythology 101 - Questions like "When does the bus come?", or "When will the food court be open?", etc., are answered with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile. That means, "On Greek time", aka whenever they darn well feel like it. It's no wonder nothing is ready for the Games.

Greek Word of the Day - Still haven't learned a Greek word other than Rizza, which is rice. That one's easy. I can say a few - Parakalo = please, Efkareesto = thank you, etc. - but damn if I can spell 'em.

The Olympic Indoor Hall, site of gymnastics and basketball finals.

A big walkway thingy in the Olympic Park. Stuff like this is completed, while more important things sit half-done.

Day 5 (posted Aug. 9)

I should just go ahead and apologize now for being crabby. The A/C doesn't work in our hospital room, so we're kind of used to sleeping stuck to the sheets. You roll over and the bottom and top sheet go with you. It's like a starch cocoon. Our only reprieve is coming to work, where for four days the A/C kept our work area like a meat locker. Last night, that, too, crapped out. Now we sit and sweat at work, too. Good thing the laundry facility is free. I'll need it by Wednesday.

Also late last night, the big boss - the guy who makes all of us come to Athens, the guy we work for here, the guy who sets the rules and policies, the guy who gives us lectures about being diplomatic, working hard, obeying the rules, etc. - got his car towed. That's just funny to us on so many levels.

The photo at right is the International Broadcast Center, home of the broadcast media in Athens. It's six stories, and includes TV studios, production facilities, offices, etc. Our building is the MPC (Main Press Center) to the right, and our housing is just behind it. I guess I owe you photos of our housing by now, eh? It's coming, I promise.

OK, back to work. My sweaty fingers are slipping off the keyboard. I'll post more later, with some new photos.

Days 5-6 (posted Aug. 10)

The one thing I learned quickly about the Olympics, long before gymnastics, but ever more evident - set the rules and policies early, and communicate them throughout the year. I see press officers scrambling around setting up interviews, creating media guides, taking calls, creating materials, etc. - it's not worth the headache. We communicated to all our media for the past 8 months what the deal was going to be, so now I'm here and the phone is miraculously silent, my materials have been in the media's hands for months, and everyone knows the policies and interview opportunities for the past month. It's like the twilight zone - eerily silent. Maybe it's the calm before the storm.

By comparison, working at synchro was a learning process during which I learned how to deal with the media at these types of events. I learned not to sweat it out, and don't try to do everything. If you miss one opportunity at the Olympics, another is right around the corner. You have to pick and choose the ones that you'll get the most bang out of. No need to convince the coaches and athletes to go out of their way to do one interview, then later have it backfire when the reporter turns out to be a jerk or the piece never airs. There's other things to worry about, and other ways to bide your time.

The pool, bar and restaurant at adidas house.

The view from adidas house.

Displays such as these ring the adidas house inside and out.

The Chinese team manager hiding behind a monitor, secretly taping U.S. team training from the media seating area.

Personally, I've spent hours on setting up the USA Gymnastics Olympic site until all our office folks get back from the vacations they decided to take as soon as the cats were away. No problem - when the Games hit, they'll be working their fair share as well ... I hope.

So ... the A/C came back on the main press center last night ... and is back off this afternoon. Great. As you can see from the photos above, the MPC and IBC are huge, gray, mostly metal buildings. Imagine a big oven with 8,000 fat, stinky journalists roasting inside.

Meanwhile, on the home front - for those of you reading in the States, apparently since I left, the garage door broke, Lori's car won't start, the power went out for a while yesterday ... you know, all the stuff that doesn't happen when I'm home.

Oh - another thing I'm learning about at the Games. The Games are a business, and as such, has lots of sponsors with lots of money who want to spend lots more money during these two weeks to get their business partners with lots of money time to rub shoulders with athletes. No slam on synchro, but honestly, while working with the synchro team, I maybe got one call for the girls to do a sponsor function during the Games, mainly because synchro's sponsors are not the same as those who sponsor the Games. With gymnastics, and our sponsors being the same as those who sponsor the Games, we're getting all kinds of calls and hush-hush invites to sponsor parties. I feel bad saying this, but it's like that nerd-jock separation in high school. There's sports that get invites, and sports that don't. It's a shame that the sponsors pursue the big-name athletes first, then there's a trickle down effect. It goes for the sports' executives, too. For example, the three biggest nights of the Games are not related to the Opening and Closing Ceremonies, they're the Sports Illustrated parties. SI parties are the thing of Olympic legend, kind of like a VIP room at a nudie bar. You know there's something going on up there, but no one talks about it. SI parties start at 10 p.m. and run until 4 a.m., and are visited by all the Olympic athlete and Hollywood celebs. Similarly, USA Today, NBC, Visa, adidas, etc. all have hospitality houses where everything's free, the pool's always open, the cocktail waitresses make a Vegas cocktailer blush, etc. It just happens that way. I've been given permission by you know who to attend one SI party on my best behavior, and I promise to post a few photos afterward.

In the mean time, the photos your're seeing are from the adidas house in Athens, high on a hill overlooking the city. It's actually a Tennis Club that has become so known for hosting weddings and parties that they haven't used the tennis courts in about 4 years, according to an adidas rep. It looks like a prime site for a party ...

Day ... what day is it again?

The days are getting longer, and starting to blend together. Today was men's podium training, which is kind of like team practice with music in synchro. Everyone goes about their business, and those who are most worried spend their time taping everyone else (as you can see at right).

Following podium training is the pre-Olympics press conference. Press conferences happen in about a 200-800 seat auditorium, complete with a head table dais thing, a speaker's podium, simultaneous translation, and runners in the audience with hand-held microphones so everyone can hear those asking questions. For a PR person, the best part of a press conference is standing up at the podium and directing the microphone holders - essentially the power to determine who gets to ask question and ignoring those you don't want questions from (... Margaret ... Donn Squire ...).

Even more fun than that is to cater to all your big-wig media, then randomly take a question from a member of the foreign press. After about the eighth question regarding the Chinese men vs. our men (No. 1 vs. No. 2 currently), I finally allowed one of the impatient Chinese media to ask a question. In his broken English he asks, "Can the U.S. men figure out a way to beat the Chinese?" Our reigning world champ, Paul Hamm, takes the microphone and says, "Well, I figured out how to do it last year at the world championships."

After much ado about the press conference, I finished up at the office and at 10 p.m., finally got something to eat. Jeff, Kevin and I wandered down the street to some cafe looking thing a few blocks down. It turned out to be a cafe with a huge nightclub in the back part of the building. However, the nightclub was totally empty. We talked to the owner a bit and learned that nightclubs in Athens don't normally open until midnight, and close between 4-6 a.m. Good to know. The owner was very nice. His English was about as good as my Greek, and he called over one of the club cocktailers to describe the food menu for us. We ordered a beer, which translates into any language. At that point, we didn't care about the menu and ordered whatever it was she was trying to describe. The owner brought us a ham & cheese with chips - "A starter, for you - you look hungry. Eat." OK. I ended up ordering some kind of hot wrap sandwich thing with sliced pork, peppers, onions, tomato, feta, mayo, (I did manage to stop him before adding mushrooms ...) ... and egg. Hard boiled egg. I didn't see him slip that onto the sandwich. Remarkably, though, it tasted exactly like a club sandwich. Not sure how, since none of the ingredients other than mayo are on a club. We had another beer, and kept talking to the owner about Athens, the island he was from, the club, etc. He came and checked on us about every five minutes, and on one of the trips as we were about to leave, he brings out a tray of beer - compliments of the owner. OK - so we sat outside at the cafe a little longer, chatting him up. After a few minutes, a tray of shots - compliments of the owner. Um, ... not sure what the owner is trying here - I mean, I'm not that kind of guy ... But ... we take those, and sit a while longer. Eventually, it got to be midnight and we headed back, but not before the owner invited us to be his guests on Saturday night. I honestly don't see that happening - going OUT at midnight the night before competition. But .. maybe we'll eat there again - our total tab for the ham & cheese sandwich tray, my wrap, three rounds of three beers each, and a round of shots - 19 Euro. Not bad - three beers at any other restaurant in town is 18 Euro alone.

Marios ... watering a fence. Hell, I don't know what the heck they're doing.

A few other notes for today - all the construction workers in Greece wear white Ts with blue overalls, and with their dark hair and mustaches - they all look like the Mario brothers.

