1 p.m., River Po, Turin
As I go out for only my second run in two weeks here, I can’t help thinking about the Bank of America Gasparilla Distance Classic races coming up this weekend. The last time I missed these races, I was in Salt Lake City for the 2002 Winter Games. No, I wasn’t planning on running any of them, including Sunday’s marathon. That in itself is pretty sad considering the kind of miles I used to log before I turned 39 and the lug nuts fell off my wheels. Now, I’m happy to run with nothing sore or strained.
I’ve only done a couple of Gasparillas because I’m always covering the race for the paper. One year I did both but that’s when I could do Gasparilla in 52 minutes and have plenty of time to track down the winners. Still, even though I’m slow now, Gasparilla is one of my favorite events to cover. It’s so awesome to see thousands of people in Tampa getting off their backsides and exercising and having a great time doing it. After you finish Gasparilla this weekend, thank race director Susan Harmeling, her staff, all the volunteers and the city for doing a great job of pulling it together again.
What I really miss is running Bayshore Boulevard and Davis Islands. I don’t miss the cars going 70 mph down Bayshore or the exhaust they produce, but I miss that 4 miles of sidewalk, grass and water—along with the occasional manatee or dolphin—along the side of Bayshore.
Here in Turin, I’ve found a pretty good substitute for Bayshore. It’s the jogging path along the River Po, which also goes for miles and miles through the city. They’ve even got it marked off every 100 meters. And the best thing is, the weather here tends to be a lot better than Tampa for running. I’ll take 40 degrees and overcast over 85, muggy and the sun blazing down on you any day. The running path here seems just as popular with runners and joggers (yes, there is a difference) and walkers as Bayshore. Best part is, there are loads of new sights along the River Po for me to see. I swear, I’ve done so many miles on Bayshore I think I could run down the grass path blindfolded and know where every divet and sprinkler head is.
PROVIDENCE, R.I. - The season that couldn’t possibly get any worse did. Although University of South Florida coach Robert McCullum, senior James Holmes and junior Melvin Buckley didn’t agree, I think the Bulls quit at Providence. They lost by 21 to a Providence team that had won its other four Big East games by a total of 20 points. Perhaps, we should be surprised this kind of game didn’t happen earlier in the season but the string of losses and Big East schedule has finally taken its toll.
INSULT TO INJURY: McCullum said senior center Solomon Jones injured a knee during Sunday’s practice. The injury is not serious enough that it will require surgery, McCullum said, but limits Jones’ leaping ability. Jones also took an elbow to the mouth in the first half, requiring four stitches at halftime. Then before the game sophomore guard Collin Dennis was throwing up because of the flu. I have no idea how many Bulls threw up after that performance.
ANSWERING E-MAIL: “Why does McCullum still have a job? Seriously, I could probably coach this team better than he can. Enough of the BS about him being this great motivator. There are coaches out there, Quin Snyder, Mike Davis From Indiana, Bob Huggins that would be a perfect fit down here. We need an energetic coach and a young one to match the enthusiasm that Coach Leavitt has done with our football team. I mean really. Sincerely, One Disgusted Bulls Alumnus.”
Once again, Disgusted Bulls Alumnus, if you want a new coach then give USF about $600,000-$700,000 to pay off McCullum’s final three years and throw in another $1 million to help go toward paying the new coach.
ODDS AND ENDS: Trivia question: This is USF’s 35th season. How many 20-loss seasons have the Bulls had? Also, how many 20-win seasons? ... USF play-by-play announcer T.J. Rives’ take: “It’s the same story. The Bulls didn’t play well enough to beat a hungry team.” ... Trivia answer: This year marks the sixth 20-loss season in school history (1979-80, 1986-87, 1987-88, 1988-89, 2003-04 and 2005-06). By comparison, USF has had only two 20-win seasons (1982-83 and 1989-90). ... With four NBA scouts in attendance Tuesday at the Dunkin’ Donuts Center, Jones couldn’t have picked a worse game to have season lows in points (three) and rebounds (three).
Near the medals plaza, I finally sampled the thing Turin is famous for besides the Shroud—chocolate. 
There was a whole row of kiosks selling all sorts of chocolate in all sorts of forms, including liquid chocolate. My favorite was a chocolate fondue machine they were selling for 75 Euro, or about $85. It melted the chocolate and sent it streaming out of a fountain. Yummmmmm. There were chocolate liqouers, chocolate coffees, chocolate mousse, chocolate sculptures and these big blocks of chocolate that must have weighed 2 or 3 pounds each. If you lived here, you would have to have a strong will to avoid being a chocoholic.
