As I’ve said before, I often feel like a moderate in a land of extremists. I know that’s not actually true – there are many more moderates than extremists, but moderates don’t shout quite as loudly or get quite as passionate about things as extremists, so we tend to leave the stage to them.
My moderation extends towards many things. To politics, where the discussion is dominated by partisans and the rest of us are collateral damage. To religion, where worshipers of all faiths, including atheists*, have a certitude I lack. Even to culture – where I am decidedly middle brow in my music and literary tastes.
* Does it ever occur to Angry Atheists that they have a lot in common with the religious folks they attack? They too are absolutely 100% certain about something they cannot prove
One area my moderation extends is health. No, I’m not talking about national healthcare– I avoided that debate here at FreeTime. I’m talking about my health. You know, exercise and nutrition and vices like drinking and smoking, and all of those things that add up (hopefully) to good health. In that area I have a very simple two-word philosophy: Healthy Enough.
The Extremists
We are, of course surrounded by health nuts. Several women in my town, most on the far side of 40, are so committed to their intense gym regimens that they could show up at Marine boot camp tomorrow and impress the hell out of the drill sergeants. We also all know people whose diets wouldn’t satisfy the hunger of small woodlands creatures. And of course the crime of smoking is deemed by society to be on a par with beating up elderly nuns.
(Thankfully, nearly everyone drinks. The Health Police took away our cigarettes and are now trying to legislate our eating habits; but when they come for our beer and booze we’ll drown them in Tofu.)
We are also, of course, surrounded by people whose personal health – how do I put this - does not seem their primary concern. Now I am a firm believer that obesity charts are ridiculous – if 221 pounds for a 6’0” man is obese, then I’m only a few KFC Double Downs away from Fatsoville. But it’s clear there are far too many Americans that should work the occasional salad into their diet.
But my philosophy, as stated, is Healthy Enough. I am not trying out for the Olympic swim team, have little cause to ever run 26 miles, and was in my last fist fight in 1986 (that's a good story for another day).
So why beat myself up in the gym 4 days a week? More importantly, why deny myself the special pleasure of what my friend Gombo calls the occasional cone.* Or the occasional cigar with an Irish whiskey? Or the occasional entire bag of Cheez Doodles while watching Seinfeld reruns.
* Gombo is an ascetic fellow, not out of some ridiculous desire to be super healthy, but just because he has plain tastes. He doesn’t want dressing on his salad, toppings on his ice cream, or fashionably placed rips in his jeans. I asked him once if he ever has dessert and he answered, “Oh, I have the occasional cone.” A couple years ago he had a potentially life-threatening health scare and I wrote a eulogy for him entitled “The Occasional Cone”. It was a damned good eulogy. Too bad he survived.
But while I don’t treat my body as a temple, I try not to treat it like a baby treats a diaper, either. I play a little Sunday hoops, keep my tobacco intake limited to the occasional cigar, and seriously, I only did that Cheez Doodles thing the one time.
By pursuing my Healthy Enough philosophy, I hope to live a reasonably long life while enjoying all the pleasures that vices offer. Of course, my health will be seriously threatened if those women in my town read this and take offense. Because seriously – they can beat the crap out of me.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Opening Eve
The United States government is going bankrupt, unemployment remains at 10%, and the NBC series Chuck* is at risk of being cancelled. But as far as I’m concerned, all is right with the world because, ladies and gentlemen, baseball is back!
* Seriously, I have completely fallen for Chuck. I’m mildly embarrassed by this; should I be?
So as I bask in the glow of the Mets' ritual Opening Day victory (32-9 on ODs since the 69 Miracle Mets), I thought I’d share a few thoughts with you.
Naming the Day
These days its unclear which day actually is Opening Day. Was it Sunday night when the New York Billionaires lost to the Boston Multi-Millionaires? Or Monday, when the other 30 teams get their mojo on? Well, here at FreeTime, we don’t complain, we propose solutions.
Let me start by saying I have no problem with change and innovation. Folks who sit around growling that the Cincinnati Reds should kick off every season at Noon on Monday because “Dadgum it, that’s how we did it when I was a boy” are trapped in a time warp. They should stick to the New York Times sports section and their lineup of octogenarian columnists who think 1950’s New York baseball should be frozen in amber and replayed over and over and leave modern baseball to the rest of us.
That said the Sunday night game has caused a bit of a linguistic problem. Monday is the true Opening Day, with 15 games played across the continent, grown men scheming to leave work early, with sunshine and American flags and hot dogs and rookie debuts and “recording artists”* you’ve never heard of singing the National Anthem.
* That would be a good name for a band, The Recording Artists. “And now, to sing the National Anthem, Columbia recording artists, The Recording Artists!”
Where was I? Right, our linguistic problem. Some have proposed we call Sunday night Opening Night, but c’mon, this isn’t theater. This is Baseball with a Capital B. Opening Day is a holiday, not a show making its debut and hoping not to be cancelled. (Okay, it was cancelled in 1994. But that was different).
We are all very comfortable with the concept of Eves. December 24 is Christmas Eve, December 25 is Christmas Day. December 31 is New Year’s Eve; January 1 we nurse our hangover and watch East Illinois State play Acorn University in the Fremulon Insurance Who Gives a Crap Bowl. Why not do the same thing for Opening Day?
From here on, Sunday Night is Opening Eve and Monday is Opening Day. My will be done. Now let’s move on to other, more pressing issues.
Sympathy for the Devil
And what a wonderful Opening Eve! The New York Stormtroopers blew a 4-run lead with their best pitcher on the mound. The Yankees are in last place!
But of course they won’t stay there. How glorious it must be to be a Yankee fan. To root for a team that finishes in 1st place nearly ever season, a team that plays in October nearly every season. A team for whom Opening Eve really is like Christmas Eve, because Daddy George has bought us the most expensive toys in the off-season.
To root for a team that has won 1/3 of all the Championships since the Hoover Administration. Think about that.
There are some 120 teams in the 4 major sports in North America. Throw in the major college football and basketball teams and we’re talking almost 200 teams with serious rooting interests.
But none of them has a sustained record of winning like the New York Yankees, not even close. The Lakers you say? Please. Ruth, Mantle and Company had 20 rings before the Lakers even moved to California. North Carolina basketball? Yanks had more titles during Clinton’s second term than the Tar Heels have racked up since Dean Smith’s first season.
But there is a dark side to all this winning. A basic human truth is that when something is hard it is more rewarding. Reading Shakespeare, drinking single-malt scotch and running a marathon are significantly harder than reading James Patterson, drinking Coors Light and watching a sitcom while eating an entire bag of Cheetos. But the rewards are far greater.
Being a sports fan offers the same rewards. Sports teams are supposed to follow some natural arc – promise, disappointment, dejection, promise again, heartbreaking loss – and then, occasionally, a championship! The sweetness of that title is accentuated by the depth of the despair.
Ask a New York Rangers fan about the 1994 Stanley Cup and you’ll hear a game-by-game breakdown of the entire playoff run. Ask a Yankee fan who they beat in the 1999 World Series and you’ll get, quite often, a thoughtful frown followed by an answer with a question mark. “The Braves? No, that was ninety, um, six. Wait, okay, Braves were 96, then 98 was the 114 wins and they beat the Pa-a-a-a-dres…and of course 2000 was the Mets! Maybe it was the Braves again. I dunno. Doesn’t matter.”
It’s like being a drug addict. The high is awesome at first, but eventually it loses its power to excite. In fact, for some portion of Yankee Nation last year’s title was like a junkie’s relief at the moment the needle goes in.
So today, my friends, as the Yankees defend yet another title, I ask for just a little sympathy.
Hope Springs Eternal
Oh, who am I kidding? It must be awesome to be a Yankee fan.
My team, the New York Metropolitans, is in one of those deep, jagged valleys that teams not named the Yankees occasionally find themselves. In 2006 they ran away with the NL East and had a lead late in Game 7 of the National League Championship Series. But then, well, if you’re still reading this you know what happened next. Stunning collapses in 07 and 08, and an avalanche of injuries in 2009.
But it’s April and every fan from Kansas City to Seattle and everywhere in between should be filled with hope. Here’s my quickie case for Mets hope: And yes, I know that if ifs and buts were candy and nuts every day would be Christmas. And my case for Metsie Hope is drowning in ifs and buts. But dadgum it, it’s Opening Day!
- If Jose Reyes comes back (as expected) and Carlos Beltran comes back (who knows?), the foursome of Reyes/Wright/Beltran/Bay is pretty fearsome. Throw in a bit of Francouer power, Castillo’s .390 OBP and 20 steals, and you’re gonna score some runs.
- Only five closers have strung together 5 consecutive 35-save seasons. Two of them are over 40. K-Rod is one of the other three. He’s as close to a sure thing you get this side of the Bronx.
- Yes, the starting rotation is filled with question marks, but question marks are better than negative answers, no? John Maine, Oliver Perez and Mike Pelfrey have all proved they can pitch on the major league level, and all are young enough to have strong seasons in them. Last year was rough and spring training worse, but I wouldn’t be surprised if any of these guys won 15 games with a low 4 ERA.
And if not, it'll be easier to get good seats at CitiField this year!
Carthago delendo est
Allow me to repeat a rant from last year, a point I plan on remaking in all future baseball pieces moving forward.
"Maybe I'm a little OCD, but it drives me crazy that the AL West has 4 teams, the NL Central has 6, and the other four divisions have 5 teams. Isn't that unfair? Everything else being equal, an AL West team has a 25% chance of winning the division, whereas an NL Central team has a - um, hold on, let me get my calculator - shoot, I dunno, a 17% chance. Something like that. And it's not like this is a hard problem to fix. You simply take the Brewers, who used to be in the AL anyway, and move 'em to the AL West. Voila! Six teams with 5 divisions each! Why don't they do that? Oh wait, I remember..."
* Seriously, I have completely fallen for Chuck. I’m mildly embarrassed by this; should I be?
So as I bask in the glow of the Mets' ritual Opening Day victory (32-9 on ODs since the 69 Miracle Mets), I thought I’d share a few thoughts with you.
Naming the Day
These days its unclear which day actually is Opening Day. Was it Sunday night when the New York Billionaires lost to the Boston Multi-Millionaires? Or Monday, when the other 30 teams get their mojo on? Well, here at FreeTime, we don’t complain, we propose solutions.
Let me start by saying I have no problem with change and innovation. Folks who sit around growling that the Cincinnati Reds should kick off every season at Noon on Monday because “Dadgum it, that’s how we did it when I was a boy” are trapped in a time warp. They should stick to the New York Times sports section and their lineup of octogenarian columnists who think 1950’s New York baseball should be frozen in amber and replayed over and over and leave modern baseball to the rest of us.
That said the Sunday night game has caused a bit of a linguistic problem. Monday is the true Opening Day, with 15 games played across the continent, grown men scheming to leave work early, with sunshine and American flags and hot dogs and rookie debuts and “recording artists”* you’ve never heard of singing the National Anthem.
* That would be a good name for a band, The Recording Artists. “And now, to sing the National Anthem, Columbia recording artists, The Recording Artists!”
Where was I? Right, our linguistic problem. Some have proposed we call Sunday night Opening Night, but c’mon, this isn’t theater. This is Baseball with a Capital B. Opening Day is a holiday, not a show making its debut and hoping not to be cancelled. (Okay, it was cancelled in 1994. But that was different).
We are all very comfortable with the concept of Eves. December 24 is Christmas Eve, December 25 is Christmas Day. December 31 is New Year’s Eve; January 1 we nurse our hangover and watch East Illinois State play Acorn University in the Fremulon Insurance Who Gives a Crap Bowl. Why not do the same thing for Opening Day?
From here on, Sunday Night is Opening Eve and Monday is Opening Day. My will be done. Now let’s move on to other, more pressing issues.
Sympathy for the Devil
And what a wonderful Opening Eve! The New York Stormtroopers blew a 4-run lead with their best pitcher on the mound. The Yankees are in last place!
But of course they won’t stay there. How glorious it must be to be a Yankee fan. To root for a team that finishes in 1st place nearly ever season, a team that plays in October nearly every season. A team for whom Opening Eve really is like Christmas Eve, because Daddy George has bought us the most expensive toys in the off-season.
To root for a team that has won 1/3 of all the Championships since the Hoover Administration. Think about that.
There are some 120 teams in the 4 major sports in North America. Throw in the major college football and basketball teams and we’re talking almost 200 teams with serious rooting interests.
But none of them has a sustained record of winning like the New York Yankees, not even close. The Lakers you say? Please. Ruth, Mantle and Company had 20 rings before the Lakers even moved to California. North Carolina basketball? Yanks had more titles during Clinton’s second term than the Tar Heels have racked up since Dean Smith’s first season.
But there is a dark side to all this winning. A basic human truth is that when something is hard it is more rewarding. Reading Shakespeare, drinking single-malt scotch and running a marathon are significantly harder than reading James Patterson, drinking Coors Light and watching a sitcom while eating an entire bag of Cheetos. But the rewards are far greater.
