![]() So I took Bruno Mars’ advice and decided to be lazy this past weekend which gave me the time to finally type up another blog. Since I had started the Spain Chronicles a few weeks back (well over a month ago but who is counting) I will take this opportunity to write up part dos of our trip to Spain. Today’s blog is all about the bullfight Charlie, Sherri, Brent and I attended and the subsequent trying to get the vision of it out of our head. Spain like most of Europe has only two sports, golf and soccer – well futbol in all places other than the US. There is Cricket which I know nothing about at all. A home run isn’t even called a home run – it’s called a “sixer” because you get six runs when one is hit. And a ground rule double is called a “four” or “boundary” because you get four runs for doing so. In the footnotes of this blog I will have to credit the all knowing Jeeves for my ever growing Cricket knowledge. The only other sport in Spain is bullfighting, but is bullfighting a sport or an activity for entertainment? I often question this about bowling and golf. My definition of an activity is can I play it equally well while having a beer or 3 and in the case of golf and bowling I actually play it better with a buzz on. Which I am sad to say under that definition makes NASCAR a sport. I might have to reevaluate my definition of an activity. The real reason that defines bullfighting as an activity is that you know who the winner will be. Which I guess that made going to Detroit Lions games a few years ago as going to an activity. Quick tangent here – the Lions made some great picks in the draft and if Matt Stafford can stay healthy they will be a team to be reckoned with in the ever increasingly competitive NFC North. That is if the owners and players figure out how to split $9 billion and play next season. Here are some quick facts about bullfighting in Spain. The season lasts from March to September with the peak of the season in June and July. Bullfighting has been banned in much of Spain but not in Madrid and Sevilla. There are 3 matches, I guess they are called matches and the bull always loses much like the Cubs which lead to the following facebook status and comment - I put my status as going to a bullfight and I was rooting for the bull, which lead to a comment by my friend David that said “I can tell you are a Cub fan.” The bullfight arena, El Plaza de Toros, is really cool looking from the outside. It is all brick with Spanish tiling with high towers and seats about 40,000 people. It is a very striking building when you first see it. The prices of the seats are broken into sun side and shade side with the sun side being half the price of the shade side and then broken out some more depending on how close you sit to the ring. Well we sat on the sun side, temps only in the low 60’s, and got seats in the first row. Little did we know what we were about to see from the first row. The seats in the arena are all benches like the bleachers at Wrigley Field which made me feel right at home. One of the issues of being in the first row is that you have to climb down into your seats and you have a row of benches directly behind which meant once in the seats you aren’t leaving, even if you are heaving (more on that in a bit.) See teach, period inside of the parenthesis. Inside running joke there. The best part of our bullfight experience was beer was only $3.00 a can. After that, it is all downhill. Since the weather forecast called for chilly temps and a chance of rain the arena was maybe 25% full - all on our side in the sun section. The matches start with a parade of the matadors, matador assistants and some dudes on horses. Oh yeah, and the ring hands which next to bathroom attendants don’t exactly have the greatest of jobs. There also was a 5 member band of merry men playing some very ominous music. Then some dude comes out with a sign that has info on the first bull, height and weight and birth date. What I did find strange was there was no public address announcer – none. And even if there was one it wouldn’t have helped since all the announcements would have been in Spanish anyway. And there was no national anthem sung before the matches. And to make matters worse, I had finished my beer and couldn’t get out of my seat to get another one. And to make matters doubly worse, Charlie spilled her ¾ full beer over the wall. Oh my, the horror of it all. Now it was bull time, I jokingly did my best Michael Buffer impersonation – which the guys next to me didn’t understand. They then open some doors and out comes the bull. This dude was one mean looking bull, not that there are many not so mean looking bulls. Just take a look at Joakim Noah – he is one funky looking Bull. Another tangent run here – back in early March my nephew Aaron and I drove to Miami from Lakeland, FL to see the Bulls play the Heat. This was during the time that the NBA was celebrating Latin Week so all the teams took on a Spanish theme nickname - which is a really neat thing for the NBA to do, only if they didn’t screw it up by just adding an “el” or “los” in front of the team name. So the Bulls became Los Bulls and the Heat became El Heat. How friggin dumb!!! How cool would a Bulls jersey be if it said “Toros” on it, not Los Bulls. Back to the bull fight which really isn’t much of a