the life of kings

vince fumo is no different than holocaust victims

2009-08-14T20:28:00.002-04:00

Don't take my word for it: His Vinceness said so himself, right here in John Baer's column in today's Philadelphia Daily News. It seems the Vince of Darkness wants a new trial. Here's the money quote from Baer's piece:

In a series of telephone and e-mail interviews this week, Fumo opened up about his feelings. Better buckle up for this:
"I always think of the Jews and others who were forced into the Nazi concentration camps for doing absolutely nothing. So many times bad things happen to good people and the only way to survive is to look forward not backward."

Like, wow.

les paul, r.i.p.

2009-08-14T18:06:00.002-04:00

You likely won't listen to a piece of popular music without hearing Les Paul's singular influence. He invented the solid-body electric guitar, but his other innovations like multi-track recording changed everything, plain and simple. Born Lester William Polsfuss, his career stretched back to the days of Louis Armstrong and Bing Crosby, but modern rockers from Jimmy Page to Bruce Springsteen to Slash consider themselves in his debt. As should we. Dead at 94. RIP.

rod woodson gets his due

2009-08-13T21:55:00.006-04:00

Rod Woodson, one of the life of kings' all-time favorite Steelers, was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame on Saturday. And he made it -- deservedly so -- in his first year of eligibility.

The great No. 26 combined speed, strength and athleticism to such a degree that many of those who were around him in the early days of his career are still in awe of how good he was, as this late-June story from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reveals.

Woodson's career brings back a few distinct memories:

1) Video footage on the news every night of him hurdling somewhere in Europe during his rookie-year holdout in 1987.

2) The fumble he forced and recovered that led to the game-winning field goal to beat the Houston Oilers on the road in overtime in the 1989 playoffs.

3) The way he'd take risks and sometimes get beat deep, which was OK because more often than not he'd also jump a route a make a play.

4) Barry Sanders making a cut and forcing Woodson to tear the ACL in his right knee on the Three Rivers Stadium ~~concrete~~ turf in the 1995 season opener. He would later return for Super Bowl XXX against the Cowboys -- still the only player to come back from such an injury in the same season -- only to have Michael Irvin joke that Woodson would have to cover "the human Autobahn." And, at one point, after Woodson broke up a pass intended for Irvin, he promptly stood in front of Irvin and pointed at the knee. Which was just awesome.

5) His departure after the 1996 season. Eagles fans chagrined over Brian Dawkins, I know how you feel.

6) His finally winning a ring with the Baltimore Ravens in 2000. Wait. I wish I didn't remember that.

Hats off, Rod, the first post-70s Steeler to get into the Hall. For an additional stroll down memory lane, Steel Curtain Rising has published an excellent recap of Woodson's best moments as a Steeler here.

Now, can we do something about getting Dick LeBeau's and Dermontti Dawson's busts into Canton?

the welcome honesty of (500) days of summer

2009-08-10T02:26:00.001-04:00

"This is not a love story," the narrator warns in the early moments of (500) Days of Summer, the directorial debut of filmmaker Marc Webb that recently hit theaters. But what this is, we are reminded moments later, is "a story about love." And there's a difference. A profound one, in fact. And it's one that Hollywood typically does not wish to explore, though (500) Days does with aplomb.

"The governing commerical calculus these days," according to A.O. Scott, a film critic for The New York Times, "seems to be that dudes want smut, ladies want weddings, and a picture (like "The Hangover," say) that delivers both will make the audience happy and the studios rich."

Love stories, after all, usually work out, at least according to the standard contrivances of most romantic comedies. But in real life, stories about love often do not work, and such candor is precisely what makes (500) Days a delightfully brave departure from the norm. We learn almost right away that the "love story" we are about to see is doomed, so what we're left with is "a story about love" that proceeds to provide the process of its slow demise in all its messy, mangled, gut-wrenching glory.

And that process -- our knowing the end, but not the means -- is part of what makes 500 Days work so well. The story of Summer Finn (Zooey Deschanel) and Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is not told chronologically, but rather with a narrative that deftly cuts back-and-forth through various high and low points in their time together. "The structure," as Ross Douthat writes in National Review, "fits with the way failed relationships are remembered -- not as a long descent from joy to sorrow, but as a jumble of competing memories, all of them potent, none of them lost."

Webb's other gimmicks -- a silly musical scene, characters occasionally talking directly to the camera, a fantastic split-screen sequence in which the lines of "Expectation" and "Reality" are clearly demarcated -- further feed our interest even though we're well aware that the conclusion is pre-ordained. As the film plays out, the subtle clues pointing to what's "wrong" begin to pile up, even if it's not obvious that they should: Tom and Summer seem perfect together, but something's just not right, and it never will be. She's just not that into him, to invert another recent Hollywood storyline.

Visually, the film provides a new way of looking at the urban beauty of Los Angeles that is also not what we're used to seeing on-screen. And then there's Tom and Summer, who more or less (though not entirely) fit the template for the quirky, quasi-hipster couples who have come along recently in films like Juno and Garden State: He's the skinny boy with the cool clothes, the occasional awkwardness and the creative passion he's either afraid or unwilling to take a risk for; she's got that achingly adorable look, that style and flair that never seems to cease, that awesome knack for doing something -- anything -- that brings a smile just when a smile seems to be needed most.

But in both Juno and Garden State, the love stories are a secondary concern. Juno is primarily about a teen pregnancy that's told from a female point-of-view, while Garden State -- as Douthat makes clear -- is built upon the male lead's attempts at achieving self-discovery. By contrast, in (500) Days, as Douthat writes, Tom has "been absolutely and completely destroyed by her -- and this, not his self-actualization or career awakening, is the substance of the movie and the source of its interest and appeal."

Gary Thompson of the Philadelphia Daily News writes that some critics have compared Gordon-Levitt's performance to that of a young Marlon Brando. High praise, to be sure, but Gordon-Levitt does indeed bring a genuine intensity to a role in which his character labors to understand that which seems to make no sense: He's the one who's helplessly stuck between hopeless and romantic, and he more than ably adjusts his emotions accordingly. Deschanel's Summer, by contrast, is presented as little more than an unattainable object of male affection. Other than the impact of her parents' divorce, we learn little about her apart from what she slowly begins to share with Tom, though even that amounts to very little. Some critics have chastised the film for this alleged flaw, but it in fact serves to make its point: Love is not something that can be forced, or willed into being. It's either there or it isn't, and it's often beyond the realm of reason or logic to try to justify the cold reality of that immutable truth.

in due time, the pittsburgh pirates will pay you to come see them

2009-08-06T18:28:00.003-04:00

This is just too much: The Pittsburgh Pirates, who just finished ~~burning the village in order to save it~~ trading everyone on the roster in order to -- all together now -- "rebuild" for "the future," announced today that they are extending a promotion by which there are no fees for purchasing tickets online to any home game for the remainder of the season. Which, on the face of it, ain't a bad idea. But the laugh track kicks in once you read the promotion itself, which says -- without a whiff of irony -- that the extension was made "due to popular demand." This from a team that failed to draw 12,000 fans to any of its three home games so far this week. Yep. Get 'em while you can, people. Amazing this team shares a zip code with the Steelers and Penguins.

rupert murdoch can't be serious

2009-08-05T20:57:00.002-04:00

Ah, gentle reader, but he is: The swashbuckling media tycoon is ready to charge for all of the online content in his vast enterprise, according to the Financial Times. Now, Murdoch's ability to run a business is renowned, even if MySpace once seemed poised to take over the world until right about the time Ol' Rupert's News Corp enterprise took it over and allowed it to get lapped by Facebook. But whatever. The idea that the newspaper industry can be saved by charging readers for content was a great idea -- back before every paper on earth began giving their content away for free. That horse left the barn a long time ago, and it ain't coming back just because Murdoch decrees that it will. The lesson of the onlinetwitterblog revolution is that people demand infomation instantly. And if they ain't getting it over here, they'll go over there. Simple as that.

there is justice in the fumo case after all

2009-07-31T13:19:00.003-04:00

Breaking news from The Inquirer that His Vinceness must forfeit his six-figure pension as a result of his corruption conviction. His prison sentence is still a joke, but at least he'll collect no more than a single, five-figure sum for the remainder of his life for his arrogant betrayal of the public trust. Which is a win for beleaguered taxpayers. And if you haven't seen it, check out Ralph Cipriano's post-mortem on the trial in the August issue of Philadelphia magazine, which includes an in-depth interview with The Vince of Darkness, plus an inside look at how and why the jury came to conclude he was guilty. The following exchange from the trial -- plus Fumo's subsequent assessment of it -- between Our Boy and prosecutor John Pease is especially indicative of the man's breathtaking sense of entitlement:

Fumo: “Oh, I probably should have told her to go to the second floor, rather than do it in the basement, yes.”
Pease: “Because it’s a violation of state law for you to have your employee using state facilities, state equipment, to work on campaigns, correct?”
Fumo: “It is, it is. It’s also a violation to spit on the sidewalk, although I don’t know that it’s enforced.”
“That was a little flippant,” Fumo now concedes.

Ya think?

pennsylvania: where the rich and powerful can commit fraud with virtual impunity

2009-07-15T21:21:00.001-04:00

Let's begin with this: Yesterday's sentencing of former state senator Vince Fumo was not all that surprising. His Vinceness got 55 months (!) despite being convicted of all 137 counts (!) of fraud by a jury back in March. The trial, which had lasted for months, was riveting. But federal judge Ronald L. Buckwalter, after hearing from so many "character" witnesses, decided The Vince of Darkness deserved far less than the 11-to-14-year guideline he had previously outlined. Many of us had been delighted by The Vince's conviction and ~~likely~~ possible lengthy prison sentence, hoping that it would send a message that public officials -- especially those scumbags in Harrisburg -- would think twice about betraying the public trust. As if. Not that we shouldn't have seen it coming, mind you. After all, according to Will Bunch's Attytood blog at Philly.com:

[I]n one of those only-in-Philly political moments, Fumo was actually facing felony charges for putting "ghost employees" on the state payroll in 1978, the same year he was elected a senator. A jury of his "peers" -- i.e., regular schlubs like you and me -- voted unanimously to find Fumo guilty. But a federal judge -- one of his real peers -- threw the conviction out. Talk about foreshadowing!

The entire charade is an outrage, people. And given that Harrisburg can't get a budget together (more on that in the near future), and that one longtime state senator has breathtakenly (and remorselessly) charged taxpayers to rent an office building in a business owned by him and his wife, it's all the more discouraging. Where, to borrow a tired and empty campaign cliche, is the change we can believe in? Then again, what do we expect when we'd rather have blanket coverage of Michael Jackson's death? Fact is, we deserve this, until we prove otherwise.

does this mean the ayatollahs in iran are michigan fans?

2009-06-16T17:51:00.002-04:00

Sure looks like it, at least according to this photo, which we found today on Deadspin. It's been a while. But we're back. the life of kings is back.

"pitt basketball" and "jinx" is redundant anyway

2008-11-13T18:52:00.004-05:00

On one hand, this is way cool: DeJuan Blair, he of the monster smile and monster game, gracing the cover of Sports Illustrated's College Basketball Preview issue. On the other hand, there's the notorious SI cover jinx, which posits that any subject gracing the cover of said magazine is doomed to endure some awful misfortune in the near future. But, really, if, like the life of kings, you're a Pitt fan, anytime before March is generally as good as it gets: A top 10 preseason ranking (SI has them No. 7 -- one of four Big East Conference teams in the Top 7), some big wins, perhaps another conference tournament title at Madison Square Garden, and then ... flop. A guaranteed early-out in the NCAA tournament. Pitt fans are accustomed to disappointment, you see. We're immune to jinxes, because the team we root for is an automatic letdown. They're guaranteed. It may even be somewhere in the academic curriculum, in fact. So let us now bask in the glory of having D-Blair on the cover, and let us crow about how good we think they're gonna be. Because deep down, we're already prepared for what's coming.

the life of kings returns to campus

2008-10-21T15:21:00.001-04:00

Come to La Salle University for Homecoming this Saturday and getcha learn on.

