From 1982 to 2007, I lived in Tucson, Arizona. If you're a sports junkie like myself, and you live in Tucson, there is only one game in town, the University of Arizona Wildcats. During most of that period, I got to experience the era of Lute Olson basketball, as the U of A became a national power, garnering four Final Four appearances and one national championship.
As much as I may have enjoyed UA basketball, my true love was football. Since my first season in 1982, right up until I moved to Phoenix in 2007, I went to at least one game, and usually more. I often had season tickets, and watched the Wildcats tear my heart out every season.
The U of A plays in the Pacific 10 conference. The winner of the conference plays in the Rose Bowl, and since the Wildcats entered the conference, they are the only team to never play in the Rose Bowl game. They have been close, tantalizingly close, but they have never made it. There was the Desert Swarm team of the early 90's, the team of Tedy Bruschi, which came close, but blew a big lead in a game against Cal which lost them the conference, and had to console itself with a New Year's Day whipping of Miami in the Fiesta Bowl. Then there was the equally dominant team of Chris McAlister in the late 90's, a team that, but for a fourth quarter meltdown against UCLA, would have gone undefeated and made the Rose Bowl. Instead, that team went to the Holiday Bowl in San Diego and beat Nebraska.
After that, the Wildcats imploded. Long-time coach Dick Tomey was run out of town, his replacement, John Mackovic, was an unmitigated disaster. The school then hired Mike Stoops to helm the football team, on the assumption that he would be a carbon copy of his brother, Bob, the head coack at Oklahoma. It hasn't quite worked out that way.
It's been a hard road for Stoops. He inherited a program in shambles, and has built it back to some semblance of respectability. His recruiting ability has been exceptional. His in-game coaching, however, leaves something to be desired. He's something of a loose cannon, and can often be seen screaming on the sidelines at his players, his coaches, or the refs. If he gets a lead, he then goes into a conservative, play-not-to-lose shell, and that more often than not leads to disaster.
Last year, Stoops led the Wildcats to their first bowl game in ten years, as the Wildcats went to the Las Vegas Bowl, and came out with a victory. This year, they found themselves at 6-3 last night, in second place in the conference, and able to win the conference and go to the Rose Bowl if they won out their last three games, starting with last night's game at home against the conference-leading Oregon Ducks.
The Wildcats would have, should have, could have won last night's game. They played toe to toe with Oregon all night long, they put up 41 total points, and led 31-24 with four minutes left in the game. They stuffed Oregon on fourth down, and took over in excellent field position. All that was left was a couple of first downs and a field goal to ice the game. Yeah, right. Instead, quarterback Nick Foles threw a desperation pass into the end zone, which glanced off his receiver's hands into the arms of a defender for an interception. Oregon marched down the field, converted twice on fourth down, and scored the tying touchdown with six seconds left. Sheesh.
The Ducks scored in the first overtime, as did the Wildcats, but instead of going for the win right then and there with a two-point conversion, Stoops opted to tie the game and go into a second overtime, which is where Oregon won the game. I am heartsick. Looking back, the following things occurred in this game:
---Oregon fumbled twice in the first half, and despite an Arizona defender being right there to pick up the ball, the Ducks recovered.
---Arizona was driving for a first quarter touchdown, when the receiver fumbled the ball at the two, once again an Arizona player was right there, but the ball ended up on the arms of an Oregon defender.
---Early in the third quarter, Arizona missed a chip shot field goal, after they had made a 47 yarder to end the first half.
---Late in the fourth quarter, an Arizona defender dropped a sure interception. Oregon ended up trying for a field goal, the low kick hit the crossbar, bounced up in the air, and fell over the bar for a field goal.
It was sickening. It's bad enough to get beat, but when luck and every bounce goes the other team's way, it is heart-breaking. If any one of those things mentioned above happened differently, the game would have most likely turned out differently.
Instead, the Wildcats lost again. They broke my heart again. Their Rose Bowl hopes were dashed by a bunch of Ducks. From Oregon. Quack, quack.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
My ten favorite scary scenes in horror movies
Happy Halloween. To celebrate, here is a list of my ten favorite scary scenes in horror movies, not in any particular order. Beware of spoilers, since I can't make this list without revealing some.
1. I have to start this list with the granddaddy of them all, so my numero uno is the legendary shower scene from "Psycho." Even today, almost sixty years later, when you know what's coming and perhaps have watched the scene dozens of times, like I have, it never ceases to rivet my attention and scare me. If you watch closely, you'll see that never once does Hitchcock show the knife entering Janet Leigh's body. And that soundtrack is simply unbelieveable. In my humble opinion, the best of the best.
2. The arm coming out of the grave in "Carrie." It sounds so lame when you type the words like I just did, but really, there is no other scene in the history of cinema with the power to make you jump right out of your seat as this one. With the serene, lovely, build-up, and the sweetly innocent music on the soundtrack, this is an incredible illustration of the power of cinema.
3. The creepy little girl coming out of the TV in "The Ring." These days, it takes a lot to scare me when I watch a movie, but this was the creepiest and scariest in a movie filled with creepy, scary scenes.
4. Danny on his Big Wheel in "The Shining." For the most part, the classic scary Stephen King books just don't translate well onto the big screen, and Kubrick's film is nowhere near as scary as King's novel. But when little Danny rides his Big Wheel through the Overlook Hotel, rounds a corner, and sees those two creepy little long-dead girls, who then say "Come and play with us, Danny", man, it gets me every time.
5. "The Exorcist." I suppose you can take your pick of scary scenes from this movie, but my favorite is when Father Karras goes into the bedroom and sees the written message "Help Me" slowly materialize on Regan's chest. Much more effective than all the split pea soup/vomit scenes.