Security around here changes every day. One day, you can walk somewhere or park somewhere, the next, you can't park there but can now drive down a different street, etc. Yesterday I about got in a fist fight with the security in front of our press center. The guy at one end of the drive directed us to pull up in a certain lane in front of the building, but the guy at the end of the lane didn't think we should be there, etc. Whatever. I don't care what the policy is going to be, you people agree on something, and just let us know.

Oh yeah - I drove yesterday. The general rule about Greece is you're safer being dragged naked behind a horse to your destination than attempting to drive there. Not only did I drive, but I was recruited to drive athletes from their training to a press conference. First, the women wrestlers, then the swimmers. Let me tell you this honestly - for all those who have questioned me, harassed me, made snyde remarks, joked about "better buckle up - Brian's driving", ha, ha - to them, I say proudly, "screw you" - it's a damn good thing I drive like an a**hole in the states, 'cause there's no other way here. No turn signals. No paying attention to one-ways. No slowing to a stop when the light's yellow. No giving a crap if there's a guy in the lane next to you - if you need to be over there, you go. You missed your turn, you just slam on the brakes and back up. You don't like how fast the guy in front of you is going, you pass them, on the right, on the left, roll up next to them in the opposite lane at a light and gun past them just before the light changes - whatever the hell you want. That's Greek driving. The only rule, and I stress ONLY rule, they pay attention to, of all things - no turn on red. Yep - can't turn on red. That will get you beat down.

The women's team press conference is today (the 12th). We're also doing the Today Show today at 7:15 a.m. - but that's kind of useless to you now since you're probably not reading this at 2:30 a.m. your time while I'm typing. We're going to do Today again tomorrow at 3:30 our time, which is 7:30 your time. And for those following us a little closer, ... Pamela will be on the Tonight Show on Friday talking about the gymnast she's sponsoring.

If you haven't seen it yet, the other site I'm doing from here is www.usa-gymnasticsolympics.com. It's taking up a lot of time, honestly. That's it for today.

Day 9, I think.

Did I mention it's hot in Greece? I feel like Robin Williams in Good Morning Vietnam - "It's hot. Damn hot. Real hot. Hotter than things in my shorts. A little crotch-pot cookin'. It's so hot, I saw one of those little guys in an orange robe burst into flames. It's that hot. You know what I'm talkin' about."

Mary, in the Opening Ceremonies parade outfit, checking out the official Olympic medals.

The Olympic Indoor Hall, site of gymnastics and basketball finals.

The media seating area of the OIH - this is only about 2/3 of it.

This is some walkway thing in the Olympic Park. Stuff like this is done, while more important things are only half-way there.

Last night was the Opening Ceremonies. I'm sure many of you watched it. The USA is getting slammed a little for their parade uniforms. Personally, I didn't think they were too bad this time. Sure beats the ol' blue blazer with the huge golden embroidered crest on the pocket, white shirts, khakis and huge hats as in years past. Mary (our rhythmic gymnast) was selected to be on the Today Show modeling the uni prior to the ceremonies. She had blisters from the shoes after walking in them for only 150 yards. Not sure how that played out for her walking in the ceremony.

I personally didn't watch a whole bunch of it. Though the tennis team had about 40 extra $750 Euro tickets they were hawking for $100 Euro, I didn't really feel like going. I did on one hand want to say that I'd seen an Opening Ceremonies; on the other hand, for security and logistical reasons - they asked everyone to be in the stadium by 7 for a 9:30 start. And it wasn't supposed to be over until 1 a.m. To me, that's a lot of sitting around to watch a lot of countries you've never heard of dance and jump around on the big screen.

So we (Eric from water polo, my roomie; Nancy & Eddie from the AP) ventured downtown on a media bus to get a bite to eat and see a few sites of Athens along the way. Since I've been here, it's the first time I've ventured away from the Village, the Olympic Park, or the American College of Greece (where some of the teams are training). It was nice to get out. With all the main roads closed for the ceremonies, only Olympic transportation could drive on the highways, so we blazed downtown in about 10 minutes. Saw the acropolis and parthenon, the parliament, Syntagma square, drove through the Plaka shopping district, etc. We hopped out at Syntagma and went to a restaurant around there.

Quick interruption - another thing I've learned, and if you've read the Sydney journal as well, you know that no one, repeat NO ONE can get transportation right. And justifiably so - I mean, you're moving 20-30K people a day. At the same time, though, it's the ittle things that annoy the hell out of everyone. For example, my Sydney favorite exists here as well - "the loop bus" - supposedly takes you from the main press center in a loop around the Olympic Park, stopping at each venue. It's continual, it runs every five minutes throughout the day, every 30 from 1 a.m. to 6 a.m. So I'm on it the other day, and the driver blows past my stop - and there's people there at the stop, standing, waiting, etc. I was like, "Where are you going? That's the bus stop!" He says in broken English, "We do not stop. You must tell me you want to stop, then I stop." I asked him, "So if everyone got on this loop bus, and no one said stop, you'd just drive around the damn circle all day never stopping." He had this perplexed look, then said, "I do not stop at the bus stop. You must tell me when you want to stop." I'm sorry, I thought the simple concept of a full busload of people, and people waiting at the "bus stop" sign, would be a sure indicator that the bus whose job it is to deliver people from one "stop" to the next, would kind of know when and where to stop. Whatever. Same thing happened last night after dinner. It's 10-til midnight, we're at the bus stop in Syntagma, and at about midnight, the bus comes whizzing by and blows past the four of us, at the stop. About two blocks down, it screeches to a halt. We sprint for the bus as about 10 angry Australians get out - they're having words with the driver, "You're supposed to stop. This bus goes from one place to the other, and back, and you weren't even going to stop at the destination!" Seriously. It goes from point A to point B, and back to point A, and because no one on the bus said to stop there, he just blew by it.

See, here's the theory about Greek transportation - you know where you want to go, so you tell the driver, and that's where you go, and if no one else speaks up, they all go there too, regardless of the sign in the window, or the schedule. Now, imagine that system in the U.S. It's the middle of winter. You board a plane to LaGuardia to ... say ... Boise. As you're loading in, past the cockpit, joking with the pilot, you say, "Man, I sure wish I was going to Miami instead of Boise." Three hours later, there's palm trees, sun, surf, bikinis, fat hairy Greek vacationers in Speedos ... not a flake of snow in sight. That's the Athens bus system in a nut shell.

By now you've realized that I've given up on the whole Greek myth thing and learning Greek words. The language is too damn hard. The one word I have learned that's come in handy is, "Mantos". Mantos is the college-age waiter at the local watering hole, which I mentioned the other day. Eric heard his name and busted out, "Fresh and full of life!", like the candy Mentos. Whatever - it was funny then. After dinner last night, on the bus on the way back, Eric and I decided we needed to visit Mantos. And again, we bought two rounds, the owner charged us for only one, and brought us three different shots and a round for free, plus sandwiches and chips again, compliments of the owner, who all he wants is a USA shirt before we leave. So we promised we'd bring him a shirt before we depart on the 31st. And it was no problem getting to the Alpha bar - on the way back from Syntagma, as the bus driver blew past the main press center (and Eddie remarked, "Where the hell are we going? Bosnia?"), I told the driver to stop at Alpha Club. He immediately crossed three lanes of post-ceremonies traffic, no signaling, horns honking as he cut everyone off, pulled right up in front, in the middle of traffic, slammed on the brakes and dropped us right on the front door step, then pealed out and kept right on truckin'. I'm not sure if Eddie and Nancy ever got home since by then we were a good five blocks past where the bus was supposed to terminate. They could BE in Bosnia today.

Day 10 - Aug. 15

So, keeping line with past journals, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the toities here. Apparently, the plumbing pipes are old throughout most of Greece and thus narrower than the rest of the world. The result is that you're not supposed to flush paper, you're supposed to deposit it in a little metal trash can next to the potty. I don't know about you, but there's something about dropping used TP in a trash can that doesn't work for me. I'm doing things the American way, and if it stops up every potty in Greece, then that's just tough luck. So far, no problems though.

