Category: Fourre-tout

Yesterday I drove to Sonoma (in my new car, yes) to take part in the Valley of the Moon Pétanque Club’s Annual Wine Country Classic (that’s a real mouthful).
To me, and many people, it is simply remembered as the Tino Lofaro Memorial.

Twenty-four doublettes signed up for this event and they were as follows:

1. Yor Lee/Poe Lee
2. Phominick Lee/Teng Lee
3. Bernard Passmar/Alain Efron
4. Antoine Lofaro/Rene Di Maio
5. Teri Sirico/?? Hall
6. Ed Porto/Robert Dunn
7. Carlos Couto/Etienne Rijkheer
8. Steve Paulsen/Peggy Silverside
9. Kevin Evoy/Frosty Sabo
10. Gustave Foucher/Genevieve Etallaz
11. J-C Bunand/J-C Etallaz
12. Narin Garrett/Nicole Coughlin
13. Joe La Torre/Mike Cooper
14. Bill Millery/Patrick Vaslet
15. Alain Gusella/Le Facteur
16. Barbara Hall/Erin McTaggart
17. Mike Menefee/Maggie Lane
18. Dave Katz/John Cunnard
19. Hendrik Idzerda/Marie-Anne Curley
20. Carolina Jones/Beth??
21. Peter Wellington/Sienna Gredske
22. PJ/Holly Sammons
23. Peter Mathis/Mickey Coughlin
24. Steve Jones/Christina Jones

Please excuse the spelling of some names. I find it difficult to read somebody else’s handwriting, especially when it is in cursive.

The weather was sunny, but not excessively hot, and the field was dry and very dusty.

Three 11 points games were played before lunch and Concours and Consolante started in the afternoon.

The master of ceremony was always-cool Patrick Vaslet.
When I participate in a tournament it is difficult for me to keep track of the other players’ performance, so the only thing I can report accurately is how my partner (Bernard Passmar) and I fared that day.

On our first game we faced confident (overconfident?) Alain Gusella and Le Facteur.
When I play in a tournament I absolutely hate to lose the first game, and it looked like this was going to be a difficult encounter.
But no matter what the odds are, I don’t give up easily.

Bernard and I were in sync and played well.
Against all expectations we humbled Gusella and Le Facteur 11-9.

Did I show glee? No. Maybe… probably… definitely!
Winning against complacent competitors is always very gratifying and glee is difficult to suppress. Sorry about that.

On our second game we faced Hendrik Idzerda and Marie-Anne Curley.
Marie-Anne is a steady pointer and Hendrik showed some signs of brilliance.
We lost 8-11.

On our third game, we came across Peter Wellington and Siena (?) Gredske
We seemed to have lost our mojo and went down 5-11.

In the afternoon, to my surprise, I learned that we qualified to play in the Concours.
In our first elimination game we faced Narin Garrett and Nicole Coughlin.
A respectable team.
Narin is an excellent shooter and I like her odd but effective way of shooting. Her recoiled wrist weirdly reminds me of a coiled snake ready to strike.
Nicole is a very decent pointer.

The game was extremely tight and toward the end we were standing at 12-12.
Two balls were now in front of the cochonnet. One of ours and one of them.
Theirs was the closest and had to be removed for us to win the game.
They didn’t have any boules left and I had two.

From where I was standing, it looked like the boule on the right was the closest to the cochonnet and had to be dislodged.
I shot once and missed. I shot my second boule. Solid hit.
Victory was ours!
But the other team was now celebrating and my partner looked forlorn…
What had happened?

As it turned out, I had unknowingly struck our own ball.
We lost 12-13 and were out of the tournament.
Moral of the story: look carefully before you jump.
I didn’t and I take the blame for our defeat.

Since there was a car race at Sears Point, I decided to leave early in order to avoid traffic jams on my way back.

Once home, I received a phone call from Rene Di Maio.

To my surprise, I learned that Alain G. and Le Facteur had won the tournament. And 13-0 to boot!
I was absolutely stunned.

Not that they didn’t deserve it, but “fannying” their seemingly unbeatable Hmong opponents seemed outreageous..
Congratulations to the winners of course, but since they beat the best of the bests, and since we beat them in the morning, my take is that the true winners of this tournament are Bernard and myself.

Being magnanimous, we will let them keep the title (and the moolah) without any further protest.
But deep in our hearts we know who the true champions are!

