Wake Me Up with a Slap or a Kiss - A-Train Fall Concert Series #1 - by Aaron Moeller
In 1988 Bob Dylan began what has become known as The Never-Ending Tour, playing hundreds of shows a year and continually spanning the globe, hitting a handful of continents with regularity. The tour manages to make its way back to the Midwest at least once a year. Two weeks ago, Bob Dylan and his band played the 2000th show of the tour and
last week settled in for an evening at Carver-Hawkeye Arena in Iowa City.
This was my 12th show of the tour and I’ve yet to see Dylan in the same venue twice. I don't like to miss local Dylan shows. If you were on the planet at the same time as Shakespeare, wouldn't you try to attend as many of those original plays as you could, especially if he came to your state? Carver-Hawkeye Arena isn’t the greatest venue for concerts but I have to confess that we had great seats. From our spot on the floor, sound simply wasn’t going to be an issue, though marching all the way up the stairs from our floor seats to the street level bathrooms could have been.
Amos Lee, an artist I wasn’t really familiar with, opened up the Bob Dylan Show this time around. From what I’ve read he’s been compared favorably to Norah Jones, though his latest album has more upbeat songs. His music seemed to fall somewhere between John Mayer and Dave Matthews. He introduced himself a number of times – "I’m Amos Lee. I’m from Philadelphia." – for the benefit of the large amount of late arrivals.
Then came a classic performance and what was, admittedly – though I’m a major Dylan fan – the biggest reason I was so excited for this show – a solo performance by Elvis Costello. I’ve been re-reading a ten-year-old book recently by the dean of rock critics, Greil Marcus, entitled "Ranters and Crowd Pleasers: Punk in Pop Music", a collection of his magazine writings from the mid-70s onward and a virtual blow-by-blow of the punk generation. Throughout the book, Marcus traces the punk movement but continually compares and contrasts those artists with two major performers whose long careers have corresponded with that era, Elvis Costello and Bruce Springsteen. "Parallel figures," Marcus writes, with "one always nibbling at the boundaries of the mainstream, the other seemingly at home nowhere else." Marcus contends that in the Reagan/Thatcher era, the two "were headed toward a convergence of Springsteen’s
Nebraska and Costello’s "Pills and Soap" and
King of America". He calls them "three of the quietest punk records ever made, and three of the truest – negations as complete and unflinching, in their way, as hard and cruel, as any of the explosions in (The Sex Pistols’) "God Save the Queen".
Elvis nearly sprinted on stage, strapped on his guitar and launched into "(Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes", an older tune from the underrated Rock and Roll Hall of Famer’s back catalog, and then "Both Sides of the Same Town", a ballad from his Delta-flavored 2004 album
The Delivery Man.
The song "Veronica" is about as close as Costello’s ever come to having a hit single and was the first tune a lot of fans seemed to recognize. One of two highlights of the night was the Hurricane Katrina-inspired title track from Costello’s collaboration with legendary New Orleans producer Allen Toussaint,
The River in Reverse. Stepping away from his microphone and gesturing, even those unfamiliar with the song picked up on the shout-along chorus of "Wake me up! Wake me up! Wake me up with a slap or a kiss! There must be something better than this/ ‘cos I don’t see how it can get much worse/ What do we have to do to send the river in reverse?" This is a great angry song, filled with righteous rage, and is maybe the best song anybody’s written in the last ten years:
So count your blessings when they ask permission
To govern your money with superstition
They tell you it’s all for your protection
‘Til you fear your own reflection
But the times are passing from illumination
Like bodies falling from a constellation
An uncivil war divides the nation
So erase the tape
on that final ape
running down creation
It leads to a shouted climactic declaration: "In the name of the Father and the Son, In the name of gasoline and a gun!" Elvis won over the crowd for good with this one, as the Iowa City crowd, most of whom seemed largely unfamiliar with Costello’s work, gave him a standing ovation. (Maybe the lack of Costello fans in attendance was good. Elvis was on fire with energy and commitment, trying to win over the mannered crowd.)
From his very first album, "Alison" is a great ballad and was known to many in attendance as Classic Costello. "Man Out of Time", a personal favorite from the underrated and sonically brilliant
Imperial Bedroom album, was stripped down and stunning. Written by Costello and T-Bone Burnett just a couple years ago, but introduced as a rewrite of a 1930's song, we were treated to another highlight of the night, a charming "Sulfur to Sugar Cane", the catchiest tune of the acoustic set with a number of rewritten lyrics for the occasion, "In Iowa City, pretty girls call my name...". "Elvis!" some ladies were heard to shout.
Costello has a lot of old school entertainer in him. (I greatly value my tattered VHS copy of the time Elvis filled in on the
Late Show with David Letterman, not as bandleader, but as actual host when Letterman was out with shingles. He told monologues jokes and everything.) Costello introduced himself as the ninth of 13 generations of musicians (or something on that order) and spoke of his father, a British jazz and big band singer since the ‘40s. According to some internet reports, Costello was not as chatty as he’d been at some of the other shows on the tour, likely since the Iowa City crowd seemed so unfamiliar with his work. (He’s apparently had his wife, American jazz singer, Diana Krall, and their twin baby boys (Aaron and Chris?) traveling on tour with him.)
Costello is always one to mix in covers and one song morphed into "Not Fade Away", the Buddy Holly-rocker that served as another crowd sing-along. (With his horn-rimmed glasses, Holly is an obvious physical – as well as musical – Costello precursor.) Another ‘70’s song that’s grown in stature the last few years and is perhaps becoming the best known of Costello’s recordings, "(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" was a big crowd pleaser. Some may know "Complicated Shadows" from its inclusion on
The Sopranos soundtrack. He introduced it as a song he wrote for Johnny Cash and the crowd shouted its approval. "You don’t have to applaud," Costello said. "He never recorded it."
The final tune was "The Scarlet Tide", a Costello-penned, Oscar-nominted tune about a soldier that Allison Krauss recorded for the film
Cold Mountain. The theme of war and its tragedy has clearly been on Costello’s mind and seems to have affected Dylan’s set list as well. Costello was insanely good on this night and the performance rivaled Al Green at the Minneapolis State Fair in August as the greatest of the sadly abbreviated (less than an hour) sets I’ve ever witnessed.
Blogmaster Chris has been kind enough to link to a number of my Bob Dylan concert reviews from expectingrain.com in the past, so I’ll keep this one brief. (Consult the archives!)
"Rainy Day Women #12 & #35)" with its "Everybody must get stoned" chorus was the wrong opener for such a sober, indoor performance, and while "Don’t Think Twice (It’s Alright)" is a top ten Dylan tune in my book, it wasn’t until the ending flourish of "Watching the River Flow" that Dylan and the boys really found their power.
Bob switched from his guitar to the keyboard for the rest of the show. Everybody loves to hear "Tangled Up in Blue" and Bob is back to changing around the lyrics (his boat sank three times in Delacroix). Dylan’s voice is as gruff as ever but he’s been vocal dynamite of late – full of piss and fervor – and passionately enunciating those often half-spoken lyrics.
"Rollin’ and Tumblin’" was a marathon version. Denny Freeman is taking more solos on guitar than I’ve ever seen a Dylan sideman take. Bob is also starting to radically rework some of his new songs, the way he’s been rearranging his old tunes for decades. "Honest with Me" and "Summer Days" seemed to throw the band, taking awhile to find their new grooves, then absolutely took off into the stratosphere. "High Water" was a high water mark in the set, with Donnie Herron on his electric banjo. This song has some of my favorite lyrics of the recent Dylan albums.
Bob Dylan Band 'Did You Know?' : Bassist Tony Garnier, who has been with Bob for nearly every show on the Never Ending Tour and is by far the longest serving sideman Dylan has ever had, is the grandson of New Orleans bandleader and musician D'Jalma Thomas Garnier, also known for his involvement with the New Orleans Boys Home for Colored Waifs. He's the man who taught Louis Armstrong how to play his horn.
