Time to Say Good-Bye, Pt. II

Ok, it took longer than a couple of days to post again (in fact last night was the Super Bowl), but this is still an improvement. I hope everyone had a wonderful New Year's celebration and was able to take something memorable from the most overrated night on the calendar. T & I decided to stay in, play some games (she won all of them!), drink some wine, and chow down some h'orderves. We suffered through some bad television coverage from Carson Daly and Ryan Seacrest (both of whom continue to defy the odds by escaping unemployment), but on the whole it was a mellow night without incident. Considering my personal New Year's Eve history, that's saying something. Now let's get back to those we've lost, focusing on the world of sports, and beginning with the greatest fictional manager who ever lived:


James Gammon (70): Versatile character actor I'll always remember for his portrayal of Lou Brown, manager of the Cleveland Indians in the funniest baseball movie ever made, Major League ('89). Sometimes a memorable character is born through unique delivery of dialogue and Gammon's performance as the gruff, irritable former 'Tire World' employee goes down as one of my favorites ever! A few classically delivered favorite lines . . .

At lead-off man Willie Mays Hayes: "You may run like Hayes, but you hit like shit."

At pansy veteran Roger Dorn: "Come on Dorn get in front of the damn ball! Don't give me this "olé" bullshit!"

Regarding the press: "I'm not much for giving inspirational addresses, but I'd just like to point out that every newspaper in the country has picked us to finish last. The local press seems to think that we'd save everyone a lot of time and trouble if we, just went out and shot ourselves. Me, I'm for wasting sportswriters' time. So I figured we ought to hang around for a while and see if we can give 'em all a nice big shitburger to eat!"

And a personal favorite I use on a weekly basis, even though T never has any idea what I'm talking about: "Oh, this old body could use a soak."



Ok, now onto some real life athletes (excluding Brett Favre, whom I never need to hear about again):

Allen Iverson: Not officially retired, but after the NBA showed no interest, Iverson took his aging body to Besiktas in Turkey of all places, recently returning to the U.S. for surgery to remove a lesion from his leg. This would be a sad ending to one of the great careers in NBA history, but hopefully A.I. will be back.

Amir Vahidi (49): Is poker a sport? Not even I would admit that. But Vahidi left one of the largest impressions in the tournament (2003 WSOP) that brought no limit Texas hold 'em to the attention of the masses and helped spawn the poker boom.

Bobby Thomson (86): Best known for the famed "Shot Heard 'Round the World," his game winning 3-run homer that won the 1951 National League pennant for the Giants.

Bob Feller (92): Huge news in Cleveland when the pitching great died last month following a battle with leukemia. Despite losing four prime years to the Navy following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Feller threw 3 career no-hitters and an amazing 44 shutouts. He won 266 games with a 3.25 earned run average and is widely regarded as one of the best pitchers of all-time.

Chuck Daily (78): The Hall of Fame coach led the Detroit Pistons to back-to-back titles in the late 80s before coaching the original Dream Team to an Olympic gold medal in 1992. And my brother will forever believe he has a 'thing' for Patrick Ewing :)

Dom DiMaggio (92): Great center fielder who played his entire 11 year career for the Boston Red Sox. Despite playing in the shadow of teammate Ted Williams and older brother Joe, Dom earned a reputation as one of his era's finest lead-off men and defensive outfielders. Like Feller, DiMaggio lost prime years to the Navy, but the 7-time All-Star finished with a .298 career average, twice leading the American League in runs scored. He made the Red Sox Hall of Fame in 1995.

Don Meredith (72): My Dad was unusually melancholy when hearing of Meredith's death. The former Dallas Cowboys quarterback threw for over 17,000 career yards, but is probably best remembered for his work as part of the Monday Night Football broadcast crew opposite Howard Cosell and Frank Gifford.

George Steinbrenner (80) I absolutely hate the phrase "love to hate," because it's a media created inoffensive bullshit term meant to turn attention away from the fact that we actually hate people when we use it. ESPN.com started using it a few years ago with every single poll they posted. To clarify, I don't "love to hate" Reggie Miller. Rather the sheer site of his ugly, bald freak-face makes me want to gouge his eyes out and feed them to pigeons in the park. What does this have to do with Steinbrenner? Well, for a time I hated the renowned Yankees owner, mostly because for the better part of my life the Red Sox couldn't climb out from under his considerable shadow. But when we started emulating his outrageous spending formula and started winning World Series, it became a little easier to appreciate Steinbrenner's accomplishments (including 7 World Series titles), even if he stole his nickname from Bruce Springsteen. He also inspired a completely silly, incompetent bozo-version of himself, voiced by Larry David on Seinfeld.

