5 Winter Sports The Olympics Are Missing

Getty Images
Getty Images

Winter sports fall into three convenient categories: Hockey, Things That Claim to Not Be Hockey But Aren't Fooling Anyone (bandy, ringette, broomball, etc.) and Things That are Not Hockey. If you're scanning the latter group for a way to stay fit this winter, you may be disappointed by the apparent dearth of options that don't require snowmobile ownership or expensive ski lift tickets. Before giving up entirely or resorting to hockey, consider trying one of these underappreciated snowy-day activities.

1. Skijoring

It only takes one ill-fated ski tour or impulsive NordicTrack purchase to expose the true nature of cross-country skiing. It's hard, grueling work. Although its proponents tout the sport as a wonderful way to experience the sights and sounds of winter, these sights usually involve fogged goggles while the sounds are the skier's own grunting and repeated calls of "Dude, can we take another little break? I just need to catch my breath. Yes, again." The whole endeavor would be so much more enjoyable with some sort of pack animal to drag the skier.

That's where skijoring comes in. Instead of powering themselves along using their own legs like a bunch of common animals, participants hitch themselves to a dog or two and glide through the winter weather. Although this activity sounds like the invention of people who wanted to get into sled dog racing but were too cheap to buy a sled, the sport supposedly originated in Scandinavia several hundred years ago as an easy reindeer-powered way to get around during the winter. Its recreational popularity steadily increased, and the horse-drawn variety earned a featured place as a demonstration sport at the 1928 Winter Olympics in St. Moritz, Switzerland, which still holds annual equestrian skijoring races as part of its century-old White Turf series.

2. Skibobbing

"Lousy bike! I could ride you in the winter if your tires were replaced by skis!" Millions of frustrated bikers find themselves muttering these words every snowy day. Little do they know that skibobbing could solve all of their problems, or at least the ones unrelated to cursing inanimate objects. At its core, skibobbing entails riding a bicycle-like frame with skis instead of wheels down a mountain. Really, that's pretty much all it entails.

The sport traces its origins to 1892, when American J. Stevens received a patent for his "ice velocopide." This catchy name somehow failed to trigger widespread use of the device, though, and according the Skibob Association of Great Britain, the sport only gained momentum in the 1940s when patents by German Georg Gfaller and Austrian Engelbert Brenter were combined to form the modern skibob. Enthusiasts competed in the first international race in 1954 and formed the Federation International de Skibob in 1961.

Since the rider's center of gravity remains lower than in regular skiing and the feet and skis combine for four potential points of contact with the ground, skibobbing is relatively safe compared to other downhill sports, and prospective riders can supposedly get the hang of it fairly quickly. Riders shouldn't expect to look cool while doing it, though; the American Skibob Instructors Association recommends wearing a fanny pack of maintenance supplies when skibobbing.

3. Snowball Fighting, Military-Style

History lessons on the American Civil War tend to focus on its depressing aspects: a divided country, rampant gangrene, and Ken Burns appear prominently in most classes. However, despite schedules packed with receiving shoddy medical care and standing still for minutes on end to have their photos taken, some Confederate soldiers found the time to stage what sounds like one of the most strategically sound snowball fights in history.

On January 28, 1863, two feet of snow covered a large contingent of Confederate troops camped in Virginia's Rappahannock Valley. Rather than complaining about the cold weather, the First and Fourth Texas Infantry put their military training to work. On the morning of January 29, they launched a major snowball offensive against their comrades in the Fifth Texas Infantry, who somehow repelled their attackers before deciding to join them in a snow assault on the Third Arkansas Infantry, which surrendered quickly beneath a slushy barrage. The conquered Arkansans joined forces with the victors, and together they set out to pelt the encampment of the nearby Georgia Brigade.

This combined expeditionary force rolled into the Georgian camp armed with bags of snowballs and decorated with battle flags, but the Georgia Brigade had received advance notice and managed to put up a valiant fight for over an hour before eventually falling. The defeated Georgians joined their conquerors and attacking another division. By this point, upwards of 9000 troops were engaged in ice combat that grew increasingly more dangerous as rock-centered snowballs entered the mix.