"my friends," lanny frattare is retiring

2008-10-01T19:32:00.004-04:00

Baseball, with its pauses, its gentle rhythms, its sudden bursts of excitement, seems almost meant to be listened to, as opposed to watched on television. And so it is that people who love baseball also develop a certain connection with the people who broadcast their favorite team's games on the radio. And while Phillies fans are certainly spoiled to have the whiskey-and-cigarettes-cured voice of Harry Kalas talking to them every night, there can be no doubting that Pirates fans of a certain age (ahem) have a great affection for Lanny Frattare, who announced his retirement today after 33 seasons behind the mic. Was Frattare the greatest? Hardly. Was he a bit of a homer? Sure. But so what? His voice will always be the sound I associate with the summertime of my childhood. Years ago, before most of the games were broadcast on television, my dad would always have the Pirates on the radio: in the kitchen, in the car, on the little transistor he would sometimes use with one of those ancient white ear-plug thingys. And more often than not, it was Frattare doing the talking, beginning each broadcast with his trademark, "My friends..." before punctuating the conclusion of every Pirates victory with "And there was nooooooo doubt about it." OK, so that latter call was derivative of Bob Prince's "We had 'em all the way," but Frattare had the unenviable task of replacing the beloved Gunner -- and he still managed to last three decades in doing it, more than anyone else in the franchise's history. Unlike many broadcasters who came on in more recent times, Frattare was measured and even-keeled, reserving his true enthusiasm for moments that genuinely deserved it -- something that, sadly, has happened less often than not in the team's current 16-season drought of losing. I guess I liked Frattare's low-key approach precisely because it was so unremarkable: I'd often forget about him in recent years until I'd be driving back to Pittsburgh before putting on the radio to simply check the score. But then I'd hear him, and suddenly I'd be transported back to a hot summer night in the backyard, complete with lightning bugs and crickets and the smell of tomatoes ripening in the garden as Frattare's voice slieced through the stillness with a careful narration of what came next. He will be missed.

the record-tying suckitude of the pittsburgh pirates

2008-09-10T17:28:00.003-04:00

They didn't let us down. Well, they couldn't, really, not with how God-awful they've been for so long. And not after their latest chapter of selling off veteran talent for ~~marginal at best~~ potential prospects this summer. But the Pittsburgh Pirates have done it: With Sunday's 11-6 loss to the Giants in San Francisco, they've officially clinched their 16th consecutive losing season, a mark of futility that ties the North American professional sports record. No easy task, to be sure. Cue the head-shaking reminisciences, and cue the usual taunts from the national media, complete with the falsehood that this streak began because the Pirates had chosen to keep Andy Van Slyke and not Barry Bonds way back when -- ignorant hindsight that ignores the fact that Bonds had wanted nothing to do with the Buccos after 1992. But whatever. We're stuck with them, and given the current state of affairs, there's really no telling how much longer such suckitude will go on. Heck, the one positive we had -- this summer's drafting and eventual signing of can't-miss third-base prospect Pedro Alvarez -- has since been taken from us, too, with no definitive end in sight. So there you have it. Pour yourself an Imp & an Iron, Pirates fans. Because they didn't let us down, even though that's all they've been doing for 16 consecutive seasons of sorry baseball. And counting.

g.w. miller on the evolution of journalism

2008-09-04T19:37:00.002-04:00

Interesting piece by Temple professor G.W. Miller III in the current Philadelphia Weekly about the future of journalism -- print, broadcast and online. Trust me: It's the kind of work you do because you love it. But it's the Wild, Wild West out there right now, and we'll have to see what happens...

the life of kings broadcasting division

2008-08-30T11:01:00.003-04:00

From the Department of Self-Promotion: I did play-by-play for a high school football game up in Bucks County last night for the web site of WPVI Channel 6, the local ABC affiliate here in Philly. The broadcast is archived at 6abc.com, and you can access it by clicking here. I was a last-minute choice and had zero time to prepare, but I was also on my own and doing this for the first time, so it's probably pretty bad. By the end of the game, when the action got good, I think I did OK. Or not. If you're in for a good laugh, check it out.

And yes, Pirates fans, I'll be weighing in on the sudden, dramatic turn in the Pedro Alvarez-Scott Boras situation before the weekend is out. Stay tuned.

thoughts on smoking in bars

2008-08-23T12:19:00.009-04:00

Love the above ad that Triumph Brewing Co. in New Hope circulated to promote last night, the final one in which smokers were permitted to light up inside the joint. A few too-serious types didn't find the ad that appealing, of course, especially the bit about kids. But whatever. You can read what I wrote about the whole deal in today's Intelligencer and Bucks County Courier Times here.

Bottom line: I'm a non-smoker, but I've never supported laws outlawing smoking in bars and restaurants, simply because there's nothing to stop a bar or restaurant from going smoke-free on its own. In other words, let the market decide. Besides, by all indications, many people will no longer patronize a bar that allows smoking, so the laws are quickly becoming superfluous. That said, if I wished to cater to smokers, why can't I? As for the puritans who justify their smoke-free stance in the name of public health, why are some private clubs and other places that don't serve a lot of food exempt from the law, according to the bottom of this Philadelphia Inquirer report? Are employees and patrons of those places somehow less affected by smoke? Talk amongst yourselves, people.

the terrible towel is everywhere...

2008-08-22T13:01:00.004-04:00

...including the Beijing Olympics, as indicated by the upper right corner of this photo of the women's beach volleyball medal ceremony. Beeker Buffoonery has the original screen capture from ESPN.com, but here's the photo anyway:

It's a Steeler Planet, people. Myron Cope would be proud, no doubt.

enjoy the olympics, even as they're held in a slave state

2008-08-18T18:00:00.004-04:00

It was impossible not to have watched Michael Phelps, if only to marvel at the utter dominance he displayed in the pool. It's cool, too, that professional ballers like Kobe & LeBron actually seem happy to be competing in Beijing, and that they're genuinely interested in, you know, winning. But let's not overlook the absurdity of staging the Olympics in a place like China. Let's not forget that the Olympic ideal of one-worldism is at best just that: an ideal. At its worst, it's a dog-and-pony show that places the smiley face of moral equivalance on free nations and slave states alike, thereby providing dictators and tyrants with an international stamp of approval. When you read stuff like what's being done to protesters in and around Beijing, when you learn that actually questioning public officials in China is a foreign concept, even for foreign journalists -- and remember, this is only what we know, what's in full view for those visiting to observe -- you're left hoping that maybe some of this information will get to and inspire those who know in their hearts they deserve better as human beings.

a new gizmothingamajiggy for your browsing pleasure

2008-08-16T12:30:00.002-04:00

My technological mastery (cough cough) continues: If you look to the left, you'll see I've added a search feature that will allow you to Google this site to find something that's been posted in the past, if that sort of thing is your bag and all. Pretty fancy, huh?

pirates sign alvarez, get to keep me as a fan

2008-08-16T11:01:00.007-04:00

They did it. I had my doubts, and it literally couldn't have taken even a minute longer, but the Pirates signed first-round draft pick Pedro Alvarez just before the midnight deadline last night. This is important, for several reasons, as I stated in an earlier dispatch. So let's give credit where credit is due to general manager Neal Huntington, who has touted building this team from the bottom-up (i.e., scouting & development) as his preferred method of rescuing this franchise: Alvarez is the precisely the sort of player the Pirates need to really kick-start things after years of posturing and giving fans little more than fireworks nights and bobblehead giveaways. But let's also breathe a sigh of relief, since I openly stated I would give up on the Buccos had they been unable to get Alvarez signed. I honestly didn't want to have to do that, to tell the truth. But whatever. They did it, and I'm still with them, which I'm proud to be saying this morning. Beat 'em Bucs, but let's start to see some results now, K?

while buddy guy's guitar (not-so) gently weeps

2008-08-14T22:16:00.006-04:00

You're looking at a grainy cell phone photo of the one and only bluesman Buddy Guy cryin' and wailin' his way through a set at the Mann Music Center in Philly this evening. My cousin, Jack McDaniel, was there to take in the awesome from five feet away, and he sent this along just a few minutes ago. Buddy was making his way through the crowd, much he like he did when my brothers and I saw him from the front row as he rocked some tent along the Monongahela River in Pittsburgh about 100 years ago. Damn right.

MUST READ: charlie leduff, writer, goes to china with robert frank, photographer

2008-08-12T23:33:00.012-04:00

MUST READ is a new, occasional feature here at the life of kings. With it, I will pass along something of particular interest for you to read and absorb, something that might make you laugh, cry, quiver, or just plain stop and think. The topic might concern sports, politics, art, movies, music, religion, culture, the stuff of living and dying. But the topic, I hope, will prove to be less important than the way in which it is conveyed, and the way in which you receive and interpret it. I hope you dig it, and I think you will. Enjoy.

Charlie LeDuff is a fantastic writer who has a knack for capturing the extraordinary lives of ordinary people. In 2004, he wrote a front-page story about a desert encampment of elderly drifters for The New York Times that remains a life of kings favorite for its detailed description of "a broken-down place of limited possibilities" for those who have "inherited the burden of living." LeDuff has also published a pair of books, one of which is Work and Other Sins: Life in New York City and Thereabouts, which is mostly a compilation of the "Bending Elbows" column he had written for The Times in the period before and after 9/11, plus numerous other short columns about the "fantastic nobodies" that populate New York City's streets and barrooms.

Not too long ago, LeDuff accompanied photographer Robert Frank, whom he describes as "the last human being to find anything new behind a viewfinder," to China, and he wrote about the trip for Vanity Fair. Frank's landmark book of black and white photographs, The Americans, turns 50 this year. As the 1950s gave way to the '60s, the book was considered groundbreaking for having foretold the social struggles that were to come -- a visual representation of what Jack Kerouac, in Desolation Angels, describes as "this modern America of crew cuts and sullen faces in Pontiacs." Frank commissioned Kerouac to write the book's introduction, and while LeDuff includes Kerouac's best quotes, it's worth noting that Kerouac also writes that the book captures "[t]hat crazy feeling in America when the sun is hot on the streets and the music comes out of the jukebox or from a nearby funeral." Or, as LeDuff writes:

The book became great for what it did in its time. Before Frank, the visual orientation of photographs had been straight, horizontal, vertical. The subject of the picture was always obvious. You knew what the picture was about and what it meant to say. Frank, the shadowy little man, came along and changed the angles, made graininess a virtue, obscure lighting a benefit. His pictures were messy; you weren’t sure what to feel, who or what to focus on. Perhaps more important, Frank intellectually changed photography — that is, what a photographer was supposed to look at. If Ansel Adams chose to capture the mightiness of nature, how could you argue with that? Where’s the fault in stone and sky and snow? There is no fault. And therein lies its fault. Frank snatched photography from the landscapists and the fashion portraitists and concentrated his lens on battered transvestites, women in housedresses, and sunken mouths. Life is not boulders and snow and perfume and chiffon. Life is difficult and sad and ephemeral. Life is flesh, not stone.

The Vanity Fair piece is LeDuff at his finest: getting to the center of his subject, even as difficult as it might be to understand him. Frank, to put it simply, epitomizes the mad genius of the artist: the selfishness, the limitlessness of his personal life, the willingness to sacrifice almost anything for the sake of his art:

Frank said he used to stare in on [Willem] de Kooning from his apartment on East Third Street, admiring not the work so much as the artist. “The abstraction, not with the brush but with the mind,” he said. “The simple self-centered intellectual life. He had a stove and a refrigerator and an easel and he would be in his underwear studying that canvas. This appealed very much to me. He made me think to take risks in life. That, for artistic freedom, you had to fight and suffer for people to accept it.”

There's so much more: from Frank's thoughts on digital photography and art school to his reminisciences (or what's left of them) of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac to working with the Rolling Stones during the manic sessions that created the epic album Exile on Main St. But LeDuff gets to the heart of the matter after relaying what happened to Frank's children, whom the old man ackowledges he more or less ignored:

That, we both agreed, is the fantastic and fatal blessing of the American life. One can choose to be whatever one wants in America without the constraints of societal mores. One can live in Switzerland or China, but one must behave and believe as a Swiss or Chinese man is expected to. In America you might throw away those old structures and live however you choose. But if you do not replace the old structure with a new one, this freedom will explode in your face like a car battery. “So much guilt,” Frank said, rubbing his palms on his trousers. After a silence, he gave me this: “You can capture life, but you can’t control it.”

