Ain’t nothin’ but a Georgl thang
BEAVER CREEK – Get set. Go! Grunt, grimace, groan. Going fast; gotta relax. Got a groove, great turn. Gusts, ruts and greasy ice. Grit teeth. Guts now, grin later. Growing speed, glimpse the end, beware of greed, greetings friends. Growl. Gallant run; glide to greatness, glamour, grandstand. Give a timeless gem – a godly demonstration of haste – garner the throne, golden boy.Only Stephan Georgl can truly know the things that galloped through his glory-bound crown noontime on Thursday. He seemed grateful, doubtlessly glad, and maybe, just maybe, he learned what it truly means to be a “Super-G.”Ah, the elusive, ambiguous “G.” What could it stand for? Of course, regarding the event, it means “Super-giant slalom.” Well then, why isn’t the giant slalom shortened to the “giant-S?” And what about in other contexts? How about the winner? Should not the winner be dubbed the “Super-G” at the end of a competition?
“Super-G.” It’s a wonderful way to describe a modern champion. So, with much further jargon and discombobulating linguistics, let us delve into the possible roots for our new descriptor.In the terminology of hipness, G stands for gangsta, and has often been utilized in sentences alongside the term “hustla.” A hustla is dubbed so for the sly manner in which power and glory are attained. Hustling is a relatively sensitive practice that requires skill and follow-through for complete success; it is an art. Gangstas, on the other hand, are known specifically for achievement through the use of threat, force and, oftentimes, brutality. Now, there is no doubt that Georgl displayed an ample amount of brute strength in claiming gold at the men’s World Cup super-G proceedings at Beaver Creek. However, he did not have to harm, deliberately and directly, other beings – an intrinsic trait of gangsterhood – in order to claim his status. Therefore, a “Super-G” bears only the positive traits of a gangsta, and possibly the artful traits of hustla.And, what would a word study be without a little Latin? I looked at a list of Latin words that begin with “G” on a Google search. Galactinus, gallina, gallo, glorificus. I settled down with “gero” – which is to have, bear – and “gloria” – which connotes fame, renown and glory.
Time-warping back to “Jeepers creepers! Where’d you get those peepers?” days, we inevitably are confronted with “Golly gee” and “Gee whiz.”These phrases are undeniably the caveman beginnings of what has evolved into the “Super-G.” They can express feelings of exasperation and wonder in a G-rated manner. However, like “um” and “uh” and perhaps certain overused four-letter words, they are forms of “G” that can be viewed as space fillers void of any exact definition.A spectator attending Thursday’s competition brought another possible attribute of a “Super-G” to my consideration.
“If you’re going to call a person a ‘Super-G,’ then I don’t know. I guess that person would probably get a lot of ladies.”This is a valid notion, perhaps a logical assumption, but we won’t apply it to the definition. As a result of his victory, Georgl may be desired by more ladies than previously, but I prefer to leave gender and sexual politics out of the Vail Daily sports section.So, after all of this definitive wackiness, I believe we’ve arrived at a “Super-G” as being: “A brutally artful bearer of wondrous fame, renown and glory.”Before we settle on this definition, let us consider that a “G” is also a nickname for $1,000, or a grand. Now, in this young, broke man’s opinion, a thousand bucks is a significant pile of green. And, when taking into consideration Georgl’s $34,924 in prize money, we can safely give him the title of “Super-G,” or “Super Georgl.”
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