I read recently that the Florida Marlins won’t be trading Dontrelle Willis because the team’s trying to blackmail a new stadium from the state of Florida, and, it’s afraid that if it trades Willis, that it won’t get it’s stadium.
Now, as those who read Versions 1-3 of the Chronicles know, The Clown doesn’t think much of this new stadium scam. If the owners want a new pleasure palace, they should just build the damn thing themselves.
That said, this is a review of a book about Jim Bouton’s attempt to fight these forces in small town Massachusetts. I wrote this in November of 2003 for a friend’s website, but he’s shut it down, and the review’s no longer available. So, I’m republishing it here.
Jim Bouton’s name means many things to many people: former World Series hero; former major league pitcher for the New York Yankees, Seattle Pilots, Houston Astros, and the Atlanta Braves; actor in The Long Goodbye; a television sports broadcaster; and author of one of the New York Public Library’s selections for Book of the Century for his groundbreaking work, Ball Four, which detailed his 1969 comeback to the major leagues. He’s been a pariah and a hero. But most of all, Jim Bouton’s been a man who just wanted to live his life quietly, out of the spotlight.
But life never meets expectations.
Foul Ball opens in the summer of 2000, the author, Jim Bouton, living a quiet life in the town of Egremont, Massachusetts, not far from the town of Pittsfield, Massachusetts, a town housing one of the most historic ballparks in baseball. Yet, there’s a problem. The town leaders want to tear it down and replace it with a state-of-the-art –luxury-seat dominated stadium. There’s no team to play in the stadium. There’s no corporation picking up the costs. The public doesn’t want it. A stadium referendum’s been defeated twice, in 1997 and 1999. But in the summer of 2000, the Pittsfield city council votes 8-3 to request the state to authorize the creation of a Civic Authority to build and operate a new stadium.
To use a sports analogy, it’s the bottom of the ninth, nobody’s on base, there are two outs, and the bad guys are winning. Enter Jim Bouton.
Foul Ball is a diary of Bouton’s attempts to save the stadium, an attempt which revolves around him and two partners buying the stadium, refurbishing it, and attracting a new minor league team as a tenant. The book’s a passionate, often funny, often angry and aggravating recounting of a Don Quixote-esque battle against the mayor, the city council, the media, General Electric, and various Pittsfield power brokers.
Bouton’s attempts fail, he fails to produce in the bottom of the ninth. But his chronicle reveals machinations by the city to purchase contaminated land upon which to build the stadium. And that a major party pushing the new stadium is a corporation based in Denver, Colorado, the media corporation owned by Dean Singleton, who just happens to own the major newspaper in the Pittsfield area, and who just happens to own that contaminated land.
Foul Ball is Bouton’s story of Pittsfield. But it could just as easily be a story of Houston, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, San Diego, San Antonio and Dallas, Detroit, Seattle. It’s a story currently being fought in Miami, New York City, Washington, D.C., and the Northern Virginia area, Minneapolis-St. Paul, Portland, Oregon, and every other city in the United States fighting to keep or attract a professional sports franchise.
It’s a primer to be read by the people of those cities, a primer of how to fight the war – a story of lessons learned and battles lost – all so that this doesn’t happen to some other unsuspecting populace. And for those cities that lost the battle, it’s a reminder of who’s responsible for these taxpayer funded palaces that won’t allow admittance to most of those responsible for the paying.
Jim Bouton’s Foul Ball is the story of lies, deceit, and evil machinations by those people who should be looking out for the populace, not profiting off of the populace. Jim Bouton and the people of Pittsfield may have lost the battle. But thanks to Foul Ball, nobody else should have to suffer this fate.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The Stupid, It Still Burns: Barry Bonds v. the Media
This is another in a series of postings in which I hope to help disabuse of the idiotic legal interpretations expressed by the media -- in this case, it's another one from the sporting world.
So, I'm listening to the radio today -- I should've been listening to the iPod, but we all mistakes, right? Anyway, I'm listening to the local world wide leader station, and Keith Olbermann, who I admire, is carrying on about the martyrdom of Judith Miller. WTF? Well, he's also dealing with the S.F. Chronicle guys who broke the Barry Bonds story last year.
His buddy, Dan Patrick chimes in with an e-mail from a listener telling them to lay off Bonds, that, in the U.S., we have this thing called of burden of proof, and that the accused is guilty until proven innocent -- the writer obviously didn't know that we're living in a Bizarro U.S. where the owner of a baseball team can become president and kill habeas corpus.
So, Patrick responds that there is the burden of proof issue, but, that since Bonds has been accused so many times, and tagged with so much, that his failure to speak on the issue, or to sue those making the statements, is indicative of his guilt.
That brings us today's legal lesson. Welcome to the world of legal law as defined by The New York Times v. Sullivan. I'll keep it short: to win a suit for libel -- which is what Bonds would be trying to do -- the plaintiff has to prove that the defendant acted with actual malice. Note, for a public figure, like Bonds, truth has nothing to do with. As long as Bonds can't prove malice on part of the reporters, he can't win his suit.
Malice, in English, means that you intend the harm. And to prove the malice, Bonds would have to prove that the reporters acted in reckless disregard of the truth, or knew the truth and chose to ignore such. That means he's got to prove that the reporters were lying, or that they could've discovered the truth, but chose not to.
Bonds can't win this. Why, because the reporters were relying on grand jury testimony and grand jury documents from a federal investigation. They've got testimony -- leaked testimony for sure -- that Bonds took steroids. Now, they don't prove beyond a shadow of doubt that Bonds did take steroids, but the evidence is damning. The reporters have met their burden. There's no malice. The testimony comes under oath, thus it's supposed to be true. If it's a lie, then that's a case for the criminal prosecutors, but the reporters are in the clear.
Do you want another instance? Remember the name of Richard Jewell. A small-time security guard who is first believed to be the hero of the 1996 Olympics bombing because of his actions to prevent death and injury? I was in Atlanta, at the Olympics on the Tuesday after the bombing, on my way to men's basketball game, when a special edition of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution hit the streets, accusing Jewell of being the bomber. This was also reported on NBC.
Jewell's reputation is ruined. But, guess what, it's later revealed that the real bomber is one Eric Rudolph, a guy better known for bombing abortion clinics. Jewell sues NBC and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution for libel, and he loses (note: part of this suit is still in court, but he's been losing and appealing). Why? Because the reporters involved were reporting information given to them by the FBI. There was no malice involved -- and Jewell was ruled to be a public figure, so the actual malice standard applied. The reporters did what they were supposed to do: the authorities investigating the incident told them that it was Jewell. There was no reckless disregard of the truth. The reporters didn't know that the claims were false. They reported what they thought was the truth.
So, if Richard Jewell can't win a libel case against those accusing him of bombing the Olympics, how can Bonds win a libel suit against those accusing him of using steroids.
Thus, no matter what Dan Patrick or the rest of the sports airheads say, Bonds' refusal to file a lawsuit for libel doesn't mean that he's guilty. It just means that there's no way he can win the suit. Truth has nothing to do with libel. Bonds knows this. His attorneys know this. And Dan Patrick should know this because this is basic media libel law.
And that's your legal education for today. Now, that'll be $1,000 please.
So, I'm listening to the radio today -- I should've been listening to the iPod, but we all mistakes, right? Anyway, I'm listening to the local world wide leader station, and Keith Olbermann, who I admire, is carrying on about the martyrdom of Judith Miller. WTF? Well, he's also dealing with the S.F. Chronicle guys who broke the Barry Bonds story last year.
His buddy, Dan Patrick chimes in with an e-mail from a listener telling them to lay off Bonds, that, in the U.S., we have this thing called of burden of proof, and that the accused is guilty until proven innocent -- the writer obviously didn't know that we're living in a Bizarro U.S. where the owner of a baseball team can become president and kill habeas corpus.
So, Patrick responds that there is the burden of proof issue, but, that since Bonds has been accused so many times, and tagged with so much, that his failure to speak on the issue, or to sue those making the statements, is indicative of his guilt.
That brings us today's legal lesson. Welcome to the world of legal law as defined by The New York Times v. Sullivan. I'll keep it short: to win a suit for libel -- which is what Bonds would be trying to do -- the plaintiff has to prove that the defendant acted with actual malice. Note, for a public figure, like Bonds, truth has nothing to do with. As long as Bonds can't prove malice on part of the reporters, he can't win his suit.
Malice, in English, means that you intend the harm. And to prove the malice, Bonds would have to prove that the reporters acted in reckless disregard of the truth, or knew the truth and chose to ignore such. That means he's got to prove that the reporters were lying, or that they could've discovered the truth, but chose not to.
Bonds can't win this. Why, because the reporters were relying on grand jury testimony and grand jury documents from a federal investigation. They've got testimony -- leaked testimony for sure -- that Bonds took steroids. Now, they don't prove beyond a shadow of doubt that Bonds did take steroids, but the evidence is damning. The reporters have met their burden. There's no malice. The testimony comes under oath, thus it's supposed to be true. If it's a lie, then that's a case for the criminal prosecutors, but the reporters are in the clear.
Do you want another instance? Remember the name of Richard Jewell. A small-time security guard who is first believed to be the hero of the 1996 Olympics bombing because of his actions to prevent death and injury? I was in Atlanta, at the Olympics on the Tuesday after the bombing, on my way to men's basketball game, when a special edition of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution hit the streets, accusing Jewell of being the bomber. This was also reported on NBC.
Jewell's reputation is ruined. But, guess what, it's later revealed that the real bomber is one Eric Rudolph, a guy better known for bombing abortion clinics. Jewell sues NBC and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution for libel, and he loses (note: part of this suit is still in court, but he's been losing and appealing). Why? Because the reporters involved were reporting information given to them by the FBI. There was no malice involved -- and Jewell was ruled to be a public figure, so the actual malice standard applied. The reporters did what they were supposed to do: the authorities investigating the incident told them that it was Jewell. There was no reckless disregard of the truth. The reporters didn't know that the claims were false. They reported what they thought was the truth.
So, if Richard Jewell can't win a libel case against those accusing him of bombing the Olympics, how can Bonds win a libel suit against those accusing him of using steroids.
Thus, no matter what Dan Patrick or the rest of the sports airheads say, Bonds' refusal to file a lawsuit for libel doesn't mean that he's guilty. It just means that there's no way he can win the suit. Truth has nothing to do with libel. Bonds knows this. His attorneys know this. And Dan Patrick should know this because this is basic media libel law.
And that's your legal education for today. Now, that'll be $1,000 please.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
The Moral High Ground
In it's continuing efforts to keep me pissed off, today's Houston Chronicle has a story on how the Houston Texans will only draft and sign players of high moral character. In other words, Pacman Jones and Ray Lewis need not apply.
Owner Bob McNair says he wants to win the right way, with the right class of players. There's even speculation that the Texans passed on Reggie Bush because of Bush's alleged character issues.
Okay then, riddle me this: David Carr is supposedly known for his high moral character, yet the team's looking to drop him because he can't win. And it's looking like the Broncos' Jake Plummer is the prime candidate to replace Carr. Now, noboby tell McNair, but Jake likes to engage in incidents of road rage, and he's been kind of outspoken with antiwar comments, something that I'm sure the pro-Bush McNair might not take kindly to. And if the Texans have been drafting and signing such high character players, then how does McNair account not only for one of his players being tasered in an encounter with the police, but for the player still being on the Texans roster?
Look, I think that this whole moral high caliber craps is bullshit. Sure, I don't want a team populated by the Bengals, nor do I want Ray Lewis or Pacman Jones on the team. But, following McNair's dictates, the Texans would've never drafted or signed such morally repugnant players as Paul Hornung and Alex Karras, Joe Namath and Len Dawson, Lawrence Taylor, Ken Stabler, Warren Sapp, or Michael Irvin, among many others. Even such great moral paragons like Johnny Unitas were exposed to the mafia and were investigated by the FBI and the NFL. That's a lot of Hall-of-Fame and Pro Bowl talent there. And from what I've read, while some of these players many have been lacking in moral scruples, they were consumate team players, and they were utterly professional on the field of play.
Further, under McNair's system, the Texans would've been very happy to have had O.J. Simpson on the roster. His murderous tendencies didn't become evident until after he left game.
I'm not saying that the Texans need to become like the 1970-era Oakland Raiders, but the team shouldn't rob itself of the next Reggie Bush because of some misguided morality issue. It should further be noted that, in the case of Reggie Bush, Bush hasn't been accused of any illegal actions.
So, while the team doesn't need to just win, baby, it would be nice to have a few victories from time to time.
Owner Bob McNair says he wants to win the right way, with the right class of players. There's even speculation that the Texans passed on Reggie Bush because of Bush's alleged character issues.
Okay then, riddle me this: David Carr is supposedly known for his high moral character, yet the team's looking to drop him because he can't win. And it's looking like the Broncos' Jake Plummer is the prime candidate to replace Carr. Now, noboby tell McNair, but Jake likes to engage in incidents of road rage, and he's been kind of outspoken with antiwar comments, something that I'm sure the pro-Bush McNair might not take kindly to. And if the Texans have been drafting and signing such high character players, then how does McNair account not only for one of his players being tasered in an encounter with the police, but for the player still being on the Texans roster?
Look, I think that this whole moral high caliber craps is bullshit. Sure, I don't want a team populated by the Bengals, nor do I want Ray Lewis or Pacman Jones on the team. But, following McNair's dictates, the Texans would've never drafted or signed such morally repugnant players as Paul Hornung and Alex Karras, Joe Namath and Len Dawson, Lawrence Taylor, Ken Stabler, Warren Sapp, or Michael Irvin, among many others. Even such great moral paragons like Johnny Unitas were exposed to the mafia and were investigated by the FBI and the NFL. That's a lot of Hall-of-Fame and Pro Bowl talent there. And from what I've read, while some of these players many have been lacking in moral scruples, they were consumate team players, and they were utterly professional on the field of play.
Further, under McNair's system, the Texans would've been very happy to have had O.J. Simpson on the roster. His murderous tendencies didn't become evident until after he left game.
I'm not saying that the Texans need to become like the 1970-era Oakland Raiders, but the team shouldn't rob itself of the next Reggie Bush because of some misguided morality issue. It should further be noted that, in the case of Reggie Bush, Bush hasn't been accused of any illegal actions.
So, while the team doesn't need to just win, baby, it would be nice to have a few victories from time to time.
Tales From the Astrodome: Tommy Lasorda Edition
There's a book that's coming out. It's written by a Hollywood madam, and she states that former Los Angeles Dodger manager Tommy Lasorda was one of her clients. Lasorda's denying this -- but really, who besides Charlie Sheen would admit to this -- but I've got admit that I'm glad to see Tommy Lasorda getting screwed -- or rather, blown.
Because he used to screw me all of the time.
My primary job for the Houston Astros, back when they played in the Astrodome, was to do the graphics for the DiamondVision. One would look up to the DiamondVision srcreen and see the player and replays and commercials. Right before the pitch, the screen would either go to a full page of stats, or else the player's face head would be squeezed to one half of the screen, and stats or some other player info would appear on the other half. I was responsible for those stats. The Astros -- and the visiting team -- PR Department, would provide the press with all of the game and season stats, plus notes on all of the teams and the players. I was the one who chose the nuggets for the in-stadium fans to see. That's right. I was The Decider, and I picked and sifted through all of the intelligence, just like that Decider in D.C.
We would also give the starting lineups on the DiamondVision, and this involved a series of nine graphics pages for each team. I won't bore you with the technical details, but with those 18 pages, plus four pages for each of the position players, and two pages for the pitchers, I had 86 pages of stat material to prepare each night -- plus, I was also responsible for having info on the relievers and pinch hitters ready at the drop of a hat.