6. The first appearance of Pennywise, the Clown in "It." Like "The Shining," Stephen King's novel is far more scary than the TV mini-series, but the scene where Little Georgie chases his toy boat along the puddles in the street, then watches it go down the storm drain, only to see a creepy, scary clown down there in the drain, is scream-out-loud frightening.
7. The opening sequence of "Halloween." There are many terrifying moments in John Carpenter's classic, but it's hard to top the terrifying sequence of little Michael Myers spying on, and then massacring his older sister and her boyfriend, all shown from his point of view. A virtuoso piece of film-making.
8. The birds gathering on the playground while Tippi Hedren obliviously smokes a cigarette in "The Birds." This scene is not scary, per se, but is an excellent example of how to build suspense. We can see the birds gathering behind her, and we want to shout out to her to look out, but obviously we can't, and we can only watch as the danger ratchets up, while our heroine has no clue what's about to happen. Hitchcock was truly a master.
9. The wolf attack in "American Werewolf in London." Until this scene, the movie is light and funny and goofy. Sure, the patrons of the Slaughtered Lamb are creepy as they tell our two heroes to be aware, but it's played for laughs and hard to take seriously. And then comes the realization that Jack and David are lost on the moors, something is following them, and all of a sudden..... Truly frightening.
10. The scene in the original "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" when Miles realizes that his girlfriend, Cathy, has given in and fallen asleep and is now one of the aliens. The expression of pure horror on Miles' face is classic, and the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness is palpable.
I'm sure I've left a bunch of classic scenes out, but for now, this is my list. Hope you enjoy it.
1. I have to start this list with the granddaddy of them all, so my numero uno is the legendary shower scene from "Psycho." Even today, almost sixty years later, when you know what's coming and perhaps have watched the scene dozens of times, like I have, it never ceases to rivet my attention and scare me. If you watch closely, you'll see that never once does Hitchcock show the knife entering Janet Leigh's body. And that soundtrack is simply unbelieveable. In my humble opinion, the best of the best.
2. The arm coming out of the grave in "Carrie." It sounds so lame when you type the words like I just did, but really, there is no other scene in the history of cinema with the power to make you jump right out of your seat as this one. With the serene, lovely, build-up, and the sweetly innocent music on the soundtrack, this is an incredible illustration of the power of cinema.
3. The creepy little girl coming out of the TV in "The Ring." These days, it takes a lot to scare me when I watch a movie, but this was the creepiest and scariest in a movie filled with creepy, scary scenes.
4. Danny on his Big Wheel in "The Shining." For the most part, the classic scary Stephen King books just don't translate well onto the big screen, and Kubrick's film is nowhere near as scary as King's novel. But when little Danny rides his Big Wheel through the Overlook Hotel, rounds a corner, and sees those two creepy little long-dead girls, who then say "Come and play with us, Danny", man, it gets me every time.
5. "The Exorcist." I suppose you can take your pick of scary scenes from this movie, but my favorite is when Father Karras goes into the bedroom and sees the written message "Help Me" slowly materialize on Regan's chest. Much more effective than all the split pea soup/vomit scenes.
6. The first appearance of Pennywise, the Clown in "It." Like "The Shining," Stephen King's novel is far more scary than the TV mini-series, but the scene where Little Georgie chases his toy boat along the puddles in the street, then watches it go down the storm drain, only to see a creepy, scary clown down there in the drain, is scream-out-loud frightening.
7. The opening sequence of "Halloween." There are many terrifying moments in John Carpenter's classic, but it's hard to top the terrifying sequence of little Michael Myers spying on, and then massacring his older sister and her boyfriend, all shown from his point of view. A virtuoso piece of film-making.
8. The birds gathering on the playground while Tippi Hedren obliviously smokes a cigarette in "The Birds." This scene is not scary, per se, but is an excellent example of how to build suspense. We can see the birds gathering behind her, and we want to shout out to her to look out, but obviously we can't, and we can only watch as the danger ratchets up, while our heroine has no clue what's about to happen. Hitchcock was truly a master.
9. The wolf attack in "American Werewolf in London." Until this scene, the movie is light and funny and goofy. Sure, the patrons of the Slaughtered Lamb are creepy as they tell our two heroes to be aware, but it's played for laughs and hard to take seriously. And then comes the realization that Jack and David are lost on the moors, something is following them, and all of a sudden..... Truly frightening.
10. The scene in the original "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" when Miles realizes that his girlfriend, Cathy, has given in and fallen asleep and is now one of the aliens. The expression of pure horror on Miles' face is classic, and the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness is palpable.
I'm sure I've left a bunch of classic scenes out, but for now, this is my list. Hope you enjoy it.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Justice and Roman Polanski
Thirty years ago, Roman Polanski had vaginal and anal sex with a thirteen year-old girl. He claimed it was consensual, the victim claimed otherwise, and the law said something totally different. The law in virtually every state in this country is that a thirteen year-old child is incapable of giving consent to sexual activity due to that child's immaturity. Sex with a thirteen year-old, whether the thirteen year-old was willing or not, is a crime. It was a crime thirty years ago, and it is a crime today. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Polanski entered into a plea agreement wherein he would not be doing any jail time. He pled guilty to sexual conduct with a minor and awaited sentencing. Prior to the sentencing hearing, the judge ended up having an ex-parte communication with the prosecutor. An ex-parte communication is one made between a judge and only one of the parties to a legal action. It is not permissible under any circumstances, something which every judge and attorney is well aware. Word got out to Polanski about the ex-parte communication, and that the judge intended to reject the plea agreement because he wanted Polanski to do some jail (or prison) time. The smart thing to do would have been for Polanski's attorney to immediately file for a change of judge for cause, since the judge had an impermissible ex-parte communication with the prosecutor. It would have been no problem getting another judge, one who very well may have stayed with the original plea agreement. Instead, Polanski fled the country and has never been back.
