I'm a Sport

Once upon a time, I was quite sporty.

Athletic, even.

And now, after a 30-minute workout video, I can hardly move.

Sitting down was hard today.

Getting up was even worse.

Muscles I didn't even know I had hurt.

My hair may even be sore.

I hate you, Jillian Michaels.

It almost hurts to type.

With summer on its way, I know cognitively I should be exercising to rid my body of the layer of fat (layers?) that have accumulated through the last six months (nine?).

But I just have to be honest.

I HATE working out.

Does that make you cringe? Feel pity for my aging body? Think of me differently?

Yes, there were these days when I exercised religiously every day for 3 hours to achieve near-State-champion greatness:


I'm #30, the one usually in the back with a grosgrain ribbon-tied ponytail, for those of you that weren't there to witness the madness that was the Lady Blue Devils.

For you, especially, I will tell you that the days of my high school basketball career were some of the best. I walked on to a team, as a very tall, quite skinny freshman, that was bad. Really bad. Something like 2-12 bad. I have no idea how bad exactly, but bad.

I know what you're thinking. It was GIRLS BASKETBALL. Of course it was bad.

You'd be wrong.

I was 6' tall and lanky. "Weak as water," as my coach would say, replete with his southern twang and tweedy jacket. But, he saw promise. Potential. I proceeded to start as a freshman, and then every game thereafter. Eventually I would go on to be quite a defensive player with a good run at the region's record for most blocks. I never was strong, but I was a team player and a Merit Player for my good attitude, stamina and ability to, well, block their team of shorties.

The best part, at the beginning, was the varsity gear. The slicky track suits that we got to wear on game day, embarrassingly modeled below.


The separate outfits that we got to wear while warming up, pre-game, to the tunes of "Whoomp There it Is" and the like.

I could have been happy just with that. But, then there was the camaraderie. The joy of being on a team. The thrill of winning, and decorating our coach's front lawn with toilet paper and spirited signage. The dance parties (with our coach and his fabulous comb-over-do and effervescent cologne) in our tiny, yet colorful locker room, exhibited below, with our regional championship trophy.




And winning like mad.

We went from 2-12 or whatever to winning the subregions my junior year. And then winning the regions that same year. And then going on to have a record-breaking senior year. Selling out the gymnasium, bringing in even more fans than the boys team, who "supposedly" were the headliners after our games, but who didn't draw half the crowd we did.

We went all over the state of Georgia, knocking down opponents in all corners of the AAAA division. We had fun. We won games. Kids got scholarships. And we all were toned, in shape and fast.

Aaaaaannnnnndddd.

Then time caught up with us.

And now, here I am, 15 years later, hurting after one stupid 30-minute workout video showed me who's boss.

Needless to say, I miss the days when a 3-hour practice was routine, running suicides was just an appetizer before the team pasta dinner, a bus ride meant you were on to something great, and each Friday meant you were a star member of the winning team and cheerleaders decorated your locker and brought you cookie cakes that said things like, "Kick Cass" to rile you up for that night's game.

We had a good run. We learned the meaning of teamwork. We went the distance together. We achieved greatness, going something like 13-1. Lost a crucial one in the last seconds of the overtime buzzer, but we had the crowd on our side. Ended up #8 in the entire state of Georgia, in a very competitive division of girls' high school basketball.


And today I'll drink a toast to that.

From my sofa, in the fetal position.

Damn you Jillian Michaels.

If only you said things like Coach Teague used to say, in his thick and loud southern twang, "Y'all don't know whether to wind your butt or scratch your watch" or "You couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat" or "You girls make chickens with their heads cut off look organized," at least I would feel at home. I would understand that the pain was all worth it.

Even if I didn't know what half those phrases meant.

Billboard Bears

In light of the excellent time of year we're currently enjoying...

WHAT? You don't like Fall?