Being a sports fan offers the same rewards. Sports teams are supposed to follow some natural arc – promise, disappointment, dejection, promise again, heartbreaking loss – and then, occasionally, a championship! The sweetness of that title is accentuated by the depth of the despair.
Ask a New York Rangers fan about the 1994 Stanley Cup and you’ll hear a game-by-game breakdown of the entire playoff run. Ask a Yankee fan who they beat in the 1999 World Series and you’ll get, quite often, a thoughtful frown followed by an answer with a question mark. “The Braves? No, that was ninety, um, six. Wait, okay, Braves were 96, then 98 was the 114 wins and they beat the Pa-a-a-a-dres…and of course 2000 was the Mets! Maybe it was the Braves again. I dunno. Doesn’t matter.”
It’s like being a drug addict. The high is awesome at first, but eventually it loses its power to excite. In fact, for some portion of Yankee Nation last year’s title was like a junkie’s relief at the moment the needle goes in.
So today, my friends, as the Yankees defend yet another title, I ask for just a little sympathy.
Hope Springs Eternal
Oh, who am I kidding? It must be awesome to be a Yankee fan.
My team, the New York Metropolitans, is in one of those deep, jagged valleys that teams not named the Yankees occasionally find themselves. In 2006 they ran away with the NL East and had a lead late in Game 7 of the National League Championship Series. But then, well, if you’re still reading this you know what happened next. Stunning collapses in 07 and 08, and an avalanche of injuries in 2009.
But it’s April and every fan from Kansas City to Seattle and everywhere in between should be filled with hope. Here’s my quickie case for Mets hope: And yes, I know that if ifs and buts were candy and nuts every day would be Christmas. And my case for Metsie Hope is drowning in ifs and buts. But dadgum it, it’s Opening Day!
- If Jose Reyes comes back (as expected) and Carlos Beltran comes back (who knows?), the foursome of Reyes/Wright/Beltran/Bay is pretty fearsome. Throw in a bit of Francouer power, Castillo’s .390 OBP and 20 steals, and you’re gonna score some runs.
- Only five closers have strung together 5 consecutive 35-save seasons. Two of them are over 40. K-Rod is one of the other three. He’s as close to a sure thing you get this side of the Bronx.
- Yes, the starting rotation is filled with question marks, but question marks are better than negative answers, no? John Maine, Oliver Perez and Mike Pelfrey have all proved they can pitch on the major league level, and all are young enough to have strong seasons in them. Last year was rough and spring training worse, but I wouldn’t be surprised if any of these guys won 15 games with a low 4 ERA.
And if not, it'll be easier to get good seats at CitiField this year!
Carthago delendo est
Allow me to repeat a rant from last year, a point I plan on remaking in all future baseball pieces moving forward.
"Maybe I'm a little OCD, but it drives me crazy that the AL West has 4 teams, the NL Central has 6, and the other four divisions have 5 teams. Isn't that unfair? Everything else being equal, an AL West team has a 25% chance of winning the division, whereas an NL Central team has a - um, hold on, let me get my calculator - shoot, I dunno, a 17% chance. Something like that. And it's not like this is a hard problem to fix. You simply take the Brewers, who used to be in the AL anyway, and move 'em to the AL West. Voila! Six teams with 5 divisions each! Why don't they do that? Oh wait, I remember..."
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Duper Level
I suggested that Lebron James will be tempted by the Big Apple and make his way to the New York Knicks. They dismissed this as typical New York arrogance, and clearly believed that Madison Square Garden harbored snakes as evil as any in the Garden of Eden.
Like all good sports arguments this one got me thinking, and I thought I would helpfully share my thinking with Knicks management as they prepare to make their case to Lebron. They all fall under the broad argument of achieving what we'll call the Duper Level. In other words, there is no doubt Lebron is already a superstar, but if he wants to be a Super Duper Star, he's got to come to New York. Here are a few ways of thinking about The Duper Level.
The Lucille Test
One way to look at whether or not an athlete has achieved the Duper Level is the Lucille Test. Lucille is my Mom, and she is aware of sports but not what you'd call a passionate fan. And I just had the following conversation with her:
Me: Do you know who Lebron James is?
Mom: Who?
Me: Lebron James.
Mom: Legron?
Me: Lebron. With a B.
Mom: Lebon James...wait, I know that name. He's some kind of sports player. I know this because I just read it somewhere. He plays sports.
Me: Do you know what sport?
Mom: (pause). Football?
Now, my Mom knows Tiger Woods (and not because of recent scandals). She knows Derek Jeter and Peyton Manning and Kobe Bryant and Brett Favre, and back in the 90's she knew Michael Jordan and Larry Bird. But if Lebron James walked into her kitchen right now and said "Hi, I'm Lebron James and I play for the Cleveland Cavaliers", she'd have no idea what the hell he was talking about.
There are Lucilles all over this great land of ours and across the globe and part of achieving the Duper Level means having the Lucilles know who you are. Play in New York, and I assure you, you'll pass the Lucille Test.
Stern's Nightmare
There's a pretty good chance we'll see a rematch of Kobe vs. Lebron in the NBA Finals. But it's not unlikely we'll see Denver-Cleveland, or even worse, Utah-Cleveland. David Stern's nightmare is wasting the greatness of Lebron James on a Utah-Cleveland series. That thing might get Stanley Cup ratings.
But Lebron in New York? A Knicks-Whomever Finals? This could return the NBA to its glory days. And what is good for the NBA is good for Lebron - yet another step on the way to the Duper Level.
The Jeter Parallel
Another way of thinking about this is to remember my old friend Derek Jeter. Now Derek Jeter is a fine ball player, but he's no Mickey Mantle. He has won no MVPs, no batting titles, no home run titles. And yet, he is a Super Duper Star while clearly superior players like Albert Pujols couldn't pass the Lucille Test if you spotted her the Albert and the Pujo.
And why has he achieved the Duper Level? Because 15 years ago a Yankee team that did everything well went on a 5-year run, and he was arguably the best player on that team. Amazing what winning titles in New York will do for you.
What is Lebron Thinking?
Of course none of this matters if Lebron wants to stay in Cleveland. He's a hometown boy, can make a higher salary in Cleveland than anywhere else, and already has national endorsement deals. One could forgive him for thinking he is quite Duper enough already, thank you very much, regardless of what Lucille thinks.
And of course you don't have to play in New York to go Duper. Peyton Manning plays in the tiny little town of Indianapolis, population 784,118, where until recently the NFL was the fourth most popular sport behind college hoops, auto racing, and cow-tipping. Brooklyn has neighborhoods bigger than that. At rush hour, the 7 train holds more people than that. And yet Peyton is as Duper as you get.
But the NBA has lost some of its power to create stars. Random fun fact: the two worst-selling newstand issues that Sports Illustrated and ESPN Magazine had in 2009 were ones featuring Dwight Howard on the cover. The NBA does not have the star-making power it once had.
That said, I think the results of this year's playoffs could impact his decision. If, for example, the Cavs choke in the postseason, he may feel he needs to stay and win a title for Ohio. And good for him if he does.
But if he wins a ring for Cleveland, and does so over Utah in a 6-game series that gets lower ratings than Conan O'Brien, he just might want to hear what those folks in the Garden have to say.
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Curious Popularity of March Madness
In the past I’ve been a bit of a bully, picking on lesser sports like swimming and softball. But today I’m going to take on one of our most popular sporting events, college basketball.
Don’t get me wrong. I totally get the appeal of March Madness. I watched the last ten minutes of Northern Iowa-Kansas and was captivated by every possession. I watched in wonderment yesterday as an Ivy League school, the 12 seed Cornell, completely dismantled a Big Ten team, the 4 seed Wisconsin. And I too felt the pain of watching my brackets crumble as Villanova and Kansas fell.
During my sophomore and junior years, I experienced the joy of watching my small school, Fairfield University, make the tournament (FU has only made the tourney three times in its history and I was lucky to be a student for two of them). Further, I’ve been to a Final Four weekend – North Carolina’s victory over Illinois in 2006 - and count it among my greatest experiences as a sports fan.
So I’m not here to knock college basketball exactly. Rather I’m here to wonder aloud how a sport that has so many potentially fatal flaws is so damned popular. Here is my list of why college basketball should suck:
+ Sixty Five teams make the postseason. Isn’t this ridiculous? Most professional sports leagues only have 30 teams or so, and fewer than half make the postseason. Baseball purists complain about wild cards because – gasp! –8 whole teams play in October. But in men’s basketball the tournament is the post-season and sixty–five frickin’ teams make it (and another half-dozen believe they got jobbed). This creates two problems for the casual fan. One, who can possibly track all these teams and still have cranium space for less important subjects like healthcare legislation or your children’s middle names. And two, it kinda sorta renders the entire “regular season” a joke – doesn’t it?
+ Roster Turnover. Even if you did have the time and energy to track so many teams, or even half of them, remember that all of these teams have 100% roster turnover at least every four years and the better players don't last that long. Carmelo Anthony, the best player to win a college championship the past 25 years, did it at as a freshman. We’d barely learned his name and he was gone from the sport. Imagine how much better this sport would be if we got to see Carmelo wearing orange for four years?
+ Mediocre Stars. Final Four weekends of yore featured future NBA legends on a regular basis. Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Isiah Thomas, Hakeem Olajuwon, Kareem Abdul Jabbar, Patrick Ewing, Wilt Chamberlain, Bill Russell, Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, Oscar Robertson – they all played and excelled in the Final Four and most of them won a title and the Most Outstanding Player award. But the great players of today either skip college entirely (Lebron, Kobe, Garnett, Dwight Howard), pass through so quickly you don’t notice them (Steve Nash, Chris Bosh), can’t get their team out of the Sweet 16 (Shaquille O’Neal, Tim Duncan), or come from abroad (Dirk Nowitzki, Yao Ming). Which leaves us watching a collection of mediocre players who will end up in Europe, coaching, or at the end of the Knicks bench. (For more detail, see my piece Heaven without Stars).
+ Unfair Matchups. In most sports, there is some sort of governing authority that sets the schedule and creates a level playing field. But in college sports there are multiple conferences that set a conference schedule, thus freeing up schools to set the rest of their schedule to their liking. The result is that the strong schools get to make the rules. If Fairfield wants to play North Carolina, North Carolina will say sure – in our building on the day we decide with ACC refs. And if you don’t like it, tough. That’s not very sporting, is it?
Can you imagine any other sport with these flaws? College football doesn’t – most college football players stay for four years, the conference schedule comprises most of the games, and only a handful of bowl positions really matter. Imagine the NBA with 300 teams, 65 in the post-season, all Laker-Clippers games at the Staples Center and LeBron already retired.
But you know what? It just doesn’t matter. Or maybe those very flaws are the game’s strengths. Who are these guys from Northern Iowa and Cornell? Is Kentucky as vulnerable as Kansas? Will Syracuse redeem the Big East? These questions, because of their newness, are much more interesting, or at least different, than wondering again if Brett Favre is returning, or watching Jeter and the Yankees making their 47th playoff run, or seeing Shaq win another ring with another talented teammate.
Besides, I’ve got Kentucky winning it all, so my sheet ain’t dead yet!
Don’t get me wrong. I totally get the appeal of March Madness. I watched the last ten minutes of Northern Iowa-Kansas and was captivated by every possession. I watched in wonderment yesterday as an Ivy League school, the 12 seed Cornell, completely dismantled a Big Ten team, the 4 seed Wisconsin. And I too felt the pain of watching my brackets crumble as Villanova and Kansas fell.
During my sophomore and junior years, I experienced the joy of watching my small school, Fairfield University, make the tournament (FU has only made the tourney three times in its history and I was lucky to be a student for two of them). Further, I’ve been to a Final Four weekend – North Carolina’s victory over Illinois in 2006 - and count it among my greatest experiences as a sports fan.
So I’m not here to knock college basketball exactly. Rather I’m here to wonder aloud how a sport that has so many potentially fatal flaws is so damned popular. Here is my list of why college basketball should suck:
+ Sixty Five teams make the postseason. Isn’t this ridiculous? Most professional sports leagues only have 30 teams or so, and fewer than half make the postseason. Baseball purists complain about wild cards because – gasp! –8 whole teams play in October. But in men’s basketball the tournament is the post-season and sixty–five frickin’ teams make it (and another half-dozen believe they got jobbed). This creates two problems for the casual fan. One, who can possibly track all these teams and still have cranium space for less important subjects like healthcare legislation or your children’s middle names. And two, it kinda sorta renders the entire “regular season” a joke – doesn’t it?
+ Roster Turnover. Even if you did have the time and energy to track so many teams, or even half of them, remember that all of these teams have 100% roster turnover at least every four years and the better players don't last that long. Carmelo Anthony, the best player to win a college championship the past 25 years, did it at as a freshman. We’d barely learned his name and he was gone from the sport. Imagine how much better this sport would be if we got to see Carmelo wearing orange for four years?