And it shouldn't be a problem. The amount of hours we're working, most of us only eat twice a day - at 8 when we leave our building, there's continental breakfast. I'm knocking out a yogurt every morning, sometimes sweetbread or Coco Pops (Coco Krispies). Greek yogurt is the best. Thick, creamy consistency. Options are peach, strawberry, or honey - it's one of those fancy split container thingies with honey on one side and plain yogurt on the other. It's pretty good, actually. Then dinner - totally not on the South Beach Diet - I don't eat dinner until about 10 or 11 because we have events, media appointments, media folks to go see, etc. throughout the day, then have to post everything to the web site (timeliness is everything). So at 10 or 11, we're on the hunt for food. Hence the reason we've been to Mantos' joint a few nights. Last night, I got no less than a dozen calls between 9 and 2 (I stopped answering at 11) asking me to go out. Screw that. I hit McD's at midnight and headed back to the room to enjoy my Big Mac and apple pie while watching that stupid karate cop show "Martial Law" (which has been off the air for four years in the States) with Sammo Hung and Arsenio Hall, complete with Greek subtitles. What a treat. I mean, I understand not being able to afford U.S. syndication rights, but syndication rights for Cosby, M*A*S*H, or even Any Griffith can't be that much for Greece. It's just not late-night TV without Cosby at 3 a.m.

I forgot to mention yesterday, synchro swimmer Lauren McFall has a web log going about the Games. You can visit her here.

We enjoyed our first day of competition yesterday. You would have watched it on about a 6-hour delay basis. If you really want, I can explain all the "controversy", but in reality - it'll bore you. Basically, routines are evaluated during Podium Training (Weds.) and if you say you're doing a routine that's "A" hard, and it's really "B" hard, they tell you, and you don't get credit for an "A" class routine. Well, our guys have beeing doing the same routines for three years, and they've been "A" quality routines for every one of those world-class events. We get here, and on Thurs., the judges who reviewed our training said, "You know what, we made a mistake the past three years with your routines. We're only going to give you "B" level credit," forcing three of our guys to frantically change their routines the day before competition. So ... it may seem like B.S. in one sense. In another, it happens all the time, to every country - it's just that the guys get frustrated because they do the same routines for years, around the world, to eliminate any questions, then to get here and have a Romanian head official (they're in 3rd) and a Japanese chief judge (they're normally 3rd, but 1st right now) tell your guys they're screwed, it tends to get the guys a little upset. Anyway, they'll be better on Monday. We should medal in team. Paul looked great in all-around and qualified 1st for that final, and for four event finals. So he's well on his way.

So far, there's been no expressed anti-American sentiment, and no security questions asked of the athletes. I think having the first few athletes here field those questions and respond, "There's nothing more than can be said or written about the topic," kind of paved the way for the rest of us.

Last night was the first of four SI parties. My bosses went, as did a few other folks. I wasn't about to go. My first rule of going out is that "out" means "without the boss". You go out to escape those whom you have to be around the rest of the day - nothing against them, that's just the purpose. If I wanted to schmooze, I'd go to lunch with them; but if I'm going out, that means, "bye, see you tomorrow." Apparently, the party couldn't have been that exciting because everyone who went is already in the office and on email this morning. Granted, they look like shit and probably didn't get more than 5 hours sleep, but ... they're here. So if it was a really wild time, I'm sure they'd be a little later than 9-9:30 a.m. That's my theory. However, I think I'm the crabby one today. Not crabby, I feel fine and am pleasant as always, but I've lost patience, rather, with those who tend to walk around our offices here, leaving their cell phones at their desks, set at full volume, and totally reveling the fact that 1) they aren't intending to answer the ring, and 2) probably because they can't distinguish it from everyone else's phone - it's the same damn "Bad News Bears" ring as everyone else. It's really starting to annoy me. A well-equipped press officer like myself is on call 24/7, thus I have two phones. My phones - one U.S. international and one Greek phone - are set to vibrate, then ring, so that 1) when either starts moving along the table, I know it's ringing and I don't disturb anyone else, and 2) 'cause a vibrating phone in my pocket is the most action I'm getting this month. Now, if I could just coordinate two people to call me at the same time on each phone, I'd need a brandy and a cigarette.

Day 11 - Aug. 16 (day 3 of the Games, if you're counting)

Well, everything seems to be going well so far. The gymnasts qualified for 18 possible medal opportunities. In all reality, they'll probably come home with four guaranteed in team and all-around, and maybe 3-4 more in individual events.

We're booking media left and right. Gymnastics is on the Today Show every day this week. Bela's in town finally, so he's taking care of some of it, but if our kids start medaling, we'll be on in the first half-hour of the Today Show on Tues.-Fri.

It got really windy yesterday afternoon late - the wind often kicks up around midnight-4 a.m, but today it was around 7. The Olympic Park and it's Greek-cheap landscaping looked like a huge dust storm. The landscaping is supposed to resemble the original Olympic Games period - au natural, I guess. There's a few sparse, dying trees being planted (yes, planted) in the park every day. Nothing is paved. So after you've walked 20 feet and started sweating profusely, during the remainder of your half-mile walk, you basically get a nice coating of fine brown dirt all over.

However, the landscaping is not what bothers me. It's so bright all the time in Greece that nearly every window has window blinds to decrease the glare and protect from the sun. At the hospital, as on many European buildings, the blinds are motorized and on the outside of the windows. You have two buttons inside the room to control the lowering and tilting of the blinds. The Greek's are eons ahead of their time in outdoor window blind technology. When the wind blows at a certain speed, a little windsock thingy on the roof of the building trains the blinds to automatically open and recoil so that they aren't damaged by the wind. Great for the blinds. But it's like a midnight wake up call for anyone unfortunate enough to be staying within sight of the permanently lit Olympic Park. Eric and I wake up at about 5 a.m. some mornings because it's so darn bright in there that you can't possibly sleep any longer. They might as well sound a siren, turn on a center stage spotlight and throw a gaggle of roosters in the room to cock-a-doodle-doo that the wind is blowing outside.

Last night, I finally got to eat away from the press center for a change. Ate at some cafe in the Plaka shopping district with Rachel from the gymnastics office and Stacey, our sponsor rep. with adidas. Plaka is like the back alleys of any big city - vendors selling replicas of everything from Gucci bags to Greek artifacts. It's nothing special ... unless you have a Greek friend to go with. Greeks get a little better deal in the Plaka, they get shown the better quality stuff, better quality jewelry, get a little better price, etc. It's illegal to take anything out of Greece that's more than 100 years old. But if you go with a Greek to the Plaka, and he introduces you as a friend, ... the jewelers will show you pendants with ancient coins, jewelry with chips of pottery and beads, dishes, cloths, all kinds of stuff. Fascinating little area, the Plaka.

After a walk through there, we ran into the families of a few of the athletes, and guided them to a rooftop bar looking up at the Acropolis. It was a pretty amazing place, and that's when you realize that you're not sitting at Ike & Jonesy's (for my Little Rock friends, that's like any bar out in Levy; for OU friends, it equates to Liberty's on Campus Corner) or the Noodle. You're sitting in Athens, and a stone's throw away is the Acropolis and Parthenon - thousands of years of history - and sights like this are just everyday sights for people here. It's like siupping espresso in a sidewalk cafe in Paris in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, or tipping back a bottle of Reschers in a tiny pub just steps from the Sydney Harbor Bridge, or slamming down a double-bacon cheeseburger in Ma's Greasy Eats overlooking the world's largest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas. It's so moving. (OK - I don't know if there's really a Ma's Greasy Eats in Cawker City, but if there is ... you can thank me for the free pub, Ma.)

I've been short on photos the past few days. I need to get out into the Olympic Park and around town a little more. By the way, we can see the Olympic flame out our window.

Day 13 - Aug. 18

Well, as you probably saw by now, both the men's and women's team won silver medals. Both had a few mistakes, but so did everyone else, so I guess all's well in the world of gymnastics right now. I've been getting to bed around 3:30 each night during finals. It's absolute media pandemonium after a medal is won. Some genious thought it'd be fun to schedule gymnastics events from 9-11:30 every night. So by the time the medals ceremony is over, it's 11:55. The kids do rights-holding TV interviews for those who paid big bucks to get first crack at interviews - this includes everyone from NBC Sports to BBC (Great Britain) to CBC (Canada) and TV Azteca, Televisa, Eurosport, RTV (Eastern Europe), and a bunch more that I don't even know where they're from. Then they do some rights-holding radio, which is pretty painless. Then it's on to the mixed zone where no less than 75 writers are waiting to talk to the kids. I described the mixed zone in Sydney as a rugby scrum - this one is a little better because there's more space along the rail in which to spread out the athletes.