For the last thirty years, Polanski has lived in France (which has no extradition treaty with the United States) most of the time, and Switzerland (which does have such a treaty) part of the time. Every time the authorities learned that Polanski was in Switzerland, they tried to get the paperwork in order to have him extradited back to the United States to face the charges from which he fled. But Polanski has either gotten wind of it, or never stayed in Switzerland long enough. Finally, this month, the authorities learned of Polanski's intention to go to Switzerland to receive a lifetime achievement award, and they had the extradition paperwork ready, which led to Polanski's arrest this week. He is facing extradition to the United States to face sentencing for the charge he pled to thirty years ago.
Roman Polanski has certainly led a difficult, tragic, and at times, triumphant life. He was a victim of the Holocaust as a child, and watched his mother be murdered by the Nazis. He survived that tragedy, and became a film director in his native Poland. His first great movie was "Knife in the Water," a challenging and highly enjoyable mystery/thriller. He eventually emigrated to America, and directed several highly regarded movies, including the horror classic "Rosemary's Baby" and one of the greatest crime thrillers of all time, "Chinatown."
He married a beautiful young actress/model named Sharon Tate in the late 60's, moved into a sprawling Bel Air mansion, and awaited his first child. While he was in Europe working on a movie, Sharon and some friends who were visiting her were viciously attacked and murdered by members of the Charles Manson family. The killers stabbed their victims multiple times and wrote cryptic messages in their blood. Sharon Tate pleaded with the murderers to spare her baby, but both mother and unborn child were massacred. Polanski rushed home from Europe to identify what was left of his beautiful wife.
For a number of years after that, Polanski remained in Hollywood, making movies and trying to get over the horror of the murders. His films were edgy and filled with violent images, and there was no doubt that he was using his art as a sort of catharsis. There was no denying, however, the brilliance of his artistry, which culminated with "Chinatown", which many film buffs to this day consider to be Polanski's best film and Jack Nicholson's best performance.
And then came the statutory rape of the 13 year-old girl, and Polanski's subsequent self-imposed exile. He continued to make movies from abroad, some good, some not-so good. He attained his earlier artistic heights with "The Pianist" several years ago, a Holocaust story which won him the Best Director Oscar, which of course, he was unable to personally receive. His Hollywood friends and colleagues clamored for his pardon and return to America. There was even a suggestion from a new judge (the original judge had since passed away) that he would give a fresh look to the case, and probably would not insist on jail time, which was consistent with what the victim (now a woman in her early forties) desired. But Polanski would have to voluntarily surrender himself and come to court. Unfortunately for him, he never did.
As I write this, Roman Polanski sits in a Swiss jail cell, waiting to see if he will actually be extradited to the United States. Many people, especially those on the left and in Hollywood, are screaming in indignation, claiming that an artist like Polanski, who has given so much and suffered so much, should be pardoned for something that occurred so long ago, especially since the victim herself agrees. Others are furious that the suggestion is even being made, and they insist that Polanski should be extradited and face punishment.
Certainly, Roman Polanski has suffered much personal tragedy in his life. It wasn't enough that he watched his mother be killed by the Nazi death machine and barely survived himself. No, he had to suffer the horrific murder of his young wife and his unborn child. My heart will always go out to him for that.
And I agree that Roman Polanski is a gifted and talented film director. His greatest films will live forever, and he has given us much. Nothing can take that away.
Neither of those points matter, however, in my opinion. Roman Polanski is a criminal. He took advantage of a young girl, and raped her, both vaginally and anally. He pled guilty and then fled justice, and has basically been flaunting his fugitive status, living in luxury in Europe for all these years. If one of my clients did that, you can bet that he/she would be brought back and punished severely. The same should apply to Roman Polanski, he should not get a free pass because he has experienced tragedy in his life and became a gifted film artist.
I especially feel badly for the victim in this case. The poor lady does not want to be the center of this media circus concerning an incident that happened to her three decades ago, she just wants to get on with her life. And while I sympathize with her wishes, this case is about more than that, it is bigger than just her. This is about justice, the American criminal justice system, and it is about right and wrong. It is wrong to allow Roman Polanski to get away with what he did. It is right to have him extradited back to to America to face sentencing for his crime. It just doesn't get any simpler than that.
Polanski entered into a plea agreement wherein he would not be doing any jail time. He pled guilty to sexual conduct with a minor and awaited sentencing. Prior to the sentencing hearing, the judge ended up having an ex-parte communication with the prosecutor. An ex-parte communication is one made between a judge and only one of the parties to a legal action. It is not permissible under any circumstances, something which every judge and attorney is well aware. Word got out to Polanski about the ex-parte communication, and that the judge intended to reject the plea agreement because he wanted Polanski to do some jail (or prison) time. The smart thing to do would have been for Polanski's attorney to immediately file for a change of judge for cause, since the judge had an impermissible ex-parte communication with the prosecutor. It would have been no problem getting another judge, one who very well may have stayed with the original plea agreement. Instead, Polanski fled the country and has never been back.
For the last thirty years, Polanski has lived in France (which has no extradition treaty with the United States) most of the time, and Switzerland (which does have such a treaty) part of the time. Every time the authorities learned that Polanski was in Switzerland, they tried to get the paperwork in order to have him extradited back to the United States to face the charges from which he fled. But Polanski has either gotten wind of it, or never stayed in Switzerland long enough. Finally, this month, the authorities learned of Polanski's intention to go to Switzerland to receive a lifetime achievement award, and they had the extradition paperwork ready, which led to Polanski's arrest this week. He is facing extradition to the United States to face sentencing for the charge he pled to thirty years ago.