As I headed back to my car to get to speed skating on time, I saw all these Olympic tourists heading to various restaurants and pizzerias. 
That’s another thing that kills me: no time to properly enjoy the local cuisine. I’ve had one good sit-down dinner here that was out of this world. But even then, it was in the mall near the press center and the whole time, I kept looking at my watch.
Speaking of which, it’s time to switch gears and write some stories for the Tribune. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll get a good meal, or the day after that, or maybe on my last day here…probably not.
Near the medals plaza, I finally sampled the thing Turin is famous for besides the Shroud—chocolate. There was a whole row of kiosks selling all sorts of chocolate in all sorts of forms, including liquid chocolate. My favorite was a chocolate fondue machine they were selling for 75 Euro, or about $85. It melted the chocolate and sent it streaming out of a fountain. Yummmmmm. There were chocolate liqouers, chocolate coffees, chocolate mousse, chocolate sculptures and these big blocks of chocolate that must have weighed 2 or 3 pounds each. If you lived here, you would have to have a strong will to avoid being a chocoholic.
As I headed back to my car to get to speed skating on time, I saw all these Olympic tourists heading to various restaurants and pizzerias. That’s another thing that kills me: no time to properly enjoy the local cuisine. I’ve had one good sit-down dinner here that was out of this world. But even then, it was in the mall near the press center and the whole time, I kept looking at my watch.
Speaking of which, it’s time to switch gears and write some stories for the Tribune. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll get a good meal, or the day after that, or maybe on my last day here…probably not.
1 p.m., central Turin 
Every time I go to cover an Olympics, people always say to me “Oh, wow, you’re going to see all the sights and have so much fun and eat at some fabulous restaurants and go to some nightclubs. Can I go with you?” It’s no point telling them how you don’t really have time to take in the sights and nightlife of cities like Sydney, Athens and Turin when you’re covering the Games. Yes, I go to see the famous monuments and buildings, but that’s usually all done in a single day before the Games begin. And even when I do, I always feel rushed, like Chevy Chase in Vacation, when he finally gets to the Grand Canyon, stands there for a few seconds looking at it and says “Ok, kids, we’ve seen it, let’s go.” 
Today, I went into central Turin with just a couple of hours to see some sights. I decided I wanted to see the actual medals plaza near Piazza Reale, where they hand out the medals from the previous day’s events in a special ceremony. Along the way, I stopped and took some photos for this blog and for the panoramas I’m making here. If you haven’t seen those panoramas, they’re pretty cool. You can go to my multimedia page and check them out.
Along the way, I saw the usual dozen or so broken down bikes along the sidewalk. 
These appear to be holdovers from the 1950s. You still see people riding the oldest, rustiest old bikes down the street in traffic here, usually with the rider wearing no helmet. I have yet to see some hi-tech bike or hybrid, like the kind you see being used by couriers in London. Scooters seem to be the preferred mode of transit for the couriers here. Anything is faster than a car. There’s so much traffic here, day and night, I can’t imagine how people stand it. I guess that’s why the trams and buses are always packed to the gills.
4 p.m., Sestriere
Well, the men’s giant slalom is over and no American, including Bode Miller, made it to the podium. He had a good second run but his first one put him in too much of a hole to have a chance against the Austrians.
Afterward, I met a really friendly couple, Andrea Russo and Joy Magtoto from London. Actually, she is an American and he’s Italian. But they both work and live in London as bankers. Joy had an American flag and Andrea carried an Italian one. And they both had little to cheer about since neither team lived up to their pre-Games hype. Joy said she felt pretty bummed about Bode’s performances here so far, especially since she says she bragged about how many medals Bode was going to win to a Japanese TV station. Andrea was discouraged with the Italians’ results on their home turf.
But hey, they were in Sestriere watching the Olympics, who could complain. As they headed off to find a bite to eat, I envied them. Here they were having a great time together and not working. That banking thing must pay pretty good, huh?
“When you heard Curt Gowdy call a game, you knew it was a big game,†said Dick Ebersol, chairman, NBC Universal Sports & Olympics.
That describes Gowdy, who died Monday at the age of 86. Whether it was baseball, football or hunting with a president, when you heard that monotone voice—you watched.