Fall gives us so many great things. Leaves changing, brisk temperatures, caramel apples, new coats, hot cider, pumpkin patches, leather gloves, Halloween parties, apple and cinnamon candles, the MLB playoffs, tall boots, hay rides, chilly nights for sleeping, down comforters, cute scarves, back-to-school sales, Charlie Brown, candy corn, holiday planning and...

Football.

Whether you're more of a rowdy and loyal college football fan or a spirited and brave NFL fan, this time of year is rich with opportunity. Gridiron is upon us, people, and the getting is good.

Speaking of, I saw the best billboard I've seen in a while. That says a lot coming from a girl with an advertising degree and a paycheck from one of the world's largest agencies.

It was on my bus shelter, rotating in and out for the last few weeks. Featuring two of the Chicago Bears players, it said, "If you're not a fan, you're a tourist."

Clever. Witty. To the point.

There. Sometimes, the long story IS short.

Next Up, Skydiving

This may come as a surprise, but I'm an extreme sport athlete.

Don't believe me?

Have you ever tried to ride the 135 bus home wearing stiletto boots?

That were slippery from the ice packed around the bus shelter?

Were you there when the driver took the Oak Street curve going upwards of 50 mph?

Hanging on to the bar with one gloved hand?

While reading a book?

That you couldn't put down?

Wishing you could sit?

Knowing that sooner or later you would end up in someone's lap?

That is extreme...

Lest you still disbelieve my extreme sport skills, I give you this:


Me. Surmounting the crest. In 14" of snow. Wearing snow shoes. Winded, smiling, triumphant. At the top. Completing the journey.

(Of the 3rd hole on the Waveland Park golf course.)

Ok. I am not that extreme. But, I may have to take extreme measures.

I am considering investing in cleats for my bus ride home.

Why the Cleats, Lou?

Heads up—shortest post ever. For me, that is. I promise! It is earth-shatteringly short.

Just an observation, really.

Why is it that in Major League Baseball, the managers wear the same uniforms as the players? Think hard. It is the only professional sport where that exists. I know that in the old days, there was often a player/manager, so he needed to be dressed for play, but that is not the case now.

Can you picture the NBA coaches not wearing their traditional suits or tie and sport coat, and instead wearing silky uniforms and breakaway cover-up pants? Hilarious.

Could you imagine the NFL coaches sporting tight pants, pads, cleats, a jersey and a helmet? Would give play-calling a whole new meaning. And, it would make wearing that Motorola headset a little difficult.

It seems clear to me that the Cubs manager Lou Piniella could avoid the baseball pants, knee-high socks and cleats. Don't think he's going to make it onto the playing field anytime soon. It breaks me into giggles picturing him rounding the bases.

Though, on second thought, the Cubs could use the help?

Holy Cow!

Holy cow, what a week.

Crazy politics, a wild ride on the markets, an absolutely terrible weekend for the Bulldog Nation (and Gator/Badger/Trojan Nations, respectively) resulting in a shakeup in the Top 25 polls, and the White Sox may join the Cubs in the playoffs if tonight's tie-breaker game goes well.

And it's only Tuesday.

Since sports seem to dominate the news (immediately following the news that matters, you know, like to our wallets, our health and our nation's reputation), I decided that we must be doing okay.

If we still can find the extra cash, reserves of passion and boosts of energy it requires to be a sports fan, even in these trying times, then I believe (naively, stubbornly) that we are still alright as a nation.

If we can still dress up like this:








and hang on to some shred of hope that this year will be different, then we must still have heart. And, heart is what it takes to be a sports fan these days.

Especially when your team goes into the season ranked #1 and falls in week 5 to a conference opponent in a decidedly ugly game.

Especially when the "voice of football" in your head retires and it just doesn't seem quite right without him up in the box.

Especially when your city has two teams that may make it to the playoffs, and you're curious what will happen to the city when the north/south side rivalry really heats up in a head-to-head battle across 3 miles of urban terrain.