Roman Polanski has certainly led a difficult, tragic, and at times, triumphant life. He was a victim of the Holocaust as a child, and watched his mother be murdered by the Nazis. He survived that tragedy, and became a film director in his native Poland. His first great movie was "Knife in the Water," a challenging and highly enjoyable mystery/thriller. He eventually emigrated to America, and directed several highly regarded movies, including the horror classic "Rosemary's Baby" and one of the greatest crime thrillers of all time, "Chinatown."
He married a beautiful young actress/model named Sharon Tate in the late 60's, moved into a sprawling Bel Air mansion, and awaited his first child. While he was in Europe working on a movie, Sharon and some friends who were visiting her were viciously attacked and murdered by members of the Charles Manson family. The killers stabbed their victims multiple times and wrote cryptic messages in their blood. Sharon Tate pleaded with the murderers to spare her baby, but both mother and unborn child were massacred. Polanski rushed home from Europe to identify what was left of his beautiful wife.
For a number of years after that, Polanski remained in Hollywood, making movies and trying to get over the horror of the murders. His films were edgy and filled with violent images, and there was no doubt that he was using his art as a sort of catharsis. There was no denying, however, the brilliance of his artistry, which culminated with "Chinatown", which many film buffs to this day consider to be Polanski's best film and Jack Nicholson's best performance.
And then came the statutory rape of the 13 year-old girl, and Polanski's subsequent self-imposed exile. He continued to make movies from abroad, some good, some not-so good. He attained his earlier artistic heights with "The Pianist" several years ago, a Holocaust story which won him the Best Director Oscar, which of course, he was unable to personally receive. His Hollywood friends and colleagues clamored for his pardon and return to America. There was even a suggestion from a new judge (the original judge had since passed away) that he would give a fresh look to the case, and probably would not insist on jail time, which was consistent with what the victim (now a woman in her early forties) desired. But Polanski would have to voluntarily surrender himself and come to court. Unfortunately for him, he never did.
As I write this, Roman Polanski sits in a Swiss jail cell, waiting to see if he will actually be extradited to the United States. Many people, especially those on the left and in Hollywood, are screaming in indignation, claiming that an artist like Polanski, who has given so much and suffered so much, should be pardoned for something that occurred so long ago, especially since the victim herself agrees. Others are furious that the suggestion is even being made, and they insist that Polanski should be extradited and face punishment.
Certainly, Roman Polanski has suffered much personal tragedy in his life. It wasn't enough that he watched his mother be killed by the Nazi death machine and barely survived himself. No, he had to suffer the horrific murder of his young wife and his unborn child. My heart will always go out to him for that.
And I agree that Roman Polanski is a gifted and talented film director. His greatest films will live forever, and he has given us much. Nothing can take that away.
Neither of those points matter, however, in my opinion. Roman Polanski is a criminal. He took advantage of a young girl, and raped her, both vaginally and anally. He pled guilty and then fled justice, and has basically been flaunting his fugitive status, living in luxury in Europe for all these years. If one of my clients did that, you can bet that he/she would be brought back and punished severely. The same should apply to Roman Polanski, he should not get a free pass because he has experienced tragedy in his life and became a gifted film artist.
I especially feel badly for the victim in this case. The poor lady does not want to be the center of this media circus concerning an incident that happened to her three decades ago, she just wants to get on with her life. And while I sympathize with her wishes, this case is about more than that, it is bigger than just her. This is about justice, the American criminal justice system, and it is about right and wrong. It is wrong to allow Roman Polanski to get away with what he did. It is right to have him extradited back to to America to face sentencing for his crime. It just doesn't get any simpler than that.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Pete Rose
I haven't written much about baseball this year, for the simple fact that both my teams have been awful. The Mets have been beset by injuries to their stars, and the prospects they have called up have been hopeless. After two straight years of late-season collapses, the Mets have followed it up with one of their most inept seasons in years. It's time to start all over again, blow the whole thing up. Get rid of Omar Minaya, Jerry Manuel, and all their henchman, and start the re-building process. Again.
As for the Diamondbacks, their demise is much more perplexing. It's hard to comprehend, watching their total ineptness this season, but this is basically the same team that got to the NLCS two years ago. Of course, Brandon Webb, their Cy Young-winning ace has been out all season, but the rest of the team is intact. Mark Reynolds has had a great season, Justin Upton has been great at times, and not so great at others, and Dan Haren deserves the Cy Young award, but obviously won't win it. The rest of the team has stunk. Chris Young has turned into a major head case, and there are too many guys who have played without any desire or emotion. It's been sad to watch, or not watch, as the case may be.
So, without any team to root for, and seeing that teams I despise (i.e., the Yankees, the Cardinals, etc.) are cruising along with major leads in their respective divisions, I have pretty much ignored baseball, something I don't think I've ever done before. I have, however, managed to read Pete Rose's book, "My Prison Without Bars." Now, before I get on my soapbox, let me say that I have never liked Pete Rose, not since that October afternoon when he upended Buddy Harrelson and then proceeded to beat the crap out of him (at least that's how I choose to remember it). The sprinting to first base on a walk, the barreling into Ray Fosse at home plate in the All Star game (which pretty much ended Fosse's career), and all the other Rose crap always seemed like so much BS to me. Oh, I've always admired him for his baseball skills, you can't be a true fan of the game and not appreciate his accomplishments. But I never liked the guy.
