Some people run with the Olympic Torch, but I drank one. Sorry to disappoint you boss, but I survived, although doing this more than once could make you feel mighty ill. The next morning, that is.
See, this Olympic Torch is a drink, not the famous symbol, although it does have flames. It came our way after last night's Barenaked Ladies concert at the Olympic Medals Plaza. Your servant and a few sportswriter pals repaired to the Dead Goat Saloon for a restorative to thaw our frozen tootsies.
By the way, the Barenaked Ladies were spectacular. For a bunch of guys who look like they should be sitting around somebody's basement rec room in Scarborough, they put on a hell of a show. The fans at the jam-packed stadium thought so, too.
Of course, by now you've seen the clips of Jamie Salé jumping on stage and strumming a guitar with the boys in the band. We missed that part because you had us working late again, but we were in time for the chicken dance and to see guitarist Ed Robertson strip down to a Canadian speed-skating suit and play the banjo.
By the time they played If I Had a Million Dollars for the encore, all agreed it was easily the best Canadian performance at the Games.
As for the Olympic Torch, you'll remember the Dead Goat Saloon from Eric Duhatschek's postcard last week. Kelley, the waitress, and Amber, the manager, were glad to see your overworked staff because a friend in Prague saw Eric's postcard on globeandmail.com and e-mailed it to them.
Well, they were a little cool to Eric because of that crack about greasy fries, but your servant's charm soon smoothed things over. That's when Kelley brought over a tray of Olympic Torches.
These were cooked up by the Dead Goat staff for the Games, of course, although it's unclear if they are officially approved by the IOC. But if it's a problem, I'm sure the nabobs will be satisfied with the usual free samples for the rest of the Games. An Olympic Torch consists of two parts: half a glass of draft beer and a full shot glass of flaming amoretto. You carefully pick up the amoretto, drop it into the beer, shot glass and all, then chug the contents.
All together not a bad tipple, although we stopped at one, knowing that duty calls very early in the morning, not to mention your intransigence on expense accounts.
Yours in sport