The Super Bowl is over, the Patriots lost, and now the debate begins over whether they, along with Tom Brady, truly belong in that Pantheon of great franchises and quarterbacks.
Who cares?
Why is this so important? Don't their accomplishments speak for themselves? Is there any need to thumb-suck over just exactly where they fall?
I don't get it. They've been to five Super Bowls in 10 years, and won three of them. In that 10-year span, they've only missed the playoffs twice, and won the AFC East the other eight times.
They had a spell between their last Super Bowl and this past January without a playoff victory (0-3, if you include XLII). Somehow, that was supposed to have tarnished their legacy.
This year, they won the two games they had to win to get to the Super Bowl, but lost to a team that -- I think, anyway -- was better than they were. In fact, I'd submit the Baltimore Ravens were probably better too.
And that brings us right back to where we were before that Denver victory. The loss somehow tarnishes their legacy.
Can we agree on one thing? That half the reason why the "experts" are so gleefully pillorying the Patriots has more to do with their perceived institutional arrogance (Bill Belichick's reputation as a cheater a big part of that) than anything else?
I think that's a fair statement. People tend to get bored when the same teams win again and again. I can remember hating the Dallas Cowboys when I was a kid for that exact reason. They won so often, and there was such an institutional quality about them, that winning was often a given. If there was any question about a call, for example, it would go their way.
Call it the Duke syndrome. There's no reason to despise Duke's basketball team. They have a coach, Mike Krzyzewski, who appears to play by the rules and win the right way. There are no recruiting scandals. You never see Coach K on the sidelines browbeating players, the way his mentor (Bobby Knight) did. When he loses, he conducts himself with class. His players, if they don't come out early, graduate.
Yet I never root for the Blue Devils unless they're playing North Carolina, and even then, it's with great reluctance. Why? Because every blasted time a call could go either way, it goes to Duke. Every time. Seriously. I can remember once listening to a coach harp on an umpire who had an unusually generous strike zone against a pitcher who really didn't need his largesse.
"He's good enough as it is," the coach barked. "He doesn't need YOUR help."
That's how I feel about Duke. Year in and year out, the Blue Devils are more than capable of sinking or swimming on their own. Do they need to get every close call too?
This happens more often than not with teams who have winning legacies. I've seen it happen so often. An upstart team (or better, a team that has no business even being in the game) finds itself in a position to win against the established order. Next thing you know, the underdog team is called for holding at a critical time, or one of its players brushes up against Shaquille O'Neal and is called for a foul. Or, in the case of baseball, Derek Jeter comes to the plate in a critical situation and gets every stinking borderline pitch until he gets a good fat one and drills it.
The Patriots have finally reached that point ... but believe me, they had their moments of being absolutely jobbed out of victories too in the days before Bill Parcells finally changed the culture of the franchise for good.
I guess you could call it a case of "to the victor goes the spoils." The more you win, and more it gets to be almost institutional, the more breaks you get. And the Patriots caught a ton of them this year. I can remember wanting to throw things at Don Shula when I watched him on TV. Shula's Dolphins, in the 1970s and 80s, were like the Patriots are now. It was never a question of whether the Dolphins would make the playoffs, it was "who do they play, and can Griese/Marino/whomever win playoff games by themselves?"
But they rode that wave of reputation for years before it all finally caught up to them. And Shula had his bouts of arrogance too. The biggest thing with him was that all while the Dolphins were winning, he was on the NFL Rules Committee, and always managed to influence the rules changes to benefit whatever situation he was in. If you wonder why it is that offensive linemen can practically pull defenders' arms off in efforts to protect the quarterback, look no further than Shula, because you know that rules regarding holding have been relaxed (which also begs the question as to what criteria referees DO use when the actually make the call).
Similarly when Indy's Bill Polian was on the rules committee, Peyton Manning's receivers were mugged by the Patriots in the 2004 AFC championship game. Manning was picked off four times, and the Patriots beat the Colts to make the Super Bowl.
The next year? New rules ... favoring receivers. Hey, you have to use your influence any way you can.
The Patriots have their share of arrogance within their organization. Some would say more than their share. You can start with Bill Belichick himself. Now, it isn't possible for anyone to be as intrinsically evil as The Hoodie tries to make himself out to be. It's almost as if he asks himself, "how can I look like more of a jerk here? Am I doing all that's humanly possible to be as big a churl as I can be?"
If you look at the whole man, he's probably not so bad. But his football face, and his football persona, are deplorable. They violate everything your mother ever taught you about being polite and pleasant. The Football Hoodie wouldn't tell you if you were on fire. He'd tell you to wait until Wednesday when the first injury report comes out.
He's a big reason why, today, everyone's pig-piling on the Patriots about their legacy. Which is fine with me. And it wouldn't matter if he were Rex Ryan, who is his polar opposite in every way possible. Rex is getting his share for being the braggart who can't back it up. And that's after making the AFC championship game two straight years!
Tom Brady tries to project himself as something a little different. He doesn't try to be a churl. But, methinks there's more than a little Eddie Haskell in him. He's as cooperative and cordial as he has to be in the required settings, but something tells me he's not like that all the time. He doesn't always come across as being all that genuine in candid moments, like when he points to the referee and starts to beg for calls ... or when you see him getting into dustups on the sidelines, trying to blame receivers when plays don't work.
Manning used to do that too, in his early days, and he took a lot of heat for it as well.
I know it's a competitive game. Tempers get the best of you. And it may be unfair, but when the spotlight falls on you, it reflects that moment and no other. If you've picked that particular time to go off on your receiver who has just missed a ball that was a hair beyond his fingertips, or who couldn't come up with a pass that you threw behind him, you don't look very good. And Brady's done that a couple of times.
Once again, I have to draw an analogy. Call it the Jim Rice syndrome. Rice, who is now in the Hall of Fame, was one of the more menacing Red Sox clubhouse figures to deal with. He once ripped the shirt off a reporter. He gave arrogance a new meaning, his incredibly condescending and uncooperative nature rubbed off on the rest of the team, and he was universally despised for just about his entire career. And I honestly think that had a lot to do with the fact it took him until almost his last year of eligibility to make the Hall of Fame. He was borderline at best, and his churlishness didn't help his cause.
However, he was one of baseball's most feared power hitters, too -- at least for about eight or nine years. But he also led the league, in just about every one of those years, in hitting into double plays. This is where the Rice Syndrome comes into play. I submit that had he been a Cal Ripken Jr. type of guy (look it up; Ripken hit into his share of double plays too), nobody would have cared. They'd have all realized that in order to hit into that many DPs, you often have to hit the ball on the screws ... right at an infielder.
You never heard people complain about Ripken's double plays. But that's all you heard about with Rice. Never mind the homers are RBI. People focused on the double plays. And ... Rice, if you listened to his critics, was the absolute kind of knocking in meaningless runs.
This was the media's way of paying him back for the bad Karma he spread around.
This is now what I think is going on with the Patriots. By any measurable standard you choose to use, five Super Bowls in 10 years is pretty damn good. The only franchise that compares with the Patriots since the New England began its run is the Pittsburgh Steelers (three). Since 2000, the Giants have also been in three Super Bowls, winning twice.
The Colts, for all their glittering statistics, have been in only two, winning one.
Since the year 2000, the Steelers have won two Super Bowls, as have the Giants ... both one less than the Patriots.
In a league whose system and salary cap almost invites mercurial season-to-season performances, the Patriots have been remarkably consistent, winning eight divisional championships in 10 years. In that span, they have had double-digit regular-season winning records every years except for 2002, when they won nine games. Three times over that span they've been 14-2, once 13-3, once 12-4, twice 11-5 and twice 10-6.
This year, with a defense that all but the most rabid pom-pom wavers could easily see was not of championship caliber, they found ways to win, and make it all the way to the Super Bowl. Sometimes it was luck. No question. Sometimes, like in that first Denver game, teams handed it to them. Sometimes, they just came out and beat the other team silly with their offense. And sometimes (like the Washington and Miami games) they had to hang on by the skin of their teeth.
And we all know what happened in the AFC championship game when Billy Cundiff missed the field goal that would have sent the game into overtime.
But they won. There are 32 teams that begin this quest each September, and only two standing the first weekend of the February. One of them was the Patriots, despite all their shortcomings.
So if you want to vent your frustrations over the team's institutional arrogance, be my guest. There's enough to complain about. Watching a Belichick news conference after the Patriots lose is like grilling someone about an embarrassing family secret. Listening to him in the middle of the week berating reporters for asking questions he doesn't deem worthy of answering, your jaw drops at how someone who's that accomplished could also be so rude. It just doesn't compute.
You hear things about how generous he is with his friends, and how gregarious he can be in relaxed settings, and that's nice. But his job also includes dealing with the media too, and however much he doesn't like them, it still goes with the package. We don't necessarily like him all that much, either. I know, personally, that as much as I might be inclined to call Rex Ryan a blowhard (and I am!!), I'd also prefer dealing with a blowhard who gave you something you could use than a guy who, when he has a chance to connect with fans after a tough loss, says "we just got off the field. I don't know."
So yes. Hate him as much as you want. But as far as their legacy goes, the Patriots don't have to justify themselves to anybody. In every conceivable, measurable category of the 21st century, they come out ahead. That may change in the near future as other teams rise up to assume their dominance. But for now, even with this loss, the Patriots are still the current NFL standard. And any suggestion to the contrary is just ludicrous.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
A little of this ... a little of that
OK. I can breathe again. The Patriots are in the Super Bowl. Lots of things have been pushed to the back burner as we threw ourselves into daily apprehension about the Patriots.
Now that we have a couple of weeks before we have to rev ourselves up again, here are some quick hits on some other issues ...
On Joe Paterno ... it's too soon to make a definitive statement about what his legacy is. There's a lot of good ... and there's one, giant bad. It'll take time, and perspective, to sort this all out and come to a conclusion about whether the impeccable reputation he carried for 45 years can, in any way, mitigate his tacit culpability in the Jerry Sandusky scandal.
But I can tell you this: The great ones always know when it's time to go. Joe Pa was 85 years old, set in his ways, of a different culture, and, as the years wore on, tunnel-visioned about that mark he was going to leave on Penn State and college football.
Those are all fatal ingredients when it comes to looking the other way, or, at the very least, providing minimal -- if any -- resistance to what I think we all can agree was a monstrous situation at Penn State. Perhaps if he'd been less interested in his legacy, and more cognizant that the game, and even the world, was a whole lot different than it was in 1966, when he became the coach at Penn State, he might have realized it was time to go when he was still maybe in his 70s ... before his judgment may have been clouded by delusions of grandeur.
Regardless of any of that, it's a bit sad to know that he died a broken man. He obviously did not intend to hurt anyone in anything he did ... it's just an awful tragedy he harmed people in what he didn't do.
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On Gabby Giffords ... a tragedy regardless of how you look at it. More than the country needs Barack Obama, or Newt Gingrich, or Mitt Romney, the country needs women like Gabby Giffords ... willing, at a young age, to put herself in the political arena and stand up for the things she believes.
In the end, it's not whether you're liberal or conservative that makes you a good leader. It's your willingness to put your principals on the line and become part of the process ... to fight the good fight. And maybe it's even to understand you'll never get everything you want, but that just by being there, you've made a difference.
From all indications, Gabby Giffords was that kind of person. The country is poorer this morning because some deranged nut shot her in the head last year, and her rehab precludes her from serving anymore.
What a sin. Of course, Giffords needs to rehabilitate herself. The sin is that deranged hate claimed exactly the type of person this country needs if it's ever going to get out of this morass of gridlock politics.
And before anyone starts excoriating me about that last statement, hear me out. Hate is hate. It doesn't matter, really what side it comes from, and who's doing the hating. It's all the same. It's ugly; and it leads people to do horrific things.
Just because the perpetrator in this shooting/murder was disturbed, and perhaps even apolitical, he did not live in a vacuum. He saw the same things we saw, and felt the same vibe. In fact, I'd even suggest that disturbed people often have more finely-tuned antennae than the rest of us do ... because it's those finely-tuned antennae that fuels their paranoia and their hate.
And I think that's an important thing to remember. We need to stop acting as if we're stunned every time some "nut job" goes on a rampage and shoots up a political rally, or a high school, or a college campus. We are all connected, whether we want to admit it or not. And our willingness to let hate flourish in our midst contributes to these mass tragedies.
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On Newt Gingrich ... I don't like Newt. I think he's a smart guy, but I also thinks he plays to the cheap seats much too often with his rhetoric. I also think if the conservatives who despise Barack Obama so much nominate Newt, it'll backfire and that Obama will win.
That said, I can't help think of the old proverb "a good judge conceives quickly and judges slowly" with regards to the ABC interview last week with his second wife and his suggestion that they share an open marriage.
Here's the thing about power. We all know it corrupts. And that absolute power corrupts absolutely. Yada, yada, yada.
But why do you suppose that is? It's because the temptations are more powerful. The ego is bigger. You have so many people in your coterie whose only job is to get you what you want, and when you want it, that you become oblivious to the idea that there's anything out there you can't have.
Often, powerful people are passionate people. The same holds true with creative people, too, by the way. And the ego boost that people who who want to bask in your glow can give you can truly be intoxicating if you're not careful, or if your priorities aren't in the right order.
All of which explains why musicians, actors, actresses, business leaders and politicians often lead the human race in human drama.
It's no secret that Newt had affairs, and that Newt was (and may even still be) a player. So trotting that woman out for the interview, as much fun as it might have been to do, did nothing except rally an angry conservative base that is convinced that there's a double standard when it comes to these things.
So if any of his rivals were behind this, I'd say it was a major fail.
My only comment is this: If you're going to be that way, then be that way. In the end, it's between you, your wife/mistress/whatever, your family ... and no one else. I'm willing to judge slowly on that account.
But for heaven's sake, don't paint yourself out to be something entirely different, and please don't use your hypocrisy as a cudgel to batter someone else who's doing essentially the same thing you are.
And this is what bothers me about Newt. In the early days of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, Gingrich -- by virtue of his position as Speaker of the House if nothing else -- was a major force behind the decision to impeach Bill Clinton.
Regardless of what you think about his morals (or, if you will, lack of them), the hypocrisy is astounding. I'm not willing to judge slowly on that account.
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On Mitt Romney ... If Mitt were a tree, and I was looking to grab onto a good, sturdy one if the raging flood waters were coming toward me, I'd be in a lot of trouble. There do not seem to be many good roots there.
He's opportunistic, but in politics, sadly, that's the norm. Mitt's bigger problem is that he's tone freaking deaf about how he allows himself to be perceived. This is the exact same thing that got George H.W. Bush defeated in 1992.
Here's Mitt up on the stump saying "I've lived in fear of getting a pink slip." Oh yeah? When? I'll bet the only pink slip Mitt ever got was the title to one of his cars.