“Curt was a remarkable talent. For many years, he literally carried NBC Sports on his back as the signature voice for both major league baseball and the NFL,†Ebersol said.
Gowdy was best known for his 10-year stint as play-by-play commentator for NBC’s “MLB Game of the Week”—back in the days when it was the only game on television—and on its World Series broadcasts. He also served as the lead play-by-play commentator for NBC’s NFL coverage, which included broadcasting seven Super Bowls for NBC.
I can remember as a teenager living in Cincinnati watching and listening to Gowdy during the Big Red Machine’s World Series games in the ’70s. He never got overly excited and never screamed—but always made you listen.
But I think I remember him more from his days as host of “American Sportsman†that aired on ABC. It was fun to watch him hunt with professional athletes or fish with former presidents. I’m not much of an outdoorsman, but I watched.
“Curt Gowdy was a pioneer in our business and set the highest of standards for everyone in sports broadcasting,†said George Bodenheimer, president, ESPN, Inc. and ABC Sports. “His many contributions to ABC, as host of “American Sportsman†and other ABC Sports programs, are indelible.â€
Although retired, he will be missed. He was truly a legend in sports.
1 p.m., Sestriere
Holy Cow! The drive from Turin to Sestriere might have been the most white-knuckle experience of my life. After you get to Penerolo, the next 35 miles or so is a two-lane road that winds up, over and around the Alps. There’s loads of traffic as people head up to the men’s giant slalom and the road is about as wide as a typical residential street in Tampa. Difference is, it’s covered with all this melting snow from yesterday, so it’s wet and slick. Every fifth vehicle is a massive tour bus and when one comes toward you from the opposite direction, you just cringe.
The road contains some insane hairpin turns and it seems like you’re always shifting up and down. And it seems you’re always in second or third gear, never in fourth or fifth. If you hit overdrive on this road, they should check that person’s head. One time, I had to come to a complete stop as a large bus swung wide and was barely able to stay on the road. The really crazy part is I saw people passing other cars on blind corners. To go the final 35 miles took more than an hour.
Once I got to Sestriere, I understood why Bode Miller is reportedly partying here. This little ski resort town is hopping like Park City did atthe Salt Lake Games in 2002. There’s a disco here called “Tabata” that Bode has
reportedly hung out in this week. I tend to take that with a big grain of salt but I did see a DJ’s name I recognized who is spinning tunes here this week, Joe Vanelli. He’s pretty big in Europe and I think I still have some of his mixes on tape or CD. Wish I could hang out here, too, if Vanelli is DJ’ing.
Over at the ski venue, almost 10,000 fans packed the stands and another couple thousand were along the final section of the course. Let me say this about people who ski down these mountains: I have a new-found respect for them. Television does not show how steep the mountain is or just how fast they a re coming down the mountain. They are amazing athletes to be able to get down to the bottom in a mater of a couple of minutes without breaking any bones. No wonder people go nuts at these events.
11 a.m.
It’s time to head to Sestriere, about 65 miles away from Turin.
Bode Miller is skiing the giant slalom today and I want to see if he can win his first medal of the Games. That may not sound like very far to go, but more than half of it will be on a rather treacherous two-lane road that winds through the mountains. You know that Michael Cain movie “The Italian Job,” the one where they nearly go over the edge of the mountain in the final scene of the movie? That was filmed here in the Italian Alps. This will be my biggest driving challenge yet of the Olympics—besides trying to find a parking place in Turin.
5 p.m., Central Turin
For the first time since I arrived in Turin, snow fell on the city – loads of it. I have never been a big city where there was snow and it really made it look beautiful. All the Renaissance and Baroque-style buildings in the central part of the city were covered with a thick layer of snow and as night fell, it sort of felt like a real Christmas. The snow came down so thick, I could draw “Tampa Tribune” on the windshield of my rental car. And then some German-speaking guy in his 20s came up and saw what I was doing. So he drew a picture of something most people would consider obscene on my hood. I was so surprised he did that, I could only laugh, and so did he. Don’t tell the Italian authorities, but I think he might have been drinking. That’s just a theory.
Being a Floridian, however, I didn’t realize there’s a down-side to all this white stuff. It’s not like Charley Brown’s Christmas, where you run around and catch snowflakes on your tongue with no repercussions. When snow gets on you, it melts. And that gets you wet. No wonder people were using umbrellas – duh. Of course, I brought everything in my suitcase except that. But no worries, tomorrow is suppose to be a sunny day here and that’s good news if you’re covering outdoor Olympic events.