fight. The matador assistants stick the bull with spears with frilly stuff on them to add color to the event. The bull is also gorged with a large spear from one of the dudes on the horse. By the time the matador starts doing his ole’ing, the bull is pretty much subdued. But our bull had fight in him and didn’t go quietly into the night. The matador was doing his ole’ing and got knocked over by the bull. The bull then started going after the matador while he was on the ground. The matador assistants all came to the rescue of the matador and saved him from any injury. While the matador was on the ground and the bull looked as if he may win, the thought popped into my head that there may just be some hope for the Cubs yet. The fight ended like every other bull fight with the bull being put down. It was a lot more gruesome then I had imagined it would be and made us feel dirty that we actually paid to witness this, but strangely we would have felt like we had missed something about Spain if we didn’t go. Oh the quandary, right Harley. The saving grace to the day was that during the match it start to rain pretty hard which soaked Brent and I – note to people with umbrellas, they may keep you dry but the guys sitting on either side of you get soaked from the run off. After the match was over, the ring hands drag the bull around the ring which is supposed to honor the bull. Honor, schmonor – we had enough and used the fact that Brent and I were soaked to not stay for the next 2 matches. As we were waiting for the subway in the nearby Metro station (with a bunch of Americans who all were “too wet” to stay for the other matches) we started talking to this couple from America who were both visibly upset. The girl said she almost threw up on the people in front of her - which at that point I realized where the line “we ain’t leavin till we’re heavin” originated. Later in the week we all admitted that we were having issues getting the image of the bull fight out of our head, which I finally was able to do until now after typing up this blog. Thanks! So I guess that’s it for today since I have that image stamped in my brain again and can’t type anymore. Check back soon for part tres of the Spain Chronicles where your heroes took the speed train to Barcelona. So for now this is so long and good bye where I just thought of a good use for the bullfighting image – I will add it to the grandma and baseball image when needed at the “appropriate” time. Yep, I think I have something here – baseball, grandma, bullfighting…. 1 Comment Bobby D's Blog - Sports Traditions 04/18/2011
![]() The other night my sis Kim, niece Harley and I took in the Tampa Bay Lightning (Da Bolts) vs. the Pittsburgh Penguins playoff game in Pittsburgh. Harley is going to handle the blog from that game in the near future which is 14 year old speak for “get off my case Uncle B, I’ll get to it whenever.” When I was watching game 1 of the Bolt – Penguin series I noticed the entire crowd was in white. It is a Penguin tradition, as it is in other hockey cities, for the crowd to wear white. At game 2 which we attended, everyone wore white again (except us, we were in our Lightning jerseys). This got me thinking about how dumb this is and then I started to noodle on other dumb or not so dumb sports traditions or annoying and funny stuff. So without further ado (thanks Teach) I present to you the “not necessarily all of the dumb or not so dumb sports traditions as listed by Bobby D.” Umm – Bob, you said there was going to be a blog about Spain next. Come on, stop picking nits. Spain isn’t going anywhere and hopefully I’m not either so I will save that for next or next to next or next to next to next… The “white out” – I did some research on this really dumb and high def TV annoying tradition. It started with the Winnipeg Jets in the 80’s to intimidate the opposition during a playoff game. So those crazy Canadians said “eh, hoser, let’s wear white and freak out dem boys from the states tonight.” So the Pens adopted (stole) and market the white out, sell $14.95 official white out t-shirts and basically tell all their fans don’t wear your $200 official Pens sweater, wear this t-shirt instead. And the Pens fans do – amazing. The Terrible Towel – After writing that last paragraph I remembered the Terrible Towel, another Pittsburgh tradition. Back in the 70’s a local Pittsburgh DJ asked all his listeners to bring a yellow towel to a playoff game and wave it. He did this in hopes that his bosses would see how many people cared for him and he would get a raise. Well we all know the rest – at least proceeds of sales of the official Terrible Towel go to charity. Not sure what happened with the DJ – time to oatmeal it. Throwing stuff on the ice – things such as hats for hat tricks, octopuseseses in Detroit during the playoffs, bats in Buffalo and rats in Florida to name a few find their way onto the ice. All of these are annoying unless you are a fan of that team of that tradition. The hats for hat tricks date back to Cricket in the 1800’s. I could type a 1,000 word blog about Cricket and what a hat trick is, but I know nothing about Cricket so I doubt I could get to 1,000 words, much less 100. The octopus in Detroit dates back to the 1950’s when it used to take 8 games in the playoffs to win the Cup. The 8 legs (are they