So, long story short, there was a lot of pre-game work that went into having game info available for the fans -- yes, you're welcome. And nothing could be done until the line-ups were posted. And this generally happened from between 1 1/2 hours and 2 1/2 hours prior to the game. I would pick up the scorecard, all of the various notes and statistical info, then I would retreat to my station in our booth, on the pressbox level, behind home plate. On most nights, I was ready by the first pitch, which helped because I also had to keep score so that I could update the stats -- I didn't have a computer that would do this for me. Some nights I even finished before the anthem.
And then there were the Dodgers. Tommy would always have his line-ups posted about 2 1/2 hours before the game. But then Tommy would do this thing where, right before the PA guy would announce the starting line-ups, he'd change. The left fielder would move to right, and bat 3rd instead of 7th. He'd sit about 4 other guys. It would leave all of the pre-game work in shambles, messing up the scoreboard guys, the PA guy, and the TV and radio guys.
Especially me.
By the 6th inning, I would usually be caught up, then I could finally turn my attention to the game, and, for the first time, catch up on what was happening in the game.
I hated when the Dodgers would come into town. And I was happy to hear that Lasorda was no longer managing the Dodgers. And, today, I'm happy to see that Tommy was screwing someone besides me.
Because he used to screw me all of the time.
My primary job for the Houston Astros, back when they played in the Astrodome, was to do the graphics for the DiamondVision. One would look up to the DiamondVision srcreen and see the player and replays and commercials. Right before the pitch, the screen would either go to a full page of stats, or else the player's face head would be squeezed to one half of the screen, and stats or some other player info would appear on the other half. I was responsible for those stats. The Astros -- and the visiting team -- PR Department, would provide the press with all of the game and season stats, plus notes on all of the teams and the players. I was the one who chose the nuggets for the in-stadium fans to see. That's right. I was The Decider, and I picked and sifted through all of the intelligence, just like that Decider in D.C.
We would also give the starting lineups on the DiamondVision, and this involved a series of nine graphics pages for each team. I won't bore you with the technical details, but with those 18 pages, plus four pages for each of the position players, and two pages for the pitchers, I had 86 pages of stat material to prepare each night -- plus, I was also responsible for having info on the relievers and pinch hitters ready at the drop of a hat.
So, long story short, there was a lot of pre-game work that went into having game info available for the fans -- yes, you're welcome. And nothing could be done until the line-ups were posted. And this generally happened from between 1 1/2 hours and 2 1/2 hours prior to the game. I would pick up the scorecard, all of the various notes and statistical info, then I would retreat to my station in our booth, on the pressbox level, behind home plate. On most nights, I was ready by the first pitch, which helped because I also had to keep score so that I could update the stats -- I didn't have a computer that would do this for me. Some nights I even finished before the anthem.
And then there were the Dodgers. Tommy would always have his line-ups posted about 2 1/2 hours before the game. But then Tommy would do this thing where, right before the PA guy would announce the starting line-ups, he'd change. The left fielder would move to right, and bat 3rd instead of 7th. He'd sit about 4 other guys. It would leave all of the pre-game work in shambles, messing up the scoreboard guys, the PA guy, and the TV and radio guys.
Especially me.
By the 6th inning, I would usually be caught up, then I could finally turn my attention to the game, and, for the first time, catch up on what was happening in the game.
I hated when the Dodgers would come into town. And I was happy to hear that Lasorda was no longer managing the Dodgers. And, today, I'm happy to see that Tommy was screwing someone besides me.
Monday, February 26, 2007
And Your Super Bowl Halftime Performer is...
So, it appears that the NFL is going to ignore my suggestion about Foo Fighters being the halftime entertainment at the next Super Bowl. Fine, don't listen. Most people ignore me, anyway.
I'm not much for the halftime anyway. Why can't they just do the normal thing and get on with the game? Besides, who wants to see this Bruce Springsteen guy perform anyway?
Wait a minute...
Did you say Bruce Springsteen?
Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce!!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, The Clown's a big fan of The Boss. And this is one halftime that he'd really watch. Now, I know the thing only lasts about half-an-hour, so there goes Bruce and the boys doing "Rosalita." But I think this might make for a good set list: "Murder, Incorporated" -- it's especially good if the Titans, Bengals, or Ravens are playing; "Born to Run;" "Badlands;" and "Born in the U.S.A."
But come on, it's the NFL, it's going to find a way to screw this up. They'll probably say no to "Born in the U.S.A." because it's not a patriotic song -- despite what Reagan thought. They'll probably want "Dancing in the Dark" and "Glory Days."
But still, it's Bruuuuuuce!!! So, come on NFL, get it done.
I'm not much for the halftime anyway. Why can't they just do the normal thing and get on with the game? Besides, who wants to see this Bruce Springsteen guy perform anyway?
Wait a minute...
Did you say Bruce Springsteen?
Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce!!!!!!!!!!!!
Okay, The Clown's a big fan of The Boss. And this is one halftime that he'd really watch. Now, I know the thing only lasts about half-an-hour, so there goes Bruce and the boys doing "Rosalita." But I think this might make for a good set list: "Murder, Incorporated" -- it's especially good if the Titans, Bengals, or Ravens are playing; "Born to Run;" "Badlands;" and "Born in the U.S.A."
But come on, it's the NFL, it's going to find a way to screw this up. They'll probably say no to "Born in the U.S.A." because it's not a patriotic song -- despite what Reagan thought. They'll probably want "Dancing in the Dark" and "Glory Days."
But still, it's Bruuuuuuce!!! So, come on NFL, get it done.
(Not So) Instant Karma
"Instant karma's gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on the head
You better get yourself together
Pretty soon you're gonna be dead
What in the world you thinking of
Laughing in the face of love
What on earth you tryin' to do
It's up to you, yeah you..."
Okay, so maybe the karma's not so instant, but you've just got to know that, if this whole afterlife thing really exists, John Lennon's laughing his ass off as Strom Thurmond discovers that he's related to the Reverend Al Sharpton.
Well, might be related. What is proven is that, at one time, an ancestor of the late Senator Thurmond owned an ancestor of the Reverend Sharpton.
And sure, it came out not long ago that Strom fathered a child by a black woman, so maybe Strom wasn't really all that disgusted by the black (wo)man. But still, it's one thing to father a black child, but for Strom to be related to the Reverend Al must really be chapping at this surpreme segregationist.
Yeah, instant karma's gonna get you. Haha.
Gonna knock you right on the head
You better get yourself together
Pretty soon you're gonna be dead
What in the world you thinking of
Laughing in the face of love
What on earth you tryin' to do
It's up to you, yeah you..."
Okay, so maybe the karma's not so instant, but you've just got to know that, if this whole afterlife thing really exists, John Lennon's laughing his ass off as Strom Thurmond discovers that he's related to the Reverend Al Sharpton.
Well, might be related. What is proven is that, at one time, an ancestor of the late Senator Thurmond owned an ancestor of the Reverend Sharpton.
And sure, it came out not long ago that Strom fathered a child by a black woman, so maybe Strom wasn't really all that disgusted by the black (wo)man. But still, it's one thing to father a black child, but for Strom to be related to the Reverend Al must really be chapping at this surpreme segregationist.
Yeah, instant karma's gonna get you. Haha.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
The Oscar Predictions
You know, every year, I predict the Oscar winners. But this year, I just don't care. I've seen all of the movies nominated for Best Picture, and I don't think any of them deserve to win, though I suppose the best of the bunch is The Queen. Five years from now, that's probably the only movie of the group that I'd actually want to sit down and watch again.
I think the best three films of the year were Children of Men, Pan's Labyrinth, and Hollywoodland. Me and Oscar disagree.
The only nominated acting performances that knocked me out were Forest Whitaker, Helen Mirren, and Markie Mark. Sure, I kind of hope that the old man, Peter O'Toole, wins, but I'm not going to watch this year, so...
My predicitions for this year, I don't know, I'll be watching The Amazing Race, Rome, and Battlestar Galactica. So someone can fill me on the specifics later, I guess.
I think the best three films of the year were Children of Men, Pan's Labyrinth, and Hollywoodland. Me and Oscar disagree.
The only nominated acting performances that knocked me out were Forest Whitaker, Helen Mirren, and Markie Mark. Sure, I kind of hope that the old man, Peter O'Toole, wins, but I'm not going to watch this year, so...
My predicitions for this year, I don't know, I'll be watching The Amazing Race, Rome, and Battlestar Galactica. So someone can fill me on the specifics later, I guess.
The Greatest of All Time -- Houston Astros Edition
Okay, I'm firmly convinced that the Houston Chronicle sports department exists for no other reason than to piss me off. Today, the big story is on rather Lance Berkman and Roy Oswalt are among the greatest Astros ever.
I've got an idea, let's wait until their careers are over to assess greatness.
But, since the Chronicle insists, here's my greatest Astros ever: position player is Jeff Bagwell, not Lance Berkman. Bagwell was infinitely better than Berkman can ever be. Berkman's a natural hitter. I think he can get single while sleeping at home. But Bagwell was one of the best fielding first baseman that I ever had the chance to see. He was an aggressive fielder on bunts down the first base line, and he was one of the best at starting the 3-4-3 double play. Bagwell will be remembered as a power hitter. But when the team was in the Dome, Bagwell would often double into the gaps, and he was an excellent opposite-field hitter. And he was a very good base runner, an area in which Berkman is really lacking.
As for pitcher, the best would have to be J.R. Richard, a giant of man, nearly 6'8, with a 100-mile fastball and slider with a hard break. The guy nearly died trying to prove to Astros brass that he was, indeed injured, and it's to the team's everlasting shame that they've yet to retire his jersey.
But, I want to do something besides just give the two greatest Houston Astros. I'm going to give you my all-time Astros 25 man roster. And I'm going with 10 pitchers, and 15 fielders. And, the guy has to have played for the team for at least one full season, so, no Big Unit, no Bobby Abreau, and no Kenny Lofton. So, here we go.
The starting infield would consist of Bagwell at first, Craig Biggio at second, Roger Metzger at short, and Ken Caminiti at third. and Alan Ashby at catcher. The starting outfield would Terry Puhl in right, Cesar Cedeno in center, and Luis Gonzalez in left. The bench is Berkman -- who can play first and all outfield spots. Joe Morgan and Doug Rader will back up at second and third. Denny Walling is the first bat off of the bench, plus, he can play 1st, 3rd, or a corner outfield slot. Craig Reynolds can play at every infield position, and in the outfield, and the final two bench guys are Bob Watson and Jose Cruz. If you're saying, hey, there's only one catcher on this roster, that's because I'm going to put Biggio there every four or five games and on Sundays.
As for the pitching staff. Well, the ace is J.R. Richard. The number two starter is Larry Dierker, followed in the rotation by Nolan Ryan and Roy Oswalt. The fifth guy is Joe Niekro -- the knuckleballer will be my Tim Wakefield and fill in in the pen when necessary. Don Wilson is my spot starter and long reliever. Ken Forsch can fill in as starter, be a long guy, and he can also close. My set-up guys are Joe Sambito and Dave Smith, and the closer is Billy Wagner.
Thus, the 25 man roster.
The manager is Bill Virdon. The bench coach is Leo Durocher -- yep, that's right, Leo the Lip spent time as a manager of the 'Stros. The pitching coach is Vern Ruhle. The hitting coach is Rudy Jaramillo. The third base coach is Hal Lanier, and the first base coach is Art Howe. The team's general manager is Bill Wood, and the broadcast crew will include Gene Elston, Jerry Trupiano, Bill Brown, and Jim Deshaies.
Gonzo starts over Berkman because I want a good defensive team -- and Gonzo can hit.
The batting order:
Biggio
Puhl
Bagwell
Cedeno
Caminiti
Gonzalez
Ashby
Metzger
Pitcher
If you've got problems with my roster, let me know. I'm willing to listen to Mike Scott, but I don't think he can be in this starting rotation, and I don't think he's a real bullpen type. I'm also willing to listen to suggestions re Darryl Kile and Glenn Davis. I better not hear the names Roger Clemens, Frank Lacorte, Brad Lidge, or Milo Hamilton mentioned.
I've got an idea, let's wait until their careers are over to assess greatness.
But, since the Chronicle insists, here's my greatest Astros ever: position player is Jeff Bagwell, not Lance Berkman. Bagwell was infinitely better than Berkman can ever be. Berkman's a natural hitter. I think he can get single while sleeping at home. But Bagwell was one of the best fielding first baseman that I ever had the chance to see. He was an aggressive fielder on bunts down the first base line, and he was one of the best at starting the 3-4-3 double play. Bagwell will be remembered as a power hitter. But when the team was in the Dome, Bagwell would often double into the gaps, and he was an excellent opposite-field hitter. And he was a very good base runner, an area in which Berkman is really lacking.
As for pitcher, the best would have to be J.R. Richard, a giant of man, nearly 6'8, with a 100-mile fastball and slider with a hard break. The guy nearly died trying to prove to Astros brass that he was, indeed injured, and it's to the team's everlasting shame that they've yet to retire his jersey.
But, I want to do something besides just give the two greatest Houston Astros. I'm going to give you my all-time Astros 25 man roster. And I'm going with 10 pitchers, and 15 fielders. And, the guy has to have played for the team for at least one full season, so, no Big Unit, no Bobby Abreau, and no Kenny Lofton. So, here we go.
The starting infield would consist of Bagwell at first, Craig Biggio at second, Roger Metzger at short, and Ken Caminiti at third. and Alan Ashby at catcher. The starting outfield would Terry Puhl in right, Cesar Cedeno in center, and Luis Gonzalez in left. The bench is Berkman -- who can play first and all outfield spots. Joe Morgan and Doug Rader will back up at second and third. Denny Walling is the first bat off of the bench, plus, he can play 1st, 3rd, or a corner outfield slot. Craig Reynolds can play at every infield position, and in the outfield, and the final two bench guys are Bob Watson and Jose Cruz. If you're saying, hey, there's only one catcher on this roster, that's because I'm going to put Biggio there every four or five games and on Sundays.
As for the pitching staff. Well, the ace is J.R. Richard. The number two starter is Larry Dierker, followed in the rotation by Nolan Ryan and Roy Oswalt. The fifth guy is Joe Niekro -- the knuckleballer will be my Tim Wakefield and fill in in the pen when necessary. Don Wilson is my spot starter and long reliever. Ken Forsch can fill in as starter, be a long guy, and he can also close. My set-up guys are Joe Sambito and Dave Smith, and the closer is Billy Wagner.
Thus, the 25 man roster.
The manager is Bill Virdon. The bench coach is Leo Durocher -- yep, that's right, Leo the Lip spent time as a manager of the 'Stros. The pitching coach is Vern Ruhle. The hitting coach is Rudy Jaramillo. The third base coach is Hal Lanier, and the first base coach is Art Howe. The team's general manager is Bill Wood, and the broadcast crew will include Gene Elston, Jerry Trupiano, Bill Brown, and Jim Deshaies.
Gonzo starts over Berkman because I want a good defensive team -- and Gonzo can hit.
The batting order:
Biggio
Puhl
Bagwell
Cedeno
Caminiti
Gonzalez
Ashby
Metzger
Pitcher
If you've got problems with my roster, let me know. I'm willing to listen to Mike Scott, but I don't think he can be in this starting rotation, and I don't think he's a real bullpen type. I'm also willing to listen to suggestions re Darryl Kile and Glenn Davis. I better not hear the names Roger Clemens, Frank Lacorte, Brad Lidge, or Milo Hamilton mentioned.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Taking Requests
Well, regarding the comment to my Pete Maravich post, requesting I write about something interesting. First, it's nice to know that I've got my family's support. Thanks for reading, little brother.
Second: if you've got any suggestions for what you want me to write about, then let me know. Otherwise, my interests are sports, books, movies, television, and every now and then, politics.