After mixed zone at the venue, the team captain and head coach are required by the International Olympic Committee to do a press conference. It's the absolute most boring thing in the world. When you put three different kids up there who speak three different languages, then fill the room with 100 stinky journalists who speak about 20 different languages, the amount of time to get one question asked and one answer is about 3 minutes. The IOC, being the bureaucrats they are, love the sight of three medalists sitting at a head table together. It looks so formal and dignified. It's totally useless to media, though. It's a waste of time. If you figure there's only about a third of media wanting to talk to each of three kids, and they don't care what the others have to say, you've basically tripled the time it takes to get as many questions answered.

After that, it's fairly late, so the kids go home to bed. They get up the next day around 10, eat, and head into the Olympic Park where they record interviews with local NBC affiliates, Access Hollywood, and print media for about 30 minutes before going live on the Today Show. Then it's off to the Main Press Center for another half hour or more of non-rights holding media - the ESPNs, CNNs, CBS, etc. - everyone l who's not NBC. After that, we also book radio spots for the post-Olympic Tour markets' radio stations, some additional print media at the Main Press Center, another media opportunity for the team together with the sponsors out at their hospitality location, and then maybe some more radio with a series of stations lined up by Coca-Cola. After all that, there's "team celebrations", where all the medalists from that day or the day before get together at the USA House and meet with all the USOC's sponsors, do more media, and finally ... they get to see their family - well, two members of their family. Until that point, everything they do is in secured areas, so the athletes who come to Athens don't get to interact with their families until nearly 40 hours after they win a medal due to all the obligations pre-determined for them.

They say the window of opportunity for fame and publicity after winning a gold medal is approximately 7-10 days. Roughly 7-10 days after a kid wins a medal, America has forgotten about that person. Thus, that's why we basically have to wear them out during the crucial 24-48-hour period after winning a medal in order to help Americans remember who the kids are. It's tough on them, tough on us, and very tiring. I'll try to snap some pics of the mixed zone tonight. It's a sight when it's full of TV crews, print folks, athletes, etc.

My other bit for today, it's funny what one misses when one travels. Some people miss their bed, or their Lay-Z-Boy, or their spouse or pet. Others miss things like their favorite pub, sights and sounds, or comfort foods. Every time I travel, I learn a little more about what's important to me. Now, we all know that of course the one thing I miss the most is my loving wife, Lori, who takes care of me, loves me, cooks for me, etc. (I know what you're thinking ... as if I really needed to put that in writing just to get some when I get back after being gone a month ...). Honestly, though, I'm a pretty practical person, so I'll tell you what I miss - grass. Just a patch of green grass would be nice. There was a chunk they planted - about 15 yards by 10 yards - in the middle of the Olympic Park. Yeah, it lasted about 4 days before it's half brown. I imagine by Friday it'll look like the rest of Greek landscaping.

I also miss properly prepared foods. Simple foods. I'm not talking about Chateubriand. I'm talking simple rice, vegetables, and bread. Food is very much overcooked in Greece, everywhere. I thought I made bad steamed (aka mush) vegetables at home, but this place is ridiculous. It's like forking yogurt. Meat is like the scene in Christmas Vacation when the family is sitting around the table knawing on the turkey pieces, and "Clark Griswald" takes a huge gulp of water to swish around in his mouth with the turkey. And the rolls - wow - one bite and they disintegrate into dust. It's kind of sad that it's a decision, and a really hard, long thought-out decision on whether to try to eat a balanced meal of well-done everything, or ... (ugh) ... McDonald's.

Another thing I miss - my shower. The shower in our room is literally 2 ft. x 2 ft., with the curtain on the inside of that, and fixtures a little above waist high that stick out about 6 inches from the wall. You can't turn around without smacking your elbows on the fixtures, and you have to turn around, because if you keep your back to the curtain, undoubtedly the force of the water pushes the curtain outside the 1-inch lip, and you flood the bathroom. But the real clincher is heaven forbid you drop the soap. You can't bend over to pick it up because once your butt touches the curtain, it's stuck to you, and as you stand up, it creeps up your back and plasters to you like a saran wrap cocoon. Once you squirm to escape the Elmer's-like grasp of the demon curtain, the corner attaches itself to your thigh like a leech, you spin around to swat that off, and next thing you know you're crawling across the floor of your room like an inchworm, trying to dial your roomie on your cell phone with your tongue to come rescue you.

Day 16 - Aug. 21

Dreamweaver is acting up today, so this is the third time I've started this page. One more time ...

OK - so I got about two dozen emails of complaint that I hadn't updated the site in a while. First of all, this ain't TGI Friday's - we don't take comment cards. Second, if you've been watching the Games on TV, or reading about them in the newspaper, or ... even just been alive the past week, you probably heard that both our teams won silver, Paul Hamm won the first ever men's all-around Olympic gold by an American, and Carly Patterson won the first all-around gold in a non-boycotted Games. I thought I was busy after team events - that's NOTHING compared to the all-around medals and events.

I also got a few emails saying you appreciated learning what happens when a team wins a medal. When an individual medals, there's twice as much attention. So I decided to keep a running log of what Carly did, and therefore, what I did, for the first few hours.

10:30 p.m. - Carly wins the first U.S. women's Olympic all-around title since Mary Lou Retton. She leaps off the floor podium into her coach's arms, gets congratulated by all her teammates, and bounces off the arena floor as if she hadn't spent an ounce of energy in the past two hours.

10:35 p.m. - Carly gets "tagged" for drug testing, meaning she has to return within one hour to sign in, or they could record it as a positive test and take her medal away. That's the simple explanation.

10:40 p.m. - The gold medal is hung around her neck, and the National Anthem echoes throughout the arena. The 5'0" girl who lived under the pressure of being proclaimed "the next Mary Lou" three years ago has finally ascended the podium, and launches herself into stardom. Millions of little girls will now aspire to be "the next Carly".

10:45 p.m. - Carly first must interview with the television media, including TV stations from the USA, Canada, Great Britain, Japan, Hong Kong, China, Brazil, Germany, Mexico, and several others. We always stop and talk to NBC's Andrea Joyce first, since she's hosting the broadcast in the U.S. Andrea is the best - always polite, always mindful of the kids, always a promoter of U.S. gymnastics and their achievements. She's also quite a fan of Carly's, as you can see at right, too short to see over the green wall into the arena, she celebrates Carly's win, having to watch it on a monitor!

11:03 p.m. - Following those interviews, she visits with radio stations that broadcast the Olympic Games worldwide. Below is Courtney being interviewed in the radio area.

 

11:07 p.m. - Next its on to the print media area, where just a 4-foot high fence separates Carly from nearly 100 journalists all seeking a comment from the newest Olympic champion. 11:17 p.m. - When she finishes there, she puts on her warm-ups pants and a shirt, and proceeds to a press conference for the foreign journalists. Carly answers questions from a half-dozen foreign-speaking journalists, and gives her answers while interpretators translate her answers into Russian, French and Greek. Normally, I hang out between the blue fence and the green fence, waiting on the athletes to come through, and stopping them at each station.

11:33 p.m. - Following the press conference, Carly proceeds to drug testing, where she must be tested to be sure she was not cheating when she won the medal - she passes the test with flying colors!

12:50 p.m. By now, it's two hours from the end of the competition, and finally she gets to see her mom and aunts outside the arena.

1:10 a.m. - After a few minutes with them, Carly, her coach, her trainer, and our security agent are whisked away in a van to another press conference for even more TV stations and journalists who were not able to attend the competition. She answers another 20 questions on camera, seated next to her coach, Yevgeny Marchenko. On the way into the building, every person on the street, every security guard, every volunteer, etc. has to stop her and congratulate her on winning gold. She takes a few photos, signs a few autographs along the way. The amount of time she's outside a secured area is just long enough to take her from the van to the VIP entrance about 20 steps away. And a side note for everyone, gold medals don't set off the metal detectors as you can see here when I had Carly "salute" after blazing through the metal detector with her medal on.

1:40 a.m. Next, she walks across the street to another building where she is interviewed live by Bob Costas, host of NBC's Olympics broadcast, and then interviewed again by Pat O'Brien, the host of NBC's late-night Olympics show.

