Sports = Indianapolis

Indianapolis likes to say that it “never met a sport it didn’t like.” In the past few months I’ve seen the Capital City embrace football, hockey, bicycling, and the old Hoosier standby–basketball.

Yes, they love their sports in Indiana. I guess the idea of men sweating in close bodily contact appeals to the adventuresome denizens of this state. Still, I can appreciate some of the charm of these old traditional time-killers. I was there for the Final Four (well, not actually there. I was in a sports bar, sharing the camaraderie of my fellow imbibers and belching a lot).

I was there for the 34th annual running of the Little 500 down at Indiana University. If you’ve seen the movie “Breaking Away” then you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, ask someone who has, cuz I don’t wanna take the time to explain it. And frankly, the movie is too boring to rent.

Suffice to say, it’s a bike race of 50 miles (200 laps around a 1/4 mile track) and our guy came in 28th out of 33 teams. Out of four major accidents involving serious bodily damage, our guy survived three of them relatively unscathed—one occurred right in front of us! Three guys had to be carried off in stretchers. It was so cool. They served beer at his frat house, so I had fun.

Continuing the sports theme of this column, I’ve been watching the new World League of American Football. Now that’s fun. Based on some of the team’s ability, apparently not all the rules of American football translate to other languages all that well. With all the major blow-out scores, I kept thinking it was the Super Bowl.

Helmet-cam? Oh, yeah, watching static really gives you the feeling of being on the field.

And how about that “Rocket Ismail” guy. I’ll bet he’s gonna be a famous face all over the world soon. Just about all the networks are vying to broadcast Canadian football games. Rocket-who? The last guy anybody heard from who played for the Argonauts, was a guy named Jason.

One other relatively major sporting event, the Indy 500, is coming up soon, but I’ll probably dedicate an entire sports column to that one. It’s supposed to be big—400,000 people or something. A vast majority of whom are female and, I’m told, shed various articles of clothing when prompted. That must be why they call it the greatest spectacle in racing.