And here's Mitt up on the stump saying he likes the fact that he can fire people. Now, he meant this in such a way as to say that he thought it was a good thing to have the freedom to be able to let go of people doing work for you if they're not doing it correctly.
But did he have to use the word "fire?" In this economy? Especially since he's already being tarred and feathered as a corporate cold-heart who made his money streamlining failing companies (read: firing people) and turning them into profitability?
I can't deal with politicians who are that oblivious to how things look and sound. And I'm sure I'm not alone.
Perception is reality. And it doesn't matter how fair or unfair you think that is, either.
So you can imagine my utter shock (sarcasm icon, please) when Mitt admitted he had money in Cayman Island accounts. I don't think there are many rigid qualifications for being president of the United States, but not being absolutely stupid has to be one of them.
Even if there's nothing untoward going on with regards to Mitt's offshore accounts (and you know, he seems so airily blind to how all this looks to people struggling to survive that I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt), wouldn't you think he'd have straightened all these things out before he ran?
If he wants the job that badly, wouldn't you think there would be people telling him, "Mitt ... no. Offshore accounts in this economy are going to make it look like you're hiding money and taking advantage of tax loopholes, even if you're not. It's going to make you the butt of all the jokes on late-night TV if anyone finds out about it. You're going to look like George I when he appeared to express surprise that there were scanners in supermarkets."
So I have to ask ... what is the matter with him?
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On Robert Kraft and Patriots fans ... All right, the next time Tim Tebow genuflects on the sidelines as if he's the pope, nobody should complain. If I hear one more time that the spirit of his late wife Myra Kraft (who died of cancer in July) blew Billy Cundiff's chip shot field goal wide I'm going to scream.
It's a nice sentiment. And I'm sure that Bob Kraft -- who appears to be somewhat of a decent, sincere guy in my book -- believes it on some level. And it would certainly seem that some kind of supernatural force took over at that point and willed that kick wide. Sometimes, there are no other explanations. Cundiff lines up to make that kick 100 times, he knocks it through 99.
So believe what you want. But if that's what you choose to believe, don't be cutting Tebow up for "thanking his lord and savior Jesus Christ" at the beginning of every interview. You either believe or you don't. And if you're willing to go public with such a notion that the spirit of Myra Kraft had any outcome on Sunday's game, then you have no business criticizing other religious athletes for how they observe their faith.
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On Billy Cundiff himself ... The name sounds too much like Billy Crudup to me.
Billy Crudup is known most -- to me, at least -- for his role in "Almost Famous." And I'm sure Billy Cundiff wouldn't mind being "almost famous" today. Because sure as shooting, Cundiff has fame's bull's eye in the Baltimore area today ... and for reasons nobody would want.
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Somehow, I think the Patriots get the job done this time.
Now that we have a couple of weeks before we have to rev ourselves up again, here are some quick hits on some other issues ...
On Joe Paterno ... it's too soon to make a definitive statement about what his legacy is. There's a lot of good ... and there's one, giant bad. It'll take time, and perspective, to sort this all out and come to a conclusion about whether the impeccable reputation he carried for 45 years can, in any way, mitigate his tacit culpability in the Jerry Sandusky scandal.
But I can tell you this: The great ones always know when it's time to go. Joe Pa was 85 years old, set in his ways, of a different culture, and, as the years wore on, tunnel-visioned about that mark he was going to leave on Penn State and college football.
Those are all fatal ingredients when it comes to looking the other way, or, at the very least, providing minimal -- if any -- resistance to what I think we all can agree was a monstrous situation at Penn State. Perhaps if he'd been less interested in his legacy, and more cognizant that the game, and even the world, was a whole lot different than it was in 1966, when he became the coach at Penn State, he might have realized it was time to go when he was still maybe in his 70s ... before his judgment may have been clouded by delusions of grandeur.
Regardless of any of that, it's a bit sad to know that he died a broken man. He obviously did not intend to hurt anyone in anything he did ... it's just an awful tragedy he harmed people in what he didn't do.
----------
On Gabby Giffords ... a tragedy regardless of how you look at it. More than the country needs Barack Obama, or Newt Gingrich, or Mitt Romney, the country needs women like Gabby Giffords ... willing, at a young age, to put herself in the political arena and stand up for the things she believes.
In the end, it's not whether you're liberal or conservative that makes you a good leader. It's your willingness to put your principals on the line and become part of the process ... to fight the good fight. And maybe it's even to understand you'll never get everything you want, but that just by being there, you've made a difference.
From all indications, Gabby Giffords was that kind of person. The country is poorer this morning because some deranged nut shot her in the head last year, and her rehab precludes her from serving anymore.
What a sin. Of course, Giffords needs to rehabilitate herself. The sin is that deranged hate claimed exactly the type of person this country needs if it's ever going to get out of this morass of gridlock politics.
And before anyone starts excoriating me about that last statement, hear me out. Hate is hate. It doesn't matter, really what side it comes from, and who's doing the hating. It's all the same. It's ugly; and it leads people to do horrific things.
Just because the perpetrator in this shooting/murder was disturbed, and perhaps even apolitical, he did not live in a vacuum. He saw the same things we saw, and felt the same vibe. In fact, I'd even suggest that disturbed people often have more finely-tuned antennae than the rest of us do ... because it's those finely-tuned antennae that fuels their paranoia and their hate.
And I think that's an important thing to remember. We need to stop acting as if we're stunned every time some "nut job" goes on a rampage and shoots up a political rally, or a high school, or a college campus. We are all connected, whether we want to admit it or not. And our willingness to let hate flourish in our midst contributes to these mass tragedies.
----------
On Newt Gingrich ... I don't like Newt. I think he's a smart guy, but I also thinks he plays to the cheap seats much too often with his rhetoric. I also think if the conservatives who despise Barack Obama so much nominate Newt, it'll backfire and that Obama will win.
That said, I can't help think of the old proverb "a good judge conceives quickly and judges slowly" with regards to the ABC interview last week with his second wife and his suggestion that they share an open marriage.
Here's the thing about power. We all know it corrupts. And that absolute power corrupts absolutely. Yada, yada, yada.
But why do you suppose that is? It's because the temptations are more powerful. The ego is bigger. You have so many people in your coterie whose only job is to get you what you want, and when you want it, that you become oblivious to the idea that there's anything out there you can't have.
Often, powerful people are passionate people. The same holds true with creative people, too, by the way. And the ego boost that people who who want to bask in your glow can give you can truly be intoxicating if you're not careful, or if your priorities aren't in the right order.
All of which explains why musicians, actors, actresses, business leaders and politicians often lead the human race in human drama.
It's no secret that Newt had affairs, and that Newt was (and may even still be) a player. So trotting that woman out for the interview, as much fun as it might have been to do, did nothing except rally an angry conservative base that is convinced that there's a double standard when it comes to these things.
So if any of his rivals were behind this, I'd say it was a major fail.
My only comment is this: If you're going to be that way, then be that way. In the end, it's between you, your wife/mistress/whatever, your family ... and no one else. I'm willing to judge slowly on that account.
But for heaven's sake, don't paint yourself out to be something entirely different, and please don't use your hypocrisy as a cudgel to batter someone else who's doing essentially the same thing you are.
And this is what bothers me about Newt. In the early days of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, Gingrich -- by virtue of his position as Speaker of the House if nothing else -- was a major force behind the decision to impeach Bill Clinton.
Regardless of what you think about his morals (or, if you will, lack of them), the hypocrisy is astounding. I'm not willing to judge slowly on that account.
----------
On Mitt Romney ... If Mitt were a tree, and I was looking to grab onto a good, sturdy one if the raging flood waters were coming toward me, I'd be in a lot of trouble. There do not seem to be many good roots there.
He's opportunistic, but in politics, sadly, that's the norm. Mitt's bigger problem is that he's tone freaking deaf about how he allows himself to be perceived. This is the exact same thing that got George H.W. Bush defeated in 1992.
Here's Mitt up on the stump saying "I've lived in fear of getting a pink slip." Oh yeah? When? I'll bet the only pink slip Mitt ever got was the title to one of his cars.
And here's Mitt up on the stump saying he likes the fact that he can fire people. Now, he meant this in such a way as to say that he thought it was a good thing to have the freedom to be able to let go of people doing work for you if they're not doing it correctly.
But did he have to use the word "fire?" In this economy? Especially since he's already being tarred and feathered as a corporate cold-heart who made his money streamlining failing companies (read: firing people) and turning them into profitability?
I can't deal with politicians who are that oblivious to how things look and sound. And I'm sure I'm not alone.
Perception is reality. And it doesn't matter how fair or unfair you think that is, either.
So you can imagine my utter shock (sarcasm icon, please) when Mitt admitted he had money in Cayman Island accounts. I don't think there are many rigid qualifications for being president of the United States, but not being absolutely stupid has to be one of them.
Even if there's nothing untoward going on with regards to Mitt's offshore accounts (and you know, he seems so airily blind to how all this looks to people struggling to survive that I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt), wouldn't you think he'd have straightened all these things out before he ran?
If he wants the job that badly, wouldn't you think there would be people telling him, "Mitt ... no. Offshore accounts in this economy are going to make it look like you're hiding money and taking advantage of tax loopholes, even if you're not. It's going to make you the butt of all the jokes on late-night TV if anyone finds out about it. You're going to look like George I when he appeared to express surprise that there were scanners in supermarkets."
So I have to ask ... what is the matter with him?
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On Robert Kraft and Patriots fans ... All right, the next time Tim Tebow genuflects on the sidelines as if he's the pope, nobody should complain. If I hear one more time that the spirit of his late wife Myra Kraft (who died of cancer in July) blew Billy Cundiff's chip shot field goal wide I'm going to scream.
It's a nice sentiment. And I'm sure that Bob Kraft -- who appears to be somewhat of a decent, sincere guy in my book -- believes it on some level. And it would certainly seem that some kind of supernatural force took over at that point and willed that kick wide. Sometimes, there are no other explanations. Cundiff lines up to make that kick 100 times, he knocks it through 99.
So believe what you want. But if that's what you choose to believe, don't be cutting Tebow up for "thanking his lord and savior Jesus Christ" at the beginning of every interview. You either believe or you don't. And if you're willing to go public with such a notion that the spirit of Myra Kraft had any outcome on Sunday's game, then you have no business criticizing other religious athletes for how they observe their faith.
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On Billy Cundiff himself ... The name sounds too much like Billy Crudup to me.
Billy Crudup is known most -- to me, at least -- for his role in "Almost Famous." And I'm sure Billy Cundiff wouldn't mind being "almost famous" today. Because sure as shooting, Cundiff has fame's bull's eye in the Baltimore area today ... and for reasons nobody would want.
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Somehow, I think the Patriots get the job done this time.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Baseball Glove
After two years of my mother being in a nursing home, we've decided it's time to turn my parents' house into a home for its current occupants. This means sorting through a lifetime of accumulations and memories and figure out what to keep and what to throw out.
My son and his friend live there now, and recently they spent the day going through some old stuff of mine and my sister's, when were were kids, and putting it in individual boxes. One such object was the first baseball glove I ever owned. It got me through Little League and high school; and it got me through countless softball games as I got older.
But today, it's so worn down it looks like an animal chewed on it. All the original laces are gone, and the pocket is held together with laces from a pair of sneakers. I'm sure I didn't think of that. I'm just as sure that my father DID.
I know this because when the glove got to the point, I'd have wanted my father to go out and buy me another one. And he'd have used the opportunity to lecture me about how money doesn't grown on trees, and that if you can use your ingenuity to fix it, then that's what you do.
I was a typical kid. The minute something lost its new sheen, I wanted another one. My father was a kid who grew up in the depression. He played hockey with cardboard boxes for pads. He knew a great deal more about thrift than I ever did until he got old, and his finances got away from him.
But this isn't a "Daddy Dearest" blog item. It's a blog item about how the glove was autographed by Don Drysdale, and how much I idolized him as a child, simply because of that.
I loved the Los Angeles Dodgers when I was a kid. One of the happiest times in my life occurred in 1963, when the swept the New York Yankees out of the world series. Two years later, they won the whole thing again; and the year after that -- 1966 -- they were swept out of the series by another fledgling baseball dynasty ... the Baltimore Orioles.
From my total infatuation with Don Drysdale (which ended in the mid-1960s when I became Brooks Robinson's biggest non-Oriole fan), I learned the frustration of following West Coast baseball (something we no longer have to deal with thanks to the Internet). I'd wake up at 7 in the morning in the summer, dive for the newspaper see whether the Dodgers won and if Drysdale pitched. And if their game was in LA, you'd get a big (N) next to the game in the daily standings.
And since there was no 24/7 news cycle either back in the 1960s, you had to wait until the next day to find out how the West Coasters did.
That never mattered to me, though. I was a Don Drysdale guy. And, by extension, a Dodgers' guy. Oh, I knew all about Sandy Koufax and Johnny Podres, and I loved them. But only because they were on the same team as Don Drysdale.
Because he was a Californian by birth as well as vocation, and because he was a tall, good looking drink of water, Drysdale had cameos on a lot of the era's TV shows. He even showed up on "Leave it to Beaver."
He may have had a glamorous image, but he was one, tough, MEAN SOB on the mound. Had a blazing fastball, and he wasn't afraid to use it as a weapon.
Drysdale played three years longer than Koufax, retiring in 1969 with 209 wins and a 2.75 earned run average. He pitched 58 scoreless innings in 1968 -- his last full season in the majors. He is in the Hall of Fame.
"Big D" was 6-5 and 195 pounds ... or so he was listed. Anyone 6-5 weighing 195 had to look like a twig, and Drysdale was no twig. He may have been 195 when he was a raw rookie, but I'm sure he filled out over 200 by the time he was in his prime. Hell, his legs had to have weighed that much.
We move forward to 1987, by which time Drysdale is one of the two principal broadcasters for the Chicago White Sox. On this particular weeknight, the White Sox were in Boston, which meant that both Drysdale and Ken Harrelson were under the same roof. FI think I lost my keys and had to wait until the person who was offering to take me home was ready to leave. And he didn't want to. He wanted to sit around and listen to Don Drysdale and Ken Harrelson to swap stories.
If there were any two better raconteurs than "Big D" and "The Hawk" back then, I defy you to name him. These guys were the best. They were sitting in the media room, knocking back their drinks, and talking about the "old days." Every story was funnier than the last one.
And this is one of the bigger reasons baseball is such a great game. It lends itself to folklore as easily as tales of the wild, wild west. Every player has a war story, and they're all fascinating.
You don't hear this in any other sport. You certainly don't hear it in pro football, because most of the time, when ex-NFLers get together, they talk more about "this hurts, I can't bend this, and I've had so many concussions I'm donating my brain to research." It'll be a cold day in hell before Bill Belichick sits on a bench in the dugout, regaling reporters about some of the game's greats. But Drysdale and Harrelson were doing exactly that. I was loving it.