Eventually, I’d like to make it down to the medals plaza at Piazaa Castello. It’s suposed to be a wild scene and tonight, thousands of people stood outside in the driving snow to see Shani Davis and Joey Cheek receive their speed skating gold and silver medals, respectively. It must have been a blast for the fans but all I could think when I saw it on television back at the MPC is “are those people nuts for standing out there for hours?” Maybe they’re a little crazy, but doing something a little off-beat is what a lot of Olympic fans come here for—to wear goofy hats, paint their faces and cheer for their country in freezing weather.
Sorry to say, but it looks like we’re in for more of “Eddie’s not in heaven,†later today when WWE offers up its annual No Way Out pay-per-view. And to make matters worse, it now appears that members of Eddie’s family are being drawn into the storyline.
Yes, that’s right. Word has it that Eddie’s wife, Vickie, his nephew, Chavo, and maybe even his kids will be involved in an angle set to take place during the main event match between Randy Orton and Rey Mysterio.
When will this end? When will someone have enough guts to stand up to WWE management and say “enough is enough?â€
Oh, that’s right. In the WWE you never cross the boss. And in this case, it’s obvious no one is willing to go against the man who signs their paychecks—even if it means standing up for something, or someone, you really believe in.
Obviously bothered by the storyline about his late friend, Mysterio had this to say during a recent interview with the Baltimore Sun: “It’s hard to hear what has to be said from Randy. Eddie Guerrero had such an impact on the fans, on the company, on the [wrestlers]. He was loved by everybody. But I think the most important thing is that his wife has a lot of say in this. If she’s comfortable with all of this being done…she knew Eddie very well, and I think Eddie would want this to continue as long as it could. I think he’s up in heaven, and he’s enjoying every single moment.â€
Excuse me, Rey, but I think you missed it on at least two points. First, I’m not too sure that what Orton is saying really “has to be said.†And second, even if his wife is “comfortable†with all of what’s going on, I really don’t believe Eddie Guerrero would be so willing to sign off on such a degrading storyline. Sure, Eddie didn’t mind exposing his past life, and talking about his hard-fought battle to overcome alcohol and drugs to win back his life and family. That was the point—he fought, and he won! And he was proud of it. He was also proud of the fact that his struggles led to a new life as a born-again Christian, and so were many of his friends who had faced some of the same demons and knew what Eddie had gone through.
This whole storyline makes what Eddie fought for seem pointless and casts him in a very bad light. Eddie was not a loser in the end. And I don’t believe he would want to be portrayed as such. No, Rey, I don’t think Eddie is enjoying any part of this. And neither should you, his family, or those pencil pushers writing the scripts.
Why can’t they just let Eddie Guerrero rest in peace?
Bret Hart has agreed to become an inductee in the WWE Hall of Fame.
So, why am I not surprised? I’m not surprised because, in all my years of covering this sport, the one thing I’ve found to be true is that where wrestling is concerned you really should “never say never.â€
For years, Hart was the crowning star in that hat of what was then the World Wrestling Federation. And for years since making his exit, the former WWF champion has been at odds with owner Vince McMahon. At the heart of Hart’s anger has been, of course, the embarrassing way in which his career with the WWF ended in 1997 after he was publicly humiliated during a controversial title loss in Montreal during the live Survivor Series pay-per-view. Second was the untimely death of Hart’s younger brother, Owen, who died in 1999 after falling from the rafters while performing a stunt during a WWF show in Kansas City, Mo. Hart blamed the WWF for his brother’s death.
Much time has passed since then, and many things have changed. Hart reportedly has still not mended all the fences with his former boss, and as such, is sticking by his word to “never†work for the company again. And for that reason, he apparently will not be compensated in any way for agreeing to become an inductee other than to have the company pay expenses for him and his wife to travel to Chicago for the ceremonies on April 1, the evening before Wrestlemania 22.
The one thing that has not changed, though, is the legacy Hart left behind as the self-proclaimed “best there is, best there was, best there ever will be.†His contributions to the history of the WWE are right up there with the likes of other inductees like Hulk Hogan, Harley Race, Jesse Ventura, Superstar Billy Graham and Andre the Giant.
Despite all the drama involved, Hart has earned a spot in the WWE Hall of Fame. He’s right to take it.
That’s my take on the matter. What’s yours?