So when Rose got caught for betting on baseball, and cheating on his income taxes, and was banned from baseball, denied admission to the Hall of Fame, and did some time in a Federal prison, I shed nary a tear. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. He got what he deserved. And all these years of being banned from baseball were deserved, in my humble opinion. Why in the world should I feel sorry for Pete Rose?
The truth is, I don't feel sorry for Rose, reading his book has not changed that. But reading the book has solidified one thought I've always had about Rose, and that is that he belongs in the Hall of Fame. In my opinion, the Baseball Hall of Fame is about accomplishments on the baseball field. If you're going to bring character up as a consideration, then you better start talking about kicking Ty Cobb out of the hall. Not to mention every player who ever used drugs, whether it's steroids, greenies, cocaine, or what have you. And let's not forget the wife-beaters, and the criminals (yes, drunk driving is a crime). The truth is that character has never had anything to do with being worthy of Hall of Fame enshrinement, and should have nothing to do with it.
Pete Rose is the all-time leader in hits. He won three championship rings, and an MVP. He was a fixture in the All-Star game, and he was one of the main cogs on one of the greatest teams of all time, the Big Red Machine of the 1970's. He has the pedigree, and the intangibles. So, why is he not in?
Well, Pete Rose bet on baseball games, and that is the cardinal no-no of baseball, the one rule that, if broken, will get a player banned from the game. It's all about the integrity of the game, and the direct result of the Black Sox scandal, wherein members of the Chicago White Sox conspired to throw the 1919 World Series with some degenerate gamblers and criminals. It's why Shoeless Joe Jackson, who also has the pedigree for the Hall, will never get in.
For the longest time, Rose denied betting on baseball, but he has since come clean. If there was any doubt, all you have to do is read "My Prison Without Bars." He is forthright and honest about his betting activities. But he never bet against his team, and he never did anything to influence the outcome of a game he had bet on. The rule is iron-clad, and Rose's agreement with then-Commissioner Bart Giamatti was that he would accept a lifetime ban from the game. It would seem the case is closed, as far as that is concerned.
But the Hall of Fame question is different. The Hall of Fame is not really part of Major League Baseball, it is a museum in Cooperstown, New York. It celebrates the game and honors its greatest players. It is filled with tremendous players of questionable character, and it is incomplete without Pete Rose.
Rose deserves to be in, there is simply no question about that. His punishment for his crimes should be his continued banishment from being part of the game and earning a living in the game. That punishment should not extend to enshrinement in the Hall of Fame. Pete Rose's plaque should be there, along with Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, and Joe Morgan. His continued absence is a travesty.
As for the Diamondbacks, their demise is much more perplexing. It's hard to comprehend, watching their total ineptness this season, but this is basically the same team that got to the NLCS two years ago. Of course, Brandon Webb, their Cy Young-winning ace has been out all season, but the rest of the team is intact. Mark Reynolds has had a great season, Justin Upton has been great at times, and not so great at others, and Dan Haren deserves the Cy Young award, but obviously won't win it. The rest of the team has stunk. Chris Young has turned into a major head case, and there are too many guys who have played without any desire or emotion. It's been sad to watch, or not watch, as the case may be.
So, without any team to root for, and seeing that teams I despise (i.e., the Yankees, the Cardinals, etc.) are cruising along with major leads in their respective divisions, I have pretty much ignored baseball, something I don't think I've ever done before. I have, however, managed to read Pete Rose's book, "My Prison Without Bars." Now, before I get on my soapbox, let me say that I have never liked Pete Rose, not since that October afternoon when he upended Buddy Harrelson and then proceeded to beat the crap out of him (at least that's how I choose to remember it). The sprinting to first base on a walk, the barreling into Ray Fosse at home plate in the All Star game (which pretty much ended Fosse's career), and all the other Rose crap always seemed like so much BS to me. Oh, I've always admired him for his baseball skills, you can't be a true fan of the game and not appreciate his accomplishments. But I never liked the guy.
So when Rose got caught for betting on baseball, and cheating on his income taxes, and was banned from baseball, denied admission to the Hall of Fame, and did some time in a Federal prison, I shed nary a tear. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. He got what he deserved. And all these years of being banned from baseball were deserved, in my humble opinion. Why in the world should I feel sorry for Pete Rose?
The truth is, I don't feel sorry for Rose, reading his book has not changed that. But reading the book has solidified one thought I've always had about Rose, and that is that he belongs in the Hall of Fame. In my opinion, the Baseball Hall of Fame is about accomplishments on the baseball field. If you're going to bring character up as a consideration, then you better start talking about kicking Ty Cobb out of the hall. Not to mention every player who ever used drugs, whether it's steroids, greenies, cocaine, or what have you. And let's not forget the wife-beaters, and the criminals (yes, drunk driving is a crime). The truth is that character has never had anything to do with being worthy of Hall of Fame enshrinement, and should have nothing to do with it.
Pete Rose is the all-time leader in hits. He won three championship rings, and an MVP. He was a fixture in the All-Star game, and he was one of the main cogs on one of the greatest teams of all time, the Big Red Machine of the 1970's. He has the pedigree, and the intangibles. So, why is he not in?
Well, Pete Rose bet on baseball games, and that is the cardinal no-no of baseball, the one rule that, if broken, will get a player banned from the game. It's all about the integrity of the game, and the direct result of the Black Sox scandal, wherein members of the Chicago White Sox conspired to throw the 1919 World Series with some degenerate gamblers and criminals. It's why Shoeless Joe Jackson, who also has the pedigree for the Hall, will never get in.