+ Mediocre Stars. Final Four weekends of yore featured future NBA legends on a regular basis. Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Isiah Thomas, Hakeem Olajuwon, Kareem Abdul Jabbar, Patrick Ewing, Wilt Chamberlain, Bill Russell, Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, Oscar Robertson – they all played and excelled in the Final Four and most of them won a title and the Most Outstanding Player award. But the great players of today either skip college entirely (Lebron, Kobe, Garnett, Dwight Howard), pass through so quickly you don’t notice them (Steve Nash, Chris Bosh), can’t get their team out of the Sweet 16 (Shaquille O’Neal, Tim Duncan), or come from abroad (Dirk Nowitzki, Yao Ming). Which leaves us watching a collection of mediocre players who will end up in Europe, coaching, or at the end of the Knicks bench. (For more detail, see my piece Heaven without Stars).
+ Unfair Matchups. In most sports, there is some sort of governing authority that sets the schedule and creates a level playing field. But in college sports there are multiple conferences that set a conference schedule, thus freeing up schools to set the rest of their schedule to their liking. The result is that the strong schools get to make the rules. If Fairfield wants to play North Carolina, North Carolina will say sure – in our building on the day we decide with ACC refs. And if you don’t like it, tough. That’s not very sporting, is it?
Can you imagine any other sport with these flaws? College football doesn’t – most college football players stay for four years, the conference schedule comprises most of the games, and only a handful of bowl positions really matter. Imagine the NBA with 300 teams, 65 in the post-season, all Laker-Clippers games at the Staples Center and LeBron already retired.
But you know what? It just doesn’t matter. Or maybe those very flaws are the game’s strengths. Who are these guys from Northern Iowa and Cornell? Is Kentucky as vulnerable as Kansas? Will Syracuse redeem the Big East? These questions, because of their newness, are much more interesting, or at least different, than wondering again if Brett Favre is returning, or watching Jeter and the Yankees making their 47th playoff run, or seeing Shaq win another ring with another talented teammate.
Besides, I’ve got Kentucky winning it all, so my sheet ain’t dead yet!
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Enduring Attraction of the Civil War
I recently watched Gods and Generals, a 2003 Civil War movie based on the novel by Jeff Shaara. It attempts, in the span of 3 hours and 45 minutes, to cover the two years of fighting in Northern Virginia between April 1861 and April 1863.
It is an impossible task and the filmmakers fail. Impossible because those two years include First Bull Run, Second Bull Run, The Valley campaign, the 7 Days battle, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville. These are some of the largest, most important battles in American history. And oh, by the way, these two years saw some of the most momentous political events in American history, like the election of Abraham Lincoln, secession, and the Emancipation Proclamation.
Maybe – maybe – you can capture the sweep of this period with a long miniseries, a la Band of Brothers*. But it is impossible in a theatrically-released film, even one as interminably long as Gods and Generals, to cover the period without unforgivable omissions. For example, the filmmakers simply pretend that George McClellan, the most important Union general of the period, and the battles he was in, simply didn’t exist.
* The mini-series is a highly underrated art form. In fact, two of my favorite “movies” of all time, Band of Brothers and Lonesome Dove, are miniseries. Miniseries are the only way to fully present a book on screen in all its richness. Also, to be fair, the filmmakers behind Gods & Generals also made Gettysburg, a fine Civil War film.
But still…I watched the whole damn thing. Yeah, some of it was painful, particularly the scenes that had, you know, dialogue. (in fact, some of the worst dialogue is uttered by Stonewall Jackson, played by the fine actor Stephen Lang, who you probably saw as Colonel Quaritch in a little flick called Avatar.)
But the battle scenes –it’s impossible to take your eyes away from the battle scenes, particularly if you’ve ever been captivated by the Civil War. The first clash at Bull Run. The Northern waves rolling up Marye’s Heights at Fredericksburg. And most compellingly, the Confederates under Robert Rodes stealthily emerging from the woods to hit O.O. Howard’s troops at Chancellorsville, the high mark of the Confederacy.
The Civil War is the American Iliad, and seeing these scenes brought to life as realistically as it’s ever been done is extraordinary. And it’s a reminder of the enduring attraction of the Civil War.
A Dramatic Climax
Ken Burns, the brilliant documentarian who made The Civil War and many other extraordinary documentaries about America, recounted a conversation he had with Shelby Foote, the historian who became an unlikely star in Burns’ masterpiece. Burns mentioned that he had never been to Ford’s Theater, the site of Lincoln’s assassination, because he found the idea of being there too emotionally painful.
Foote exclaimed, “But Lincoln’s assassination was the best part of the Civil War!” (Or something to that effect; I’m going from memory on the quote).
Burns was shocked. He knew Foote to be a great admirer of Lincoln; in fact Foote believed Lincoln and Nathan Bedford Forrest* to be the two authentic geniuses produced by The Civil War.
* Forrest is a fascinating individual, in many ways the epitome of the best and worst of America. He was a poor man who made a fortune, but the fortune was made at least in part as a slave trader. He was a brilliant, self-taught cavalry commander; a born genius on the battlefield, he was the only individual to enlist as a private and finish the war as a lieutenant general. He was an early leader of the Ku Klux Klan, but in 1875 gave a speech that recommended what was, for the time, an enlightened and radically aggressive agenda of equality for black Americans. The curious contradictory nature of Forrest made him a touchstone for many writers, notably Faulkner. Today he is mostly known as the guy who gave Mr. Gump his first name. It must pain the ghost of N.B. Forrest, one of the most aggressive military leaders in American history, that his name is most famously associated with the expression “Run, Forrest, run!!”
But Burns slowly realized what Foote meant. Shelby Foote was a novelist by training and a historian by accident. And as a novelist the assassination of Abraham Lincoln – days after Appomattox but before the final surrender of the South – was a dramatic climax to the story of the Civil War, a perfect finish to a beautifully constructed plot. (Burns, on the other hand, is the classic sensitive artist type, hence his reluctance to enter Ford’s).
That story stayed with me, and the more I thought about it the more I realized that Americans’ enduring interest in the Civil War can be partly explained by the unusually dramatic arc of the war. In fact, it all plays out rather nicely as a 3-act play.
Act I
The first act centers on the run-up to and start of the war.
It can start in many places – as early as the first slaves arriving in Virginia, or the compromises built into the Constitution, or the end of the Mexican War, which added new states to the Union and new controversy over whether those states would be free or not.
But I’d start it on May 22, 1856, when South Carolina Senator Preston Brooks beat Massachussets Senator Charles Sumner with a wooden cane on the floor of the Senate, in response to an anti-slavery speech made Sumner three days earlier. The beating was so savage that Sumner couldn’t return to the Senate for 3 years. *
* And people get worked up about Joe Wilson – also of South Carolina - shouting “You Lie!” during President Obama’s healthcare speech, or Rahm Emmanuel's bullying. Anyone who thinks Washington DC used to be more civil should get thee to a library.
From there we’d follow the story through Bleeding Kansas, the Lincoln-Douglas debates, Lincoln’s election, Secession, and the Fort Sumter crisis. We’d be introduced to characters who’d become important later – like Robert E. Lee, a colonel in the United States Army, who ends John Brown’s siege of Harper’s Ferry.
Act I ends with the bombardment of Fort Sumter and the beginning of the Civil War.
Act II
The story of Act II is the story of the underdog Confederacy. They are outnumbered, out gunned, out-allied, out-everything – and yet they win battle after battle. Robert E. Lee is the star of Act II, and a succession of bumbling Union generals provide the pathos and the comedy. But others rise too – the flamboyant Confederate cavalryman Jeb Stuart, an eloquent but unsure Abraham Lincoln learning his job, and just offstage, a stoic Union general named U.S. Grant providing foreshadowing out West.
Act II has no shortage of political drama, as Lincoln balances the demands of Radical Republicans who want abolition and Copperhead Democrats who want to let the South go. He demonstrates his political shrewdness through the timing and military justification for the Emancipation Proclamation.
Act II ends with the Southern invasion of Pennsylvania and the dramatic victory by the Union at Gettysburg, coupled with Grant’s victory at Vicksburg. With the end of the act, the tide has turned.
Act III
Here’s where Foote’s observation about Ford’s Theater comes into play. Act III would be a fairly boring act – a grinding series of battles between Lee and Grant leading to the inevitable Union victory. There is no drama and little poetry during the brutal final 9 months of the war. Then – pow! – John Wilkes Booth, who fittingly happens to be an accomplished dramatic actor*, kills Lincoln, leaps onto the stage and runs out of the theater. A despicable act, but as Foote says, from a dramatic standpoint the highlight of the war, and the one that destined Lincoln for the pantheon.
* Again...people who think actors and their political views are annoying now should recall the past...
Of course a great play requires more than just compelling characters and a well-structured plot. It needs dialogue, and boy does the CW deliver dialogue. Quotes from Lincoln alone fill books, but many other quotes from "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead" to "War is hell" derive from the War Between the States.
One can argue, certainly, that the American Revolution is a more important war. The Revolution created America, whereas the Civil War merely maintained it. And we have been, since at least 1994's Saving Private Ryan, obsessed with the Second World War.
But the Civil War endures, and I suspect it will for a long time. The walls of Troy were stormed some 3000 years ago (or maybe not; who knows?) and many of us are still familiar with the feats of Achilles, Hector, and Odysseus.
Will the same be true of the American Civil War? I suspect so, and like the Iliad, it will be in part because of its dramatic structure.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Small Dog Manifesto
I did not grow up with small dogs.
Our first dog was an Airedale named Tara. Tara was as beautiful as her name, but she had the size and temperament of Sherman’s army. Visitors to my childhood home would walk by the front windows before reaching the door and Tara – ever alert – greeted them with an artillery roar of barking and combined infantry and cavalry assaults on the windows. By the time the visitor reached the doorbell they were as frightened as the Confederate countryside.
Tara’s successor, Sandy, a medium-sized mutt , was calmer and friendlier and could catch any item thrown her way – but left more hair around the house than Ed Asner leaves in the shower.
Finally, there was Clancy, a Wheaton terrier. Have you ever heard of the Wheaton Greetin’? Clancy was a handsome, non-shedding dog with an agreeable disposition – but when somebody new entered the house he got more excited than Norm Peterson at a brewery. He jumped and slobbered and pawed any new visitor with boundless enthusiasm, even if they’d just returned from bringing out the trash. The Wheaton Greetin’ was particularly painful for men of a certain height, if you get my drift.
My wife, on the other hand, grew up with small dogs. Poodles. Toy poodles. Poodles named - and I kid you not – Fifi, Gigi, and Tiffany. My father-in-law was an NYPD cop at the time, but owned a pack of dogs that would have been more at home at Liberace’s house.
So a couple of years ago when my wife and I began talking about getting a dog, you can guess what she wanted. And since wives often get what wives want (don’t get me started on our phony Christmas tree) I am now the proud owner of a toy poodle named Finn (yeah, that's him up top).
And you know what? I love Finn (full name: Finnegan Whitebeard). In fact, I’ve become a strong advocate for the ownership of small dogs, specifically poodles. And as a public service to you, my faithful readers, I’d like to share with you Nine Reasons I’m glad we brought this little fella into our home. Some of them apply to all small dogs and some to poodles in particular.
- Poodles are ranked by trainers as the second-smartest dogs behind the Border collie. Sometimes the boundless stupidity of dogs is part of their charm and if you are willing to put in the time and effort, you can train any dog. But if, like me, you want to deploy a sort of half-assed approach to dog training, and leave it up to the intelligence of the dog to figure out the rest, get a poodle.
- Like most families with young children, we bought a dog because our kids wanted a puppy. Most people go out and get a golden retriever or a chocolate lab or some other huge dog, and they come into the house as the cutest little puppies you could imagine. And the kids love them. They cuddle, roll around with them on the floor, let them on their lap, pick them up, you name it. Then, within a year, these beasts tower over them and all that play time is gone forever. Not Finn, though. He is fully grown but perpetually puppy-sized. He can sit on our lap, play with 3 year-olds, hop on the couch and not take up much room. If you like puppies, you’ll like small dogs.
- Shedding sucks. Poodles don’t shed.
- Sh*t happens - you know what I’m saying? And an immutable law of nature is: smaller dogs = smaller poops. Finnegan pinches out tootsie rolls, which are much easier to deal with than large, steaming fetid mounds of large canine…well, you get the point.
- I remember clearly the moment I gave in to the debate with my wife. St. Patrick’s Day 2007 she made Irish soda breads for everyone on our block and my daughter and I cruised the neighborhood giving them out. I live in a big dog neighborhood, and every doorbell we rang set off an explosion of barking, clawing and yelling (“Hunter! Down Hunter!”). Each neighbor opened the door, using arms and legs to hold back their dog(s) while struggling to reach out and accept our proffered gift. Our little fuzzy slipper of a dog doesn’t turn every door knock into a scene from an action movie.