"Desolation Row", a
Highway 61 Revisted classic, was intriguing. Dylan was in the middle of a striking, memorable version when he launched into a harmonica riff and realized the harp was out of key and immediately stopped. The band kept the groove going as he strolled casually to the amp where he keeps his harmonicas lined up. Dylan fingered a couple of his candy-bar sized duet partners, wandered back to his keyboard, sang another verse, cued another Freeman guitar solo, then lit into the most emotional, cut-throat, 2+ minute harmonica solo I’ve ever heard.
I’d never heard "Ain’t Talkin’" live before, but it’s now a favorite of mine. He willed the lyrics to be understood. Despite all of its emotional weight and hard-earned wisdom, that voice is admittedly ravaged. We all know it’s nothing pretty, but anyone who tells you they’ve attended a Dylan show and couldn’t understand the lyrics – mid-1980s shows possibly excluded – are lying to you and you should not be friends with them.
"Thunder on the Mountain" and "Like a Rolling Stone" were solid encores, but it was the main set closer "Master of War", the granddaddy of anti-war songs that brought the
greatest thunder of the evening. There’s no Bruce, and no Elvis Costello, of course, without Bob Dylan, and we were all reminded of that. And rewarded with a dynamite night in the ol’ college town. Keep your ear tuned to the roar, folks. He’ll be coming to your town soon.
Three more endorsements
The "Sinatra Vegas" CD box set from 2006 is a must-have. I had hesitated to buy it before Saturday, due to an impression that disc #2 of the set was a re-edited version of the already-released "Sinatra at the Sands, with Count Basie" from 1966,
the greatest live musical-- or non-musical (for that matter)-- recording of all-time. But you won't believe it-- quick, find a chair and sit down-- it's an entire different show! The set list is very similar to the first, but it's recorded from a different night entirely of the same week-long engagement of Basie and Sinatra and Quincy Jones at Jack Entratter's Copa Room at the Sands. This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me.
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Washington Post sports columnist Thomas Boswell was once the go-to guy for baseball coverage during October, but now the top man is
Will Leitch, editor of deadspin.com and now a baseball blogger for the New York Times. He's a Cards fan from way back so you know you can trust his impulses and insight when you're reading about even the most horrific of diamond developments, such as last night's Red Sox World Championship. His most poignant thoughts are contained in the posts about Curt Schilling and J.D. Drew. Check 'em out in the link above.
Incidentally, my ability to psychically steer the outcome of all post-season baseball games lasted exactly either 380 or 381 days. It began with the mental willing of a Cardinals' victory in San Diego on October 3rd, 2006, and ended on either the 18th or 19th day of this month, depending on whether or not you count that inexplicably-scheduled off-day in Cleveland between games 4 and 5 of the ALCS Friday before last. It was terrific fun while it lasted.
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Thanks to a tip from a friend, it's now time to play the
"Candidate match game." You may have seen it already on the USA Today website. Match 11 questions and you'll win a dream date in a voting booth with one of the 17 Democratic or Republican candidates for president. I polled a "Gravel/Kucinich/Paul" result. See if you can beat that, suckers! Brownback's out of the race, so try not to land on that "Whammy."
Thundercrack! Bruce is Back! A-Train Summer Concert Series #5 - by Aaron Moeller
My brother has a room in his new condo he refers to as "The Cardinals Room". (Ask for a tour at next month's TV Festival.) It’s practically a museum of St. Louis Cardinals memorabilia, with framed photos, World Series programs, and the like. If I were to produce a similar shrine in my own place, I have enough of my own memorabilia that I’d have essentially two choices for a theme – the Cincinnati Reds or Bruce Springsteen. Like a baseball team, the best music has a life-affirming streak that provides daily sustenance and passion – an antidote for a cold and impersonal world. We turn to these things for a little perspective and to
feel so much of what life has to offer. The Cincinnati Reds have a storied history but unfortunately haven’t had a winning season since 1999. Being a Bruce Springsteen fan, on the other hand, is like rooting for a baseball team that never loses a game.
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band brought their fall tour through Chicago Sunday for the first of two sold-out United Center shows in support of
Magic, their masterpiece of a new album. More than any Springsteen album since
Born in the USA,
Magic has that classic "Jersey Shore sound" - Clarence Clemons’ honking saxophone over Danny Federici’s organ; heartbreaking piano intros from Roy Bittan and dynamite guitar solos being traded by Nils Lofgren, Little Steven Van Zandt and the Bossman himself.
Maybe it’s the hipster points from having Conan O’Brien’s bandleader and Silvio Dante from
The Sopranos in his band, but Springsteen tends to draw significantly younger crowds for his E Street Band tours than he did, for example, on his solo tour of ’05 and last year’s
Seeger Sessions folk/gospel revival tour. I noticed in 2003 at US Cellular Field in Chicago that, for the first time, half the crowd was 20-somethings, but never before this year had I seen so many children. There were easily a few hundred kids under ten, wearing their Bruce shirts and sitting with their parents (or grandparents?).
A strange homemade-looking contraption that could be described only as a large mechanical "music machine" with a pounding drum attached and making classic Boardwalk carnival sounds rose up from beneath the stage as the band took their places in the dark. The band looks good. As Bono pointed out in his Rock Hall of Fame induction, Bruce is ageless where other rock stars look like Madame Tussaud’s wax statues. (Hair plugs?) The historically thin Steve is trim again after losing some of that
Sopranos pasta paunch that he sported during the 2003 tour. Clarence’s knees are still shot and he leaned on violinist Soozie Tyrell going up and down the steps, but the band’s oldest member also looks as slim as ever.
The audience, fellow prisoners of rock ‘n roll, erupted as "Radio Nowhere", the first
Magic single began the show. Seemingly inspired by
Little Steven’s Underground Garage satellite radio station devoted to 50-plus years of lightning-speed, garage band rock, the song’s chorus found Bruce shouting his oft-repeated concert stage question, "Is there anybody alive out there?!" and earned thousands of voices speaking back in tongues. The political messages on
Magic are subtle and nuanced but nonetheless relentless, and the two-decades old "No Surrender", the song Bruce polished off for his support of John Kerry in 2004, further announced a show that would be low on ballads and heavy on classic rockers.
"Lonesome Day", the lead song off 2002’s
The Rising, led into two of the most mysterious songs from
Magic: "Gypsy Biker" and the sly title track. We learn that the gypsy biker in question is a returning war veteran, one who may or may not be in a body bag, but one who’s certainly a ghost of his former self. On "Magic", Bruce shared center stage with Soozie Tyrell, who filled in as harmony singer for Patti Scialfa, Bruce’s wife and the mother of their three teenagers. (Patti was absent from the show - due to "a kid thing, that’s all I can tell you", Bruce joked. She was back in action for the Monday show.) "Magic" has straightforward lyrics of a magician’s tricks ("card up my sleeve", "rabbit in my hat", etc.) that morphs into something much more sinister as it blends with the established album theme of a veil of secrecy draped over a trusting, distracted, and disinterested audience. "I’ll cut you in half/ While you’re smiling ear to ear/ And the freedom that you sought’s/ Driftin’ like a ghost amongst the trees". The obvious current president, however, is never mentioned by name.
The Steve Van Zandt influence is strong on the new album. His voice can be heard most prominently among the background vocal mix. The garage rock feel is strong and the album recalls themes whose genesis dates to
The River Tour in 1980, the band’s first trip overseas, that found Bruce and Steve, specifically, getting "politicized" for the first time. It was the first time, to paraphrase Steve from an interview earlier this year, the guys witnessed how people from other countries view the United States and how that affected the perception of their music. Ironically, Bruce and President Bush are about the same age, but that early 80's tour pre-dates W’s first trip abroad by nearly two decades.
