The Ultimate Sports Adventure schedule, an amalgamation of every major event in sports, evolved over several weeks. There were, of course, many events that seemed natural: Super Bowl, NBA Finals, Kentucky Derby, Daytona 500, World Series, the Masters. Men's sports, for a guy's trip. We wanted The Ultimate Sports Adventure to be the Ultimate Guy's Fantasy, a sport fanatic's American dream.
After settling on the majors, we showed the schedule to several of our friends. "Nice," they'd say. "Yeah," we'd say, "and we're planning on going to a bunch of obscure events as well. You know, fishing tournaments, WWF matches, lumberjack competitions," we'd continue. Sadly, that was not communicated effectively in our "major events schedule." We needed an event that would, in effect, make that statement and make it boldly. We started thinking.
"How about Figure Skating?" Rafe said one afternoon. Yes! That was it, figure skating. A few minutes on the internet revealed that the World Championship would be in DC at a time very suitable for tour purposes! It was perfect. So, we added it to the event schedule and then tested out the newly revised Major Event Schedule on some new friends.
"You're going to Figure Skating?" they'd ask incredulously. "You guys are fricking crazy!" Now that's the reaction we're looking for! And so, the 2003 World Figure Skating Championship became a fixture on the major schedule, a talking point, a hook for radio and TV interviews. As a bonus, our initial research showed that some of the figure skating chicks are totally hot.
The MCI Center, in the heart of Washington, D.C., is a short twenty minute drive from the RV park we're staying at in College Park, Maryland. We arrive, pay the exorbitant $20 for parking, and head to a quaint Irish pub across from the center called Fado. We're early and have a few hours to kill, so we naturally break out a deck of cards as we order our first pint of Guinness.
We're playing Chinese poker, our latest obsession. Deal 13 cards and make three hands: 1 "high hand" of 5 cards in the back, 1 "low hand" (23457 being the lowest) in the middle, and 1 "high hand" of 3 cards in the front. After all hands are set, compare. Win 2/3 for $20, 3/3 is $40. It's a very addicting game. Skill is a modest factor, but the swings can be big. After a few Guinnesses and twenty hands, Rafe is stuck $100 and steaming.
Luckily, our friend, Rhonda, shows up and we call the game. Rhonda is a super-cute-smart girl that Phil met last summer in Las Vegas, visited during the US Bridge Championships later that summer, and promised over 9 months ago a date to the World Figure Skating. Remarkably, she's still somewhat single. Even more remarkable, she remembered the date. And for the remarkable trifecta, she actually showed up for the event.
It's Skate Time, and Fado is emptying out. Our plan for tickets is simple: wait for about 15 minutes after the event start when the scalpers will be desperate to make a last minute sale. We know this is going to be what Carl of WebTickets.com calls "a soft ticket." The war with Iraq, threats of terrorism, the fact that its figure skating, and Thursday night are all factors.
We amble down the street and are quickly approached by several scalpers, a sure sign that it's a buyer's market. "Tickets, you need tickets? Whatchoo need?"
"Yep, and you need to get rid of 'em. What's your best price?" we ask one of them who looks desperate, throwing him off his game.
"What are you willing to pay?" he parries, knowing he has a challenge in store.
"Not much, but if you give a good deal, we might take three off your hands."
"Well, I got 3 club box seats. These are $100 tickets. Give me $200 for all three," he offers.
"No, no, no... $200? How about $100 for all three," we counter, knowing that offer will place us in a fine position to pay exactly half of face value, $150, if we can just outwait this guy. Rhonda, clearly amused at the interaction, helps us out. "Why don't we go down the street and see what those other guys have?" she suggests, a quick study. Our scalper is stuck.
"Come on man, I'm dying out here. Gimme something, $170." We start walking.
"Final offer, $150. Take it or leave it," Rafe says. But we're not done.
"$160, man, I gotta eat tonight. I've got $150 in the tickets, gimme something," he's almost pleading now.
"Looks like you'll be eating those tickets. Yum, yum!" Beaten, the scalper relents, "Okay, $150." We hand him $160 anyway, with a wink, and head into MCI Center and our half price box seats.
The fifth competitor is skating when we arrive at the box. There are about 8 people in the box, including two adorable little kids. We have our own bathroom, TV, and bar stools set up overlooking the ice from about 40 feet up. Love the box. We've got plenty of room to spread out, but then again, so does everyone else: the arena is only half full. And we're all sporting a pretty good buzz.
Roman Skorniakov, from that figure skating powerhouse Uzbekistan, is skating. We take our seats just in time to see 2 1/2 rotations on a triple-something-or-other, which plants poor Roman on his ass. The crowd moans, we moan, and we're sure Roman moans. A few more spins, a few tumbles, and the program is gratefully brought to an end. The crowd claps, more from pity than true appreciation.