2:30 a.m. - By now, it's 2:30 a.m. - nearly four hours after the competition, and Carly is finally allowed to go home and go to bed. But she can't sleep, and doesn't fall asleep until nearly 5 a.m! That's what happens after you win a gold medal!

As an exclusive for everyone following at home, other things that happen when you're Carly and you win an all-around gold medal: You get put on the Wheaties box, you get invited to be one of Glamour's Women of the Year, you get to go on Letterman and Leno, get your portrait in SI, People, Time and Newsweek, and you get invited to be on a float at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

If you're Paul Hamm and you win an all-around gold medal, you get a lifetime of scrutiny and an asterisk next to your name after the international federation announces three days later that a scoring mistake was made and a Korean guy should have gotten the gold instead. But they don't change the results or issue a second medal, they just let you live with a medal knowing that it's not rightfully yours. Oh, and you get spit in your kim-chee at every Korean restaurant in North America. Apparently the Koreans are appealing to the international court of arbitration for sport trying to get the gold medal for their guy. It's their right to appeal. No doubt about that. But it was also their responsibility to file their protest within the time frame specified in the rules, and they knew that. They'd filed a protest two days earlier. But after all-around, they waited not just 5 minutes too late, or an hour too late - they waited more than 26 hours too late. So I feel bad for them, and I don't. You decide.

For the past few days, I was Adam Sandler's kid in "Big Daddy" - the smelly kid. I couldn't do laundry until today, and apparently I'd miscalculated the number of shirts to bring, so I had to recycle one. And trust me, though it was the least smelly, it definitely ranked right up there on the stank-o-meter somewhere between Bulgarian tourist and "12 hour bus ride to New Delhi".

So I hauled my stinky underoos over to the laundry facility, only to discover possibly the smallest laundry machines I'd ever seen. According to the manual, they're highly energy efficient. In Greece, energy efficiency means "not dry". I ran the dryer for no less than an hour and they could have still used another hour or two.

Also on the list of not efficient - elevators Greece. They're rather spooky actually. Ever get into an elevator, hit the button, the door closes and then ... just sits there. And the doors won't open again. For, like, a minute. It freaks you out. The new ones in our hospital are fine, but at the main press center, you risk being trapped for days in there. Not that anyone has, because once you're in there, and if the elevator doesn't start moving, don't worry, it will ... as soon as someone else hits a button somewhere, and calls the elevator. Then it proceeds to your floor. So, you take your chances. Personally, I ride the escalators, even after the escalators are off for the night, I ride the escalators.

OK - I've got more stories to tell, but the latest news is the Korean's are in action again, so we have to mobilize the troops. And this was supposed to be my day off.

Day 17 - Aug. 23

I'm not really sure if this is day 17. I'm just pulling that number out of my you know where. I think it's actually day 18, but as you can see, I've lost count. So let's just call it day 8 before I go home, how's that?

So the U.S. girls won three more medals last night on performances that, if we'd been that good during the team final, we could have won a team gold instead of team silver. Honestly, I've grown attached to the women's team - every one of them has a great story as to how they got on the team and how they or their family has struggled to make it work. Annia, who won silver on vault, is the Cuban immigrant, 26 years old, who was considered one of the best vaulters in the world until she tore her ACL in her left knee a year ago. She's a fighter, a true warrior. She fought to become the first-ever world medalist for a Latin or Central American nation, even more significant that she's a woman. She fought the Cuban government to compete in the 1996 Olympics when she qualified, but they wouldn't let her go. She later fought the Cuban government for her release, so that she could go compete somewhere else, for her new country. She fought a new battle as a businesswoman and coach, founding a gym in Connecticut, trying to make ends meet. She fought past all the youthful, bouncing pixies to make the World Championships team a year ago. Then, just when she thought she'd won, her knee failed her during training the day before the World Championships, and the bell rang to begin the next round of her fight. Every day was a struggle - she's 26 - a grandmother in gymnastics terms. Could her body take not only the rehab, but the pounding of one of the most physically challenging gymnastics events? Could she keep her married and business lives on hold another year as she worked to fulfill the one dream that her native land kept from her eight years earlier? Annia answered those questions on Sunday, 370 days after blowing out her knee, by blowing out the competition in the vault final and winning a silver medal.

Courtney was in the same boat a year ago. She actually got to compete in the World Championships, helping the team to a second-place finish in prelims, and qualifying for the all-around and bars finals. But the next day, in training, she shredded her Achilles tendon, and watched the rest of the World Championships from a hospital room in Washington, D.C., admittedly sobbing as her teammates accepted the team gold medal on her behalf. She vowed to return, not just to competition, but proclaiming that she would stand on the medal podium in Athens. And she did - twice - once with her teammates, and once by herself. Terin Humphrey stood up there with Courtney, one platform higher, yet even she did not think she'd even be in the spotlight - she never had before. Terin has been forgotten by the media as the anonymous fourth all-arounder, the girl not strong enough on any individual event to make a final, the girl who made the team because she was a back-up to the stronger team members. Terin is the quiet one, the one who doesn't fight back with words, but with talent. She's proven throughout the season that she's possibly the most consistent of all the athletes, finishing among the top four at most major national meets, and proved in team prelims and finals here that, although she's not the strongest kid, nor the most flashy, or demonstrates the most personality, that she represents the foundation of what this group of girls is based on - consistency, excellence and preserving the "team" concept.

I was pretty amazed last night. It was also pretty gratifying to see Svetlana Khorkina fall. Svetlana is a three-time world all-around champion and one of the most decorated gymnasts in history. What she (obviously) lacks in tumbling ability, her lanky form makes up in grace and elegance on the apparatus. Svetlana won the world title in 2003 by the narrowest of margins because Carly had to dumb-down her vault due to a broken elbow and torn elbow ligaments. Of course, Svetlana thinks she won that event because she was the best, regardless of injuries. Now, I know what you're thinking - that's cruel to say I gain pleasure from seeing an athlete screw up. But you know what? Just read what she had to say about the all-around competition the other night:

"I'm just furious. I knew well in advance, even before I stepped on the stage for my first event, that I was going to lose. Everything was decided in advance. I had no illusions about this when the judges gave me a 9.462 for the vault after conferring with one another at length. I practically did everything right, still they just set me up and fleeced me."

And, when asked why she felt she was marked down by the judges, she said, "You better ask them. I think it's because I'm from Russia, not from America!"

Asked if she thought Carly was a worthy opponent, she said, "I've seen much tougher opposition than her. Let's see how long she can remain on top. Can she keep going and compete in two more Olympics like myself? No" Well, you better write that Patterson is a great champion and she has a great future," she said sarcastically.

And now you, too, are wearing a sly smile that she fell off the high bar in her "crowning moment" at the Olympics. Svetlana's talent was in masking poor gymnastics with grace and elegance. Too bad she's unable to use that same grace and elegance to mask how much of a bitter sore loser she is. She bolted from the field of play before the last gymnast (bronze medalist Terin Humphrey) performed.

In other news ... the men's all-around controversy rages on. In case you aren't reading it in your papers at home, or if you only read Christine Brennan's crappy column, then you probably haven't heard that the Korean who benefitted from the video review of the one skill, would not benefit if the entire routine were examined. (First, might I add that it's against the rules to even review the routine on film, much less change the results) Upon independent review of the entire routine, officials are now saying he should have been deducted for something else, even more obvious, and an even greater deduction. At first, I was on the side of "Paul should offer up the gold or offer to share it," but now that I've seen the film, and trust me - it's an obvious judging mistake in this new revelation as well - I'm of the opinion that the Korean should be happy he still has the bronze. Unfortunately, the U.S. Olympic Committee is starting to cave in because they don't want to be seen as the ugly Americans. If I'm waging war on this, I go public with the tapes. But ... my opinion doesn't matter - it's up to the tie-wearing crowd now.

Speaking of ties, don't see a lot of those in Greece. It's too hot. Lots of white linen, though. Every stereotype you ever had about dark-haired macho men in white linen pants and unbuttoned white linen shirts, fluffed black shag serving as a blanket for a couple shell pendants on a thick gold chain, combing the clubs for dark-haired, '80s styled women in tight white pants, huge hoop earrings and white linen shirts - trust me, it's all true. There's more white linen here than at a gauze pad factory.