After hours of this melee, the Texas Brigade apparently won a Pyrrhic victory in which many soldiers sustained slight injuries. In response to the upheaval and the disfigurement of a few troops, General James Longstreet, commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, reportedly banned snowball fighting.

4. Wok Racing

Most people look at a wok and see a cumbersome Chinese cooking vessel they probably shouldn't have put on their wedding gift registry. In 2003 German TV host Stefan Raab looked at one and saw not just a pot in which he could create a delicious stir fry, but also a valid form of downhill conveyance. I don't want to resort to hyperbole and use the word "hero," but, well, the facts speak for themselves. Fans hail Raab as the father of the sport in which single contestants or four-man teams ride reinforced Chinese woks down a bobsled track in timed runs that can exceed 60 mph.

As part of a bet, Raab organized the first wok world championship races at Winterberg in Novbember 2003. Not surprisingly, he also won the first world championship in the sport he'd just made up. Raab's reign at the top was brief, though, as fellow German and three-time Olympic luge gold medalist George Hackl brought his considerable riding-things-down-an-icy-tube prowess to the sport and grabbed the next two world championships. The Jamaican Bobsled Team has also made appearances at the annual championship, thereby igniting speculation that the team probably didn't invest the royalties from Cool Runnings all that wisely.

5. Shovel Racing

Unfortunately, there are significant barriers to entering the wild world of wok racing. Not everyone has a spare wok, and even fewer potential racers have access to an Olympic bobsled track. For those who are completely hell-bent on outrunning their friends while riding a household item, shovel racing may be the answer.

Ski slope workers around Angel Fire, New Mexico supposedly began shovel racing in the early 1970s in an effort to get down the slopes quickly after the lifts had closed for the evening. The logic behind why they chose to stick a shovel handle between their legs and slide down the mountains on their rears rather than using skis seems to have been lost to history.

However, it is known that in 1975, Angel Fire Resort began hosting the World Shovel Racing Championships, which offered competitors the chance to square off in two divisions. In the Production group, racers got a regular old hardware-store shovel, waxed it up, and took off down the slopes using only their arms for steering; riders of these stock shovels could hit speeds over 60 mph. In the Modified division, racers turned their shovels into enclosed aerodynamic crafts that bore little resemblance to their cousins used to clear suburban driveways. These 500-pound vehicles could top out over 70 m.p.h. while shooting down the thousand-foot course.

While it may seem difficult to believe, riding a shovel at such high speeds is somewhat dangerous. More specifically, it's incredibly dangerous. In super-modified shovel racing's lone appearance at ESPN's Winter X Games in 1997, leading racers Gail Boles and John Shrader experienced separate horrific crashes in which Boles was knocked unconscious and Shrader broke his back in three places. The sport was not invited back to the games. Even the birthplace of organized shovel racing was forced to abandon the sport; resort administrators eventually cancelled Angel Fire's annual championships in 2005 due to liability concerns. Still, if you've got a shovel, a snowy hill, and no qualms about sticking a shovel handle between your legs, you might want to give it a shot. 

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Remembering Tom Dempsey, the Toeless NFL Kicker Who Set a 43-Year Field Goal Record

Kicker Tom Dempsey #19 of the Philadelphia Eagles kicks off against the Washington Redskins during an NFL football game at Veterans Stadium November 10, 1974 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Kicker Tom Dempsey #19 of the Philadelphia Eagles kicks off against the Washington Redskins during an NFL football game at Veterans Stadium November 10, 1974 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Focus on Sport/Getty Images

On April 4, 2020 former NFL legend Tom Dempsey—who set a field goal record with the New Orleans Saints nearly 50 years ago—passed away in New Orleans at the age of 73. It has been reported that Dempsey, who has been battling Alzheimer's disease and dementia since 2012, contracted coronavirus in March and his death was the result of complications from COVID-19. Read on to learn more about Dempsey's remarkable life.