But, because of a blog posting from "By Ken Levine," I've been contemplating a posting about the beauty of Emily Deschanel of Bones. The idea of my posting coming from Ken Levine saying that the reason to watch Lost is because of Elizabeth Mitchell's eyes, and while I agree about Elizabeth Mitchell's eyes, and her great voice, I think that Emily Deschanel of Bones has even better eyes, and an even better voice (it's even better that Emily's 5'9" -- I like tall women). Thus making Wednesday night the best night for television.
And, if you speak of Emily, then you have to speak of her sister, Zooey Deschanel, who I've been watching recently in Almost Famous -- she plays the sister of the movie's hero. More of you might recognize from her role in Elf. Emily's also got great eyes, and a great voice. Plus, if you've watched Almost Famous and Zooey, then you've got to agree with me that Cameron Crowe's Elizabethtown -- which I think is a very underrated movie -- would've been that much better if Crowe'd cast Zooey instead of Kirsten Dunst.
That's it.
Second: if you've got any suggestions for what you want me to write about, then let me know. Otherwise, my interests are sports, books, movies, television, and every now and then, politics.
But, because of a blog posting from "By Ken Levine," I've been contemplating a posting about the beauty of Emily Deschanel of Bones. The idea of my posting coming from Ken Levine saying that the reason to watch Lost is because of Elizabeth Mitchell's eyes, and while I agree about Elizabeth Mitchell's eyes, and her great voice, I think that Emily Deschanel of Bones has even better eyes, and an even better voice (it's even better that Emily's 5'9" -- I like tall women). Thus making Wednesday night the best night for television.
And, if you speak of Emily, then you have to speak of her sister, Zooey Deschanel, who I've been watching recently in Almost Famous -- she plays the sister of the movie's hero. More of you might recognize from her role in Elf. Emily's also got great eyes, and a great voice. Plus, if you've watched Almost Famous and Zooey, then you've got to agree with me that Cameron Crowe's Elizabethtown -- which I think is a very underrated movie -- would've been that much better if Crowe'd cast Zooey instead of Kirsten Dunst.
That's it.
Book Review: Pistol: The Life of Pete Maravich
Sports franchises relocate for a myriad of reasons: money, new stadiums, a large fan base. The St. Louis Hawks relocated to Atlanta because of parking lots. Tom Cousins was a developer with large air and land rights holdings in downtown Atlanta. Most of the city became vacant after dark. Cousins needed a means to keep his parking lots occupied, and he felt that a downtown arena was the best way to do this. Thus, the Atlanta Hawks.
The Hawks were a winning team in St. Louis. It was a winning team in Atlanta. But even playing in temporary arenas which held at most 7200 people, the Hawks couldn’t sell out. Cousins developed a simple solution. One that would lead to increased crowds. One that would get him his downtown arena.
Pete Maravich came to the NBA.
Pete Maravich wasn’t just another basketball player. He was the Pistol. He was "showtime." The man who made behind-the-back, between-the-legs bounce passes that would start in one direction and wind up in another. The man who could hit the thirty footer from the top of the key or penetrate into the lane and score over the big men.
And Pistol Pete Maravich was white man. A white man playing what, in the 1970s was increasingly becoming a black man’s sport. And Tom Cousins saw that this white man would save his black franchise.
The Pistol would save the Hawks. But the Hawks couldn’t save him. He felt alienated from his teammates, the black men who saw him making more money without ever having proved his worth his pro. And he was alienated from his coaches who saw a showboat who couldn’t play in a controlled offense. Pistol Pete would save basketball in Atlanta. He would fulfill Cousins’ desire; he would bring the people to Atlanta Hawks basketball. But Pistol Pete would have to go. And he would have to go home.
Mark Kriegel’s Pistol: The Life of Pete Maravich details Maravich’s travails in Atlanta. He details Maravich’s travails with the New Orleans Jazz, and with the Utah Jazz, and with the Boston Celtics. But mainly, Kriegel details the travails of Maravich’s life. And Pete Maravich endured many travails.
Pete Maravich was born in those same Pennsylvania coal-mining towns that gave birth to Joe Namath and John Unitas. And like Namath and Unitas, Maravich was born with only goal: to play sports. But unlike Unitas and Namath, Maravich didn’t play basketball as a means to escape his life. He played basketball because he had to play basketball. Because basketball was the way to stay close to his dad, Press Maravich.
To Press Maravich, basketball was a means of salvation. It got him out of the coal mines, out of the coal mines. It let him see the United States. Press Maravich became one of the basketball pioneers. He played in the precursor to the NBA. He developed schemes that took basketball from a walk the ball up a court to the game to a fastbreak, multiple pass game that would dominate the NBA style of the 1970s and 1980s. And Press’ biggest project was his son, Pete.
Press taught Pete the fundamentals. But Press taught Pete the fancy moves. The fancy moves which would alienate Pete from his coaches and his teammates. And Press taught Pete those moves because Press, himself, was a coach, and Press recognized the uniqueness of his son.
Pete tried to escape Press once, when Pete was being recruited for college. But Press would be offered the job at a football school where basketball was an afterthought. And Pete would go with Press, and together, Pete and Press turned Louisiana State University into basketball country. And, as Pete would do in Atlanta, he would get a basketball arena built in Baton Rogue. Then, Pete would come to New Orleans and pack the Superdome full of people who came for one reason, to see the Pistol.
Kriegel’s book is a quick read, like his biography of Joe Namath. But it’s a fascinating read. And It’s fascinating because of the portrait of Pistol. A man who couldn’t win. A man who scored 40 points a game because he wanted to win, but a man who wanted to be liked by his teammates, and who would sulk and not shoot the ball, instead passing the ball to these teammates, who would then be angry because they thought that Pete was trying to tank game.
Kriegel’s book is a story of the prodigy who grew up to be one of the greatest players of his time. Unfortunately, it would only be after his death that his greatness would be recognized. And as Pete sought to reach his greatness, sought to win, sought to play the perfect game, Kriegel details how Pete lapsed into drunkenness, and into fads. He would be a vegetarian, he would be into kung fu. He believed that the UFO’s were coming to rescue him. He was a man who would become a survivalist, then he was a man who became an ardent Christian, hanging with James Dobson – the man famous for, among other things, claiming that SpongeBob SquarePants is a gay figure trying to recruit children into homosexuality. Pete Maravich is a man who lived for basketball. Who lived to play the perfect game. Who would retire and not pick up the ball for several years. He was a man who died on the basketball court, playing a pickup game with Dobson.
Kriegel implies that Pete Maravich, who died in his 40s, died a broken man, a man devastated by the death of his father only months before. A man who saw no reason to continue living. But Kriegel’s clear that, at his death, Maravich realizes that he had not been a failure. That he has, indeed, been one of the greatest players to ever set foot on the basketball court. A man who could do things that have still never been repeated. A man admired by the likes of Michael Jordan, Isaiah Thomas, and Charles Barkley. A man ahead of his time who saw the sport became what he, and his father, had prophesized.
Tom Cousins knew what Pete Maravich meant to his franchise when he ordered management to draft the Pistol. Press Maravich knew what his son meant to the future of the game when he started teaching him the game. Ultimately, Pete Maravich understood what he did to the game, for the game. He wasn’t accepted when he played. He was accepted when he died.
And Kriegel’s book details this all. He’s there at every step. Mark Kriegel does what every good biographer needs to do: he makes the reader live the life of the subject. The reader wallows in the lows of Pistol’s life, revels in the highs. The reader wants the answers for which Maravich spends most of his life seeking. The reader feels Christ reaching to him like He reached to Maravich, but the reader also feels that the UFO’s are coming to rescue us.
And, this reader feels that final truth that Kriegel touches on. Pistol Pete Maravich played as a basketball outcast, accepted only after his retirement. But the Pistol would be the outcast, once again, in today’s basketball. A game dominated by coaches who take away freedom from players. A game where only a couple of the thirty teams can play fastbreak basketball, a game where one franchise, the Los Angeles Lakers, stole Maravich’s "showtime" basketball concept only to revert to the slowdown.
Maravich, and Kriegel, and the reader, understood that basketball was entertainment. And that the entertainment put the fans in the stands. And that entertainment was provided by the players, not by the cheerleaders, the mascots, the loud music, or the halftime shows.
Pete Maravich may have saved the game for Tom Cousins. But who’s going to save it for today’s fan? Alas, Kriegel can’t provide these answers. But it’s sure fun reading about the man who saved the Atlanta Hawks.
The Hawks were a winning team in St. Louis. It was a winning team in Atlanta. But even playing in temporary arenas which held at most 7200 people, the Hawks couldn’t sell out. Cousins developed a simple solution. One that would lead to increased crowds. One that would get him his downtown arena.
Pete Maravich came to the NBA.
Pete Maravich wasn’t just another basketball player. He was the Pistol. He was "showtime." The man who made behind-the-back, between-the-legs bounce passes that would start in one direction and wind up in another. The man who could hit the thirty footer from the top of the key or penetrate into the lane and score over the big men.
And Pistol Pete Maravich was white man. A white man playing what, in the 1970s was increasingly becoming a black man’s sport. And Tom Cousins saw that this white man would save his black franchise.
The Pistol would save the Hawks. But the Hawks couldn’t save him. He felt alienated from his teammates, the black men who saw him making more money without ever having proved his worth his pro. And he was alienated from his coaches who saw a showboat who couldn’t play in a controlled offense. Pistol Pete would save basketball in Atlanta. He would fulfill Cousins’ desire; he would bring the people to Atlanta Hawks basketball. But Pistol Pete would have to go. And he would have to go home.
Mark Kriegel’s Pistol: The Life of Pete Maravich details Maravich’s travails in Atlanta. He details Maravich’s travails with the New Orleans Jazz, and with the Utah Jazz, and with the Boston Celtics. But mainly, Kriegel details the travails of Maravich’s life. And Pete Maravich endured many travails.
Pete Maravich was born in those same Pennsylvania coal-mining towns that gave birth to Joe Namath and John Unitas. And like Namath and Unitas, Maravich was born with only goal: to play sports. But unlike Unitas and Namath, Maravich didn’t play basketball as a means to escape his life. He played basketball because he had to play basketball. Because basketball was the way to stay close to his dad, Press Maravich.
To Press Maravich, basketball was a means of salvation. It got him out of the coal mines, out of the coal mines. It let him see the United States. Press Maravich became one of the basketball pioneers. He played in the precursor to the NBA. He developed schemes that took basketball from a walk the ball up a court to the game to a fastbreak, multiple pass game that would dominate the NBA style of the 1970s and 1980s. And Press’ biggest project was his son, Pete.
Press taught Pete the fundamentals. But Press taught Pete the fancy moves. The fancy moves which would alienate Pete from his coaches and his teammates. And Press taught Pete those moves because Press, himself, was a coach, and Press recognized the uniqueness of his son.
Pete tried to escape Press once, when Pete was being recruited for college. But Press would be offered the job at a football school where basketball was an afterthought. And Pete would go with Press, and together, Pete and Press turned Louisiana State University into basketball country. And, as Pete would do in Atlanta, he would get a basketball arena built in Baton Rogue. Then, Pete would come to New Orleans and pack the Superdome full of people who came for one reason, to see the Pistol.
Kriegel’s book is a quick read, like his biography of Joe Namath. But it’s a fascinating read. And It’s fascinating because of the portrait of Pistol. A man who couldn’t win. A man who scored 40 points a game because he wanted to win, but a man who wanted to be liked by his teammates, and who would sulk and not shoot the ball, instead passing the ball to these teammates, who would then be angry because they thought that Pete was trying to tank game.
Kriegel’s book is a story of the prodigy who grew up to be one of the greatest players of his time. Unfortunately, it would only be after his death that his greatness would be recognized. And as Pete sought to reach his greatness, sought to win, sought to play the perfect game, Kriegel details how Pete lapsed into drunkenness, and into fads. He would be a vegetarian, he would be into kung fu. He believed that the UFO’s were coming to rescue him. He was a man who would become a survivalist, then he was a man who became an ardent Christian, hanging with James Dobson – the man famous for, among other things, claiming that SpongeBob SquarePants is a gay figure trying to recruit children into homosexuality. Pete Maravich is a man who lived for basketball. Who lived to play the perfect game. Who would retire and not pick up the ball for several years. He was a man who died on the basketball court, playing a pickup game with Dobson.
Kriegel implies that Pete Maravich, who died in his 40s, died a broken man, a man devastated by the death of his father only months before. A man who saw no reason to continue living. But Kriegel’s clear that, at his death, Maravich realizes that he had not been a failure. That he has, indeed, been one of the greatest players to ever set foot on the basketball court. A man who could do things that have still never been repeated. A man admired by the likes of Michael Jordan, Isaiah Thomas, and Charles Barkley. A man ahead of his time who saw the sport became what he, and his father, had prophesized.
Tom Cousins knew what Pete Maravich meant to his franchise when he ordered management to draft the Pistol. Press Maravich knew what his son meant to the future of the game when he started teaching him the game. Ultimately, Pete Maravich understood what he did to the game, for the game. He wasn’t accepted when he played. He was accepted when he died.
And Kriegel’s book details this all. He’s there at every step. Mark Kriegel does what every good biographer needs to do: he makes the reader live the life of the subject. The reader wallows in the lows of Pistol’s life, revels in the highs. The reader wants the answers for which Maravich spends most of his life seeking. The reader feels Christ reaching to him like He reached to Maravich, but the reader also feels that the UFO’s are coming to rescue us.
And, this reader feels that final truth that Kriegel touches on. Pistol Pete Maravich played as a basketball outcast, accepted only after his retirement. But the Pistol would be the outcast, once again, in today’s basketball. A game dominated by coaches who take away freedom from players. A game where only a couple of the thirty teams can play fastbreak basketball, a game where one franchise, the Los Angeles Lakers, stole Maravich’s "showtime" basketball concept only to revert to the slowdown.
Maravich, and Kriegel, and the reader, understood that basketball was entertainment. And that the entertainment put the fans in the stands. And that entertainment was provided by the players, not by the cheerleaders, the mascots, the loud music, or the halftime shows.
Pete Maravich may have saved the game for Tom Cousins. But who’s going to save it for today’s fan? Alas, Kriegel can’t provide these answers. But it’s sure fun reading about the man who saved the Atlanta Hawks.
Coming Attractions
I'm working on a few book reviews, including one on the new book about Pete Maravich, and I also hope to give some Oscar predictions. So, please come back. And I hope you enjoy the Martin Scorsese post below, and you're always welcome to post comments.
Thanks for reading.
Thanks for reading.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Departing The Departed Consensus
So, it's Oscar time, yet again. And yet again, Martin Scorsese has a film nominated for Best Picture while he's nominated for Best Director. I write "yet again" because while Scorsese's seemingly nominated for every film that he makes, he's yet to win one of the coveted awards.
The conventional wisdom is that this is the year that Scorsese wins. This is the year that the man responsible for Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and Goodfellas will finally win his gold statue. He's due, after all. He's one of our greatest living filmmakers. He's getting old, and he needs to be honored before he stops working. Before he dies.
There are a couple of problems with this thinking.
Problem number one: two of the greatest filmmakers ever, Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick, were never awarded with Oscars for their work. From 1964-1975, Kubrick made four movies. Three of these movies dominate the best ever films of all-time discussions. Three of them were nominated for Best Picture. Kubrick got a Best Director nomination for each. Yet, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb, 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange, and Barry Lyndon all lost.
Kubrick's the man responsible for the penultimate Jack Nicholson performance -- the last great Nicholoson performance. Nicholson playing Jack Torrance in The Shining in the performance that's come to define Nicholson. It's the performance that Nicholson now gives whenever he doesn't feel like acting. And Kubrick gave new meaning to "Singing In The Rain," and made most of mankind fear computers. Yet, he never won (yes, he did accept an Oscar for the special effects from 2001, but I don't count that).
