SOON TO BE HANGING OUT WITH THE RALLY MONKEY INTERN AND ROBIN FICKER: I know nothing about NBA basketball, except that the Golden State Warriors are very very bad at it. So bad that Paul Wong, the fellow from whom the team lifted their 2006-07 playoff slogan ("We Believe"), has announced he's given up on the team. Apparently, he's unhappy that the team hasn't given him enough recognition for his efforts.
Now, when a fan or low level staffer comes up with something clever, does a team owe them anything? Golden State is terrible with fan relations, but Mr Wong appears to have been more than well-compensated: a trip to Utah for the 2007 second-round games, this level of fame, the love of his fellow fans. Teams aren't going to give these guys a cut of the house's take, of course, but do teams ever get this right?
Friday, May 29, 2009
CHOPSTICKS! F.A.O. Schwarz has been bought by Toys R Us. I try to go to the FAO flagship a couple of times a year, especially in the holiday season--not to buy anything, but for the experience of it (which might be part of the problem for them). FAO has a tricky business model, especially in the current economic climate--it's never going to be able to compete with the big boys on pricing (though the acquisition will help on that point), so has to offer something different and better--things like the "Create Your Own Muppet Toy," "Custom Barbie," "Custom Hot Wheels," and the like are helpful, but they don't get there. I hope TRU is able to help FAO find a substainable business model as well as preserve the magic the brand has.
FROM BEAUTIFUL BURBANK: Tonight marks the end of the run of The Tonight Show With Jay Leno, with lead guest Conan O'Brien. It's interesting, because when Carson left the show, there was huge hype for it, while this time, I've seen almost nothing for "Jay's Final Show" and tons of ads for "Try Conan!" In part, this is, of course, a function of that unlike Carson, Jay (unfortunately) won't be fading from view after this, with his 10 PM show on NBC premiering in the fall. In part, it's also that despite having occupied the most famous and powerful desk in late night for 17 years, there's nothing terribly memorable about the run. The only things I can think of off the top of my head are Hugh Grant's "sorry about that!" appearance after the Divine Brown Incident, and the incredibly hackneyed comedy bits (Jaywalking! Headlines!). Do you have memories (fond or unfond) of Jay? And are you ready for Conan, Andy Richter, and Max Weinberg and the Tonight Show Band to take the seats once occupied by Carson, Ed McMahon, and Doc Severinsen?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
KAVYA SHIVASHANKAR FTW! Thanks to everyone who made our liveblog such an enjoyable experience, but especially to our new friend Cat Cojocaru, who made the quick transition from 2008 primetime Bee finalist (and a beloved one at that) to 2009 primetime commentator with our crew. We're honored to share the following essay, which she wrote following last year's finals:
* * * The 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee was the most amazing week of my life. I had participated in the bee in 2007, but I had been eliminated in the fourth round. I took the online preliminary test, and I was nervous. I knew most of the words, but I wasn’t sure if I would pass or not. I guessed it was all up to the word I got on Thursday. Thursday came, and I was the very last speller of the first group in the oral round of the Preliminaries. After waiting for almost two hours, I held my breath and stepped up to the mike. Dr. Bailly greeted me, and then presented me with the word philistine. I knew I had heard of it before, but I was unsure of one letter. After prying for information, he informed me that there were six alternate pronunciations! The very last one helped me spell it. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Soon afterwards, I became nauseous and had a horrible headache. I couldn’t even make it down to the ballroom for the announcement of the quarterfinalists I felt so sick. My dad and brother went there for me to hear the results, and luckily, I passed! Round Three began with a word I knew, heliophobous, and was able to pick it apart by its Greek roots. Now Round Four, my personal hurdle was next. Smalto. Dr. Bailly enunciated. It was a type of Italian glass. I racked my knowledge of Italian. It sounds easy enough, I thought. I gave it a shot, and once Mrs. Brooks nodded, I squealed. I was going to be on ESPN!