 
 

Things weren't looking good for the New Orleans Saints on the evening of November 8, 1970, during a televised game against the Detroit Lions at Tulane Stadium. Though Saints quarterback Billy Kilmer had managed to connect with receiver Al Dodd on a 17-yard pass that stopped the clock, New Orleans was still down 17-16 with just two seconds left in the game. Worse yet, they were on their own 37-yard line—leaving 63 yards between them and the end zone.

Saints head coach J.D. Roberts, who had only been hired the week before, huddled with offensive coordinator Don Heinrich to quickly consider their options. There weren’t any. Suddenly, kicker Tom Dempsey, who had joined the team the year before, materialized. “I can kick it,” Dempsey told Roberts.

Dempsey would later recall that he didn’t know exactly how far the ball had to travel or that it would be an NFL record if he nailed it. If he had, he said, maybe he would’ve gotten too nervous and shanked it. But kicking the ball was what Dempsey did, even though he was born with only half of a right foot.

Heinrich sighed. There was no other choice. “Tell Stumpy to get ready,” he said.

 

Dempsey was born on January 12, 1947, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and later moved with his family to California. As a student at San Dieguito High School in Encinitas, California, Dempsey appeared unbothered by the congenital defect that resulted in a partial right foot and four missing fingers on his right hand. Dempsey wrestled and ran track. In football, he used his burly frame—he would eventually be 6 feet, 2 inches tall and weigh 255 pounds—to clobber opposing players as an offensive lineman. When coaches wanted to send opponents flying, they called in Dempsey.

After high school, Dempsey went on to attend Palomar Junior College in San Marcos, California, where he played football as a defensive end. At one point, when the team was in need of a kicker, the coach asked his players to line up and do their best to send the ball in the air. None kicked harder or farther than Dempsey, who became the kicker for the team and performed while barefoot, wrapping the end of his foot in athletic tape.

Tom Dempsey's modified football shoe is pictured
Tom Dempsey's modified football shoe.
Bullock Texas State History Museum

Playing at Palomar prepared Dempsey for a dual role as both lineman and kicker. But his strength, which made him so formidable on the field, occasionally got him into trouble on the sidelines, and he would eventually be kicked off the Palomar team for punching one of his coaches. After the incident, Dempsey tried out for the Green Bay Packers but found the physicality of professional players a little too much for him to handle. Rather than get into on-field collisions as an offensive lineman, he decided to focus solely on the aptitude he seemed to have for kicking. He eventually earned a spot on the San Diego Chargers practice squad in 1968. There, head coach Sid Gillman decided to encourage his choice of position—with some modifications.

Gillman enlisted an orthopedist to help develop a special leather shoe for Dempsey to wear. The boot had a block of leather 1.75 inches thick at one end and was mostly flat. Instead of kicking it soccer-style, as most players do today, Dempsey was able to use his leg like a mallet and hammer the ball with a flat, blunt surface.

The shoe, which cost $200 to fabricate, came in handy when Dempsey joined the Saints in 1969. He made 22 out of 41 field goals his rookie year and found himself in the Pro Bowl. But the 1970 season was comparatively dismal, and the Saints were holding a 1-5-1 record when they met the Detroit Lions on that night in November.

With two seconds left, “Stumpy” (Dempsey found the nickname affectionate rather than offensive) trotted onto the field. At 63 yards, he would have to best the then-record set by Baltimore Colts kicker Bert Rechichar in 1953 by seven yards.

No one appeared to think this was within the realm of possibility—you could almost hear a chuckle in CBS commentator Don Criqui's voice when he announced that Dempsey would be attempting the feat. Even the Lions seemed apathetic, not overly concerned with attempting to smother the play.

The ball was snapped by Jackie Burkett and received by Joe Scarpati, who gave it a quarter-turn. Dempsey remembered advice once given to him by kicking legend Lou “The Toe” Groza: Keep your head down and follow through. He took a step toward the ball and swung his leg like a croquet mallet, smashing into the football with a force that those on or near the field compared to a loud bang or a cannon. It sailed 63 yards to the goal post, which at the time was positioned directly on the goal line, and just made it over the crossbar.