And sure, Hitchcock made some bad movies, especially late in his career. But he made classics like Pyscho, The Birds, North By Northwest, To Catch A Thief, Rebecca, Rear Window, etc. And virtually every filmmaker's attempted a version of Vertigo, especially Brian De Palma, who's tried it time and time again. Hell, De Palma's made his career from ripping off every Hitchcock film (De Palma even ripped off Kubrick). And Hitchcock turned loveable Jimmy Stewart into the brooding James Stewart, a moody, angry man capable of inspiring murder.
Problem number two: Scorsese shouldn't win just because he's never won. The Oscars are supposed to award the best achievements in film for that year. It's not supposed to be a lifetime achievement award. But if that's the deal, then I better see Peter O'Toole climbing up on that stage to grasp the Best Actor Oscar on Sunday night.
Problem number three: Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and Goodfellas are among the greatest films ever made, but these films aren't nominated this year. Scorsese scored the nominations for The Departed. Now, The Departed's a good movie, but it's not great. Sure, it's Scorsese's best movie since Goodfellas, but really, look at what he's done in the intervening time. Casino, that's just a Goodfellas-lite. Gangs of New York? It's an horrific mess redeemed only by one of the great performances of all time, Daniel Day Lewis as Bill The Butcher. Cape Fear was a good, commercial thriller. But anybody could make that type of movie. Same for the The Age of Innocence. And The Aviator is a shallow, glossy biopic that left me with zero understanding of what made Howard Hughes tick.
Like I said, The Departed's a good movie. I can't understand why Matt Damon didn't get a nomination for Best Oscar. Alec Baldwin kills, as does Martin Sheen. Mark Wahlberg truly deserves his nomination. But the movie's nothing that Scorsese's not done before. Done before and done better. It's his New York gangsters, but transplanted to Boston. The dialogue's good, though, if one's going to try to do David Mamet, perhaps one should just get David Mamet. It's got good pacing. Double and triple crosses. It's violent, with lots of blood and gunfire. But it's lacking the nerve, the edginess, the darkness, the wit, the intelligence of the three classics.
The Departed will probably win the Best Picture Oscar. Scorsese will probably get his Best Director Oscar. But it's ashame that it's for this movie, because it's this movie that most clearly shows that Scorsese's stopped evolving, stopped growing as a director, as an artist. There's nothing in here that he's never done before, never tried before. No camera move, no edit, no music choice, no character, no dialogue. It's the same tricks that he's done before. Done before and done better.
And that's why it's appropriate, but not probable, that Clint Eastwood should beat out Scorsese again. Because, even in his mid-70s, Eastwood's tackling new subjects, doing things he's never before done. Eastwood started as a slick, commercial director, but he's evolved into an artist. Eastwood couldn't have made Letters from Iwo Jima twenty years ago, nor Million Dollar Baby. Pale Rider hinted at what would become Unforgiven, and the Dirty Harry movies had a hint of a man who could film Mystic River, but his work was that of Cape Fear before Scorsese got the script for Cape Fear. Scorsese started as an artist, but he's become the slick hack. Eastwood started as the slick hack, but now he's become the artist.
Scorsese probably gets this Oscar. But it's not for The Departed, it's for the ghosts. Sure, later's better than never, but don't try to tell me that he's being awarded for making a great movie in 2006. Scorsese hasn't made a great movie since 1990.
I don't anxiously await Scorsese's next movie. I wouldn't have believed that twenty years ago. But I can't wait for Eastwood's next movie, and that's something that I didn't think I would've said twenty years ago.
The conventional wisdom is that this is the year that Scorsese wins. This is the year that the man responsible for Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and Goodfellas will finally win his gold statue. He's due, after all. He's one of our greatest living filmmakers. He's getting old, and he needs to be honored before he stops working. Before he dies.
There are a couple of problems with this thinking.
Problem number one: two of the greatest filmmakers ever, Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick, were never awarded with Oscars for their work. From 1964-1975, Kubrick made four movies. Three of these movies dominate the best ever films of all-time discussions. Three of them were nominated for Best Picture. Kubrick got a Best Director nomination for each. Yet, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb, 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange, and Barry Lyndon all lost.
Kubrick's the man responsible for the penultimate Jack Nicholson performance -- the last great Nicholoson performance. Nicholson playing Jack Torrance in The Shining in the performance that's come to define Nicholson. It's the performance that Nicholson now gives whenever he doesn't feel like acting. And Kubrick gave new meaning to "Singing In The Rain," and made most of mankind fear computers. Yet, he never won (yes, he did accept an Oscar for the special effects from 2001, but I don't count that).
And sure, Hitchcock made some bad movies, especially late in his career. But he made classics like Pyscho, The Birds, North By Northwest, To Catch A Thief, Rebecca, Rear Window, etc. And virtually every filmmaker's attempted a version of Vertigo, especially Brian De Palma, who's tried it time and time again. Hell, De Palma's made his career from ripping off every Hitchcock film (De Palma even ripped off Kubrick). And Hitchcock turned loveable Jimmy Stewart into the brooding James Stewart, a moody, angry man capable of inspiring murder.
Problem number two: Scorsese shouldn't win just because he's never won. The Oscars are supposed to award the best achievements in film for that year. It's not supposed to be a lifetime achievement award. But if that's the deal, then I better see Peter O'Toole climbing up on that stage to grasp the Best Actor Oscar on Sunday night.
Problem number three: Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and Goodfellas are among the greatest films ever made, but these films aren't nominated this year. Scorsese scored the nominations for The Departed. Now, The Departed's a good movie, but it's not great. Sure, it's Scorsese's best movie since Goodfellas, but really, look at what he's done in the intervening time. Casino, that's just a Goodfellas-lite. Gangs of New York? It's an horrific mess redeemed only by one of the great performances of all time, Daniel Day Lewis as Bill The Butcher. Cape Fear was a good, commercial thriller. But anybody could make that type of movie. Same for the The Age of Innocence. And The Aviator is a shallow, glossy biopic that left me with zero understanding of what made Howard Hughes tick.
Like I said, The Departed's a good movie. I can't understand why Matt Damon didn't get a nomination for Best Oscar. Alec Baldwin kills, as does Martin Sheen. Mark Wahlberg truly deserves his nomination. But the movie's nothing that Scorsese's not done before. Done before and done better. It's his New York gangsters, but transplanted to Boston. The dialogue's good, though, if one's going to try to do David Mamet, perhaps one should just get David Mamet. It's got good pacing. Double and triple crosses. It's violent, with lots of blood and gunfire. But it's lacking the nerve, the edginess, the darkness, the wit, the intelligence of the three classics.
The Departed will probably win the Best Picture Oscar. Scorsese will probably get his Best Director Oscar. But it's ashame that it's for this movie, because it's this movie that most clearly shows that Scorsese's stopped evolving, stopped growing as a director, as an artist. There's nothing in here that he's never done before, never tried before. No camera move, no edit, no music choice, no character, no dialogue. It's the same tricks that he's done before. Done before and done better.
And that's why it's appropriate, but not probable, that Clint Eastwood should beat out Scorsese again. Because, even in his mid-70s, Eastwood's tackling new subjects, doing things he's never before done. Eastwood started as a slick, commercial director, but he's evolved into an artist. Eastwood couldn't have made Letters from Iwo Jima twenty years ago, nor Million Dollar Baby. Pale Rider hinted at what would become Unforgiven, and the Dirty Harry movies had a hint of a man who could film Mystic River, but his work was that of Cape Fear before Scorsese got the script for Cape Fear. Scorsese started as an artist, but he's become the slick hack. Eastwood started as the slick hack, but now he's become the artist.
Scorsese probably gets this Oscar. But it's not for The Departed, it's for the ghosts. Sure, later's better than never, but don't try to tell me that he's being awarded for making a great movie in 2006. Scorsese hasn't made a great movie since 1990.
I don't anxiously await Scorsese's next movie. I wouldn't have believed that twenty years ago. But I can't wait for Eastwood's next movie, and that's something that I didn't think I would've said twenty years ago.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
And Speaking of Movies...
I'm doing some research for some longer posts, until then, I suggest that, on Friday, you head over to my friend Mike's blog and check out his Friday Silly Movie of His Youth. It's generally something that you, too, watched back in the 70s or 80s, and now can't believe that you watched. It's probably a bad movie, but so bad that you have to watch every time it comes on the boob tube. Hell, you might even have rented it. So, go on over, I'm sure Mike won't mind the visitors commenting on how he wasted his youth watching really bad movies.
Though, I still say that, until he writes about Xanadu, he can't really write about bad, silly movies.
Though, I still say that, until he writes about Xanadu, he can't really write about bad, silly movies.
Little Miss Backlash
There's an interesting story in today's Slate questioning the critical backlash to Little Miss Sunshine. The author's a fan of the movie, and is of the opinion that the backlash arises from the film being one of those quirky Sundance festival movies.
Now, I viewed Little Miss Sunshine. I thought it was a good movie. Not great. Not bad. Good. It's a comedy. And there are some laughs. Not as many as there should be in a comedy, but there are laughs. I don't think it should've been nominated for the best picture Oscar. And I think it was too critically acclaimed on the basis that it was quirky Sundance festival movie.
Steve Carrell's very good in the movie. He plays against type. He's very good at playing against type. Alan Arkin, as the heroin-addicted grandpa's good. Greg Kinnear's good. Toni Collett's good. The little girl's good. The whole cast is good.
But that's the problem. The movie is just good.
Here's the deal. The characters of a movie should inhabit the world of the movie. Sure, there aren't ghosts, but damn it, you believe that Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd are living in a world with ghosts -- their characters aren't made quirky, then the movie is fit around them. The movie idea arises, and the characters are created that would inhabit that universe.
With Little Miss Sunshine, I get the idea that screenwriter got this idea: hey, let's get a heroin-addicted grandpa living with his fat granddaughter who wants to be a beauty contestant. Let's get the serious son who's a failure as a motivational speaker. There's the gay brother-in-law who's the Proust scholar. And the teen age boy who's taken a vow silence and wants to be a fighter pilot. Then given these characters, it was decided, okay, now we need a plot.
Because, really, this whole plot exists to service the characters. It exists for quirkiness. To show just how smart the filmmakers are. And it just doesn't work like it's supposed to work.
And maybe that's why there's a backlash against the movie. People who, like me, have wondered why, over the years, a real comedy can't be nominated for an Oscar?
Now, I viewed Little Miss Sunshine. I thought it was a good movie. Not great. Not bad. Good. It's a comedy. And there are some laughs. Not as many as there should be in a comedy, but there are laughs. I don't think it should've been nominated for the best picture Oscar. And I think it was too critically acclaimed on the basis that it was quirky Sundance festival movie.
Steve Carrell's very good in the movie. He plays against type. He's very good at playing against type. Alan Arkin, as the heroin-addicted grandpa's good. Greg Kinnear's good. Toni Collett's good. The little girl's good. The whole cast is good.
But that's the problem. The movie is just good.
Here's the deal. The characters of a movie should inhabit the world of the movie. Sure, there aren't ghosts, but damn it, you believe that Bill Murray and Dan Aykroyd are living in a world with ghosts -- their characters aren't made quirky, then the movie is fit around them. The movie idea arises, and the characters are created that would inhabit that universe.
With Little Miss Sunshine, I get the idea that screenwriter got this idea: hey, let's get a heroin-addicted grandpa living with his fat granddaughter who wants to be a beauty contestant. Let's get the serious son who's a failure as a motivational speaker. There's the gay brother-in-law who's the Proust scholar. And the teen age boy who's taken a vow silence and wants to be a fighter pilot. Then given these characters, it was decided, okay, now we need a plot.
Because, really, this whole plot exists to service the characters. It exists for quirkiness. To show just how smart the filmmakers are. And it just doesn't work like it's supposed to work.
And maybe that's why there's a backlash against the movie. People who, like me, have wondered why, over the years, a real comedy can't be nominated for an Oscar?
Tears of a Clown
This story saddens the Clown. And troubles him. I also think that it's a hint that I should stay the hell out of Colombia.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Pardon the Interruption
I thought that I posted this last night, only to discover this morning that there were problems. So pardon the interruption of the interruption.
I promise plenty of long postings later this week, but until then, why don't you just wander over to You Tube and amuse yourself with the adventures of Chad Vader, Darth Vader's younger brother.
Enjoy.
I promise plenty of long postings later this week, but until then, why don't you just wander over to You Tube and amuse yourself with the adventures of Chad Vader, Darth Vader's younger brother.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Hide the Cache
Ron Howard directed the thriller Ransom back in the mid-90s. It starred Mel Gibson as the head of an airline who's son is kidnapped. Thus the title. What I remember most about the movie is the review of the Houston Chronicle's then film critic, Jeff Millar, who raved about the movie's European ending.
What I took that to mean was that the film had some kind of dark twist the very end. That it did something that one wouldn't expect from a Hollywood film directed by Ron Howard and starring Mel Gibson. Sure, the ending was a bit darker than the average Hollywood thriller, but I didn't get an European feel from it; sure, maybe for the people who never saw independent films from Europe, it my have a strange feel, but Millar should've known better. He was a film critic. He reviewed virtually every movie that made it to Houston, and that included some European films.
What's this got to do with anything? Well, I've read that Ron Howard's producing partner, Brian Grazer, has purchased the rights to an European film known as Cache. Cache was neat little French thriller that made it to the States in late 2005. I saw it because of Juliette Binoche. I knew it was a thriller, but I love her smile, so I was hoping that thriller aside, she'd smile a lot.
I was out of luck. This was dark, disturbing, suspense thriller about a family that finds every aspect of their lives being videotaped, with the videotapes being mailed to them, so that they could watch. I won't give away any more plot details. Just let it be said that this film has the "European ending" that Millar raves about. It's sudden. It's shocking. It's dark. You're left there shaking your head.
It's an excellent movie.
And Ron Howard should leave it alone.
I like Ron Howard. He's made some very good, very commercial movies. Apollo 13 is excellent. I loved Night Shift and Splash. A Beautiful Mind is a very good movie -- though slightly overrated, that benefits from excellent performances by Russell Crowe and Jennifer Connelly (though Crowe's best work is still L.A. Confidential and The Insider. And if you want really good Jennifer Connelly, I'd recommend House of Sand and Fog, and 2005's very underrated horror thriller, Dark Water). But Howard's a hack. Did you see The Paper? Cinderella Man was awful. And how could one screw up The DaVinci Code -- well, by casting Tom Hanks for starters.
Cache should be left alone. There are just somethings that Hollywood can't make better. I can see Howard turning this into a big action suspense thriller with an emphasis on the action -- of which Cache has thankfully little. He'll probably try to put Renee Zellweger or Julia Roberts into Binoche's role (thinking about this, Jennifer Connelly might be perfect). I don't want to think about the male lead -- maybe Crowe again, maybe Hanks.
I don't know which American/Hollywood director I would want to touch this. Michael Mann might be able to pull it off, if he reins in his capacity for excesses. Brian Singer might pull it off, if he can get away from Superman. Christopher Nolan might be good. Steven Soderbergh would be really good if he can get pulled away from those Danny Ocean movies. But I don't care. I don't want any of them touching this movie.
Cache is a treasure. A little hidden treasure. And I don't want Ron and Brian ruining it for me.
What I took that to mean was that the film had some kind of dark twist the very end. That it did something that one wouldn't expect from a Hollywood film directed by Ron Howard and starring Mel Gibson. Sure, the ending was a bit darker than the average Hollywood thriller, but I didn't get an European feel from it; sure, maybe for the people who never saw independent films from Europe, it my have a strange feel, but Millar should've known better. He was a film critic. He reviewed virtually every movie that made it to Houston, and that included some European films.
What's this got to do with anything? Well, I've read that Ron Howard's producing partner, Brian Grazer, has purchased the rights to an European film known as Cache. Cache was neat little French thriller that made it to the States in late 2005. I saw it because of Juliette Binoche. I knew it was a thriller, but I love her smile, so I was hoping that thriller aside, she'd smile a lot.