And I was a wonderful audience, too. I laughed at everything either one of them said. I think by the end of the night they were ready to pay me for making them look like professional comics.
But somewhere, I snuck my tale of youthful idolatry into the conversation. I was 33 years old at the time, and hardly what you'd call a wide-eyed innocent. Heck no. I was covering the Sox that night.
You take a risk telling ex-athletes how much you admire them, but I have to say I've had great luck in this regard. When Boston hosted the 1999 all-star game, they introduced the all-century team at a luncheon/meet and greet.
I'd heard all about what a churl Bob Gibson was. So I talked with Warren Spahn ... and caught up with Brooks Robinson. We both a lot about Frank Robinson, who was the best ballplayer I ever saw with my own eyes, as opposed to reading, or hearing, about him.
When I finally summoned up the nerve, I went up to Gibson and told him that I was from Boston. He thought I was going to come up and start ragging on him because of the 1967 World Series. But I was actually coming up to him to say how much I enjoyed seeing him beat the Yankees way back in 1964. He liked that a lot better, and we talked about that game, and about Johnny Keane (the Cardinals manager), and about, of all people, Tim McCarver (who annoyed me even back then).
It was a nice conversation. Gibson's actually a pretty funny guy.
That's how it was with Drysdale too. I told him how having his name on my glove opened me up to being not just a Red Sox fan, but a fan of the game. And while I don't deny today that I love my Sox as much as the next guy, I'm also a fan of the game.
I walked away from the conversation extremely grateful that someone I'd idolized as a little kid turned out to such a great guy when I finally got to meet him.
Drysdale died of a heart attack on July 3, 1993. That would be just a month before I turned 40 ... certainly old enough, and cynical enough, to remain singularly unimpressed with treating athletes like they were gods.
Yet it affected me. Because all I could think of, when I heard that he'd died, was that thank God, when I finally got to meet him, he appeared every bit as nice and genuine as I'd ever hoped he would be.
That poor glove. It's horrible looking. If looks like it belongs on the Island of Misfit Toys. It's the Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree of baseball gloves.
Yet like a lot of things, it has great symbolism to me. Holding it my left hand, putting it on my left hand ... in that instant, I was transported back my local Little League field, trying desperately to catch the ground balls my coach was hitting me.
And listening to Don Drysdale's wonderful tales of what it was like to be a Major League ballplayer.
My son and his friend live there now, and recently they spent the day going through some old stuff of mine and my sister's, when were were kids, and putting it in individual boxes. One such object was the first baseball glove I ever owned. It got me through Little League and high school; and it got me through countless softball games as I got older.
But today, it's so worn down it looks like an animal chewed on it. All the original laces are gone, and the pocket is held together with laces from a pair of sneakers. I'm sure I didn't think of that. I'm just as sure that my father DID.
I know this because when the glove got to the point, I'd have wanted my father to go out and buy me another one. And he'd have used the opportunity to lecture me about how money doesn't grown on trees, and that if you can use your ingenuity to fix it, then that's what you do.
I was a typical kid. The minute something lost its new sheen, I wanted another one. My father was a kid who grew up in the depression. He played hockey with cardboard boxes for pads. He knew a great deal more about thrift than I ever did until he got old, and his finances got away from him.
But this isn't a "Daddy Dearest" blog item. It's a blog item about how the glove was autographed by Don Drysdale, and how much I idolized him as a child, simply because of that.
I loved the Los Angeles Dodgers when I was a kid. One of the happiest times in my life occurred in 1963, when the swept the New York Yankees out of the world series. Two years later, they won the whole thing again; and the year after that -- 1966 -- they were swept out of the series by another fledgling baseball dynasty ... the Baltimore Orioles.
From my total infatuation with Don Drysdale (which ended in the mid-1960s when I became Brooks Robinson's biggest non-Oriole fan), I learned the frustration of following West Coast baseball (something we no longer have to deal with thanks to the Internet). I'd wake up at 7 in the morning in the summer, dive for the newspaper see whether the Dodgers won and if Drysdale pitched. And if their game was in LA, you'd get a big (N) next to the game in the daily standings.
And since there was no 24/7 news cycle either back in the 1960s, you had to wait until the next day to find out how the West Coasters did.
That never mattered to me, though. I was a Don Drysdale guy. And, by extension, a Dodgers' guy. Oh, I knew all about Sandy Koufax and Johnny Podres, and I loved them. But only because they were on the same team as Don Drysdale.
Because he was a Californian by birth as well as vocation, and because he was a tall, good looking drink of water, Drysdale had cameos on a lot of the era's TV shows. He even showed up on "Leave it to Beaver."
He may have had a glamorous image, but he was one, tough, MEAN SOB on the mound. Had a blazing fastball, and he wasn't afraid to use it as a weapon.
Drysdale played three years longer than Koufax, retiring in 1969 with 209 wins and a 2.75 earned run average. He pitched 58 scoreless innings in 1968 -- his last full season in the majors. He is in the Hall of Fame.
"Big D" was 6-5 and 195 pounds ... or so he was listed. Anyone 6-5 weighing 195 had to look like a twig, and Drysdale was no twig. He may have been 195 when he was a raw rookie, but I'm sure he filled out over 200 by the time he was in his prime. Hell, his legs had to have weighed that much.
We move forward to 1987, by which time Drysdale is one of the two principal broadcasters for the Chicago White Sox. On this particular weeknight, the White Sox were in Boston, which meant that both Drysdale and Ken Harrelson were under the same roof. FI think I lost my keys and had to wait until the person who was offering to take me home was ready to leave. And he didn't want to. He wanted to sit around and listen to Don Drysdale and Ken Harrelson to swap stories.
If there were any two better raconteurs than "Big D" and "The Hawk" back then, I defy you to name him. These guys were the best. They were sitting in the media room, knocking back their drinks, and talking about the "old days." Every story was funnier than the last one.
And this is one of the bigger reasons baseball is such a great game. It lends itself to folklore as easily as tales of the wild, wild west. Every player has a war story, and they're all fascinating.
You don't hear this in any other sport. You certainly don't hear it in pro football, because most of the time, when ex-NFLers get together, they talk more about "this hurts, I can't bend this, and I've had so many concussions I'm donating my brain to research." It'll be a cold day in hell before Bill Belichick sits on a bench in the dugout, regaling reporters about some of the game's greats. But Drysdale and Harrelson were doing exactly that. I was loving it.
And I was a wonderful audience, too. I laughed at everything either one of them said. I think by the end of the night they were ready to pay me for making them look like professional comics.
But somewhere, I snuck my tale of youthful idolatry into the conversation. I was 33 years old at the time, and hardly what you'd call a wide-eyed innocent. Heck no. I was covering the Sox that night.
You take a risk telling ex-athletes how much you admire them, but I have to say I've had great luck in this regard. When Boston hosted the 1999 all-star game, they introduced the all-century team at a luncheon/meet and greet.
I'd heard all about what a churl Bob Gibson was. So I talked with Warren Spahn ... and caught up with Brooks Robinson. We both a lot about Frank Robinson, who was the best ballplayer I ever saw with my own eyes, as opposed to reading, or hearing, about him.
When I finally summoned up the nerve, I went up to Gibson and told him that I was from Boston. He thought I was going to come up and start ragging on him because of the 1967 World Series. But I was actually coming up to him to say how much I enjoyed seeing him beat the Yankees way back in 1964. He liked that a lot better, and we talked about that game, and about Johnny Keane (the Cardinals manager), and about, of all people, Tim McCarver (who annoyed me even back then).
It was a nice conversation. Gibson's actually a pretty funny guy.
That's how it was with Drysdale too. I told him how having his name on my glove opened me up to being not just a Red Sox fan, but a fan of the game. And while I don't deny today that I love my Sox as much as the next guy, I'm also a fan of the game.
I walked away from the conversation extremely grateful that someone I'd idolized as a little kid turned out to such a great guy when I finally got to meet him.
Drysdale died of a heart attack on July 3, 1993. That would be just a month before I turned 40 ... certainly old enough, and cynical enough, to remain singularly unimpressed with treating athletes like they were gods.
Yet it affected me. Because all I could think of, when I heard that he'd died, was that thank God, when I finally got to meet him, he appeared every bit as nice and genuine as I'd ever hoped he would be.
That poor glove. It's horrible looking. If looks like it belongs on the Island of Misfit Toys. It's the Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree of baseball gloves.
Yet like a lot of things, it has great symbolism to me. Holding it my left hand, putting it on my left hand ... in that instant, I was transported back my local Little League field, trying desperately to catch the ground balls my coach was hitting me.
And listening to Don Drysdale's wonderful tales of what it was like to be a Major League ballplayer.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Just how bad IS this defense?
Sixteen games should be long enough to figure out whether a team has, or does not have, what it takes to succeed in the post-season.
There are plenty of opportunities to trip, stumble, fall, or simply not show up so that regardless of what league you're in, and regardless of who you play, and regardless of how the games play out, your final record is an accurate reflection not only of what YOU are ... but what the REST of the league is.
This is in preface to the following analysis of the Patriots as they prepare for the playoffs.
I will admit that the Patriots are the most confounding 13-3 team I've ever seen. But they are 13-3, and that, alone, reflects a certain toughness that indicates the whole is definitely greater than the sum of the parts.
Consider: They only have four reliable receivers, and none of them have the type of speed or ability to "stretch the field" the way Randy Moss did in his prime. What they do have, though, are two tight ends who can turn short-to-medium passes into long gains by their YAC ability (yards after catch). Rob Gronkowski has become a folk hero this year, in part because he's had a tremendous season on the field and also in part because his goofy, happy-go-lucky persona acts as an acute counterpoint to the dour, almost uncommunicative Bill Belichick and the scripted polish of Tom Brady.
Still, I think Aaron Hernandez, the other tight end, may end up being more valuable in the post-season. The Patriots can use him so many ways, and he can take advantage of just about any matchup teams throw at him. And if he's healthy -- as he is now (after injuring his knee early on) -- he's a real game-changer.
Wes Welker is Wes Welker. He's like a Timex watch ... takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. If all three receivers, along with Deion Branch, are on their games, it becomes tough to cover all four of them effectively. Lately, the x-factor has been Hernandez as opponents have worked harder to take Welker and Gronkowski out of their games. But it's tough to cover Hernandez man-to-man too, so we'll see what happens going forward.
They not be the fastest, but it's tough to find four more reliable receivers than Branch, Welker, Gronkowski and Hernandez. If Chad "No-show" Cinco could ever get off the mark, Brady could pass all day and the Patriots would score 40 points a game.
Well, you say, they may have to ... with that defense. And you may be right. The defense, even in a league whose rules are slanted heavily toward quarterbacks and passing, is pretty bad.
Some of that comes as the result of injury. The Patriots didn't have Patrick Chung for much of the second half, and linebackers Dane Fletcher and Brandon Spikes have missed significant time.
And some of it comes to ... I don't know ... you tell me.
Devin McCourty looked poised to be the shutdown corner the Patriots hadn't had since losing Asante Samuel to free agency (and his "shutdownability" will always come under question in my eyes because of the one interception he didn't make), but he took about 10 giant steps backward this year. Whether it was injury, whether he was a victim of there being no formal workouts (and teaching) due to the lockout, or whether it was something else, McCourty backslide dangerously.
It could be that McCourty was so used to playing zone at Rutgers (and last year) that he couldn't adapt to the Patriots' game plan, coming into the season, of playing more man coverage and using a ravamped D-line to put more pressure on the passer.
None of that happened. The revamped D-line proved as toothless this year, especially in the beginning, as it was last year, and the Patriots ended up playing a soft zone through most of the season that left the middle of the field wide freaking open for even mediocre quarterbacks to pick them apart.
This was written off as "bend but don't break," and, whether through skill or good fortune, it worked through most of the season. But as we got down to the final four or five games, it didn't work quite as well ... OR ... someone on that defense had to come up with a spectacular play to avert disaster (such as Jerod Mayo's interception in the Washington game). The point is, the defense does not dominate, and it's dangerously close to doing just the opposite ... of being dominated. And this is especially true now that all-purpose defensive lineman Andre Carter is out for the playoffs.
Carter is the only guy on that d-line, other than Vince Wilfork, that the Patriots could keep out there on every play and have reasonable expectations that he'll come through. He was equally adept at rushing the passer and containing the running game (this aspect of their defense has really suffered in his absence).
If the Patriots weren't putting up 30-plus points per game, they'd be home today making plans to play golf.
But they do put up 30 points a game ... most of the time. If they can keep doing that, they have a shot in these next few weeks. They may have to win a lot of shootouts to do it, but it's doable.
Still, if you're watching, and you see a team that's so wracked with injuries that it loses practically all its games in the second half of the season come out and score 21 points right away, the way the Buffalo Bills did Sunday, it's human nature to wonder whether (or maybe when), this bubble bursts and they dig themselves too deep a hole.
Will the Steelers, or the Ravens, come in here and play just enough defense to keep the Pats to, say, 24 points ... and is that defense so bad that either Pittsburgh or Baltimore can pile up 25 or more in Foxborough?
Yes and no. Yes, the Steelers can. I'm not sure the Ravens can. And I don't think either Denver, Cincinnati or Houston can either.
But here's what you have to remember when you talk about this Patriots defense. The game is skewed toward passing. All the rules favor quarterbacks and receivers. Brady got pushed down Sunday while he was (half-heartedly, I must admit) trying to make a tackle following an interception. It probably should have been a penalty anyway (it looked as if he may have been clipped in the unlikely event that anyone seriously thought he needed to be blocked), but the call was knocking the quarterback down. He was in the act of at least looking as if he was trying to make a freakin tackle!!.
Then again, McCourty got called for "hitting a defenseless receiver" just as a fellow Patriot was intercepting a pass. Is that not occasion for McCourty to become a blocker? Just asking.
With the rules so skewed toward quarterbacks and receivers, is it any wonder both Tom Brady and Drew Brees vaulted past Dan Marino's season's record for passing yards, and that Aaron Rodgers (who did not play Sunday) was close behind? Is it any wonder, as Ochocinco said earlier this year in a tweet, that the elite quarterbacks are routinely putting up fantasy numbers every Sunday?
If you're playing under these rules, nobody's defense is going to stop anybody consistently ... and they've all shown signs of the strain. Green Bays's (as in the 15-1 Packers) certainly didn't shut anyone down this year. The Ravens, on the road, were mortal (they got eaten alive by Philip Rivers who certainly did not have his best season). Only the Steelers, it says here, have the balance to be able to win a game via both sides of the ball, if it comes down to that. Most all other teams, including the Packers, have to rely on only one specialty.