The entirety of LeDuff's essay for Vanity Fair can be read here.

why i'm pessimistic about the pittsburgh steelers

2008-08-06T15:44:00.004-04:00

I'm breaking my own rule by thinking and talking about football before Labor Day, but an item about the Steelers' negotiations with free-agents-to-be in today's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette caught my eye and deserves comment. Here's the money quote from Ed Bouchette's story:

If the team has issues with its offensive line now, next season could be disastrous because [Marvel] Smith and new left guard Chris Kemoeatu will become unrestricted free agents if they remain unsigned. So, too, will Max Starks and Trai Essex, their top two backup tackles. Starting right tackle Willie Colon will become a restricted free agent. It's likely that Smith won't return if he's not signed to an extension over the next month.

The Steelers have a month to talk about extending current contracts because their rule is not to renegotiate deals once the season begins. OK, fine. But clearly, there'a a problem here. Remember, the offensive line allowed their franchise quarterback to be sacked 47 times last season, plus six more times in a playoff loss to Jacksonville. That franchise quarterback was then signed to an eight-year, $102 million extension, which is good. But how are they going to protect him? For better or for worse, they let Alan Faneca, arguably the best guard they ever had, leave in free agency -- a move I was OK with, considering how much Faneca wound up getting from the Noo Yawk Jets. But in the draft, the Steelers didn't pick on offensive lineman until the fourth round, leaving them essentially to scramble with what they had, plus the addition of free agent center Justin Hartwig, who battled injuries last year with the Carolina Panthers. And now, they seem to be in no real hurry to keep anyone else, particularly tackle Marvel Smith, who should be fully recovered from the back troubles that plagued him last year. Look, I like that they picked some sure-fire skill guys in the first two rounds in Rashard Mendenhall and Limas Sweed. But considering the Murderers' Row that is their 2008 schedule, and considering the obvious holes they had (and still seem to have) up front, is there any reason to expect that this will be a playoff team? And why, after all the years of attention that was paid to molding a first-rate, smash-mouth O-line, does this team now no longer make the guys up front a priority?

OK, that's enough. Back to summertime, though I will be weighing in on the Steelers' ownership dispute/situation in the coming days. You know you can't wait.

aleksandr solzhenitsyn, r.i.p.

2008-08-05T14:33:00.014-04:00

Any guy who gave the finger to communism and to the old Soviet Union was my kinda guy. And no one, arguably, was more bold about it than Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. He certainly looked the part, with that stern Russian face, that dour countenance, that long beard, but he had also lived it: Solzhenitsyn experienced first-hand the barbaric prison camps, having been sentenced to eight years of hard labor for simply writing to a friend that the megalomanical monster Joseph Stalin was "the man with the mustache." Upon being sent to what The New York Times called in its obit of him "a desolate penal camp in Kazakhstan called Ekibastuz," this is what Solzhenitsyn was up against:

At Ekibastuz, any writing would be seized as contraband. So he devised a method that enabled him to retain even long sections of prose. After seeing Lithuanian Catholic prisoners fashion rosaries out of beads made from chewed bread, he asked them to make a similar chain for him, but with more beads. In his hands, each bead came to represent a passage that he would repeat to himself until he could say it without hesitation. Only then would he move on to the next bead. He later wrote that by the end of his prison term, he had committed to memory 12,000 lines in this way.

Imagine.

His witness, among others, was the harrowing and frightening Gulag Archipelago, a book, at the risk of sounding pretentious, I'm honestly proud to admit I've read. Solzhenitsyn's willingness to tell the truth -- "It is within the power of writers and artists to do much more: to defeat the lie!" he said -- not only exposed the fraud that was the so-called "worker's paradise," but the totalitarian grip to which it subjected millions of people the world over for much of the 20th century. Christopher Hitchens, in his awesome-if-qualified tribute at Slate, writes:

[H]e kept on writing. The Communist Party's goons could have torn it up or confiscated or burned it -- as they did sometimes -- but he continued putting it down on paper and keeping a bottom drawer filled for posterity. This is a kind of fortitude for which we do not have any facile name. The simplest way of phrasing it is to say that Solzhenitsyn lived "as if." Barely deigning to notice the sniggering, pick-nose bullies who followed him and harassed him, he carried on "as if" he were a free citizen, "as if" he had the right to study his own country's history, "as if" there were such a thing as human dignity.

David Remnick, the editor of The New Yorker, called him "the dominant writer of the 20th century" because of "the effect he has had on history." Born the year after the Russian Revolution, Solzhenitsyn outlived the Red Menace by nearly 17 years before dying late Sunday night at the age of 89. R.I.P.

here we go again: the pirates are sellers at the trade deadline

2008-07-31T20:13:00.009-04:00

Once again, the Pirates have unloaded one of their top veteran players in a midseason trade with a contender. This time, they shipped leftfielder Jason Bay, easily the team's best, most visible player this decade, to the Boston Red Sawx. Much of this is not surprising, of course: The Buccos' new management has said from the start that it will try to build from the bottom -- that drafting, scouting and development within its farm system will be paramount to the big club's success. Of course, when you've been hearing that same sort of ~~dribble~~ drivel for as long as Pirates fans have, it has a tendency to go in one ear and out the other. We are, it seems, in Year 16 of an endless 5-Year Plan. But there does seem to be something a bit bolder and forward-thinking about the moves new GM Neal Huntington has made to shore up the shamefully barren system he inherited last fall. The analysis from Where Have You Gone, Andy Van Slyke? is cautiously optimistic, concluding as it does with the following dose of reality: "[T]he reason we've been rebuilding for fifteen years is that nobody's actually managed to do it right. Huntington's still got a long ways to go and a tough job ahead of him, but this trade is exactly what he needs to be doing." We shall see.

That said, I want to go on record with this: If the franchise is unable to sign top pick Pedro Alvarez by the Aug. 15 deadline, I hereby renounce them. They will no longer deserve my attention, or my heart. I'm serious about this. The Pirates have been woefully mismanaged for close to two decades now. As stated above, the new regime wants to develop talent in order to win, and I'm fine with that; they deserve a chance to right all the wrongs that were done before they took over. After years of drafting players they knew they could sign, the Pirates did the right thing and got the one they so obviously needed by picking Alvarez. But if they still can't buck up just to get him to report, then there will truly be no hope. There will truly be no need for them to exist as a Major League team. And there will truly be no reason for me to waste my time and energy caring about what they do. Yes, gentle reader, it's come to this: The Pittsburgh Pirates are on the clock with my heart.

harrisburg is crawling with thieves, charlatans, crooks

2008-07-25T18:14:00.010-04:00

OK, raise your hand if you pay attention to the goings-on in Harrisburg, our state capital. Yeah, thought so -- state politics can often be as interesting as watching metal rust, paint dry, or soccer, all of which are equally tainted with tedium. But stick with me on this, gentle reader, because you need to understand what I'm sayin', and not just because the Capitol Rotunda really is a breathtaking structure. Our General Assembly, that less-than-august body of public servants that really is supposed to serve at our behest, is the second-largest state legislature in the country, and the largest that actually works full-time [pause for laughter]. But while you were off doing something else with your life, our lawmakers have proven time and again that they care not a wit about you, that they can take advantage of the fact that you're not paying attention because, hey, they can get away with it. And they do so in a true spirit of that notorious campaign word "bipartisanship," since Democrats are Republicans are equally crooked. In 2001, just after the dot-com-bubble bust, these bastards, with the blessing of then-Gov. Tom Ridge, wrote themselves a pension increase of 50 percent. But that was nuttin'. By 2005, in the dark of night, they literally stayed up til 2 a.m. [poor things] to write themselves a hefty pay increase. That time, anyway, the pigs were pretty much caught in the trough, and several of them were tossed out in the 2006 elections, when 50 new members were swept into office with promises of -- wait for it -- reform. Now, of course, comes word that 12 current and former state House Democrats have been charged by the state attorney general with paying bonuses to their employees to do campaign work. With taxpayers' dollars. Not only that, but according to John Baer's column in the Philadelphia Daily News the other day, only 18 of our 253 state House and Senate members -- why, again, is our legislature that big? -- have signed a petition calling for Gov. Rendell to hold a special session on ethics. Why? Because nobody's paying attention, that's why. Baer also notes that "56 percent of House members and 75 percent of Senate members seeking re-election face no opposition." Got that? Our legislature is an incumbent-protection racket, too. It gets worse. You know those casinos Gov. Rendell and others who lack the will to cut government spending have touted as a cure-all to pay for stuff without tax increases? Well, guess what: One of the guys in Philly who received a slots license is facing felony counts for perjury, while the guy in Pittsburgh who won his license even though another bidder promised to completely finance a new sports arena for the city is out of fucking money! This is all the fault of the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board, but still: three of those jerks are appointed by the governor, while the other four are picked by the General Assembly. How could they have possibly vetted the backgrounds of these guys without knowing one had lied to them while the other was broke? It stinks on ice. All of it. I say throw the bums out this November. All of 'em.

esquire on 'how to drink alone'

2008-07-21T16:56:00.004-04:00

A nice, tidy guide from Esquire magazine on how best to savor the subtle pleasures of sipping in solitude. I'm not so sure the time of day matters so much, nor do I think liquor is necessarily essential to the experience, as beer can certainly suffice. There is, however, much to be said for good lighting, so as to allow for good reading. And it never hurts to begin your barstool beguine by quietly uttering a toast to yourself, preferably something along the lines of, "Here's to absent friends. Fuck 'em."

a shallow thought

2008-07-09T19:20:00.005-04:00

So I was driving down Street Road in Warminster this afternoon, and I couldn't help but notice two things that were affixed to the back of the Nissan Maxima that was tooling along in front of me: a license plate frame that reads, "Jesus Loves You," and one of those bumper stickers from Geno's Steaks that says, "Joey Vento of Geno's Steaks Says, 'This is America, When Ordering Please Speak English.' " Does that mean Jesus really only loves people who know how to say "Wiz wit"?

finding meaning from pirates 12, yankees 5

2008-06-25T15:19:00.005-04:00

I've clearly been making a big deal out of the Pinstripes' long-awaited return to Pittsburgh, and last night's game provided the reason why. Consider the take of Where Have You Gone, Andy Van Slyke?, which clearly gleaned more from this game than an otherwise routine victory in late June:

Tonight, as the Pirates cruised with a 12-3 lead in the ninth inning and Franquellis Osoria on the mound, mopping up the last three outs, the fans stood on their feet and chanted, "LET'S GO BUCS! LET'S GO BUCS!" And maybe this game was on the North Side of Pittsburgh with an awful reliever on the mound as a bad Pirate team closed out a win over a struggling Yankee team in mid-June, but for one night everyone in the stands might as well have been in Oakland at Forbes Field in October of 1960, watching Roy Face close out a surprising Game 1 win over the vaunted Yankees, and singing, "The Bucs are going all the way!" That's what baseball can do to you sometimes, and that's why sometimes stupid interleague games in June that have no real bearing on the standings can mean the world to a bunch of fans.

I was at the All-Star Game at PNC Park in 2006, and what struck me most was how good it felt to observe people in Pittsburgh taking an interest in baseball again. Indeed, the buzz that filled the ballpark that night was palpable -- a reminder that there's still no sports feeling like a playoff baseball feeling, which is something Pirates fans certainly haven't felt for a loooong time. True, a lot of folks were at PNC last night to see the Yankees, but it was still a sellout crowd on a Tuesday night when there were no giveaways or gimmicks to attract people who simply had nothing better to do. And as Dejan's story in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette notes, this wasn't a crowd mainly made up of Yankees fans. It also wasn't a crowd that had some half-assed interest in what transpired on the field: They stayed til the end, and they were chanting for the Buccos right up until the last out. Baseball in Pittsburgh has been on life support for a long time, and while the current Pirates still have a long way to go, we are seeing signs of life, even if it's little more than just enough life to hold our interest until the Steelers get to St. Vincent. And last night, we can hope, was a great start.

(more) revisiting the 1960 world series

2008-06-24T17:10:00.006-04:00

GREAT story and photos in today's New York Times about the Pirates' improbable World Series win over the Yanks, what with the teams meeting tonight in Pittsburgh for the first time since William Stanley Mazeroski ended the whole shebang with that home run at 3:36 p.m. on Oct. 13, 1960. Even for those who don't like sports, or who have little interest in them, this is the sort of story that clearly explains why sports are so cool. There's too much about that remarkable series in the article, so there's no point re-hashing it, but the money quote is right at the end, when the writer, Sean D. Hamill, interviews a young man who recently occasioned to visit the still-standing piece of the home run wall Maz's shot cleared on that glorious afternoon at old Forbes Field 48 years ago:

Recently, J. W. Eddy, 25, a Pirates fan from Uniontown, Pa., visited the remnants of that wall while taking a break from studying for the bar exam at the nearby University of Pittsburgh Law School. Why come to this old piece of brick wall to remember an event that occurred 23 years before he was even born? "It’s kind of sacred here, really," Eddy said. "To any true Pirate fan, it’s like folklore. You just come to touch some of that history."