John Wooden (99): Best basketball coach of all-time? I'll respectfully stick with Red Auerbach, but I wouldn't yell at anyone who gave the title to Wooden. He is indisputably the greatest collegiate athletic coach ever, winning 7 consecutive national championships at UCLA and 10 in 12 years! This period included an unthinkable 88-game winning streak featuring centers Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Bill Walton.

Manute Bol (47): Perhaps the strangest looking athlete of all-time, the 7' 6" Sudanese-born center became one of the best shot-blockers in the history of the NBA. He often averaged more blocks than points per game, wore shoe size 16 1/2, and became an unlikely attraction for both serious and casual fans alike. He became a revered political activist following and during his basketball career.

Steve McNair (36): The longtime Tennessee Titans quarterback was tragically shot and killed by his mistress in one of the strangest news stories of 2009. McNair was the Titan's all-time leading passer, the NFL Co-MVP in 2003, and led his team against the St. Louis Rams in one of the most exciting Super Bowl finishes ever (2000).

Sparky Anderson (76): Hall of Fame manager who finished his career with 2,194 wins. Anderson won 3 World Series rings as manager, the 1st 2 coming back-to-back in the mid-70s with a historically great Cincinnati Reds team (the '75 series is regarded among the best ever). He added a 3rd championship in 1984 with the Detroit Tigers.

Wayman Tisdale (44): One of my favorite random basketball players of the last 20 years. Tisdale was a 3-time All-American at Oklahoma before becoming the 2nd overall pick in the 1985 NBA draft (Karl Malone went 13th, but whatever). A left-handed power forward, the extremely likeable Tisdale played his best years with the Sacramento Kings before retiring to focus on a jazz career. He just seemed like a cool guy. I'm convinced the writers of 1991's Strictly Business stole his name for their lead character, but it has never been proven.


And finally, 2 huge baseball retirements that flew far under the radar;

Ken Griffey Jr.: It's difficult to determine just how revered Griffey might've been had he stayed healthy. I honestly can't even remember the last time he was considered relevant (he left Seattle for Cincinnati over a decade ago!), which is a mixed blessing. On the one hand he avoided the steroid era and the resulting ugly cloud that looms over many of his contemporaries. His career basically split in two parts, the 1st historically great and the 2nd somewhat forgettable. Despite all the time missed he amassed 630 homeruns (5th all-time), 13 All-star selections, an MVP award, & 10 Gold Glove Awards (often cited as the finest defensive outfielder of the 90s). He was an icon embraced by younger baseball fans for his exuberance, his backwards cap, and a lefty swing considered the purest in baseball. I still remember his 1989 Upper Deck rookie card, a prized collection item. This year he played his last game without the fanfare surrounding several of his peers and despite his accomplishments it's easy to consider his career a disappointment in some respects. Injuries are the most frustrating limitators, because they are largely involuntary. Just know that when Griffey's name reaches the Hall of Fame ballot in 2015, his reception will be envied by the likes of Bonds, Clemens, McGwire, et al., who will themselves be wondering what might've been.

Nomar Garciaparra: 10 years ago I would've bet anything that Nomah would one day join a select list of Boston sports demigods named Russell, Teddy, Bobby, and Larry. The '97 AL Rookie of the Year has since been passed by guys named Brady, Papi, & Pierce. I still remember getting the phone call that Nomar had been traded while walking through Faneuil Hall that summer in 2004. Even though he'd clearly been unhappy with recent treatment relating to contract negotiations (at the time I agreed with him), it still seemed unthinkable that the Red Sox would part ways with the former back-to-back batting champion (he hit a ridiculous .357 & .372 in '99 & '00). Skeptics have suggested he was a victim of the famed Sports Illustrated curse, as a March 2001 cover featured a suddenly ripped Garciparra flexing topless. Indeed, just months after his trade to the Cubs, Boston broke the 86 year curse and won the World Series. Regardless, the nationwide debates over who was baseball's greatest shortstop (A-Rod, Nomar, & Derek Jeter) seem like a lifetime ago. At that time, the longtime Yankee routinely finished 3rd; today he's the only one who's a lock for Cooperstown. Last March Nomar signed a one-day contract with the Red Sox so he could retire with the franchise he considered home. I will always cheer Nomar Garciaparra.


And in the end . . . . .