I was out of luck. This was dark, disturbing, suspense thriller about a family that finds every aspect of their lives being videotaped, with the videotapes being mailed to them, so that they could watch. I won't give away any more plot details. Just let it be said that this film has the "European ending" that Millar raves about. It's sudden. It's shocking. It's dark. You're left there shaking your head.
It's an excellent movie.
And Ron Howard should leave it alone.
I like Ron Howard. He's made some very good, very commercial movies. Apollo 13 is excellent. I loved Night Shift and Splash. A Beautiful Mind is a very good movie -- though slightly overrated, that benefits from excellent performances by Russell Crowe and Jennifer Connelly (though Crowe's best work is still L.A. Confidential and The Insider. And if you want really good Jennifer Connelly, I'd recommend House of Sand and Fog, and 2005's very underrated horror thriller, Dark Water). But Howard's a hack. Did you see The Paper? Cinderella Man was awful. And how could one screw up The DaVinci Code -- well, by casting Tom Hanks for starters.
Cache should be left alone. There are just somethings that Hollywood can't make better. I can see Howard turning this into a big action suspense thriller with an emphasis on the action -- of which Cache has thankfully little. He'll probably try to put Renee Zellweger or Julia Roberts into Binoche's role (thinking about this, Jennifer Connelly might be perfect). I don't want to think about the male lead -- maybe Crowe again, maybe Hanks.
I don't know which American/Hollywood director I would want to touch this. Michael Mann might be able to pull it off, if he reins in his capacity for excesses. Brian Singer might pull it off, if he can get away from Superman. Christopher Nolan might be good. Steven Soderbergh would be really good if he can get pulled away from those Danny Ocean movies. But I don't care. I don't want any of them touching this movie.
Cache is a treasure. A little hidden treasure. And I don't want Ron and Brian ruining it for me.
Mocking the Vunerable
Craig Ferguson, host of The Late, Late Show, stated that he wouldn't mock Britney Spears on his show. The reasoning was simple, and logical: "For me, comedy should have a certain amount of joy in it," Ferguson said. "It should be about attacking the powerful — the politicians, the Trumps, the blowhards — going after them. We shouldn't be attacking the vulnerable."
And he finds Ms. Spears to be incredibly vunerable at the moment.
Now, it can be argued that Ms. Spears is one of the powerful, one of the blowhard, one of the Trumps, and it's argument that you'd win. But I'm using Mr. Ferguson's reasoning for another point. Comedy's supposed to be about attacking the powerful, the monied, not the vunerable. And that's why I don't think Fox New Channel's The 1/2 Hour News Hour is funny.
For comedy to work, you can't limit your attack zone. And Joel Surnow made it clear that Bush and the Republicans were off the hook because he wanted to add some balance. Sure, comedy's about balance, it's about balancing the scales and putting the vunerable at the same level as the powerful. That's what The Daily Show does. Why it's so good. It attacks the pompous, no matter the politics. It goes after Obama and Dubya. Hillary and Laura. They don't care. And sure, since the Republicans have the White House, and since the Republicans have been running things for awhile, they're the powerful interest that is going to be attacked the most-- they're the blowhards. But comedy's not about providing balance to protect the powerful from the vunerable.
Yet, that's just what Surnow wants to do. He wants to balance the scales by attacking the vunerable. Those who can't fight back. He wants the scales balanced, but only so that the interests of the powerful outweight all others. Surnow wants a half hour of Britney jokes. We deserve better. And thanks, in a way, to Ferguson, maybe we'll get it.
And he finds Ms. Spears to be incredibly vunerable at the moment.
Now, it can be argued that Ms. Spears is one of the powerful, one of the blowhard, one of the Trumps, and it's argument that you'd win. But I'm using Mr. Ferguson's reasoning for another point. Comedy's supposed to be about attacking the powerful, the monied, not the vunerable. And that's why I don't think Fox New Channel's The 1/2 Hour News Hour is funny.
For comedy to work, you can't limit your attack zone. And Joel Surnow made it clear that Bush and the Republicans were off the hook because he wanted to add some balance. Sure, comedy's about balance, it's about balancing the scales and putting the vunerable at the same level as the powerful. That's what The Daily Show does. Why it's so good. It attacks the pompous, no matter the politics. It goes after Obama and Dubya. Hillary and Laura. They don't care. And sure, since the Republicans have the White House, and since the Republicans have been running things for awhile, they're the powerful interest that is going to be attacked the most-- they're the blowhards. But comedy's not about providing balance to protect the powerful from the vunerable.
Yet, that's just what Surnow wants to do. He wants to balance the scales by attacking the vunerable. Those who can't fight back. He wants the scales balanced, but only so that the interests of the powerful outweight all others. Surnow wants a half hour of Britney jokes. We deserve better. And thanks, in a way, to Ferguson, maybe we'll get it.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Stupid, It Burns
Okay, so I'm taking advantage of the holiday by doing nothing. In other words, I'm playing couch potato and I'm watching ESPN, or rather, I'm watching the trash sports program known as Around the Horn.
For those unfamiliar with this program, it features four so-called newspaper writer and columnists -- so-called because some, like Jay Mariotti, a hack in all meaning of the word, has taken a leave of asbsence from his daytime writing job to concentrate on the boob tube -- discussing the sports news of the day.
Today, while discussing last week's Tim Hardaway fracas, one of these writers pontificated that the First Amendment was around to protect people like Hardaway, to allow them to speak their minds without fear of retribution.
Now, it's always been my understanding that journalists are college graduates. And one would think that a college graduate, especially a journalist, would know a little something about the U.S. Constitution. Even more, one would think that such a journalism graduate would have taken a class on media law -- I know that as a media undergrad I had to take a media law class. Thus, it's not only us a lawyers who should know this basic aspect of the First Amendment:
It only applies to government speech. It means that you can't be punished by the government for the statements that you make. The government shall make no law to abridge the freedom of speech. There's nothing in the amendment, or in court decisions, that prohibit a private entity from punishing someone for their comments. Thus, as much as I disagreed with it, there was no First Amendment violation with the treatment of the Dixie Chicks by country radio. Major League Baseball was free to punish John Rocker earlier in the decade for his racist comments.
Now, if George W. Bush were to seek jail the Dixie Chicks for their statements, the First Amendment would come into play, and it would protect the Chicks -- well, at least it should, but Dubya's never shown much affection or understanding of the Constitution.
So, to sum up: the First Amendment protects you from government retribution for your comments. The First Amendment's got no rule to play when the NBA goes about punishing Tim Hardaway. And one would think that a journalist would understand this distinction.
Then again, we are talking about sports writers.
For those unfamiliar with this program, it features four so-called newspaper writer and columnists -- so-called because some, like Jay Mariotti, a hack in all meaning of the word, has taken a leave of asbsence from his daytime writing job to concentrate on the boob tube -- discussing the sports news of the day.
Today, while discussing last week's Tim Hardaway fracas, one of these writers pontificated that the First Amendment was around to protect people like Hardaway, to allow them to speak their minds without fear of retribution.
Now, it's always been my understanding that journalists are college graduates. And one would think that a college graduate, especially a journalist, would know a little something about the U.S. Constitution. Even more, one would think that such a journalism graduate would have taken a class on media law -- I know that as a media undergrad I had to take a media law class. Thus, it's not only us a lawyers who should know this basic aspect of the First Amendment:
It only applies to government speech. It means that you can't be punished by the government for the statements that you make. The government shall make no law to abridge the freedom of speech. There's nothing in the amendment, or in court decisions, that prohibit a private entity from punishing someone for their comments. Thus, as much as I disagreed with it, there was no First Amendment violation with the treatment of the Dixie Chicks by country radio. Major League Baseball was free to punish John Rocker earlier in the decade for his racist comments.
Now, if George W. Bush were to seek jail the Dixie Chicks for their statements, the First Amendment would come into play, and it would protect the Chicks -- well, at least it should, but Dubya's never shown much affection or understanding of the Constitution.
So, to sum up: the First Amendment protects you from government retribution for your comments. The First Amendment's got no rule to play when the NBA goes about punishing Tim Hardaway. And one would think that a journalist would understand this distinction.
Then again, we are talking about sports writers.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
PTPer, BABY!!!
So, I'm sitting on Row F at Hofheinz Pavillion, just on the corner, watching one of my alma matters, the University of Houston Cougars, shoot brick after brick after brick, yet still find a way to defeat the University of Alabama Birmingham Blazers. It's one of the worst officiated college games that I've seen in years. It's one of those games where I'm pretty sure that, after the game, the refs will be talking about what a great game they called because both of the coaches were so angry with them -- and if both teams are unhappy, then you must have been doing the job correctly. Right?
The place is nearly empty. I don't care what the PR department says. And I find myself looking around, up around the rafters. I see the retired jerseys for Clyde Drexler. For Hakeem Olajuwon. For Elvin Hayes and Otis Birdsong. I see the Final Four Banners. I see that the UH is coached by Tom Penders, a man who's experienced glory with major Division One teams. Same for the UAB coach, Mike Davis. And I think, how'd they end up coaching in Conference USA. A conference which, if it were not for Memphis, would have difficulty reaching a mid-major status. I see that they're playing the game on the Guy V. Lewis Court.
And I understand. It's all Guy V. Lewis' fault. After all, how else can one explain the situation the University of Houston basketball program is in? Forget Clyde the Glide. Hakeem the Dream. Forget that Guy V. Lewis brought college basketball into the modern era when he set up a little game in the late-1960s between the Coogs and a minor school known as the UCLA Bruins -- a team that featured some guy known as Lew Alcindor. Forget that this game was one of the first non-championship, nationally televised NCAA college basketball games, and that it featured the largest crowd ever to see a basketball game.
The University of Houston basketball program is in trouble, playing in a lousy conference, because Guy V. Lewis was a bum. He's got to be a bum, right? How else can one explain that Guy Lewis has yet to be inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame?
Sure, he never won a national championship. You've got to win one of those to get in as a coach. Well, not exactly. Among this year's coaching nominees are Eddie Sutton and Van Chancellor. Eddie Sutton never won a championship, and his legacy was almost that of the one that destroyed the basketball program at the University of Kentucky. And Van Chancellor? I bet most of you don't even know who he is. Well, for the uninitiated, Mr. Chancellor's claim to fame is that when he couldn't hack it as a college coach, he came to the WNBA. And, even though he won a few titles as coach of the Houston Comets, they've yet to name it the Van Chancellor Floor at the Toyata Center.
Well, they're just nominees. They probably won't get in because of that lack of championship thing. Except for the fact that John Chaney was recently inducted, and he never got a team into the Final Four, much less won a championship.
Well, maybe Guy V. Lewis just didn't innovate enough. That's possible. After all, Don Haskins has been inducted. And not only did Haskins win a title, he won the first NCAA basketball team with an integrated team. And Haskins coached a team from the South, where blacks playing with whites was a major hanging offense. Except for one thing, Guy V. Lewis was the first coach to integrate a major Southern college program -- that's right, he did it before Haskins. But then again, they've never made a movie about Guy V. Lewis.
So, maybe he just wasn't that great a coach. After all, he never won a title. But it's kind of funny that a guy who couldn't coach would produce three of the greatest players in NBA history. And it's kind of funny that a guy who couldn't coach made the Final Four four times, and made the Championship Game twice, whereas a guy who could coach, Sutton, never made it to that final game.
Guy V. Lewis must be a bum. Or else he'd be in an institution that includes the guy who invented the high-top sneaker.
And, it's not like Guy V. Lewis has had the career of another of 2007's nominees, Dick Vitale. Sure, Dick Vitale was a mediocre coach. It's not like there's a Dick Vitale Pavillion at the University of Detroit. And it's not like the Pistons are playing on the Dick Vitale Court at the Palace of Auburn Hills. It's not like Guy V.'s a mediocre television commentator who makes up for his lack of knowledge by shouting, screaming, and making up nicknames -- Guy V. Lewis did University of Houston radio analysis for several years after his retirement. He was concise. He made good points. He explained strategy. God, it's no wonder he never made it to a national network.
Sure, Guy V.'s 1983 Cougar team lost one of the most famous championship games in NCAA history. CBS shows the play every year, the underdog N.C. State Wolfpack hitting a shot over Hakeem Olajuwon with the clock hitting zero and Jimmy Valvano running onto the court like a mad man. And, sure he lost in another Final Four to a North Carolina team that fielded Michael Jordan, James Worthy, and Sam Perkins. And he lost in another championsip game to a Georgetown team featuring Patrick Ewing.
But then again, Guy V. never threatened to kill an opposing coach, like John Chaney did. And Guy V. never sent out the goon squad to send a player to the hospital, like Chaney. And Guy V. never threw a chair at a ref. And Guy V. never choked a player, or took a bullwhip to a player. And Guy V. never had to resign from his program in disgrace because he was an alcoholic.
Yeah, I guess I can understand how the Basketball Hall of Fame could keep Guy V. Lewis out. What's he ever done as a coach? As a human being? What's he ever done for the game of basketball?
After all, he's not a PTPer, BABY!!!!
The place is nearly empty. I don't care what the PR department says. And I find myself looking around, up around the rafters. I see the retired jerseys for Clyde Drexler. For Hakeem Olajuwon. For Elvin Hayes and Otis Birdsong. I see the Final Four Banners. I see that the UH is coached by Tom Penders, a man who's experienced glory with major Division One teams. Same for the UAB coach, Mike Davis. And I think, how'd they end up coaching in Conference USA. A conference which, if it were not for Memphis, would have difficulty reaching a mid-major status. I see that they're playing the game on the Guy V. Lewis Court.
And I understand. It's all Guy V. Lewis' fault. After all, how else can one explain the situation the University of Houston basketball program is in? Forget Clyde the Glide. Hakeem the Dream. Forget that Guy V. Lewis brought college basketball into the modern era when he set up a little game in the late-1960s between the Coogs and a minor school known as the UCLA Bruins -- a team that featured some guy known as Lew Alcindor. Forget that this game was one of the first non-championship, nationally televised NCAA college basketball games, and that it featured the largest crowd ever to see a basketball game.
The University of Houston basketball program is in trouble, playing in a lousy conference, because Guy V. Lewis was a bum. He's got to be a bum, right? How else can one explain that Guy Lewis has yet to be inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame?
Sure, he never won a national championship. You've got to win one of those to get in as a coach. Well, not exactly. Among this year's coaching nominees are Eddie Sutton and Van Chancellor. Eddie Sutton never won a championship, and his legacy was almost that of the one that destroyed the basketball program at the University of Kentucky. And Van Chancellor? I bet most of you don't even know who he is. Well, for the uninitiated, Mr. Chancellor's claim to fame is that when he couldn't hack it as a college coach, he came to the WNBA. And, even though he won a few titles as coach of the Houston Comets, they've yet to name it the Van Chancellor Floor at the Toyata Center.
Well, they're just nominees. They probably won't get in because of that lack of championship thing. Except for the fact that John Chaney was recently inducted, and he never got a team into the Final Four, much less won a championship.
Well, maybe Guy V. Lewis just didn't innovate enough. That's possible. After all, Don Haskins has been inducted. And not only did Haskins win a title, he won the first NCAA basketball team with an integrated team. And Haskins coached a team from the South, where blacks playing with whites was a major hanging offense. Except for one thing, Guy V. Lewis was the first coach to integrate a major Southern college program -- that's right, he did it before Haskins. But then again, they've never made a movie about Guy V. Lewis.
So, maybe he just wasn't that great a coach. After all, he never won a title. But it's kind of funny that a guy who couldn't coach would produce three of the greatest players in NBA history. And it's kind of funny that a guy who couldn't coach made the Final Four four times, and made the Championship Game twice, whereas a guy who could coach, Sutton, never made it to that final game.