legs?) of the octopus signified one of the 8 games. Sure it takes 16 games now to win the Cup, but the octopus tradition lives on. The bats in Buffalo have to do with a bat flying around in a stadium during a playoff game. Some dude on the Sabres smacked the bat out of the air with his stick and was forever known as “Batman.” The rats in Florida happened back in 1996 when a rat ran across the locker room of the Panthers and one of the players smacked the crap out of it with his stick. It made the news and the Panther fans throw rats on the ice during the playoffs (that is if they ever make the playoffs). Before I move on and to save a text from Harley asking “Do they throw real bats and rats on the ice?” No they throw rubber bats and rats on the ice, but sadly the octopus is real. I guess there is no PETS (people for the ethical treatment of squid) in Detroit. The guy yelling “Get in the hole” at a golf tournament – this is just dumb unless the golfer is putting, but you always hear some dumbass yell “get in the hole” on the drive at a 600 yard par 5. Now there is a joke in here somewhere about a guy making out with his girl and golf is on TV in the background and hearing the dumbass yell… The hockey playoff beard – I actually love this hockey tradition as it deals with the superstitious nature of athletes. This one is across all players during the playoffs, they just do it – no questions asked. Even fans don’t shave, and don’t get me started about a girl I was dating during the New York Rangers Stanley Cup season of 1994 and her lack of shaving. Not sure who was happier when the Rangers won the Cup, me or her. The Wave – I HATE THE WAVE and can’t believe it is still going strong at sporting events. I will admit it is cool at a football stadium with 100,000 people doing it, but at a ballpark with only 10,000 fans that barely fill 25% of the seats and you will have some moron, the wave runner, somewhere in the seats trying to get the wave going. And he keeps going until people do it. The wave runner is my least favorite fan next to… The lady whose season tickets are behind ours in Tampa – this “lady” complains about everything us fans do. She doesn’t like me because I wore my Hawks jersey to a few games and God forbid anybody wears a jersey other than a Lightning one, the “Boston Boys” whose season tickets are next to ours can attest to this. I am sure every arena in the league has a “lady” like this – just hope you don’t sit near her especially for a whole season. Other cool stuff I have seen: · Singing “Sweet Caroline” 8th inning at Fenway · “Take me out to the Ballgame” – 7th inning stretch at Wrigley · Mumbling thru the verses of “Bear Down, Chicago Bears” and then shouting out the chorus · National Anthem at a Blackhawk game · Yankee Roll call in the top of the 1st – Yankee Stadium · Shouting out “Leo” at a Columbus Blue Jackets game when they announce that Leo will be singing the National Anthem · The UCLA song girls · Only NHL players, coaches or team executives that have won the Cup are allowed to carry the Stanley Cup (that’s why that guy in the commercial wears the white gloves, his skin can’t touch the cup when he carries it.) · After winning a championship – the champagne locker room celebration (see below) · And the UCLA song girls And some not so cool stuff: · The really dumb chant at an Ohio State Football game – one half of the stadium chants “OH” and the other then chants “IO”. About the 100th time you hear this you really wish you were at an Ole Miss game – there is no way people are chanting the spelling of Mississippi, heck it’s the south – doubt that can even spell it · I hate the USC fight song and that stupid “V” thing they do with their fingers and pump their arms in rhythm with the stupid song. (Sorry, Irish fan here.) · Boomer Sooner – hate that they play that song after every…friggin…play or so it seems. (Sorry again, I saw Illinois State lose to Oklahoma in the 1985 NCAA Basketball Tournament and that song is still stuck in my noggin 26 years later.) · Hockey cheerleaders or “ice girls” as they call them. Why? Well I know why, but why? · Holy crap – I’m old · Just got an email from Bobby Jim Joe Bob in Missississippi (his spelling) titled – “it” and then the body of the email said “take that funnie man.” · After winning anything but the championship – the champagne locker room celebration. The worst is the team that earns the wild card spot in baseball – woo hoo, we came in 4th in our league – let’s get the champagne. The hopefully soon to be an every home game National Anthem at a Penguin game – Friday night in Pittsburgh the guy who was singing the National Anthem stopped singing after the 1st verse of the Anthem when he realized all 18,500 people were singing along. It was like at a Bruce Springsteen concert and the crowd sings the first verse of “Hungry Heart” as Bruce just watches. I have the You Tube video of the Anthem from the other night to the right of this blog. It gave me chills watching it. I know I missed a bunch of stuff, either good or bad and will most likely have a part 2, 3 and 4 to this as I get emails from people “reminding” me of stuff. So for now this is so long and good bye from OH…IO, see told you that was annoying. And one last thing, after having my sister and niece fly in last Friday and taking them to the