Siskel & Ebert (At the Movies): The longtime movie review show disappeared quietly in 2010, sad news to all who appreciate the film going experience. When I was in High School I imagined one day becoming a professional film critic and even saved a computer document detailing short paragraph reviews of movies I saw in 1996 in particular (I remember thinking A Time to Kill and Independence Day were two of the best movies I'd seen to that point). From there I began writing the occasional review for Newton South's 'Denebola'. The interest continued sporadically in college, as I submitted a few reviews for the Trinity College 'Tripod,' all freshman year. If my motivation for writing full reviews dimmed, my enthusiasm for going to the movies did not, and today I remain as opinionated as ever. Chicago film critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert began their syndicated program in 1986 (they'd worked together since 1975 with 'Sneak Previews') and displayed great chemistry, despite arguing frequently. Their passion for their work was always evident and provided great entertainment for the rest of us, as well as smart recommendations. Their slogan "Two Thumbs Up/Down" became a legitimate barometer for how a film might perform critically and commercially. The pair also formed a close relationship with David Letterman, who regularly had them as guests. When Siskel died in 1999, Ebert kept the show going, eventually choosing another Chicago critic Richard Roeper, as his replacement. While not quite the same, the show continued to do well until Ebert too suffered health problems, leaving Roeper as the anchor. Since his departure the show featured substitute hosts both good (A.O.Scott & Michael Phillips) and bad (Ben Lyons & Ben Mankiewicz). After shuffling air dates and times repeatedly (when will network executives realize this is NEVER a good idea?), the show was cancelled, the finale airing on August 14th, 2010. Fortunately many of the greatest moments and reviews from Siskel & Ebert are available on YouTube for a younger generation to experience.

Dennis Hopper (74): One of the great psychotic actors of his generation, perhaps ever. After early appearances in a pair of James Dean films (Rebel without a Cause & Giant), Hopper shot to fame directing and co-starring in 1969's independent counterculture sensation Easy Rider, which also introduced the world to Jack Nicholson. The charismatic actor spent much of the next two decades battling drug abuse, though it often resulted in memorable performances. It's almost impossible not to believe he was on drugs as the motor-mouthed photojournalist in Apocalypse Now ('79), or most memorably as villain Frank Booth in Blue Velvet ('86). That same year he was Oscar-nominated for his terrific role as the alcoholic basketball fanatic Shooter in Hoosiers. The mid-90s brought a 2nd career revival with strong supporting turns in 1993's True Romance (his scene with Christopher Walken is a classic) and 1994's Speed as the mad bomber. He played another lunatic villain the next year in Waterworld. Hopper was also prolific on television for several decades, with appearances on Gunsmoke, Bonanza, The Twilight Zone, 24, Entourage, and most recently as the lead on the Starz network's Crash. In a business where too many actors are carbon copies of those who came before, Hopper was an original.

Leslie Nielsen (84): Whenever I need a pick-me-up, I YouTube (when did that become a verb?) the opening scene from The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! It's so great that I considered posting it illegally, as it features Nielsen's Lt. Frank Drebin spying on a meeting amongst the world's most infamous leaders before single-handedly beating the crap out of all of them, revealing his identity, and offering the warning, "And don't ever let me catch you guys in America!" The secret to Nielsen's success as a comic actor was his ability to keep a straight face in the midst of pure silliness. He delivered dialogue matter-of-factly, even lines as ridiculous as "Oh, and one more thing... I faked every orgasm!" following a fight with girlfriend Jane. It helped that Nielsen in fact started as a dramatic actor in the 1950s, appearing in dozens of serious TV and film roles over the next two decades. But the huge success of Airplane (1980) changed the trajectory of Nielsen's career, playing Dr. Rumack in the middle of a plane full of violently ill passengers. In that endlessly quotable comedy, several prominent actors (including Robert Stack and Lloyd Bridges) volunteered to play against type, leading to exchanges like this one . . .

Rumack: "Captain, how soon can you land?"
Captain Oveur: "I can't tell."
Rumack: "You can tell me. I'm a doctor."

The humor was so obvious that it could be as easily appreciated by an 8 year old as a 68 year old. By the end of the 80s Nielsen had become the face of movie spoofs (his hit franchise a spin-off of the cancelled 1982 show Police Squad, featuring many of the same characters and creative people), but it takes an actor of a certain genius to pull off what he did. From this perspective, Nielsen was no less valuable to comedy than Marlon Brando was to drama fifty years ago. If you don't believe me, try sitting through the latest offering from the Wayans Brothers, or better yet those awful Freidberg/Seltzer productions (Date Movie, Epic Movie, etc...). In the wrong hands, spoofs are often unwatchable. But Nielsen was the master of this subgenre, and warrants mention with the great comic actors of his time. Need more proof? I offer the all-time greatest rendition of the national anthem, and if my blog gets flagged, so be it . . . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poIRktlowCM

About a month ago T and I were boarding an airplane returning from New Orleans, and got stuck in line near the plane entrance. As I waited patiently, I considered leaning into the cockpit to say "I just wanted to tell you both good luck, we're all counting on you." I'm pretty sure they would've laughed (or arrested me). My money's on the former, but it wasn't worth the gamble.