Chicago is, of course, the transplanted home of the electric blues and Little Steven ripped into some blues riffs that began the most stunning song run of the night. Bruce used a harp mic to absolutely eerie effect, his distorted voice producing a chilling and atmospheric "Reason to Believe". It’s a song with one of the great scene-setting first verses in all musicdom: "Seen a man standin’ over a dead dog, lyin’ by the highway in a ditch/ He’s looking down kinda puzzled, poking that dog with a stick/ Got his car door flung open, he’s standing out on Highway 31/ Like if he stood there long enough, that dog’d get up and run".
The disillusionment of "Reason" led into one of the most righteous, angry songs ever written and a top 5 song in the A-Train Bruce canon, "Adam Raised a Cain". You INHERIT the sins, you inherit the flames, Bruce declares. The Biblical illusions of the lyrics, the awareness of class divisions, the social resonance and sacred anger of a man "born into this life paying for the sins of somebody else’s past" always stood out for me in the early '90s when lesser, irate rockers dominated the radio airwaves and always sounded to me like whiny kids pissed off because they misplaced their Prozac. Then an unmistakable Bo Diddley-beat signaled "She’s the One", a high-energy but tortured love song from
Born to Run.
Bruce then had his most extended audience banter and ran through a short list of images he loves about America, including cheeseburgers, motorcycles, and Wrigley Field, which drew obvious cheers but also a chorus of boos. (Bruce assumed they were White Sox fans. I figured a lot of them were Cub fans who haven’t stopped booing their team since game 3 of the Division Series.) Then he mentioned one of his favorite things, the Bill of Rights, and shared some thoughts on civil liberties. At least one lady behind me audibly groaned, probably fearing a political rant, but Bruce kept it short and pointed. He was met with overwhelming applause. As it turns out any sane person can see that civil liberties in our country are eroding as we speak. These thoughts were accompanied by the blaring sax riff that kicks off the new tune "Livin’ in the Future". As my girlfriend said to me, the opening of this song is a sound-alike of "that Bruce song you always sing at karaoke" ("Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out") and the surprising roar of recognition from the crowd probably was partially owed to people thinking he was about to play that 1975 Saturday night party classic. But alas, no. Instead we got "My faith’s been torn asunder, tell me is that rollin’ thunder/ Or just the sinkin’ sound of somethin’ righteous goin’ under?" God, he’s good.
"Livin’ in the Future" is an idealized song about shitty things going down in America – "an ill wind blowin’" – but still having a prayer for change: "Don’t worry darlin’, oh baby don’t you fret/ We’re livin’ in the future, and none of this has happened yet." "The Promised Land" was a natural song to follow and led into the second appearance ever of "Your Own Worst Enemy", a new song which has yet to grab me by the balls like some of the other tunes. (In all, nine of the eleven songs on
Magic were performed.) Familiar piano chords signaled the ever-dramatic "Backstreets". (No one, I've noticed, ever sits during any song from
Born to Run.) "Cadillac Ranch", the only song in the set from
The River, was some bad-ass roadhouse and found Steve and Bruce hamming it up as they again shared a microphone. "Devil’s Arcade" is the last song on the new album (not counting Bruce’s first ever hidden track!) and is a song about a soldier dreaming of home. I haven’t found my way into this song yet either, for some reason, and took the opportunity to sit down for a spell.
When I recognized the next song, I remained sitting for a bit so I could make a point of standing when Bruce inevitably called out to "Come on up for the Rising!" Bruce's intention, as he has often said, is that every show would be one part dance party, one part tent revival, one part political rally. Rebirth and renewal is the message that rules the day.
Then we were treated to the two best songs on the new album. "Last to Die", as in "whose blood will spill, whose heart will break/ who’ll be the last to die, for a mistake", is the most specific new anti-war song. Led by Steve’s blistering guitar and anchored by Soozie’s violin, the song rocks. A masterpiece of minimalist writing, the
Magic album as a whole finds Bruce continuing the stories of characters developed on his earlier albums. No introduction is necessary as he's already defined them so well in all those perfect four minute short stories. Now we know right where they stand. The songs now may seemingly be about a failing relationship, or the loss of a good friend, but we can also see how they speak to the failed promises of our nation's leaders or the loss of good men and women overseas.
Then we heard the lines of the album’s penultimate song, "Long Walk Home", a sharp reminder that we have a long way to go before we’ll get this mess cleaned up. It’s going to take some patience. And hope. But then in a callback to his earlier comments about the Bill of Rights, he belted out the words that serve as the climax of the album. In this country, never forget, it’s the people that have the final say. He delivered the strongest lines as fierce as a growling, passionate artist can, enunciating as clearly as I’ve ever heard him:
"My father said, ’Son, we’re lucky in this town
It’s a beautiful place to be born.
It just wraps its arms around you.
Nobody crowds you, nobody goes it alone.
You know that flag
flying over the court house
Means certain things are set in stone
Who we are, what we’ll do
And what we won’t.’
It’s gonna be a long walk home.
Hey pretty Darling, don’t wait up for me
Gonna be a long walk home."
Then he played "Badlands" like his life depended on it.
The encores brought the lovely new "Girls in Their Summer Clothes", a lovely Chamberlain-and-strings tribute to the music of Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys. At the first refrain, he encouraged the crowd to sing in his place - quite the leap of faith for a song that's roughly one month old and has received zero airplay on mainstream radio. For the most part, the crowd knew it. This is a guy, remember, with a very loyal audience. The song was dedicated to Patti, the man’s auburn headed muse who once inspired the lines "Listen up, stud, your life’s been wasted/ ‘Til you’ve gotten down on your knees and tasted/ A red-headed woman."
He introduced the ancient "Thundercrack" as having been the first show-stopper that the band ever played, including at a gig at the old Chicago club Quiet Night. (They opened for the Persuasions there in 1973.) That was a long time ago, Bruce said, "before the fire". Older even than "Rosalita" or "Kitty’s Back" as a full-tilt band workout, one can see how Bruce and the band had no trouble filling up three hour shows even when they only had two albums worth of material. The song has three different refrains - this is
not minimalist songwriting. Each E Streeter had their time to shine on this one, but it was specifically Nils who had the thundering guitar solos as Bruce led the faithful in the shouts of "Sha la, sha la, ah ah, oh oh".
The stage presentation of the band is so iconic by now. Nils and Clarence on stage left. Soozie (and
usually Patti) on the far right. Dan Federici an anchor in the back corner with that organ that Bruce calls "the true sound of the Jersey Shore". Roy Bittan opposite, looking distinguished at his piano, always "the Dean of the University of Musical Perversity". Garry Tallent, back middle, "the Foundation of the E Street Nation" holding down the sound on bass. And Steve just to the right of Bruce, but constantly stalking the stage, mugging for the crowd, sharing Bruce’s microphone like they’re still rehearsing in a rented E Street room, still beautiful losers on the Boardwalk dreaming their rock ‘n roll dreams. And what can be said about Max? Maybe it’s from the workout of having a nightly gig on TV for fifteen years, or just thousands of nights supplying the E Street thunder, watching Bruce’s signals and audibles like a hawk, constantly stopping and starting on a dime, the long time rumors can now be confirmed: Max Weinberg is the greatest drummer in the history of rock and roll.
A few more superlatives: "Born to Run" usually shows up on lists of the greatest rock and roll songs of all-time. It’s often number one. The world can be divided into two kinds of people – people who have yet to attend an E Street Band show and may doubt that ranking, and those that know it’s true. Still, this was the best version I’d witnessed in my six E Street shows. And it was all because of the crowd. Chicago loves them some Springteen and it was a thrill to see so many kids going crazy for a song recorded the same year that an old-timer like me was born. "Dancing in the Dark", as Bruce’s top charting hit, is always a smash with the crowd, even though it never seems to be included in fan polls of favorite Boss songs. I guess it’s a little too "pop" for some of the hardcore fans. But they're not fooling anyone. I know a great song when I hear one. And I know frenzy and euphoria when I see it.
