To be sure, there’s not a lot of physical contact. But you
can bet that I was on the edge of my seat as young David Tidmarsh
spelled his final word for the National Spelling Bee
Championship.
“A-U-T-O-C-H-T-H-O-N-O-U-S,” he recited.
Collapsing to my knees, I flung my Merriam-Webster dictionary at
the television in anger. I was rooting for the underdog of the
spelling bee, Akshay Buddiga, who had come back from fainting
earlier in the competition to make it to the final round.
I continued to curse at the television as Tidmarsh went through
his celebration dance and received the Spelling Bee Cup, which he
used later that evening to drink his celebratory Kool-Aid.
I half expected him to be doused with champagne, but then
remembered he was still two years away from getting a
driver’s license.
I bemoaned my bad luck. How could I root for the underdog? Of
course he would lose. Now I know how UCLA sports fans feel.
And why was I watching this?
Well, it was on ESPN.
Which begs the question ““ did the spelling bee belong on
ESPN? Is it really a sport?
After watching Buddiga’s collapse, the standing ovation
and the climactic finale, I say yes. They condition every day
(usually three hours every day through the dictionary), they
practice (usually with their parents ““ and if they
don’t, they don’t get dinner), and they have a playbook
(the dictionary).
All in the name of an annual competition in Washington, D.C.
True, it’s hard to consider these kids athletic, but if
you’re ever walking down the street and need someone to spell
the word, “serpiginous,” Tidmarsh is your man.
And lest we forget, there’s the fainting incident,
probably due to dehydration and a lack of proper conditioning. Get
this kid some Gatorade. Can he spell
“electrolytes”?
And if you still don’t agree that the spelling bee is a
sport, you could force it to interact with sports.
Like maybe make the spelling bee an event in the 2004 Olympic
games. Sure, Tidmarsh knows how to spell “sophrosyne”
in English, but could he do it in German?
Das habe ich gedacht! Hey, Tidmarsh, that’s German for,
“That’s what I thought.”
Or you could bring it home to college sports.
THE PRONOUNCER (yes, that’s his official title):
Krzyzewski.
TIDMARSH: What the hell is that?
THE PRONOUNCER: He’s the men’s basketball coach at
Duke.
TIDMARSH: Origin, please.
THE PRONOUNCER: It’s Polish, from the country Poland.
TIDMARSH: Are there any other alternate pronunciations?
THE PRONOUNCER: Well, everyone calls him “Coach
K.”
TIDMARSH: Could you use it in a sentence?
THE PRONOUNCER: Yes. Spell the word
“Krzyzewski.”
TIDMARSH: Okay, here goes. C-H-E-F-C-H-E-F-S-K-Y.
THE PRONOUNCER: Wrong, little man! It’s spelled
K-R-Z-Y-Z-E-W-S-K-I.
TIDMARSH: I don’t think I’ve ever heard a word with
a “˜z,’ a “˜y’ and a “˜w’ in it
before. All it needs is an “˜x.’
This just in ““ Bay Area Lab Cooperative is announcing that
it will be continuing its steroid investigation with Tidmarsh.
UCLA has its fair share of difficult words, too. Remember when
your teacher told you, “”˜I’ before
“˜e,’ except after “˜c’?” Lies! Just
ask former football player Rodney Leisle.
Which brings me back to my point. This is a grueling contest, in
which two foes clash against each other. The blood, sweat and tears
fuse together to become one greasy fluid. If it weren’t a
sport, I wouldn’t be feeling so desolate and unhappy.
I was a fool for riding all my hopes on Akshay. To be so close
to the championship win, yet so far. To do so much, only to choke
at the end. Now I know how Sacramento Kings fans must feel.
E-mail Tran at btran@media.ucla.edu.