Especially when you watch your team, with its sorry quarterback and supposedly dominant defense, give up two games in a row in the fourth quarter (or overtime) and you have to hang your head in shame, again.

Especially when your team hasn't won the world series in 100 years and it would just be so nice not to be famous for blowing it.

It is tough to be a sports fan these days.

Call us stubborn. Call us ignorant. Call us in denial. Call us losers. Call us ridiculous. Call us overrated. Call us against the odds. Call us down-and-out.

I'm still game. We believe.

Go Dawgs! Go Cubs! Go Bears! Okay, fine. Go Sox!

Flip Flops and Goose Down?

In light of the changing seasons, I figured I'd take this opportunity to note a few things that have been on my mind.

It's that time of year when...

...people don't know how to dress, so you see some of everything. I passed a woman today in a sundress who was immediately followed by a man in a fleece coat and scarf.

...the allergies are fired up, and you hear people sniffling and sneezing all the way down the hall. Tis a good time to bring antibacterial gel on the CTA bus.

...it isn't warm, and it isn't cold, and it feels just right. Do I sound like Goldilocks? Well, I am.

...clients begin to panic because they haven't met their goals for the year, or they've spent all the money, or the didn't get the budget that they thought they would, and it is not that long until 2009, despite how far away that sounds.

...college football fans flock to the varied sports bars, dive bars and hole-in-the-wall bars to cheer on their favorite team. Alma mater be damned, sometimes you just want to cheer for the underdog. And, sometimes you are pitted against your friends. All in the name of a BCS championship.

...the retail market begins to glitter with the anticipation of all the holiday decor they have been waiting months to use. Well, at least since the last flags and other vestiges of July 4th came down. It is only a matter of time before there are pumpkins and witches and cauldrons everywhere, immediately followed by turkeys, only to be totally outdone by Santa and Christmas trees.

...it is much chillier in the morning and the evenings than it is in the middle of the day, making people dress in layers, strip off the top ones mid-day, only to redress before going home.

...the election coverage fills the broadcasts and the debates cause rifts between friends and family members across the good ole U.S. of A. I suppose we should be thankful that people are paying attention this year.

...the office buildings haven't yet adjusted to the changing temperatures, and are still pumping in the AC as if it were August 2nd. Which, incidentally, is almost always the hottest weekend of the year in Chicago, if my Lollapalooza experiences tell me anything.

...teachers finally have to go back to work, and they no longer bug you to go out for "just one drink" during the week because they've been so bored having to do nothing but read, shop and tan all day while you were at work.

...summer hours at the agency have come to an end and nothing feels longer than your first full 5-day work week after the Labor Day weeks go by. Counting down the hours until Friday.

...families begin to think about holiday travel, and my bank account goes into a near hyperventilative state in anticipation of all the plane tickets to buy.

...it would be wise to start making secret Christmas shopping lists, but that just seems way too organized. Unless the lists are gifts that I'd like to receive, since it is never to early to do that.

...you start thinking about your boyfriend's milestone birthday that is coming up and wondering how on earth you are going to surprise and/or excite the guy who isn't really looking forward to "getting old."

...you realize, quickly thereafter, that you also have a Q4 birthday and it is a tiny teeny smidge bit painful to admit what number you'll be checking on those pesky little doctor's office sign-in forms. This "early-thirties box" isn't all it is cracked up to be.

...the flowerpots and decorative landscaping on Michigan Avenue begin to transition from summery floral to late-year green, which will soon migrate into basic Christmas trees/winter pines/Northwoods greenery planters.

...the Cubs begin to lose and the entire North Side is still hopeful, silently praying, that the curse is broken and that this will still be our year. October just has to be ours!

...the Bears begin to play, and somehow manage to offer up a win against a top-tier team in the first week. Chicagoans know better than to count out a return to hibernation for the team.

...everything and everyone and every day is practically frozen in anticipation, fear and dread for what Old Man Winter will bring us this year. Chicagoans like to have the weather to complain about, granted, but seriously? We don't really need five straight months of snow and frigid wind to fill that blank void in our conversations. We'll figure out something else to discuss with strangers on the bus.