5:30 a.m., Via Spotorno, south Turin
Here’s a vital travel tip: if you bring your home set of keys with you on a trip, make sure you leave them packed away in your suitcase. Otherwise, you might wind up like me early this morning in frosty Turin—locked out of your apartment and feeling like a total dork.
Here’s how it all happened: After trudging up to my apartment and dumping all my gear on the living room sofa, I realized I had left a guide book on Turin I needed downstairs in the car. So I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. As I pulled the door behind me closed, I opened my hand and looked at the set of keys I had taken—my home keys! Terror shot through me. I turned around and tried to use one of my home keys to get back in, as if one of those would work in a lock that takes a skeleton key. No chance.
There I stood, wearing no jacket, no identification, no cell phone—just a sweater, jeans and sneakers. I was locked out of the apartment with no way to call anyone for help. The company that rented me the flat had given me a 24-hour number to call in case of emergency, but it was inside the apartment. I had the number in an e-mail but without my ID, I wouldn’t be able to get inside the the Main Press Center to retrieve it. And even if I could call home, it was midnight back in Tampa and no one was at home or work.
With few options, I headed toward the MPC—minus a coat—hoping I could talk my way inside. I got to the security gate and the guard there was watching a movie on his portable DVD player. He let me in his little heated room and, speaking what little English he knew, figured out my emergency. So who did he call? Not a locksmith, not more security and not even the Ghost Busters. No, when you get locked out of your house in Italy, apparently it’s the fire department, known here as “Vigili del Fuoco,” who come to your rescue.
I gave the guard the address to my apartment and he told me to go wait there for the fire truck. He asked “are you freddo [cold]?” and I assured him that being from Florida, yea, I was freezing. So he gave me his coat to wear and wait for the fire department outside the door of my apartment. About 20 minutes later, an Italian fire truck comes down the street (the wrong way) and I wave them down.
Out pop four firemen in full fire gear—rubber boots, coasts and pants. All that was missing were hoses and axes. As usual, nobody speaks English but me. But I have slowly learned here that the passable French I know, along with the bits of Spanish I have learned living in Florida, is sometimes close to Italian. So up we go, four firemen and one goober American, four flights of stairs. I told them in English “I bet it’s never the first for you guys, is it?” Not a laugh or a grin from any of them. We finally get to my floor and the break-in is on.
One of the firemen pulls out what looks like a plastic x-ray sheet and he slips it between the door jam and lock. Another fireman holds a flashlight, another one starts slamming his shoulder in the door (I feared they’d wake the neighbors and then everyone would in the apartment block would be ticked at the tourist) and the fourth guy, who looked to be the top-ranking fireman, appeared to suggested different tactics on the unyielding door. Then he asked me in sign language if the doorknob turned when it closed. In similar hand gestures, I tried to tell him the door pulled closed. They all stopped to watch me, then went to work on it again.
After about 10 minutes of jimmying the lock with the plastic sheet and pounding the door, it sprung open. What a relief! One of the firemen headed back down to the truck and the remaining three went inside the apartment with me. I figured I’d just show some sort of ID and that would be the end of my ordeal. But I soon learned we had paperwork to do. “Documents?” the head fireman asks. I produce my Olympic ID, my passport, the rental agreement for the apartment and, for good measure, the international driver’s license I got at AAA. No one has yet to ask for that but I showed it to head fireman anyway.
About 10 minutes later, when they are assured that I really do belong in this place, I sign a piece of paper, they gather up their things and head for the door. Making the gesture for the international symbol of money—opening my wallet—I asked if I owed them anything. The head guy shakes his head no. I wanted to give them a Tampa Tribune pin, like the kind I had brought to hand out at the Athens Games, but I never got around to having some made before I left for Italy. So I dug into my souvenirs bag and found some Visa Turin Olympic pins I had bought last week at one of the official merchandise stores.
I had three of those pins and one pin from the Chicago Tribune group of newspapers that a friend had given me here. That pin just says “Tribune” on it and I handed it to the head fireman. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that wasn’t my Tribune on the pin because he looked so happy to make the connection between the name of the newspaper name on my ID and the name on the pin.
I thanked them profusely with a half dozen “Grazie Mille” (thank you very much) and off they went, probably to help some other locked-out tourist or stranded kitten. Then I grabbed the right keys, a coat and trudged back to the MPC to give the guard his jacket back. I tried to offer him a 10 Euro note as a sign of gratitude, but he refused to accept it. So I gave him a pin, too, a USA Olympic pin I had bought.
