COPENHAGEN -- Eleven shots of tequila were lined up across the bar. The guy paying, a member of Chicago's 2016 Olympics bid committee, assured me that he wouldn't be doing all 11 by himself. It was a night to drown sorrows at the Hard Rock Cafe, an American-based establishment where a saddened and dazed Chicago crew -- routed in the first round, like the Cubs in the playoffs -- had many more questions than answers at tables around a chilly, rainy city.
"How much of this had to do with anti-Americanism?'' asked one.
Plenty, I said. And when another emphasized that Chicago won't be bidding in 2020 and maybe ever again, it occurred to me that the U.S. shouldn't, either -- at least until President Obama has his house in order, until the chaotic U.S. Olympic Committee makes peace with the International Olympic Committee, until America figures out how to politick within the Olympic movement and until America improves its image and softens its relationships with a world that still views the U.S. as an arrogant monster.
Editor's note: This is an updated version of an earlier column.
COPENHAGEN -- Forgetting the need for prim-and-proper behavior, the staid, stuffy members of the International Olympic Committee broke from protocol today. They grabbed their cell phones in the Bella Center and took photos of President Obama, confirming that they view him as a rock star. Whether this translated into Chicago landing the 2016 Games would be known in a few hours, but clearly, Obama can charm the world without saying much or staying very long.
"I urge you to choose Chicago," he told the voting members during his five-hour stay in the Danish capital. "And if you do -- if we walk this path together -- then I promise you this: The city of Chicago and the United States of America will make the world proud.''
COPENHAGEN -- Oprah is here. Oprah is smiling. Oprah is talking to the Great Danes, both humans and dogs. Oprah is shopping on the Stroget, the world's longest pedestrian street, carrying a colorful bag with just-bought goodies. Oprah is ready to pump flesh and exchange hugs with any and all International Olympic Committee members -- or, better still, their wives. Oprah even has no problem, after a long plane ride, appearing at a Chicago 2016 dinner/revival/love-in with hundreds of supporters.
LOS ANGELES -- Here in Mannywood -- Section 51, Row H, Seat 15, Wig Size M -- no one cares that the hero committed a hideous baseball crime. Nor do they care that a writer from the civilized world is sitting among them on a lovely night, wondering if they should be lobotomized for glorifying a drug cheat. All they know is that their faux dreadlocks are in place, their No. 99 jerseys are worn proudly and the epicenter of their existence is back and playing left field for the Dodgers, under a summer sky that is true blue even when Manny Ramirez was not.
CHICAGO -- They are a mind-numbing machine, really, almost monotonous in their dominance, discipline and staying power. Sport in the 21st century isn't conducive to a dynasty lasting a dozen years, but the winged-wheel jersey and slimy octopus of the Detroit Red Wings have been lodged in our consciousness since 1997, good for four Stanley Cups and maybe a fifth next month.
WASHINGTON -- There are times, when the house lights are down and the Verizon Center is bathed in red, that Alex Ovechkin seems like much more than a rock star and Charles Barkley's choice as the best athlete in sports (remember, LeBron James and the Chuckster are feuding). Really, it's the closest thing I've seen in an arena to a cult revival, with heavy-metal riffs tearing through the lubed-up, raucous crowd and "ROCK THE RED" stenciled menacingly on the ice.
BALTIMORE -- Where they make oversized Styrofoam syringes, I'm really not sure. But several fans were waving them Friday night as Alex Rodriguez, charter member of the ever-swelling Superstar Juicers Club, stepped to the plate for his first real at-bat since confirming he used steroids. The home crowd stood, booed lustily and rooted passionately for a strikeout, which qualifies as a keepsake ballpark thrill in the performance-enhancement era.
INDIANAPOLIS -- On his tippy toes, he might be 5-10, very easy to lose in the enormity of a football stadium where faces look like matrix dots and crowd noise drifts to the ozone. But no one strikes a larger pose in the Midwest today than Tom Izzo, public defender of the Big Ten's battered self-esteem. If trends and hipness start on both coasts in America, college basketball in the heartland also has been taking on an irrelevant, plodding look, to the point I stopped watching.
BOSTON -- Tubby Smith is much too dignified to laugh out loud, or LOL in the text-message age. But for all the abuse he took at Kentucky during a decade that was absolutely dreadful -- a national championship, a 263-83 record, an NCAA tournament appearance every season, just horrendous stuff -- who could blame him if he wanted to giggle to himself Friday?
Seems the bluegrass has turned to fertilizer in Lexington.
DAYTON, Ohio -- DeJuan Blair's arms are so humongous, he wears bicep bands, tiny strips of cloth stretched to the brink of snapping. At 6-foot-7 and 265 pounds, he could play tight end in the NFL or enter the Octagon, proving it Sunday when he shook off a furious collision that left Oklahoma State's Byron Eaton literally crying in pain on the bench. Levance Fields, too, could put on the big pads as a safety, absorbing a blindside pop in the chops and bouncing right back up. Sam Young? A 6-6, 220-pound wideout, no doubt, when he isn't listening to Go-Go music.
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COPENHAGEN -- Eleven shots of tequila were lined up across the bar. The guy paying, a member of Chicago's 2016 Olympics bid committee, assured me that he wouldn't be doing all 11 by himself. It was a night to drown sorrows at the Hard Rock Cafe, an American-based establishment where a saddened and dazed Chicago crew -- routed in the first round, like the Cubs in the playoffs -- had many more questions than answers at tables around a chilly, rainy city..jpg)
Editor's note: This is an updated version of an earlier column..jpg)
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CHICAGO -- They are a mind-numbing machine, really, almost monotonous in their dominance, discipline and staying power. Sport in the 21st century isn't conducive to a dynasty lasting a dozen years, but the winged-wheel jersey and slimy octopus of the 
BALTIMORE -- Where they make oversized Styrofoam syringes, I'm really not sure. But several fans were waving them Friday night as 
INDIANAPOLIS -- On his tippy toes, he might be 5-10, very easy to lose in the enormity of a football stadium where faces look like matrix dots and crowd noise drifts to the ozone. But no one strikes a larger pose in the Midwest today than 
BOSTON -- .jpg)