Guy V. Lewis must be a bum. Or else he'd be in an institution that includes the guy who invented the high-top sneaker.
And, it's not like Guy V. Lewis has had the career of another of 2007's nominees, Dick Vitale. Sure, Dick Vitale was a mediocre coach. It's not like there's a Dick Vitale Pavillion at the University of Detroit. And it's not like the Pistons are playing on the Dick Vitale Court at the Palace of Auburn Hills. It's not like Guy V.'s a mediocre television commentator who makes up for his lack of knowledge by shouting, screaming, and making up nicknames -- Guy V. Lewis did University of Houston radio analysis for several years after his retirement. He was concise. He made good points. He explained strategy. God, it's no wonder he never made it to a national network.
Sure, Guy V.'s 1983 Cougar team lost one of the most famous championship games in NCAA history. CBS shows the play every year, the underdog N.C. State Wolfpack hitting a shot over Hakeem Olajuwon with the clock hitting zero and Jimmy Valvano running onto the court like a mad man. And, sure he lost in another Final Four to a North Carolina team that fielded Michael Jordan, James Worthy, and Sam Perkins. And he lost in another championsip game to a Georgetown team featuring Patrick Ewing.
But then again, Guy V. never threatened to kill an opposing coach, like John Chaney did. And Guy V. never sent out the goon squad to send a player to the hospital, like Chaney. And Guy V. never threw a chair at a ref. And Guy V. never choked a player, or took a bullwhip to a player. And Guy V. never had to resign from his program in disgrace because he was an alcoholic.
Yeah, I guess I can understand how the Basketball Hall of Fame could keep Guy V. Lewis out. What's he ever done as a coach? As a human being? What's he ever done for the game of basketball?
After all, he's not a PTPer, BABY!!!!
Saturday, February 17, 2007
The Comical Comedy of the Comical Chronicle, Part the Even More Continued
As I wrote, here, and here, the Houston Chronicle wrote quite eloquently about the late Molly Ivins, but as I stated, the Comical failed to mention that it refused to run Ms. Ivins' work while she lived.
Well, thanks to Houston' s alternative weekly, the Houston Press, it's learned that the Comical was angry with Ms. Ivins because, years ago, she dared to insult the publisher and editor of the Comical. So, even though the Comical has a new owner, and a new editor, it still refused to run her columns.
It was nice of the Comical to write politely about Ms. Ivins, but it would've been better if they would have acknowledged her while she was still alive.
Well, thanks to Houston' s alternative weekly, the Houston Press, it's learned that the Comical was angry with Ms. Ivins because, years ago, she dared to insult the publisher and editor of the Comical. So, even though the Comical has a new owner, and a new editor, it still refused to run her columns.
It was nice of the Comical to write politely about Ms. Ivins, but it would've been better if they would have acknowledged her while she was still alive.
Friday, February 16, 2007
The Stupidest Person on the Face of the Earth
It's about one hour and twenty minutes into Ruthless People. Danny DeVito's making the drop, giving the cash to the kidnappers of his wife -- a wife that he actually wants dead. Judge Reinhold, the kidnapper, takes the money and starts to walk away, only to have hundreds of cops surround him, weapons drawn. Enter Bill Pullman, in full 80s regalia, including the jacket with sleeves pulled up to his elbows, the bright blonde hair with dark roots, and the 2-day growth of a beard. He pulls a gun on Reinhold, takes the money, and tries to run. Pullman's the lover of DeVito's mistress, and they're also trying to rip off DeVito.
As Pullman tries to leave, the cops shoot out one of the tires of his AMC Gremlin. He looks about, puzzled, trying to figure out what's going on. Prompting one of the cops to say to his partner: "This could very well be the stupidest person on the face of the earth."
I bring this up because, today, while debating Bush's surge in Iraq, Alabama Senator, Republican Jeff Sessions made a statement that Iraq had to be invaded to prevent Saddam Hussein from claiming that he'd won the 1991 Gulf War.
So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jeff Sessions, quite possibly the stupidest person on the face of the earth.
As Pullman tries to leave, the cops shoot out one of the tires of his AMC Gremlin. He looks about, puzzled, trying to figure out what's going on. Prompting one of the cops to say to his partner: "This could very well be the stupidest person on the face of the earth."
I bring this up because, today, while debating Bush's surge in Iraq, Alabama Senator, Republican Jeff Sessions made a statement that Iraq had to be invaded to prevent Saddam Hussein from claiming that he'd won the 1991 Gulf War.
So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jeff Sessions, quite possibly the stupidest person on the face of the earth.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Yeah, But Is It Funny?
The 1/2 Hour News Hour premiers Sunday night on the Fox News Channel. Creator Joel Surnow calls it the conservative answer to The Daily Show.
Surnow's the creator of 24. And, judging by his resume, Surnow's not done much with comedy. But that's okay, a comedy background isn't a prerequisite for making a funny program -- see, Miller, Dennis and his CNBC show.
Now let's look at the reasoning behind the show. Surnow states in interviews that it's a response to The Daily Show and Saturday Night Live, programs that poke fun at the president and conservative lawmakers. You know what, Surnow's right. Those programs do make fun of Bush and conservatives. But, from what little my studies of comedy have revealed, one of the goals of comedy is to poke fun at the big guy. To bring the people in power down to the level of the commoners. Surnow himself even acknowledges this, saying in one interview that Bush has brought many of his problems upon himself -- like he's just asking for that Will Ferrell impersonation. But, says Surnow, things need to be balanced out. When pressed, Surnow further acknowledges that it's kind of hard to poke fun at those who aren't in charge, but that it needs to be done.
Here's the problem, and, once again, it's something that Surnow acknowledges. When Democrats in power, SNL takes them on. Witness how SNL has treated Presidents Carter and Clinton. Jon Lovitz played Mike Dukakis as a midget with no personality -- he was almost a robot. I still recall a mock debate that SNL did for the 1988 Democratic Primary. Al Franken's playing Senator Paul Simon of Illinois, and has him obessing over his bow tie. Nora Dunn's playing Congresswoman Pat Schroeder, and she cries throughout the debate.
And SNL, for the most part, has always been supportive of Republicans. Chevy Chase's portrait of Gerald Ford was as a kind-hearted klutz. John McCain and Robert Dole have hosted, as did Ford's press secretary. It's portrayal's of Democratic leaders have been brutal. Especially in the treatment of the Clintons. Surnow loses his argument over SNL when he states that it took it easy on Clinton and had it in for Newt Gingrich until the Monica thing happened. But, as anyone who watched SNL in the early and mid-90s knows, this was just not so. For one thing, this was in one of show's many down years, those years when it sticks to the easy targets. And the Clinton's were easy targets. Second, it needed talent to have someone play Gingrich, and folks, Phil Hartman and Darrell Hammond can only do so much.
As to The Daily Show, Surnow clearly shows that he doesn't understand his target. The Daily Show exists to skewer the media. It's not so much the President that's being attacked as it is the way that the media covers the President. Sure, Jon Stewart and company like to make jokes about Bush, but they have their most fun making fun at what the media actually reports about what Bush says. About how the media suck up and don't ask difficult questions.
But, you know what: if the 1/2 Hour News Hour is funny. It won't matter. So what if Dennis Miller failed. His show wasn't funny. This one will be. Won't it?
Well, from the clip that has come out, no, it won't. The humor is really childish -- think Colin Quinn "Weekend Update"-quality. It evens borders on racist. Rush Limbaugh's weighed in on the matter, urging his listeners to watch the show on Sunday night so that the Fox News Channel will pick it up for new episodes and give it a larger budget so that it will look more professional.
But a large budget and a professional look don't make a program a success. If it did, the biggest hit of the season would be Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. It's not the budget that matters, or the look, it's the talent. It's whether the cast can write and deliver jokes -- and it looks as if they can't. And, it's fancy set aside, The Daily Show revels in cheapness, having it's so-called correspondents stand in front of cheap green screens upon which are projected the images of the location from which they're supposedly reporting: Washington, D.C., London, a farm in Texas.
Maybe the 1/2 Hour Comedy Hour will be a success. But it needs to worry less about the political viewpoint, and it needs to worry more about the humor. Sure, the show's on the Fox News Channel, so maybe the politics will be key, but the show's supposed to be a comedy, and for a comedy show to succeed, it needs, first and foremost, to be funny. (Well, excepting something like According to Jim).
Surnow's the creator of 24. And, judging by his resume, Surnow's not done much with comedy. But that's okay, a comedy background isn't a prerequisite for making a funny program -- see, Miller, Dennis and his CNBC show.
Now let's look at the reasoning behind the show. Surnow states in interviews that it's a response to The Daily Show and Saturday Night Live, programs that poke fun at the president and conservative lawmakers. You know what, Surnow's right. Those programs do make fun of Bush and conservatives. But, from what little my studies of comedy have revealed, one of the goals of comedy is to poke fun at the big guy. To bring the people in power down to the level of the commoners. Surnow himself even acknowledges this, saying in one interview that Bush has brought many of his problems upon himself -- like he's just asking for that Will Ferrell impersonation. But, says Surnow, things need to be balanced out. When pressed, Surnow further acknowledges that it's kind of hard to poke fun at those who aren't in charge, but that it needs to be done.
Here's the problem, and, once again, it's something that Surnow acknowledges. When Democrats in power, SNL takes them on. Witness how SNL has treated Presidents Carter and Clinton. Jon Lovitz played Mike Dukakis as a midget with no personality -- he was almost a robot. I still recall a mock debate that SNL did for the 1988 Democratic Primary. Al Franken's playing Senator Paul Simon of Illinois, and has him obessing over his bow tie. Nora Dunn's playing Congresswoman Pat Schroeder, and she cries throughout the debate.
And SNL, for the most part, has always been supportive of Republicans. Chevy Chase's portrait of Gerald Ford was as a kind-hearted klutz. John McCain and Robert Dole have hosted, as did Ford's press secretary. It's portrayal's of Democratic leaders have been brutal. Especially in the treatment of the Clintons. Surnow loses his argument over SNL when he states that it took it easy on Clinton and had it in for Newt Gingrich until the Monica thing happened. But, as anyone who watched SNL in the early and mid-90s knows, this was just not so. For one thing, this was in one of show's many down years, those years when it sticks to the easy targets. And the Clinton's were easy targets. Second, it needed talent to have someone play Gingrich, and folks, Phil Hartman and Darrell Hammond can only do so much.
As to The Daily Show, Surnow clearly shows that he doesn't understand his target. The Daily Show exists to skewer the media. It's not so much the President that's being attacked as it is the way that the media covers the President. Sure, Jon Stewart and company like to make jokes about Bush, but they have their most fun making fun at what the media actually reports about what Bush says. About how the media suck up and don't ask difficult questions.
But, you know what: if the 1/2 Hour News Hour is funny. It won't matter. So what if Dennis Miller failed. His show wasn't funny. This one will be. Won't it?
Well, from the clip that has come out, no, it won't. The humor is really childish -- think Colin Quinn "Weekend Update"-quality. It evens borders on racist. Rush Limbaugh's weighed in on the matter, urging his listeners to watch the show on Sunday night so that the Fox News Channel will pick it up for new episodes and give it a larger budget so that it will look more professional.
But a large budget and a professional look don't make a program a success. If it did, the biggest hit of the season would be Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. It's not the budget that matters, or the look, it's the talent. It's whether the cast can write and deliver jokes -- and it looks as if they can't. And, it's fancy set aside, The Daily Show revels in cheapness, having it's so-called correspondents stand in front of cheap green screens upon which are projected the images of the location from which they're supposedly reporting: Washington, D.C., London, a farm in Texas.
Maybe the 1/2 Hour Comedy Hour will be a success. But it needs to worry less about the political viewpoint, and it needs to worry more about the humor. Sure, the show's on the Fox News Channel, so maybe the politics will be key, but the show's supposed to be a comedy, and for a comedy show to succeed, it needs, first and foremost, to be funny. (Well, excepting something like According to Jim).
Tim Hardaway Need Not Apply
Does anybody have any idea how I apply for this job? I'd do it for free. Hell, I'd pay money to do it. But, somehow I doubt that they're going to let me anywhere near this job. I just think that it's one of those heterosexual males need-not-apply jobs.
But I bet that I'd be very good at it. I know that I'd be extra careful to not color outside the lines.
And maybe I'd better stop while I still have some dignity.
But I bet that I'd be very good at it. I know that I'd be extra careful to not color outside the lines.
And maybe I'd better stop while I still have some dignity.
You Go the Hardaway, I'll Go the Right Way
I last read Robinson Crusoe in Spring, 1988. It was for one of the last classes that I needed for my English minor. It was one of those early English novel classes.
I’d read the book before, of course. Because it was the grand epic – the castaway amongst the savages. The ultimate adventure story. Only I’d found it kind of boring. Much as I’d found Frankenstein kind of boring on first read.
But I reread the book. Because I had to. It was part of the syllabus, and I’d have to write a paper on it. And being older now, more serious, I read the book as more than just an adventure story, I read it for the underlying meanings, for the message that its author, Daniel Defoe, was trying to get out to the masses.
It was a rather subversive message, as I remember. A message to question religion. To question one’s faith. Don’t just do what the masters say. Not that Defoe was anti-Religion. As I remember, he was a very religious man, but not much of a fan of the hierarchy and pageantry.
The main character, our hero, one Robinson Crusoe, is a man who has issues with religion, but a man, who upon being shipwrecked on an isolated island, believes that God has saved him. And Crusoe accepts God into his life, unquestioningly. There is to Crusoe, without a doubt, a God, and that God has saved his life.
Time passes and Crusoe acquires a servant. A “savage” that he has saved from a tribe of cannibals. The “savage” is named Friday, and Crusoe sets out to tame the savage. To turn Friday into a civilized human being. To make him a man of Christ. Of God. A good Christian. Just like Crusoe.
But as I remember it, Defoe plays tricks. He uses Friday to question Crusoe’s faith. To challenge Crusoe to actually asks questions. To actually learn what God is. What God is about. Friday makes Crusoe question faith, life, God. Makes Crusoe study the Bible. Crusoe learns that one just can’t take the existence of God on faith alone. That one has to question this faith, to question God. And, that only through this questioning, can one truly be Christian, because it’s only through this questioning that one does more than accept God, it’s through this questioning that one understands.
I’ve always remembered this because it’s always seemed to me that those who are loudest about their faith in God, those who are loudest about making others accept the existence of God, are those who most lack an actual faith in God. Those who, upon questioning, reveal an actual lack of faith, an actual understanding of God, and what God is about. These are the ones who, when pressed to the wall, recant. Are exposed as phonies.
This leads to Tim Hardaway, former basketball player. This leads to Tim Hardaway because yesterday, Tim Hardaway went on the radio and stated that he hated gay people. Who was proud in his bigotry. Who wanted nothing to do with homosexuals, and who wished that homosexuals did not exist.
Hardaway’s opinions on gays is, in many ways, like those of the KKK to the African-American. Pure abject hatred for no real reason. He can probably quote to a verse of scripture, but in the quoting, would fail to understand the true context of the message, of the teachings of Jesus.
And, the one thing that has most struck me about gay-bashers, about the loud ones who want to kill the gays, who announce their hatred, is that they’re probably so loud, so hateful, because they’re the ones who most fear gayness. Not because they hate gays, but because they fear that they’re gay. Who fear that they’re dirty rotten homosexuals. They don’t fear that a guy will look at them in the locker room; they fear that they will be the ones looking.
I’m sure there’s a psychologist out there who can probably provide a better opinion regarding this. But it’s just something that’s always struck me as being self-evident. That just as those who most loudly proclaim a faith in God while condemning anyone who questions the faith are probably those most lacking in the faith, those who most loudly condemn homosexuals are probably those who most fear that they are homosexual.