And if it's not working on that particular day, then what we have here is a year where just about every team has serious flaws. All of which means that winning and losing, in these playoffs, is going to be one giant crapshoot. And that means the Patriots have just as good a shot of winning the roll as anyone else.
So when you assess their chances in this next month, consider the following: I doubt there are many 13-3 teams that have lived with so much week-to-week uncertainty as this one has. We're not just talking about key injuries here (and they've had their share of those), we're talking about week-to-week uncertainty about how the defense is going to hold up against whatever quarterback it is facing and whether Brady and his receivers have enough firepower to overcome it.
Although the Patriots had trouble with the toughest part of their schedule (losing two straight to the Giants and Steelers during a run where they played -- at the time -- a run of games against perceived playoff teams), they rebounded and won eight in a row. Eight in a row in the NFL is good regardless of who you play. When you see how the Steelers and Ravens -- in particular -- slipped up on the road late in the season, it gives you a better appreciation for how tough it is to win consistently in the NFL. So all this armchair analysis that they didn't beat many playoff teams (and the answer is they went 1-3 against teams who have made this year's playoffs, and that team is Denver) doesn't matter. They played the schedule. They went 13-3.
And at the time they played -- and beat -- some of those teams (like the Jets, twice; and San Diego, Philadelphia and Oakland) the teams were enjoying success that the Patriots, in some cases, derailed.
I certainly get that people are concerned about this defense. You'd have to be blind not to be concerned. But what this team may lack in defensive skills it more than makes up for with intangibles.
I know. I know .... ahhhhh. the dreaded intangibles. It's right up there with "all he does is win" in the pantheon of sports cliches.
Yet even cliches have a purpose. And the best thing about this year's Patriots team is that they've recovered from some horrendous starts to win important games. And as long as they're home, and as long as they have that track record, no team can feel safe if it piles up a two-touchdown lead in the second quarter. The Patriots have quick-strike capability oozing out of them, and Brady's been there so many times he's certainly not going to be fazed if the Bengals, or even the Ravens take an early lead (Pittsburgh may be a different story).
So they're tough. They're resilient. They're not going to roll over and die, the way they did against the Ravens in 2009. And they're not so one-dimensional this year that a team like the Jets (and aren't we happy they're out??) can take two guys out of the game and beat them.
They've also benefited from teams' overall shakiness when playing them. By rights, the Patriots should be 10-6, and perhaps would be if the Redskins, Broncos, Dolphins and Bills don't hand them their last four games. And while it's easy to say "they're lucky," it's not quite that simple. Could it possibly be that teams know the Patriots are relentless on offense, and that even though they've built up big leads they still have to take chances on making big plays? And that the more gambles you take, the better the chances of having some of them blow up in your face?
That's the thing about football. Just about everything leads to something else. And the only thing that matters at the end of the day is who won.
So if the Patriots' defense gives up 32 points and the offense scores 35, does it matter five seconds after the game ends? No. Do you want to pull your hair out along the way? Of course you do. It's only natural. All that matters is that they won.
So far this season, that formula has worked. Teams march up and down the field on them ... and they march up and down right back. The difference, perhaps, is that the Patriots, late in games, seem to have a knack for doing just enough to come out ahead. And that, in itself, is a skill.
Realistically, here's what I think will happen. Pittsburgh, despite a less-than-healthy Ben Roethlisberger (who isn't going to have time to really rest that sprained ankle since the Steelers don't have a bye), will beat the Broncos. I also think Houston will defeat Cincinnati (though I'm far less sure of this, given the Texans' tenuous quarterback situation).
This puts the Pats against the Steelers and Ravens against the Texans. I think it'll be a tough game. But I also think that Roethlisberger's health will be a factor, as well the absence of Rashard Mendenhall. The combination of the two, given the Patriots' ability to put up points even against the best defenses, should be enough to put them over the top and put them in an AFC final against Baltimore.
For some reason, the Patriots have some real tong wars against the Ravens. If you remember correctly, it was the Ravens who gave them their toughest fight in 2007 en route to that 17-0 season.
I think it'll be a tough game here, too. But I just don't think Joe Flacco is going to stand in their way in their attempts to reach the Super Bowl.
I also think that playing, and beating, their two so-called equals en route to Indianapolis will toughen them up (if it doesn't kill them first) so that they'll give whichever team that face there (and I think it'll be New Orleans, I really do) a decent game for a while.
But I think that's where it ends, too. I really don't see how, with all other things being equal (meaning that Drew Brees and Aaron Rodgers are certainly in Brady's class), the Patriots can beat either team. The shootout advantage is certainly nullified. Brees has so many weapons at his disposal he could invade any country and win with them. It just seems to be too big a task.
So my final answer is: New Orleans over New England ... fairly comfortably.
There are plenty of opportunities to trip, stumble, fall, or simply not show up so that regardless of what league you're in, and regardless of who you play, and regardless of how the games play out, your final record is an accurate reflection not only of what YOU are ... but what the REST of the league is.
This is in preface to the following analysis of the Patriots as they prepare for the playoffs.
I will admit that the Patriots are the most confounding 13-3 team I've ever seen. But they are 13-3, and that, alone, reflects a certain toughness that indicates the whole is definitely greater than the sum of the parts.
Consider: They only have four reliable receivers, and none of them have the type of speed or ability to "stretch the field" the way Randy Moss did in his prime. What they do have, though, are two tight ends who can turn short-to-medium passes into long gains by their YAC ability (yards after catch). Rob Gronkowski has become a folk hero this year, in part because he's had a tremendous season on the field and also in part because his goofy, happy-go-lucky persona acts as an acute counterpoint to the dour, almost uncommunicative Bill Belichick and the scripted polish of Tom Brady.
Still, I think Aaron Hernandez, the other tight end, may end up being more valuable in the post-season. The Patriots can use him so many ways, and he can take advantage of just about any matchup teams throw at him. And if he's healthy -- as he is now (after injuring his knee early on) -- he's a real game-changer.
Wes Welker is Wes Welker. He's like a Timex watch ... takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. If all three receivers, along with Deion Branch, are on their games, it becomes tough to cover all four of them effectively. Lately, the x-factor has been Hernandez as opponents have worked harder to take Welker and Gronkowski out of their games. But it's tough to cover Hernandez man-to-man too, so we'll see what happens going forward.
They not be the fastest, but it's tough to find four more reliable receivers than Branch, Welker, Gronkowski and Hernandez. If Chad "No-show" Cinco could ever get off the mark, Brady could pass all day and the Patriots would score 40 points a game.
Well, you say, they may have to ... with that defense. And you may be right. The defense, even in a league whose rules are slanted heavily toward quarterbacks and passing, is pretty bad.
Some of that comes as the result of injury. The Patriots didn't have Patrick Chung for much of the second half, and linebackers Dane Fletcher and Brandon Spikes have missed significant time.
And some of it comes to ... I don't know ... you tell me.
Devin McCourty looked poised to be the shutdown corner the Patriots hadn't had since losing Asante Samuel to free agency (and his "shutdownability" will always come under question in my eyes because of the one interception he didn't make), but he took about 10 giant steps backward this year. Whether it was injury, whether he was a victim of there being no formal workouts (and teaching) due to the lockout, or whether it was something else, McCourty backslide dangerously.
It could be that McCourty was so used to playing zone at Rutgers (and last year) that he couldn't adapt to the Patriots' game plan, coming into the season, of playing more man coverage and using a ravamped D-line to put more pressure on the passer.
None of that happened. The revamped D-line proved as toothless this year, especially in the beginning, as it was last year, and the Patriots ended up playing a soft zone through most of the season that left the middle of the field wide freaking open for even mediocre quarterbacks to pick them apart.
This was written off as "bend but don't break," and, whether through skill or good fortune, it worked through most of the season. But as we got down to the final four or five games, it didn't work quite as well ... OR ... someone on that defense had to come up with a spectacular play to avert disaster (such as Jerod Mayo's interception in the Washington game). The point is, the defense does not dominate, and it's dangerously close to doing just the opposite ... of being dominated. And this is especially true now that all-purpose defensive lineman Andre Carter is out for the playoffs.
Carter is the only guy on that d-line, other than Vince Wilfork, that the Patriots could keep out there on every play and have reasonable expectations that he'll come through. He was equally adept at rushing the passer and containing the running game (this aspect of their defense has really suffered in his absence).
If the Patriots weren't putting up 30-plus points per game, they'd be home today making plans to play golf.
But they do put up 30 points a game ... most of the time. If they can keep doing that, they have a shot in these next few weeks. They may have to win a lot of shootouts to do it, but it's doable.
Still, if you're watching, and you see a team that's so wracked with injuries that it loses practically all its games in the second half of the season come out and score 21 points right away, the way the Buffalo Bills did Sunday, it's human nature to wonder whether (or maybe when), this bubble bursts and they dig themselves too deep a hole.
Will the Steelers, or the Ravens, come in here and play just enough defense to keep the Pats to, say, 24 points ... and is that defense so bad that either Pittsburgh or Baltimore can pile up 25 or more in Foxborough?
Yes and no. Yes, the Steelers can. I'm not sure the Ravens can. And I don't think either Denver, Cincinnati or Houston can either.
But here's what you have to remember when you talk about this Patriots defense. The game is skewed toward passing. All the rules favor quarterbacks and receivers. Brady got pushed down Sunday while he was (half-heartedly, I must admit) trying to make a tackle following an interception. It probably should have been a penalty anyway (it looked as if he may have been clipped in the unlikely event that anyone seriously thought he needed to be blocked), but the call was knocking the quarterback down. He was in the act of at least looking as if he was trying to make a freakin tackle!!.
Then again, McCourty got called for "hitting a defenseless receiver" just as a fellow Patriot was intercepting a pass. Is that not occasion for McCourty to become a blocker? Just asking.
With the rules so skewed toward quarterbacks and receivers, is it any wonder both Tom Brady and Drew Brees vaulted past Dan Marino's season's record for passing yards, and that Aaron Rodgers (who did not play Sunday) was close behind? Is it any wonder, as Ochocinco said earlier this year in a tweet, that the elite quarterbacks are routinely putting up fantasy numbers every Sunday?
If you're playing under these rules, nobody's defense is going to stop anybody consistently ... and they've all shown signs of the strain. Green Bays's (as in the 15-1 Packers) certainly didn't shut anyone down this year. The Ravens, on the road, were mortal (they got eaten alive by Philip Rivers who certainly did not have his best season). Only the Steelers, it says here, have the balance to be able to win a game via both sides of the ball, if it comes down to that. Most all other teams, including the Packers, have to rely on only one specialty.
And if it's not working on that particular day, then what we have here is a year where just about every team has serious flaws. All of which means that winning and losing, in these playoffs, is going to be one giant crapshoot. And that means the Patriots have just as good a shot of winning the roll as anyone else.
So when you assess their chances in this next month, consider the following: I doubt there are many 13-3 teams that have lived with so much week-to-week uncertainty as this one has. We're not just talking about key injuries here (and they've had their share of those), we're talking about week-to-week uncertainty about how the defense is going to hold up against whatever quarterback it is facing and whether Brady and his receivers have enough firepower to overcome it.
Although the Patriots had trouble with the toughest part of their schedule (losing two straight to the Giants and Steelers during a run where they played -- at the time -- a run of games against perceived playoff teams), they rebounded and won eight in a row. Eight in a row in the NFL is good regardless of who you play. When you see how the Steelers and Ravens -- in particular -- slipped up on the road late in the season, it gives you a better appreciation for how tough it is to win consistently in the NFL. So all this armchair analysis that they didn't beat many playoff teams (and the answer is they went 1-3 against teams who have made this year's playoffs, and that team is Denver) doesn't matter. They played the schedule. They went 13-3.
And at the time they played -- and beat -- some of those teams (like the Jets, twice; and San Diego, Philadelphia and Oakland) the teams were enjoying success that the Patriots, in some cases, derailed.
I certainly get that people are concerned about this defense. You'd have to be blind not to be concerned. But what this team may lack in defensive skills it more than makes up for with intangibles.
I know. I know .... ahhhhh. the dreaded intangibles. It's right up there with "all he does is win" in the pantheon of sports cliches.
Yet even cliches have a purpose. And the best thing about this year's Patriots team is that they've recovered from some horrendous starts to win important games. And as long as they're home, and as long as they have that track record, no team can feel safe if it piles up a two-touchdown lead in the second quarter. The Patriots have quick-strike capability oozing out of them, and Brady's been there so many times he's certainly not going to be fazed if the Bengals, or even the Ravens take an early lead (Pittsburgh may be a different story).
So they're tough. They're resilient. They're not going to roll over and die, the way they did against the Ravens in 2009. And they're not so one-dimensional this year that a team like the Jets (and aren't we happy they're out??) can take two guys out of the game and beat them.
They've also benefited from teams' overall shakiness when playing them. By rights, the Patriots should be 10-6, and perhaps would be if the Redskins, Broncos, Dolphins and Bills don't hand them their last four games. And while it's easy to say "they're lucky," it's not quite that simple. Could it possibly be that teams know the Patriots are relentless on offense, and that even though they've built up big leads they still have to take chances on making big plays? And that the more gambles you take, the better the chances of having some of them blow up in your face?
That's the thing about football. Just about everything leads to something else. And the only thing that matters at the end of the day is who won.
So if the Patriots' defense gives up 32 points and the offense scores 35, does it matter five seconds after the game ends? No. Do you want to pull your hair out along the way? Of course you do. It's only natural. All that matters is that they won.
So far this season, that formula has worked. Teams march up and down the field on them ... and they march up and down right back. The difference, perhaps, is that the Patriots, late in games, seem to have a knack for doing just enough to come out ahead. And that, in itself, is a skill.
Realistically, here's what I think will happen. Pittsburgh, despite a less-than-healthy Ben Roethlisberger (who isn't going to have time to really rest that sprained ankle since the Steelers don't have a bye), will beat the Broncos. I also think Houston will defeat Cincinnati (though I'm far less sure of this, given the Texans' tenuous quarterback situation).
This puts the Pats against the Steelers and Ravens against the Texans. I think it'll be a tough game. But I also think that Roethlisberger's health will be a factor, as well the absence of Rashard Mendenhall. The combination of the two, given the Patriots' ability to put up points even against the best defenses, should be enough to put them over the top and put them in an AFC final against Baltimore.
For some reason, the Patriots have some real tong wars against the Ravens. If you remember correctly, it was the Ravens who gave them their toughest fight in 2007 en route to that 17-0 season.
I think it'll be a tough game here, too. But I just don't think Joe Flacco is going to stand in their way in their attempts to reach the Super Bowl.
I also think that playing, and beating, their two so-called equals en route to Indianapolis will toughen them up (if it doesn't kill them first) so that they'll give whichever team that face there (and I think it'll be New Orleans, I really do) a decent game for a while.