Lightning – Penguin game in Pittsburgh while wearing my blue Steven Stamkos Tampa Bay Lightning jersey in the midst of 18,500 angry ass, white t-shirt wearing Penguin fans - Who’s “All In” now, Bitch. That last paragraph was dedicated to the fans in Section 304, Rows 1 to 3 at the St. Pete Times Forum who has to deal with the “lady” at Lightning games. Boy that feels better. ![]() Yes I am still alive and well even though I haven’t blogged in what seems like ages. The baseball season is in its 3rd week and I have yet to attend a game. In each of the last 2 seasons by now I had been to at least 6 ballparks. And the cool thing is that I am not jonesing to go to a game. Maybe I got baseballed out the past 2 seasons – nah that will never happen (sorry Charlie). I currently live within a 2.5 hour drive to 4 teams, yet I haven’t made the drive to any of them. What gives? Well the combo of no desire to visit Cincy, Cleveland, Detroit or Pittsburgh (who really does honestly). Crappy weather so far this early in the season and the big and most important reason – I was out of the country the opening week of the baseball season and we ain’t talking Canada or Mexico. I was in Spain! Yes Spain. Charlie’s son Brent is studying abroad this spring in Spain, come to think of it, I studied a broad (or two) in college but I never left Normal, IL. Sorry that was bad, but there are a bunch of guys now shaking their heads thinking “so did I.” So Charlie, Sherri and I hopped on a flight and went to visit Brent in Madrid and Barcelona. Without further ado (I asked last year, what exactly is ado? and never got an answer) is Bobby D’s helpful hints to traveling abroad to Madrid and Barcelona. I will have more detailed blogs about our doings while in Spain in the near future – yes I said near future which is Bobby D speak for when I get around to it. The Flight – If you have the means or in my case, the miles, upgrade to first class. International flights offer old school first class service. The seats are roomy and lay flat when you want to sleep. When the dude in front of you puts his seat back, it doesn’t matter because there is so much room that his dandruff filled hair isn’t in your face. They serve a five course meal with unlimited alcohol. It all starts with warm nuts, then an appetizer and salad, then a selection for the main course and then a handmade sundae. It was an orgy of food. After eating all that food (and drank all that wine) you naturally fall asleep. You get awoken about 75 minutes before landing with get this, more food with a choice of an egg sandwich or fruit and yogurt and of course, more booze. But the benefits don’t end there. Being in first class you get off the plane first which allows you to be in the front of the line to go thru immigration (more on this in a bit). Your luggage will be tagged as priority and will be the first on the belt which lets you lead the parade to get thru customs (more on this in a bit). If you sit in coach, good luck that’s all I can tell you about that. Immigration – In Spain it was a joke. You walk up to some immigration officer, he barely looks at your passport, stamps said passport and mumbles something in Spanish (since I speak some Spanish, I think he said I was ugly and my momma dresses me funny or welcome to Spain, not sure) and that’s it. I was now in Spain. Customs – after getting your luggage (first on the belt because you took my advice and upgraded) you follow a sign that says “this way out” and go around a corner. Some 80 year old looking dude in a uniform just wave’s hello and you have cleared customs. Disclaimer: I am in no way saying that getting thru Spanish customs is a breeze so you should be able to easily smuggle something thru customs. I am sure that the 80 year old looking dude in the uniform is well trained to spot a smuggler. Getting to your hotel – I opted for the cab ride. I did my homework ahead of time and knew that the cab ride is about 10 miles to the hotel which should be somewhere around $25 US (more on the Euro conversion in a bit). What I didn’t have handy was the address of my hotel and none of the cab drivers spoke any English and didn’t understand me no matter how loudly and slowly I spoke to them in English. Finally a group of us figured out I was staying at the Viyu Real Hotel – not the Villa Real Hotel. What I forgot in my limited Spanish is the double L in Spanish is pronounced “yu” not LL. The Hotel – European hotels, well at the least the 3 we stayed at, offer most of the common features of American hotels but you have to do your homework regarding picking a hotel and read as many reviews as possible. I will go into more detail of the hotels in future blogs as one of the hotels will be a blog in itself (yes that is a teaser to get you to come back). The one thing I will say is that the elevators are small – like really small. The sign in the elevator says the capacity is 6 people, ya right. Maybe if the hotel was in Oz, not Madrid. Eating in a place at your hotel – do not, do not, do not do this. The breakfast buffets are extremely expensive (our wallets speak from experience) and don’t really offer that good of food. When you get to the hotel, check out the lay of the land. I am willing to bet within a 5 minute walk of your hotel you will find a sidewalk café or Starbucks (yes they are alive