I’d read the book before, of course. Because it was the grand epic – the castaway amongst the savages. The ultimate adventure story. Only I’d found it kind of boring. Much as I’d found Frankenstein kind of boring on first read.
But I reread the book. Because I had to. It was part of the syllabus, and I’d have to write a paper on it. And being older now, more serious, I read the book as more than just an adventure story, I read it for the underlying meanings, for the message that its author, Daniel Defoe, was trying to get out to the masses.
It was a rather subversive message, as I remember. A message to question religion. To question one’s faith. Don’t just do what the masters say. Not that Defoe was anti-Religion. As I remember, he was a very religious man, but not much of a fan of the hierarchy and pageantry.
The main character, our hero, one Robinson Crusoe, is a man who has issues with religion, but a man, who upon being shipwrecked on an isolated island, believes that God has saved him. And Crusoe accepts God into his life, unquestioningly. There is to Crusoe, without a doubt, a God, and that God has saved his life.
Time passes and Crusoe acquires a servant. A “savage” that he has saved from a tribe of cannibals. The “savage” is named Friday, and Crusoe sets out to tame the savage. To turn Friday into a civilized human being. To make him a man of Christ. Of God. A good Christian. Just like Crusoe.
But as I remember it, Defoe plays tricks. He uses Friday to question Crusoe’s faith. To challenge Crusoe to actually asks questions. To actually learn what God is. What God is about. Friday makes Crusoe question faith, life, God. Makes Crusoe study the Bible. Crusoe learns that one just can’t take the existence of God on faith alone. That one has to question this faith, to question God. And, that only through this questioning, can one truly be Christian, because it’s only through this questioning that one does more than accept God, it’s through this questioning that one understands.
I’ve always remembered this because it’s always seemed to me that those who are loudest about their faith in God, those who are loudest about making others accept the existence of God, are those who most lack an actual faith in God. Those who, upon questioning, reveal an actual lack of faith, an actual understanding of God, and what God is about. These are the ones who, when pressed to the wall, recant. Are exposed as phonies.
This leads to Tim Hardaway, former basketball player. This leads to Tim Hardaway because yesterday, Tim Hardaway went on the radio and stated that he hated gay people. Who was proud in his bigotry. Who wanted nothing to do with homosexuals, and who wished that homosexuals did not exist.
Hardaway’s opinions on gays is, in many ways, like those of the KKK to the African-American. Pure abject hatred for no real reason. He can probably quote to a verse of scripture, but in the quoting, would fail to understand the true context of the message, of the teachings of Jesus.
And, the one thing that has most struck me about gay-bashers, about the loud ones who want to kill the gays, who announce their hatred, is that they’re probably so loud, so hateful, because they’re the ones who most fear gayness. Not because they hate gays, but because they fear that they’re gay. Who fear that they’re dirty rotten homosexuals. They don’t fear that a guy will look at them in the locker room; they fear that they will be the ones looking.
I’m sure there’s a psychologist out there who can probably provide a better opinion regarding this. But it’s just something that’s always struck me as being self-evident. That just as those who most loudly proclaim a faith in God while condemning anyone who questions the faith are probably those most lacking in the faith, those who most loudly condemn homosexuals are probably those who most fear that they are homosexual.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
And the Cover Goes To...
Well, it’s that day that every sports fan most early awaits, the naming of the covergirl for Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue.
And the 2007 cover goes to…
Beyonce.
Beyonce?
Okay, Beyonce’s an attractive woman. And she’s from Houston. But, Beyonce? Are they trying to help her push a new album? Are they trying to help her push a new movie? Has Jay-Z recently become SI’s editorial director? Did Prince make the announcement?
Look, I’ve nothing against Beyonce. But she’s never someone that I really cared about seeing in a bikini. Not when you compare her to the swimsuit cover models of my youth: Christie (really hot before she went nuts) Brinkley, Carol Alt, Elle Macpherson, and especially Kathy Ireland. Or when you compare her to some of the more recent cover girls: Rachel Hunter, Vendela, or Tyra Banks.
Oh well, why am I complaining, anyway? It’s hot women in bikinis in mid-February. And, in about two weeks, it’ll be time for the really fun part: the letters from the moms and librarians dealing with SI forcing porn on their young ones.
And the 2007 cover goes to…
Beyonce.
Beyonce?
Okay, Beyonce’s an attractive woman. And she’s from Houston. But, Beyonce? Are they trying to help her push a new album? Are they trying to help her push a new movie? Has Jay-Z recently become SI’s editorial director? Did Prince make the announcement?
Look, I’ve nothing against Beyonce. But she’s never someone that I really cared about seeing in a bikini. Not when you compare her to the swimsuit cover models of my youth: Christie (really hot before she went nuts) Brinkley, Carol Alt, Elle Macpherson, and especially Kathy Ireland. Or when you compare her to some of the more recent cover girls: Rachel Hunter, Vendela, or Tyra Banks.
Oh well, why am I complaining, anyway? It’s hot women in bikinis in mid-February. And, in about two weeks, it’ll be time for the really fun part: the letters from the moms and librarians dealing with SI forcing porn on their young ones.
Sunset 60 on the Studio Strip
I’ve got to confess. The one new television show of the fall season which I was most eagerly anticipating was Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. I’ve always been an Aaron Sorkin fan – I own the Sports Night DVD set. I abandoned The West Wing when he was forced out. I always thought that he wrote fantastic dialogue, and I after having seen what he did with a behind the scenes look of ESPN’s Sports Center, I was anxious to see what he was going to do with a behind the scenes look at NBC’s Saturday Night Live.
And then there was the cast. While never a fan of Friends, I was a fan of Matthew Perry’s. And he’d done some guest spots on The West Wing, and I knew he could handle the patented Sorkin walk-and-talk. And Bradley Whitford played one of my favorite characters on The West Wing.
So, needless to say, I was pumped for the premiere. Then I watched it. And I watched it again. And I kept watching even though I didn’t really like it that much. Perry and Whitford had great chemistry – with each other, which was good because they were best friends on the series. But they didn’t have great chemistry with the women they were courting. Hell, Sorkin even turned Whitford into a stalker. And how can you cast D.L. Hughley as a comic genius, then never do anything with him, especially when Sorkin keeps trying to show that Sarah Paulson’s a comic genius.
The show’s just never worked, though I’ve kept watching because of Perry and Whitford. The behind the scenes just never clicked, not like it did with Sports Night. The love stories never worked, though if Sorkin were to write a love story between Perry and Whitford it would work because these guys have great chemistry together. And even worse, for a show about Saturday Night Live, the comedy sketches were awful. The stuff that aired on the show-within-the-show wasn’t even good enough for the 11:55 central time slot on SNL – which is where Lorne Michaels sticks all of the crappy stuff – though SNL’s gotten so crappy the past several years that just about everything’s crappy.
So, it’s been announced that Studio 60’s going on hiatus, it’s last show to air to next week.
Will I miss it? No. And that’s why I’m disappointed. This show should’ve been the hit of the season. It had all of the credentials. The “genius” creator. The A-list cast. A promising premise. It had everything but one ingredient: it just wasn’t good.
So, here’s hoping that Whitford, and Perry, and Hughley, and Amanda Peet, etc, move on to really good programs. And here’s hoping that NBC finds something really good for Jack Rudolph, Action Executive.
And then there was the cast. While never a fan of Friends, I was a fan of Matthew Perry’s. And he’d done some guest spots on The West Wing, and I knew he could handle the patented Sorkin walk-and-talk. And Bradley Whitford played one of my favorite characters on The West Wing.
So, needless to say, I was pumped for the premiere. Then I watched it. And I watched it again. And I kept watching even though I didn’t really like it that much. Perry and Whitford had great chemistry – with each other, which was good because they were best friends on the series. But they didn’t have great chemistry with the women they were courting. Hell, Sorkin even turned Whitford into a stalker. And how can you cast D.L. Hughley as a comic genius, then never do anything with him, especially when Sorkin keeps trying to show that Sarah Paulson’s a comic genius.
The show’s just never worked, though I’ve kept watching because of Perry and Whitford. The behind the scenes just never clicked, not like it did with Sports Night. The love stories never worked, though if Sorkin were to write a love story between Perry and Whitford it would work because these guys have great chemistry together. And even worse, for a show about Saturday Night Live, the comedy sketches were awful. The stuff that aired on the show-within-the-show wasn’t even good enough for the 11:55 central time slot on SNL – which is where Lorne Michaels sticks all of the crappy stuff – though SNL’s gotten so crappy the past several years that just about everything’s crappy.
So, it’s been announced that Studio 60’s going on hiatus, it’s last show to air to next week.
Will I miss it? No. And that’s why I’m disappointed. This show should’ve been the hit of the season. It had all of the credentials. The “genius” creator. The A-list cast. A promising premise. It had everything but one ingredient: it just wasn’t good.
So, here’s hoping that Whitford, and Perry, and Hughley, and Amanda Peet, etc, move on to really good programs. And here’s hoping that NBC finds something really good for Jack Rudolph, Action Executive.
"Alone Again, Naturally"
So, it’s Valentine’s Day. And once again, The Clown’s alone. Thus, you shouldn’t be expecting any wisdom, from me, on the meaning of love, or about Valentine’s Day.
Instead, let’s turn to the wisdom of one Louie De Palma:
“Love is the end of happiness!
"The end. Because one day all a guy’s got to do to be happy is to watch the Mets. The next day you gotta have Zena in the room watching the Mets with you. You don’t know why. They’re the same Mets, it’s the same room…but you gotta have Zena there.”
(Courtesy of one of my favorite blogs, “By Ken Levine” who wrote for MASH, The Simpsons, Cheers, Frasier, and many other award-winning sitcoms.)
Instead, let’s turn to the wisdom of one Louie De Palma:
“Love is the end of happiness!
"The end. Because one day all a guy’s got to do to be happy is to watch the Mets. The next day you gotta have Zena in the room watching the Mets with you. You don’t know why. They’re the same Mets, it’s the same room…but you gotta have Zena there.”
(Courtesy of one of my favorite blogs, “By Ken Levine” who wrote for MASH, The Simpsons, Cheers, Frasier, and many other award-winning sitcoms.)
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Hyperbole Alert
This has to be the quote of the 2007 baseball season (note pitchers and catchers start reporting today): “and his statistical doppelganger entering last year was Sandy Koufax. Maybe a full spring tanning with Mets pitching coach Rick Peterson will unlock the inner Koufax….More likely, he'll continue to alternately inspire and frustrate his clubs.”
Of whom is the guy speaking: Oliver Perez, Mets’ journeyman. Sure, Tom Verducci tries to qualify the statement, but, still…
COME ON!!
This is Oliver Perez of which you speak. Until he’s actually accomplished something, let’s not go mentioning his name in the same sentence with Sandy Koufax.
Okay?
Of whom is the guy speaking: Oliver Perez, Mets’ journeyman. Sure, Tom Verducci tries to qualify the statement, but, still…
COME ON!!
This is Oliver Perez of which you speak. Until he’s actually accomplished something, let’s not go mentioning his name in the same sentence with Sandy Koufax.
Okay?
The Great Mascot Wars: or, Hey, Hey, We Don’t Need No Stinking Mascot
I discovered this little item on the internets today. The Washington Nationals are seeking people to put on huge costumes and race around RFK Stadium between innings – a kind of human mascot race (which the fine folks of Milwaukee have been doing for several years now).
But the Nationals, instead of using sausages, like Milwaukee, will be honoring our Nation’s past, as the costumed mascots will depict George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Teddy Roosevelt.
What I found most interesting is that if you want this job, you’re to contact the Mascot Coordinator.
Mascot Coordinator? Is that kind of like being the casting director responsible for Wilson? If so, find the Mascot Coordinator for the Texans, Astros, and Rockets, and put that person out of my misery.
But the Nationals, instead of using sausages, like Milwaukee, will be honoring our Nation’s past, as the costumed mascots will depict George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Teddy Roosevelt.
What I found most interesting is that if you want this job, you’re to contact the Mascot Coordinator.
Mascot Coordinator? Is that kind of like being the casting director responsible for Wilson? If so, find the Mascot Coordinator for the Texans, Astros, and Rockets, and put that person out of my misery.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
And Also Starring...Wilson
Okay, so I was watching The Surreal Life on VH-1 -- don't ask.
Anyway, there was an event going on with the "celebrities" involving a casting director. The casting director was Victoria Burrows. Some of her credits were displayed on the screen. One credit was for the film Cast Away.
I'm thinking that Tom Hanks probably came attached to the project. So, she wouldn't have been casting him. Does this mean that she was the one responsible for casting Wilson? And how many types of volleyballs did she look at? And did she try other types of balls? Did she look at the football and decide that she didn't like it's shape? Did she decide that the baseball was too small, and that the basketball was too big? Did she tell the soccer ball that he just had too many spots to work for the role?
Anyway, as one who thinks that Wilson was the best part of Cast Away, I just want to tell Ms. Burrows thanks.
Anyway, there was an event going on with the "celebrities" involving a casting director. The casting director was Victoria Burrows. Some of her credits were displayed on the screen. One credit was for the film Cast Away.
I'm thinking that Tom Hanks probably came attached to the project. So, she wouldn't have been casting him. Does this mean that she was the one responsible for casting Wilson? And how many types of volleyballs did she look at? And did she try other types of balls? Did she look at the football and decide that she didn't like it's shape? Did she decide that the baseball was too small, and that the basketball was too big? Did she tell the soccer ball that he just had too many spots to work for the role?
Anyway, as one who thinks that Wilson was the best part of Cast Away, I just want to tell Ms. Burrows thanks.
Ladies and Gentlemen: Your Las Vegas Craps
This is a kind of short story that I wrote several years ago. I haven't figured out what do with it. I thought that my CVC readers might enjoy it -- especially you baseball fans.
December, 2007:
Major League Baseball announced today that the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, a floundering franchise never able to find a fan base, will be relocating to Las Vegas following the 2009 season. The announcement came at the conclusion of this year’s Winter Meetings. Commissioner Allen H. "Bud" Selig told those assembled that the team was being sold to Las Vegas Sports and Entertainment LLC.
Though the Devil Rays will play the next several seasons in St. Petersburg’s Tropicana Field domed stadium, construction on a 40,000-seat retractable roof stadium will soon begin on land owned by Harrah’s Entertainment, Inc. The stadium will be located just off of the famed Las Vegas Strip, sitting behind the Bally’s and Paris-Las Vegas resorts and casinos.
"We’ve longed searched for an opportunity to bring the best professional baseball product to Las Vegas," Mr. Selig said. "And the Devil Rays are an up-and-coming franchise that will provide much excitement for the city."
***********************
The Harrah’s Entertainment, Inc. groups announced today that it is forming a new entity to run the retractable roof stadium that is currently under construction on their property, located just off of Las Vegas’ famed Strip. The entity is to be known as the National Entertainment Organization of Nevada (NEON).
NEON will serve as the stadium’s landlord, which, when completed, will become the home of the American League baseball franchise now known as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and owned by Las Vegas Sports and Entertainment, LLC.
****************************
March, 2008:
Though there are still two seasons left to play in Tampa Bay, Las Vegas Sports and Entertainment, LLC. today announced the new name of the team now known as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Team officials announced that as of November, 2009, the team will be known as the Las Vegas Craps.
"We believe that this name best represents the go-for-broke spirit of the city and people of Las Vegas and it’s the name that we want representing the go-for-the-gut spirit of our baseball team."
At this same press conference, NEON announced that the new stadium that will house the Craps will be known as the National Entertainment Organization of Nevada (NEON) Palace.
More details of the privately-financed stadium have also come to light. The facility, which is to seat 40,000 people and have a retractable roof, is modeled after fabled Ebbets Field, formerly of Brooklyn, New York and former home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. It has further come to light that, when the roof is closed, neon lights covering the roof will flash to life, revealing to airplanes and those in the hotels overlooking the facility, a huge white baseball with red seams.