Amen.

Maz is slated to throw out the first pitch tonight, which should be great. And, just to add to the cool, The Times has even re-printed George Silk's famous Life magazine photograph of cheering fans taking in the moment from atop the Cathedral of Learning, the University of Pittsburgh's towering campus landmark. Pretty neat.

yankees-pirates, 48 years later

2008-06-23T12:50:00.007-04:00

When the New York Yankees last played in Pittsburgh, Bill Mazeroski did what he did and "made Mickey Mantle cry," as the young Colagero Anello tells Sonny LoSpecchio in A Bronx Tale, a movie moment that still makes everyone from Western Pennsylvania quietly pump their fists every time they see it, if not also causing them to point toward the screen and shout "HA HA!" to the annoyance of anyone else also present. All these years later, with the Bronx Bombers coming back for a sold-out interleague series at PNC Park starting Tuesday night, all the usual opportunities to wax nostalgic are out there. For starters, Gene Collier has a column in today's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that points to the obvious economic disparities between the teams, though he fails to mention that if the Pirates were better run, they'd have been much more competitive in recent years. Books-wise, I'd recommend Jim Reisler's Best Game Ever, which totally stole my own idea for a book topic but really is a terrific read. And heck, for old-time's sake, let's take this opportunity to gaze at that famous photo of Maz as he approaches home plate in what will always be Pittsburgh's greatest sports moment:

BEAT 'EM BUCS!

george carlin, r.i.p.

2008-06-23T12:33:00.003-04:00

Always was a fan of his act, but especially the one in which he articulated the differences between baseball and football. RIP.

what would crash think?

2008-06-20T16:11:00.012-04:00

"Well, I believe in the soul ... the cock ... the pussy ... the small of a woman's back ... the hangin' curveball ... high fiber ... good scotch ... that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap ... I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a Constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve, and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. Goodnight." ~ Crash Davis, Bull Durham

Bill Conlin's column, in today's Philadelphia Daily News, brought to mind Crash Davis, played by Kevin Costner, and his unforgettable speech to Annie Savoy, played by Susan Sarandon, in one of the great baseball movies of all time. Conlin, after all these years, and after a long-winded history lesson he no doubt thinks impresses us at the start of his piece, has reached a different conclusion: He believes the time has come for the National League to adopt the designated hitter, if only because American League teams better take advantage of having that extra bat in the lineup. (No word on Conlin's take on the works of Susan Sontag, or the cock ... the pussy, etc.) There's something to be said for Conlin's position, given many of the points he makes, but I wonder if he would have bothered bringing it up at all had Yankees pitcher Chien-Ming Wang not injured himself circling the bases the other day in Houston. What Conlin also ignores is how much strategy is removed from the game when pitchers are forced to bat, to say nothing of the fact that the DH can also be viewed as a gimmick to prolong the careers of aging sluggers incapable of fielding a position. It's also a boon for for the players' union, which benefits greatly from the additional roster spots afforded to all those extra hitters. It may be the way of the future, at least given how the game is now being played in the AL, but there's just something unnatural about it. Part of being a baseball player is having to do everything there is as a baseball player: hitting, fielding, baserunning. That for the last 35 years half of the major leagues has played the game one way, while the other half has played it the other, is the only real scandal here. Crash, where have you gone, buddy?

some bull about bohemia

2008-06-18T16:43:00.020-04:00

Get this: Philebrity is channeling Christopher Hitchens -- a life of kings favorite whose Slate columns we've linked to since Day One -- by wondering where the real Philly Bohemia is. Anyone else sense a whiff of hypocrisy in this? Anyone? Anyone? Philebrity -- in case the name didn't give it away -- is a blog site dedicated to listing "cool parties" and "shows" at which everyone flaunts how different they are by looking remarkably similar to everyone else, that makes fun of tourists in "Mom Jeans," that sneers at any kind of music you might have heard of, and that (occasionally) passes off pedestrian, knee-jerk political insight as "progressive." [Interesting that Philebrity describes it has a "man-crush" on Hitchens, considering he's arguably the most vocal supporter of the invasion of Iraq and its subsequent occupation out there. But whatever.] Yes, I know what you're thinking: Why do you read that site, then? Curiosity, for one, gentle reader: It's informative about certain items of interest, and it's written in a snarky, smart-ass sort of way I often find appealing. Besides -- and let's face it -- hipster girls are hot. But to think Joey Sweeney and his Band of Badasses even thought to invoke Jack Kerouac in this little dispatch, complete with a famous photo of Jack from a Beat poetry reading in the 1950s? I mean, come on. Look, I'm second to no one in my admiration for Kerouac, but there's no doubting the so-called Beat Mystique has taken on a life of its own in the last 50 years, to the extent that its cool-outsider aura has been transformed into just another clique of misguided slackers living off the bounty provided by the great material wealth of this country, if not also their parents, many of whom were more likely to have worked for (gasp!) a multinational corporation than some co-op that recycles its receipts for the good of Gaia. I mean, without Daddy's trust fund allowance, how else can Joe and Jane Cool afford that phat loft in NoLibs while spending days that end in "y" thinkingthinkingthinking about the next turgid short story they're going to write while shopping at H&M and running up a ginormous credit-card tab at Standard Tap? The funniest part is, many of them know nothing of Jack Kerouac other than that he wrote On the Road or Dharma Bums, which, you know, many of them never quite got around to finishing, either, and how's that for stereotyping, anyway? Heck, no less than The Village Voice has weighed in on what has become Kerouac, Inc., based on the sorry way some have actually attempted to cash in on his legacy. But so what? If I'm following the logic here, we want to gentrify bad neighborhoods until somebody else does, too, at which point it's just not Bohemian enough anymore. Bottom line: Capitalism isn't perfect, but it is a good thing. To paraphrase what Winston Churchill had to say about democracy, it's the worst economic system there is, except for all the others. Are there excesses? Sure. Is there crassness, consumerism and lots of crap being bought and sold out there? Yup. But it's also the reason Web sites like Philebrity can thrive and exist, and that kids with otherwise nothing better to do can debate where they can confine themselves to talk about continuing to do nothing. That's not to say there's no place for art, or for places where good art can be created and cultivated by good artists. Just that those doing the creating should shut up, do it and please spare us their holier-than-thou pontificating about everyone else who doesn't quite measure up to such rigid standards of non-conformist conformity. We don't much like you, either.

no joke: watch the real world tonight

2008-06-11T12:48:00.007-04:00

Keep your eyes peeled for winged pigs: the life of kings is asking people to watch television tonight. Not just any television, mind you, but MTV. And if that weren't ridiculous enough, to be even more specific I want you to watch that silly reality show called The Real World, which comes on at 10 p.m. EDT. No, gentle reader, I haven't lost my mind, though I do realize this request goes against just about everything I hold near and dear. Rather, I'm doing this for a group of friends in a local band called Pawnshop Roses, whose ballad "All the Way Down" will play tonight during the show, perhaps even as one of the program's brainless drunk chicks loses one of her heels while staggering home not long after some douchebag made her cry because he walked off with some other broad he picked up at some meathead bar right after he tried to drink a shot of Jaegermeister off her midrift. Or something. Seriously, the boys from PSR are a good group of dudes who play good rock 'n roll. Guitarist Kevin Bentley told me Sunday he had always dreamed one of his songs would be on MTV. Tonight, it will be. Check it out.

dwight white, r.i.p.

2008-06-06T20:07:00.004-04:00

Sad but true: Dwight White is dead. Condolences are obviously in order, and the details of the complications from his surgery will certainly shake out in the days ahead, but man, oh, man. Dwight White. Mean Joe and LC got a lotta love, but Dwight White was the man. Fats Holmes also died in January, which means half of the famed Steel Curtain is now gone. Hard to believe, considering neither Holmes nor White lived to reach the age of 60. RIP.

a penguins post-mortem

2008-06-06T19:16:00.002-04:00

Well, we learned this much: The Detroit Red Wings really are the best team in the National Hockey League. Their dominance of the Pens for so much of the Stanley Cup finals was so evident -- Detroit's speed and its ability to play defense was such that often it seemed the team had six skaters on the ice -- it's a wonder the damn thing actually went six games. But we also learned this: The Pens played with tenacity and grit, enough to literally steal that memorable Game 5, which they certainly should have lost. And today, we learned that something really was wrong with Evgeni Malkin, whose play was mysteriously poor throughout the series. Bottom line: The Pens are young -- Sid Crosby is 20, Malkin 21 and Marc-Andre Fleury just 23 -- and many of the game's all-time greats had to lose before they won. They will be back.

pensblog has some fun with sykora's called shot

2008-06-03T23:55:00.004-04:00

This is just too fantastic for words, courtesy of the pensblog:

the epic that was game 5 of the stanley cup finals

2008-06-03T18:19:00.023-04:00

As the one and only Mike Lange might say, if you missed it, shame on you for six weeks. But if you saw it, if you sat through all or most of that five-hour sporting epic that took place last night in Detroit, you're surely not going to forget it anytime soon, if ever. Hockey is one of those games with what might kindly be described as a niche following -- though still sometimes mentioned as one of the U.S.'s four major professional sports, its national television ratings often rank somewhere between poker and re-runs of Murder, She Wrote. With the constant white screen and the difficulty that goes with following that little black puck, hockey can be a tough game to watch on TV. But then, alone in your living room, you sat through something like last night, something like the three periods and the three overtimes that added up to Penguins 4, Red Wings 3, and you wondered: What's not to get? Granted, not all games are like this. They don't all involve a team staring at elimination and staking a quick 2-0 lead before suddenly falling behind 3-2, the creeping inevitably, the home crowd on its feet, the Stanley Cup being polished and ready to move for the pending coronation until ... the game gets tied with 35 seconds left, the Pens' Maxime Talbot improbably poking the puck into the corner of the net, causing folks from one city to jump and scream while those from the other just screamed. And then the overtimes -- not one, not two, but three of them, all filled with constant sways of action, with big shots and even bigger saves -- all hail Pens keeper Marc-Andre Fleury -- with a back-and-forth melodrama that left you bug-eyed and delirious, a dizzying display that caused you to wear a path in your living room carpet by the time it was all over, at 12:46 a.m., when Petr Sykora of the Pens finally found the net with a goal he had literally guaranteed to a television reporter sometime in the second OT. And that's when your phone started ringing, when friends began texting with congratulatory messages and your parents suddenly called from Pittsburgh just to ask if you saw it, knowing full well you did because they simply needed to share their excitement with you. All it means, in the long run, is that there will be a Game 6 Wednesday night Up-tahn at The Igloo, that the Red Wings still have a 3-2 edge, that the Pens must win two more without losing to win it all. But so what? It'll always be something to savor, something to remember, something that's just a simple reminder of why you really love sports so much in the first place.

brian howard is a better person than you are. just ask him.

2008-06-02T11:52:00.017-04:00

The funny thing about Philly's alternative weekly newspapers is the utter unseriousness of their political commentary, most especially when they deign to be serious. It's all so reliably predictable -- one frequently need only take one look at a headline or byline to instantly know what one is about to read. Honestly, the alt-weeklies' politics makes for a cutesy, run-along-now diversion when measured next to the papers' otherwise sound (if somewhat occasionally overwritten) arts and music commentary.

That said, Brian Howard's editor's letter in this week's Philadelphia City Paper really does set a new standard for narcissism, vanity, and self-righteous sanctimoniousness masquerading as true political insight. It reads like a childish book report, and its tone represents everything I find distasteful about contemporary liberalism, even in this era of Bush administration excesses and disappointments. [Disclosure: I know Brian Howard. I went to college with him.]

