Archive - Nov 2012 - Sports Article
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November 30th
By
George Shirk - Times News Editor
It might be the most madcap carnival ride in all of California.
Chair 23, a fixed-grip triple that recently was named among the “Top Seven Iconic Chairlifts in the World” by a notable ski website, rises to the top of the Mammoth Mountain crest as one of the hairiest rides on any ski hill anywhere.
“It’s definitively a sphincter-tightening ride,” said Mammoth Mountain Ski Area CEO Rusty Gregory, who as a young strapper on his way up the chain of command helped build the lift in 1982.
By
Warren Miller — Special to the Times
November 16th
By
George Shirk - Times News Editor
After a hiatus of three seasons, girls basketball is back at Mammoth High School.
In the first tryouts for the new program, 33 girls took a stab at the nets under the watchful eye of new coach William Bauman, a 26-year-old long, tall—really tall—drink of water from Minnesota.
“Basketball is turning a corner in town,” said Bauman, who was recently married to Mammoth local John Eastman’s daughter, Danielle.
“It’s just the greatest sport ever invented.”
Bauman said he played a bit of college hoops before arriving in Mammoth, and is familiar with women’s basketball in particular.
The new track on Benton Crossing Road near the Whitmore Animal Shelter is ready to go.
Its Grand Opening is Saturday, Nov. 17, at noon with members of the Mammoth Track Club, town officials and the track’s main proponent, runner Elaine Smith.
In the dark November night, the snow-struck silence is broken by a cacophony of noise and the floor of the bedroom erupts.
My border collie Skye slams up on top of the bed from the floor, bouncing on her toes, barking at the closed window.
We pull the curtain back, and shine the big flashlight, hastily retrieved from its home under the bed, toward the cars and parking lot just 30 feet from the window.
November 2nd
Plunging one sandaled foot into the knee-deep snow, the other sliding on icy slush and mud, tired from the last two hours of the same, I was starting to dream about warm summer beaches.
I had climbed up this remote canyon north of Bridgeport last Saturday with the devil at my heels, running from winter, chasing gold.
A few months more than a hundred years ago, in the small French village of Megeve, a baker’s wife had a son named Emile.
In the last week, a lot of newspapers and some television news have chronicled the death of 100-year-old Emile Allais. They write about him winning two world championships in the downhill and slalom ski races in 1936 and 1937, as well as an Olympic gold medal in 1936. He would have won a third year in a row if he had not broken his ankle.
