You’re the Best, Eck
SATURDAY, JULY 31, 2004 11:47 PM
I’m a bit of a cynic. I often disdain pieces about sport that wax rhapsodic about the innocence and joy of “the game” and the purity of competition and such. The problem always seems to be that the nostalgia is oversimplified and the import of the events is overestimated, as if who wins the World Series, the Super Bowl, the Stanley Cup, or the inelegantly named NBA Finals matter at all in the grand scheme of things. As if being the MVP of anything or being able to hit the farthest, run the fastest, jump the highest, be the strongest, land the cleanest, or twist the prettiest affects anything in the world or deserves our awe. Baseball is particularly at risk for such memorializing, what with childhoods playing stickball in the street, having a catch with dad, and a perfect summer day at the ballpark. I don’t rail against these things, I just read the pieces, note that some one isn’t paying quite enough attention to all the bad things in the world, and then I move on. The reality is that we should all be at least a little mad that we live in such a screwed up world and keep sports in perspective.

But every once in awhile, I get sucked in. I let the warm fuzzies of it all get to me. The Olympics are often pretty good at getting me in a schmaltzy mood, although not the often melodramatic human interest pieces about athletes overcoming a dead parent or an impoverished childhood or a supposedly career-ending injury. That just makes me want to trim the network’s budget for The Games. I’d rather see more competition than watch a two and a half minute retrospective of illogical shadowy interviews and unnecessarily hazy images. The underdogs, the honest joy of actually being an Olympian, these are moments that I appreciate—enough to even ignore the clashes between the national teams’ outfitters and the individual athletes’ sponsors.

Last weekend’s Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony was another one of those times when I let the feeling take over. I have a funny relationship with baseball. I like it, though I don't really know why. Soccer is my absolute favorite sport, but baseball has burrowed itself inside of me and I’ve been unable to get it out. I started watching baseball, and other sports (well, football and basketball, college and pro), around 1987, 1988. I was all over the hometown Oakland Athletics. I was unusually lucky to catch them right at the start of their run of three straight World Series appearances and four ALCS appearances in five years.

Baseball was about the Bash Brothers, Rickey Henderson and Dave Henderson who weren’t brothers, 20 plus game winner Stew, Eck, Carney Lansford, wise skipper Tony La Russa (and other coaches like Dave McKay at first base and Dave Duncan guiding the pitchers), and people who I thought were amazing as a kid, but in adulthood I realized weren’t stars outside of Oakland—Mike Gallego, Lance Blankenship, Rick Honeycutt, Walt Weiss, and Storm Davis. I remember Jose Canseco’s 40-40 season, Rickey Henderson breaking Lou Brock’s career stolen base record and stopping the game to hoist the base triumphantly in the air, Mark McGwire being the first guy to hit thirty home runs in his first four seasons. I had a poster of McGwire in my room along with an artist’s rendering of him that I pulled out of a magazine (okay, it was a magazine I got at the ballpark that was all about the A’s). Next to my door was a cut out from that same magazine of Dennis Eckersley just about to release the ball with the words “Eckstra Special” emblazoned across it in big bold letters.

Combine all this with my love of history—which I think heavily influences my Olympics-love too—and you have a person who adores Casey Stengel and has read multiple Stengel biographies, who thinks that even though all those infinite baseball stats are stupid they’re also really interesting, who really wants to go visit Cooperstown, who was sad when she visited St. Louis and couldn’t take in a Cardinals game—the team Mr. Sassy grew up adoring in the 80s, who was elated when the Baseball As America was at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County when I lived down there and kind of wants to go see it again when it hits St. Louis. I buy into Field of Dreams and its sourcebook Shoeless Joe, even though I know it’s silly. I’m glad The Pride of the Yankees is around. I’ll watch Major League when it comes on TV.

Given all the preceding nonsense and you’ll understand why I stayed up late last Sunday night to catch the replay of the Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony on ESPN Classic. By the by, I’m glad there’s a channel that shows the 1946 World Series sometimes. That’s awesome. Anyway, Dennis Eckersley, one of my childhood heroes, was inducted. Along with Paul Molitor, who, to be honest, was one of those guys who I had always heard of but didn’t know much more than he was kinda good looking and a good player. Good for him. At any rate, Eck made me and a lot of other fans proud. Seeing all those fans in kelly green and gold was wonderful.

I won’t comment on the apparent requirement of the near/early post-retirement new young wife thing, but beyond that, Molitor and Eckersley seemed so different. Molitor, a polished, comfortable public speaker in an impeccably put together dark suit; Eck, reading and sounding like it, going too fast in parts, a little disheveled in a tan blazer, but that just made me cheer him on more. I appreciated his gratefulness and his modesty. I was happy that he got in to the Hall, pleased he did it on the first ballot, and excited that the world, okay, the baseball world, was cheering someone I had growing up cheering. I felt so damn good about it and I liked that even if it meant I went to work tired Monday morning. What other choice did I have? After all, Eck’s the best.