But I think that's where it ends, too. I really don't see how, with all other things being equal (meaning that Drew Brees and Aaron Rodgers are certainly in Brady's class), the Patriots can beat either team. The shootout advantage is certainly nullified. Brees has so many weapons at his disposal he could invade any country and win with them. It just seems to be too big a task.
So my final answer is: New Orleans over New England ... fairly comfortably.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen ... and everyone else as well
Are we all aware that for the simple positioning of a comma, the entire meaning of one of our most beloved Christmas carols would take on an entirely different meaning?
It's true. "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" is, I'm sure, in our heart of hearts of Yuletide tidings (say that 10 times fast). But it doesn't mean what we all think it means, and it's because of where the comma goes.
You see, it's not "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen ..." it's "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen."
Same words ... comma one word over.
The first version would seem to mean be at peace, merry gentlemen, as you celebrate Christmas. The second ... correct ... version leaves room for a bit of a more robust celebration. In this case, "God Rest Ye Merry" doesn't mean "be at peace" at all. It means by all means, make merry the celebration of Christmas. You know ... eat, drink, and revel in the company of your friends and families.
I have to say I like version No. 2 ... the correct ... version much better.
This is one of many Christmas carols/songs that are either misinterpreted, or that translate badly into English, or that simply make no sense at all no matter what language you're talking about.
For example. Let's discuss "The First Noel." First of all, despite the use of the word "Noel," this is actually an English carol. Which makes it even more confusing. You could excuse the obtuse lyrics if someone told you they were translated from some old French verse. But how to you explain this line: "On a Cold Winter's Night that was so deep."
OK. Are we missing a line here? What was deep? The snow? It could be, but there's no mention of snow in the song ... and if the baby Jesus was, indeed, born in Bethlehem, it doesn't snow there very often. In fact, a cursory google of Israel and weather says that it only snows regularly in Golan Heights. Bethlehem has more of a Mediterranean climate, which means generally cold and rainy winters.
So maybe the "deep" refers to the manure in the barn where the Baby Jesus was born. Who knows? Or maybe the author was trying to convey the message that the birth of Jesus was a profound event in the history of man, and, hence, very deep. But we're getting way to analytical here.
Next on the agenda to discuss is "Silent Night," which has a rather fascinating history all of its own. It was written by an Austrian priest in 1816 and set to music two years later in Oberndorf when the organ at St. Nicholas' Church broke down on Christmas Eve. It was intended to be played at Midnight Mass with a simple guitar accompaniment.
And from those humble beginnings it has become, arguably, the most beloved Christmas carols of them all.
But that's not why we're discussing it here. We're discussing it because of the line "Round Yon Virgin, Mother and Child." This has to be a case of German being translated badly into English, because I defy anyone to tell me what-all that means.
Reminds me of the story about the kid bringing home a drawing he did at school of the nativity, with the baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, sheep, shepherds, the three kings, and this grotesque, hulking figure looming in the background.
"Who's that?" the kids mother asks.
"That's Round John Virgin," the kid replied.
My guess is that "Round Yon Virgin, Mother and Child," means "behold Mary and Jesus." Can't think of what else it could mean.
Let us proceed. "Away in a Manger" actually has two tunes with the same set of lyrics for both. One is written by someone named Murry, or Mueller, and is based loosely on a Strauss waltz. The second, which is also in 3/4 times, was written by William J. Kilpatrick in 1895. And while the tunes are radically different, they actually counterpoint each other quite well.
In 1865, English writer William Chatterton Dix had a near-death experience and, as a result, was confined to months of bed rest. He wrote many hymns during that period, including one in which he put lyrics to the tune of the popular folk song "Greensleeves." That became, of course, "What Child is This," which has the distinction of being covered quite eloquently in the 1970s by Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues.
A lot of these songs are steeped in history. Did you know, for example, that "Joy to the World" was based partly on a refrain from Handel's "Messiah?" Yes, indeed. Not the entire song, perhaps, but the chorus "Let heaven and nature sing ..." was taken from the refrain "Comfort Ye" from the famous oratorio ... the same one that gave us the Hallelujah Chorus."
As Casey Stengel would say, "you could look it up." I did.
Now, speaking of odd little histories, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!" is certainly unique.
It was originally written as a somber, solemn piece of music. But it was later changed to the more majestic tune we know and love today. And much of that tune was ripped off from a piece by composer Felix Mendelssohn (who brought us the traditional wedding recessional from "A Midsummer's Night's Dream," among other things). And when Mendelssohn wrote it, it was a cantata celebrating Gutenberg's invention of the printing press.
But the first time I heard it, I thought it was about some guy named Harold.
If some of the traditional carols have roundabout histories, so do our more secular songs. "Silver Bells" was ostensibly written about hearing the Salvation Army bell-ringers that are ubiquitous in New York during the holiday season (you won't find this one in Wiki ... I heard it from a Salvation Army captain during a rotary club luncheon).
The word "Christmas" never appears in "Winter Wonderland." Yet it is one of our most enduring season songs ... at least in the Northern hemisphere.
A personal favorite here is "Sleigh Ride," by Leroy Anderson, who wrote some hundreds of light concert pieces, such as "The Syncopated Clock" and "Buggler's Holiday" that were introduced by his good friend Arthur Fiedler via the Boston Pops.
"Sleigh Ride," another piece where you'll be looking all day if you seek to find the word "Christmas" in the lyrics, wasn't even written in the winter at all. It was written as an orchestral piece during a July heat wave, with lyrics, depicting a simple generic winter scene, added later. Thus, it would appear Anderson wrote "Sleigh Ride" for the same reason I might break out the DVD to "Fargo" in the middle of August ... to simulate the feeling of being able to cool off.
If you want your head to really spin, look up the origin and explanation of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." Nobody's sure whether it's English or French, and the words are different depending upon which version you hear. In one there are twelve drummers drumming; and in another it's nine drummers drumming and twelve fiddlers fiddling.
This would generally speak to the belief that the song got its beginnings as one of those parlor games where everyone has to go around repeating all the stuff they'd heard prior until someone finally slips up.
And, of course, the simple scope of the gifts, and what receiving them would do to the poor person who receives them, has been the subject of many spoofs.
And then there's "We Three Kings of Orient Are." This is actually an American carol written in the mid 19th century by an Episcopalian priest in New York. And although the words are pretty ponderous (field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star ...) they make sense. They were written for a Christmas pageant, and they actually tell a story.
But I can never hear it without laughing, because I think kids of all ages, and all locales, learned to sing it this way: We three kings or orient are ... tried to smoke a rubber cigar ... it was loaded and exploded ..."
I know. I know. Dumb. But when you're 11, dumb is entertaining.
Finally, Christmas isn't Christmas without hearing certain songs. If I don't hear "Do You Hear What I Hear" at least once, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the holiday season is incomplete. But here's the caveat: I can hear any one of a hundred different versions of the song, but the only one I care about is Der Bingle's. There's something about Crosby and Christmas.
It's just a nice song, with a nice sentiment. But when you find out why it was written, it just punches you right in the stomach. It was written in 1962 as a plea for peace during the Cuban Missile Crisis. And its authors couldn't perform it without getting choked up because, as one of them put it, "you must realize we were under the threat of nuclear war at the time."
But when it comes to Der Bingel, his recording of "White Christmas" remains the best-selling single of all time. It was written by Irving Berlin and it pretty much symbolizes an old-fashioned Christmas the same way his "God Bless America" symbolizes patriotism (but did you know that Woody Guthrie wrote "This Land is Your Land" as a response to "God Bless America?").
What I find ironic, however, is that we all sing "White Christmas" like it's some kind of idyllic dream, yet if the weatherman even mentions the word "snow" in the days leading up to Christmas, we act as if someone snatched the Christmas pudding right out from under us.
Another "must hear:" "Father Christmas" by the Kinks, which kind of shatters the idyllic Christmas myth to smithereens and gets down to gritty reality: Leave all the toys to the little rich boys and give me money. Then there's "I Believe in Father Christmas" by Greg Lake, which speaks to a number of issues: The commercialization of the holiday and the loss of childhood innocence associated with it. Following along, we have a very eclectic selection that includes poppy pieces like "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Little St. Nick" by the Beach Boys (which Brian Wilson actually once sang during a concert in the middle of July); twisted pieces such as "Christmas Wrappings" by the Waitresses and "A Christmas Song" by Jethro Tull; and Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town."
John Lennon and Yoko Ono's "Happy Christmas, War is Over" was written and recorded in 1971, with the Harlem Boys Choir providing the backing. It was kind of a combination protest and Christmas song written as the Vietnam War was raging.
But its tune was actually taken from a traditional folk song about a racehorse called "Stewball," that was sung by, among others, Peter, Paul and Mary.
Of course, the song became an instant Christmas staple in 1980 after Lennon was shot to death in New York. The other irony: Yoko Ono sings on this record. You can hear her loud and clear. In Lennon's life, she was reviled as the "woman who broke up the Beatles," yet now, all these years later, she has emerged as an almost sympathetic figure in the group's historical dynamic.
By the time John Williams stepped down as conductor of the Boston Pops I was pretty tired of him. That's because he'd always manage to sneak one of his own compositions into just about every concert, and with such a wide and distinguished palate on which to paint, I thought he slanted his concerts with too much ego. It would be like telling Picasso he could host an art show, telling him he had access to every classic ever painted, and seeing half his cubist paintings speckle the gallery.
This doesn't mean Williams was/is a hack, or that Picasso was a bad artist. It just means that John maybe could have stepped aside once in a while and featured someone else other than himself.
Yet Williams did write one of my very favorite Christmas songs, simply called "Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas." I first heard it in the closing credits of "Home Alone 2," but the Pops usually play it during their Christmas show every year (yes, even with Keith Lockhart at the podium) and it captures the spirit of the season very well.
After today, they'll all be put in a box and kept on ice until, I don't know, next October. Radio stations and department stores seem to trot them out earlier and earlier every year, which really does nothing except defeat the purpose behind what makes them special in the first place. And while I know that the never-ending debate over whether we should even acknowledge the religious aspects of Christmas at all in public seems to be more divisive each year, there's no denying that, as music, a lot of these carols are very beautiful and peaceful, and that they reconnect you to your childhood faster than any other single thing you experience.
I hope they're around to enjoy for many years to come ... and that ever-encroaching commercialism doesn't eventually blunt completely their singular purpose in our lives.
Merry Christmas to all.
It's true. "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" is, I'm sure, in our heart of hearts of Yuletide tidings (say that 10 times fast). But it doesn't mean what we all think it means, and it's because of where the comma goes.
You see, it's not "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen ..." it's "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen."
Same words ... comma one word over.
The first version would seem to mean be at peace, merry gentlemen, as you celebrate Christmas. The second ... correct ... version leaves room for a bit of a more robust celebration. In this case, "God Rest Ye Merry" doesn't mean "be at peace" at all. It means by all means, make merry the celebration of Christmas. You know ... eat, drink, and revel in the company of your friends and families.
I have to say I like version No. 2 ... the correct ... version much better.
This is one of many Christmas carols/songs that are either misinterpreted, or that translate badly into English, or that simply make no sense at all no matter what language you're talking about.
For example. Let's discuss "The First Noel." First of all, despite the use of the word "Noel," this is actually an English carol. Which makes it even more confusing. You could excuse the obtuse lyrics if someone told you they were translated from some old French verse. But how to you explain this line: "On a Cold Winter's Night that was so deep."
OK. Are we missing a line here? What was deep? The snow? It could be, but there's no mention of snow in the song ... and if the baby Jesus was, indeed, born in Bethlehem, it doesn't snow there very often. In fact, a cursory google of Israel and weather says that it only snows regularly in Golan Heights. Bethlehem has more of a Mediterranean climate, which means generally cold and rainy winters.
So maybe the "deep" refers to the manure in the barn where the Baby Jesus was born. Who knows? Or maybe the author was trying to convey the message that the birth of Jesus was a profound event in the history of man, and, hence, very deep. But we're getting way to analytical here.
Next on the agenda to discuss is "Silent Night," which has a rather fascinating history all of its own. It was written by an Austrian priest in 1816 and set to music two years later in Oberndorf when the organ at St. Nicholas' Church broke down on Christmas Eve. It was intended to be played at Midnight Mass with a simple guitar accompaniment.
And from those humble beginnings it has become, arguably, the most beloved Christmas carols of them all.
But that's not why we're discussing it here. We're discussing it because of the line "Round Yon Virgin, Mother and Child." This has to be a case of German being translated badly into English, because I defy anyone to tell me what-all that means.
Reminds me of the story about the kid bringing home a drawing he did at school of the nativity, with the baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, sheep, shepherds, the three kings, and this grotesque, hulking figure looming in the background.
"Who's that?" the kids mother asks.
"That's Round John Virgin," the kid replied.
My guess is that "Round Yon Virgin, Mother and Child," means "behold Mary and Jesus." Can't think of what else it could mean.
Let us proceed. "Away in a Manger" actually has two tunes with the same set of lyrics for both. One is written by someone named Murry, or Mueller, and is based loosely on a Strauss waltz. The second, which is also in 3/4 times, was written by William J. Kilpatrick in 1895. And while the tunes are radically different, they actually counterpoint each other quite well.
In 1865, English writer William Chatterton Dix had a near-death experience and, as a result, was confined to months of bed rest. He wrote many hymns during that period, including one in which he put lyrics to the tune of the popular folk song "Greensleeves." That became, of course, "What Child is This," which has the distinction of being covered quite eloquently in the 1970s by Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues.
A lot of these songs are steeped in history. Did you know, for example, that "Joy to the World" was based partly on a refrain from Handel's "Messiah?" Yes, indeed. Not the entire song, perhaps, but the chorus "Let heaven and nature sing ..." was taken from the refrain "Comfort Ye" from the famous oratorio ... the same one that gave us the Hallelujah Chorus."
As Casey Stengel would say, "you could look it up." I did.
Now, speaking of odd little histories, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!" is certainly unique.
It was originally written as a somber, solemn piece of music. But it was later changed to the more majestic tune we know and love today. And much of that tune was ripped off from a piece by composer Felix Mendelssohn (who brought us the traditional wedding recessional from "A Midsummer's Night's Dream," among other things). And when Mendelssohn wrote it, it was a cantata celebrating Gutenberg's invention of the printing press.
But the first time I heard it, I thought it was about some guy named Harold.
If some of the traditional carols have roundabout histories, so do our more secular songs. "Silver Bells" was ostensibly written about hearing the Salvation Army bell-ringers that are ubiquitous in New York during the holiday season (you won't find this one in Wiki ... I heard it from a Salvation Army captain during a rotary club luncheon).