For the longest time, Rose denied betting on baseball, but he has since come clean. If there was any doubt, all you have to do is read "My Prison Without Bars." He is forthright and honest about his betting activities. But he never bet against his team, and he never did anything to influence the outcome of a game he had bet on. The rule is iron-clad, and Rose's agreement with then-Commissioner Bart Giamatti was that he would accept a lifetime ban from the game. It would seem the case is closed, as far as that is concerned.
But the Hall of Fame question is different. The Hall of Fame is not really part of Major League Baseball, it is a museum in Cooperstown, New York. It celebrates the game and honors its greatest players. It is filled with tremendous players of questionable character, and it is incomplete without Pete Rose.
Rose deserves to be in, there is simply no question about that. His punishment for his crimes should be his continued banishment from being part of the game and earning a living in the game. That punishment should not extend to enshrinement in the Hall of Fame. Pete Rose's plaque should be there, along with Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, and Joe Morgan. His continued absence is a travesty.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ted Kennedy
I have always been conflicted about Ted Kennedy. He's not the mythical, god-like figure that his martyred brother, Jack, has become in our hearts and minds. He's not the intellectual equivalent of his other murdered brother, Bobby. His presidential aspirations were destroyed one tragic night when he either deliberately allowed his passenger to die or was negligent in not being able to save her. He has had problems with alcohol and womanizing, and he played a role in the events that led to his nephew, William Kennedy Smith, being accused and put on trial for sexual assault. His shortcomings have been on display for the whole nation to see over the last four decades.
On the other hand, he spent 47 years in the United States Senate, became the voice of the Democratic Party, and was responsible for much legislation that has positively affected American's lives over the years. He wasn't afraid to wear the liberal mantle, and he wasn't ashamed to proudly work for liberal causes and issues.
He devoted his life to public service, and he paid a high price for it. He watched his beloved two older brothers be murdered, and he was forced to assume the role of family leader and patriarch. He walked his niece down the aisle at her wedding, and provided comfort and support to his widowed sisters-in-law. At times, he behaved in public like an alcoholic and he apparently overcame that over the past few years. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he spent the last decade or so in recovery. He went through a bitter divorce, and tragic medical issues with his son. Seemingly, he got through and overcame all of that.
He never could escape the legacy of Chappaquidick. I don't believe the public has ever known the true facts of what happened. The worst that can be said is that Ted was drunk, was driving Mary Jo Kopechnie somewhere to have sex with her, had an accident and drove off the bridge (perhaps due to his alleged intoxication), saved himself from drowning, and when he couldn't save her, waited for hours until he sobered up to call the police. We don't know if that is what truly occurred, but that is the version that the Kennedy-haters have put forth ever since. Whether true or not, there were enough disturbing questions and issues left from that event to haunt Kennedy for the rest of his life. Many people believe he bought himself out of having to suffer serious consequences for his actions. Many people have never forgiven him for that. It cost him a serious run at the presidency and will forever stain his legacy.
In death, what has been most talked about are his accomplishments and leadership in the Senate, and his ability to overcome his private demons. Unlike his brothers, who in death have become larger than life, Ted Kennedy has remained a human being, flawed like everyone else, but able to withstand and overcome those personal flaws, and have a significant impact on this nation. When you look at it that way, perhaps he really was the greatest of the Kennedy's. In any event, his passing was truly significant, the end of an era. His influence will be felt for decades to come, and he will be missed.
On the other hand, he spent 47 years in the United States Senate, became the voice of the Democratic Party, and was responsible for much legislation that has positively affected American's lives over the years. He wasn't afraid to wear the liberal mantle, and he wasn't ashamed to proudly work for liberal causes and issues.
He devoted his life to public service, and he paid a high price for it. He watched his beloved two older brothers be murdered, and he was forced to assume the role of family leader and patriarch. He walked his niece down the aisle at her wedding, and provided comfort and support to his widowed sisters-in-law. At times, he behaved in public like an alcoholic and he apparently overcame that over the past few years. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he spent the last decade or so in recovery. He went through a bitter divorce, and tragic medical issues with his son. Seemingly, he got through and overcame all of that.
He never could escape the legacy of Chappaquidick. I don't believe the public has ever known the true facts of what happened. The worst that can be said is that Ted was drunk, was driving Mary Jo Kopechnie somewhere to have sex with her, had an accident and drove off the bridge (perhaps due to his alleged intoxication), saved himself from drowning, and when he couldn't save her, waited for hours until he sobered up to call the police. We don't know if that is what truly occurred, but that is the version that the Kennedy-haters have put forth ever since. Whether true or not, there were enough disturbing questions and issues left from that event to haunt Kennedy for the rest of his life. Many people believe he bought himself out of having to suffer serious consequences for his actions. Many people have never forgiven him for that. It cost him a serious run at the presidency and will forever stain his legacy.
In death, what has been most talked about are his accomplishments and leadership in the Senate, and his ability to overcome his private demons. Unlike his brothers, who in death have become larger than life, Ted Kennedy has remained a human being, flawed like everyone else, but able to withstand and overcome those personal flaws, and have a significant impact on this nation. When you look at it that way, perhaps he really was the greatest of the Kennedy's. In any event, his passing was truly significant, the end of an era. His influence will be felt for decades to come, and he will be missed.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Tarantino
When I was in high school and college, my world revolved around film. It was never referred to as movies, it was always "film" or "cinema." I worshipped directors like Kubrick, Truffaut, and Bergman. I wrote film reviews for my college newspaper and I served on the student programming board, on the film committee, of course. Nothing was more important to me.
As time went on, other things, such as making a living, getting married, and having a family slowly took over. I became less obsessed. I still enjoyed movies and reading film reviews, but had long since given up the fantasy of becoming a film critic. And every now and then, I would discover some new director who would so inflame my film passions that I became a total fanboy. In the 70's, it was Scorcese. In the late 80's/early 90's, it was Oliver Stone. And since the first time I saw "Pulp Fiction", it's been Quentin Tarantino.