- Master Burglar Walter Shaw was on Oprah recently with advice on home protection. One of his tips: get a small dog. He always avoided houses with small barking dogs like poodles and chihuahas. Small dogs are not good guard dogs but they are excellent watch dogs.
- You know the old rule, one human year = seven dog years. Not true. Different dog breeds have different life spans and the toy poodle, at 12-15 years, is among the longest.
- Smaller dogs = less food = smaller food budget.
- When big dog owners go on a trip, they have to figure out what to do with their loud, drooling, hairy, hungry poop machines, usually spending money on a kennel. Not us – finding a weekend babysitter for a cute, playful, non-shedding 10-pounder who poops tootsie rolls is a piece of cake.
Don't get me wrong. There are downsides to having a 10 pound dog. I was recently at a company dinner when our CEO, the owner of several hunting dogs, asked everyone at the table what kind of dog they had, if any. One guy has greyhounds, another German shephards. One woman broke out a camera phone picture of her ferocious beasts which appeared to be half-wookie, half-dragon. Then it was my turn.
Me: (inaudible muttering)
CEO: What?
Me: I, ah, have a poodle.
CEO: Standard size? Standards are good hunting dogs.
Me: No, um, it’s, er, smaller.
CEO: Is it a Teacup?
Me: Well, technically, it’s a toy poodle…it’s actually quite wonderful….doesn’t shed, my daughter can play with him, and, well, when you have to clean up after him…
CEO: Okay, stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself.
So yes, you will occasionally get your manhood questioned if you are the owner of a dog that can fit into your man-purse. If you had one. Which I don't.
When that happens, you simply wonder aloud what the big-dog owner is compensating for, stroke your perpetual puppy like Dr. Evil stroking Mr. Bigglesworth, and return to your quiet, hairless home.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Love Thee, Love Thee Not
Two larger than life figures – one literally, one figuratively – went down this weekend: Rex Ryan and Brett Favre. And I’m conflicted about both of these guys.
Let’s start with Rex. I want to hate Rex Ryan, I really do. As a Giants fan, I am predisposed to hate him. His father Buddy coached the early 90’s Eagles, one of the dirtiest teams of all time and a team that gave the Giants fits. On the sideline with the Oilers, he punched future Giants offensive coordinator Kevin Gilbride in the most ridiculous old-guy sports fight till Zimmer charged Pedro. And Rex himself exemplified the arrogance of the Ray Lewis Ravens teams, the defense that humiliated Big Blue in the 2000 Super Bowl.
But my main problem with Rex is that he has, in abundant quantity, my least favorite human trait: hubris. The definition of hubris is “overbearing pride or presumption” but I like to define it as loud-mouthed unearned arrogance. He has been bellowing and bragging on this team since the moment he arrived, a team that at the end of the regular season had the same record that got the last coach fired. And likely wouldn’t have been that good if the Colts played to win in week 16.
And yet…and yet…for two reasons I can’t help but like him. The first is that the hubris seems to work. Ryan’s incessant bluster would go over poorly with a veteran, professional team like the Colts, one that already knows it is good. But he’s a perfect fit for the Jets, a team whose players and fans have been a psychological basket case. He got this team to believe in themselves and that matters in football.
But more importantly he also has my favorite human quality: a sense of humor.
When he arrived in New York declaring that he did not come to kiss Bill Belichick’s rings, I thought to myself, what an ashhole…but I smiled as I thought it. It’s a great line and captures perfectly what he wants this team to believe about themselves. He’s the best giver of press conferences this town has seen since Parcells became a serial job-chaser.
As for Favre, my feelings are more complicated. He was, for a very long time, my favorite player in all of sports that didn’t play on one of my teams. I loved watching him play – the fun he brought to the game, the way he leaped on teammates after touchdowns, the little jump-throw he did to sell a handoff, the way he let his hair go gray. Even the interceptions * – there was something about his boyish refusal to play it safe that appealed to me.
* Whenever Favre throws an awful interception, I’m reminded of what the great historian Shelby Foote said about Robert E. Lee: Gettysburg is the price the South paid for having Lee.
And his performance in There’s Something About Mary was the best performance ever by a quarterback in a movie since Terry Bradshaw in Hooper.
But then…well you know what happened. First, the canonization by the media went way over the top. John Madden and Peter King, the head honchos of spoken and written football media, became so slobberingly infatuated with Favre’s every move that no self-respecting contrarian could keep rooting for him.
And this paled next to his agonizing off-season will-he-or-won’t-he-retire dramas. The way he held up the Packers was disgraceful, rendered more so by the class with which Aaron Rodgers comported himself. You know this story already so I won’t torture you with another retelling, especially since we’re about to begin Act IV of this interminable play.
And yet…and yet…all the reasons I liked him are still true, arguably more so since he keeps doing it at age 40. The word courage is overused in sports but for a man born in the 60’s to stand in the pocket while ferociously big and strong 25 year-olds are trying to kill him – to stand there for that extra second knowing he’s going to get creamed – to do it knowing he has already accomplished everything you can in this game – takes courage.
Not only that, he still looks like he’s having more fun out there than anyone. His much younger teammates are energized by it. And it’s a reminder that even his anguished off-season decision-making came from a genuine place – an aging body that feels every ache combined with a youthful enthusiasm that still wants to go out and fling it.
I'm very glad to see Peyton Manning, Drew Brees, the Colts and the Saints in the Super Bowl. On the surface, at least, none of the key players display the frenzied egotism we've seen Brett Favre and Rex Ryan.
But still, I think I'm gonna miss those guys...
Let’s start with Rex. I want to hate Rex Ryan, I really do. As a Giants fan, I am predisposed to hate him. His father Buddy coached the early 90’s Eagles, one of the dirtiest teams of all time and a team that gave the Giants fits. On the sideline with the Oilers, he punched future Giants offensive coordinator Kevin Gilbride in the most ridiculous old-guy sports fight till Zimmer charged Pedro. And Rex himself exemplified the arrogance of the Ray Lewis Ravens teams, the defense that humiliated Big Blue in the 2000 Super Bowl.
But my main problem with Rex is that he has, in abundant quantity, my least favorite human trait: hubris. The definition of hubris is “overbearing pride or presumption” but I like to define it as loud-mouthed unearned arrogance. He has been bellowing and bragging on this team since the moment he arrived, a team that at the end of the regular season had the same record that got the last coach fired. And likely wouldn’t have been that good if the Colts played to win in week 16.
And yet…and yet…for two reasons I can’t help but like him. The first is that the hubris seems to work. Ryan’s incessant bluster would go over poorly with a veteran, professional team like the Colts, one that already knows it is good. But he’s a perfect fit for the Jets, a team whose players and fans have been a psychological basket case. He got this team to believe in themselves and that matters in football.
But more importantly he also has my favorite human quality: a sense of humor.
When he arrived in New York declaring that he did not come to kiss Bill Belichick’s rings, I thought to myself, what an ashhole…but I smiled as I thought it. It’s a great line and captures perfectly what he wants this team to believe about themselves. He’s the best giver of press conferences this town has seen since Parcells became a serial job-chaser.
As for Favre, my feelings are more complicated. He was, for a very long time, my favorite player in all of sports that didn’t play on one of my teams. I loved watching him play – the fun he brought to the game, the way he leaped on teammates after touchdowns, the little jump-throw he did to sell a handoff, the way he let his hair go gray. Even the interceptions * – there was something about his boyish refusal to play it safe that appealed to me.
* Whenever Favre throws an awful interception, I’m reminded of what the great historian Shelby Foote said about Robert E. Lee: Gettysburg is the price the South paid for having Lee.
And his performance in There’s Something About Mary was the best performance ever by a quarterback in a movie since Terry Bradshaw in Hooper.
But then…well you know what happened. First, the canonization by the media went way over the top. John Madden and Peter King, the head honchos of spoken and written football media, became so slobberingly infatuated with Favre’s every move that no self-respecting contrarian could keep rooting for him.
And this paled next to his agonizing off-season will-he-or-won’t-he-retire dramas. The way he held up the Packers was disgraceful, rendered more so by the class with which Aaron Rodgers comported himself. You know this story already so I won’t torture you with another retelling, especially since we’re about to begin Act IV of this interminable play.
And yet…and yet…all the reasons I liked him are still true, arguably more so since he keeps doing it at age 40. The word courage is overused in sports but for a man born in the 60’s to stand in the pocket while ferociously big and strong 25 year-olds are trying to kill him – to stand there for that extra second knowing he’s going to get creamed – to do it knowing he has already accomplished everything you can in this game – takes courage.
Not only that, he still looks like he’s having more fun out there than anyone. His much younger teammates are energized by it. And it’s a reminder that even his anguished off-season decision-making came from a genuine place – an aging body that feels every ache combined with a youthful enthusiasm that still wants to go out and fling it.
I'm very glad to see Peyton Manning, Drew Brees, the Colts and the Saints in the Super Bowl. On the surface, at least, none of the key players display the frenzied egotism we've seen Brett Favre and Rex Ryan.
But still, I think I'm gonna miss those guys...
Friday, January 15, 2010
National Hat Day
Happy National Hat Day! I bet you didn't know it was National Hat Day. But that's why we here at FreeTime exist - to share facts with you that you didn't know you cared about it till the moment you read it.
In honor of National Hat Day, I'm re-posting a piece I originally wrote in December 2008 called Men Without Hats, in which I argued for a glorious return to our head-covered past. Here ya go:
On January 20, 1961, John F. Kennedy was sworn in as the youngest elected President in United States history. As he went through the carefully orchestrated ceremony of the day, he did so hatless. Kennedy believed hats made him look old so he refused to be photographed in one. Considered the most glamorous and sophisticated man in the world, JFK’s bare head was a dagger to the hat industry, whose sales dropped precipitously and never recovered.
That’s how the story has always been told anyway. An entire book was even written about it (Hatless Jack: The Presidency, The Fedora, and the History of American Style). It turns out to be a myth, though, effectively skewered by Snopes.
Still, something happened. Men used to wear hats. Picture large crowds at a baseball game from the first half of the 20th century and every guy’s got a fedora, a bowler, a derby – some kind of stylish headgear.
The ubiquity of hats was perfectly captured in this exchange from Seinfeld*:
Elaine: You should have lived in the 20's and 30's. You know men wore hats all the time then.
George: What a bald paradise that must have been! Nobody knew!
* Seinfeld is to 21st century Americans what the Bible was to Western Civilization for thousands of years – the text that provides wise and relevant quotes on nearly every subject.
Government Bailout for Hat Industry?
I bring all this up because we’ve had some nasty weather in New York lately. Snow, sleet, howling wind, freezing rain. And as I walk the city streets I see men in suits coping with the weather in one of four ways:
The first two look ridiculous with a suit. The third is overkill. And the fourth is too stupid to merit comment.
* There are two types of umbrellas. The tiny ones, which aren't much bigger than a hat. And the huge golf umbrellas. I have a message to those guys with the huge ones, the ones that are designed to cover Tiger Woods, his caddy, his golf bag, and the entire 14th green: Everybody hates you.
A handful of us, me included, were wearing wide-brimmed hats. Mine is a brown Indiana Jones-type thing. I get a lot of abuse for this hat, best summed up by my son as I returned from work one evening. “You wear that in public?”
But it’s a wonderful thing. It keeps my head warm. The wide brim collects flakes and repels light rain. And in my opinion, it’s rather stylish. All I need now is for hats to come back in style so I can wear it with slightly less embarrassment than I do today.
And there is one man who has the power to bring it back. On January 20, 2009, the glamorous and sophisticated Barack Obama will take office. Will he go bareheaded, a la the mythical Jack Kennedy? Or will he don a snap-brim fedora, tilted at a rakish angle. If he does the latter, look for the comeback of the hat industry.
Now that’s change I can believe in.
In honor of National Hat Day, I'm re-posting a piece I originally wrote in December 2008 called Men Without Hats, in which I argued for a glorious return to our head-covered past. Here ya go:
On January 20, 1961, John F. Kennedy was sworn in as the youngest elected President in United States history. As he went through the carefully orchestrated ceremony of the day, he did so hatless. Kennedy believed hats made him look old so he refused to be photographed in one. Considered the most glamorous and sophisticated man in the world, JFK’s bare head was a dagger to the hat industry, whose sales dropped precipitously and never recovered.
That’s how the story has always been told anyway. An entire book was even written about it (Hatless Jack: The Presidency, The Fedora, and the History of American Style). It turns out to be a myth, though, effectively skewered by Snopes.
Still, something happened. Men used to wear hats. Picture large crowds at a baseball game from the first half of the 20th century and every guy’s got a fedora, a bowler, a derby – some kind of stylish headgear.