The word "Christmas" never appears in "Winter Wonderland." Yet it is one of our most enduring season songs ... at least in the Northern hemisphere.
A personal favorite here is "Sleigh Ride," by Leroy Anderson, who wrote some hundreds of light concert pieces, such as "The Syncopated Clock" and "Buggler's Holiday" that were introduced by his good friend Arthur Fiedler via the Boston Pops.
"Sleigh Ride," another piece where you'll be looking all day if you seek to find the word "Christmas" in the lyrics, wasn't even written in the winter at all. It was written as an orchestral piece during a July heat wave, with lyrics, depicting a simple generic winter scene, added later. Thus, it would appear Anderson wrote "Sleigh Ride" for the same reason I might break out the DVD to "Fargo" in the middle of August ... to simulate the feeling of being able to cool off.
If you want your head to really spin, look up the origin and explanation of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." Nobody's sure whether it's English or French, and the words are different depending upon which version you hear. In one there are twelve drummers drumming; and in another it's nine drummers drumming and twelve fiddlers fiddling.
This would generally speak to the belief that the song got its beginnings as one of those parlor games where everyone has to go around repeating all the stuff they'd heard prior until someone finally slips up.
And, of course, the simple scope of the gifts, and what receiving them would do to the poor person who receives them, has been the subject of many spoofs.
And then there's "We Three Kings of Orient Are." This is actually an American carol written in the mid 19th century by an Episcopalian priest in New York. And although the words are pretty ponderous (field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star ...) they make sense. They were written for a Christmas pageant, and they actually tell a story.
But I can never hear it without laughing, because I think kids of all ages, and all locales, learned to sing it this way: We three kings or orient are ... tried to smoke a rubber cigar ... it was loaded and exploded ..."
I know. I know. Dumb. But when you're 11, dumb is entertaining.
Finally, Christmas isn't Christmas without hearing certain songs. If I don't hear "Do You Hear What I Hear" at least once, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the holiday season is incomplete. But here's the caveat: I can hear any one of a hundred different versions of the song, but the only one I care about is Der Bingle's. There's something about Crosby and Christmas.
It's just a nice song, with a nice sentiment. But when you find out why it was written, it just punches you right in the stomach. It was written in 1962 as a plea for peace during the Cuban Missile Crisis. And its authors couldn't perform it without getting choked up because, as one of them put it, "you must realize we were under the threat of nuclear war at the time."
But when it comes to Der Bingel, his recording of "White Christmas" remains the best-selling single of all time. It was written by Irving Berlin and it pretty much symbolizes an old-fashioned Christmas the same way his "God Bless America" symbolizes patriotism (but did you know that Woody Guthrie wrote "This Land is Your Land" as a response to "God Bless America?").
What I find ironic, however, is that we all sing "White Christmas" like it's some kind of idyllic dream, yet if the weatherman even mentions the word "snow" in the days leading up to Christmas, we act as if someone snatched the Christmas pudding right out from under us.
Another "must hear:" "Father Christmas" by the Kinks, which kind of shatters the idyllic Christmas myth to smithereens and gets down to gritty reality: Leave all the toys to the little rich boys and give me money. Then there's "I Believe in Father Christmas" by Greg Lake, which speaks to a number of issues: The commercialization of the holiday and the loss of childhood innocence associated with it. Following along, we have a very eclectic selection that includes poppy pieces like "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Little St. Nick" by the Beach Boys (which Brian Wilson actually once sang during a concert in the middle of July); twisted pieces such as "Christmas Wrappings" by the Waitresses and "A Christmas Song" by Jethro Tull; and Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town."
John Lennon and Yoko Ono's "Happy Christmas, War is Over" was written and recorded in 1971, with the Harlem Boys Choir providing the backing. It was kind of a combination protest and Christmas song written as the Vietnam War was raging.
But its tune was actually taken from a traditional folk song about a racehorse called "Stewball," that was sung by, among others, Peter, Paul and Mary.
Of course, the song became an instant Christmas staple in 1980 after Lennon was shot to death in New York. The other irony: Yoko Ono sings on this record. You can hear her loud and clear. In Lennon's life, she was reviled as the "woman who broke up the Beatles," yet now, all these years later, she has emerged as an almost sympathetic figure in the group's historical dynamic.
By the time John Williams stepped down as conductor of the Boston Pops I was pretty tired of him. That's because he'd always manage to sneak one of his own compositions into just about every concert, and with such a wide and distinguished palate on which to paint, I thought he slanted his concerts with too much ego. It would be like telling Picasso he could host an art show, telling him he had access to every classic ever painted, and seeing half his cubist paintings speckle the gallery.
This doesn't mean Williams was/is a hack, or that Picasso was a bad artist. It just means that John maybe could have stepped aside once in a while and featured someone else other than himself.
Yet Williams did write one of my very favorite Christmas songs, simply called "Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas." I first heard it in the closing credits of "Home Alone 2," but the Pops usually play it during their Christmas show every year (yes, even with Keith Lockhart at the podium) and it captures the spirit of the season very well.
After today, they'll all be put in a box and kept on ice until, I don't know, next October. Radio stations and department stores seem to trot them out earlier and earlier every year, which really does nothing except defeat the purpose behind what makes them special in the first place. And while I know that the never-ending debate over whether we should even acknowledge the religious aspects of Christmas at all in public seems to be more divisive each year, there's no denying that, as music, a lot of these carols are very beautiful and peaceful, and that they reconnect you to your childhood faster than any other single thing you experience.
I hope they're around to enjoy for many years to come ... and that ever-encroaching commercialism doesn't eventually blunt completely their singular purpose in our lives.
Merry Christmas to all.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Things I could do without ...
I don't want to say these things make me angry, per se, but here are a few things I could do without if I had my choice ...
Holiday trees and holiday parties. You know what? The name of the holiday is Christmas. Or it's Hanukkah. Or Quanza. Or something else. Calling something a "Christmas Tree," or holding a "Christmas party" isn't violating anyone's constitutional rights. Nobody's going to indoctrinate you, or try to shove the religious significance of Christmas (or Hanukkah) down your throat. People just go, have a good time, swap stories, have a few drinks and good conversations, exchange gifts (perhaps), and go home.
We've run so far afield of what the U.S. Constitution says about religion and the government that we've eviscerated just about every meaningful Christmas symbol there is ... and I'm not even talking about the overtly religious ones. Santa Claus? Christmas trees? Are we serious? And is it any wonder why, in this country, we can't get a single thing done if we're spending so much time stumbling around the English language trying to find substitutes for the word "Santa" and "Christmas?"
What makes this so tough to deal with is the minute someone comes up with another sickeningly politically correct substitute for word "Christmas," the religious righties come out of their holes and start lecturing us on what horrible people we are because we've taken Christ out of Christmas.
Surely there must be a happy medium here where we can all exist without this phony angst over what we call Christmas. It's just needless nit-picking.
----------
Onward and upward.Tim Tebow. It is, of course, his right to kneel down and thank God every time he leads the Denver Broncos to another comeback victory. And he seems genuine about it.
Yet you can’t blame people who might not feel as devout about God’s role in professional sports from being a little put off by what has come to be known as “Tebowing.”
Personally, I can do without all the “Tebowing.”
Maybe I wouldn’t feel as strongly as I do on this subject if I hadn’t heard Adrian Gonzalez of the Red Sox try to say it was God’s will that the Red Sox choked up a seemingly insurmountable lead in the American League wild card last September. For as many Tim Tebows as there are, there are just as many Adrian Gonzalezs too. And perhaps with that seismic split in sentiment over God’s role in sports, maybe we’d all be better off leaving Him – in this case, at least – to the priests, theologians, and the various churches and temples we attend.
Every time I see Tebow Tebowing, I’m reminded of the parable about the Plebeian and the Pharisee in the temple. It goes something like this: A Plebeian and a Pharisee go into the temple to pray. The Pharisee (and if you read the new testament much, you know that Jesus often pointed out the Pharisees’ hypocrisy) goes right up front and starts talking about how wonderful he is, how he contributes to all these charities, and how he works mightily to spread the word of God and to keep his commandments. He even says he’s thankful he is who he is, and that he’s not a gentile, and certainly not the Plebeian at the other end of the church.
The Plebeian sits in the back says, simply, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner."
Jesus, as the Bible points out, much preferred the latter. He was not impressed with people who wore their faith on their sleeves like some kind of a cudgel or a badge. He much preferred people like the Plebeian, who acted with humility and who did the best they could to acknowledge, and work on, their imperfections.
Tebow is a great story, and no one loves a great story more than me. We could get into the whole aspect of how Tebow’s been helped immeasurably by a very good defense … very bad opponents (in terms of talent, not comportment) … and very stupid decisions on the part of the Chicago Bears. How do you run out of bounds when you lead by three points, and there’s only a minute and change to go in the game?
(Then again, as someone pointed out to me last night, “that’s when you begin to wonder whether there’s any divine intervention going on here.”)
These are facts, to be sure, but they’re not so exclusive that they should get in the way of what has been a marvelous story. This is a guy scorned by everyone from his own coach to the joker du jour on ESPN/the NFL channel/the guy down the street/every Oakland Raider fan. He finally got his chance, and – not to wear out a very shopworn cliché, but – all he’s done is win.
It’s also easy to point out that there are buckets full of quarterbacks who have led their teams in fourth-quarter comebacks, and none perhaps more famous than the guy who sits up in the booth during ever Broncos game … Mr. “The Drive” himself … John Elway.
Every good quarterback the NFL has ever seen has a cachet of fourth-quarter comebacks to his credit, from Jim Kelly to Bart Starr to Dan Marino to Kenny Stabler to Joe Montana to Peyton Manning to Tom Brady and even Eli Manning … has engineered fourth-quarter comebacks. Even Tony Romo -- the greatest quarterback never to have won even a conference title let alone a Super Bowl (he said with sarcasm) – has brought his team back in the fourth quarter.
The difference between all of them and Tebow is that regardless of how and why they got their breaks, they are classic quarterbacks in the NFL mold. Tebow is not. And that’s what makes this such a compelling story. He was thrown into the breach because the Broncos had nobody else, and – you can be sure – the sentiment was “OK, let’s give him this shot, so that when he falls flat on his face, we’ll never have to hear about him again.”
Only he hasn’t fallen flat on his face.
Just like Michael Vick was last year’s compelling NFL story, this year’s is Tim Tebow. And just to add to the irony even further, compare and contrast the two personalities. Vick … dog fighting … prison … baggage to go along with his baggage. Tebow … God.
Could there be a more striking contrast?
Still, he needs to ditch the showy demonstrations of faith lest that become the bigger story than anything he does on the field.
Yesterday, while Tebow was leading Denver to another comeback win, Matt Ryan did the same for the Atlanta Falcons. When he was asked about it afterward, Ryan simply said, "I have great teammates."
Amen.
----------
Saturday, after about three months, Occupy Boston came to an end with about the most peaceful raid you could imagine. The occupiers squatted on a piece of public property named for Rose Kennedy (which is somewhat ironic, since if there's any family in politics that likes to make its empathy with the have-nots more apparent than the Kennedys, I'd like to know who).
I have a lot of mixed feelings about Occupy Boston. A lot. But one thing I could certainly do without is the knee-jerk hate that seemed to grow the longer this movement lasted.
Here's a news bulletin: Protest ain't pretty. It never was ... and it'll never be. Sometimes, I wonder just what earth we think when we glorify such protests as the Boston Tea Party and Boston Massacre as the act of American patriots whose sacrifice helped form a country.
All of that is true, of course. The patriots did what they did at great peril to themselves, and also knowing the risk they were taking in fanning the flames of the established order (in this case, the British). But in 1770, before history had a chance to sort it all out and cast Sam Adams and Co. as the patriots they’ve grown to be, the Boston Tea Party was a blatant act of civil disobedience … a crime, actually … that was far more destructive than anything the Occupy Bostonians did.
I have no problem with people wishing the occupiers would all go home and wash up (though, to me, that was an oversimplification of the issue). And count me among those appalled at the amount of damage they did to a beautiful section of Boston greenery. That aspect of it is truly unfortunate, and one would hope that anyone among the occupiers with the means to contribute toward the Greenway’s restoration would just do so. There is such a thing as accountability.
Yet, there was ample overreaction too. One Boston newspaper’s idea of a big picture to illustrate the occupation was of a discarded hypodermic needle. No explanation. No effort to find out what the needle may have been used for. It looked like the type of needle I used every day to inject insulin into myself, and it there’s no way of knowing whether that was the case here.
Yet the insinuation, by running it, of course, is that these people were all druggies and hippies. And that’s just irresponsible (almost as irresponsible as it was to leave the needle out there in the first place).
Among the more lucid criticisms of the occupiers was that their message wasn’t clear enough. Nobody knew what they were protesting because they never articulated it.
This might come as a shock to some people, but in this age of 30-second updates and sound bytes, “articulate” means anything that can be reduced to a snippet that can be run between commercials, or something that’ll fit neatly on a scroll at the bottom of your TV screen. Either that, or a 140-words-or-less tweet.
So holding them accountable for their “lack of message” is misleading. There was just so much to protest that it wasn’t possible to capsulate it into the type of sound byte we've all come to expect in this era of concise communication. And even if they tried to expound on their unrest, let’s be honest. After about a minute, people today stop listening.
I'm sure if I had to stumble around them every day I'd have found them more and more irritating as the time went by. Thankfully, I didn't have to. But I'm reminded that I've lived through horrendous civil rights protests where people actually got KILLED. I've lived through ugly, ugly, anti-Vietnam War protests that culminated in events such as Kent State, and saw public buildings bombed by radicals.
Nothing any of these protesters did came close to that.
Change isn't forged by timid people. Change comes as the result of protracted public unrest. To those who can't wrap themselves around this, do us all a favor and read your history. Nobody woke up one morning and said, "you know, slavery isn't a territorial issue, it’s not about “property,” and it isn’t a matter of states' rights; it's simply wrong on every level you can imagine." If they had, maybe we wouldn't have had to fight the Civil War over it.
And if protest meets with everyone's convenience, then it isn't much of a protest. It isn’t supposed to keep people in their comfort zones. Its very nature is to eject people from their comfort zones, and startle them as much as possible. Again, let’s read our history. We’d still be British subjects today had people such as John and Sam Adams hadn’t pushed and pushed, and ruffled feathers, and made people uncomfortable, and outraged them into action.
There’s a great scene in the play “1776” in which the members of the Continental Congress are debating the Declaration of Independence. Each passage meets with a sentiment among certain members of the congress that “the king might find that offensive.”
Finally, John Adams throws his hands up in disgust.
“Good GOD,” he cries out. “This is a revolution. We have to offend SOMEBODY.”
----------
Finally … are we getting a little carried away with an excessive reliance on “zero tolerance” as a panacea for all that ails us?