The next day I was informed that my whole school system was going to watch the broadcast. I was glad for their support, but now I was even more worried. Round Five began, and the words were obviously much harder than in previous years. My turn came and I was faced with an unknown word sporangiophore. I gave it my best shot by figuring out the pieces of the word, and I was right!
In Round Six, I really had no idea how to spell redoppe. I asked every question I was allowed, and even one they couldn't answer. Are there any alternate words you can give me? That drew chuckles from the audience, but the clock was ticking and I knew I had to hurry. I thought of an embellished French spelling, and I was right!
At the end of Round Seven, there were sixteen of us left. I approached the microphone, shaking and praying under my breath. Anticum. I sighed. With the hot ballroom lights beating down on my face and the knowledge that thousands of people were watching me, I could hear the bell ringing already. It was Latin, and after using all but three seconds of my regular time, I gave the simplest spelling I could think of. After I repronounced the word, I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see the look on the judge's faces as I heard applause? I was floored. I got the word right?!? I walked back to my seat, still in shock. The round ended, and exactly twelve of us remained.
Round Eight was actually pretty easy. Boulangere – a French dish. Almost all the words were from the Consolidated Word List, which I had studied thoroughly. I wasn’t sure on my Round Nine word, Huguenot, but gave it my best guess, based on my study of French, and was right. I felt pretty good. In Round Ten I was faced by the obscure Russian word bogatyr. I had never studied Russian, so I spelled it bogateer. The dreaded ding echoed throughout the whole ballroom. I sighed when I heard the correct spelling, smiled at the thundering applause I got, and went to sit with my parents.
During the commercial break, I ran to the bathroom. As I began to cry, a speller I didn't even know gave me a hug and consoled me. But when I turned around to see who it was, they were gone. That brought me back to my senses. What was I doing here, feeling sorry for myself? I needed to go back in there and cheer on my friends! I wiped off my makeup, let my hair down, mustered up my courage, and went back to the competition.
The words got much harder after I was out. I couldn't believe how good the other spellers were! By the very late rounds, everyone was exhausted. After many standing ovations, tears, and even some laughs, winner Sameer held the trophy high. But the applause was for all of us. Saturday night was banquet night. Everyone was dressed in their best, and I felt great happiness as I sat on the dais, looking down at my loving, supportive family. The twelve of us were swarmed for autographs at the banquet. It was all so surreal; it took a while for me to understand that people actually wanted my autograph!
My experience at the National Spelling Bee has taught me many things. It taught me that winning isn't everything. It showed me that, with hard work, I can do better that I ever imagined. And lastly, that money and ranking aren't the most important things in this competition or in life….your friends and family are what matter most. That was the week I will never forget.
Soon afterwards, I became nauseous and had a horrible headache. I couldn’t even make it down to the ballroom for the announcement of the quarterfinalists I felt so sick. My dad and brother went there for me to hear the results, and luckily, I passed! Round Three began with a word I knew, heliophobous, and was able to pick it apart by its Greek roots. Now Round Four, my personal hurdle was next. Smalto. Dr. Bailly enunciated. It was a type of Italian glass. I racked my knowledge of Italian. It sounds easy enough, I thought. I gave it a shot, and once Mrs. Brooks nodded, I squealed. I was going to be on ESPN!
The next day I was informed that my whole school system was going to watch the broadcast. I was glad for their support, but now I was even more worried. Round Five began, and the words were obviously much harder than in previous years. My turn came and I was faced with an unknown word sporangiophore. I gave it my best shot by figuring out the pieces of the word, and I was right!
In Round Six, I really had no idea how to spell redoppe. I asked every question I was allowed, and even one they couldn't answer. Are there any alternate words you can give me? That drew chuckles from the audience, but the clock was ticking and I knew I had to hurry. I thought of an embellished French spelling, and I was right!