The ubiquity of hats was perfectly captured in this exchange from Seinfeld*:
Elaine: You should have lived in the 20's and 30's. You know men wore hats all the time then.
George: What a bald paradise that must have been! Nobody knew!
* Seinfeld is to 21st century Americans what the Bible was to Western Civilization for thousands of years – the text that provides wise and relevant quotes on nearly every subject.
Government Bailout for Hat Industry?
I bring all this up because we’ve had some nasty weather in New York lately. Snow, sleet, howling wind, freezing rain. And as I walk the city streets I see men in suits coping with the weather in one of four ways:
- Baseball hat
- Wool cap
- Umbrella*
- Bare head
The first two look ridiculous with a suit. The third is overkill. And the fourth is too stupid to merit comment.
* There are two types of umbrellas. The tiny ones, which aren't much bigger than a hat. And the huge golf umbrellas. I have a message to those guys with the huge ones, the ones that are designed to cover Tiger Woods, his caddy, his golf bag, and the entire 14th green: Everybody hates you.
A handful of us, me included, were wearing wide-brimmed hats. Mine is a brown Indiana Jones-type thing. I get a lot of abuse for this hat, best summed up by my son as I returned from work one evening. “You wear that in public?”
But it’s a wonderful thing. It keeps my head warm. The wide brim collects flakes and repels light rain. And in my opinion, it’s rather stylish. All I need now is for hats to come back in style so I can wear it with slightly less embarrassment than I do today.
And there is one man who has the power to bring it back. On January 20, 2009, the glamorous and sophisticated Barack Obama will take office. Will he go bareheaded, a la the mythical Jack Kennedy? Or will he don a snap-brim fedora, tilted at a rakish angle. If he does the latter, look for the comeback of the hat industry.
Now that’s change I can believe in.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Thick-Necked Cliche Machines
It’s time for the FreeTime NFL playoff predictions!
While other “analysts” and “experts” try to predict who will “win” the “games”, we go about things a little differently here at FreeTime. That is because we have no idea who will win the games. This is a league, after all, in which the 5/6 seed has won two of the last four Super Bowls, and four of the last twelve.
Bengals-Jets: who knows? Pats-Ravens: you got me. Cowboys-Eagles: beats my two pair. Packers-Cardinals: seriously, I’m not kidding, I have no idea.
But I can confidently predict that an army of large, thick-necked men of limited vocabulary will appear on your television screens over the next month loudly and emphatically spouting cliches that have no basis in established fact.
Here are some of the things you'll hear:
"Defense Wins in the Playoffs, Boom."
This statement is absolutely true…except when it’s not. Since 1970, 15 top-ranked defenses have appeared in the Super Bowl. But 17 top-ranked offenses have appeared. In the same time period, 42 top-five defenses have played in the Super Bowl, while 45 top-five offenses got there.
For every Super Bowl Champion that relied mostly on defense to win (02 Bucs, 00 Ravens), I can name a Super Bowl Champion that relied mostly on offense (99 Rams, 06 Colts). Super Bowl champions, except for the rare exceptions like the four in this paragraph, are teams that are very good on both sides of the ball.
Bonus FreeTime Trivia question: only 3 Super Bowl champs have finished the season #1 in offense and defense. Name them (answer below).
(Hat tip to Arrow Head Addict)
"JB, Momentum is Really Important in the Playoffs."
Last year the Cardinals lost 4 of their last 6, and were blown out in 3 of those losses. They went on to beat the Falcons, Panthers, and Eagles in the playoffs and came within a spectacular Santonio Holmes catch of winning the Super Bowl. The 2007 Giants went 4-4 in the 2nd half and lost 2 of their last 3 games, including a home game against the non-playoff Redskins. They won the Super Bowl.
Oh, and everyone who thinks the Jets are a lock against the Bengals because they blew them out 37-0 last week, consider this: The Eagles destroyed the Cardinals 48-20 in Week 13 last year. Naturally, they lost to the Cardinals in the NFC Championship game two months later.
"As you know, Terry, experience is Really Important in the Playoffs."
On February 3, 2002, Tom Brady walked on the field for Super Bowl XXXV. He was an NFL rookie. It was his 17th NFL start. He started the season on the Patriot’s bench and was only starting because of an injury to Drew Bledsoe. The vast majority of his teammates had zero rings on their fingers. The Patriots won the Super Bowl.
On February 4, 2008, Tom Brady walked on the field for Super Bowl XLII. He was an NFL veteran. He’d had over 100 NFL starts. He was a 3-time Super Bowl winner, a 2-time Super Bowl MVP, that season’s MVP, and a sure-fire Hall of Famer. Most of his teammates had extensive playoff experience and some had multiple Super Bowl rings. The Patriots lost the Super Bowl.
In fact, since 2001 every Super Bowl has been won by a QB appearing in their very first Super Bowl, except for Brady’s 2nd and 3rd, and Roethlisberger’s 2nd. And Roethlisberger’s 2nd was won by a rookie head coach. The head coaches of all those winners (again, except for Belichick), were appearing in their first Super Bowl.
"Special Teams is the Key, Cris."
Yeah, special teams is the key, way more important than scoring points on offense and preventing them on defense. This is too stupid for me to even refute with statistics but I do guarantee these words will be uttered at some point this month. I can, however, explain why people can’t stop themselves from uttering this stupidity once in a while.
Special teams are usually boring, predictable, and uneventful. Punts are rarely returned more than 10 yards, and kick-offs rarely more than 30. Short field goals tend to go in and longer ones are a little sketchier. But every once in a while a kickoff is returned for a touchdown or a field goal is blocked and because that is so unusual it is given more importance than the 120 plays that occurred that day.
But if special teams were so important, they wouldn't put all the backups there.
"In the playoffs..."
What all of the above nonsense has in common is the idea that playoff football is demonstrably different than regular season football. Oh sure, the rules are the same and the field is the same and the scoring is the same and the players are the same and the officials are the same and the equipment is the same…but it’s the playoffs. And different things matter in the playoffs.
Now I’m willing to concede that these thick-necked mastodons have actually played in the playoffs, whereas I mostly watch them on television and occasionally from Section 303 in Giants Stadium. But it seems to me that playoff games work out pretty much the same ways as regular season games. Sometimes it’s a blowout, sometimes its close. Sometimes a handful of big plays are decisive, sometimes it’s a long grind of a game. Sometimes teams win by throwing it 50 times and sometimes they win with a committed ground attack. Sometimes there are dramatic comebacks and sometimes there aren’t. Line play, a balanced offensive attack, putting pressure on the quarterback, turnovers – these things that are so important in regular season games are also important in playoff games.
So whenever you hear the announcer preface any observation with “In the playoffs….” put your b.s. monitor on alert. Oh, and one more thing: take the Packers and the points.
Trivia answer: 72 Dolphins, 89 Niners, and 96 Packers
While other “analysts” and “experts” try to predict who will “win” the “games”, we go about things a little differently here at FreeTime. That is because we have no idea who will win the games. This is a league, after all, in which the 5/6 seed has won two of the last four Super Bowls, and four of the last twelve.
Bengals-Jets: who knows? Pats-Ravens: you got me. Cowboys-Eagles: beats my two pair. Packers-Cardinals: seriously, I’m not kidding, I have no idea.
But I can confidently predict that an army of large, thick-necked men of limited vocabulary will appear on your television screens over the next month loudly and emphatically spouting cliches that have no basis in established fact.
Here are some of the things you'll hear:
"Defense Wins in the Playoffs, Boom."
This statement is absolutely true…except when it’s not. Since 1970, 15 top-ranked defenses have appeared in the Super Bowl. But 17 top-ranked offenses have appeared. In the same time period, 42 top-five defenses have played in the Super Bowl, while 45 top-five offenses got there.
For every Super Bowl Champion that relied mostly on defense to win (02 Bucs, 00 Ravens), I can name a Super Bowl Champion that relied mostly on offense (99 Rams, 06 Colts). Super Bowl champions, except for the rare exceptions like the four in this paragraph, are teams that are very good on both sides of the ball.
Bonus FreeTime Trivia question: only 3 Super Bowl champs have finished the season #1 in offense and defense. Name them (answer below).
(Hat tip to Arrow Head Addict)
"JB, Momentum is Really Important in the Playoffs."
Last year the Cardinals lost 4 of their last 6, and were blown out in 3 of those losses. They went on to beat the Falcons, Panthers, and Eagles in the playoffs and came within a spectacular Santonio Holmes catch of winning the Super Bowl. The 2007 Giants went 4-4 in the 2nd half and lost 2 of their last 3 games, including a home game against the non-playoff Redskins. They won the Super Bowl.
Oh, and everyone who thinks the Jets are a lock against the Bengals because they blew them out 37-0 last week, consider this: The Eagles destroyed the Cardinals 48-20 in Week 13 last year. Naturally, they lost to the Cardinals in the NFC Championship game two months later.
"As you know, Terry, experience is Really Important in the Playoffs."
On February 3, 2002, Tom Brady walked on the field for Super Bowl XXXV. He was an NFL rookie. It was his 17th NFL start. He started the season on the Patriot’s bench and was only starting because of an injury to Drew Bledsoe. The vast majority of his teammates had zero rings on their fingers. The Patriots won the Super Bowl.
On February 4, 2008, Tom Brady walked on the field for Super Bowl XLII. He was an NFL veteran. He’d had over 100 NFL starts. He was a 3-time Super Bowl winner, a 2-time Super Bowl MVP, that season’s MVP, and a sure-fire Hall of Famer. Most of his teammates had extensive playoff experience and some had multiple Super Bowl rings. The Patriots lost the Super Bowl.
In fact, since 2001 every Super Bowl has been won by a QB appearing in their very first Super Bowl, except for Brady’s 2nd and 3rd, and Roethlisberger’s 2nd. And Roethlisberger’s 2nd was won by a rookie head coach. The head coaches of all those winners (again, except for Belichick), were appearing in their first Super Bowl.
"Special Teams is the Key, Cris."
Yeah, special teams is the key, way more important than scoring points on offense and preventing them on defense. This is too stupid for me to even refute with statistics but I do guarantee these words will be uttered at some point this month. I can, however, explain why people can’t stop themselves from uttering this stupidity once in a while.
Special teams are usually boring, predictable, and uneventful. Punts are rarely returned more than 10 yards, and kick-offs rarely more than 30. Short field goals tend to go in and longer ones are a little sketchier. But every once in a while a kickoff is returned for a touchdown or a field goal is blocked and because that is so unusual it is given more importance than the 120 plays that occurred that day.
But if special teams were so important, they wouldn't put all the backups there.
"In the playoffs..."
What all of the above nonsense has in common is the idea that playoff football is demonstrably different than regular season football. Oh sure, the rules are the same and the field is the same and the scoring is the same and the players are the same and the officials are the same and the equipment is the same…but it’s the playoffs. And different things matter in the playoffs.
Now I’m willing to concede that these thick-necked mastodons have actually played in the playoffs, whereas I mostly watch them on television and occasionally from Section 303 in Giants Stadium. But it seems to me that playoff games work out pretty much the same ways as regular season games. Sometimes it’s a blowout, sometimes its close. Sometimes a handful of big plays are decisive, sometimes it’s a long grind of a game. Sometimes teams win by throwing it 50 times and sometimes they win with a committed ground attack. Sometimes there are dramatic comebacks and sometimes there aren’t. Line play, a balanced offensive attack, putting pressure on the quarterback, turnovers – these things that are so important in regular season games are also important in playoff games.
So whenever you hear the announcer preface any observation with “In the playoffs….” put your b.s. monitor on alert. Oh, and one more thing: take the Packers and the points.
Trivia answer: 72 Dolphins, 89 Niners, and 96 Packers
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The 2009 Johnny-Bingo Awards
The suspense is over. It is time for the 2009 Johnny-Bingo Awards, given annually to the Best Books Read by Yours Truly this year.
(Go here for last year’s awards)
The award is named for the first book I remember calling my favorite – something about two boys, a dog, and a bank robber. Or maybe it was two bank robbers, a boy and a dog. Or maybe two dogs…anyway, the point is that I am the judge, jury and executioner for this, the last major literary prize handed out this year.
Okay, maybe it’s not such a major prize. But given the way the other literary prizes have been operating this year, I think I have a chance to pass them in prestige.
Take the Nobel Prize in Literature (please). This year the Nobel folks took a lot of heat for their selection of President Barack Obama for the Peace Prize. But that head-scratcher obscured the fact that the Nobel Prize in Literature went to Herta Muller, a Romanian writer so obscure that the response even in Romania seemed to be “Yay!!! Um…who?”
The Nobel Lit folks have made it clear that they despise American literature and are determined to give Nobels out to every obscure novelist on earth before the likes of Cormac McCarthy, Philip Roth, or Joyce Carol Oates grace their stage. The National Book Award on the other hand is, you know, the National book award. For Americans. It states quite clearly in their bylaws that the nominees be American.