The final results communicated to me by Shannon Bowman are as follows:

Concours:

1st place: Alain Gusella and Jean-Michel Poulnot
2nd place: Phominick Lee and Teng Lee
3rd place: PJ Mallette and Holly Sammons
4th place: Yor Lee and Poe Lee

Consolante:

1st place: Barbara Hall and Erin McTaggart
2nd place: Maggie Lane and Mike Meneffee
3rd place: Ed Porto and Robert Dunn

Alain

 

I just finished watching an old French movie called “Les choses de la vie” (The things of life) starring Romy Schneider and Michel Piccoli.

It is a good, well-acted movie, and unlike many French flicks it has a beginning and (wonder of wonders) even an end.
I thoroughly enjoyed watching it and I would recommend it, with a caveat.

But before I go any further, I would like to point out that this movie was made in 1970 and this date is important because it reflects the mores of the time.

In practically every sequence, the (rather selfish) hero is smoking. And you can tell by the way he is handling his cigarette that this guy is not a recreational smoker.
He is not smoking just for the movie. This guy (like most of his contemporaries) is a hardcore smoking addict.

As a non-smoker I found this rather annoying.
One cigarette once in a while maybe, but chain-smoking? Give us a break!
I kept thinking “enough with that stupid cigarette”…
And how could any woman be attracted to a guy who reeks of tobacco and smells like an old ashtray? Life is full of mysteries…

You have got to admit that the cigarette industry did a masterful job in glamorizing the stinking weed.

Since I am also fond of old movies, I watch TMC (Turner Classic Movies) and in the 30’s it seems that there was a non-stop drinking and smoking binge.
In every movie sequence, men and women alike would light a cigarette and reach for a drink.
Of course, drinking and smoking in tuxedos added a little glamour to those pagan rituals, but still…
I bet that even Asta (Nick and Nora’s pooch) also smoked…

In our movie, Piccoli is not only a smoking addict, he is also a driving maniac.
Buckling up? Not for such a macho dude. And of course he is puffing on a ciggy while speeding in a blinding rain.
Personally, I cannot walk and chew gum at the same time. How can anybody puff on the weed and drive simultaneously without being distracted?

Piccoli is much older than me, but he is still part of my generation and I shudder thinking that I went through that period rather unscathed.

And the temptations were there. While in the French army, every two weeks I was provided with a dozen packs of Gauloises.
The food was lousy, but to keep the troops happy (and addicted) the French government (who had a very profitable monopoly on cigarettes) made sure that every recruit had his daily fix of cigarettes.
Future customers you know…

Anyway, “Les choses de la vie” despite its noxious fumes is still a good movie and I still recommend it, but I am surprised that Michel Piccoli (at age 87) is still able to breathe.

Alain

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Some people, especially young girls, dream of becoming movie stars.
The lure of fame is very extremely powerful, but one ought to remember that the path to stardom is fraught with pitfalls.

Becoming a star often starts with a Faustian deal.
The would-be celebrity strikes a bargain with the Devil, exchanging her/his soul for worldly pleasures.
For a while, everything will work out swimmingly. People will adore you and shower you with praise.

But the fine prints of the Devil’s contract stipulate that once you have signed on the dotted line, you forsake any claims to privacy.

And there is no gentlemen’s agreement between the press and luminaries; in the paper chase everybody and everything is fair game.
Especially for paparazzi.
Your mug, your flaws are their bread and butter and they are hungry.

Often overlooked by eager applicants, the fine lines in the Faustian contract also stipulate that you are bound to remain young and beautiful forever, otherwise the deal becomes null and void.

But beautiful people (like all of us, but to a lesser extent) are cursed with a condition called “aging”.

A song written in 1948 by French poet Raymond Queneau warns young girls about this predicament.

The words go:

Si tu crois petite
Que ton teint de rose, ta taille de guêpe
Tes mignons biceps, tes ongles d´émail
Ta cuisse de nymphe, et ton pied léger
Vont durer toujours
Ce que tu te goures..

 If you imagine little girl
That your rosy complexion, your narrow waist,
Your cute biceps, your polished nails
Your nymph’s thigh, your light foot
Will last forever
You are mistaken

If with time your body loses its tone and luster (and it will), don’t even think of the beach or bikinis anymore. And be wary of public appearances.
Paparazzi using sniper’s telephoto lenses will hit you at the most inopportune moment.
And their shots are not always flattering.

If you are not extremely careful (to the point of paranoia), cellulite, flabby stomach or drooping breasts will soon be plastered all over the Internet.
And the people who once adored you will forsake you for the next starlet sensation.

Personally I am not worried. I am just ruggedly handsome but not worth any paparazzi’s time.

So, before wishing upon a star, watch what you are asking for, for you might just get it!

Alain