The lyrics scrolled across the monitor for the show closer "American Land", a high-energy, foot-stomping, immigrant-encouraging, crowd-can’t-help-but-sing-a-long tune Bruce wrote on tour with the Sessions Band last year that serves as an Irish-flavored jig, complete with Clarence on one of those pennywhistle things. I’ll give Bruce the final words. See you at the XCel Center in St. Paul next Friday:
"There’s diamonds in the sidewalk the gutters lined in song
Dear, I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There’s treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American Land"
The 6th Annual Moeller TV Festival
Since the organization of the first Moeller Television Festival in Athens, Greece in 1896, the annual competition to host the event has maintained an aggressive pace. 2007 has been no different as formal hosting bids were received from the communities of Helsinki, Finland, Perth, Australia, and Mexico City. Finally, the festival committee settled on the city of Des Moines, Iowa, USA, due primarily to the fact that it's the birthplace of actor Bill Daily of "The Bob Newhart Show," and that it's in close proximity to Creston, Iowa, the birthplace of actress Marcia Wallace of "The Bob Newhart Show."
From the French, the name "Des Moines" was taken from the Des Moines River that flows in a southeasterly vane through town. "Riviere Des Moines" translates literally into "the River of the Monks," though others contend that the river's name evolved from an Indian tribe in the area during the period of white settlement called the Moingonas. The high concentration of insurance companies at Des Moines' business center has earned it the colorful nickname "the Hartford of the West."
Also attractive to the co-chairs of the International Moeller Committee was Des Moines' large population of highly discerning entertainment consumers, evident currently by the high placement of the films "Die Hard" and "50 First Dates" in the community's shared Netflix rankings. The city offers public transportation in the form of in-city, express, and commuter bus routes, and a 3.5 mile-long skywalk system at its downtown. The Des Moines International Airport has recently added non-stop service to Cleveland, Ohio.
Des Moines offers a hospitable climate during the month of November, with a normal high temperature for the month of 46.7 degrees and average November precipitation of just 2.1 inches, making it the fourth driest month on the city calendar.
The 6th Annual Moeller Television Festival will be held at high noon on Saturday, November 10th, and offers the same annual promise of eclectic entertainment offerings, and lean, but hearty sandwiches. All are invited and encouraged to attend.
The location of the festival will be my home: 700 15th St, Penthouse Unit #6. Des Moines, Iowa is located at 41 degrees, 35'27" north; 93 degrees, 37'15"west. Please email any questions or suggestions to
christophermmoeller@msn.com, or to my brother Aaron at
atmoeller@hotmail.com. A viewing schedule will be posted in the coming weeks. Begin your vision exercises today.
Our Democratic process-- an update
There has been no change in the Democratic Presidential race since last I wrote about it, nor will there be at this point, since Hillary Clinton, the party and media establishment candidate, has effectively sewn up the nomination. News reporters and media talking-heads obedient to their corporate paymasters have begun departing the campaign trail, in hot pursuit of other trivialities, as the Obama, Edwards, Dodd, Richardson, and Biden campaigns go sheepishly to their own slaughters, refusing to the finish to aggressively challenge the legislative record of the so-called "front-runner," and refusing to call out Clinton-- one of the greatest beneficiaries of political nepotism in U.S. history-- on her preposterous claim of being the "most-experienced" candidate in the race.
One has to tune in to a televised
Republican candidate debate to actually hear that particular Hillary talking-point disputed. Mitt Romney scored more guffaws last night by evoking Monica Lewinsky's name in his attack, "She (Clinton) has never run a corner store. She hasn't run a state. She hasn't run a city. She hasn't run anything. And the idea that she could learn to be president, you know, as an internship, just doesn't make any sense." Only Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel, among her Democratic opponents, have been willing to risk the party's wrath of challenging Clinton, and they, of course, have virtually nothing to risk, as the party leadership, along with most of its central fundraisers, long ago distanced themselves from that old breed of liberal "kook"-- you know, those ancient FDR-inspired "kooks" that built an electoral majority for the party that lasted for nearly half a century.
On our weekly televised political talk shows, such as General Electric's "Meet the Press," the real issues facing the nation are avoided expertly and entirely as the talking-heads swoon instead over their own abilities to be so charmingly controlled and manipulated by the Clintons. Meanwhile, the party apparatus works overtime to hush all dissenting voices within. A primary season pushed ever earlier ensures that true progressives choosing to remain in the party will be rendered impotent a mere 10 months before the electoral cycle actually concludes, and with only a billion dollar Republican smear campaign standing in the way of their "compromise" candidate reaching the White House.
President Bush's approval rating has plummeted to 25%, but that's a Michael J. Fox-like number compared with the Atlantis-level 11 percent registered by our Democratic-led Congress, which has betrayed
its electoral champions at every turn-- issues ranging from the protection of Habeus Corpus, to illegal wiretapping, to the Iraqi bloodbath and the coming military attack on Iran, to impeachment. The Democrats, aside from having to face that same potentially-punishing electorate again in '08, seem to think they can just hold the ball until the clock runs out on Bush 43, forgetting though that the
parties will be up for election again, as always, but the incompetent Bush, a proven failure, will be absent this time from the ballot, replaced instead with either a Romney, John McCain, or Rudolph Giuliani, each of whom evokes more competence than Bush, and that has each been at least marginally appealing to moderate, and even left-leaning voters, at one time or another during their political careers.
These Democrats, seemingly unaware of the difficult challenge before them, are finally content to choose a candidate who projects less of a voice than an echo to these Republican opponents, a candidate of their own who has ultimately towed the Bush line on Iraq, Iran, Guantanamo, Israel, Mexico, China, and Wall Street, and while simultaneously continuing to be the opposition party's most proven applause line and fundraiser. This year, the wedge issue of the general campaign will be the Democratic candidate at the top of the ticket herself, Hillary Clinton, and unlike the gay marriage "wedge" in 2004, the Dems won't be able to run from this one.
Tim of the Tigers-- A "Final Season" bonus feature
Tim Arp was a standout player on the 1991 Norway (IA) High School baseball team featured in the new independent film "The Final Season," playing in theaters now in selected cities. A friend, and former classmate and teammate, he graciously agreed to answer some of the questions I had about the film for the blog. I emailed him a few, and he responded in written form.
Tim tells me he attended the film's premiere in Cedar Rapids on October 7th, and he saw it again a week later in Peoria, Illinois, where he now makes his home. I believe he still visits this site from time to time, so if you have questions of your own for him, drop them in the "comments" box and you might get lucky. He's a star now, though, so don't bet on it.
His answers below are unedited for content. Any typos, and errors otherwise, belong to me...
CM: First, "The Final Season" is destined to become the definitive movie of all-time concerning Norway's 1991 baseball team. Are you pleased with how it came out?