At the end of Round Seven, there were sixteen of us left. I approached the microphone, shaking and praying under my breath. Anticum. I sighed. With the hot ballroom lights beating down on my face and the knowledge that thousands of people were watching me, I could hear the bell ringing already. It was Latin, and after using all but three seconds of my regular time, I gave the simplest spelling I could think of. After I repronounced the word, I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see the look on the judge's faces as I heard applause? I was floored. I got the word right?!? I walked back to my seat, still in shock. The round ended, and exactly twelve of us remained.
Round Eight was actually pretty easy. Boulangere – a French dish. Almost all the words were from the Consolidated Word List, which I had studied thoroughly. I wasn’t sure on my Round Nine word, Huguenot, but gave it my best guess, based on my study of French, and was right. I felt pretty good. In Round Ten I was faced by the obscure Russian word bogatyr. I had never studied Russian, so I spelled it bogateer. The dreaded ding echoed throughout the whole ballroom. I sighed when I heard the correct spelling, smiled at the thundering applause I got, and went to sit with my parents.
During the commercial break, I ran to the bathroom. As I began to cry, a speller I didn't even know gave me a hug and consoled me. But when I turned around to see who it was, they were gone. That brought me back to my senses. What was I doing here, feeling sorry for myself? I needed to go back in there and cheer on my friends! I wiped off my makeup, let my hair down, mustered up my courage, and went back to the competition.
The words got much harder after I was out. I couldn't believe how good the other spellers were! By the very late rounds, everyone was exhausted. After many standing ovations, tears, and even some laughs, winner Sameer held the trophy high. But the applause was for all of us. Saturday night was banquet night. Everyone was dressed in their best, and I felt great happiness as I sat on the dais, looking down at my loving, supportive family. The twelve of us were swarmed for autographs at the banquet. It was all so surreal; it took a while for me to understand that people actually wanted my autograph!
My experience at the National Spelling Bee has taught me many things. It taught me that winning isn't everything. It showed me that, with hard work, I can do better that I ever imagined. And lastly, that money and ranking aren't the most important things in this competition or in life….your friends and family are what matter most. That was the week I will never forget.
THE THOUGHT OF SOMEONE KVETCHING ABOUT HER KICHEL GAVE MERYL THE SHPILKES: The WaPo's Dan Steinberg tracks the increased "humor" in the Could You Use That In A Sentence sentences.
Meanwhile, Bee Central has added a page featuring tonight's 11 finalists, including photos of all the spellers in action. Added! And Dan Steinberg spoke with them this afternoon, including:
Meanwhile, Bee Central has added a page featuring tonight's 11 finalists, including photos of all the spellers in action. Added! And Dan Steinberg spoke with them this afternoon, including:
All day I've been referring to Serena Skye Laine-Lobsinger as Bee Goes Punk, and she sort of was ok with that description.Finally, I do hope that some the 282 other finalists took advantage of the rare opportunity presented to them today by seeing Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian at the Smithsonian in IMAX format. From what I've heard, it's a lousy movie, but thumbs-up for the recursive experience. [That said, you can never go wrong with To Fly!.]
"I'm kind of adventurous with what I like to wear," the 13-year old from West Palm Beach told me. "I'll wear pretty much anything.
She's particularly fond of bandanas, was sporting some sparkled-out Chuck Taylors, and had four shades of nail polish on (black and white alternating on her right hand, and silver and pink on her left). So, punk?
"You probably could say that," she said. "That's probably how a lot of people look at me."
Just to make sure, I asked her what sort of music she listens to. The answer: alternative rock, techno, electronica, and "screamo," which has some roots in hardcore punk. Score.
I FEEL LIKE I'M HITTING MY STRIDE NOW: We first published this essay from our friend and Bee contributor Rafael Noboa two years ago. He's since gone on to complete his bachelor's degree, and works as a new media specialist for an international labor organization. But first, in 1991, there was the Bee, in which he finished in fourth place:
* * * I moved to the U.S. in 1985, from Puerto Rico; my first language wasn't English, it was Spanish. My family moved to New Haven, where I competed in my first spelling bee a year later (in Spanish). From New Haven, we moved to Granville, OH, where I ended up spending the rest of my childhood.