Well, here are the nominees for this year’s National Book Award in fiction:
- Colum McCann, an Irishman born in Dublin, currently residing in New York.
- Aleksandar Hemon, a Bosnian who moved to America in 1992.
- Marcel Theroux, son of the American writer Paul Theroux, who was born in Uganda and now lives in London.
- Daniyal Mueenuddin, who grew up in Pakistan and Wisconsin, lives in the southern Punjab, and is currently spending a year in London.
- Jayne Anne Phillips, born in West Virginia and now living in New Jersey.
Can I get a “USA! USA!” chant?
The J-B Rules
I’m not as sophisticated as those other folks. I don’t read obscure Romanian novelists, I’ve never heard of Daniyal Mueenuddin, and am frequently seen with a paperbook thriller in my hand. I’m also ashamed to admit that most of the books I read are written by (gasp!) Americans – and the worst kind of Americans, the ones that are born here, live here, and write about here. Insular bastards. (Maybe I should call these the Johnny-Jingo Awards. The Bonny-Jingo Awards?)
The Johnny-Bingo Award(s) have one judge – me – and one rule: all eligible books must have been finished by me in 2009. As I said last year, it could’ve been written by a blind Greek poet in the 8th century BC or be an unpublished galley hacked from an MFA candidate’s MacBook in a Brooklyn cafe. As long as I read the final paragraph before the calendar turns, it could be a winner.
Let’s look at our finalists:
Best New Crime Novelist
Famed restaurant journalist Peter Romeo was surprised – maybe even embarrassed - to hear I had never read Dennis Lehane or George Pelecanos and pressed copies of their novels on me. I also read the newcomers Josh Bazell and Stieg Larson and tried out Stuart Woods for the first time. The first three get the coveted Keatang recommendations but we can only have one winner in the category and it is…Dennis Lehane! (please hold your applause till all the winners have been announced)
It was a tough race and I suspect that Mr. Pelecanos and I will be spending a lot more time together. But if you like your crime novel heroes hard-boiled, wise-crackin’, and existentially dark, Lehane is your guy. Be prepared though – the capacity for evil in his bad guys, not to mention his good guys, will make you weep for humanity.
Best History Book about Post-War America
I read a lot of history but they tend to cover that short period between 500 B.C. and 1945. I’m less interested, for reasons I can’t defend, in books about the post-war period. But this year I took two plunges into the 60’s (An Unfinished Life: John Kennedy 1917-1963 and Pillar of Fire: America in the King Years 1963-1965) and one into the 00’s (Horse Soldiers: The Extraordinary Story of a Band of Soldiers Who Rode to Victory in Afghanistan).
One thing about history books about the 1960’s…there is a lot of sex! JFK makes Tiger Woods look like the Dali Lama. And MLK – well, this is a worshipful book about the Reverend but there are transcripts from his hotel room romps that made me blush. You don’t see this in books about the Founders. Ben Franklin and Alexander Hamilton both got around but were fortunate enough to do so before tape recording and the FBI.
Pillar of Fire is the greater book of the three and destined for a long shelf life. But I too often got lost in the huge cast of characters and couldn’t find my way out. The book assumes knowledge of racial politics of the period that I don’t have. Horse Soldiers is a terrific story and I heartily recommend it – especially if like me you are sick and tired of the media’s treatment of America’s soldiers as either villains or victims. This is a story of true American heroes. But the writing is a little bit hokey.
Unfinished Life gets the nod. Biographer Robert Dallek doesn’t shy away from the glamorous (and sordid) stories about the Kennedys, but at its heart it’s a study of the Cold War at its peak, and the important role JFK played in it.
Best Book in an Unclassifiable Category
Lev Grossman’s The Magicians is Harry Potter meets Less Than Zero meets The Narnia Chronicles. If that sounds like something you might like, you will.
Christopher Moore’s Fool is King Lear with "gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity, as well as non-traditional grammar, spit infinitives, and the odd wank". If that sounds like something you might like, you will.
I enjoyed Fool, but the nod here goes to The Magicians.
Best Big Ideas Book
The Black Swan by Nassim Taleb is one of those books whose big idea – that human history is shaped more by huge unforeseen events rather than occurring in a predictable flow – is one that I totally bought, even if I bickered with Taleb in the margins along the way.
The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan is one of those books whose big idea – that large-scale modern food production does more bad than good – is one that I totally disagreed with, even though I enjoyed nearly every page of the book.
Nod to Taleb, since his ideas, unlike Pollan’s, are unlikely to lead to global starvation, not to mention federal regulations telling me to eat my locally-grown organic spinach.
Best Book of the Year
And the winner of the Johnny-Bingo Award goes to…none of the above! Scanning over my book log for the year, I keep coming back to Freedomland, a 1998 novel by Richard Price.
Price is one of those writers whose every sentence is so damned good, you give up any hopes of writing a novel yourself. It’s not just the quality of the prose though; underneath that graceful prose is knowledge born of hard-earned reporting. But it’s not just knowledge, gracefully presented. There is wisdom in Price’s work.
The folks who give out Nobel Literature prizes claim American novelists are insular. Freedomland is proof they are wrong.
Congratulations to Mr. Price, who is not only the 2009 Johnny-Bingo Award winner, but the most underrated American novelist working today.
(Go here for last year’s awards)
The award is named for the first book I remember calling my favorite – something about two boys, a dog, and a bank robber. Or maybe it was two bank robbers, a boy and a dog. Or maybe two dogs…anyway, the point is that I am the judge, jury and executioner for this, the last major literary prize handed out this year.
Okay, maybe it’s not such a major prize. But given the way the other literary prizes have been operating this year, I think I have a chance to pass them in prestige.
Take the Nobel Prize in Literature (please). This year the Nobel folks took a lot of heat for their selection of President Barack Obama for the Peace Prize. But that head-scratcher obscured the fact that the Nobel Prize in Literature went to Herta Muller, a Romanian writer so obscure that the response even in Romania seemed to be “Yay!!! Um…who?”
The Nobel Lit folks have made it clear that they despise American literature and are determined to give Nobels out to every obscure novelist on earth before the likes of Cormac McCarthy, Philip Roth, or Joyce Carol Oates grace their stage. The National Book Award on the other hand is, you know, the National book award. For Americans. It states quite clearly in their bylaws that the nominees be American.
Well, here are the nominees for this year’s National Book Award in fiction:
- Colum McCann, an Irishman born in Dublin, currently residing in New York.
- Aleksandar Hemon, a Bosnian who moved to America in 1992.
- Marcel Theroux, son of the American writer Paul Theroux, who was born in Uganda and now lives in London.
- Daniyal Mueenuddin, who grew up in Pakistan and Wisconsin, lives in the southern Punjab, and is currently spending a year in London.
- Jayne Anne Phillips, born in West Virginia and now living in New Jersey.
Can I get a “USA! USA!” chant?
The J-B Rules
I’m not as sophisticated as those other folks. I don’t read obscure Romanian novelists, I’ve never heard of Daniyal Mueenuddin, and am frequently seen with a paperbook thriller in my hand. I’m also ashamed to admit that most of the books I read are written by (gasp!) Americans – and the worst kind of Americans, the ones that are born here, live here, and write about here. Insular bastards. (Maybe I should call these the Johnny-Jingo Awards. The Bonny-Jingo Awards?)
The Johnny-Bingo Award(s) have one judge – me – and one rule: all eligible books must have been finished by me in 2009. As I said last year, it could’ve been written by a blind Greek poet in the 8th century BC or be an unpublished galley hacked from an MFA candidate’s MacBook in a Brooklyn cafe. As long as I read the final paragraph before the calendar turns, it could be a winner.
Let’s look at our finalists:
Best New Crime Novelist
Famed restaurant journalist Peter Romeo was surprised – maybe even embarrassed - to hear I had never read Dennis Lehane or George Pelecanos and pressed copies of their novels on me. I also read the newcomers Josh Bazell and Stieg Larson and tried out Stuart Woods for the first time. The first three get the coveted Keatang recommendations but we can only have one winner in the category and it is…Dennis Lehane! (please hold your applause till all the winners have been announced)
It was a tough race and I suspect that Mr. Pelecanos and I will be spending a lot more time together. But if you like your crime novel heroes hard-boiled, wise-crackin’, and existentially dark, Lehane is your guy. Be prepared though – the capacity for evil in his bad guys, not to mention his good guys, will make you weep for humanity.
Best History Book about Post-War America
I read a lot of history but they tend to cover that short period between 500 B.C. and 1945. I’m less interested, for reasons I can’t defend, in books about the post-war period. But this year I took two plunges into the 60’s (An Unfinished Life: John Kennedy 1917-1963 and Pillar of Fire: America in the King Years 1963-1965) and one into the 00’s (Horse Soldiers: The Extraordinary Story of a Band of Soldiers Who Rode to Victory in Afghanistan).
One thing about history books about the 1960’s…there is a lot of sex! JFK makes Tiger Woods look like the Dali Lama. And MLK – well, this is a worshipful book about the Reverend but there are transcripts from his hotel room romps that made me blush. You don’t see this in books about the Founders. Ben Franklin and Alexander Hamilton both got around but were fortunate enough to do so before tape recording and the FBI.
Pillar of Fire is the greater book of the three and destined for a long shelf life. But I too often got lost in the huge cast of characters and couldn’t find my way out. The book assumes knowledge of racial politics of the period that I don’t have. Horse Soldiers is a terrific story and I heartily recommend it – especially if like me you are sick and tired of the media’s treatment of America’s soldiers as either villains or victims. This is a story of true American heroes. But the writing is a little bit hokey.
Unfinished Life gets the nod. Biographer Robert Dallek doesn’t shy away from the glamorous (and sordid) stories about the Kennedys, but at its heart it’s a study of the Cold War at its peak, and the important role JFK played in it.
Best Book in an Unclassifiable Category
Lev Grossman’s The Magicians is Harry Potter meets Less Than Zero meets The Narnia Chronicles. If that sounds like something you might like, you will.
Christopher Moore’s Fool is King Lear with "gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity, as well as non-traditional grammar, spit infinitives, and the odd wank". If that sounds like something you might like, you will.
I enjoyed Fool, but the nod here goes to The Magicians.
Best Big Ideas Book
The Black Swan by Nassim Taleb is one of those books whose big idea – that human history is shaped more by huge unforeseen events rather than occurring in a predictable flow – is one that I totally bought, even if I bickered with Taleb in the margins along the way.
The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan is one of those books whose big idea – that large-scale modern food production does more bad than good – is one that I totally disagreed with, even though I enjoyed nearly every page of the book.
Nod to Taleb, since his ideas, unlike Pollan’s, are unlikely to lead to global starvation, not to mention federal regulations telling me to eat my locally-grown organic spinach.
Best Book of the Year
And the winner of the Johnny-Bingo Award goes to…none of the above! Scanning over my book log for the year, I keep coming back to Freedomland, a 1998 novel by Richard Price.
Price is one of those writers whose every sentence is so damned good, you give up any hopes of writing a novel yourself. It’s not just the quality of the prose though; underneath that graceful prose is knowledge born of hard-earned reporting. But it’s not just knowledge, gracefully presented. There is wisdom in Price’s work.
The folks who give out Nobel Literature prizes claim American novelists are insular. Freedomland is proof they are wrong.
Congratulations to Mr. Price, who is not only the 2009 Johnny-Bingo Award winner, but the most underrated American novelist working today.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Liars & Tigers & Bears
Moments ago, I walked by the desk of a colleague, Casey Clark. Casey is a remarkable man – a video golf instructor, a juggler of home repair tools and the organizer of the only NFL Elimination Pool that provides email pool updates peppered with Shakespearean quotes.
Casey and I occasionally talk golf – he’s a real golfer and I’m a hacker – and as is my wont I popped into his office, picked up his putter, and began rolling putts across the carpet.
“Case,” I said, “We haven’t talked about Tiger yet. Do we have anything to add to this subject that hasn’t already been covered?”
“You know,” he said, leaning back, “I’ve been thinking of Kathy Whitworth.”
I stopped mid-putt. Casey is a man of great erudition – the man uses quotes from Macbeth to tweak someone who picked the Steelers in an Elimination Pool for crying loud – so I was surprised he brought up a woman I presumed was one of Tiger’s Back Nine.
“Is that the one from California?” I asked.
“No, no, no. Kathy Whitworth has the record for Tour victories, with 88. I assume she had reconciled herself to the fact that her record would fall to Tiger, but now? Who knows? Maybe the old girl will keep her record.”
Among other things, Mr. Clark is the former editor of Golf for Women magazine, so he knew whereof he spoke. Kathy Whitworth has the record for tour victories, albeit of the LPGA variety. Sam Snead is first on the men’s list with 82. Jack Nicklaus has 73 and Tiger has 71.