My shorts were finally dry this morning. Probably because I hung them up on the corners of my clothes cabinet and left the window open last night. Left the window open because there was a nice, cool breeze. Apparently, that breeze turned into a measurable wind, causing the building to enter self-defense mode, raising the blinds and allowing all of Athens to get a nice view of Eric and I sleeping in our boxers. I don't understand how a hospital can operate like that. Automatic blinds? What a stupid, stupid idea. Imagine a sick patient, lying in bed in the middle of the night, or a newborn baby, or a patient suffering a life-threatening emergency being worked on, and the wind blows one kph too strong, and all of a sudden all of Athens is in the front row for the new Athens ER reality show. I don't get it, and it really bothers me.

In other news ... this Hamm thing is monopolizing my time. Normally, event finals is a relaxing time at the Olympics. Everyone gets a medal, everyone goes home happy, ties aren't broken ... oh, no wait, they are. The rules states that they don't break ties for event finals but for some reason last night they did. Not sure why. Oh well. Leave it up to the FIG to go against its own rules again. I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait for Rhythmic to begin!

Last thought - I think I broke the office digital camera, so that may limit my ability to give you any more exclusive photos. I'll work on it though and see what I can figure out!

Day 20 - Aug. 25

I figured out the deal with the office camera finally. Not sure how, but it works. I'm also going to synchro tonight. Figured out the ticket system process and can get tix for $10, so I'm going. I'll give the full report later.

So ... latest in the Paul Hamm thing. I can say this because no gymnastics people are reading - Paul and his dad are ... not so bright. Intentionally misleading? Just don't get it? (choose one) Today's article in the New York Times will help you understand why. I also had issue with the writer, who totally balked at what I talked to her about. And she wouldn't accept the means by which our President would answer her questions, and never called him even after he asked her to. Whatever. The New York Times sucks.

Another beautiful day in Athens - sun shining, lots of pregnant women walking into the hospital next door, Olympic flame still-a-blazin', leaning a little left in the breeze. I'm getting dressed this morning - fresh out of the shower, nothin' but a towel on (calm down, ladies ...), and ... (low humming sound) ... up go the blinds, as the building enters self-defense mode because of the breeze. Nice.

Saw the Acropolis again from the top of the USA House last night. Did you know that the reason it's built there, and apparently the reason it's called an "acropolis" is because it has a natural water source? Yeah - this huge rock right in the middle of everything - they built stuff up there because they could defend it on the hill, and if they had to defend it, from inside the walls, they had a natural water source so they could survive cut off from the city. At least that's the story the Greeks tell. I think they built it up there because they knew it'd look cool on postcards 2,000 years later.

OK - I have to cut it short today. Going to synchro. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Day 21 - Aug. 26

It's actually the 27th as I'm writing this, but it's the 26th in the States, so I'll just go with it.

Went to Synchro last night (random photos of the venue, team, Anna & Alison and their medals are at right). First Olympic event other than Gymnastics that I've seen. It was without a doubt the most full venue I've seen at the Games so far. It's also one of the smallest, but still, very full, at least 95% capacity. Much better than track & field's morning prelims, where announcers are often heard joking about how the white seatbacks in the background of every shot really make the athletes stand out.

After Synchro, I was walking through the Olympic Park on my way back. The place was fairly empty because track was in session. About halfway across the park, you could hear the track stadium blaring the music from Zorba the Greek, meaning a Greek athlete was up next in some event. It turns out, it was the women's 400m hurdles (or is it 300m, I don't remember). Anyway, the Greek gal was obviously having a good race, because the crowd was roaring at a volume that I'd never heard before. And it kept escalating, getting louder by the second. People were running around the Olympic Park on their cell phones like expectant fathers, jumping up and down, screaming into the phone. Volunteers surfaced from every crevice of every building, trying to get a peak into the stadium, or at least at one of the various big screens around the park. The Greek runner broke away from the pack in the last 50m, and ended up winning by about 4 lengths. You'd have thought that every single person in Greece had just won the lottery. The ground was shaking with the raw energy inside the stadium. Busses and cars were driving by honking their horns. Every single Greek in the park was back on their cell phone, calling someone, some crying, some just screaming with joy at whomever would listen. It was truly amazing the reaction to this one race, this one track & field gold medal. Every TV I walked by on the jaunt home and through the press center was replaying the race. We went to Alpha Club to see Mantos, and the TVs over the bar that normally play fashion videos were all tuned to the race replays and to live TV where the Greek athlete was dragged from station to station, going live to the studio for 8-10 minute interviews on every channel. Nearly a mile away by that point, and almost a full hour since the race had concluded, cars were still honking, and in what Greek I've learned, people were still shouting out her name on the streets, to the vendors and volunteers, congratulating each other as if every citizen were her personal trainer. It was truly a sight and sound frenzy like none I've ever enjoyed before.

My "adwenture" continued today at rhythmic gymnastics. I've made it clear, and Lori knows so don't even bother calling her like it's a scandal - there's something about Mary ... Sanders, our rhythmic girl. She's just the best. She knows she's in a screwed up pseudo-sport, and that the judging sucks, and that if you're name doesn't end in "ova" or "eva" that you're not going to win. She knows that, yet she wears her smile in front of the media and says nice things about everyone, and cruises along the high road more often than a Greatful Dead roadie. Today, she got the royal shaft - scored in like 19th place, though she had no faults in her routine. They counted her off for missing elements that were right there in front of the judges' eyes. It was sad. She was sad. I felt bad for her, because she's done everything to make her routines more difficult, and more jam-packed than a second-grader's lunch box, and yet she gets no recognition. Our folks filed a protest, but who knows where that will lead. She's in 19th place, when just a few months ago at the World Championships, at this point she was in 9th. It's embarassing for all judged sports when judges rank people top-down rather than judging accurately based on what they see in front of them. To seal the deal, the reigning European champ dropped her hoop on on catch move, and on two other throws, was totally off and had to run after the damn thing - yet she's still in first place. The Russian TV lady I've been working with here, a former rhythmic athlete, said she was ashamed of the quality of the judging today. I agree.

Side note - visited the Alpha Club last night. Mantos, our fresh and full of life waiter guy wasn't there. His co-hort with a name that sounds like Meaty or something like that, was our server instead. He's kind of ... metrosexual, I think is the nice term. So now we have Manthos, fresh and full of life, and "Metros" (pronounced Me-trose) - the twin metrosexual servers at Alpha Club. And he only brought us one shot for free. Cheap bastard.

Day 22 - Aug. 27

Only three competition days left before the end of the Olympics (including today). It seems to last a lot longer than it does. The Games are only 16 days of competition, but we've been here significantly longer preparing for the media onslaught. Some things, you just can't prepare for, which I've learned here better than anyone. On one hand, you have a child of 16 who lived up to the expectations that were heaped on her for the past three years, emerging from the pack and toppling the sport's biggest diva. On the other hand, you have a man who surprised as many as he disappointed by also living up to the expectations of the nation, separating himself from a deep, talented field to win all-around gold, only to have accusations and inquiries dominate the press during what should have been his shining moment. Dealing with those two extremes in the media has been the greatest learning experience for everyone. And trust me when I say it's not over, in either case. We all thought the doping story was going to be huge here, but the judged sports have successfully taken over the top slot on the controversy list. Though I can't reveal what's going down in a few hours here on the men's all-around medal topic, get out your pen & paper or PDA or whatever you use, 'cause here's what's happening on the girls' front:

Aug. 29 - Carly presents an award at the MTV Video Music Awards in Miami; Access Hollywood begins their "week in the life" with Carly and the team
Aug. 30 - Carly (and Access) flies to New York for a press conference to announce she's on the Wheaties box (with Michael Phelps), appears on Letterman
Aug. 31 - Carly's on the Today Show; remaining girls are in LA on local shows there, with Access documenting the whole thing; Carly flies to LA, and all the girls appear on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno, then are set to "be seen" at Ashton Kutcher's restaurant for the paparazzi, E!, and Entertainment Tonight types
Sept. 1 - The girls do Good Day LA (the hottest morning show in LA), CBS Early Show, Dr. Phil, Best Damn Sports Show, maybe Dennis Miller Live, and tape with the Ellen DeGeneres show; the girls then attend a movie premiere and walk the red carpet (not sure which movie yet - Access Hollywood is setting that up for us)
Sept. 2 - the girls fly to Dallas and meet up with the men's team, where they are honored as grand marshals of a parade just for them in Allen, Texas, and a party at Carly's gym; then go to Texas Stadium where they are honorary team captains for the Dallas Cowboys and get to participate in the coin toss before the game
Sept. 3 - the girls and guys do radio call-ins across the country that morning to promote the Tour; also uplink via satellite to local morning shows across the nation; do local TV in Dallas and an autograph signing for the public that afternoon; start training for the Tour that night through the weekend.