I can see cases where it’s absolutely necessary. There should be, for example, zero tolerance on matters of bullying, taunting, helmet-to-helmet hits in football, swinging your stick wildly in hockey, beanballs in baseball, and hard, flagrant fouls in basketball.
Any action, in any arena, designed specifically to hurt, humiliate or intimidate defenseless people should never be tolerated, and shame on anyone who would possibly disagree with that.
But sometimes, in our zeal to be fair, we really get in the way. I counted at least four penalties in Sunday’s Redskins-Patriots game that were just idiotic, and just so you know where I’m coming from, half of them were called on Washington.
But the reason for writing this comes from an incident in Massachusetts during the high school Super Bowls. In one game, a kid from Cathedral High School was running, unabated and unmolested, for the go-ahead touchdown when he, for a moment, pumped his fist in the air. He didn’t aim it at anyone, didn’t turn to look at anyone, he was just genuinely happy that he was putting his team ahead in the game.
He was flagged for unsportsmanlike conduct and the touchdown was taken off the board (per a new rule that makes such penalties spot fouls as opposed to dead-ball fouls, which are assessed on the next play). The kid threw an interception on the next play, and even though there were six minutes to go in the game (which is, in high school football, constitutes more than half of the fourth quarter), Cathedral could never recover and lost the game.
What did the kid do that was so wrong? He didn’t taunt anybody. The display of joy wasn’t excessive (he may have had his hand up for two strides before dropping it back down). And it just seems that this is one case where you’re penalizing natural human reaction as opposed to orchestrated, intentional bad sportsmanship. And to me, that is wrong.
Of course, there IS another side. The first one is that these teams were warned repeatedly that anything that even remotely seemed like excessive celebrating – especially while the play was still going on – would be subject to a spot foul penalty. They all knew that going in … or should have known.
The second one is that the boy in question had already been assessed an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty earlier in the game. So it’s quite possible the referee was keeping an extra eye on him and gave him no wiggle room when he showed his momentary lapse of judgment on this play.
Still, there’s a difference between being a bully on the field (in the manner of cheap shots or verbal taunting) and natural human exuberance. And the day we start making natural human exuberance an infraction is the day we need to blow the whole thing up and start over.
Holiday trees and holiday parties. You know what? The name of the holiday is Christmas. Or it's Hanukkah. Or Quanza. Or something else. Calling something a "Christmas Tree," or holding a "Christmas party" isn't violating anyone's constitutional rights. Nobody's going to indoctrinate you, or try to shove the religious significance of Christmas (or Hanukkah) down your throat. People just go, have a good time, swap stories, have a few drinks and good conversations, exchange gifts (perhaps), and go home.
We've run so far afield of what the U.S. Constitution says about religion and the government that we've eviscerated just about every meaningful Christmas symbol there is ... and I'm not even talking about the overtly religious ones. Santa Claus? Christmas trees? Are we serious? And is it any wonder why, in this country, we can't get a single thing done if we're spending so much time stumbling around the English language trying to find substitutes for the word "Santa" and "Christmas?"
What makes this so tough to deal with is the minute someone comes up with another sickeningly politically correct substitute for word "Christmas," the religious righties come out of their holes and start lecturing us on what horrible people we are because we've taken Christ out of Christmas.
Surely there must be a happy medium here where we can all exist without this phony angst over what we call Christmas. It's just needless nit-picking.
----------
Onward and upward.Tim Tebow. It is, of course, his right to kneel down and thank God every time he leads the Denver Broncos to another comeback victory. And he seems genuine about it.
Yet you can’t blame people who might not feel as devout about God’s role in professional sports from being a little put off by what has come to be known as “Tebowing.”
Personally, I can do without all the “Tebowing.”
Maybe I wouldn’t feel as strongly as I do on this subject if I hadn’t heard Adrian Gonzalez of the Red Sox try to say it was God’s will that the Red Sox choked up a seemingly insurmountable lead in the American League wild card last September. For as many Tim Tebows as there are, there are just as many Adrian Gonzalezs too. And perhaps with that seismic split in sentiment over God’s role in sports, maybe we’d all be better off leaving Him – in this case, at least – to the priests, theologians, and the various churches and temples we attend.
Every time I see Tebow Tebowing, I’m reminded of the parable about the Plebeian and the Pharisee in the temple. It goes something like this: A Plebeian and a Pharisee go into the temple to pray. The Pharisee (and if you read the new testament much, you know that Jesus often pointed out the Pharisees’ hypocrisy) goes right up front and starts talking about how wonderful he is, how he contributes to all these charities, and how he works mightily to spread the word of God and to keep his commandments. He even says he’s thankful he is who he is, and that he’s not a gentile, and certainly not the Plebeian at the other end of the church.
The Plebeian sits in the back says, simply, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner."
Jesus, as the Bible points out, much preferred the latter. He was not impressed with people who wore their faith on their sleeves like some kind of a cudgel or a badge. He much preferred people like the Plebeian, who acted with humility and who did the best they could to acknowledge, and work on, their imperfections.
Tebow is a great story, and no one loves a great story more than me. We could get into the whole aspect of how Tebow’s been helped immeasurably by a very good defense … very bad opponents (in terms of talent, not comportment) … and very stupid decisions on the part of the Chicago Bears. How do you run out of bounds when you lead by three points, and there’s only a minute and change to go in the game?
(Then again, as someone pointed out to me last night, “that’s when you begin to wonder whether there’s any divine intervention going on here.”)
These are facts, to be sure, but they’re not so exclusive that they should get in the way of what has been a marvelous story. This is a guy scorned by everyone from his own coach to the joker du jour on ESPN/the NFL channel/the guy down the street/every Oakland Raider fan. He finally got his chance, and – not to wear out a very shopworn cliché, but – all he’s done is win.
It’s also easy to point out that there are buckets full of quarterbacks who have led their teams in fourth-quarter comebacks, and none perhaps more famous than the guy who sits up in the booth during ever Broncos game … Mr. “The Drive” himself … John Elway.
Every good quarterback the NFL has ever seen has a cachet of fourth-quarter comebacks to his credit, from Jim Kelly to Bart Starr to Dan Marino to Kenny Stabler to Joe Montana to Peyton Manning to Tom Brady and even Eli Manning … has engineered fourth-quarter comebacks. Even Tony Romo -- the greatest quarterback never to have won even a conference title let alone a Super Bowl (he said with sarcasm) – has brought his team back in the fourth quarter.
The difference between all of them and Tebow is that regardless of how and why they got their breaks, they are classic quarterbacks in the NFL mold. Tebow is not. And that’s what makes this such a compelling story. He was thrown into the breach because the Broncos had nobody else, and – you can be sure – the sentiment was “OK, let’s give him this shot, so that when he falls flat on his face, we’ll never have to hear about him again.”
Only he hasn’t fallen flat on his face.
Just like Michael Vick was last year’s compelling NFL story, this year’s is Tim Tebow. And just to add to the irony even further, compare and contrast the two personalities. Vick … dog fighting … prison … baggage to go along with his baggage. Tebow … God.
Could there be a more striking contrast?
Still, he needs to ditch the showy demonstrations of faith lest that become the bigger story than anything he does on the field.
Yesterday, while Tebow was leading Denver to another comeback win, Matt Ryan did the same for the Atlanta Falcons. When he was asked about it afterward, Ryan simply said, "I have great teammates."
Amen.
----------
Saturday, after about three months, Occupy Boston came to an end with about the most peaceful raid you could imagine. The occupiers squatted on a piece of public property named for Rose Kennedy (which is somewhat ironic, since if there's any family in politics that likes to make its empathy with the have-nots more apparent than the Kennedys, I'd like to know who).
I have a lot of mixed feelings about Occupy Boston. A lot. But one thing I could certainly do without is the knee-jerk hate that seemed to grow the longer this movement lasted.
Here's a news bulletin: Protest ain't pretty. It never was ... and it'll never be. Sometimes, I wonder just what earth we think when we glorify such protests as the Boston Tea Party and Boston Massacre as the act of American patriots whose sacrifice helped form a country.
All of that is true, of course. The patriots did what they did at great peril to themselves, and also knowing the risk they were taking in fanning the flames of the established order (in this case, the British). But in 1770, before history had a chance to sort it all out and cast Sam Adams and Co. as the patriots they’ve grown to be, the Boston Tea Party was a blatant act of civil disobedience … a crime, actually … that was far more destructive than anything the Occupy Bostonians did.
I have no problem with people wishing the occupiers would all go home and wash up (though, to me, that was an oversimplification of the issue). And count me among those appalled at the amount of damage they did to a beautiful section of Boston greenery. That aspect of it is truly unfortunate, and one would hope that anyone among the occupiers with the means to contribute toward the Greenway’s restoration would just do so. There is such a thing as accountability.
Yet, there was ample overreaction too. One Boston newspaper’s idea of a big picture to illustrate the occupation was of a discarded hypodermic needle. No explanation. No effort to find out what the needle may have been used for. It looked like the type of needle I used every day to inject insulin into myself, and it there’s no way of knowing whether that was the case here.
Yet the insinuation, by running it, of course, is that these people were all druggies and hippies. And that’s just irresponsible (almost as irresponsible as it was to leave the needle out there in the first place).
Among the more lucid criticisms of the occupiers was that their message wasn’t clear enough. Nobody knew what they were protesting because they never articulated it.
This might come as a shock to some people, but in this age of 30-second updates and sound bytes, “articulate” means anything that can be reduced to a snippet that can be run between commercials, or something that’ll fit neatly on a scroll at the bottom of your TV screen. Either that, or a 140-words-or-less tweet.
So holding them accountable for their “lack of message” is misleading. There was just so much to protest that it wasn’t possible to capsulate it into the type of sound byte we've all come to expect in this era of concise communication. And even if they tried to expound on their unrest, let’s be honest. After about a minute, people today stop listening.
I'm sure if I had to stumble around them every day I'd have found them more and more irritating as the time went by. Thankfully, I didn't have to. But I'm reminded that I've lived through horrendous civil rights protests where people actually got KILLED. I've lived through ugly, ugly, anti-Vietnam War protests that culminated in events such as Kent State, and saw public buildings bombed by radicals.
Nothing any of these protesters did came close to that.
Change isn't forged by timid people. Change comes as the result of protracted public unrest. To those who can't wrap themselves around this, do us all a favor and read your history. Nobody woke up one morning and said, "you know, slavery isn't a territorial issue, it’s not about “property,” and it isn’t a matter of states' rights; it's simply wrong on every level you can imagine." If they had, maybe we wouldn't have had to fight the Civil War over it.
And if protest meets with everyone's convenience, then it isn't much of a protest. It isn’t supposed to keep people in their comfort zones. Its very nature is to eject people from their comfort zones, and startle them as much as possible. Again, let’s read our history. We’d still be British subjects today had people such as John and Sam Adams hadn’t pushed and pushed, and ruffled feathers, and made people uncomfortable, and outraged them into action.
There’s a great scene in the play “1776” in which the members of the Continental Congress are debating the Declaration of Independence. Each passage meets with a sentiment among certain members of the congress that “the king might find that offensive.”
Finally, John Adams throws his hands up in disgust.
“Good GOD,” he cries out. “This is a revolution. We have to offend SOMEBODY.”
----------
Finally … are we getting a little carried away with an excessive reliance on “zero tolerance” as a panacea for all that ails us?
I can see cases where it’s absolutely necessary. There should be, for example, zero tolerance on matters of bullying, taunting, helmet-to-helmet hits in football, swinging your stick wildly in hockey, beanballs in baseball, and hard, flagrant fouls in basketball.
Any action, in any arena, designed specifically to hurt, humiliate or intimidate defenseless people should never be tolerated, and shame on anyone who would possibly disagree with that.
But sometimes, in our zeal to be fair, we really get in the way. I counted at least four penalties in Sunday’s Redskins-Patriots game that were just idiotic, and just so you know where I’m coming from, half of them were called on Washington.
But the reason for writing this comes from an incident in Massachusetts during the high school Super Bowls. In one game, a kid from Cathedral High School was running, unabated and unmolested, for the go-ahead touchdown when he, for a moment, pumped his fist in the air. He didn’t aim it at anyone, didn’t turn to look at anyone, he was just genuinely happy that he was putting his team ahead in the game.
He was flagged for unsportsmanlike conduct and the touchdown was taken off the board (per a new rule that makes such penalties spot fouls as opposed to dead-ball fouls, which are assessed on the next play). The kid threw an interception on the next play, and even though there were six minutes to go in the game (which is, in high school football, constitutes more than half of the fourth quarter), Cathedral could never recover and lost the game.
What did the kid do that was so wrong? He didn’t taunt anybody. The display of joy wasn’t excessive (he may have had his hand up for two strides before dropping it back down). And it just seems that this is one case where you’re penalizing natural human reaction as opposed to orchestrated, intentional bad sportsmanship. And to me, that is wrong.
Of course, there IS another side. The first one is that these teams were warned repeatedly that anything that even remotely seemed like excessive celebrating – especially while the play was still going on – would be subject to a spot foul penalty. They all knew that going in … or should have known.
The second one is that the boy in question had already been assessed an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty earlier in the game. So it’s quite possible the referee was keeping an extra eye on him and gave him no wiggle room when he showed his momentary lapse of judgment on this play.
Still, there’s a difference between being a bully on the field (in the manner of cheap shots or verbal taunting) and natural human exuberance. And the day we start making natural human exuberance an infraction is the day we need to blow the whole thing up and start over.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
A mixed bag of observations ...
An extremely eclectic mixed bag of observations today … all over the board, as it were …
To begin, I don’t like Bobby Valentine and never did. There’s a difference in this world between someone who is genuinely charismatic (such as Bill Parcells) and a huckster.
I’d put Bobby V in the second category. Bobby V’s only concern in life is Bobby V.
Whatever problems that Red Sox clubhouse had in September will not be solved by Valentine’s presence. In fact, he might create a few more. People can say what they want about Terry Francona, but whatever he did worked for eight years and five months before it went sour in the final month of his final year here. That would lead me to believe it was the athletes, and not the manager, who caused the problem.
Francona had an air about him that said “as bad as things seem, we have ’em under control.” Maybe he underestimated the size and depth of the problems last September, but it was the only time in eight years that he did. The rest of the time, his reassuring steady hand was a stabilizing force in that lockerroom.
If it’s between you and Valentine, expect to be run over by a Peter Pan. Because he’ll throw you under it as fast as he can roll you over.
It’s going to be an interesting two years.
----------
I really don’t care about the NBA all that much unless it looks like the Celtics are going to do well. That said, however, one of the things I’d have missed if there wasn’t an NBA season was Doc Rivers.
Doc is the antithesis of Bobby Valentine and Bill Belichick … two guys who, I think, have begun to believe that they were put on this earth to reinvent their respective games (in Valentine’s case, he came out of the womb believing that).