"The marks for Roman Skorniakov from Uzbekistan please," the announcer announces, a pregnant pause for effect, "For technical merit, marks range from 4.3 to 5.0," and the crowd simultaneously claps and hisses, "For presentation, marks range from 4.3 to 4.9. This currently places Roman Skorniakov in 1st place overall."
Well, we thought, if that was the first place performance, we certainly didn't miss anything spectacular in the first four competitors.
"Those marks seem a little low to me, Rafe," Phil says. "Is that out of 10.0?" he inquires a bit too loudly. Rafe ponders. The eight year old girl sitting in front of him turns around and looks at him like he's from outer space. "No silly, it's out of 6!" she informs us. And, deep in the recesses of our sports knowledge, we know she's right.
As the next skater takes the ice, we are in desperate need of nourishment. Eschewing courtesy, we all leave the box and find a food/beer stand. Rafe and Rhonda win the Roshambo, Phil pays for everything, and we're back in the box just in time for the second quarter. Roman's still in first place, so the Canadian guy we missed must have really stunk it up.
Beer in hand, food in stomach, we settle in for some action. The free skate, a 4 min 30 sec program, is the skater's chance to really express himself. The jumps, of course, provide much of the excitement, and betting on whether or not a skater can go "ass-free" for a program, is even more exciting.
"Hey Rafe, I'll bet you this next guy ends up on his butt during the first three jumps in his program," Phil offers. Rafe, in the first of what would be an incredible streak of thirteen bad bets, takes. The program starts, and someone from somewhere goes up for a backward triple something, lands it cleanly, but then goes for the additional double something and smacks hard to the ground. Cha-ching for Phil!
After his program, we were surprised by the marks. And, in an inspired moment, Phil suggests we bet on the "average" for Technical merit and for "Performance." We negotiate to take the average of the highest and lowest score, with Rafe setting the line, and Phil guessing over/under. For the first guy, Rafe set the line WAY too high.
"5.0 for a guy with a double cheek touchdown?" Phil taunts? "Um, I'll take the under." "4.8 for a guy who's costume looked like a reject from That 70's Show? I'll take the under." 4.4 and 4.6 were generous, as was Rafe.
Most of this nonsense is being absorbed reluctantly from the other people in the box. The kids are big fans of Michael Weiss, the American skater who lives in their Grandma's best friend's building and who they once saw at the grocery store. Fair enough. Every once in awhile, we hear a chuckle from their mom when we make an absurdly stupid figure skating generalization, or betting line. Needless to say, they could have made a fortune had they been interested in taking advantage of us, the rookie figure skating bookies.
After a few more beers and a few more terrible picks and lines from Rafe, we jacked up the action a bit. Rafe, normally a good oddsmaker, was steaming, and by half time, Rhonda encouraged Phil to take advantage of his self-admitted "ice skating leak."
The fifteen minute halftime provided opportunity, for, you guessed it, more beer. During the intermission, the ladies in the box asked us all kinds of questions about our tour. Then they went to get ice cream. A few minutes later, they were back, with no treat. "Line's too long," they said.
Sensing a way to make some money for the charity, Phil offered to stand in line to get whatever they wanted for as little as $2 donation per person. They quickly piled on, and just after the 13th skater of the evening started, Phil returned with ice cream for all and made $6 for charity. Fortunately, this move was the big ice-breaker (so to speak), and very soon, the ladies were all collaborating and commenting on every single line we made.
As the last quarter started and the six top skaters took the ice for the warmup, the arena's vibe completely changed. The other skaters, we all knew, were not in the same league with these guys. We watched their warm up, Rafe set a 20-1 line on a warm-up collision (lost), and took the opportunity to get yet another beer.
The second skater of the set was American Timothy Goebel. You know him, he's the blonde guy with curly hair, very emotional, known as the Quad King for his ability to hit quadruple something or others. Well, he skated magnificently, the first clean program of the competition. His marks, 5.7 to 5.9 for technical merit and 5.8 to 5.9 for presentation, placed him clearly in first place. The crowd went wild.
Next up, the vaunted Russian, Evgeni Plushenko, the pre-event favorite and Olympic Gold medallist. He started off quite well, with a triple-double-double jump combination, and skated an almost (but not quite) clean program. A hush fell over the crowd, cameras focused on the expectant skater and his equally expectant competitor Timothy. We thought Plushenko was a clear silver medallist. Chants of "USA" started which turned into boos when the marks were announced. Evgeni had upset Timothy and claimed first place.