TA: Considering the time constraints for a movie and the difficulty in getting a movie made by Hollywood and distributed to theaters, I am very, very pleased with how it came out.I think its especially satisfying for the players (myself included) to see how many elements from the program and the 1991 season were actually worked into the film, albeit in slightly modified fashion:
a) Tyson Kimm’s (Tyler Kitt’s) failure to return for his Senior year in 1991. More playing time for me!
b) The long foul ball hit off Norway that was almost a home run. This actually happened to Jim Walter late in a sub-state or district game in 1991. Our season would have been over if it had been fair.
c) The effect that our pregame infield practice had on the opposing teams. Several years ago, I actually had a friend from CR Regis (his little brother plays a Norway player without a speaking role in the movie) tell me that his team had thoughts similar to those expressed by the Kennedy (High School) players in the film. Of course, my friend was talking about the Bobcat, er... Madison, infield from our senior year, but I know the same thing applied for Norway over the years.
d) The win over CR Jefferson in 1991 when Norway was ranked #1 in 1A and Jefferson was ranked #1 in 4A. What the movie didn’t tell was that, in the first game of the doubleheader, we were no-hit in 5 innings (maybe a perfect 5 innings, I can’t remember). Ask Harv (Editors' note: Brad Day)
about his game-winning hit in the nightcap. I got even with the Jefferson pitcher on the next pitch I saw from him a few years later. I hit a home run off of him in town team when he was pitching for Norway and I was playing for Walford (keep in mind how short the fences are in Walford). He threw the exact same pitch in the exact same location…
e) Kyle Schmidt hitting a gapper when we were behind in the final inning in the final game, down to our last strike and last out. Of course, in real life, this is exactly when his father Francis (“Schmitty”) was having his heart attack. It was not while driving the team bus.
f) A certain somebody sustaining a hand injury and returning for key contributions in the last game. (Editor: Awesome!)
g) The kids playing baseball on the farms as Stock was driving by in the opening of the movie. Jim (Schulte)
and I spent many hours doing that sort of stuff, and the guys who lived in town played “fast rubber” and “slow tennis.”
h) The actors who played Jim Van Scoyoc and Kent Stock portrayed the real men amazingly well.i) The Mitch Akers character was complete fiction but the haircut had a real life parallel. Ask Harv about his haircut that year. j) There were some days where we actually had a reporter traveling on the bus with us. CM: If you could-- or had to-- change any element of the film, what would it be?
TA: More screen time for Rachael Leigh Cook! Are all lawyers from Des Moines like that? Also, the Sammy character on the team; we never had anyone with an attitude like that.
CM: You must have been pleased with the work of the thirdbaseman during the scenes of the infield drills. He started a quick double-play. I thought he did you justice.
TA: I thought the movie did a really good job of filming the baseball scenes. I actually played 3B, SS, 2B, and RF that year, taking the place of whoever was pitching that game.
CM: Your image appeared specifically in the final shot of the film, when a team photo of the actor/players in the trophy case morphs into the real thing (Tim is on one knee at the far left of the front row). Also, I believe I saw you crossing home plate at one point during the archival game footage shot by one of the local TV stations. Did I miss any other Tim-sightings?
TA: I think I also saw myself (#22) for a split second in some old TV footage of the real team celebrating after a game. There's a really good but quick shot of Jim Schulte (#21, I think) at shortstop, taken from left field, in another clip of archival game footage. I think Harv's haircut might have been immortalized too, but I'll have to look for that on the DVD. Look for Jim Walter's old Rawlings glove being worn by Kevin Stewart (a.k.a. Kyle Schmidt?). There are two clips of Jim Walter (#31) driving in a run (me, the first time, and Shawn Moss, #27, the second time); Jim receives a different alias in each clip.
CM: Is that the trophy case as it still appears in the high school today?
TA: I heard that it was built specifically for the movie and was torn down after filming.
CM: I thought the Norway uniforms were completely accurate. What's a better look, the red Norway cap or Coach Stock in his St. Louis Cardinals cap? And before answering, recall that Stock wound up getting the girl.
TA: I think the Cardinals should have had to pay money to have their team promoted so heavily in the movie, like the other sponsors :)
CM: Did the players really pull that stunt with the volleyballs in the dugout? What about the stickball game in the school yard? Was that an actual pastime?
TA: I'm not aware of anything like the volleyball prank ever happening, definitely not to the extent pictured in the movie. Although it's been sixteen years, and it's always possible that someone pulled a prank similar to that on a much smaller scale. It could have happened away from practice where I wasn't aware of it. I wasn't always "in the know" back then (or now).
We really played a game called "fast rubber" against the old brick school, but not in the exact location shown in the movie and with real bats.
CM: You are one of only two people on the planet that has experienced both the thrill of winning a state baseball title and participating in the annual Moeller Television Festival. Which spectacle ranks higher in your memory? Which had better sandwiches?
TA: Winning a thousand state baseball titles could never compare with the thrill of attending a single Moeller Television Festival. I'll reserve comment on the sandwiches to give you motivation for even more outstanding sandwich excellence in this year's Moeller Television Festival. Don't let this be "The Final Festival."
CM: What's next for Tim Arp?
TA: Well, I've hired an agent to help me pitch a movie script I've written about a pair of twins who start an APBA league... (Editor's link.)
Editor's final note: Announcement on "Moeller Television Festival VI" coming soon. Thanks, Tim.
The National League pennant high
Congratulations to the Colorado Rockies for supplanting the Cardinals as National League Champions. In tribute to the '07 Champs, here's
John Denver singing "Rocky Mountain High" in 1974. I'll be pulling hard for the Rockies in the Series.
"The Final Season" review
I took in the film "The Final Season" last night at the Wynnsong Theater in Cedar Rapids and the official verdict from the CM Blog comes in as a "flawed but decent." First, this
spoiler warning: Norway wins.
The feature, as expected, is a fine tribute to the history of Norway, Iowa high school baseball-- a tremendously successful program to which I grew up a neighbor roughly 10 miles to the north; and it is a valentine to the school's "final season" on the diamond in 1991, to which I was a rooter and a part-time spectator as a 10th grader at Benton Community, the school into which Norway would consolidate a year later and which refused to allow its name to be used in the film without final script approval by its school board.
I would hereby like to apologize for every comment I've made on the blog previously in reference to that board decision, and particularly for my use of the word "chicken" at one or several points to describe it. I think I was prone to believe that this was the case in the aftermath of the superfluous edits that the same board made to my graduation speech in '93, but the board made the correct "out" call on this one.
I'm not sure exactly why such an interesting and already naturally-thrilling narrative had to be dumbed-down with caricature villains like the opposing pitcher from South Clay in the championship game, or more so, of course, the head of the shared school board that forced the consolidation. If you loved Idi Amin in "The Last King of Scotland," you'll love Harvey Makepeace, superintendent of "Madison" High School in "The Final Season." I gather Makepeace is intended to be a stand-in for the real superintendent of the time, Harold Merchant, who always seemed a decent enough fellow to me, and who I sincerely doubt was actually maneuvering behind the scenes to sabotage the last of Norway's baseball campaigns. I must have been busy studying during the moment in history when the answer to whether the final Norway baseball season would be played was in limbo, because it seems only natural in retrospect that the full school activity schedule of the '90-'91 year would play out through the term.
I thought the well-worn cliches of many other designed-to-be-uplifting sports films were expertly avoided during the scenes that conveyed action on the diamond, such as the winning run scoring on a tag play that wasn't altogether that close, or just the general sense throughout that the school wasn't
expected to lose, but even the Norwegians, perhaps
especially the Norwegians, would have to admit to a few cringes upon hearing lines such as "we grow baseball players like corn." Also, though admittedly not being present at any of the board meetings during the consolidation debate, I'd like to believe that the future of the baseball squad wasn't the only topic of conversation broached during the question and answer periods.
The town meeting scenes begged, but clumsily dismissed, interesting questions about the fates of small rural communities everywhere, and the subject would seemingly interest theater-going audiences even in towns where they don't differentiate their baseballs from their nectarines, but the villain in that flick wouldn't be Harvey Makepeace, it might be Stan Willhelp, a name I just made up and a stand-in for the Sam Walton corporate socialists of the world who have annihilated our rural main streets.
Lest we not forget, after all, that Norway High School was itself a consolidated school, and we'll pause now for just a moment to recall the lost identities of tiny Watkins and Walford, Iowa, and for each of the individual one- and two-room schoolhouses from township to township that shuttered during the first two decades of the century to make room for a bright and golden 20th century for the Norway Tigers, for the ballplayers as well as the "math-letes."