Below, the referee threw his hands in the air to indicate the kick was good, punctuating it with a little hop of excitement. Dempsey was swarmed by his teammates and coaches. Don Criqui’s attitude in the booth quickly switched from amusement to incredulity. The Saints had won, 19-17.

“I don’t believe this,” Criqui exclaimed.

Neither could fans. In an era before instant replay, ESPN, or YouTube, you either caught Dempsey’s game-winning play or you heard about it at work or school the next week. Owing to its fleeting existence in the moment, schoolyards and offices filled with stories about how Dempsey’s boot may have somehow been augmented with a steel plate or other modification to boost his kicking prowess.

No such thing occurred, though that didn’t stop criticism. Tex Schramm, an executive with the Dallas Cowboys and chairman of the NFL’s competition committee, thought the shoe was an unfair advantage that allowed Dempsey to smash the ball like a golf club hitting a dimpled target. In 1977, the NFL instituted the “Tom Dempsey Rule,” which mandates that anyone and everyone has to wear a shoe shaped like a full foot. There would be no more allowances for special orthopedic shapes.

Dempsey appeared to take it all in stride. Shortly after his victorious kick, he received a letter from President Richard Nixon congratulating him on his inspirational demonstration. Immediately after the game, police officers went in to congratulate him by handing him cases of Dixie beer. Dempsey's girlfriend (and future wife) Carlene recalled that he didn’t come home for days due to rampant partying. When he finally settled down, they got married.

 

Dempsey spent a total of 11 years in the NFL, playing for the Saints, the Philadelphia Eagles, the Los Angeles Rams, the Houston Oilers, and finally the Buffalo Bills. In total, he made 159 field goals out of 258 attempts. For the next several decades, he would work as a salesman in the oil industry and manage a car lot before retiring in 2008 and settling down back near New Orleans. Over the years, Dempsey made several appearances at autograph shows, where he was regularly peppered with questions about the one kick that defined his career.

Almost as amazing as the kick was its attrition in the record books. While several other men managed to tie Dempsey’s record, it wasn’t until Matt Prater of the Denver Broncos kicked a 64-yard field goal on December 8, 2013, that it was finally broken—almost 43 years to the day. Some observers note that most of these notable field goals took place in Denver, where the air is thin and presumably more hospitable to kicking for distance. Dempsey managed it in New Orleans—and without toes.

Curiously, Dempsey’s legendary play was actually foreshadowed one year earlier. On October 5, 1969, he kicked a 55-yard field goal in Los Angeles. That was just one yard shy of the record he would obliterate the following year.

6 Times the Olympics Have Been Postponed or Canceled

Sander van Ginkel, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 2.0
Sander van Ginkel, Wikimedia Commons // CC BY-SA 2.0

The 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo have been officially postponed due to the coronavirus pandemic. The International Olympic Committee (IOC) and Prime Minister Shinzo Abe of Japan agreed to push the start date back to 2021 after Canada, Australia, and other countries announced they would not send athletes to the Summer Games this July.

The Summer Olympics is the biggest sporting event in the world, typically bringing more than 10,000 athletes from dozens of countries together every four years, The New York Times reports.

It's extremely rare for the Summer or Winter Olympics to be postponed or canceled. Since 1896, when the modern Olympic Games began, it has happened only six times—and it usually requires a war.

The Olympic Games were canceled during World War I and World War II. The 1940 Summer Games, scheduled to take place in Tokyo, were postponed due to war and moved to Helsinki, Finland, where they were later canceled altogether. The current coronavirus pandemic marks the first time the competition has ever been temporarily postponed for a reason other than war. Here's the full list.

  1. 1916 Summer Olympics // Berlin, Germany
  1. 1940 Summer Olympics // Tokyo, Japan and Helsinki, Finland
  1. 1940 Winter Olympics // Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany
  1. 1944 Summer Olympics // London, United Kingdom
  1. 1944 Winter Olympics // Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy
  1. 2020 Summer Olympics // Tokyo, Japan

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