Finally Fahrenheit
WEDNESDAY, JULY 21, 2004 9:19 PM
This past weekend I finally saw Fahrenheit 9/11 this weekend. I'm actually glad I read Christopher Hitchens' Unfairenheit 9/11 first. I was expecting to be disappointed, but instead I was pleasantly surprised. There was a fair amount of thinly drawn guilt by association that Hitchens and other critics have railed about, but there are definitely legitimate questions and issues the movie brings up. Regardless of those issues, the most powerful parts were the scenes in Iraq, from showing experiences of Iraqis, the words and experiences of the troops, and the story of the woman whose son was in Iraq. A lot of it was very intense. If the news was like that everyday, people might not be as comfortable or as complacent as they are or were about the war. Eventually, of course, people would be desensitized to the violence, so that wouldn't really be the best thing. But if people aren't confronted with the reality of war, it's so much easier to endorse it and then to ignore it. Everyone should see the film for at least that part of it.

I Like Going to Places and Seeing Things
TUESDAY, JULY 20, 2004 10:18 PM
I've been awfully busy, but I thought I'd just remark on a couple recent events.

First, I saw Beach Blanket Babylon a couple weeks ago. I had never been, which apparently is quite shocking for a person living in San Francisco. I really liked the timely, topical humor, though to be honest, the thing I liked the most was that it was exactly what I would do if given the power to put on a musical—use it as an excuse to put all my favorite songs in a show, held together by a sliver, a thin wisp of a plot. Just like Gosford Park! In fact, when I was in college I sketched out a fluffy musical of boy meets girl, boy loses girl because he's stupid and there's another boy, boy gets girl in the end tale strung together with my favorite oldies. But I suppose I lacked ambition as that half idea went nowhere. At any rate, BBB was a good time. Highly recommend it.

Second, I went to a wedding last weekend with a bouquet toss that proved once again how TV and movies and convential wisdom have lied to me (e.g. Clueless, My Best Friend's Wedding). Apparently, not every gal wants to catch the bride's bouquet. In fact, maybe a lot don't. It took an insane amount of prodding to get any of the "single" women (including myself) out on the floor for the toss. Then, the dominant current of conversation among us was how we were all determined not to catch the bouquet because, I dunno, none of us want to get married? We don't like commitment? How about the pressure of catching the dang thing? The horror of the symbolism? It was starting to look dicey. In the end, the girl next to me caught it. The inside information was that the bride was aiming for me and had I made half an effort, I could have caught it. To be honest, the girl didn't make much of an effort and the bouquet pretty much landed in her hands which were down in front of her, and she probably thought it would be bad to let it hit the ground.

You Can Never Have Too Many Remotes
MONDAY, JULY 5, 2004 9:28 PM
It's nice to know that the guy who created the first remote control is as disappointed as I am that we all still have to have so many remotes. This is the situation in my house. The left remote is for the digital cable box—only because we have an awesome deal on HBO; the second from the left is the "universal" remote that came with the tuner that controls the sound on all the devices (radio, TV, DVD player, CD player, VCR, cable box, and TV recording and playing computer), but doesn't quite totally replace the functionality of any of the individual device remotes; the middle remote is the DVD remote; the next one is the five device "universal" remote that pretty much only controls the TV and its volume and the input button puts it on whatever non-TV device the tuner is set on; and the last remote is the VCR remote—needed to program the VCR and watch movies, though we don't use that much.

MAYBE THIS IS HOW DIVERSITY TRAINING SHOULD ALWAYS BE
So there was a great story in SFGate.com about the 49ers diversity workshop that apparently wasn't a mockable mess, but rather interesting. The exercises they did and getting to actually learn about the diversity within the team also sounded pretty worthwhile. And "Brown Eyes, Blue Eyes''? Totally saw that in junior high.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING KIND OF RELATED
Friday was the 40th anniversary of the signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

FOR THE SAKE OF CONTRAST
So Disney, yes that same Disney that agreed to make Michael Moore's film but then not release it, has put out a film that's apparently an obvious contrast to Fahrenheit 9/11 (but the Mouse never said that so don't go suggesting that). Still haven't seen Fahrenheit thanks to it being very sold out this weekend. America's Heart and Soul, which opened last Friday sounds like an incredibly worthy and valuable project—telling the stories of "ordinary" Americans and celebrating the good things about America. But the people in the SFGate story who were all "I don't want to see Michael Moore's movie because he's so negative" kind of scare me. You don't have to agree with him, but there's a value to a movie that makes you think or at least question the choices made by the guys running the place. You can respect an opinion and disagree with it. (Admittedly, I wonder a bit about Michael Moore on that point, especially with his whole threat to sue anyone who tried to "defame" him.) We don't live in a shiny, happy, perfect America, but it's not all horribly depressing either. But not recognizing or acknowledging that there is good and bad is such a personal disservice.

Completely unfair box office totals comparison (fire of controversy take vs. typical documentary take):

Fahrenheit 9/11: $21 million, $12,174 per screen average, second at the box office behind Spider-Man 2's insane $115 million
America's Heart and Soul: $173,000, $1,765 per screen average

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