But I digress. I was absolutely tickled that the script included the story about the ball supposedly slugged by Hal Trosky one afternoon during the 1920s that reached the train tracks behind the right field fence. My late Grandpa Moeller, coincidentally, would be one of those "old-timers" referenced who repeated that story and I've been telling it myself for more than 15 years. Trosky (originally Trojovsky, 2nd generation Bohemian-American, and buried in St. Michael's Cemetery in Norway) was perhaps the best of the Norway-produced big-leaguers-- the all-time home run leader for the Cleveland Indians franchise before Albert Belle started swinging. I was a tad disappointed though that former catcher and Cubs' manager Bruce Kimm and ALCS MVP of 1983 Mike Boddicker were not mentioned on-screen as conquering Norway heroes in the big leagues as well. Boddicker was at least listed in the credits as a consultant for the film.
I've always felt somewhat alienated by this fact, but I find Tom Arnold to be a winning presence in almost everything he does, and detoxing "Deadwood" fans will be salivating with no less than four actors from that television series appearing here-- Powers Boothe, as Coach Jim Van Scoyoc, his daughter Parisse, as Jean Marie, Dayton Callie, as Mr. Stewart, the bus driver with the Honest Abe beard, and Marshall Bell, as Harvey Makepeace, complete with the lacking morals of "Deadwood's" Magistrate Claggett. (From the end of season one, people.)
Kudos to the film's producers for including some profane language throughout, and for not presenting the Norway players as just a collection of altar boys, though many of them actually
were altar boys, and thank the heavens that most of the Norway players, in actuality, only used chewing tobacco and not cigarettes, like the Chicago transplant of the film, "Mitch Akers." As Benton Community students, we were never subject to a lot of second hand smoke from our new classmates, only to a solid number of boys spitting their chaw into discarded soda cans.
Finally then, and as important as anything else, I thought my home county looked absolutely gorgeous on the big screen. As with the films "Field of Dreams," "The Bridges of Madison County," and "The Straight Story" before it, "The Final Season" portrays Iowa as it is-- quite possibly the most beautiful of any corner in the world. That makes us all look good.
Chris plays network executive
During my down time at work today, I came up with this exercise: We'll consider the greatest television shows of all-time and place the best of the best on a network prime-time schedule. We've got 22 hours of television a week to fill-- 7 to 10 central time, plus the 6 to 7 revolution on Sundays. But here's the imposed limitation-- the shows in question can only be scheduled on a night and time in which they originally aired, at least on a semi-regular basis. Think of it as an All-Star team, or All-Star line-up, which it is, and no performer can play out of position.
Below you'll find the results of my exercise-- personal favorites on an evening to evening schedule that leaves no time remaining for a social life of any kind. Now that Tivo, digital recording, and Netflix are combining to make time slots obsolete anyway, perhaps we can consider this list the final, definitive record. If your favorite show doesn't appear, chances are it originally aired on a Sunday or Monday night, as those slots, I found, were loaded for bear. I believe every show is scheduled within at least one half hour of its most common and noted timeslot, or at least in a slot where it aired for a single season (a la "Roseanne").
"Moonlighting" gets credit for being the only show on the list that I can confirm actually referenced its time slot during the show, but "60 Minutes" accurately
describes its time slot. Thankfully for the flexibility of this project, though unfortunate at the time, "Newsradio" and "WKRP in Cincinnati" were shuffled frequently across the schedule during their broadcast runs, but in my alternate universe, their producers will never have to worry again about being relocated in the TV Guide.
I'm terribly pleased with these results, particularly the rhythm of each evening's schedule. For added fun, imagine each weeknight slate followed by the late night stylings of Carson, Letterman, and Costas, and you'll sleep right through "The Price is Right" the next day.
It's a weeklong TV Festival of the imagination!
Sunday
6-7-- 60 Minutes (CBS)
7-7:30-- The Simpsons (FOX)
7:30-8-- King of the Hill (FOX)
8-9-- The Sopranos (HBO)
9-10-- Deadwood (HBO)
Monday
7-7:30-- The Andy Griffith Show (CBS)
7:30-8-- Newhart (CBS)
8-8:30-- M*A*S*H (CBS)
8:30-9-- The Bob Newhart Show (CBS)
9-10-- Northern Exposure (CBS)
Tuesday
7-7:30-- Roseanne (ABC)
7:30-8-- Newsradio (NBC)
8-9-- Moonlighting (ABC)
9-10-- Frontline (PBS)
Wednesday
7-7:30-- WKRP in Cincinnati (CBS)
7:30-8-- Frasier (NBC)
8-8:30-- The Larry Sanders Show (HBO)
8:30-9-- Taxi (ABC-NBC)
9-10-- Lost (ABC)
Thursday
7-7:30-- The Cosby Show (NBC)
7:30-8-- Cheers (NBC)
8-8:30-- Seinfeld (NBC)
8:30-9-- 30 Rock (NBC)
9-10-- LA Law (NBC)
Friday
7-8-- (This time set aside for human contact)
8-9-- Dallas (CBS)
9-10-- Bill Moyers Journal (PBS)
Saturday
7-7:30-- The Honeymooners (CBS)
7:30-8-- The Golden Girls (NBC)
8-9-- The Carol Burnett Show (CBS)
9-10-- Hawaii Five-O (CBS)
Shop for the complete season DVDs of your favorites at Amazon.com!
The bosses
You may not have received the office memo yet, but Boss Day is a week from today, October 16th. Referenced alternately as Bosses Day, Boss's Day, Boss Day, or National Boss Day, this Hallmark holiday is one of the greatest frauds ever forced upon the American people. It's bad enough that our government did away with May Day, or what was traditionally known as "International Workers' Day," commemorating the execution of martyrs arrested in the Haymarket Riot in Chicago in 1886. They replaced it instead with the ever-popular "Loyalty Day" during the height of the Red Scare in 1958, and then tried to pass off Labor Day in its place, a completely innocuous celebration that today means more as the last day of summer vacation than as a day of any social significance. Revolution successfully averted.
I'll sign the cards at work, and I like my bosses fine, but I won't be chipping in for Boss Day gifts-- ever. I didn't get any gifts on Labor Day, and we
all got the day off. Throughout the history of the United States, as precocious children ask their parents why there exists a Mothers' Day and a Fathers' Day, but no kids' day, the answer inveritably comes back, "Because
every day is kid's day," and indubitably it's true.
Every day in modern America is Bosses Day. Or Boss Day, or Boss's Day...
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Will Yankees manager Joe Torre have to buy a Boss's Day card this year? It remains to be seen. Club owner George Steinbrenner issued a seemingly uncontradictable ultimatum after the Yankees fell behind 0-2 to the Indians in their Division Series matchup-- win the series, or else, he proclaimed, and the New Yorkers fell in four. I've said before that Torre, the skipper behind four Yankees Championships between 1996 and 2000, lost any dignity he had on the entire employment matter long ago. He's allowed himself, and just as importantly, his coaches, to be pushed around by the Boss for a long enough time. Don Zimmer and Mel Stottlemyre are just a pair of a handful of coaches who have been scapegoated by the Yankee front office and uncerimoniously dumped after Steinbrenner's heavy spending and GM Brian Cashman's free agent splashes over a period of now seven years failed to deliver a world title.
This weekend, after a swarm of bugs caused untoward mayhem for only one of two teams on the diamond at Cleveland's Jacobs Field, Steinbrenner lashed out at retiring home plate umpire Bruce Froemming for failing to stop play during the bug-out. "He won't umpire our games anymore," Georgie proclaimed following the contest, but of course, oops, there was Bruce again moving to left field in the umpire rotation Sunday night, and then to right field for Game 4 on Monday. The 77-year-old Steinbrenner has lost so much gray matter in recent months that he's forgotten who he has the authority to fire and who he doesn't.