Brian Howard hates war, you see. Passionately. So much so that he was "on the verge of shedding angry tears" at the dawn of the conflict in Iraq. It's such an admirable stand, really. So admirable I can't wait for him to weigh in on his opposition to kicking puppies, murdering your neighbor, and forgetting to call your mother on Mother's Day. But it goes deeper than that, gentle reader. See, Brian Howard once spent a few "intense months" in Cairo, where he interacted with "Muslims from a number of Middle Eastern countries." And guess what? He became friendly with -- wait for it -- "people with beliefs much different from my own but with concerns not so dissimilar." No! Really! It can't be! I was reminded of all those kids in Leningrad and Kiev during the 1980s, the ones you sometimes read about who wore blue jeans and listened to the Beatles and Tears for Fears at the clubs while openly wondering why Reagan and Gorbachev couldn't just shake hands and get on with that whole peace thingy because, you know, we're really not that different deep down, man, and peace in our time would only happen if people just sort of, you know, let it happen and stuff. Except, of course, for the inconvenient fact that the Soviet leadership had begun that decade by invading Afghanistan, much like it had been swallowing up the eastern bloc, Central America and even southeast Asia since the end of World War II (God, I miss the Cold War). Fast forward to today, where the Iranians are about to go nuclear at a time when their president consistently makes idle boasts about wiping one of his neighbors off the map, to say nothing of entire cultures who are rapidly reproducing while simultaneously raising many of their children to strap bombs to their waists before sending them into pizza parlors and nightclubs to blow up grandmothers and teenagers. Look, one can argue reasonably about whether Iraq was the proper front for the current conflict, but the sad fact of life is that war is a perpetual part of the human condition. The only way 9/11 really "changed everything" was by reminding us once again of this unfortunate reality. But Brian Howard is conspicuously silent about all that and what to possibly do about it, since it would requite actually thinking and understanding something that doesn't directly concern him.

Now, I will give the City Paper credit for this: Doron Taussig's lengthy cover story interview with Bassam Sebti, an Iraqi who has come to the U.S. to study writing while leaving his family behind, is fascinating, thorough and nuanced. Many readers, in fact, will no doubt miss this little nugget toward the end of the piece: "...Bassam does not believe America should pull its troops immediately out of Iraq. He doesn't even believe that the invasion necessarily had to be a bad thing for Iraqis. He does believe that Americans and Iraqis will need to work together to build a better Iraq, and if that's going to happen, Americans will need to pressure their leaders to make better decisions, and offer more than blithe assurances that things are getting better." In other words, despite having endured more direct misery than any of us will ever know, Bassam Sebti is still thinking about the long-term stakes. He's remarkably aware of what lies beyond the here and now. His part of the world, perhaps more so than ours, needs more people like him.

But Brian Howard, in trying to draw on the human toll of the Iraq War as if he were the first to think of such a thing, only insults Sebti's (and his readers') intelligence when he writes: "It's important to see this war, when we do bother to see it, to look beyond explosions and try to imagine the hell living through this war for the last five years has been for families, civilians in Iraq. Reading Bassam's story brought a lot of that back for me." Good to know, pal. Good to know.

That's not even the worst of it, though. See, Brian Howard wonders, just after Memorial Day, how many of us even realize we're in a war. He then proceeds to point out that he spent Memorial Day weekend vacationing in Maine with his girlfriend's family, a jaunt that included a swing by the Bush family compound in Kennebunkport, which his girlfriend's father "saluted" as he drove past. Got that, gentle reader? Brian Howard is thinking about the war. Brian Howard hates the war. Brian Howard hates George W. Bush. And Brian Howard hates you for not thinking about all this as much as he does, even as he's happily sticking his feet in the sand, smug with his own sense of moral superiority.

some jokes just tell themselves

2008-05-29T12:30:00.010-04:00

Click on this photo for a closer look....

Yes, this gentleman really does have a Flyers sticker and a Confederate flag sticker on his car. He no doubt has no idea the joke's on him, but that's the point. the life of kings rests its case, your honor.

apologies for the lack of posts

2008-05-29T12:28:00.002-04:00

the life of kings has been tending to some personal and professional matters in recent days, so please excuse the dearth of material on the site. We just know you've been waiting with baited breath.

and so the penguins eliminate the flyers...

2008-05-19T13:16:00.014-04:00

I'm going to be careful in how I write this, if only because a number of my friends are good, knowledgeable and respectful Philly fans with a clue. But to be honest, this series exposed a few simple truths about Philadelphia and many of its sports fans:

1. Much of the talk about how good and knowledgeable Philadelphia fans are is a bald-faced lie. Fact is, folks in this town are probably the most provincial in the country -- completely and utterly clueless about the reality beyond Broad and Pattison. Before the series began, a lot of commentary had focused on the falsehood that the Penguins had "tanked" their final regular season game against the Flyers so as to avoid playing them in the first round. The thinking was, the Pens were afraid of a physical team like the Flyers, as if this were 1975 and Bob Clarke was going to be punching someone in the face and frightening him into playing poorly from the moment the puck dropped. What it ignored was that the Pens wanted to rest Sidney Crosby for what was essentially a meaningless game because he was still feeling the effects of his high ankle sprain. Anyway, now, after a series in which the Pens won four games against just one for the Flyers, after the 6-0 whitewash that that took place in Sunday's series-clinching game at The Igloo, how does that analysis hold up?

2. Another misconception that made the rounds these last two weeks is that Pens fans are johnny-come-latelys to the sport of hockey. Even Rich Hofmann's column in today's Philadelphia Daily News has generated some comments from folks who continue to argue a) the Pens are in this place because they were so bad for so long, thereby allowing them to draft good players (which is true), and b) unlike in Philly, where everyone is supposedly loyal, no one cared about hockey in Pittsburgh until now. Now, while the life of kings pleads guilty to being on the bandwagon (and shamelessly so), many others in Pittsburgh have indeed been loyal since at least the mid-to-late 1980s, when the team began its first real run of success. But the Pens eventually got to be so bad again because their ownership group had literally run them into the ground. A perceived lack of fan support, as a simple read of Mario Lemieux's Wikipedia page makes clear, had nothing to do with why the team nearly folded or left town before Lemieux rescued it. Besides, as we've already demonstrated, Philly has also failed the loyalty test in recent years. But few in this town will tell you that, and fewer still will want to accept it.

3. If it wasn't already known, this series made it demonstrably clear: Philadelphia fans are the most boorish and obnoxious anywhere. It's funny to me that some will point to incidents in other cities as evidence that it's not just a Philly thing. But in Game 4, both times the Penguins scored goals and began to celebrate in the corner, several Flyers fans stood against the glass above the boards and raised their middle fingers -- some even reaching above the heads of children to do so. Real classy. After all, as we all know, a true tough guy does such a thing from the safety of his front-row seat. Losers.

4. Passion and knowledge are not to be confused with loutish behavior. But a lot of people in Philly will never understand this.

5. The back page of today's Philadelphia Daily News. Just 'cause:

10 years on: frank sinatra and the american male

2008-05-14T19:24:00.014-04:00

Hard as it might be to believe, but Frank Sinatra died 10 years ago today. To many of us youngins, Sinatra is remembered as nothing more than a caricature, a wrinkled old Vegas lounge act who took the cheesy Rat Pack schtick too far but still sang some pretty songs that always made for nice background music or for a swell moment or two at your college buddy's wedding. But if you're the life of kings, you were in college and you were dying to know more after you saw Bono introduce him by saying this at the 1994 Grammy Awards:

Who's this guy that every city in America wants to claim as their own? This painter who lives in the desert, this first-rate, first-take actor. This singer who makes other men poets, boxing clever with every word, talking like America -- tough, straight-up, in headlines. Comin' through with the big stick, the aside, the quiet compliment, good cop, bad cop, all in the same breath. You know his story 'cause it's your story. Frank walks like America -- cock-sure. ... Frank Sinatra. His voice as tight as a fist opening at the end of a bar. Not on the beat, over it, playing with it, splitting it, like a jazz man, like Miles Davis. Turning on the right phrase and the right song -- which is where he lives, where he lets go, where he reveals himself. His songs are his home and he lets you in. But you know that to sing like that you've gotta have lost a couple of fights. To know tenderness and romance you've gotta have had your heart broken...

You soon learned about a man who really was bigger than life because, unlike so many other entertainers, including any number of rock 'n roll poseurs, The Sinatra Way really was a way of authenticity, a non-conformity rooted not in any juvenile desire to be "different" for its own sake, but rather to be exactly what he was, no matter the time or place. When he died, the world seemed to stop: Television and newspaper coverage was incessant, with The Philadelphia Inquirer and The Philadelphia Daily News, like many papers throughout the country, publishing enormous keepsake special sections in the days that followed. Philly's WWDB-FM, which used to be a talk station but which also was the flagship for Sid Mark's long-running programs "Fridays with Frank" and "Sundays with Sinatra," cancelled its programming for the entire weekend, instead giving Sid carte blanche to tell old stories and play the old records, with a few updates straight from the family estate in Palm Springs.

All these years later, in trying to recall why, I found myself drawn to the obituary the incomparable Mark Steyn wrote for the London Sunday Telegraph, which Steyn has re-posted on his Web site this week:

If only 20 per cent of the gossip is true, it was an amazing life: Frank delivering two million bucks in an attaché case for mob boss Lucky Luciano; the horse’s head left in an uncooperative producer’s bed; Nancy and Ava and Lana and Marilyn and Lauren and Mia in his bed, being very cooperative, sometimes (Ava and Lana) simultaneously; even towards the end, when ex-wife Mia Farrow told him of her troubles with Woody Allen, Frank sportingly offered to break Woody’s legs. But what’s even more amazing than the life is that the records live up to it, and then some. The swagger and attitude, the chicks and mobsters are the incidental accompaniment; the real drama is in the songs.

Pete Hamill, the legendary New York writer, said at the time that Sinatra's death marked the true end of the 20th century, if only because he figured in it so prominently. Not long after that, Hamill was moved enough to write a book entitled Why Sinatra Matters, which includes the following in its introduction:

He was funny. He was vulnerable. I never saw the snarling bully of the legend. That Frank Sinatra certainly existed; on the day that his death made all those front pages, there were too many people who remembered only his cruelties. But he never showed that side of himself when I was around. On those nights, I was in the company of an intelligent man, a reader of books, a lover of painting and classical music and sports, gallant with women, graceful with men. Perhaps he was just donning a mask in my company, presenting images to a writer so that they would be remembered by the writer in a certain way: a kind of performance. Or perhaps the snarling bully was the true masked character, a clumsy personal invention, and behind the mask there was simply a young man afraid of the world. Or perhaps, by the time I knew him, he had just grown out of his angers, exhausted them, and settled for what he was and the way he was regarded. I don't know. Like all great artists, Frank Sinatra contained secret places, abiding personal mysteries, endless contradictions. On occasion, a curtain would part, there would be a moment of epiphany, and I could see the uncertain older man who wanted to understand what it all meant, the man who said that dying was a pain in the ass. I liked that man very much.

He was a terrific actor, as any number of his films makes plain. But for my money, I like the early scene in Young at Heart, when we first see him standing in Doris Day's doorway, skinny-shouldered and sad-eyed, his hat brim back just so, the camera locked on him for several seconds. It's our introduction to Barney Sloan, a self-described "stumblebum" nightclub singer who was good for a snarky comment or two, but little else. Seeing it all those years after its 1954 release, I couldn't help but feel there was a lot of the real Frank Sinatra in that character, a wiseass dago kid from Hoboken who just happened to make the big time because he had as much balls as he did talent.