So ... on one hand, I'm lucky I don't come home until the 31st, otherwise I'd be on the road trying to manage this gaggle. On the other hand, I'd kind of like to meet Jay Leno. Oh well.

One more day of rhythmic. I'd like to have two more days (I know what you're thinking - "he's WANTING to see rhythmic?"), which would mean Mary would advance, but I don't see that happening unless we get good news about her inquiry. Here's something I know you didn't know about rhythmic. What's the one outside factor that can affect the performance of a rhythmic athlete? Air conditioning. Yeah, it's like if you left the jets on during figures. The A/C blowing around effects the trajectory of the thrown ball, and the swirling air can totally tie up a ribbon in knots. So arenas blast the A/C right up until the start time for an event. It's like walking into an icebox. Then, just before the first girl walks out, they cut it off, and you can just feel the temperature rising for the next two and a half hours. By the end of the meet, the arena is full of "shimmering" Russian and Bulgarian rhythmic fans. Meanwhile, the lack of A/C causes another problem - sweaty athletes. The perspiration can cause them to lose grip on the ball, and when their skin is damp, if the ribbon so much as brushes the flesh, it sticks, and the kid gets tangled up in it. So those early in the draw are OK, but by the second half of the competition, you can see the athletes, just before they walk out, patting flesh-tone talcum powder all over their arms, legs, shoulders, etc. so that for the next two minutes, they don't get tied up in knots. See there? And you thought I didn't know anything about rhythmnic gymnastics. On that note, I think it's going to be another month before I can re-establish what's left of my manhood.

Day 24 - Aug. 29

I woke up today and could feel my body pounding still from the music of the night before. First, I should say I woke up at 2:30. Only because I went to bed at 7:30. I went to the Sports Illustrated closing party last night. Quite an event. I went early fro two reasons - 1, so I could eat something and not have to wait in lines, and 2, because Eric and I thought it'd take an hour and a half to get there (as everyone told us). Eric and I decided just to take the media bus as far south as we could, then cab it from there. So we got on the Helleniko bus, which dropped us off in the middle of nowhere at 9 p.m., near the softball park and field hockey stadium. The loop bus took us around toward the main road, where we crossed the foot bridge, and asked a volunteer how to get to the Akrotiri lounge. She pointed to a sign, and voila, it was about 40 yards down the dark road behind us, toward the coast. That's why we got there early - because we dumb-lucked into the right bus and it only took us 30 minutes to get there.

I'll try to sum it up with words - basically, it's like a posh outdoor uber-lounge. Imagine the slickest Vegas nightclub, opening up to a monstrous outdoor patio right on the water. First, as you approach the front door, there's people there trained to know who you are. They welcome you and give you a credential for their party. You walk in through a wall of hanging silver beads, with "Sports Illustrated" in red beads blended in. White curtains hang down from the ceilings and walls, back lit with dim orange spotlights. The walls move with swirling lights of different shades. Immediately you're standing at a bar, stocked three and four cases high of everything you can imagine. It's not hard to find yourself running into a bar - there's three of them, all about the size of my living room, and two others just smaller than my garage. As I wandered left around the room, the ceiling quickly vanished as the lounge setting opened up to a huge marble pool deck, with varying levels of secluded hardwood floored mini-lounges. Plush gray velour loveseats with four little box-shaped stools surround custom table candles with Sports Illustrated on the glass. You can't help to notice across the pool the wall of torches that line the ocean-front railing, detailed with 4-foot tall silver metallic letters spelling out the name of our host. I wander past the first of four food stations, this one with no less than 10 different kinds of salads - everything from red beans, to roasted pepper salad to tsaziki (traditional Greek "salad" with yogurt, dill, onions, etc.) - plus hundreds of rolls, breads, fruits, etc. Behind it, down a few steps, another bar, just 20 steps from the one up three or four steps to my left. The bar at left is sunken, and weaves its way among a huge S curve of couches so that every patron seems to have a personal attendant. I walk down the short end of the pool, opting to stay on the deck rather than utilize the bridge over it. The area to my left opens up into a second food station, this one serving traditional Greek gyros, carved fresh from two skewered mystery animals rotating on spits over open coals (lamb and ... couldn't quite identify the second, I'm guessing maybe stray dog). The other half of the station served up fresh pastas, a penne with lobster and an orichette (sp?) with olives and basil. The mystery meat station, a wine only bar, and a third food station backed up against the water, serving fresh seafood, sushi, and grilled lobsters, all surrounded bar #4 (the smallest bar so far). Walking down the waterfront rail from the seafood station, the massive Sports Illustrated letters between me and the water, I passed the long side of the 20m pool, rounded the end of it and came up a few steps onto the dance floor. A small bar to the right catered to the dancers, with the final food station tucked away to the left of the dance floor serving frozen drinks, ice cream, pastries, and all sorts of other desserts. That brings me back around to the front door - in all, the whole place ran the square footage of a softball field.

At 9:15, there was already about 50 people there. By 11, probably about 300. By 1 a.m., I'm guessing about 500. Mostly athletes, but also some big-wigs SI wanted to entertain, and plenty of celebrity athletes brought in just for the Games and the party - Evander Holyfield, Carl Lewis, Dominique Moceanu - and plenty of TV and other types who just wanted the rub with the athletes.A band flown in from Australia entertained at intervals with a live DJ playing thumping club music. In between acts, various medals were celebrated - the men's & women's world record rowing teams, the women's soccer team, the water polo and synchro teams, women's basketball, Michael Phelps swimming medals, etc.

However, the music stopped and the crowd fought to get to the front when the synchro team walked in, parted the crowd, and dove into the pool to show off their bronze-medal team routine. It was pretty amazing as folks were stacked 8 and 10 deep around the pool, standing on top of the railings over the bridge and on the speakers, to watch the team perform. And even more amazing, less than 10 minutes after, the entire team was decked out and in the party as if they'd just arrived fresh from the Athletes Village. Amazing how quickly, when motivated, women can get ready to go out.

Anyway, soon it was 2, then 4 ... then longer because of the number of people, all dancing on the dance floor, on the pool deck, on the bridge - non-stop through until 6. As the place let out and everyone strolled back to the main road, the line for cabs was longer than the line for the bathroom inside. Again, the trusty bus system came in handy, as Eric, Brett and I found our way across the foot bridge, back to the bus, and directly back to our humble hospital rooms. (I've heard today it took some people more than an hour to get a cab, and another hour to ride home.)

In other news, the USA reached the goal some called unattainable - eclipsing 100 medals - with a gold today in boxing, bringing the total to 101 medals won. That's pretty amazing by all accounts, considering this is one of the USA's smallest delegations. Also considering the fact that the USA didn't even qualify in baseball, men's soccer, field hockey, and a few other sports we normally do well in, and considering that the men's Dream Team in basketball turned out to be duds. Competing against the odds, with every crowd against you, the combined U.S. teams still walked away with the most medals. I'm not bragging, just stating that it's a testament to the way we as Americans do things on a daily basis back home, hour after hour, day after day, in the gyms, in the pools, on the track, in the training room, in the front office - everyone doing their part, it all comes together on the playing field in the form of medals. Breaking news! Just after I posted this, a Colombian cyclist tested positive for drugs (you're all giggling at the irony, I know), pushing the U.S. total to 102.

It's not over yet, either - there's still events going on, right up until 8:30 tonight when the men's marathon concludes, the final event of every Olympics, and the one on which the ancient Greek Olymipcs were founded, and one of the greatest traditions at the Olympics, when the marathon medals are awarded in front of 50,000 fans celebrating the conclusion of another great Games at the Closing Ceremonies.

Nothing's open today, so I'm going to try to go souvenir shopping tomorrow and get up to the Parthenon. The attempt to squeeze in a dive trip isn't going to happen - the boats are full, and I really don't want the work of a shore dive. Oh well. I'll just have to come back some other time.