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I'm going without cable for a while so I was blacked out of the entire Division Series round of the playoffs except for the effort I expended to see the Cubs play on the tube Saturday night in what amounted to their final game of the season. Clearly, it's a stupid decision to move more games from broadcast to cable. It's your typically short-sided corporate decision that provides a fleeting financial boost, but causes long-term erosion in helping the product meet its largest size customer base. Soon, Major League Baseball will be headed down the primrose path, set forth by the NBA and NHL, to its own destruction. Fortunately, it's a superior product so it will never be completely destroyed.
The Division Series, as a concept, doesn't offer much historical significance so large audience be damned, I guess, but it's painful that the National League Championship Series is also banished to basic cable. Think of all of the magical moments that have taken place in the pennant clinching round of the post-season, from the Red Sox four-game comeback against the Yankees in 2004, to Adam Wainwright freezing Carlos Beltran with the bases loaded in the ninth inning of Game 7 last year, to Chris Chambliss, to Ozzie Smith, to Francisco Cabrera, to Steve Bartman. The one good thing about the move, though, is the fewer games broadcast by FOX. I don't care how much you love the game, no one can enjoy an entire month of games telecast with "FOX attitude." It's fucking exhausting. TBS, to its credit, has also been very respectful of baseball tradition by continuing to schedule the Yankees in prime-time.
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The next time we see the Chicago Cubs take the diamond, they'll be in the midst of their 100th season since their last World Championship back in 19-ought-eight. It's such a fascinating, and I must think, for them,
embarrassing title drought. I'm always looking for different ways to wrap my head around the numbers. Try this one out: my brother's favorite team, the Reds, has won five championships during the same century, and are, for Aaron, in the middle of a frustrating stretch that dates back to their world title in 1990, with just one post-season appearance (2 series) since. They have not claimed the ultimate title now for 17 seasons. He was 15 years old when they last hoisted the trophy, a sophomore in high school, and now he's 32. He still
lives like he's 15, but in many respects, he's now a completely different person. The championship took place in the first half of a lifetime that can actually recall a time when there wasn't a Bush or Clinton in the White House. Now think, when the Cubs' drought reached that same duration of time, it was still 1925. Phenomenal.
It least Zambrano will be well-rested, though.
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Baseball's post-season always makes me nostalgic for old Busch Stadium. (Has it been two years already?) There are only a couple places on Earth that I have warmer feelings for than that old beautiful baseball palace. Our eyes are often drawn back to such locales through pictures, but occasionally I'll catch a whiff of something that must be heated concrete or something. I'll pass by the scent in downtown Des Moines perhaps, and it smells just like the concourse outside old Busch.
Last night, my ears experienced a similar nostalgia. I came across a set of YouTube clips that had long-time Busch organist
Ernie Hays and
one of his successors performing some of their greatest hits. The boys still bang the keys at the new park, but the Yamaha AR100 never sounded better than when the notes were reverberating off those concrete arches atop the old yard.
Sound warning. And great music warning also.
Bright Lights, Little City
The neon lights of Hollywood shine on Norway and Cedar Rapids, Iowa later today as the invitation-only
premiere of "The Final Season" takes place at the Wehrenberg Galaxy 16 Cine in Cedar Rapids. If you've missed the connection in previous posts, or from the various wire services, the film tells the story of the final baseball season of tiny Norway High School in the summer of 1991. The following year the school consolidated with a larger institution of academia, Benton Community, my alma mater, though you won't see the name "Benton" depicted on screen because their school administrators are chicken. Evidently, some or all of the administrators will be portrayed as the "heavies" in the film.
I was a sophomore on the baseball team at Benton in 1991 so the Norway players that didn't graduate following "The Final Season" became our teammates in '92 in the story that I gather will become the sequel. ("
The Son of the Final Season[?]") Much like "The Empire Strikes Back," this sequel would be much darker than the original in both narrative and tone.
Two good friends of mine, and former classmates and teammates, Tim Arp and Jim Schulte, neither of whom have given me permission to use their names in this post, were key members of the '91 Norway squad. Tim played third base and Jim played second so remember these two positions when you're watching the games portrayed on film in your local theater next weekend. I'm guessing, though, based on the movie's
trailer, that their portrayers will have been given much longer, Ashton Kutcher-style haircuts to match the popular look of today. Just know that the haircuts that Jim and Tim had in the early '90s were just as trendy at the time.
The movie opens large on Thursday. I hope to have a review posted within a couple weeks, and would love to hear your reactions to it also. I'll attend in either Des Moines or Cedar Rapids, depending on the schedules of friends and family. I'd simply like to encourage everyone to see and support this movie, which stars Sean Astin, Rachel Leigh Cook, Tom Arnold, and "Deadwood's" Powers Boothe. If we don't back it, they'll never film the story of the consolidation of
Newhall High School into Benton Community back in 1966. That's just the way Hollywood works.
Newhart as legend
It's a wondrous moment in history to be a fan of Bob Newhart, the master of comic timing and delivery. DVD's of the CBS classic ' "The Bob Newhart Show" (1972-1978) have been recently released, as has a concert recording of a 1995 Showtime special "Bob Newhart: Off the Record," which was essentially an hour-long greatest hits performance featuring the most beloved nightclub bits from the "Dean of Deadpan."
This past Tuesday, Bob's 2006 autobiography, "I Shouldn't Even Be Doing This: And Other Things That Strike Me As Funny," was released in paperback, and Bob has been making the rounds on television, including a stop to chat with
David Letterman Friday night. The title of the book alludes to an old gag about a man having an affair with his boss' wife. In the throes of passion one night, the wife cries out "Kiss Me! Kiss Me!" and the man replies, "I shouldn't even be doing
this."I've had the chance to see Bob in concert a couple times since the hardcover edition of the book was released, and his stand-up routine now blends a few hilarious anecdotes about friends and mentors. My favorite appears on page 8 of the book, and comes from the man to whom nearly every comedian seems to credit for part of their professional inspiration, Jack Benny.
Bob writes:
The greatest comedian I've ever seen is Jack Benny. He wasn't afraid of the silences. Once Benny was following the Will Maston Trio with Sammy Davis Jr. They absolutely killed. The audience was still applauding for them when Benny walked onstage. He complimented them and started his routine."In the afternoon, I like to have some tea. I go in the coffee shop, around four o'clock or four-fifteen." Pause. "More like four-thirty." (Terrifically unnecessary information, by the way.) Pause. "So I went into the coffee shop... I did a movie with an English actor whose name I couldn't remember... he was in the coffee shop, but I couldn't remember his name..."Here Benny stopped for what seemed like an eternity. "I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence. "I promised Sammy Davis Jr. that he could do another number. Let's hear another number from him."Everyone dutifully applauded, and Sammy reappeared onstage. He performed "Birth of the Blues," and destroyed the audience again. Benny returned to the stage, himself applauding, and watched Sammy and the band walk off. When the applause finally died down, Benny said, "Nevil. That was his name... Nevil."
Dismantling the ranch
Fans of the HBO series "Deadwood" haven't given up hope that a resurrection will take place that will give the show a proper send-off, either in the form of a one or two-part feature on the network, as has been long-rumored, or better yet, a full fourth and concluding season.
The writing's on the wall, however. Actor Ian McShane, who portrays Al Swearingen,
tells an on-line columnist that the sets have come down. And he sounds pissed. W. Earl Brown, who plays Dan Doherty,
has gone into greater detail on his myspace page.