We booed along with the crowd. Though we are both proud Americans, we were probably among the least partial members of the crowd for the following reasons: (a) we were the least knowledgeable in terms of knowing who is "supposed to" skate well and who is not, and (b) we had our own money on the line for each skater and had incentive to be as accurate as possible in judging or risk losing our shirts. One explanation that was given for inconsistent marks (which makes a certain amount of sense) is that the earlier competitors are judged lower on average so as to make room for higher marks to distinguish the better programs later on. Since the scores are all relative, this should not be a problem. But even accounting for this practice, there seemed to be a bias towards higher-than-deserved marks for the skaters with past achievements. Here's a sample of the scores for technical merit for Frenchman, Brian Joubert:
It seems hard to believe that the judge who gave 5.0 was watching the same event as the one who gave 5.7. But sadly, this discrepancy is bound to perpetuate because all judging is by secret ballot. As technologists, we thought it would be fun to write a computer program to judge the judges. Any judge who consistently gives marks below or above the average could be disqualified from competition, or sent down to the minors until they improve their impartiality and accuracy. This could easily be done without compromising the benefits of the secret ballot.
OK, enough railing from the railing. We head out of the MCI Center and cab it out to Adams Morgan to meet up with our friend, James, who is putting in some time in DC between working/traveling in Spain and going to biz school. In the short time that he's been in DC he has the town wired.
James was hosting a weekly party at a bar called Souci. We were all over it, and very soon after our arrival, Rafe is talking to some of James' friends, who just happen to all be cute, smart French students of finance and foreign policy. The crowd and vibe were very international, which was a good change of pace for us, having been immersed solely in Americana since the beginning of the trip. After some white-boys-with-no-hips-or-rhythm Salsa dancing and socializing, it's off to the RV for a well-deserved night of sleep filled with dreams of aborted triple toe loops and under rotated double axels.
More skating! For the Women's finals, our plan was pretty simple: meet James, Sara, Elisa and Marjorie at Fado, wait for the skating to start and pick up some cheap tickets. Having practiced on Thursday we executed a clean routine. Surely Carl the ticket guru would have given us high marks for artistic merit. Technical was lacking though, since we failed to account for the increased popularity of this event. Still $20 per ticket for $70 face value seemed like a win, even if they were in the nosebleeds.
We arrive inside just in time for the second quarter, find great seats in the lower level and try to explain to the girls why we're sitting in a section that is lower than the one our tickets say. "We're professionals", we say, "don't worry."
A few skaters after we get settled, Sarah Meier from Switzerland takes the ice. She does a fairly uninspired program, but she's cute enough to earn the first of the three USA T-Shirts that we brought with us for the occasion. Rafe stands up and tosses it out on the ice at the end of her program, and quickly, the "flower girls" skate over and scoop it up. Sarah, if you got the shirt, looked up the web site and are reading this, please email us!
By half time, the people that paid $200 for each of our seats showed up. We moved, of course, assuring our dates that it was all OK and that we would not be thrown in jail. We headed up to our real seats and settled in for more action. Like Thursday night, there were bets on just about everything figure skating -- number of falls, hand touches, over/under, etc. James and Sara, who had called in running late, arrive at this point, very excited about getting in for free by hitting up some people who had to leave the event early.
The American trio, Sasha Cohen, Michelle Kwan, and Sarah Hughes were the crowd favorites, of course. Phil was duped into taking Sasha, only to find out a few minutes later that she had a reputation for not skating clean in big competitions. Nice pick. Cohen, with very vocal crowd support, managed a decent performance but had to settle for one ass-plant on a seemingly easy one-leg-up-perpendicular-death-spin. America's hopes rested on the shoulders of favorite Michelle Kwan.
We decided that we needed to give Michelle a USA T-shirt, so we left our group in the upper deck and heading down to the ice. Watching her program from the aisle, we were absolutely mesmerized. The crowd went crazy as Michelle skated an absolutely inspired, flawless, high-energy program. When her scores were announced, pandemonium broke out. 5.9's and 6.0's. Now that is skating! Lucky for us, the excitement of the moment made the usher lose concentration. We rushed the aisle and Rafe threw a USA shirt out onto the ice. It took about five minutes for the ice to be cleared and the pandemonium to die down enough to finish out the competition. It was Kwan's night though, and she couldn't be caught.
Rejoining the our friends for the awards ceremony, we say au revoir and eventually take off and head back to the RV. We are walking down the street when Elisa comes running back to Rafe, gives him a kiss (French kiss?) "Just like in the movies. I wanted to thank you for a great time. I hope I see you again." How adorable and a very fitting end to a fun time in Washington.
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