Day 25-26 - Aug. 30-31

Pin trading has really stepped up in the closing days, as it does at every Games. Now, I'm not a hard-ass, but pins are for a) trading, or b) bribing. They're not for giving away to people who ask for them. That's not the point. You get a pin if you do something to help me, or if you give me a pin. Very simple. It takes only about two people to ask you for a pin before you just want to hand them a leaflet on the etiquette of pin trading. What's worse, even the security folks have gotten into it - if you try to pass through security with pins your bag, they stop your bag, make you open it for a search, and when they find the pins, they say (in Greek accent), "You 'ave peen for me?" No, Dimitros, I don't. You just took five minutes out of my day for a needless search so that you could ask for a pin. And now that you've revealed that I have them, the other 22 volunteers lurking around the security checkpoint, seeing what metal you place in the basket, all also now know my secret stash in my bag and now they all want "peens" too. Go away, smelly man.

Within minutes of Closing Ceremonies beginning, Greece started celebrating the end of a successful Games, one in which security and doping concerns, judging controversies and preparedness issues far overshadowed anything that happened on the playing field. On one hand, it's a shame that all thos discussions took the headlines away from the athletic accomplishments. On the other hand, it will help sporting officials better prepare for the next Games, and help the hosts prioritize their energy in years to come. The Greeks celebrated by throwing one big party, all over town. Those of us still in the Main Press Center decided to escape - 1, because nobody else was working, so why should we, and 2, because nobody else was working. Greece took the night off. Just like Opening Ceremonies, the busses stopped running, the trains stopped running, even the security forces scanning people entering our building stopped working. Thus, we were probably safer on the streets of Athens than in our building.

So about halfway through the ceremony, we lucked into some transportation to the Plaka (the shopping area) and met up with some folks for a closing meal with friends - a traditional Greek meal of Souvlaki, bread with olive oil, toast with tsaziki, white wine, and a three-person band singing folk tunes while Greeks danced in big circle, all at ... you guessed it ... a rooftop bar looking up at the Acropolis. First, I must say that Souvlaki is like the national meal of Greece. Moussaka comes close - it's like lasagna with white cream sauce on top (sometimes made with eggplant). Gyros - hard to find, actually, unless you're in that type of area where street vendors prevail. But Souvlaki - everywhere, and everyone claims to make it better than the next guy. Souvlaki is Greek for shishkebab, or meat on a stick. Souvlaki comes in many different forms. The traditional form is a mystery meat - lamb, pork, chicken, beef - you can't tell really. If given the choice, I ordered chicken. Anyway, throughout the Games, we spent a lot of time in the Olympic Park, confined within our own little international settings, hanging out with our own little group of repoters and co-workers. But for this one night, with the music playing, the people dancing, the waiter who didn't speak a lick of English for a change - we were in Greece. It actually felt like Greece, and not some random international tourist destination. That was a nice change.

With the office walls coming down around us on Monday morning and no internet access, we opted to get out and see some of Greece. But first, a trip to the Superstore. You may remember in Sydney some of the goofy items they had on sale - Olympic golf clubs, Olymipc dinnerware sets, etc. The golf clubs were certainly strange. Greece, the land where the only liquid more plentiful that olive oil, wine and water is sweat, has actually developed an Olympic cologne. It's called Olympic Spirit, and it's supposed to smell like ... well, not sure what it smelled like. Which brings us to the greater, philosophical question - what is Olympic Spirit supposed smell like? Does it smell like a mixture of Icy Hot, perspiration and chlorine? Does it smell like the Greek sand, McDonald's grill and a hint of natural gas from the Olympic flame? Not sure. One thing's for sure, though, it can't hide the Olympic Spirit scent of those I saw "sampling" from the tester bottle. Two of the stankiest Japanese touristos were drowning themselves in it, obviously trying to cover up their best impression of a sewage plant. So to me, as I walked by, that's what Olympic Spirit will forever smell like. Coming to stores near you ...

After the Superstore, we finally got to do the tourist thing and walk up to the Acropolis, climbing the steps to the Partenon, Nike's temple and the new museum. The walk isn't bad at all. I thought it was going to be a hike, but it's pretty easy. Ascending the top, though, was immaculate - from the view, the history, the articles on display in the museum. After a few minutes, you find yourself looking at an ancient carving, wondering how long it may have taken some poor craftsman to sculpt a 20-foot by 8 foot statue of two lionesses attacking a bull, or a 12-foot statue of a great warrior. Then you read the plaque next to it, and it's weird - after the 8th or 10th artifact you read about, you find yourself ironically unimpressed that a certain item, no matter the size, shape or importance, you're unimpressed that it's only from like 400 B.C. when the one over there is from 560 B.C. "Oh, this one's not as old as THAT one ...".

We returned to the base, and ventured over into Monster-Teriyaki (I think the real name is Monasteriki, or something like that), where we did all our souvenir shopping. We were given enough per diem on this trip, and didn't eat so much, that I was able to use per diem and not spend a dime of my own cash. That's always nice, ... yet it doesn't always ensure that everyone will get something, so don't get your hopes up. The area is lined wall to wall, up and down every alley, with vendors of every sort. It's tough to pick out the quality ones, but I think I did OK. You can be the judge. I could never take Lori to the Plaka or Monster-Teriyaki, I'd go broke. We did have a gyro for dinner down there before heading back at around 8 to pack.

Transportation out of Greece meant going to the airport at roughly 4 a.m. to catch our charter at 7. The U.S. contracted with Excel Airlines, a regional British airline, to get members of the delegation from Athens to hub cities in Europe - it sure beat the lines we saw at all of the other check-in counters. People were stacked 100-plus deep at every counter, where the U.S. had three dedicated agents for our flight of 120 people. It was nice for two reasons - 1, you knew you would end up sitting next to someone you know, and 2, you knew that person was not going to be the same guy masking his horrendous B.O. with Olympic Spirit. Half the athletes getting on the plane with us were hung over, the other half so dizzy from lack of sleep - we'd been up all night by the time the flight left at 7:40 a.m. As for Excel Airlines, they're no United. In fact, they're no Southwest, except we did get a meal. And apparently Excel didn't get the memo about 10 years back that airlines were upgrading their food quality, as this was absolutely the worst breakfast ever served by anyone other than a tribal bushman of the outback. Some sort of egg-looking mash, a plop of tomato pasty stuff, and a side of whipped peas that bordered baby food. It was rough. I just can't imagine why the Brits are not known for their culinary skills?

So ... that brings this journal to a close, I guess. Sorry it wasn't as exciting as those that preceded it. Honestly, I've never worked so hard and such long hours in my life. For the first week, I was working like 10-10. Then during events, 10-3:40 a.m. Then that last stretch, 10-midnight, with a couple late-nights thrown in. I got my sleep, mom, don't worry - just not much of it. I think in some ways, this experience was better than Sydney in that I felt like I knew more about what I was doing and how to do it. On the other hand, there was vastly more to do, more than any one person could accomplish, and thus I ended up feeling like I could have done more. Those of you who followed all our successes and controversies can understand. The Games themselves, Sydney was far better - the atmosphere, the events, the mood amongst those attending, the media attention, etc. The experience, I'd probably rank it Sydney, Salt Lake, then Athens. Each has its own attributes, but I don't think you'll hear anyone who's been to more than one Olympics say that the Athens Games were the best they'd attended, for whatever reason.

Things I'll miss about Greece: 1) sipping a frothy beverage with the night glow of the Arcroplis staring over your shoulder; 2) lively late-night crowds and sleepy mornings - they work the same schedule I do; 3) volunteers who appreciate advice, since they were all new to running sports events; 4) shopping options of the Plaka and Monster-Teriyaki - beats the hell out of going to a mall; 5) small outfits on the ladies.

Things I won't miss about Greece: 1) heat, blowing dirt and sand; 2) stray animals and mystery meat; 3) ridiculous security, at times; 4) not being able to read even the simplest signs; 5) tiny bathrooms and non-flushable TP.

A jaunt to Frankfurt, a skip over to United, three mind-numbingly boring movies later, and voila - stateside. Me, I didn't watch the movies - no time between typing, watching Old School, and intermittantly racing to the bathroom thanks to our British breakfast. Excel-ent.