...Starbucks brings back the Pumpkin Spice Latte and their autumn color palette on the point-of-service materials, and somehow, that makes everything else seem okay.

It is really that time of year.

You Drive the Wagon, I'll Ride Shotgun

With the non-stop coverage of the Olympics on television, and the water cooler talk everywhere focused on Michael Phelps Mania, it is hard not to at least be sensitive to, or tuned into, the madness and excitement that is the Olympics in Beijing.

Two weeks ago 90% of the American population probably couldn't name two swimmers, and now the whole country is signing up for swim team and hankering to own a Speedo. My red, bleary eyes are a dead giveaway that I've been staying up way too late to catch the action.

A moment of reflection is due, however, for all of the other bandwagons I've willingly climbed up on, and the few I've deftly managed to avoid.

Bandwagons I've Joined:

College Football - This is not one I'm ashamed of. Despite not having grown up a Dawgs fan (my parents weren't southern, and I only got turned onto it in high school), when you take one look at an SEC tailgate, with the Dawgs gear out in full glory, you fall instantly in love. I'm not apologizing for this one, and keep my Official Bandwagon Member Certification in my top drawer. Go Dawgs!

iPods - Embarrassingly, I still tote around the first generation iPod. It's vintage! And, it is by today's standards, enormous and weighs about 10 lbs. The battery won't hold a charge but it plays great if it is plugged into a dock or my car's adapter. And, what kind of commuter would I be without those clever little white earbud headphones?

The Cubs - I live 4 blocks from Wrigley Field and therefore it would be illegal not to like them, and all kidding aside, those Kosher hot dogs are just too damn delicious.

The Bears - Who doesn't like sitting outside in the wet snowy icy rain when it is 14 degrees outside? And talking smack about our own (lame) quarterback?

The Bulls - I tried. the games are pretty boring these days, and the United Center is just too hard to get home from. Raise your hand if you couldn't give a damn about a league of thugs who make too much money and act like idiots off the court? However, buy me a few $8 beers and spring for the ticket, and I'm in.

Gyms - Egad. I tried it for a few years here and realized that just paying the $60 monthly fee doesn't make you lose weight. If only. I'm pretty sure that my checkbook was the only thing getting any skinner during those long and torturous years of bandwagon-ness.

Sororities - I did it. So sue me. I also wore pearls and jean jackets, date party t-shirts and frat party sweatshirts. Forgive me for my sins, but it sure was one helluva way to meet people at a huge school. Sorority Rush was one giant sanctioned bandwagon, wasn't it?

Halloween - Despite looking hideous most years, I have dutifully concocted a silly costume and tromped all over town like an oversized (and overserved) child. It was much more fun than that a the time, but maybe that was the vodka talking?

Vintage Posters - You know the ones. Yes you do. Turn around in your living room and you'll likely see it, touting a wine or a European destination. They quickly became the rage in about 2000, and I have a huge one in my dining room. I love it, but it isn't that clever when everyone else has one, too.

Hair - Where do I begin? I permed it in elementary school (Lord help me). I teased and sprayed my bangs in middle school. I hot-rolled my hair every morning before high school, and wore it long because that's what the popular girls did. I got to college and in a pseudo-rebellious move, I cut it all off (oooh wasn't I brave?). Then, when I accidentally ended up with a mullet, I started growing it back out. then I moved to Chicago and realized I could use a shorter 'do to seem older in business meetings. Cut it to my chin. Then realized (and was told a former not-so-tactful colleague as much) that I looked better with it long. It's been long since. Should the trend swing back short, I sure hope I miss out. Because I'm clearly not ready (or in the station of life) for the Mom Haircut just yet.

Leather Pants - I think it is still too soon to discuss this one. I'm pretty emotionally scarred by the memories (and the photographic evidence), but at least I never had a Ross Gellar experience while wearing (or removing) them.

