No one is ever going to pick up the Houston Chronicle's sports pages for the sheer joy of reading; the best you can hope for is to get the basic information efficiently, unfettered by clunky current-events references ("The Astros fell to their knees faster than Monica Lewinsky") and free from tortuous puns. You're in luck if the columnist is Jonathan Feigen, who covers the Rockets and the NBA. Feigen writes in a clear, crisp style that sets a scene effectively, but he's not so in love with his wordsmithing that you have to search diligently for relevant facts. His skills translate well to radio, too; when he guests on the local talk shows, he brings a welcome air of common sense and moderation to the shouting matches.
Some athletes are just plain hard to please. Take mountain bike riders, for example. You'd think traversing terrain that might cause a tank commander to rethink his route would be a sufficient challenge. But for people who compete in the Texas State Championship Sprint Adventure race series, risking life and limb on two wheels is clearly not enough. The brainchild of Troy Farrar of Houston's Terra Firma Promotions, the June through September series consists of seven races held on courses in Houston, Dallas, Oklahoma City and New Braunfels. The competition is open to two-person teams that must endure a seven- to ten-mile mountain bike race, followed by a two- to three-mile trail run before canoeing for a couple of miles. The frequently brutal race is a true test of teamwork and tenacity, and the best part is that proceeds benefit Texas Wildlife Rehabilitation.

Some athletes are just plain hard to please. Take mountain bike riders, for example. You'd think traversing terrain that might cause a tank commander to rethink his route would be a sufficient challenge. But for people who compete in the Texas State Championship Sprint Adventure race series, risking life and limb on two wheels is clearly not enough. The brainchild of Troy Farrar of Houston's Terra Firma Promotions, the June through September series consists of seven races held on courses in Houston, Dallas, Oklahoma City and New Braunfels. The competition is open to two-person teams that must endure a seven- to ten-mile mountain bike race, followed by a two- to three-mile trail run before canoeing for a couple of miles. The frequently brutal race is a true test of teamwork and tenacity, and the best part is that proceeds benefit Texas Wildlife Rehabilitation.

