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Brad Gobright - Fabulous Roman Candle

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Brad Gobright - Fabulous Roman Candle

Besides scaling my parents’ chimney with a friend and a few trips to a climbing gym when I was eleven, I’ve been an armchair rock climber for over thirty years, which was also set off by a middle school gym teacher bringing in his climbing gear for show and tell after he climbed Mt. McKinley/Denali. Every now and then I get the urge to jump back in and see what’s happening on the scene, watch as many videos as I can of climbers and slackliners, and think about energy, being, and the natural world.

I recently found Brad Gobright in a sad fashion, unfortunately on Rock and Ice’s list of “Climbers We Lost in 2019”. His memorial write-up created a vision of a man so intriguing, pure, and one filled with that amazingly youthful spirit which knows no bounds because there just aren’t any. If you get that sentiment, then you get a large piece of Brad’s being, at least as I perceive it.

If you scour the web for any and all of Brad’s projects, you’ll find Cedar Wright’s “Safety Third,” the time lapsed nose speed record, “Gramicci: Brad Gobright climbs hard trad in Indian Creek” (complete with a Dr. Octagon influenced route shout out), the Dreefee vid where you see Brad encourage climber Ben Hanna’s lead, of course other youtube vids and snippets, and all the memories seen on Instagram and site message boards. It’s all such an interesting snapshot of a beautiful character of doing and being what he loved. He was surely loved.

As the title above teases, it is a reference to a quote taken from Kerouac’s “On the Road” and from the quintessential college poster I had on my dorm room wall:

“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue center light pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

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16 Days of Glory | 1984 Olympics

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16 Days of Glory | 1984 Olympics

The 2016 Rio Olympics, however successful and safe they will amount to be, is coming like winter. As is the case with every Olympics, excitement becomes an understatement for tons of athletes, fans, and armchair enthusiasts world-wide. The defeats, wins, and record breaking performances are certainly a spectacle which has been elevated to new heights thanks to social media and tech in general, and let's not forget shameless bravado made popular by the late Muhammad Ali. 

While now is always an impressive time to be in, the past preserves absolute time, complete with layers and layers of all the dirt and refuse, interlaced with deposits of cultural diamonds.

One such diamond is 16 Days of Glory, a documentary of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, directed by Bud Greenspan and narrated by Greenspan's brother, David Perry. Perry's almost computer-like delivery is brilliant and direct, backed with fan cheers, inserted participant dialogue and vignettes, and a musical score, in true '80s form, elicits added emotional connection. The attention and depth of the back stories of athletes are captivating, especially for a wide-eyed seven year old (me watching it for the first time back in '86).

Vignettes include a juxtaposition between Jesse Owens and Carl Lewis, a massive emotional explosion between Bela Karolyi and Mary Lou Retton which reminds me of everyone's reaction to McKayla Maroney's jaw-dropping vault at London's 2012 Games, a beautiful segment with diver Greg Louganis and coach Ron O'Brien, and the chill inducing, heat resisting, stadium entry of Joan Benoit at the end of the first-ever Olympic women's marathon. (Damn, it's good to see that USA on the front of Benoit's jersey as she enters the stadium and also amazing to see the late Grete Waitz come in second.)

16 Days of Glory is not superficially digestible televised candy celebrating forgettable human idiocy, it is a savory treat which educates, mesmerizes, and entertains all at once.

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