and well in Spain) that offer a really good, cooked to order breakfast for about 5 Euros. Conversion rate – The US dollar is really suffering in Europe (well everywhere really) with the current exchange rate being around $0.60 per Euro. I came up with a quick, high level costing formula to decide the US cost of something. You take the Euro cost and divide by 2 and then times that by 3. That will be on the high side of the US cost, but will give you a quick, down and dirty picture of the US cost. Where and more importantly, what time to eat – Europeans eat late. Breakfast places are usually open early, like 6ish but don’t get crowded until after 8. Lunch is sometime after 2 and dinner at 8 or much later. There are so many great sidewalk café’s to chose from that Brent told us a secret, if they have pictures of their food selections on display, stay away – those are more touristy places. The key to the whole eating thing in Spain is tapas. What are tapas? Well they are appetizers that you get for free when you order a round of drinks in the afternoon. You get your drinks and a plate of appetizers. The more you drink, the better the tapas get. My goal was to drink until the tapas were filet mignon or at least Iberian ham. Getting around – The public transportation system in Spain is clean, safe and extremely efficient. If you miss your train, this is another one about 4 minutes behind it. The trains and buses do get crowded and most likely you will have to stand. If public transportation isn’t your cup of tea then there are cabs everywhere and you won’t have to wait more than a minute or 2 to get a cab. Do pay attention to pricing though – sometimes we paid what was on the meter and other times there was an invisible up charge for those of us who are ugly and our momma’s dressed us funny. Language barrier – In Madrid it is best to know some Spanish or at least have someone in your party that speaks some Spanish. Brent has done an amazing job of learning Spanish and was a huge help. In Barcelona which is more of a cosmopolitan city, most places had employees who spoke excellent English. Also bathroom is not bano in Spain, it is aseos. Very important if you have to take a pee pee (universal in any language.) Walking – No matter what form of transportation you take, you will walk and then walk some more and when you think you are done walking – you are not, you will walk some more. Next to upgrading to 1st class the best thing I did for the trip was spend $130 on Asics Gel sneakers (or gym shoes for those of you who still say pop instead of soda.) My feet thanked me every night for doing so. My advice when in Spain - carb up because you will need those carbs to do all that walking. Yes beer counts as carbs!!! Beer – yes I typed that thinking of Homer Simpson. The beer in Spain is ok but nothing that I will look for now that I am back in the States. What I will look for is Spanish wine which is very yummy and very, very inexpensive. On average a bottle of Spanish wine at a nice restaurant is about 14 Euros (how many of you just did the conversion to US?) Jet Lag – For us people in the Eastern Time zone, Spain is a 6 hour time change. There is no secret to beating a 6 hour time change. The thing that we all did was take the red eye to Spain which leaves the US sometime late in the afternoon and lands in Spain at 7ish their time. Sleep some on the plane (which you did because you took my advice on 1st class) and then try as hard as you can to not sleep until that night at your normal bed time. Hopefully you will be exhausted from the travel, walking, drinking and eating tapas that by 8 to 9 that night you will fall readily asleep and get your 8 hours. The rest of the trip should work fine, stay up later at night which is easy since you won’t eat dinner until sometime after 8. On the return trip do not sleep on the plane. Since you took my advice and upgraded to 1st class, each seat has its own entertainment set up with movies or you can do what I did and load up my iPad with 4 movies to watch on the flight. Most flights back to the US leave late morning to early afternoon you will land back in the states around 3ish. I connected thru Philly (Philly’s airport sucks BTW) and didn’t get home to Columbus until 9. This was perfect as you want to stay up to your normal bedtime and hopefully get your 8 hours. I will warn you, that first week back you will be in a daze. You will have many “blonde” moments that you can just blame on jet lag. I guess that’s about it for my helpful hints for traveling abroad. I am sure I missed many but it was fun typing this up as it is bringing back many great memories of the trip. Over the coming weeks I will be blogging about those memories starting with attending a bullfight in Madrid and ending with the aforementioned hotel. So for now this is so long and good bye from the good old U S of A where it is hockey and basketball playoff time, baseball is cruising along, Barry Bonds hung a jury and Josh Hamilton broke his arm sliding head first into home and then sold out his 3rd base coach. Why do I mention that? Because it is nice to type those things knowing they make sense because in Spain if I said those things all I would get is a blank stare and the guy staring at me thinking “boy this guy is ugly and his momma sure dresses him funny.” |