There is really no director making films these days like Tarantino. People either worship him or despise him, but there is no denying his influence on modern-day cinema. A new Tarantino film is a cause for celebration, and each new film breaks different ground for the director. I don't believe I'm being a fanboy by saying he's the most exciting director out there these days.
The first real Tarantino film (despite the fact that he did not actually direct it) was "True Romance." A quirky, off-beat, brazen mix of romance, comedy, action and violence, "True Romance" boasted a then-unknown cast that reads like a Hollywood who's who: Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, James Gandolfini, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman and others valiantly support Christian Slater and Rosanna Arquette in the lead roles. The brilliant dialogue, never more incisive than in the classic scene between Hopper and Walken, bursts out like street poetry. Maybe Tarantino only wrote the screenplay, but his mark is all over this film.
Next came "Reservoir Dogs", a caper film unlike any other. It was Tarantino's first turn as director, and we never actually see the botched robbery, only the events leading up to it, and immediately after it. Such Tarantino staples as graphic violence and constant use of profanity were seamlessly woven into the fascinating story. And I shouldn't forget Tarantino's use of popular music, and not just on the soundtrack. No one who has ever seen this film can listen to the Steelers Wheel song "Stuck in the middle with You", and not think of this picture.
But it was his next film which really cemented Tarantino's position as an auteur and artist. That film, of course, was "Pulp Fiction". If "Citizen Kane" created the glossary of film-making, paving the way for everything that came after it, "Pulp Fiction" took it to a whole new level. I won't go into a description of the film itself, by this time, you've either seen it or not; you either love it or not. Suffice to say, it was the most exciting, original film to come out of Hollywood in many years.
Tarantino's next films, "Jackie Brown", the "Kill Bill" films, and "Grindhouse" were all fascinating, well-made films that towered above most of the other crap you could see at the multiplex. But as good as they were, they felt like "lesser Tarantino." They were certainly entertaining and a joy to watch, but they did not get the adrenaline flowing like his first three movies.
That all changed with the release of "Inglourious Basterds." Part war film, part ode to cinema, part revisionist history, the film is Tarantino's fantasy of how he would have ended World War II if he had been made God for a day. Like most Tarantino, the film is funny, engrossing, tense, absorbing, frightening, and violent. The acting is superb, especially the unknown German television actor, Christoph Waltz as the Jew-hunting Nazi, Hans Landa. The dialogue is superb, the tension in some of the scenes is unbearable. And the climax, in what is clearly an homage to Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" contains images which have stuck with me ever since I saw the film. This is probably Tarantino's most personal film, containing the themes and values which he undoubtedly holds dear. And it is simply unforgettable.
There are far too many schlockmeisters in Hollywood today, turning out dreck like "GI Joe." There are only a few true artists, who somehow have figured how to make personal visions in films that are nevertheless popular and successful. Tarantino is that rare film artist who does things his way, is true to his vision, yet never forgets that his primary purpose is to entertain. There is no one out there like him, and nobody makes films like he does. Like Orson Welles so many years before him, Tarantino is a true film genius. Don't miss his latest masterpiece.
As time went on, other things, such as making a living, getting married, and having a family slowly took over. I became less obsessed. I still enjoyed movies and reading film reviews, but had long since given up the fantasy of becoming a film critic. And every now and then, I would discover some new director who would so inflame my film passions that I became a total fanboy. In the 70's, it was Scorcese. In the late 80's/early 90's, it was Oliver Stone. And since the first time I saw "Pulp Fiction", it's been Quentin Tarantino.
There is really no director making films these days like Tarantino. People either worship him or despise him, but there is no denying his influence on modern-day cinema. A new Tarantino film is a cause for celebration, and each new film breaks different ground for the director. I don't believe I'm being a fanboy by saying he's the most exciting director out there these days.
The first real Tarantino film (despite the fact that he did not actually direct it) was "True Romance." A quirky, off-beat, brazen mix of romance, comedy, action and violence, "True Romance" boasted a then-unknown cast that reads like a Hollywood who's who: Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, James Gandolfini, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman and others valiantly support Christian Slater and Rosanna Arquette in the lead roles. The brilliant dialogue, never more incisive than in the classic scene between Hopper and Walken, bursts out like street poetry. Maybe Tarantino only wrote the screenplay, but his mark is all over this film.
Next came "Reservoir Dogs", a caper film unlike any other. It was Tarantino's first turn as director, and we never actually see the botched robbery, only the events leading up to it, and immediately after it. Such Tarantino staples as graphic violence and constant use of profanity were seamlessly woven into the fascinating story. And I shouldn't forget Tarantino's use of popular music, and not just on the soundtrack. No one who has ever seen this film can listen to the Steelers Wheel song "Stuck in the middle with You", and not think of this picture.
But it was his next film which really cemented Tarantino's position as an auteur and artist. That film, of course, was "Pulp Fiction". If "Citizen Kane" created the glossary of film-making, paving the way for everything that came after it, "Pulp Fiction" took it to a whole new level. I won't go into a description of the film itself, by this time, you've either seen it or not; you either love it or not. Suffice to say, it was the most exciting, original film to come out of Hollywood in many years.
Tarantino's next films, "Jackie Brown", the "Kill Bill" films, and "Grindhouse" were all fascinating, well-made films that towered above most of the other crap you could see at the multiplex. But as good as they were, they felt like "lesser Tarantino." They were certainly entertaining and a joy to watch, but they did not get the adrenaline flowing like his first three movies.
