Day 17: London

Day 17: London

You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need
And I went down to the demonstration
To get my fair share of abuse
Singing, "We're gonna vent our frustration
If we don't we're gonna blow a 50-amp fuse"
You can't always get what you want

Pics: One of Italy vs Bulgaria, THB and M, several of Russia and Brazil, Southwest trains (with SWA color theme?), Mr Whippy,

Book Review: Watergate, a novel by Thomas Mallon. Well, it’s a novel, yet somehow because of the time lapse, it sure seems an exquisite retelling of the break-in with just enough accuracy to be a non-fiction portrayal and get your juices going again with the hope that Nixon will be impeached. Starts with the break-in, uses a few of the more obscure figures (Fred LaRue, the “bagman”), and some of the more well-known (Rose Mary Woods, Pat Nixon) to move the story along (almost no Woodward and Bernstein, they aren’t needed anymore). THB has checked (is using Wikipedia checking?) and the details used to flesh out the characters are correct (did Fred really shoot his father in a hunting accident? Yes! Did Dorothy Hunt, E Howard Hunt’s wife and a fellow CIA agent, really die in a plane crash? Yes!). Highly Recommended, and not just because Nixon resigns (phew, THB did not need to look that one up).

Grape Nuts and apple, a ride to the Tube, and a VB doubleheader. M, our host along with G, accompanies us to the first match, the Men’s Bronze, Italy vs Bulgaria. Italy coasts to a 3-1 victory, losing only the second set, 23-25.

After the match, M heads back to Wimbledon and we decide on our more modest Indian spot for lunch. Signs sez it opens at 11:30, it is around 11:45 and the place is closed and yet we can see there is food laid out in the display case. Hmmmmm….we wait a bit, and then head to Orjowan for more falafel, shawarma, hummus (excellent) with pita and diet cokes, $20. And, a softie with chocolate flake from Mr Whippy, $3.

Up next, the Men’s Gold Medal match, Russia vs Brazil. The stands are loaded with Yellow and Green, chanting and dancing away; not too much red and white. Brazil is routing the Roooskies, winning the first two sets by good size margins: 25-18 and 25-20. Brazil has a match point in set three, saved by the Red Menace, and finally, by 29-27, the Federation wins a set.

In set four, the former Soviets lead early and then build up a huge lead which Brazil cuts into near the end, with the final being 25-22, Stalinists holding on.

Set 5 is a rout: the young Russian’s 7’2” center blocker is having the match of his career, finally getting his serve in (we watched one entire set where he failed to get in a single serve) , pounding the ball from the outside (both skills sorely lacking in the other two matches we saw Russia play), and to top it off he has the final spike, giving the Red Storm a 15-8 victory…..but, wait, apparently before the celebration starts, the ref had blow the whistle and given the point to Brazil (whose fans by this point have gone noticeably quiet). Not to worry: Russia puts away the next point, to win the Gold!

Size and strength (the hero of the match) vs the Brazilian libero (defensive specialist who makes every dig and set effortlessly and perfectly) turns out to favor size and power, at least in this match, as you can keep going to your offensive talent while also figuring out how to avoid the libero.

What a great culmination to a great O’s!

Dinner with our hosts and (grown) kids in Wimbledon at Cote, a French spot: appetizers of flat bread, starters of various kinds, a slew of main courses, and a sliced tomato salad (ordered and eaten almost entirely by THB), bottle of wine, cider, endless glasses of tap water, $220 for the six of us.

Everyone now in safely for a watching of the closing…