Anyway, I competed in bees all through middle school, but I never even won a classroom bee until my 8th-grade year. I won that one, then I won the school bee, then I won the Columbus Dispatch regional bee to punch a ticket to nationals. I guess I got on a streak.
I didn't really start preparing or practicing until I made it to nationals. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. I'd practiced like crazy all the other times, and it didn't work out, so I figured, why mess with success? When my dad and I started prepping for the bee, we didn't engage in rote memorization so much as we played with words, studied what they meant, learned where they came from. To this day, I think the reason I've got such a large vocabulary comes from the preparation that I engaged in in the spring of 1991.
I practiced about 2 hours a day, sometimes more, but not much more than that. Bee prep had to be squeezed in with my violin practice, and my parents actually took that more seriously. The attitude that my parents had was, if you practice spelling, that's great, and if you don't, that's on you.
This caused a rather sudden shock when I made it to DC. I distinctly remember that lots of my fellow spellers (and their parents!) were really, really, really intense about this. That intensity just weirded me out.
Now, this is 1991, so, to my memory, the bee just wasn't a big deal. I mean, it was a big deal to me, but it's nothing like what it is now. We were all in the ballroom of the Capital Hilton (don't know if that's where it still happens), but everyone wore their own clothes. You didn't have a uniform like you have now. I remember that I wore my "lucky" sweater (the one that I wore when I won in Columbus, and in school).
I don't remember there being a written test. I remember there were something like 100-150 of us, and the whole competition was spoken. There definitely weren't any international spellers --every speller was from either a state or a territory.
I wasn't nervous at all -- until the fourth round. I think the word I had was autochtonous, and I totally guessed on it. I steeled myself for the bell to ring, and when it didn't, I did a little fist pump. After that, I was fine, even when I misspelled my final word-- plutogoguery, which I spelled plutogogary. I knew how to spell it, too -- I was tired, and I wasn't concentrating. So the bell rang. I sighed, then I went to the reader's table and shook his hand. I remember there was a lot of applause. I headed to the kiss-and-cry room after that.
When I got there, I noticed that there were a lot of spellers crying, people yelling, that sort of thing. I didn't. I guess the overwhelming feeling I had was relief, because it was all over. I was sad, because I wanted to win -- I'm a really competitive person -- but my relief at finally being able to relax outweighed that sadness. My mom and dad and my sponsor met me there. They were all expecting me to be upset, so I shocked them when they saw that I wasn't. They kept on asking me if I was okay, and I kept on telling them that I was fine -- I gave it the best shot I could.
Afterwards, I went back out to the ballroom, and saw Joanne (the '91 champion) and the runner-up go toe-to-toe for like an hour. That's the only time I kicked myself, because that's when it really sunk in that I could've won.
And now?
Well, in a way, I'm glad I didn't win. I look at the profiles that Time did of the winners between '86 and '92 (congrats, Amanda!), and I look at what they've accomplished. Joanne is studing neo-natology. Amanda's a lawyer, as are others.
Me, I'm just now finishing my bachelor's. I went to school, dropped out, joined the Army, went to war in Iraq, and I'm working in politics, doing what I love. I feel like I've accomplished a lot in my life, but if I had won in '91, and Time had profiled me, I get the feeling that people would have said, "he peaked at age 14", when I don't feel that's the case at all. I feel like I'm hitting my stride now, at age 30.
As for the bee ... I'm glad I competed. I really don't keep in touch with anyone, except for a couple of folks. That's not by choice -- if I could, I would. I just don't have their contact information.
No one I work with, and none of my friends -- not even my ex-wife -- knows I competed in the bee. It's my little secret. I don't see it as germane to any conversation I have. People think I'm a good writer and have a big vocabulary because I read a lot (which I always have). I'm a good writer and I have an extensive vocabulary because I had a chance to go to the bee, and I took advantage of it.