But the music, as Steyn has written elsewhere, is "the only reason we’re remotely interested in what broads he’s nailing." His days as a spaghetti-thin crooner who wowed the bobbysoxers while their GI boyfriends and husbands were overseas saving the world from Hitler and Hirohito soon gave way to a voice that gave out on him just as Ava Gardner broke his heart. But he came back, first with his Academy-Award-winning role as Pvt. Angelo Maggio in From Here to Eternity, and then, throughout the 1950s, with a series of recordings that are among the greatest in the popular American songbook. "Like the smoke rings, the loosened collars and pushed-back hat brims of the album covers," Steyn wrote in another context, "it's mere confirmation of what the records tell us already -- that, whether the heady intoxication of Songs for Swingin' Lovers or the bleak resignation of In The Wee Small Hours, these things have happened to him." From then on, he was bigger than big, all the way to the end. In Steyn's obit, he points to Sinatra's ability to phrase a lyric, and while it's true he wrote none of his own songs, he certainly knew how to sing them. I'm especially partial to the sad ones, if only in appreciation of the raw emotion laid bare, as in "It Never Entered My Mind," when he sings the line about having to "order orange juice for one" by placing just the right emphasis on the words "for one" so as to wring every ounce of feeling from them. And just the other day, I again happened upon the rare gem "Everything Happens to Me," which was written by a couple of guys named Tom Adair and Matt Dennis. It concludes with a heartbreaking verse that again would take on a whole different vibe when uttered by some lesser mortal:

Telegraphed and phoned
I sent an air-mail special, too
Your answer was goodbye
And there was even postage due

The best of the books -- aside from Hamill's -- is Bill Zehme's The Way You Wear Your Hat: Frank Sinatra and The Lost Art of Livin', published just before Sinatra's death. In it, Zehme expands on a 1996 essay he had written for Esquire: "Men had gone soft and needed help, needed a Leader, needed Frank Sinatra. I wanted to ask him the essential questions, the kind that could save a guy's life. I wanted what might approximate Frank's rules of order." What resulted was an all-encompassing "exploration of the Sinatra mystique" that covers "[m]atters of heart and heartbreak, coolness and swank, friendship and leadership, drinking and cavorting, brawling and wooing, tuxedos and snap-brims..." Of all the wonderful anecdotes, by far the best is the letter-to-the-editor Sinatra wrote to The Los Angeles Times in 1990 after he heard pop star George Michael had been complaining about being a "reluctant" star:

And no more talk about the "tragedy of fame." The tragedy of fame is when no one shows up and you're singing to the cleaning lady in some empty joint that hasn't seen a paying customer since St. Swithin's Day. And you're nowhere near that; you're the top dog on the top rung of a tall ladder called Stardom, which in Latin means thanks-to-the-fans who were there when it was lonely. Talent must not be wasted. Those who have talent -- and you obviously do or Calendar's cover article would have been about Rudy Vallee -- those who have talent must hug it, embrace it, nurture it, and share it, lest it be taken away from you as fast as it was loaned to you. Trust me. I've been there.

memo to anthony gargano: shut up. just shut up.

2008-05-12T17:39:00.010-04:00

Heard from a friend back in Philly that 610 WIP-AM radio host Anthony Gargano had ambushed a newspaper columnist from Pittsburgh on the air today, accusing the city of being a johnny-come-lately in terms of its passion for hockey. He also mocked the guy for daring to pick the Penguins to sweep the Flyers -- despite the inconvenient fact that, last we checked, the Pens were already halfway there. And for his coup de grace, Gargano proceeded to taunt the guy for wearing "Penguins panties" or something or other. OK, tough guy, OK. Your station has also often pointed out that the Pirates failed to sell out a few playoff games back in the early 1990s -- an inexcusable act for the fans in Pittsburgh, even if the unsold seats were way up in the outfield upper deck at Three Rivers Stadium, about 10 miles from the field. Very well. But lookie here, cuz: the life of kings has discovered that, as recently as 2000, the Eagles -- the so-called pulse and passionate lifeblood of Philadelphia sports -- needed the Fox Network to buy up approximately 1,500 available seats to avoid having a playoff game against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers blacked out. Don't believe me? Read it for yourself right here in The New York Times. That's right, ladies and gentlemen: Less than a decade ago, the Philadelphia Eagles needed help to sellout a playoff game. So shut up, Gargano, and enjoy your head start on the next 25 years of rooting for one loser after another while you continue to parade around with your knuckles scraping against the pavement.

even the hipsters in pittsburgh are all pucked up

2008-05-11T22:29:00.011-04:00

Here's how crazy it's getting: the life of kings is in Pittsburgh for Mother's Day, and because we suddenly had some writing to do this evening, we needed a wireless connection like quick (don't ask). So we went to our favorite hipster coffee jawns in Squirrel Hill, the kind of place where the girls are super cute and the music is always something you never heard of, because if you did they wouldn't want YOU to hear it. Anyway, to our surprise when we entered, we found the usual arrangement of Cool Bands You Never Heard Of had actually been replaced by the Penguins Radio Network broadcast of Game 2 of Flyers-Pens, complete with Mike Lange loudly uttering his trademark inanities like "How much chicken can you eat?" and "She wants to sell my monkey!" And when the Pens scored to take a 3-2 lead in the third period, the darling little blonde behind the counter whooped like she had just been told they were giving away bandanas across the street at Eat 'n Park. Or something. The handful of people on laptops or pretending to read Proust all reacted, too, except for this one guy on his laptop who was listening to an i-pod. He suddenly heard the fuss and looked around scornfully before intently returning to whatever the hell it was he was working on. [C'mon, dude. Smile a little and enjoy this. All the cool kids are doing it.] And if that weren't enough, Bob Smizik has written a column in the Post-Gazette that suggests this town's love for the Pens is beginning to rival that of the Steelers. Can it be? I mean, whoa.

phil sheridan makes nice

2008-05-08T20:01:00.006-04:00

With all the smack-talk being flung around our great commonwealth this week (ahem) in anticipation of the big Pens-Flyers series, which begins Friday at The Igloo (in case any of yinz were wondrin' 'n at), Phil Sheridan of the Philadelphia Inquirer has decided to take a kinder, gentler approach. In his column today, Sheridan seeks to find some common ground between the life of kings' hometown and the life of kings' adopted home. Money quote:

We're talking about Pittsburgh, that bridge-happy city on the other side of the state. We're talking about our neighbors. Taking cheap shots at Pittsburgh would be like picking a fight with your favorite cousin. Think Pittsburgh and you think blue-collar, beer-drinking, salt-of-the-earth folk who are working hard to reinvent themselves in the post-industrial era. That makes you want to hang out with them and compare notes, not insult them. ... Pittsburgh fans [are] a lot like us, only more polite.

Cheers to that. And cheers to what promises to be a fun series. They're calling for all the fans at The Igloo to wear white for Game 1, which means the joint will look a lot like this:

Sweet.

fox sports ranks the worst franchises in professional sports...

2008-05-08T15:24:00.003-04:00

...and, to no one's surprise, look who's No. 1. Sigh.

it's on.

2008-05-04T19:48:00.005-04:00

Penguins. Flyers. For the NHL's Eastern Conference championship. Winner advances to the Stanley Cup Finals. Loser gets to hear about it from here to eternity. I expect to have few friends in Philly over the course of the next couple of weeks. And I don't care. The Igloo and the Wacho Center are both gonna shake. Oh, boy, is this gonna be fun.

matt leinart likes to party. why is this an issue?

2008-05-03T18:55:00.014-04:00

"Leinart speaks about party photos"

Saw the headline and had to read the story, which was published today in the Arizona Republic.

OK ... Lemme see ... Matt Leinart, a 24-year-old, good-looking quarterback for a professional football team, was ... OK ... lemme see now ... hang on ... photographed partying with young girls and ... hold up ... just a minute here ... wait, what? ... really? ... he also was pictured holding a ... wait for it ... this is shocking, horrifying stuff .... a beer bong?!?! Oh, the horror! The horror!

Don't believe me? Go here.

It's enough to make one shudder for the future of the republic (no pun intended).

Not because of what Leinart did, of course. Nope. No way. Bear with me, 'cause it's just a hunch, but I'm willing to bet my ability to read that Leinart is not the first multi-million-dollar athlete who likes to party with chicks and get wasted. That he has to answer for this and have his judgment questioned by "older," "wiser" types who no doubt have never had any fun in their lives is mind-numbingly stupid. You'd think, based on the breathless coverage, and on this browbeating delivered by Arizona Republic columnist Dan Bickley, that Leinart had killed someone -- or worse. All because he was doing something every red-blooded American male would otherwise want to do if he were in Leinart's board shorts. Look, I realize we're a long way from Joe Willie Namath, whose Mark-Kriegel-authored biography fantastically contains an entire chapter called "Booze and Broads," and whose exploits in and around New York City in the 1960s will always represent the gold standard of true bachelor cool. "He walked off with Jagger's girls," Kriegel writes. "He spilled drinks on Sinatra." I also realize athletes' actions are under greater scrutiny than ever before, that they constantly run the risk of getting in greater trouble than the rest of us because of their fame and fortune. But still: Why does the flip-side have to be that they're not entitled to any fun at all? Why does the revelation that they are having fun somehow imply that they're shirking their duties, as if they should all be studying their playbooks on Saturday nights and making sure to be at the gym by sunrise the following morning? Why does Matt Leinart have to answer for anything in this instance -- other than a handful of in-depth questions about why I wasn't invited?

the pirates and the andy van slyke question

2008-05-02T15:37:00.017-04:00

Jonah Keri takes a look at baseball's numerous "failure dynasties" today on ESPN.com, and it goes without saying that my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates make the list. Like most national writers, however, Keri is knowledgable about some things and ignorant on others. He's solid on the train-wrecked tenures of former general managers Cam Bonifay and Dave Littlefield, for example. But why does he begin by noting that the Bucs should have held on to Barry Bonds instead of Andy Van Slyke back in 1993? Doesn't he realize that Balco Barry had signed a one-year extension to remain with the team in '92, after which he made it clear he wanted out of town? The team didn't have a choice in the matter, which is what made (and still makes) the night of Oct. 14, 1992 such a gut punch (click the link and scroll down to No. 8 on the list for the gory details). Keri also derides Kevin McClatchy's stewardship as owner, and largely with good reason. But McClatchy deserves some credit for purchasing the franchise in the mid-'90s and working assiduously to keep it in Pittsburgh -- a point worth mentioning, in my mind, even if the time that bought him obviously ran out several years ago.

As for Van Slyke, he's just so damn cool, as this interview with Yahoo.com clearly demonstrates. He tells it like it is about Bonds, especially with regard to that fateful, awful play on Oct. 14, 1992. The bit about his turnstile-jumping episode on the New York City subway -- especially what he told the female cop upon being apprehended -- is just fantastic, and Phillies fans will love what he had to say about all the chew spit Lenny Dykstra used to leave behind on the centerfield turf at Veterans Stadium. It's also cool that one of my favorite blogs, Where Have You Gone, Andy Van Slyke?, even gets a little love in the interview. And as one might expect, WHYGAVS takes it all happily in stride.

the great bissinger-leitch debate

2008-05-01T15:53:00.028-04:00

In case you missed it, Tuesday night's episode of Costas Now on HBO featured a fascinating exchange between noted author Buzz Bissinger and blog maverick Will Leitch. The topic? Something near and dear to the life of kings and all it stands for: The future of journalism, specifically sports journalism, in this here Internet age.

Costas, the host and moderator, is truly an admirable sort: an intelligent, enthusiastic commentator who speaks clearly and with an informed voice. He takes his subject matter seriously and is interested in genuine, open discussion -- though he's not above having a little fun even when having to ask a tough question. Such qualities seemed to make him the perfect guy to officiate this hair-pull, even if it's obvious where his bias lies. Alas, at least this time, he came up small. Bissinger, meanwhile, has written Friday Night Lights, a bestselling book about high school football culture in Texas, and A Prayer For the City, a remarkable account of then-mayor Ed Rendell's efforts at rescuing the city of Philadelphia in the post-Wilson Goode era. And Leitch? He's the founder of Deadspin.com, a blog site devoted to covering sports in a way you won't necessarily find in your local newspaper. He basically represents the young, attitude-driven future of this business. Also appearing was Braylon Edwards, a wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns who was there to offer the perspective of the professional athlete.

Some thoughts:

1. Bissinger, quite frankly, comes across as a crotchety old coot. You'd think a guy with his intelligence and ability would know better than to open a discussion with a guy he thinks is dragging sports journalism into the toilet by saying something other than, "I really think you're full of shit." Unfortunately, Bissinger rarely gets any better from there on out.

2. What gives Leitch, and those like him, the advantage on this topic is that they know their audience. I know a lot of newspaper people who have the attitude that their way is the only way, to hell with however the world might be changing. But as Leitch makes clear, the pony express, the abacus and the horse-drawn buggy once had their place, too.

3. Bissinger scores points with his suggestion that blogging is hurting the quality of writing and contributing to the "dumbing-down" of our collective culture. What he overlooks, however, is how much bad writing and dead wood currently exists at newspapers. And our strange obsession with celebrities and our fascination with the prurient and the trivial certainly didn't begin with the Internet.

4. There is far too much attack-type stuff on the Internet, far too many cheap shots being taken by those with little or no accountability, but there's a clear distinction between reader-generated comments and writer-generated content.