Of course, the record most golf fans know about is 18 – the number of majors won by Jack Nicklaus, the Golden Bear. Can Tiger catch Kathy, Jack, and Sam?
I’m not as classy as Casey, so I mused that Tiger has just, cold turkey, given up the two things that had seemingly taken up nearly all his waking hours and provided most of his joy: golf (voluntarily) and sex (involuntarily). I’m not sure if this will save his marriage, but it definitely won’t help his chances of catching the Golden Bear. Let’s go to the stats.
Numbers Game
This is Freetime, and when Freetime talks sports, it talks numbers. And here are some numbers.
Tiger just completed his age 34-season with 14 majors. Jack, at the same age, had 12.
But Jack had a big year at age 35, winning the Masters and the PGA in 1975. After that, age seems to have caught up and the wins came much more slowly. Over the next four years, his age 36-39 years, he won only one major, the 1978 British Open. He then had a huge 1980, his age 40-season, winning the U.S. Open and the PGA. It appeared he would never win another major until his stunning Masters win in 1986, at age 46. 18 was the new standard.
As for Tiger, he is coming off his first Major-less year since his age 29-season. He is still, clearly, the best player in golf, and had a remarkable season coming off knee surgery. But to be shut out in your age 34 season while chasing Jack is costly. If he is shut out again in 2010 - either due to self-imposed exile, distracted play, or the sheer difficulty of winning Majors - he and Jack will be tied at 14 at age 35. And who knows what the future will hold?
It should be noted that winning Majors after age 35 has proven very difficult. Tom Watson won 8 Majors, including 5 from 1980 to 1983 - but at age 33 he was done. Arnold Palmer, after a similarly torrid run from 1960-63, won the Masters at age 34 and never won again.
Tiger has lost a lot since Thanksgiving. His reputation, some sponsorship dollars, and possibly his marriage. What we won’t know for several years is whether or not he lost the chance to catch the Golden Bear, and thus the opportunity to be known as the Greatest Golfer Ever.
Or as Casey said, quoting the Bard, "Oh judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts and men have lost their reason!"
Casey and I occasionally talk golf – he’s a real golfer and I’m a hacker – and as is my wont I popped into his office, picked up his putter, and began rolling putts across the carpet.
“Case,” I said, “We haven’t talked about Tiger yet. Do we have anything to add to this subject that hasn’t already been covered?”
“You know,” he said, leaning back, “I’ve been thinking of Kathy Whitworth.”
I stopped mid-putt. Casey is a man of great erudition – the man uses quotes from Macbeth to tweak someone who picked the Steelers in an Elimination Pool for crying loud – so I was surprised he brought up a woman I presumed was one of Tiger’s Back Nine.
“Is that the one from California?” I asked.
“No, no, no. Kathy Whitworth has the record for Tour victories, with 88. I assume she had reconciled herself to the fact that her record would fall to Tiger, but now? Who knows? Maybe the old girl will keep her record.”
Among other things, Mr. Clark is the former editor of Golf for Women magazine, so he knew whereof he spoke. Kathy Whitworth has the record for tour victories, albeit of the LPGA variety. Sam Snead is first on the men’s list with 82. Jack Nicklaus has 73 and Tiger has 71.
Of course, the record most golf fans know about is 18 – the number of majors won by Jack Nicklaus, the Golden Bear. Can Tiger catch Kathy, Jack, and Sam?
I’m not as classy as Casey, so I mused that Tiger has just, cold turkey, given up the two things that had seemingly taken up nearly all his waking hours and provided most of his joy: golf (voluntarily) and sex (involuntarily). I’m not sure if this will save his marriage, but it definitely won’t help his chances of catching the Golden Bear. Let’s go to the stats.
Numbers Game
This is Freetime, and when Freetime talks sports, it talks numbers. And here are some numbers.
Tiger just completed his age 34-season with 14 majors. Jack, at the same age, had 12.
But Jack had a big year at age 35, winning the Masters and the PGA in 1975. After that, age seems to have caught up and the wins came much more slowly. Over the next four years, his age 36-39 years, he won only one major, the 1978 British Open. He then had a huge 1980, his age 40-season, winning the U.S. Open and the PGA. It appeared he would never win another major until his stunning Masters win in 1986, at age 46. 18 was the new standard.
As for Tiger, he is coming off his first Major-less year since his age 29-season. He is still, clearly, the best player in golf, and had a remarkable season coming off knee surgery. But to be shut out in your age 34 season while chasing Jack is costly. If he is shut out again in 2010 - either due to self-imposed exile, distracted play, or the sheer difficulty of winning Majors - he and Jack will be tied at 14 at age 35. And who knows what the future will hold?
It should be noted that winning Majors after age 35 has proven very difficult. Tom Watson won 8 Majors, including 5 from 1980 to 1983 - but at age 33 he was done. Arnold Palmer, after a similarly torrid run from 1960-63, won the Masters at age 34 and never won again.
Tiger has lost a lot since Thanksgiving. His reputation, some sponsorship dollars, and possibly his marriage. What we won’t know for several years is whether or not he lost the chance to catch the Golden Bear, and thus the opportunity to be known as the Greatest Golfer Ever.
Or as Casey said, quoting the Bard, "Oh judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts and men have lost their reason!"
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Bill Blinks at Peyton's Place
Most commentators are drawing the wrong lesson from Bill Belichick’s decision to go for it on 4th and 1 against the Colts. They think it was about Belichick. In fact, it was all about Peyton Manning.
As I argued last year, Manning-Brady is the greatest individual rivalry in team sports history. At first, it followed the usual Stats Monster vs. Mr. Clutch debate; Manning put up the monster statistics and Brady won the Super Bowls with game-winning drives. In this regard, it was similar to the other great individual rivalries: Wilt vs. Russell, Marino vs. Montana, ARod vs. Jeter**.
* This is where Babe Ruth and Wayne Gretzky stand alone. They were Stats Monsters of the highest order and ran out of fingers to put rings on.
Then two things happened. One, Manning won a title. That’s not unusual. Critics of great athletes in team sports who claim certain guys lack the magical something required to win a championship are often proven wrong (see: Rodriguez, Alex, 2009). But then something truly unusual happened: Tom Brady became a Stats Monster in 2007, putting up single-season numbers that rivaled Manning’s 2004 season and Dan Marino’s 1984 season. This simply doesn’t happen.
Peyton Manning, meanwhile, has continued his morphing from mere Stats Monster to the most dangerous player in football, a guy who is on that rarified level of Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods – guys who aren’t simply better, smarter, and more prepared than everyone else – but the guy who has all of those things AND has the desire and the coolness to rip your heart out and then toss it carelessly aside.
The Sports Guy, a Brady acolyte who used to belong firmly to the “Manning is a mere Stats Monster” camp acknowledged this in his piece before Monday night’s game.
And Bill Belichick acknowledged it when he went for it on 4th down. The Colts may not have a running game. The Colts may have Reggie Wayne and a bunch of rookies at wide receiver. The Colts may have had Dallas Clark successfully limited by the Patriots’ linebacking corps.
But the Colts have Peyton Manning. And Bill Belichick did not want the ball in his hands under any circumstances.
Only a few years ago, many people still gave Brady the nod as the best QB in football, or at least tied with Manning. But now, most people seem to think of them as 1 and 1A. Indeed, a poll of Hall of Fame quarterbacks, announced during the broadcast, showed that they picked Manning over Brad by 13.5 to 2.5 (with one of Brady’s supporters being Terry Bradshaw, an above-average but not great quarterback who won 4 Super Bowls).
The only question now for Manning is this: will he go down as the greatest of all time?
As I argued last year, Manning-Brady is the greatest individual rivalry in team sports history. At first, it followed the usual Stats Monster vs. Mr. Clutch debate; Manning put up the monster statistics and Brady won the Super Bowls with game-winning drives. In this regard, it was similar to the other great individual rivalries: Wilt vs. Russell, Marino vs. Montana, ARod vs. Jeter**.
* This is where Babe Ruth and Wayne Gretzky stand alone. They were Stats Monsters of the highest order and ran out of fingers to put rings on.
Then two things happened. One, Manning won a title. That’s not unusual. Critics of great athletes in team sports who claim certain guys lack the magical something required to win a championship are often proven wrong (see: Rodriguez, Alex, 2009). But then something truly unusual happened: Tom Brady became a Stats Monster in 2007, putting up single-season numbers that rivaled Manning’s 2004 season and Dan Marino’s 1984 season. This simply doesn’t happen.
Peyton Manning, meanwhile, has continued his morphing from mere Stats Monster to the most dangerous player in football, a guy who is on that rarified level of Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods – guys who aren’t simply better, smarter, and more prepared than everyone else – but the guy who has all of those things AND has the desire and the coolness to rip your heart out and then toss it carelessly aside.
The Sports Guy, a Brady acolyte who used to belong firmly to the “Manning is a mere Stats Monster” camp acknowledged this in his piece before Monday night’s game.
And Bill Belichick acknowledged it when he went for it on 4th down. The Colts may not have a running game. The Colts may have Reggie Wayne and a bunch of rookies at wide receiver. The Colts may have had Dallas Clark successfully limited by the Patriots’ linebacking corps.
But the Colts have Peyton Manning. And Bill Belichick did not want the ball in his hands under any circumstances.
Only a few years ago, many people still gave Brady the nod as the best QB in football, or at least tied with Manning. But now, most people seem to think of them as 1 and 1A. Indeed, a poll of Hall of Fame quarterbacks, announced during the broadcast, showed that they picked Manning over Brad by 13.5 to 2.5 (with one of Brady’s supporters being Terry Bradshaw, an above-average but not great quarterback who won 4 Super Bowls).
The only question now for Manning is this: will he go down as the greatest of all time?
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Iron Clipper
Which of the following Yankee Dynasties was the greatest ever?
The answer is: None of the Above. At least according to David Schoenfield, who ranked all 27 Yankee champions on ESPN’s Page 2 this week.
Extrapolating a bit from the Page 2 list, the greatest Yankee dynasty was one that, quite frankly, I didn’t know existed: the Gehrig/DiMaggio Yankees, which won 4 consecutive World Series from 1936 to 1939.
(Yeah, it’s questionable including 1939, since Gehrig gave his famous “luckiest man on the face of the earth” speech on April 30th after playing in only 8 games. But I’m going to count it since his spirit was on that team. If you disagree, write your own damn blog.)
Anyway, like most people I associate Gehrig with Ruth, and think of Joltin’ Joe as sort of being on his own. It surprised me to learn that the Iron Horse and the Yankee Clipper were teammates for nearly four seasons, from 1936 to 1939, and the Yankees won the World Series in every one of those years. And it further surprised me to see Page 2 rank those 4 teams as being 4 of the 8 greatest Yankee champs ever – mixed in with the ‘27 (#2), 98’ (#3), ’53 (#6), and ‘32 (#7).
As I mentioned in my Jeter piece a few weeks back, I think Gehrig is the most underrated of the Yankee greats, and this information only strengthens that opinion. He won 3 titles with Ruth and 3 titles with DiMaggio (not counting 39). He had 13 monster seasons in a row. Mix in the fact that he was born, raised, educated, played and died in New York City and I think it’s a shame that he is not accorded quite the status of Ruth, DiMaggio, Mantle and Jeter.
As for me, the fact that I, as a card-carrying Yankee hater, can write a piece like this only moments after another title, just shows how mature I’ve become in my old age. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to re-watch the entire 2000 World Series on DVD, and try to figure out how my beloved Mets lost to the crappiest Yankee champ ever.
+ The Ruth/Gehrig Yankees
+ The Joe DiMaggio Yankees
+ The Mantle/Berra Yankees
+ The Reggie/Billy Yankees
+ The Jeter/Mariano Yankees
The answer is: None of the Above. At least according to David Schoenfield, who ranked all 27 Yankee champions on ESPN’s Page 2 this week.
Extrapolating a bit from the Page 2 list, the greatest Yankee dynasty was one that, quite frankly, I didn’t know existed: the Gehrig/DiMaggio Yankees, which won 4 consecutive World Series from 1936 to 1939.
(Yeah, it’s questionable including 1939, since Gehrig gave his famous “luckiest man on the face of the earth” speech on April 30th after playing in only 8 games. But I’m going to count it since his spirit was on that team. If you disagree, write your own damn blog.)
Anyway, like most people I associate Gehrig with Ruth, and think of Joltin’ Joe as sort of being on his own. It surprised me to learn that the Iron Horse and the Yankee Clipper were teammates for nearly four seasons, from 1936 to 1939, and the Yankees won the World Series in every one of those years. And it further surprised me to see Page 2 rank those 4 teams as being 4 of the 8 greatest Yankee champs ever – mixed in with the ‘27 (#2), 98’ (#3), ’53 (#6), and ‘32 (#7).