Anyway, I competed in bees all through middle school, but I never even won a classroom bee until my 8th-grade year. I won that one, then I won the school bee, then I won the Columbus Dispatch regional bee to punch a ticket to nationals. I guess I got on a streak.
I didn't really start preparing or practicing until I made it to nationals. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. I'd practiced like crazy all the other times, and it didn't work out, so I figured, why mess with success? When my dad and I started prepping for the bee, we didn't engage in rote memorization so much as we played with words, studied what they meant, learned where they came from. To this day, I think the reason I've got such a large vocabulary comes from the preparation that I engaged in in the spring of 1991.
I practiced about 2 hours a day, sometimes more, but not much more than that. Bee prep had to be squeezed in with my violin practice, and my parents actually took that more seriously. The attitude that my parents had was, if you practice spelling, that's great, and if you don't, that's on you.
This caused a rather sudden shock when I made it to DC. I distinctly remember that lots of my fellow spellers (and their parents!) were really, really, really intense about this. That intensity just weirded me out.
Now, this is 1991, so, to my memory, the bee just wasn't a big deal. I mean, it was a big deal to me, but it's nothing like what it is now. We were all in the ballroom of the Capital Hilton (don't know if that's where it still happens), but everyone wore their own clothes. You didn't have a uniform like you have now. I remember that I wore my "lucky" sweater (the one that I wore when I won in Columbus, and in school).
I don't remember there being a written test. I remember there were something like 100-150 of us, and the whole competition was spoken. There definitely weren't any international spellers --every speller was from either a state or a territory.
I wasn't nervous at all -- until the fourth round. I think the word I had was autochtonous, and I totally guessed on it. I steeled myself for the bell to ring, and when it didn't, I did a little fist pump. After that, I was fine, even when I misspelled my final word-- plutogoguery, which I spelled plutogogary. I knew how to spell it, too -- I was tired, and I wasn't concentrating. So the bell rang. I sighed, then I went to the reader's table and shook his hand. I remember there was a lot of applause. I headed to the kiss-and-cry room after that.
When I got there, I noticed that there were a lot of spellers crying, people yelling, that sort of thing. I didn't. I guess the overwhelming feeling I had was relief, because it was all over. I was sad, because I wanted to win -- I'm a really competitive person -- but my relief at finally being able to relax outweighed that sadness. My mom and dad and my sponsor met me there. They were all expecting me to be upset, so I shocked them when they saw that I wasn't. They kept on asking me if I was okay, and I kept on telling them that I was fine -- I gave it the best shot I could.
Afterwards, I went back out to the ballroom, and saw Joanne (the '91 champion) and the runner-up go toe-to-toe for like an hour. That's the only time I kicked myself, because that's when it really sunk in that I could've won.
And now?
Well, in a way, I'm glad I didn't win. I look at the profiles that Time did of the winners between '86 and '92 (congrats, Amanda!), and I look at what they've accomplished. Joanne is studing neo-natology. Amanda's a lawyer, as are others.
Me, I'm just now finishing my bachelor's. I went to school, dropped out, joined the Army, went to war in Iraq, and I'm working in politics, doing what I love. I feel like I've accomplished a lot in my life, but if I had won in '91, and Time had profiled me, I get the feeling that people would have said, "he peaked at age 14", when I don't feel that's the case at all. I feel like I'm hitting my stride now, at age 30.
As for the bee ... I'm glad I competed. I really don't keep in touch with anyone, except for a couple of folks. That's not by choice -- if I could, I would. I just don't have their contact information.
No one I work with, and none of my friends -- not even my ex-wife -- knows I competed in the bee. It's my little secret. I don't see it as germane to any conversation I have. People think I'm a good writer and have a big vocabulary because I read a lot (which I always have). I'm a good writer and I have an extensive vocabulary because I had a chance to go to the bee, and I took advantage of it.
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