5. Leitch was wrong to suggest (with a straight face) that he was bringing out "the human side" of pro athletes when he publishes photos of them boozing and cavorting with women. (The opening segment includes shots of Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger from Super Bowl week a few years back; Big Ben can be seen pouring drinks into women's mouths while wearing a shirt that says, in a play on Notre Dame's famous motto, "Drink Like a Champion Today." I found it funny then and still think it's funny now. But still.) Athletes are entitled to their privacy, and I do think journalists should respect that. I don't know how many times I've been out drinking in Doylestown only to have a person I'm introduced to freeze upon meeting me, as if I'm going to chronicle their entire evening for the next morning's paper. I didn't, I don't, and I won't.

6. Leitch is also wrong to openly "be a fan." One can be a fan -- Go Pens! -- and no one can be 100 percent objective, but readers deserve an effort at objectivity and honesty. A lot of journalism is credibility, and while personal relationships with players and teams can result, the only way to honestly convey information to the average reader is to honestly try to be as completely objective and detached as possible. Frankly, it's part of the reason I don't work in Pittsburgh.

7. Costas takes a swipe at a musing about Rick Reilly authored by A.J. Daulerio, a Deadspin writer. (Disclosure: Daulerio and I went to college together and once covered the same suburban news beat for competing newspapers. Just a few weeks back, we even indulged our shared taste for beer and tequila by having One of Those Nights in Center City.) Daulerio criticizes Reilly for essentially taking advantage of the access he is granted as a sports writer, suggesting that it's wrong because the average fan doesn't have such access. But A.J., bro, that's the point: The access allows the writer to see up close how an athlete talks, what his mannerisms are, what he thinks and how he's feeling just after the heat of battle. I, for one, have often found these sort of exchanges to be the best way to bring out the drama of a sports story, as with this. That access, however, should not be taken too far, and it's troubling to hear stories of journalists playing golf with subjects they cover, to cite just one ethically-challenged example.

8. The bottom line: The answer lies somewhere between Bissinger's Luddite desire to see newspapers survive "just because" and Leitch's more bare-knuckles approach. The Internet is the future of information, and if Bissinger and others like him don't wish to cede any ground to Leitch and his gang, they at least better start figuring out a way to do it better. And soon.

Check out the entire exchange on Deadspin's site here.

CLARIFICATION: Not long after this post went up this afternoon, I got a phone call from A.J. Daulerio, who wanted to point out that Costas had incorrectly attributed the Reilly-bashing piece to him, when in fact "Big Daddy Balls" is someone else. That Costas would come into this so unprepared is at once striking and revealing. Anyway, A.J.'s own reaction to the whole shebang can be read here. His references to the days when he covered zoning board hearings and the like harken back to a time when we worked together, and it was fun to relive those days when we threw a few back at Locust Bar and the P&P a couple of weeks ago. A.J.'s a good guy and a good reporter and writer with good intentions. Our own talk about this stuff was enlightening and cordial, and it's a shame the Bissinger-Leitch debate wasted so much time and energy bickering like a bad afternoon of programming on WIP.

and they say romance is dead...

2008-04-30T21:45:00.005-04:00

Not so in Ann Arbor, Mich., where a high school boy asked a girl to the prom by getting some friends together to moon her with the question. And she accepted. Kind of brings a tear to the eye, no?

happy 25th anniversary to the great lee elia rant

2008-04-29T20:08:00.007-04:00

Twenty-five years ago today, April 29, 1983, then-Chicago Cubs manager Lee Elia made history when he totally lost it during a press conference after another disappointing early-season loss. Elia directed his wrath at the Chicago fans who came out to day games (Wrigley Field in those days still did not have lights) and at the city's media (of course) for their criticism of his players. This, gentle reader, is truly the stuff of legend. I gotta say, for the last few years at work, we've occasionally queued up Elia's tirade on YouTube just for laughs. (Could you imagine covering something like this in the era before the Internet? How would you write it up?)

Elia's rant is guaranteed to brighten your day, and I'm pleased to share it with you now. No need to thank me. Just sit back and try not to pee yourself.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Elia. And thanks again, you f***in' c********r.

UPDATE: Jay Mariotti has a pretty cool column in the Chicago Sun-Times that asks Chicagoans to forgive Elia.

harvey araton unloads on notre dame

2008-04-29T19:14:00.004-04:00

Wake up the echoes: This one pretty much speaks for itself. I give you the fantastic lede paragraphs from Harvey Araton's column on the arrogance of Notre Dame football in today's New York Times:

For self-importance on the grandest of delusional scales, there is no entity in sports quite like Notre Dame football, winner of three games last season, routinely whacked like a piñata in recent bowl games and not a national championship to its name in 20 years, or since the Gipper was about to hand off the presidency of the United States to George H.W. Bush. How humble of Notre Dame to have visited Ronald Reagan in the Rose Garden at the White House on Jan. 18, 1989, resisting all temptation to call for a meeting at a neutral site more to its grandiose liking.

Ouch. The rest of the piece can be read here.

50 bucks!?! for a stinkin' t-shirt!?! what the %&#@!!

2008-04-27T20:13:00.005-04:00

Now that I've shamelessly declared myself to be the Pittsburgh Penguins' unofficial Pain-in-the-Ass Bandwagon Captain, I figured it was high time to be as thoroughly obnoxious as possible by strutting around Philly in some fancy Penguins gear. Tooling around the Pens' web site, I came across this T-shirt, which I could see myself rocking around town -- until I saw the price tag. Eff that.

penn relays photo journal: this is the end

2008-04-26T19:50:00.004-04:00

The 114th Penn Relays is history. I already can't wait til next year, but let's have one last look...

Now, of course, it's time for this:

a penn relays funny

2008-04-26T14:30:00.005-04:00

So I'm sitting next to an old-timer while typing away and listening to a press conference following the USA vs. the World women's 4 x 100. After one of the women said the team "had good chemistry," the old-timer leaned over to me and said, in a way only old-timers can say, "Chemistry? They shouldn't use that word in track and field. Marion Jones had chemistry." Indeed she did. And we all know what happened to her.

penn relays photo journal: around and about

2008-04-26T14:06:00.008-04:00

The fans -- especially the Jamaicans -- go wild during the USA vs. the World women's sprint medley relay. If you've been to any big sporting event, you've heard noise. But you've never heard noise like this...

So.
Effing.
Cool.

A view of the stands from the paddock area:

When batons get exchanged, as in this heat of the high school boys 4 x 400, it's M-A-D-N-E-S-S:

A view of Woo Corner from the opposite side of the stadium:

Woo Corner, from another angle:

So you're hungry for a Jamaican beef patty? Better get in line...

A view of press row, from the front of press row:

some sports musings

2008-04-26T11:06:00.011-04:00

* They spotted the Broadway Blue Shirts a 3-0 lead. Didn't matter. They came back, took the lead and were suddenly tied again. Then Sooper Sid connected on a one-timer from Ryan Whitney that was actually tipped in by Evgeni Malkin. In front of an insane "white-out" crowd dahn-tahn at The Igloo, 'Guins win.

* Over on the North Side, it was Phillies 6, Pirates 5. Zach Duke really stinks, and the Buccos can't get rid of those awful Friday red jerseys fast enough.

* What in the world has gotten into the 76ers? Where do they get off running a veteran team like Detroit out of the gym like that? Ah, who cares. It's a cool story just 'cause it's even happening.

* The NFL Draft is today! Yawn. What's the best thing about being at The Penn Relays -- aside from, you know, actually being at the Penn Relays? It's a totally draft-free zone. Nice.

penn relays photo journal: some random stuff

2008-04-26T10:21:00.006-04:00

What's cool about track and field is how, when broken down, it's sport at its purest: sprinters, hurdlers and jumpers who possess speed and balanced strength, frail-looking distance runners with remarkable endurance, and throwers who are just big and beefy -- and that's just the women (ba-dum-CHING!). Anyway, here's a bunch of big high school dudes waiting to throw the discus on the fields just below the train tracks. Just 'cause.

So many athletes, so few places to stay loose or to warm up: many run through the city streets, zig-zagging around puzzled pedestrians, while others come here, to Penn's old baseball field beneath the train tracks:

The Jamaicans are coming! The Jamaicans are coming!

penn relays photo journal: day three begins

2008-04-26T09:13:00.020-04:00

Ah, Saturday at the Penn Relays -- what just might be the best day of the year. Today's the day Tyson Gay, Allyson Felix, Pittsburgh's own Lauryn Williams and many other Olympic-caliber runners will compete, and the joint will be packed and amped up like crazy. The skies are gray, which means it might rain, but The Show Must Go On, rain or shine. To kick things off, here's a photo (taken from the end of the Walnut Street Bridge) of the Palestra, located just next to Franklin Field. The Palestra, to me, is one of the most sacred structures in the city -- a simple gymnasium that doubles as a veritable museum of Philly college hoops. In other words, a House of Awesome.

Much to watch. More to come...

penn relays photo journal: it ain't always pretty

2008-04-25T16:43:00.002-04:00

Plenty of athletes here give it their all. Some literally so, like this poor guy who had just come off the track following the college men's distance medley relay:

penn relays photo journal: protests?

2008-04-25T15:41:00.004-04:00

It wouldn't be an event on an Ivy League campus without a good old-fashioned protest, right? This was taken this afternoon on 33rd Street, just across the street from Franklin Field:

Upon closer inspection, however, it was discovered these student-agitators were in fact raising money to fight malaria. Oops. My bad. Though I still reserve the right to make fun of them for making signs that were impossible to read from more than two feet away.

penn relays photo journal: moving around the stadium

2008-04-25T13:47:00.003-04:00

A view from the famous Woo Corner, right at the final turn before the homestretch:

From the life of kings' seat on press row, a view of Michigan crossing the finish line just in front of Tennessee to defend its title in the college women's Championship of America 4 x 1,500:

More to come...

we interrupt the penn relays for a little baseball...

2008-04-25T09:58:00.007-04:00

You know, just 'cause. After all, the Phillies are on Pittsburgh's North Side for a weekend series against the pitiful Pirates. Shamefully, thanks to baseball's unbalanced schedule and the ridiculous fact that they're not in the same division, this is the only time the Phils and Bucs -- baseball's greatest rivalry in the late '70s and early '80s; like, seriously -- will play in Pittsburgh this season. It's Adam Eaton vs. Zach Duke tonight, Kyle Kendrick vs. Matt Morris (let us pray) tomorrow night, and Brett Myers vs. Ian Snell in Sunday's matinee finale. The real matchup to watch, of course, will be whether either team's first baseman will actually get a stinkin' hit: Ryan Howard, he of the brand-new, $10 million annual contract, is hitting a cool .111 for your Phightin' Phils, while the Buccos' Adam LaRoche sports a sorry-ass .149 average that looks downright dominant by comparison. Sigh.

penn relays photo journal: day two begins

2008-04-25T09:18:00.005-04:00

At 9:04 a.m., hundreds of athletes wait outside the Palestra to check in:

And if you care to read the appreciation of the Penn Relays I wrote for today's editions of The Bucks County Courier Times and The Intelligencer of Doylestown, click here.

Or don't.

More to come...

penn relays photo journal: just a thought

2008-04-24T17:06:00.005-04:00

Of all the cool things to see and hear here, among the best is when the public address announcer reads off a list of college teams competing in the same heat. The late Jack O'Reilly, a thin little old man with a booming baritone, totally blew me away the first time I heard him do it a few years back. (The New York Times once described O'Reilly's voice as having "crisp, rich tones [that] evoke images of royalty.") Today, Burton T. Richie, who now handles the duties for most of the big college races, read off the list of the first group of college women's 4 x 100s, and it just sounded cool:

Georgia Tech, Georgetown, Florida Atlantic, Penn, Cornell, Harvard, LSU, UConn, Coastal Carolina...

Only at the Penn Relays.

penn relays photo journal: back on the infield

2008-04-24T14:21:00.003-04:00

The scoreboard is pretty cool:

4x400s, as seen from just next to the long jump pit:

More to come...

penn relays photo journal: some views outside the stadium

2008-04-24T13:05:00.007-04:00

They contest the javelin outside the stadium here, on a field just below the South Street Bridge. Dig how all of the officials wear red hats, white button-downs, striped ties and yellow khakis. When it's colder out, they even sport blue blazers. Like olden times -- classy and important-looking. And way cool.