**************************
December 2009:
Today, Las Vegas Craps officials unveiled the team’s colors and logos. The logo will consist of a pair of dice, each highlighting the "one" dot and indicating snake eyes. To further go along with the Las Vegas theme, the team’s colors will be a dice white with flamingo pink lettering outlined in neon yellow and black. The hat will be the flamingo pink color with white dice lying across an interlocking "LV." The jerseys will be a white vest with flamingo pink sleeves. The team name "Craps" will appear across the front of the jersey in cursive lettering.
On Sundays and holidays, the white vest and pink sleeves will be replaced by a neon yellow jersey with black lettering for "Craps" and flamingo pink outlining. The hat will also be of neon yellow coloring but will retain the two dice and interlocking "LV."
The road uniforms will be a light gray pant and jersey, flamingo pink piping down the leg, and "Las Vegas" printed in block letters across the front with flamingo pink lettering and yellow outlining. The hat will be the same flamingo pink hat worn by the team for home games.
**********************
With the 2009 season ended and the Craps official relocation only days away, the ownership group announced some changes in the baseball organization. Steve Wynn has been named as president of the Operating Group, responsible for team payroll, team marketing, and all major and minor league operations. Gerry Hunsicker, who has been serving as the Devil Rays general manager, was officially removed from that position today. Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland Athletics and the star of the book Moneyball was named by Mr. Wynn as the new general manager of the Craps.
"I believe in the numbers," Mr. Beane was quoted as saying at his introductory press conference. "And what better place for a belief in the numbers can there be than Las Vegas."
Mr. Wynn and Mr. Beane were quiet on the subject of manager Joe Madden. It is rumored that the team will be moving toward a high profile name to take over the field generalship of the Craps.
In more baseball related news, Major League Baseball announced today that the ban keeping Pete Rose from participating in Major League baseball functions, including the enshrinement in the Baseball Hall of Fame, has been lifted.
**********************
JANUARY 2010:
The Las Vegas Craps announced today that new General Manager Billy Beane, less than a month after accepting the job, has tendered his resignation. Beane stated that he didn’t want to uproot his daughters. When further questioned upon this, Mr. Beane responded that if the answer was good enough for the Boston media back when he turned down the Boston Red Sox job, it would should be good enough for the Las Vegas media.
Steve Wynn took the moment of Beane’s resignation to announce that the Craps were ready to name a manager, and that the manager would also take over the general manager duties. At that point, Pete Rose emerged from off-stage to the pop of fireworks, the flashing of strobes, and the unleashing of smoke and dry ice effects.
"Look," Mr. Rose told the assembled media, "I’ll put ten grand on the line right now that the Craps will win the pennant."
"Further," Mr. Wynn told those assembled, "I’ve spoken to Major League Baseball and instead of opening games with the National Anthem, all games will begin with the signing of ‘Luck Be A Lady.’" It was also announced that the seventh inning stretch will be Elvis Presley’s "A Little Less Conversation."
************************
The interior of the NEON Palace was revealed for the first time today to Nevada and Las Vegas luminaries, including Wayne Newton, Sigfried and Roy, Penn & Teller, the mayor, and various others of lesser import.
The layout of the stadium is impressive. The actual field is grass and it will be provided and cared for by the group responsible for upkeep at Chase Field in Phoenix which operates under similar weather conditions.
The right field line goes back for 310 feet. At the point, there is an eight foot high wall, designed, the experts say, to allow for spectacular fence jumping catches such as those made by the popular Torii Hunter. The right field power alley is only some 375 feet, and straight-away centerfield is 405 feet away from the plate. However, Las Vegas Craps officials have requested a field suited for playing baseball, so against the wishes of The NEON Palace officials, there are no hills, no flag poles that are in play, or any other in-the-field of play obstacles.
The left field line stretches back 325 feet from the plate. The wall at this point is ten feet high and will be used as an out-of-town scoreboard. With a twist. Along with displaying the scores, inning, pitcher, etc., the board will also supply the odds for that game as calculated by the Bally’s Sports Book operation. Both bullpens will be located in the left field power alley which is at 380 feet.
The NEON Palace will be different from other ballparks when it comes to the fan seating arrangements. Instead of wireless Internet, television screens, and other items which are accessible to fans in other high-priced field box sections, there will be video poker and dollar slots built into the seat backs for the fans to enjoy between innings. Video poker, five dollar slots, craps, roulette and blackjack will be available to those seated in the suites, of which there will eighty, ringing the stadium on the second and third levels.
There will be a huge, high definition video screen in centerfield. Half of the screen will be for replays and the occasional lottery game. Balls, strikes, and all other statistical information, including odds, will be found on the other half of the board.
***************************
With the first Las Vegas Craps game only days away, The NEON Palace officials today announced that the best way to the game will be by the monorail which stops at the stadium. Officials did say that special limousine and helicopter service will be available for various dignitaries.
That said, if the monorail is out of service, the best method is to park at the New York-New York, Monte Carlo, Bellagio and Mirage parking garages.
Stadium official also announced that the installation of nickel and quarter slots and video poker machines has been completed on all stadium concourses. Fourth level and outfield section slot installment is complete except for selected penny machines. All installation should be complete by Friday’s scheduled exhibition with the New York Yankees.
In other stadium news, all of the first level High Roller flamingo pink seats have been installed as have all amenities required for the Whales suites. The neon yellow fourth level outfield seats are nearly installed, but are a secondary concern.
***************************
The Pete Rose led Las Vegas Craps took the field last night for their first game, an exhibition contest against the New York Yankees. Players were pleased to discover that the ball boys down each foul line had been replaced by showgirls. Though not wearing the high heels and headgear, the showgirls wore lace stockings and high-cut leotards. After the seventh-inning stretch, which is approximately the time the late show starts, the showgirls went topless. They did not make any plays, but several fans were ejected from the stadium for falling on the field while trying to make a play.
The final stadium signage was revealed right before both teams took to the field for batting practice. The primary right field board is for the Pepper Escort Agency. Next to this sign, only slightly smaller, is one for Jerome Adfeld, Attorney-At-Law.
Word also reached the press box that the escorts working as ushers in the Whales Suites were well received.
The first home run, hit by the Craps’ Carl Crawford, was accompanied by fireworks, a Bellagio-type water show behind the centerfield wall and lasers which appeared to be attacking the roof, which was closed for the evening.
Manager Pete Rose was also observed several times on a dugout phone. However, though it was determined that the phone did not connect to the bullpen or to the owner’s box or general manager’s box, no Craps' official was willing to explain where the phone line did go.
*******************************
October 2010:
The Las Vegas Craps season ended today with the team in last place. Manager Pete Rose, discussing debts which he owed, stated immediately after the game that he was resigning his position as both manager and general manager. Operating Group President Steve Wynn said that Pete Rose was valued by the organization and that another position would be made available.
*************************
And so went the first season of the Las Vegas Craps.
December, 2007:
Major League Baseball announced today that the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, a floundering franchise never able to find a fan base, will be relocating to Las Vegas following the 2009 season. The announcement came at the conclusion of this year’s Winter Meetings. Commissioner Allen H. "Bud" Selig told those assembled that the team was being sold to Las Vegas Sports and Entertainment LLC.
Though the Devil Rays will play the next several seasons in St. Petersburg’s Tropicana Field domed stadium, construction on a 40,000-seat retractable roof stadium will soon begin on land owned by Harrah’s Entertainment, Inc. The stadium will be located just off of the famed Las Vegas Strip, sitting behind the Bally’s and Paris-Las Vegas resorts and casinos.
"We’ve longed searched for an opportunity to bring the best professional baseball product to Las Vegas," Mr. Selig said. "And the Devil Rays are an up-and-coming franchise that will provide much excitement for the city."
***********************
The Harrah’s Entertainment, Inc. groups announced today that it is forming a new entity to run the retractable roof stadium that is currently under construction on their property, located just off of Las Vegas’ famed Strip. The entity is to be known as the National Entertainment Organization of Nevada (NEON).
NEON will serve as the stadium’s landlord, which, when completed, will become the home of the American League baseball franchise now known as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and owned by Las Vegas Sports and Entertainment, LLC.
****************************
March, 2008:
Though there are still two seasons left to play in Tampa Bay, Las Vegas Sports and Entertainment, LLC. today announced the new name of the team now known as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Team officials announced that as of November, 2009, the team will be known as the Las Vegas Craps.
"We believe that this name best represents the go-for-broke spirit of the city and people of Las Vegas and it’s the name that we want representing the go-for-the-gut spirit of our baseball team."
At this same press conference, NEON announced that the new stadium that will house the Craps will be known as the National Entertainment Organization of Nevada (NEON) Palace.
More details of the privately-financed stadium have also come to light. The facility, which is to seat 40,000 people and have a retractable roof, is modeled after fabled Ebbets Field, formerly of Brooklyn, New York and former home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. It has further come to light that, when the roof is closed, neon lights covering the roof will flash to life, revealing to airplanes and those in the hotels overlooking the facility, a huge white baseball with red seams.
**************************
December 2009:
Today, Las Vegas Craps officials unveiled the team’s colors and logos. The logo will consist of a pair of dice, each highlighting the "one" dot and indicating snake eyes. To further go along with the Las Vegas theme, the team’s colors will be a dice white with flamingo pink lettering outlined in neon yellow and black. The hat will be the flamingo pink color with white dice lying across an interlocking "LV." The jerseys will be a white vest with flamingo pink sleeves. The team name "Craps" will appear across the front of the jersey in cursive lettering.
On Sundays and holidays, the white vest and pink sleeves will be replaced by a neon yellow jersey with black lettering for "Craps" and flamingo pink outlining. The hat will also be of neon yellow coloring but will retain the two dice and interlocking "LV."
The road uniforms will be a light gray pant and jersey, flamingo pink piping down the leg, and "Las Vegas" printed in block letters across the front with flamingo pink lettering and yellow outlining. The hat will be the same flamingo pink hat worn by the team for home games.
**********************
With the 2009 season ended and the Craps official relocation only days away, the ownership group announced some changes in the baseball organization. Steve Wynn has been named as president of the Operating Group, responsible for team payroll, team marketing, and all major and minor league operations. Gerry Hunsicker, who has been serving as the Devil Rays general manager, was officially removed from that position today. Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland Athletics and the star of the book Moneyball was named by Mr. Wynn as the new general manager of the Craps.
"I believe in the numbers," Mr. Beane was quoted as saying at his introductory press conference. "And what better place for a belief in the numbers can there be than Las Vegas."
Mr. Wynn and Mr. Beane were quiet on the subject of manager Joe Madden. It is rumored that the team will be moving toward a high profile name to take over the field generalship of the Craps.
In more baseball related news, Major League Baseball announced today that the ban keeping Pete Rose from participating in Major League baseball functions, including the enshrinement in the Baseball Hall of Fame, has been lifted.
**********************
JANUARY 2010:
The Las Vegas Craps announced today that new General Manager Billy Beane, less than a month after accepting the job, has tendered his resignation. Beane stated that he didn’t want to uproot his daughters. When further questioned upon this, Mr. Beane responded that if the answer was good enough for the Boston media back when he turned down the Boston Red Sox job, it would should be good enough for the Las Vegas media.
Steve Wynn took the moment of Beane’s resignation to announce that the Craps were ready to name a manager, and that the manager would also take over the general manager duties. At that point, Pete Rose emerged from off-stage to the pop of fireworks, the flashing of strobes, and the unleashing of smoke and dry ice effects.
"Look," Mr. Rose told the assembled media, "I’ll put ten grand on the line right now that the Craps will win the pennant."
"Further," Mr. Wynn told those assembled, "I’ve spoken to Major League Baseball and instead of opening games with the National Anthem, all games will begin with the signing of ‘Luck Be A Lady.’" It was also announced that the seventh inning stretch will be Elvis Presley’s "A Little Less Conversation."
************************
The interior of the NEON Palace was revealed for the first time today to Nevada and Las Vegas luminaries, including Wayne Newton, Sigfried and Roy, Penn & Teller, the mayor, and various others of lesser import.
The layout of the stadium is impressive. The actual field is grass and it will be provided and cared for by the group responsible for upkeep at Chase Field in Phoenix which operates under similar weather conditions.
The right field line goes back for 310 feet. At the point, there is an eight foot high wall, designed, the experts say, to allow for spectacular fence jumping catches such as those made by the popular Torii Hunter. The right field power alley is only some 375 feet, and straight-away centerfield is 405 feet away from the plate. However, Las Vegas Craps officials have requested a field suited for playing baseball, so against the wishes of The NEON Palace officials, there are no hills, no flag poles that are in play, or any other in-the-field of play obstacles.
The left field line stretches back 325 feet from the plate. The wall at this point is ten feet high and will be used as an out-of-town scoreboard. With a twist. Along with displaying the scores, inning, pitcher, etc., the board will also supply the odds for that game as calculated by the Bally’s Sports Book operation. Both bullpens will be located in the left field power alley which is at 380 feet.
The NEON Palace will be different from other ballparks when it comes to the fan seating arrangements. Instead of wireless Internet, television screens, and other items which are accessible to fans in other high-priced field box sections, there will be video poker and dollar slots built into the seat backs for the fans to enjoy between innings. Video poker, five dollar slots, craps, roulette and blackjack will be available to those seated in the suites, of which there will eighty, ringing the stadium on the second and third levels.
There will be a huge, high definition video screen in centerfield. Half of the screen will be for replays and the occasional lottery game. Balls, strikes, and all other statistical information, including odds, will be found on the other half of the board.
***************************
With the first Las Vegas Craps game only days away, The NEON Palace officials today announced that the best way to the game will be by the monorail which stops at the stadium. Officials did say that special limousine and helicopter service will be available for various dignitaries.
That said, if the monorail is out of service, the best method is to park at the New York-New York, Monte Carlo, Bellagio and Mirage parking garages.
Stadium official also announced that the installation of nickel and quarter slots and video poker machines has been completed on all stadium concourses. Fourth level and outfield section slot installment is complete except for selected penny machines. All installation should be complete by Friday’s scheduled exhibition with the New York Yankees.
In other stadium news, all of the first level High Roller flamingo pink seats have been installed as have all amenities required for the Whales suites. The neon yellow fourth level outfield seats are nearly installed, but are a secondary concern.
***************************
The Pete Rose led Las Vegas Craps took the field last night for their first game, an exhibition contest against the New York Yankees. Players were pleased to discover that the ball boys down each foul line had been replaced by showgirls. Though not wearing the high heels and headgear, the showgirls wore lace stockings and high-cut leotards. After the seventh-inning stretch, which is approximately the time the late show starts, the showgirls went topless. They did not make any plays, but several fans were ejected from the stadium for falling on the field while trying to make a play.
The final stadium signage was revealed right before both teams took to the field for batting practice. The primary right field board is for the Pepper Escort Agency. Next to this sign, only slightly smaller, is one for Jerome Adfeld, Attorney-At-Law.
Word also reached the press box that the escorts working as ushers in the Whales Suites were well received.
The first home run, hit by the Craps’ Carl Crawford, was accompanied by fireworks, a Bellagio-type water show behind the centerfield wall and lasers which appeared to be attacking the roof, which was closed for the evening.
Manager Pete Rose was also observed several times on a dugout phone. However, though it was determined that the phone did not connect to the bullpen or to the owner’s box or general manager’s box, no Craps' official was willing to explain where the phone line did go.
*******************************
October 2010:
The Las Vegas Craps season ended today with the team in last place. Manager Pete Rose, discussing debts which he owed, stated immediately after the game that he was resigning his position as both manager and general manager. Operating Group President Steve Wynn said that Pete Rose was valued by the organization and that another position would be made available.
*************************
And so went the first season of the Las Vegas Craps.
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