Politics - Not as much of a bandwagon-fan there, but inspired by what this election offers. Change is good, and needed, so I'm game. If the wagon makes young people vote, I'll drive.

Blackberry - I confess. Mine is not a Blackberry, but a Blackjack. Yet I'm addicted just the same.

Thongs - Yes. Underwear. I said it. And, I'm admitting it. I turned from a thong-hater, to a swears-by-it thong wearer. Too much information? I know. But, if you give the Hanky Panky brand a try, and can get a second mortgage to cover it, buy some. You'll thank me.

Oversized Shades - I feel a bit like Paris or Nicole, but in my huge sunglasses, I look cool.

Going Green - I recycle. Isn't that enough? No. I know. But I'm working on it. I have just been asked to participate in an interactive marketing program for the household brand method, so I'm gonna up my participation in the green movement. How globally conscious of me.

Facebook - Not afraid to announce that I love it. I'm not a creepy stalker, or a pedophile, or a mom with four gorgeous kids on display. Just your average user who likes to see how people are, who got married to whom, and where everyone lives. Ok, and stalk the occasional ex. Isn't that part of it?

Mac Revolution - Maybe "revolution" gives it too much credit, but I do love my Mac. And, I swear I'll never own a PC again. And the store? So fun and gadgety.

Harry Potter - While I wasn't the fan that was in the Border's Bookstore at midnight, I did read the first three or four, and actually was quite surprised at how much fun they were to read. Until I got publicly ridiculed by a mother to her six-year old on the bus one day for "reading a kid's book." I lost interest shortly thereafter. Coincidence?

Jewelry - Slap bracelets, jelly bracelets, chandelier earrings, chunky plastic necklaces, fake diamond studs, Swatch watches, braided ribbon barrettes, grosgrain ribbons in our hair, scarves in the summer, stone jewelry, turquoise jewelry, etc. I could keep going. I know that most of these are trends in fashion (brief, painful and fleeting) but they seem like a bandwagon at the time. I couldn't swing a cat outside on Michigan Avenue right now without knocking over at least a dozen sporting the latest jewelry or fashion bandwagons.

Weddings & Babies - I fully admit this isn't a bandwagon, but given the number of bridal showers, bachelorette parties, weddings, engagement parties and baby showers I've been to, and the sheer volume of announcements and invitations littering my stainless steel fridge, I'd have to say that something's in the water. I'm going thirsty for now.

Stainless Steel Appliances - Didn't occur to me until I wrote the above, but its true. I'm a convert and cringe a little when I think of the pre-renovation brown fridge and pink stove. Shudder.

Chicago - You'd think I was the president of the tourism office here, I love this place so much. I think that is a healthy addiction, no? I am pretty sure the city loves me back. Besides those few parking tickets...

Blogging - This one is clear. But you're here, aren't you? And still having fun? I'm good enough, smart enough and funny enough? And, gosh darnit, people like me? (Maybe add a comment here just to confirm my suspicions that someone other than my mom, sister and Jenny are reading me daily).


Bandwagons I've Avoided:

Footwear - Those Greek lace-up sandals look painful, cowboy boots and skirts just look ridiculous. Oh, and if you live in L.A.? UGGs aren't for you. Personally, I always thought they were hideous (and sortof still do), but then I tried on my friend Brenna's and dear God in heaven I have to own some. At least the weather here warrants the ugliness.

Jeans - Let's call a spade a spade. Those high-waisted things are atrocious - don't those girls own a mirror? I don't need anything accentuating my girl-pooch, or drawing attention to my crotch.

Alternative Medicine - Short of a pleasant massage, I've never been treated in anything resembling Eastern Medicine. I've not tried cupping (too vain), herbal supplements (too cheap), chiropractic care (too skeptical), acupuncture (too afraid) or those God-awful fish that eat the dead human flesh on your feet (too disgusted).

Tattoos - We've already covered how this is not my thing. I'm just ever so glad that I was strong enough not to cave in high school.

