Oh, who am I kidding? Beach volleyball would never survive in a professional sports marketplace like the one presented to us for a few short weeks in October. Don’t get me wrong, once the Dodgers and Red Sox lost, my weeknights opened up splendidly for Emmy winning shows like House, Mad Men and Gossip Girl. I would never, ever watch a World Series involving a team from the state of Florida. Sorry Misty’s husband. I just can’t willingly support a team battling for the ultimate prize in America’s former national pastime that doesn’t support itself. Sell out a game at home, or I’m sorry, sell more than 20,000 tickets for a game at home determining the American East Crown and I might start acknowledging the Rays or Marlins as legitimate Sports Organizations. Wait, did I just try to slide Gossip Girl by as an Emmy Award winner? My bad. It should be. And hold on, Tampa’s in Florida, why the heck are they playing in a dome? They’re not the Twins. It’s not twenty-six degrees in April as the season commences. Even the Twins are building an outdoor stadium. You know why, because fans in the summertime don’t want to sit inside breathing recycled air watching athletes who are unable to get dirty because they’re playing on turf. 

Don’t think for a second that the guys side doesn’t need a youth marketing blitz almost as much as the ladies; Holdren, Fonoi, Blanton, Ceman and Kiraly have all retired in the last two years, and those are some huge names with Olympic accolades and medals to their credit. What happens when Fuerbs, Sean Scott, Lambo, Hyden, Steino, Kevin Wong, Loiola, Souza and Nygaard all retire within two years as well? The youngest guy in that whole group will be 35 by the time the 2009 Summer Season begins, and none of them are Karch, if you know what I’m saying. Nor do they have a bazillion dollar Speedo endorsement deal to hold on to and carry them through the rough patches. E.g., Dax has got more than a couple good years left in him, as seen in his epic battle for the finals against Jake and Rosie in Long Beach, but he’s phoning it in because his primary sponsor, Nautica, is out.

 

 

I almost feel like Todd and Phil read my blog following their loss to Latvia. They never wore those God-awful blue shorts again, and Todd’s attitude was surprisingly less critical of Phil’s every move along the net. Granted, Phil was absolutely unstoppable, so if Todd even attempted to flash one sign of disapproval, the green light would have been given for someone, anyone, to immediately sweep in and deliver a swift boot to his balls. And that’s the cold, hard truth.

 

Phil was a God the rest of the way. There’s no other way to describe it. They had one questionable moment against the Swiss when they went down 6-0 to open up the 3rd set, but somehow, after a timeout, they scored the next 5 points to almost draw even. And once they retook the lead, they never looked back. The quarters was close for a set, the semi against “Georgia” was an absolute joke, and the finals consisted of some seriously sick volleyball until our main man, the “Beast,” decided to make it his own Gold Medal to win, by blocking 27 balls in the 15 point, 3rd and final Olympic set.

 

Congrats to both Todd Rogers and Phil Dalhausser for their epic, once in a lifetime, Olympic beach volleyball tournament. Their legacy is set, and nobody in America was disappointed watching them reclaim the beach gold medal from Brazil.

 

Well, maybe not everybody. I’m not sure if Jake and Rosie were that stoked with 5th place, but in all honesty, that’s one of the best matches I’ve ever seen Ricardo and Emanuel play. Blocking, digging, siding-out, serving; they seemed to have it all that night in Beijing. And Gibb/Rosenthal didn’t even play poorly. They just seemed to lose every big point, and then couldn’t find a way to make them up in the end. I, for one, desperately wanted them to win that match and get into the medal rounds. In fact, I was actually nervous going to sleep that night as they were about to play, knowing that when I woke, their destiny would already be completed, good or bad. As fate would have it, my anxiety was appropriately timed, and after watching the match on tape delay, I understood why. Brazil was going to do everything in their power to win that match, and America just caught them on the wrong day. 

 

Without a doubt, a large congratulations also goes out to my good friends, Jake Gibb and Sean Rosenthal. They hopefully will not forget they are still Olympians, an honor bestowed upon only the greatest athletes in the world, and that they represented an entire nation who had their backs every time they stepped foot on the sand. I have a feeling they might both be back in London, possibly on separate teams, in another Olympic Gold medal run. I hope to be there as well; watching, of course. This thing is too good to just watch on TV.

 

And last but not least, congrats to both American Women’s teams. I sometimes forget to pay tribute to the ladies and just how incredible their achievements are as well. Misty and Kerri are an anomaly. They did everything they needed to do in order to be successful, all the while not letting one single ounce of pressure get to them. I envy their amazing ability to perform as if no one is watching; it’s seriously incredible. And you can’t honestly tell me there is one single cooler individual than Misty May. I mean, really, how sweet is that girl? She rocks. That’s it. Case closed. Kerri is awesome as well, but I just can’t seem to get enough of Misty wearing that classic Chinese brimmed hat or her dancing to her own beat following the second biggest win of their careers.

 

USA GOLD. 2 Times. What a great Olympics.

 

On to the indoor. What if? Huh? What if we go home with 4 Golds? I can’t even imagine!