That all changed with the release of "Inglourious Basterds." Part war film, part ode to cinema, part revisionist history, the film is Tarantino's fantasy of how he would have ended World War II if he had been made God for a day. Like most Tarantino, the film is funny, engrossing, tense, absorbing, frightening, and violent. The acting is superb, especially the unknown German television actor, Christoph Waltz as the Jew-hunting Nazi, Hans Landa. The dialogue is superb, the tension in some of the scenes is unbearable. And the climax, in what is clearly an homage to Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" contains images which have stuck with me ever since I saw the film. This is probably Tarantino's most personal film, containing the themes and values which he undoubtedly holds dear. And it is simply unforgettable.
There are far too many schlockmeisters in Hollywood today, turning out dreck like "GI Joe." There are only a few true artists, who somehow have figured how to make personal visions in films that are nevertheless popular and successful. Tarantino is that rare film artist who does things his way, is true to his vision, yet never forgets that his primary purpose is to entertain. There is no one out there like him, and nobody makes films like he does. Like Orson Welles so many years before him, Tarantino is a true film genius. Don't miss his latest masterpiece.
Monday, August 10, 2009
The arrogance of Bob Dylan
There are certain performers in the world of classic rock music who are nothing short of icons. Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, Pete Townshend, Eric Clapton, people like that. Some would argue that the biggest icon of them all is Bob Dylan. Certainly, Dylan has had as much influence on popular music as anyone else has over the last 40 or so years. While I am not a Dylan fanboy, I certainly like a great deal of his music, and respect the man for what he has accomplished.
While I have seen live most of the greats of classic rock, there are a few glaring exceptions. One of those exceptions is Dylan, and I was looking forward with great anticipation to the concert he was to have played in an outdoor spring training stadium in Phoenix tomorrow night. I use the term "was to have played", because this past Friday, the "great one" cancelled the show. He apparently also cancelled his show the next night in Las Vegas. And the reason for the cancellations? The heat. Wait, let me say that again, the heat. The damn heat, for crying out loud!!
I mean, give me a break. It is no secret that it is brutally hot in Phoenix and Las Vegas during the summer, anyone who has ever been to those places can tell you that, not to mention those of us who have lived here for more than a quarter of a century. Plenty of musicians and entertainers come here in the summertime, anyway, knowing full well that it's going to be a hot night. I saw Paul McCartney in a sweltering Sun Devil Stadium on a hot July night in 1990. A few years before that, I saw The Police at Phoenix Giants Stadium (rip) on a night when the temperature hit 115. They both gave tremendous shows. True, at one point, Sting had to stop and drink about a gallon of water, but it didn't affect his performance. Those were two of the best concerts I have ever enjoyed.
Dylan, on the other hand, is simply an arrogant prima donna. It can't possibly be a surprise to him and his entourage that it is hot in Phoenix in August. What in God's name were they thinking? And don't they care in the slightest about the thousands of fans who were looking forward to the show? Don't we count for anything?
I am beyond disgusted. If the heat in Phoenix (and apparently Vegas) was going to be an issue, then why weren't we placed in a different spot on the tour. It's not hot here all year long. Why not play here in April or October? Why dangle the carrot if you're just going to pull it away? Would it have been so difficult to be the slightest bit considerate and schedule the Phoenix show for a cooler time of year?
It's pretty obvious to me that Dylan just doesn't care. Pretty damn arrogant of him, in my humble opinion. So, I tell you what, Bob. You and I are done. I don't buy another pair of tickets, I don't buy any more of your music. You get no more money from this Arizona desert rat. You obviously don't care about me, and I don't need you. Adios, Bob.
While I have seen live most of the greats of classic rock, there are a few glaring exceptions. One of those exceptions is Dylan, and I was looking forward with great anticipation to the concert he was to have played in an outdoor spring training stadium in Phoenix tomorrow night. I use the term "was to have played", because this past Friday, the "great one" cancelled the show. He apparently also cancelled his show the next night in Las Vegas. And the reason for the cancellations? The heat. Wait, let me say that again, the heat. The damn heat, for crying out loud!!
I mean, give me a break. It is no secret that it is brutally hot in Phoenix and Las Vegas during the summer, anyone who has ever been to those places can tell you that, not to mention those of us who have lived here for more than a quarter of a century. Plenty of musicians and entertainers come here in the summertime, anyway, knowing full well that it's going to be a hot night. I saw Paul McCartney in a sweltering Sun Devil Stadium on a hot July night in 1990. A few years before that, I saw The Police at Phoenix Giants Stadium (rip) on a night when the temperature hit 115. They both gave tremendous shows. True, at one point, Sting had to stop and drink about a gallon of water, but it didn't affect his performance. Those were two of the best concerts I have ever enjoyed.
Dylan, on the other hand, is simply an arrogant prima donna. It can't possibly be a surprise to him and his entourage that it is hot in Phoenix in August. What in God's name were they thinking? And don't they care in the slightest about the thousands of fans who were looking forward to the show? Don't we count for anything?
I am beyond disgusted. If the heat in Phoenix (and apparently Vegas) was going to be an issue, then why weren't we placed in a different spot on the tour. It's not hot here all year long. Why not play here in April or October? Why dangle the carrot if you're just going to pull it away? Would it have been so difficult to be the slightest bit considerate and schedule the Phoenix show for a cooler time of year?
It's pretty obvious to me that Dylan just doesn't care. Pretty damn arrogant of him, in my humble opinion. So, I tell you what, Bob. You and I are done. I don't buy another pair of tickets, I don't buy any more of your music. You get no more money from this Arizona desert rat. You obviously don't care about me, and I don't need you. Adios, Bob.
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