LOST: In a year of notable television exits (Law & Order and 24 also ended in 2010), none drew the attention of ABC's Lost. The science-fiction drama which began in 2004 with the most expensive pilot ever green-lit soon became one of the most closely scrutinized programs in television history and for good reason. Created by J.J. Abrams, Jeffrey Lieber, & Damon Lindelof, the plot followed the survivors of Oceanic flight 815, which crash landed on a mysterious island en route from Sydney to Los Angeles. The show shifted between conflict and relationship building on the island with back stories in the normal lives for each of the dozens of characters. Meanwhile, questions regarding the enigmas and very existence of the island itself took hold of viewers and became a driving force of intrigue. The show's writing was often brilliant, as mysteries and apparent coincidences were used to explore deeper philosophies involving fate vs. free will. Jack (Matthew Fox) was often the moral center of the show, though the doctor's dependence on fact and logic often came to blows with Locke (Terry O'Quinn), who believed things happened for a reason. Locke probably goes down as one of the 5 most interesting television characters ever, although he wasn't alone. Viewers became so invested in the lives of Kate, Sawyer, Hurley, Desmond, Sayid, Jin, Sun, etc... that they forgave the occasional slip-up in credibility (whatever happened to Walt?). I myself preferred the show's first 3 seasons, which were far more survival-oriented than the last 3.

If there was a shade of disappointment after Lost ended (other than not being able to see it live - more on this in a minute), it's because for a while I thought it was on its way to become the greatest television show of all-time. It didn't quite get there for a few reasons, one being that the writers (Lindelof & Carlton Cuse) opened more mysteries than could reasonably be explained, even on an island that bended the rules. Once season 3 closed with a flash-forward (a fascinating idea at the time), the creators were essentially warning us that they might try anything. A questionable reliance on time travel almost lost (no pun intended) T and I during season 5, when relationships changed, the setting expanded to multiple decades, and we were forced to follow Faraday's notebook detailing the construction of an atomic bomb. For a show that was already 'out there,' it went way too far out there. Season 6 mellowed things a bit, though it brought a flash sideways to further confuse the issue and ended with questions of life, death, and purgatory (which itself led to debates over what the latter term meant, there were at least 5 phone calls on the issue).

Note: As I mentioned, we were unable to see the Lost finale live, which did untold damage to our opinion of the ending. We planned an evening around that night only to have it ruined by technical difficulties at ABC throughout greater Cleveland. The choppy broadcast skipped and froze, disregarding entire scenes, eventually leading to me screaming and turning it off. The local network was flooded with emails and calls from furious fans, prompting a public apology and subsequent re-airing a few days later, but the damage had been done. Seriously, where else besides Cleveland could this happen? We joke about the city being cursed following years of sports-related embarrassments (the latest being the Cavaliers breaking the all-time losing streak record in professional basketball with 24 STRAIGHT LOSSES!!!), but this was eerie. Did Lost have the power to choose not to broadcast itself? It's a spooky question and indeed just weeks ago the Mega Millions lottery featured 4 of 6 numbers matching the pattern Hurley became obsessed with on the show (4,8,15,16,23,42), leading to over 9,000 winners.

At the end of the day, trying to explain the show's plot to someone would only make me sound ridiculous for liking it in the first place (Um, it's about a murderous smoke monster, two opposing brothers with powers, a polar bear, betrayals, women who can't reproduce, drugs, bombs, curing the handicapped, a band called Drive Shaft, a love triangle, a soulless con-man, crazy French women, torture, visions, mysterious voices, poorly made rafts, submarines, wild hogs, and the dharma initiative). It's impossible to defend in this regard. But what stand out are the performances (one of the strongest ensembles in history), the ambitious writing, and the dramatic moments that had us glued to our television sets every week. Many series would be thrilled to have a memorable scene or two. Lost had dozens, from the pilot episode plane crash to the opening of the hatch, from Benjamin Linus' identity revelation to Juliet's fall, from Eko's showdown with Smokey to the boat explosion, to Charlie's drowning, a death scene that ranks with the greatest ever on TV or film. I don't remember another show that delivered on a more satisfying dramatic or emotional level, even if it did so inconsistently. And after rewatching the finale on DVD, I realized they really did find the right ending after all (each character remembering their lives on the island, plus the closing shot on Jack was perfect). In the end, television was better for having a phenomenon that not only entertained, but challenged the intellect. I may even watch it all over again and would encourage you to do the same.


See you next year