As I mentioned in my Jeter piece a few weeks back, I think Gehrig is the most underrated of the Yankee greats, and this information only strengthens that opinion. He won 3 titles with Ruth and 3 titles with DiMaggio (not counting 39). He had 13 monster seasons in a row. Mix in the fact that he was born, raised, educated, played and died in New York City and I think it’s a shame that he is not accorded quite the status of Ruth, DiMaggio, Mantle and Jeter.
As for me, the fact that I, as a card-carrying Yankee hater, can write a piece like this only moments after another title, just shows how mature I’ve become in my old age. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to re-watch the entire 2000 World Series on DVD, and try to figure out how my beloved Mets lost to the crappiest Yankee champ ever.
Update: The New York Times on Sunday wrote a similar piece as ESPN, ranking all 27 champions. And while they didn't agree on every point, there was definitely some cross-over, with the 1939 team ranked 2nd, and the other Gehrig/DiMaggio teams in the Top 9. Who knew?
Friday, November 6, 2009
Who Won Tuesday?
Political commentators– whether they are conservative or liberal; thoughtful or angry; intellectually honest or hopelessly partisan; penetratingly insightful or galactically stupid – and whether or not they ply their trade in television, print, or radio - have one thing in common. They analyze election results in terms of which political party won the day.
The read on Tuesday, generally, was that Republicans won the day. Gubernatorial victories in New Jersey and Virginia, two states that voted decisively for Barack Obama in 2008, gave the GOP reason to celebrate. Democrats took what cheer they could from a Democratic victory in New York’s 23rd Congressional district, in which one of their own defeated a Conservative party candidate that was endorsed and supported by such GOP heavyweights as Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin.
But the real winners on Tuesday were the largest and quietest group of American voters. There will be no victory parties, no spinning to the press, no acceptance speeches and no oaths of office – but the winners on Tuesday were your friendly neighborhood moderates.
The Misunderstood Moderate
There are several problems with the way moderates are characterized by the political press.
First, we are not the same as Independents. Many moderates belong to political parties, but represent the more moderate wing of that party. Most Northeast Republicans, for example, are moderates, as are many Southeast Democrats.
Second, we do not hold moderate views on every subject. We tend to be moderate on some subjects such as abortion and interrogation techniques for suspected terrorists. But we can often be well to the left or the right of the major parties on other issues. For example, many Northeast Republicans favor gun control, while most Democrats with national ambitions make sure to get their picture taken shooting ducks.
And third, we care about politics. The independent voter, especially those that only vote during Presidential election years, tend to be apathetic about politics, and their votes tend to be more personality-driven than issue-driven. But the true moderate cares deeply about politics, is highly informed, and votes in off years…he just doesn’t vote for the same party all the time. National and local issues and even broader strategic goals play a part in which lever gets pulled.
Moderates Win! Moderates Win! The-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e Moderates Win!
I won’t go into detail on what happened Tuesday – there is plenty of good analysis in the mainstream media for that. But the bottom line – GOP victories in blue states and the hard right getting a bloody nose in upstate New York – were both good things for moderates, both cautionary tales to the partisan leaders of both parties that the center will hold. To Pelosi and Rush, we say a pox on both your houses.
Now if we can just do something about gerrymandering…
The read on Tuesday, generally, was that Republicans won the day. Gubernatorial victories in New Jersey and Virginia, two states that voted decisively for Barack Obama in 2008, gave the GOP reason to celebrate. Democrats took what cheer they could from a Democratic victory in New York’s 23rd Congressional district, in which one of their own defeated a Conservative party candidate that was endorsed and supported by such GOP heavyweights as Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin.
But the real winners on Tuesday were the largest and quietest group of American voters. There will be no victory parties, no spinning to the press, no acceptance speeches and no oaths of office – but the winners on Tuesday were your friendly neighborhood moderates.
The Misunderstood Moderate
There are several problems with the way moderates are characterized by the political press.
First, we are not the same as Independents. Many moderates belong to political parties, but represent the more moderate wing of that party. Most Northeast Republicans, for example, are moderates, as are many Southeast Democrats.
Second, we do not hold moderate views on every subject. We tend to be moderate on some subjects such as abortion and interrogation techniques for suspected terrorists. But we can often be well to the left or the right of the major parties on other issues. For example, many Northeast Republicans favor gun control, while most Democrats with national ambitions make sure to get their picture taken shooting ducks.
And third, we care about politics. The independent voter, especially those that only vote during Presidential election years, tend to be apathetic about politics, and their votes tend to be more personality-driven than issue-driven. But the true moderate cares deeply about politics, is highly informed, and votes in off years…he just doesn’t vote for the same party all the time. National and local issues and even broader strategic goals play a part in which lever gets pulled.
Moderates Win! Moderates Win! The-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e Moderates Win!
I won’t go into detail on what happened Tuesday – there is plenty of good analysis in the mainstream media for that. But the bottom line – GOP victories in blue states and the hard right getting a bloody nose in upstate New York – were both good things for moderates, both cautionary tales to the partisan leaders of both parties that the center will hold. To Pelosi and Rush, we say a pox on both your houses.
Now if we can just do something about gerrymandering…
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Vote for Pedro
A Surprisingly Short Baseball Post with only One Goofy Statistic
Many people believe that Sandy Koufax's run from 1963-1966 was the greatest in baseball's history. They are wrong.
As spectacular as he was (and I'm not saying he wasn't), Koufax played in an era when spectacular pitching performances were commonplace. He posted ERAs under 2.00 3 times, but from 1962 to 1972 the league leader in ERA was under 2.00 12 times, capped by Bob Gibson's record-setting 1.12. In addition to playing in a pitching-friendly era, Koufax played in a pitching-friendly park, Dodger Stadium.
On the other hand, let's look at the fellow starting for the Phillies tonight, and his run from 1997-2003. Pedro Martinez won 5 ERA titles, the same as Koufax, and posted some ridiculously low ERAs, including twice below 2.00. He didn't win as many games, but that was a product of his era, not his pitching. And he had a ridiculously high winning percentage, over .700 every year.
But here's the thing: he played in the homer-happy millenial era. He faced a DH, he faced guys juiced on steroids, he played in that dinky park in Boston.
During this 6-year period, the six highest single-season HR totals in the history of the game were recorded.
There's a statistic called Adjusted ERA+ that looks at a pitcher's ERA, and adjusts it for the league average and the parks he pitches in. By this measure, Pedro had 5 of the greatest 20 seasons since the First World War, including #1 all time, his 2000 season. Koufax's best season, 1966, is good for 34th best.
To put it in golf terms, Pedro shot a 63 playing Bethpage Black in U.S. Open conditions, while Koufax shot a 62 at the Hartford Open.
I've always been somewhat mystified by the awe people have for Sandy Koufax. Not only was he not quite as special during that 5-year period as people think, but that 5-year period represents nearly his entire career. He was in the majors for 8 mediocre seasons before that, during which he went 54-53 with an ERA over 4.
Pedro not only exceeds that period, he bookended with four strong seasons in Montreal, and a decent if injury-marred period with the Mets. And if the Phillies win the World Series, he'll be the first pitcher in history to win a Cy Young and a World Series in both leagues.
Maybe then he'll receive the awe deserves.
I've always been somewhat mystified by the awe people have for Sandy Koufax. Not only was he not quite as special during that 5-year period as people think, but that 5-year period represents nearly his entire career. He was in the majors for 8 mediocre seasons before that, during which he went 54-53 with an ERA over 4.
Pedro not only exceeds that period, he bookended with four strong seasons in Montreal, and a decent if injury-marred period with the Mets. And if the Phillies win the World Series, he'll be the first pitcher in history to win a Cy Young and a World Series in both leagues.
Maybe then he'll receive the awe deserves.
Bonus Fun Facts: If you don't feel like clicking the link above, I'll share with you some highlights. Besides Pedro, the other stud on the list is Walter Johnson with 4 seasons in the Top 30. Greg Maddux has the #2 and #3 seasons, but doesn't appear again. Kevin Brown made a surprise appearance. And in case you needed any more reasons to watch this kid, Zach Greinke cracked the Top 20 with his 09 season. This is all based on ignoring the pre-WWI seasons.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Winter Classic
The Yankees equipment manager, Rob Cucuzza, is getting ready for the playoffs. He’s gathering up dozens of pairs of polypropylene* thermal underwear, cold weather batting gloves made with Aegis Micro Shield technologies, officially licensed New York Yankees earmuffs, and fur-lined parkas for the coaching staffs.*The polypropylene material used in some cold weather gear was developed by a Nobel Prize winner, back when Nobel Prize winners had to, you know, do something in order to win
Mr. Cucuzza has a collection of high-tech cold weather gear that would make Ernest Shackleton weep with envy. And he’s gonna need it because it’s frickin’ cold in New York. As Game 1 of the ALCS starts tonight, the temperature is forecast for 42 degrees, lower with the wind chill. And the baseball playoffs are still scheduled to go another two and a half weeks.
It wasn’t always this way. Babe Ruth and the 1927 Yankees won the World Series on October 8th. Mickey Mantle celebrated the 1956 title on October 10th, and that series went the distance. In 1978, Reggie Jackson had earned his Mr. October moniker by the 17th, and that included an ALCS. Heck, even Derek Jeter and the 1996 Yanks - the first Yankee team to win a championship in the Wild Card era - had wrapped things up by October 26th.
This year, the World Series won’t even start until October 28th. Even if it’s a sweep, it’s guaranteed to go until November. If it goes the distance, Game 7 will be on November 5th. If the Yankees win, they’ll have to combine the Canyon of Heroes parade with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. (They'll probably let Jeter ride in Santa's sleigh, and Yankee fans will truly believe he was more clutch than St. Nick)
Luckily, I’m not the kind of guy who just sits around and complains about the old days. I bring solutions. And I know how to fix baseball.
Cold Teams
But first, a little more complaining, because cold weather is only part of baseball’s problem. The other, more insidious problem, is that crappy teams keep winning the World Series. Think I’m kidding? Let’s look at recent history.
2006 Cardinals - LaRussa's team scratched out 83 wins during the regular season, had the lowest winning % of all 8 playoff teams, and a losing record in August and September. But they got hot for a couple of weeks and were crowned World Champion.
2004 Red Sox - a very good team, but not good enough to win the AL East. In 2004 they became the 4th Wild Card team in 7 years to win the Series.
2003 Marlins - this time of year, all the "experts", from Steve Phillips to Mike Francesa to the nameless newspaper guys, give their "predictions" about who will win the World Series. The 03 Marlins are a constant reminder as to why these predictions are useless, as everyone had them rated 8 out of 8 of playoff contenders that year.
2000 Yankees - the worst regular season team of the Torre era. They won 87 games, lowest of all the playoff teams, and fewer than every Yankee team since. But the AL East wasn’t very good that year, and 87 wins was good enough for a divisional title. Most years, this team wouldn't have made the playoffs.
Fixing Baseball
How, you are wondering, will I kill both birds with one stone, hit both balls with one bat, field both grounders with one glove? Easy - end the regular season on the last Sunday of September, and add another Wild Card team. Here are the Rules of the FreeTime Playoff system:
- No matter what, the season ends on the last Sunday in September. If the last Sunday is September 25, that is when the season ends. If the last Sunday is September 30, that is when the season ends. No nonsense like this year when regular season games were being played on October 4.
- To accommodate rule 1, if necessary the season will start in late March, add more day/night doubleheaders, and/or take fewer days off.
- All Northern teams will open up on the road. Send the Phillies and Mets down to Miami and Atlanta for the first week of the season.
- Now, comes the radical part: add a Wild Card team and a round of playoffs to each league.
- The regular season ends on the last Sunday in September; immediately following the two Wild Cards in each league will play a Mon-Wed 3-game series.
- The winner of that series - road-weary and pitching-depleted - will immediately fly to the home city of the team with the best record in the league to start the Divisional Series on Thursday.
- At this point, we essentially resume the same schedule we have now. But because our regular season has ended in September, we have guaranteed the playoffs will not extend into November.
- An extra Wild Card team keeps more cities interested in baseball late.
- However, we have made it MUCH harder for a Wild Card to advance. The punishing schedule should eliminate most mediocre Wild Cards going all the way.
- We have restored something resembling the old Pennant Race. The reward for League Best Record - getting to play a tired, depleted Wild Card team - has real value, rewards season long success, and makes the likelihood of the worthiest team winning higher.
- The owners and television - Gods that must be given tribute - get their due. More playoff games, a greater likelihood of great teams advancing, and more meaningful September games for more teams.
- The World Series is finished in October - as God and Kenesaw Mountain Landis intended.
And ignore everyone who complains about the power of television. Television wants the most fans possible to see the games - a desire that dovetails with the needs of the most fans, no? Costas might like afternoon playoff games, but the rest of us have to go to work.
And as for the Yankees and Angels, bundle up. It's cold out there.
Note: This is part of the Volunteer Commissioner series, in which I graciously fix problems in various sports. The others posts in the series are:
You're welcome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