HBO has also shared
its side of the story in a letter sent to one of the series' ardent fans, but I'm not buying it. The network execs have clearly made a bottom-line decision, one that cuts against the loyalty of some of their most committed viewers, so I'm sure they won't take it personally if I make a sound financial decision for myself as well. With "The Sopranos" gone, and now "Deadwood," and "The Wire" surviving for just one season more, they will be left with just 10 half-hours a year of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," for my taste. I can't justify a premium price each month for that limited amount of quality entertainment. I've devoted a fair amount of space on this blog to promoting the HBO network, but my point of reference ended when I changed living quarters. There's no reason to start a subscription in my new dwelling now. I'll put the money towards principal on the mortgage.
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It was shades of last year's Kenny Rogers World Series debacle as Colorado Rockies closer Manny Corpas was caught on camera Wednesday afternoon pouring something liquid onto his jersey in the bullpen, then appearing to mix the liquid with dirt on his hands after taking the hill for the ninth inning of Colorado's Division Series game against Philadelphia. Reason #706 that Major League Baseball should forbid teams from using the dark-colored softball-style jerseys.
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The Nation on Sarah Silverman.
Stephen Metcalf on Bruce Springsteen.
The return of bathtub gin in Iowa City?
The prohibitionists are slow learners.
In Iowa City, Iowa, residents will go to the polls November 6th to vote on an ordinance that would block entry into the city's bars for those adults under 21 years of age. Drinking on college campuses, such as that of the University of Iowa, has gotten desperately out of control over the last two or three generations to the point that binge-drinking is a national health epidemic.
Dr. Rick Dobyns, a geriatrician at University Hospitals, is leading the charge to deny bar entry for these legal adults age 18 to 21, "We have people all over the Midwest send us their children to grow. We should provide them an environment to do so."
So let's talk about that environment. The one that exists today on college campuses all across America, including the U of I, is one in which drinking is glamorous, outlaw behavior. The difference between their environs and that of the nation at large during the disastrous alcohol prohibition of the 1920s is, in effect, nothing at all. An anachronistic, archaic law is flaunted and ignored because it cannot be policed and because it defies human nature. Young adults living on their own for the first time are doing exactly what we expect them of them-- attempting to develop their individual identities and searching for a niche for themselves in the adult world. They're questioning the merit and inherent logic of everything they've been taught, which we should encourage in a nation overrun with corporate drones and global ambivalence, and not surprisingly, they find something lacking in our discriminatory drinking laws.
If legal adults under 21 are kept out of the social establishments in Iowa City, the results there will simply mirror those across the state in Ames, home of Iowa's land-grant university and long-time age-discriminatory socialization restrictions: Parties will rage ever larger off-campus where law enforcement is more restricted in access, and bars competing for a smaller pool of customers will be more likely to offer cheaper drinks that encourage excessive drinking.
The solution is to decriminalize--nationally-- legal adults enjoying legal drink. The subject was broached during the Democratic party's presidential debate on MSNBC in September, but only candidates Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel had the stones to say they supported the drinking rights of Americans old enough to die in Iraq. The 21-year-old age requirement for legal drink is not preventing the further social damage of youth binging, it's fueling it. Has it occurred to anyone that the reason these young men and women are not acting like adults is because they're not being treated as such?
Choke job
At least the Mets collapsed.
The sting of the Cubs claiming the National League Central Division flag was salved by the epic collapse of one of the most overhyped teams in professional sports, the New York Mets. Blowing a 7 game lead with 17 games left to play was even sweeter because of the embarassing turn taken by Mets shortstop Jose Reyes, that dugout dancin' machine who so charmed FOX cameramen with his hot dog antics throughout last season's NLCS. Reyes didn't run out a ground ball on Saturday, apparently a somewhat common occurrence for him during the regular season, and was booed at Shea Stadium all day Sunday for his trespasses, even before nearly taking a swing at Marlins' catcher Ramon Castro after a dustup on the basepaths.
Our grand game came through for us again on Sunday. Fortunately, the Wild Card system didn't wind up muddying what was a great race from start to finish in the NL's Eastern Division, beginning with Jimmy Rollins' proclamation in January that the long-suffering Phils were "the team to beat" in the division this year. The Phillies and Mets entered the last day of the season tied for first, with both teams matched against a division opponent, and both teams starting a 40-plus-year-old pitcher-- Tom Glavine for New York (41) and Jamie Moyer for Philly (45 next month.) Moyer delivered five solid innings with no earned runs allowed against the Nationals, while Glavine coaxed only one out, spotting Florida seven runs in the first frame. Once again, the beauty of the game lies in its symmetry and contrast.
As they're wont to do when they're not wildly overpraising the Mets, Yankees, and Red Sox, the east coast sports media kicked it into high gear last night piling on the Mets for their misfortune. They were preparing the guillotine this morning for manager Willie Randolph and his staff, and they're ready to ride Glavine out on a rail, still furious that the team fantastically overpaid now five seasons ago for the senior citizen version of the hurler who long tormented the club while pitching for the Braves.
I usually avoid
Mike Lupica like the plague, but I had to go in search of the Daily News columnist's piece this morning just to experience him directing his whiny wrath on his hometown heroes. You know Mike as the guy on ESPN's "Sports Reporters" Sunday mornings whose petulant, high-pitched voice makes you want to hurl your half-eaten grapefruit at the TV screen. He took it relatively easy on the Mets today, but on rather a side note, after reading the column, I noticed the out and out lie in his Daily News bio.
It reads that Lupica has "written or co-written
four (my italics) previous non-fiction books"- 'Reggie,' the autobiography of Reggie Jackson, 'Parcells,' about football coach Bill Parcells, 'Wait 'Till Next Year,' (evidently not about the 2006 Mets, though they choked not unlike this year's version of the team), and 'Shooting From the Lip,' a collection of columns. He completely leaves out, however, a best-seller entitled 'Summer of '98'. Yes, fans, that's correct-- long before the self-proclaimed 'Lip' (thieving the late Leo Durocher's nickname) was one of the sports media's top steroid hunters, Lupica attempted to cash in at your local Barnes and Noble over the home run exploits of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, who he now derides at every turn. Since he's wiped the slate clean on his professional biography, do you suppose he's also returned the earnings for this 1999 book release?
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2007 was a season-long nightmare for the Cardinals. Their manager was arrested for drunk driving during spring training and their ace pitcher blew out his elbow on opening day. Next, imagine a
Thurman Munson-like and
Tony Conigliaro-like tragedy in the same season (i.e. Josh Hancock's traffic death and Juan Encarnacion's hideous beaning), and a popular veteran, Scott Spiezio, forced to enter rehab for substance abuse. The Cards just narrowly avoided leading the National League in negative run differential for the first time since 1916. But even when the team didn't display a world of talent, they displayed a world of resolve, finishing the lost season even with a five game winning streak.
I'd like to say just this then, finally, about our best player, Albert Pujols, the greatest in the game. His consistent brilliance causes him to be overlooked when others like Ryan Howard and Alex Rodriguez grab the headlines for break-out individual seasons, but Albert put it all together again in 2007. He batted below his career average at .327, drove in
only 103 runs, hit a career-low 32 home runs, and scored
only 99 runs, his first time with fewer than triple-digit plate tallies, but he walked a career-high 99 times, compared with just 58 strikeouts, and he batted in perhaps the most unfortunate batting order position in baseball relative to his ability. At least as of two weeks ago, the Cardinals' clean-up position, directly behind Pujols in the #3 hole, had the lowest OPS (slugging plus on-base percentage) of any batting order position on any team relative to the league average, and the Cardinals' leadoff spot, table-setting ahead of Pujols, was also in the top 5 in that category (out of 270, according to my math). Pujols' immense talent and his almost supernatural willfullness in propelling his club is the reason a 104-run differential resulted in only a 78-84 season, instead of a 92 or 93 loss season. Mild consolation, though. Next year, we need some damn pitching.