The fundamental fantasy of the golfing world is that best is supposed to be brutal. Year after year, Houston hackers hold the notion that tribute should be paid to the toughest holes. Of course, that ignores the basic premise that this game is geared toward finding that rare feeling of oneness with nature. So stifle the raves about 490-yard par fours transcending the 200-foot canyons and elevated greens guarded by Saharan bunkers, and start communing with the sheer beauty to behold from tee to green and beyond. Old Orchard Golf Club was created with a unique respect for the finer aesthetics of the game. Nothing shows that off more than No. 4 at the Stables Course. The view is accented by a windmill in the distance. Plenty of trees surround the hole, and a waterfall and stream splash down the fairway border and extend beyond the narrow, well-trapped three-tier green. Challenging? Naturally. And scenic. And peaceful. The kind of on-in-two feeling that the game of golf is supposed to be all about. On this hole, a drop in blood pressure is par enough.
The fundamental fantasy of the golfing world is that best is supposed to be brutal. Year after year, Houston hackers hold the notion that tribute should be paid to the toughest holes. Of course, that ignores the basic premise that this game is geared toward finding that rare feeling of oneness with nature. So stifle the raves about 490-yard par fours transcending the 200-foot canyons and elevated greens guarded by Saharan bunkers, and start communing with the sheer beauty to behold from tee to green and beyond. Old Orchard Golf Club was created with a unique respect for the finer aesthetics of the game. Nothing shows that off more than No. 4 at the Stables Course. The view is accented by a windmill in the distance. Plenty of trees surround the hole, and a waterfall and stream splash down the fairway border and extend beyond the narrow, well-trapped three-tier green. Challenging? Naturally. And scenic. And peaceful. The kind of on-in-two feeling that the game of golf is supposed to be all about. On this hole, a drop in blood pressure is par enough.
For most of us, table tennis (it was called Ping-Pong in our day) was a game best played in the rec room with Uncle Charlie and a few of your Little League team buddies. One visit to the Houston Table Tennis Center on West Bellfort, and you'll realize just how far this little game has come. With 24 tournament-caliber tables, a pro shop and a lounge complete with pool tables, this place is the center of the world for table tennis mavens. While rank amateurs can play for $6 an hour or $8 a day, you also are likely to see some of the finest practitioners of the game flailing away at the little white ball with as much intensity as Pete Sampras at Wimbledon. The center hosts regular tournaments and provides coaches who can teach you how to execute shots like spinny loops, defensive chops and fast counter drives. But you'd better tell Uncle Charlie to at least put on a shirt without mustard stains.
For most of us, table tennis (it was called Ping-Pong in our day) was a game best played in the rec room with Uncle Charlie and a few of your Little League team buddies. One visit to the Houston Table Tennis Center on West Bellfort, and you'll realize just how far this little game has come. With 24 tournament-caliber tables, a pro shop and a lounge complete with pool tables, this place is the center of the world for table tennis mavens. While rank amateurs can play for $6 an hour or $8 a day, you also are likely to see some of the finest practitioners of the game flailing away at the little white ball with as much intensity as Pete Sampras at Wimbledon. The center hosts regular tournaments and provides coaches who can teach you how to execute shots like spinny loops, defensive chops and fast counter drives. But you'd better tell Uncle Charlie to at least put on a shirt without mustard stains.
The billiard cloth has long since faded to a lighter shade of green; the cues are sometimes as curved as an archer's bow, and a few tables are as level as a raked stage. The Waugh Drive Pool Hall is not about the tools of the trade. This Montrose institution -- 33 years of operation and counting -- is the kind of place where Charles Bukowski would have played pool. In short, it's a dive, and in a part of town that's being gentrified beyond recognition, that's enough for us. There's rarely a wait for a table, and even if there is, the beer's only $1.50 a bottle ($2 for "premium"), and the jukebox has all the best hits from the 1970s. Waugh Pool, as it's known among regulars (or at least the regulars we know), recalls a time when breaking balls was indeed a cheap form of entertainment, not one that required an ATM in the corner. Tables are a mere $5 an hour (regardless of the number of players). With a price like that, we can do without the mahogany tables, the mood lighting and the frat boys trying to imitate Tom Cruise from The Color of Money.
The billiard cloth has long since faded to a lighter shade of green; the cues are sometimes as curved as an archer's bow, and a few tables are as level as a raked stage. The Waugh Drive Pool Hall is not about the tools of the trade. This Montrose institution -- 33 years of operation and counting -- is the kind of place where Charles Bukowski would have played pool. In short, it's a dive, and in a part of town that's being gentrified beyond recognition, that's enough for us. There's rarely a wait for a table, and even if there is, the beer's only $1.50 a bottle ($2 for "premium"), and the jukebox has all the best hits from the 1970s. Waugh Pool, as it's known among regulars (or at least the regulars we know), recalls a time when breaking balls was indeed a cheap form of entertainment, not one that required an ATM in the corner. Tables are a mere $5 an hour (regardless of the number of players). With a price like that, we can do without the mahogany tables, the mood lighting and the frat boys trying to imitate Tom Cruise from The Color of Money.
When it comes to adventures in baby-sitting, water parks are a no-brainer. But don't let the big guys drown out Houston's best-kept secret: Adventure Bay. On just 12 acres in far west Houston, it's intimate enough to let older kids roam free (though we suggest the buddy system) through the Master Blaster uphill coaster, four huge tube slides and one achingly steep body slide (watch for wedgies!). They can also run along the man-made river, navigating around moms on tubes taking a slow float through the clean, well-landscaped park. Because crowds haven't discovered it yet, there's hardly a wait for any slide -- at any time -- and Adventure Bay is just a fraction of the price of the bigger parks. And it's the only one in town that lets you bring your own cooler of snacks and drinks (sans alcohol). Grown-ups still can imbibe beer and margaritas, as well as burgers and barbecue, served there. Our only concern is that the freedom it offers from crowds could be its downfall, forcing Houston's newest water park to close before it has a chance to really get going.

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