Belly button piercings - Short of almost getting dragged into it in Amsterdam (I blame Mandi and the 12 beers), I didn't succumb to the pressure. My stomach is so glad - I'd probably have to dig it out and have it surgically removed from the gentle rolls I'm gathering down there now, and that's not sexy one bit.

Hybrids - Mostly because I'm fond of my Jeep Liberty, and far too lazy to sell the thing. It's possible that I'll convert after this one is paid off, or when gas prices go to $10 a gallon. At that point I'll have no choice. (I do have a bike in case you're wondering, but I'm far too wimpy to bike to work).

What other bandwagons have you jumped aboard, or deftly avoided? That's all I can think of.

Maybe I'm a joiner, not a rebel?

I know, I know. Hide your surprise.

Stirs the Soul

In honor of the Olympics starting today in China, I want to share this video. Gives you goosebumps, doesn't it?



“MAKE NO SMALL PLANS”

This is a city that reversed the flow of a river. A city that rose from the Great Fire of 1871. A city that works, but also a city that plays…with world-class festivals, museums, sports teams and more.

Chicago has always been associated with fire.

This time, it would be at the end of an Olympic torch…

Could Also Be Signs I'm Crazy?

In honor of tonight's NCAA Championship game, here are the Top 10 Reasons Why I Like College Sports:

10. You can root for your team whether they are any good or not. People expect it of you, and I hate to let people down.

9. You can go to a crowded bar, and instantly have new friends (to con a chair from) just because you're pulling for the same team. Works like a charm.

8. You can road trip to various campuses and use it as an excuse to tell your own college stories that begin with, "yeah, this is cool, but when I was in college, we..."

7. You can holler, hoot, swear, moan, laugh, scream, cry and yell—all within the span of 3 hours. Therapy can't even touch that kind of cathartic release.

6. You can wear a sweatshirt, ponytail and tennis shoes to a bar and not be underdressed or overlooked.

5. You can win money against your friends in sideline bets, such as how many dribbles each team will take down the court in said number of minutes. Or how many cheerleaders will have fake boobs. You decide.

4. You can make nice with the cute guy/hot girl/loser/jerk/boss in your office just by asking about how their team is doing in the tournament while at the water cooler.

3. You can officially be a fan of a grown man dressed in a sweaty furry animal suit, convulsing and doing the macarena on national television, without anyone raising an eyebrow.

2. You can automatically have plans on a boring Saturday without even trying..."come on, there's a game on!" works every time.

1. You can drink during the day without prompting someone to slip you an AA brochure. Enough said.

Go Jayhawks!*

*Not my alma mater, but I'm a team player. And, I know enough KU grads here in Chicago to watch what I say. Yes, that means you, Brenna.

Childlike Behavior

I am a firm believer in acting like a kid. Not all the time, mind you, but on rare occasion I consider it a very healthy thing to do—let loose, laugh a lot and just behave in a silly way.

It is quite freeing, I tell you.

Last night was a prime example of letting go, whooping it up, and relishing the little things. Brett and I declared last night to be Dave & Busters Olympics 2008. He had a pre-loaded game card from a past work outing, and we were ready to go. After fueling up on fried foods and a bottled beer (not all activities were childlike), we were ready to go.

During dinner we plotted out the game plan. Two ribbons were at stake: FIRST Place, and LAST Place. First place warranted the tagline "Total Domination," while Last place was left with "The Low Moe."

Five key events were chosen: Skeeball, Pop-a-shot, Gunslinger, Daytona 500 Racing and Nothing But Net. Other random sideline events were declared to be warm-ups or time-fillers during NBC's television time-outs: Colorama (roulette-like game), Jump Around (e-jumprope), Spin-o-Matic (wheel of fortune) and Motorcross Bike Racing.

As the athletes prepared for competition, the trash talking began. I was confident that Skeeball would be my stealth killer, and Brett felt sure of his Pop-o-Shot abilities.

