Much Olympic coverage will be available on NBC and its affiliates, primarily CNBC and USA (but also E?). However, Peacock will apparently be covering every event live, in full. It appears that I already have Peacock as part of my cable package. Maybe others do as well. With that in mind, here is the upcoming Peacock schedule (MN times) for the U.S. Women & Men’s indoor Volleyball (through pool play):
WOMEN VB:
Monday, 7/29, vs China, 10 am
Wednesday, 7/31, vs Serbia, 10 am
Sunday, 8/4, vs France, 6 am
MEN VB:
Saturday, 7/27, vs Argentina, 2pm
Tuesday, 7/30, vs Germany, 10am
Friday, 8/2, vs Japan, 2pm
Perfect for us retired guys.
And for those newly excited about Water Polo:
U.S. Men vs Italy, Sunday, 7/28, 8am &
U.S. Men vs Greece, Thursday, 8/1, 3:30 am
The U.S. is likely to lose both of these WP matches, but I’m sure the scheduling at inaccessable times (2 hrs earlier in California) is a coincidence (not).
ANOTHER STORY
While I’m on this topic, here’s my favorite story, a long one (you know me), but a good one (I think), from the ‘84 Olympics:
Tickets for the ‘84 Olympics were available to the public, in May of ‘83, by mail – through SearsRoebuck. The form, available at your local Sears, was organized by time-slot, e.g., Day 6 – Afternoon, etc. and for each slot you indicated a “first choice,” and, if you wanted, a second and third choice should you not get your first choice. I went crazy, ordering an assortment of water polo, volleyball, basketball, track & field, boxing and wrestling. As usual, the Gold Medal Game for Men’s Polo and Men’s Basketball were both on the last evening before the final day. On a whim, figuring I wouldn’t be lucky enough to get the Basketball, I put Basketball first and Water Polo second.
To my surprise, I got more tickets than we could really afford, including the Gold Medal Game in Men’s Basketball. But before that, while I was waiting to learn what I got, the Soviets invaded Afghanistan (who could be so stupid, right?), Jimmy Carter boycotted the ‘80 Olympics in Moscow, and in retaliation the Soviet Bloc (except Yugoslavia) boycotted the ‘84 Olympics in L.A. – dramatically changing prospects in Basketball and Water Polo, where the Eastern Block (this was when the Olympics did not allow openly professional athletes) had the best teams.
Fast-Forward to ‘84 in L.A.:
- I’m having a wonderful time;
- Maureen is getting tired of sports-sports-sports;
- The American Men’s Water Polo Team (no Women’s Polo yet), scraping by, will be facing Yugoslavia (the 5th best team in the recent Warsaw Games) for the Gold, while our Men’s Basketball Team will be facing Spain, who they defeated by 40 pts in the prelims;
- And I have the stupid Basketball Tickets!
Friend LJ (whom some of you know), living in the Bay Area at the time, has come down to L.A. to give Maureen a break. We’d much rather see the Polo, but this is pre-internet and there is no place to go to even attempt said switch. Desperate, we go to the Basketball semis (no tickets for that), hoping to scalp my Basketball tix for cash to buy Polo tix.
There are scalpers selling tickets for the semis. I hold up my tickets and announce that I have a pair for the Gold Medal Game – quickly drawing a crowd shouting, “Where are they?” and “How much?” I announce the section and row (which means nothing to me or most of the crowd) and say, “They’re $40 face value, but I’d like to have $200.” A short man wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat immediately steps forward, pulling two Ben Franklins off a “roll.” Thinking quick (for once in my life) I say, “Each,” and he calmly peels off two more.
Two nights later, LJ and I are driving up the coast, and I’m thinking, “Do I really want to spend $400 (a lot of money in ‘84) for LJ and I to see this game?” The Polo Venue is at Pepperdine, where the stands (on one side only) overlook the pool, and beyond that, the City of Malibu. (Majestic, much?) A 2-lane road winds up the mountain to get there, and there are literally hundreds of people holding signs saying, “I need tickets.” (Remember, California is to Water Polo what Minnesota is to hockey.) Sign-holders include men holding fistfulls of cash, and girls in bikinis with signs reading, “I’ll do anything for a ticket.” And I’m thinking, “$400 is not going to be nearly enough for two tickets.”
We pay $5 to park; car next to us is a single. older man; on a whim, I ask, “Don’t suppose you have any extra tickets?” He does — a pair! “How much,” I ask.” “They’re $20 tickets (Polo being cheaper than Basketball)” he says, “but they made me pay to park” (he’s weirdly pissed about this), “so I’d like $45 for the pair.” I quickly hand him $60. He doesn’t have change and neither do we. “Keep it,” I say. He refuses! Turns out, the guy is the President of Pepperdine University. He got the tickets comp, dislikes Water Polo because the Pepperdine Players are Prima Donnas, but doesn’t want to scalp them. He insists we walk to the gate (past throngs of people waving Benjamins) where there are souvenir stands, I buy something stupid to get change, and give him the $45.
At the last minute, he says,”There’s another problem with these tickets.” (I’m thinking obstructed view? We have to wear Pepperdine Shirts? But at this point, who cares?) Turns out they’re not side-by-side — but they’re mid-pool, one in the second row and the other behind it in the third row. WHAT A GAME. The U.S. takes an early lead and hangs on to it until late in the 4th quarter — when the Yugos score two last minute goals to win.
I have my Nikon and take a couple of photos during the game (this never works because of the glare). I use the last of my film (this is pre-digital) on the Medal Ceremony at the end of the pool, roughly 30 yards from our seats, during which all the Yugoslavian fans gather behind us where the coach’s wife was seated. And immediately afterward, the Yugo team gathers right below us — 8 ft away, draped in Yugoslavian flags, to sing their national anthem. (This was the first team sport Gold Medal in Yugoslavian Olympic history — and the last since the country disintegrated into civil war 6 years later, so a big deal.) These huge, robust players are crying like babies as they sing — and I’m out of film.