By now, it was nearly 7 in the morning and it was getting light outside. As I crawed into bed for a few hours sleep, I wondered what I would have done if that one person had decided not to help me. Too scarey a thought before bed. I placed my home keys out of harm’s way in one of suitcases and switched off the light and thanked goodness for the kindness of a stranger.
Who would have thought the University of South Florida’s football and basketball teams would finish their inaugural Big East seasons with the same number of wins. Well, that’s what’s going to happen unless the Bulls pull off an upset at Providence or Rutgers, both fighting to qualify for the Big East Tournament, or stun nationally ranked Georgetown or Connecticut. If USF loses out, the Bulls will finish with a school record worst 6-23 record and an 18-game losing streak. Oh, the Humanity!
FREE FRANE! Now that the Bulls have been officially eliminated from the Big East Tournament, it will be interesting to see if freshman center Frane Markusovic gets any playing time in the final four games. He has played a total of three minutes in two games this season, but since he played one minute at Syracuse Jan. 8 he can not be redshirted. Throw him out there, let him get some game experience. It might pay off down the road. What do the Bulls have to lose? It can’t get any worse - can it?
BIG BIRD SIGHTING: Former USF center Will McDonald attended Saturday’s game. He was with his father, Will Sr., who has moved to Florida after his New Orleans home was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. McDonald is playing overseas in Madrid, Spain, but had a couple of days off so he flew to Tampa to visit his father and came to the USF-Rutgers contest. Also attending Saturday’s contest was former USF assistant Brian Yankelevitz.
TRIVIA: Name the only person who played for both USF and Rutgers?
LOVING C-DOA: Perhaps there is no team happier that the Big East took five teams from Conference USA more than Rutgers. The Scarlet Knights are 4-1 against former C-DOA teams - Cincinnati, DePaul, Louisville, Syracuse and USF - with another game remaining against USF Feb. 26.
ODDS AND ENDS: Rutgers’ win at USF Saturday was only the Scarlet Knights’ fourth in their past 38 Big East road games. ... USF play-by-play announcer T.J. Rives’ take: “Despite playing against the league’s leading scorer it’s very disappointing that a game that was very winnable, goes by the wayside at home because they didn’t play well enough to win.” ... Trivia answer: Sam Sanders played at Rutgers in 1997-99 before transferring to USF, where he played from 1999-2001. ... In his last two games, Melvin Buckley is 3-for-18 (16 percent). In his last seven games, James Holmes is 32-for-109 (29 percent). ... Rutgers coach Gary Waters is 2-0 against USF’s Robert McCullum. Besides Saturday, Waters’ Kent State team defeated McCullum’s Western Michigan club in 2001.
2 p.m., Museo della Sacra Sindone, Turin
Today, I finally went to see the one thing most people know Turin for – the Holy Shroud of Turin at the Museo della Sindone. Some say it was Jesus’ burial cloth. Others say it is a fake. Scientists keep contradicting one another and carbon dating has proved inconclusive.
Thing is, what I saw today was only a reproduction of the shrod. The real one is kept locked up out of sight at the Cappella della Sacra Sindone inside the Duomo di San Giovanni. That’s because there were fears light and air were rapidly deteriorating the fabric. The next scheduled public viewing of the real shroud isn’t until 2025. With nearly a million visitors here for the Olympics, one would think they might make an exception and have a special viewing. But that’s not the case and I likely will never see the real thing.
Not to worry. The chapel the copy is housed in is a thing of beauty and to be able to sit and look at the magnificent fresco painted on the ceiling is enough for me.
While I was coming out, I met three Americans heading in for a look at the copy of the shroud—Victoria Haley, 24, of Boston, Jessica Archibald, 32, from Hillsborough, Calif., and Lara Rubin, 38, from New York City. Jessica was the first one I noticed because she was wearing this Martian-style wiggly springs on her head with USA stars and stripes. I thought it was odd headgear for a visit to the shroud, even if it is only a copy. I think she forgot she was wearing them. I can only imagine what the church sister thought as she came in wearing those things.
Victoria told me she had been to Italy several times before because she heads up groups that tour Italy, as well as other parts of Europe. They said they had to do something “cultural” today and this was it. Then they were headed to speed skating for something not so cultural, a sport that’s essentially roller derby on ice.
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