NBC and ESPN are reporting the following results on the sports ticker this morning:

Skeeball
Highlights: Brett dominated early, and Colleen came back in the second half with lots of balls flying into the 100 cup.
Athletes' Reactions: "Was it always this hard?"
Outcome: Colleen can roll ugly brown balls better. Colleen wins!

Gunslinger
Highlights: Colleen spent half her time figuring out how to hold the rifle, and Brett took command and the Western Saloon was his. He scored 10 times more points than Colleen, but didn't cheer quite as loudly as she did when she finally hit the beer bottle target.
Athletes' Reactions: "You suck at this. Close the OTHER eye!"
Outcome: Brett is the meanest man in the West. Brett wins!

Television Time Out—athletes are seen spinning a giant Spin-o-Matic and yelling "big money, no whammys" at the machine. Both hit it big, and the tickets started spewing out of the machine. Childlike celebrations abound.

Daytona 500 Racing
Highlights: Brett, in his lean blue racing model, led for 497 of the 500 laps, only wrecking and rolling once. Colleen survived six nasty crashes, and finally learned how to measurably slow at the curves.
Athletes' Reactions: "There's a brake?!"
Outcome: Colleen made her southern roots proud, coming back in last 3 laps. Colleen wins!

Pop-a-Shot
Highlights: Colleen, getting serious, puts up a ponytail. Brett smiles knowingly as he spins his miniature basketball. Games were close, often only separating the pack by 1 basket. Balls kept bouncing to other courts, but the athletes couldn't be bothered.
Athletes' Reactions: "What the $#*@^? I used to be good at this game!"
Outcome: I am afraid Colleen might get in trouble for parading her win on this one, so it will go subtly stated. She dominated.

Television Time Out—athletes are seen failing miserably at the Electronic Jumprope game. Both are embarrassed and walk away in shame (towards the bar), declaring that "the dumbest game ever."

Nothing But Net
Highlights: Colleen swishes her first shot, and then proceeds to airball more than her fair share. Brett gets warmed up, and his form was just as good as his glory days in high school. (This is the giant basketball hoop, and it just seemed SO far away and SO high to Colleen).
Athletes' Reactions: "How do I keep completely missing the basket? And, why am I starting to sweat?!"
Outcome: Brett never let go of his lead, scoring on average 16 more points than Colleen. Brett wins!

Motorcross Bike Racing
Highlights: Colleen and Brett choose the Chicago cityscape as the background for their course. Athletes competed in separate events against foreign competitors. Colleen crashed her bike into the El tracks, Buckingham Fountain, the walls on Lake Shore Drive, and took out an entire al fresco cafe on State Street. Brett managed to figure out how to pop wheelies, and proceeded to showboat through the entire downtown, but didn't measure his speed that well on Lower Wacker Drive. Both athletes were extremely impressed with the graphic surrounds, and can blame that as the distracting factor for poor performance.
Athletes' Reactions: "Do we really have to mount and straddle this thing?"
Outcome: Colleen came in 5th in her heat, and Brett rose to 4th in his. Lousy performances, and no medals were awarded, but Brett wins!

Television Time Out—athletes are seen putting their last D&B points down on Yellow at the Colorama machine. Similar to roulette, this game teaches kids that for a truly big payout, you must forgo the sports and just gamble. Athletes win big when the blue ball lands on Yellow, and the machine spits out 150 tickets. Athletes shout in excitement!

Athletes were able to cash in their money for something better than gold and silver medals...CRAPPY FAIR PRIZES! The pair settled on a Chicago Bears mini-football, a Dave & Busters shot glass, and an orange rubber snake. Just to taunt Colleen with.

At the end of the competition, it appears that it was a close series of events, but ultimately, Bob Costas declared Brett the winner of the overall Dave & Busters Olympics. Hanging her head in shame, Colleen accepts defeat like a 10-year old, and threatend to "take her ball and go home."