Doc seems to be an even-tempered guy … most of the time. He doesn’t exist for his own self-aggrandizement. He doesn’t believe he walks on water. If you ask him a question, he can give you a civil, insightful answer without making it appear that you’re the dumbest person on earth (as opposed to the way Belichick took a reporter apart the other day for asking whether you can accurately gauge your group of guys if they manhandles the worst team in the league).
Yet there’s no doubt Doc gets his point across when he needs to. Nobody ever accuses Doc of being a “players’ coach,” or of coddling and enabling the troops.
Last spring, when it looked as if Rivers might call it a day here, there were plenty of fans and reporters who really dreaded that decision. And we were all happy that he reconsidered and re-upped.
So if no one else has put it this bluntly: Welcome back, Doc.
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Like I said … eclectic …
Back in the day, Barney Frank was one of the most entertaining figures in politics. Even as far back as when he was a state legislator, Frank had a fiercely caustic wit. He could cut you, and you wouldn’t even know you were bleeding until after he wiped the blood off the knife and put it back into the drawer.
His style certainly belied the image of the namby-pamby liberal who was too weak-willed, or lacked testosterone, to fight his battles in the big, bad world of politics.
But Barney always did what he did with joy and élan. You never got the sense that he felt what he did was drudgery, or that he felt the huge albatross of obligation each day he got out of bed. He took on every battle with gusto, and if he was going to go down, he was going to go down in a blaze of glory.
Last November, he survived – barely by his previous standards – a re-election fight against Sean Bielat, a U.S. Marine veteran and a businessman. He won re-election by 11 percent, and the margin, lower than his customary blowouts, could be attributed to the fact that the Republicans targeted him as Public Enemy No. 1 in the 2008 financial meltdown for arguing against implementing stronger oversight over Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac. At the time, Frank said that neither mortgage giant was in any difficulty.
Hindsight being what it is, it’s obvious Frank was wrong. And politics being what they are, it's obvious Frank was not going to come out of this unscathed. Whether that’s fair or unfair isn’t the point. It’s an issue on which he was fair game for debate and interpretation.
He didn’t like it. His acceptance speech reflected his dislike for the attacks that Bielat and the Republicans leveled against him. It was obvious, listening to him that night, that the fun had gone out of it for him. And for a guy like Frank, who delighted in the byplay that makes politics such a spectator sport sometimes, that was a bad sign.
I don’t know what’s going to happen now that he’s stepped down. Times are changing, even here in the People’s Republic of Massachusetts. No one could have predicted Scott Brown would now be occupying the seat in the Senate that Ted Kennedy had for 47 years. It’s hard – even now – to wrap yourself around the fact that Massachusetts’ best shot at making Brown a one-term senator (well, not EVEN a one-term senator) rests in Elizabeth Warren, who certainly has the chops to do it, but is still – in the world of Massachusetts politics – a virtual unknown.
But I think it was time for Frank to walk away. It’s obvious he doesn’t have the stomach for it anymore. And when that happens, especially in politics, it’s time to go.
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I got into a discussion with a friend the other night about music, and how much it bothered me that entertainers like Ricky Nelson made rock ‘n’ roll “acceptable” to parents of 50s and 60s teenagers, whereas guys like Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, and the scores of African-American entertainers who pioneered the whole R&B movement struck fear and terror in the hearts and minds of adults.
The discussion allowed me to articulate a feeling I’ve always had … and one that I’ve never been able to define. And that’s this: When I was a teenager, I didn’t like entertainers who tried to water down my music so that my mother and father would like it. In fact, I couldn’t stand them.
And I couldn’t stand Ricky Nelson, who was a principal villain in that regard.
I figure if I’m going to like something, I don’t need it “dumbed down” or cleaned up for me to relate to it. Either I like it, or I don’t. Either it speaks to me or it doesn’t. I don’t need the help. And I would also hope that any kid today would be just as horrified as I was at that age when someone like Arthur Fiedler tried to make "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" legitimate by having the Boston Pops record it. Hey, Arthur, I liked you a lot. But stick to playing Beethoven and leave rock 'n' roll to the experts. OK?
A few years ago, a friend’s son decided he was going to “open my eyes” By playing an Ozzy Osbourne CD while I was visiting. I think he thought I was going to recoil in horror, and that he’d, as a result, have a pretty good laugh at my expense.
Well, he picked the wrong guy that night. I’m not saying I knew every song, but I did have an appreciation for Ozzy and that genre. Why? Because I grew up listening to Alice Cooper. And for his time, Vincent Furnier was MUCH more daring and controversial (not to mention FUN) than Ozzy was in his. In fact, I thought Ozzy rather tame by comparison.
I think of Ricky Nelson and I think of all the white artists back in those days who shamefully exploited the African-Americans who could play, write, and sing rings around them.
Years later, I saw Nelson on the Boston Common, with the Stone Canyon Band, and it was the first time I realized he had any talent. I was so used to hating him for the fact that his father shoved him down our throats at the end of all those Ozzie and Harriet shows (props to him, also, for the brilliant “Garden Party,” in which he pretty much acknowledged that the only person he was into pleasing by then was himself).
Here’s where I am: I don’t really know, or like, a lot of today’s music. But I also think these things run in cycles, and right now we’re not in a very good one.
But at the same time, I think people around my age (58) also have to understand that popular culture isn’t designed for us. We had our time.
And what a time it was. The 1960s and early 1970s may have been the perfect confluence of popular culture and current events. But I’m not sure I’d even want to experience all the elements that made that such a special time, culturally, again. We’re talking about four significant U.S. assassinations in five years (JFK, Malcolm X, MLK and RFK), an unpopular (some would say immoral) war, a political shift that allowed Richard Nixon to ascent to the White House, and, ultimately, the vision of our nation’s military opening fire on its own citizens as if they were marching in Tiananmen Square in Beijing instead of Kent State University in Ohio.
Who wants to go through that again?
So to me, it’s understandable if boomers look down their noses at today’s popular culture. It’s taken a deep plunge, and there are so many reasons why … the biggest being that there just isn’t the awareness, or the passion, or even the interest in making ourselves heard these days. People just seem to blithely go along. That’s one reason why the “Occupy” movement caught on. Finally, there were people who refused to blithely go along.
In many ways, some of the more controversial rap songs (a genre that I can’t warm up to) from a few years ago reflected that restlessness, but in a rawer, more aggressive way. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young recounted their angst in four-party harmony. Rappers reflect theirs to the incessant pounding of drums and by shouting out the lyrics. I prefer the former, but I get the latter.
I just don’t care for it.
But the only thing that would make it worse would be for some Pat Boone/Justin Beiber type to get up there and start singing rap, boy-band style. That’s just insulting. And to me, that’s what listening to Ricky Nelson sing Fats Domino’s “Walkin’” was. Insulting.
To begin, I don’t like Bobby Valentine and never did. There’s a difference in this world between someone who is genuinely charismatic (such as Bill Parcells) and a huckster.
I’d put Bobby V in the second category. Bobby V’s only concern in life is Bobby V.
Whatever problems that Red Sox clubhouse had in September will not be solved by Valentine’s presence. In fact, he might create a few more. People can say what they want about Terry Francona, but whatever he did worked for eight years and five months before it went sour in the final month of his final year here. That would lead me to believe it was the athletes, and not the manager, who caused the problem.
Francona had an air about him that said “as bad as things seem, we have ’em under control.” Maybe he underestimated the size and depth of the problems last September, but it was the only time in eight years that he did. The rest of the time, his reassuring steady hand was a stabilizing force in that lockerroom.
If it’s between you and Valentine, expect to be run over by a Peter Pan. Because he’ll throw you under it as fast as he can roll you over.
It’s going to be an interesting two years.
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I really don’t care about the NBA all that much unless it looks like the Celtics are going to do well. That said, however, one of the things I’d have missed if there wasn’t an NBA season was Doc Rivers.
Doc is the antithesis of Bobby Valentine and Bill Belichick … two guys who, I think, have begun to believe that they were put on this earth to reinvent their respective games (in Valentine’s case, he came out of the womb believing that).
Doc seems to be an even-tempered guy … most of the time. He doesn’t exist for his own self-aggrandizement. He doesn’t believe he walks on water. If you ask him a question, he can give you a civil, insightful answer without making it appear that you’re the dumbest person on earth (as opposed to the way Belichick took a reporter apart the other day for asking whether you can accurately gauge your group of guys if they manhandles the worst team in the league).
Yet there’s no doubt Doc gets his point across when he needs to. Nobody ever accuses Doc of being a “players’ coach,” or of coddling and enabling the troops.
Last spring, when it looked as if Rivers might call it a day here, there were plenty of fans and reporters who really dreaded that decision. And we were all happy that he reconsidered and re-upped.
So if no one else has put it this bluntly: Welcome back, Doc.
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Like I said … eclectic …
Back in the day, Barney Frank was one of the most entertaining figures in politics. Even as far back as when he was a state legislator, Frank had a fiercely caustic wit. He could cut you, and you wouldn’t even know you were bleeding until after he wiped the blood off the knife and put it back into the drawer.
His style certainly belied the image of the namby-pamby liberal who was too weak-willed, or lacked testosterone, to fight his battles in the big, bad world of politics.
But Barney always did what he did with joy and élan. You never got the sense that he felt what he did was drudgery, or that he felt the huge albatross of obligation each day he got out of bed. He took on every battle with gusto, and if he was going to go down, he was going to go down in a blaze of glory.
Last November, he survived – barely by his previous standards – a re-election fight against Sean Bielat, a U.S. Marine veteran and a businessman. He won re-election by 11 percent, and the margin, lower than his customary blowouts, could be attributed to the fact that the Republicans targeted him as Public Enemy No. 1 in the 2008 financial meltdown for arguing against implementing stronger oversight over Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac. At the time, Frank said that neither mortgage giant was in any difficulty.
Hindsight being what it is, it’s obvious Frank was wrong. And politics being what they are, it's obvious Frank was not going to come out of this unscathed. Whether that’s fair or unfair isn’t the point. It’s an issue on which he was fair game for debate and interpretation.
He didn’t like it. His acceptance speech reflected his dislike for the attacks that Bielat and the Republicans leveled against him. It was obvious, listening to him that night, that the fun had gone out of it for him. And for a guy like Frank, who delighted in the byplay that makes politics such a spectator sport sometimes, that was a bad sign.
I don’t know what’s going to happen now that he’s stepped down. Times are changing, even here in the People’s Republic of Massachusetts. No one could have predicted Scott Brown would now be occupying the seat in the Senate that Ted Kennedy had for 47 years. It’s hard – even now – to wrap yourself around the fact that Massachusetts’ best shot at making Brown a one-term senator (well, not EVEN a one-term senator) rests in Elizabeth Warren, who certainly has the chops to do it, but is still – in the world of Massachusetts politics – a virtual unknown.
But I think it was time for Frank to walk away. It’s obvious he doesn’t have the stomach for it anymore. And when that happens, especially in politics, it’s time to go.
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I got into a discussion with a friend the other night about music, and how much it bothered me that entertainers like Ricky Nelson made rock ‘n’ roll “acceptable” to parents of 50s and 60s teenagers, whereas guys like Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, and the scores of African-American entertainers who pioneered the whole R&B movement struck fear and terror in the hearts and minds of adults.
The discussion allowed me to articulate a feeling I’ve always had … and one that I’ve never been able to define. And that’s this: When I was a teenager, I didn’t like entertainers who tried to water down my music so that my mother and father would like it. In fact, I couldn’t stand them.
And I couldn’t stand Ricky Nelson, who was a principal villain in that regard.
I figure if I’m going to like something, I don’t need it “dumbed down” or cleaned up for me to relate to it. Either I like it, or I don’t. Either it speaks to me or it doesn’t. I don’t need the help. And I would also hope that any kid today would be just as horrified as I was at that age when someone like Arthur Fiedler tried to make "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" legitimate by having the Boston Pops record it. Hey, Arthur, I liked you a lot. But stick to playing Beethoven and leave rock 'n' roll to the experts. OK?
A few years ago, a friend’s son decided he was going to “open my eyes” By playing an Ozzy Osbourne CD while I was visiting. I think he thought I was going to recoil in horror, and that he’d, as a result, have a pretty good laugh at my expense.
Well, he picked the wrong guy that night. I’m not saying I knew every song, but I did have an appreciation for Ozzy and that genre. Why? Because I grew up listening to Alice Cooper. And for his time, Vincent Furnier was MUCH more daring and controversial (not to mention FUN) than Ozzy was in his. In fact, I thought Ozzy rather tame by comparison.
I think of Ricky Nelson and I think of all the white artists back in those days who shamefully exploited the African-Americans who could play, write, and sing rings around them.
Years later, I saw Nelson on the Boston Common, with the Stone Canyon Band, and it was the first time I realized he had any talent. I was so used to hating him for the fact that his father shoved him down our throats at the end of all those Ozzie and Harriet shows (props to him, also, for the brilliant “Garden Party,” in which he pretty much acknowledged that the only person he was into pleasing by then was himself).
Here’s where I am: I don’t really know, or like, a lot of today’s music. But I also think these things run in cycles, and right now we’re not in a very good one.
But at the same time, I think people around my age (58) also have to understand that popular culture isn’t designed for us. We had our time.
And what a time it was. The 1960s and early 1970s may have been the perfect confluence of popular culture and current events. But I’m not sure I’d even want to experience all the elements that made that such a special time, culturally, again. We’re talking about four significant U.S. assassinations in five years (JFK, Malcolm X, MLK and RFK), an unpopular (some would say immoral) war, a political shift that allowed Richard Nixon to ascent to the White House, and, ultimately, the vision of our nation’s military opening fire on its own citizens as if they were marching in Tiananmen Square in Beijing instead of Kent State University in Ohio.
Who wants to go through that again?
So to me, it’s understandable if boomers look down their noses at today’s popular culture. It’s taken a deep plunge, and there are so many reasons why … the biggest being that there just isn’t the awareness, or the passion, or even the interest in making ourselves heard these days. People just seem to blithely go along. That’s one reason why the “Occupy” movement caught on. Finally, there were people who refused to blithely go along.
In many ways, some of the more controversial rap songs (a genre that I can’t warm up to) from a few years ago reflected that restlessness, but in a rawer, more aggressive way. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young recounted their angst in four-party harmony. Rappers reflect theirs to the incessant pounding of drums and by shouting out the lyrics. I prefer the former, but I get the latter.
I just don’t care for it.
But the only thing that would make it worse would be for some Pat Boone/Justin Beiber type to get up there and start singing rap, boy-band style. That’s just insulting. And to me, that’s what listening to Ricky Nelson sing Fats Domino’s “Walkin’” was. Insulting.
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