The walk back from the javelin pit takes you right along the Schuylkill Expressway and provides a gorgeous view of the Center City skyline. A better photographer might have snapped this without the backs of those signposts being in the way. But I'm not a better photographer.

Just outside the stadium, it's a carnival of people and humming activity. All day long.

More to come...

penn relays photo journal: and so it begins

2008-04-24T11:16:00.018-04:00

The 114th running of the Penn Relays began today at ol' Franklin Field in West Philly, and the life of kings was there to take in the awesome. Rather than try (with futility) to put this town's greatest annual sports spectacle into words, I've instead decided to pass along exclusive cell phone photos, at least as often as time permits (riveting, I know). According to an organizer, there are approximately 4,000 relay teams, 2,500 individual competitors, 900 high schools and 240 colleges registered to compete this year. And come Saturday, when 50,000 people will pack this place, the Olympic-caliber athletes will blaze across the track as folks in the stands -- including thousands of raucous Jamaicans -- wave flags, chant and scream as if they were at a rock concert. The Penn Relays has everything: history, tradition, great crowds and a wonderful setting. You really have to see it to believe it, even if you care not a wit about track and field.

The day is just beginning. The weather is perfect. To be here on a morning like this makes you feel like God is in a good mood.

The madcap paddock area, where the runners are literally herded before they take the track. The races begin early and go all day, with clockwork precision. Somehow, they find a way to keep it all organized.

More to come...

that's a $300 fine for the rest of us, plus costs...

2008-04-23T18:56:00.002-04:00

But not for the Philadelphia Parking Authority, it seems. Boy, do I hate the PPA.

a (sort of) campaign report

2008-04-22T13:31:00.004-04:00

I just voted -- which makes me a wonderful citizen, but you already knew that -- and it was interesting to note that my little polling place was experiencing unusally strong turnout. The clerks told me 250 or so voters had already passed through, which is very high for this early in a primary day. At my polling station, they hand you a ticket that identifies you as a Republican or a Democrat so the clerk handling the machines will know which electronic ballot to turn on as you enter the booth. The clerk then stacks the tickets on the table where you sign in, and it was interesting (there's that word again) to note that there were A LOT more Democratic tickets than GOP ones. Not sure what that means, considering Pee-A's system is not a winner-take-all, straight popular vote, but rather one in which a candidate must win a given congressional district, all of which are divided proportionally. However, the pledged delegates to the convention are NOT evenly distributed, which means it's more likely more delegates will come from Democratic strongholds like Pittsburgh and Philly. (Got that?) Anyway, with several hours to go until the polls close, I'm going out on a limb to predict John McCain will win today on the Republican side. Now THAT's punditry.

some jokes just tell themselves

2008-04-21T19:09:00.002-04:00

The horrors of global warming have struck again: Seems an Earth Day celebration in Western Canada was wiped out by a blizzard, according this story in the Edmonton Sun. Where's Al Gore when we need him to fight the good fight?

hold page one: dick scaife endorses hillary clinton

2008-04-21T17:41:00.009-04:00

Down is up, up is down: The Pittsburgh Tribune-Review has endorsed Hillary Clinton in Tuesday's Pee-A Democratic primary. This is at once completely understandable and utterly unbelievable. Understandable because, with The Trib being one of the most politically conservative daily newspapers in the country, there's a cold calculation at work: On matters of policy, Clinton is clearly the lesser of two evils to right-wing wing nuts (ahem). And come November, given Obama's burgeoning status as a "rock star" candidate, The Trib no doubt figures John McCain has a better chance to beat Clinton should Clinton ultimately become the Dems' nominee. But still: Anyone who recalls Bill Clinton's presidency will remember the smear campaign against him conducted by The Trib's publisher, Richard Mellon Scaife, who financed, among other things, the notorious Arkansas Project. Anyone else recall when Hillary went on The Today Show to blast "the vast right-wing conspiracy" against her husband? Well, Dick Scaife was at the heart of all that. Sigh. Those were some days. That Scaife has now actually endorsed someone, anyone from the Clinton family has me wondering if the end of the world is nigh.

bill lyon is back!!!

2008-04-21T16:36:00.008-04:00

Some good news and a pleasant surprise in this morning's Philadelphia Inquirer: Retired columnist Bill Lyon, a man who has authored some of the best-written stuff (sports or otherwise) in the history of Philly newspapers, is back. He covered last night's stunning upset win by the 76ers in Game 1 of their playoff series against the Pistons in suburban Detroit, and just as he so often used to do, Lyon provides us with a delectable treat of gentle, elegant prose. Just click this link, sit back and enjoy.

ugh. double ugh.

2008-04-21T16:27:00.004-04:00

Being a Pittsburgh Pirates fan is hard -- really, really hard. And while the season is just 18 games old, it's already reached the point of being excruciating, unbearable and any other hyperbolic sentiment that pretty much says "really sucks." A week ago, the Bucs were 7-6 and treading water, but they've since lost five straight, and it's been bad. Really bad. So bad that WHYGAVS already has had to post a state-of-the-team lament that points the (middle) finger squarely at former general manager Dave Littlefield and how badly he totally effed this franchise for years to come. My goodness, when does football season start?

pro football really does rule the world

2008-04-20T15:05:00.003-04:00

At least in Pittsburgh, anyway. So you wanna schedule a wedding, a party, or even a church fund-raiser this fall? Better not do it at a time when the Steelers are playing, since they will monopolize the interests of virtually everyone in Western Pennsylvania, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Amazing, ain't it?

By the way, the 2008 NFL schedule came out five days ago, and while I try to avoid thinking too much about football in April, it's worth pointing out what's on the slate for Sept. 21: Steelers at Eagles, the closest thing Pennsylvania has to a statewide steel-cage match. Or something.

the obama-clinton debate last night

2008-04-17T15:57:00.006-04:00

Jeepers, there's a lot of hand-wringing out there. Will Bunch of the Philadelphia Daily News said Charlie Gibson and George Stephanopoulos "disgraced [the] profession of journalism" because their general line of questioning wasn't quite in-line with what's on Bunch's mind. And Greg Mitchell of the Huffington Post agrees.

Well and well. A few thoughts:

1. There is too much on-the-surface stuff being discussed in this campaign, and much of it -- from Obama's pastor to Hillary's having to dodge bullets that were never fired, etc. -- has already been discussed, ad infinitum. Bunch is right: Enough is enough

2. That said, both candidates have addressed some of the issues near and dear to liberal voters -- from rising gas prices to the mortgage crisis to health care to withdrawal from Iraq -- quite often as well. Last I checked, Mr. Bunch, there's nothing wrong with questioning the candidates on matters outside the interests of comfortable, well-to-do liberal journalists whose own worldview is no less narrow than that of those monsters on right-wing talk radio. You may not realize it, Mr. Bunch, both "those people" will be voting, too.

3. Once more, this is why I recommend that people who are serious about this campaign -- and it is a serious campaign -- should do more to inform themselves than watch television or give serious consideration to what some knee-jerk A-hole like Kanye West ever has to say on the subject.

4. It can't be said enough, but here it is: MTV's long-standing campaign to "Rock the Vote" is stupid, and any statistic that shows very few registered voters show up at the polls is actually a good thing. Why? Because if you don't pay attention -- even a little, or at least enough to not be swayed by some last-minute campaign commerical -- I'd much rather you stay home on Election Day. Please.

CLARIFICATION: The other night, a friend informed me she had first registered to vote as a result of MTV's "Rock the Vote," saying it was worthwhile for her for having at least triggered an interest. In hindsight, I probably should have noted that "Rock the Vote" serves a purpose as an introduction, though I still think it short-changes young people because the responsibility of becoming an informed (and responsible) voter ultimately lies with that voter -- and in ways that go beyond sound bites or The Daily Show.

the vindication of mike wise

2008-04-17T15:22:00.002-04:00

Yesterday's post about Mike Wise's column on Flyers fans in the Washington Post has generated its fair share of commentary, judging by the comments section and by remarks made in person by some of my Fly-head friends. But get this: A friend with knowledge of the Flyers tells me the organ-I-zation has run off 20,000 copies of Wise's column and will be distributing one to every fan who attends tonight's game at the Wacho Center. The thinking, obviously, is that the Flyers feel compelled to further get their fans into a frothing, maniacal lather. Which, in an ironic twist the organ-I-zation is obviously too stupid to realize, basically proves Wise's point.

UPDATE: Once word of the Flyers' plan to distribute the column got around, the Washington Post issued a cease-and-desist order to prevent it.

oh, my...

2008-04-16T18:29:00.008-04:00

Mike Wise, writing in today's Washington Post, describes the fan environment at last night's Flyers-Capitals playoff game with this: "The fans wore orange instead of the Capitals' red, and many of the women and children looked as if they could work security for Megadeth."

That's just fantastic.

Then there's this: "Did we mention they show fights on the video scoreboard every period here, more than most arenas show dunks in the NBA? ... Five minutes into the game, they showed a video of Philly's top brawls this past season, many involving [Riley] Cote grabbing hold of an opponents' shirt for leverage before pummeling him to the ice, which is just a swell environment for children ... They flat-out market and sell violence here, sanctioned, unbridled assaults disguised as sport. The Flyers are an instant repudiation of what Gary Bettman wanted the league to become. They are a reminder of the NHL's pugilistic past that just won't go away."

You mean, the Flyers' organ-I-zation caters to (and even encourages) that which goes "beyond the bounds of loutish fan behavior"? Who knew?

UPDATE: Here's a video of Philly fans showing off their creative collective vocabulary in reference to Capitals star Alex Ovechkin. Any chance these folks were on their way to the library?

"call arnold slick from turtle crick!"

2008-04-11T23:26:00.011-04:00

Here come the Penguins, baby.

[photo credit: Peter Diana/Pittsburgh Post-Gazette]

That's right: I'm on the bandwagon. And no, I have no shame.

philly's hottest flyers fans? sheesh.

2008-04-10T17:14:00.005-04:00

Don't you just love radio stations? Don't you just love the way they reach for the lowest common denominator when it comes to all things already low-brow? Don't you? DON'T you? Brace yourself, gentle reader, for WMMR's Philly's Hottest Flyers Fan contest. I have to agree with Philebrity that this "makes Philly feel like the meth-y backwater your momma raised you in." Or at least the one you moved to after college, if you're the life of kings. Anyway, Philebrity's advice that natives not send word of this, um, "contest" to any out-of-town friends rings true: While I certainly agree that Philly women, on the whole, tend to be far better-looking than those in Pittsburgh, the next time one of my jerk friends takes the conversation too far about how many stump-toothed mongrel hillbilly chicks he thinks there are in my hometown, I can always quickly shut him up by directing him back to this. Thanks, 'MMR. Rock on.

you're a good man, charlie batch

2008-04-10T15:54:00.003-04:00

Reading the sports pages these days can be a lot like reading the police blotter. The sense of entitlement and disregard for common decency from some athletes is disturbing, given their status as de facto role models for kids. Obviously, of course, not all of them are bad guys, no matter how many bad-guy stories we have to read. And some, like Steelers backup quarterback Charlie Batch, a local kid from Homestead, are good guys, as this story in today's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette clearly demonstrates. Good for him.

when women entered the press box

2008-04-08T12:46:00.002-04:00

Just got around to this Pohla Smith story from Friday's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. It's a first-hand account of what she encountered as a woman working in the male-dominated world of sportswriting back in the 1970s. Fascinating to see how times have changed.

thoughts on kansas 75, memphis 68 (ot)

2008-04-08T11:11:00.006-04:00

There's only one, really: What in the name of Barry Goheen were the Memphis Tigers thinking at the end of regulation? How in the world does a team coached by John Calipari let the opposition attempt a potential game-tying 3-pointer in the waning seconds when leading by three points? How do you not foul? Geoff Calkins, writing in this morning's Memphis Commerical Appeal, sums up this remarkable collapse rather nicely. But to me, anyway, that one play is the one that matters. For those who don't get my drift, Calipari was an assistant coach on the awesome 1988 Pitt team that lost to Vanderbilt in the second round of the NCAA tournament because it allowed Barry Goheen to dribble the length of the floor before attempting a 3 at the buzzer. As regular readers of the blog know, that game still haunts me. Pitt, like Memphis in last night's national title game, went on to lose in overtime. And Calipari, the slicker-than-slick Memphis coach, was an assistant coach on that Pitt team. He said repeatedly after the game that his team had tried to foul, but it sure didn't look like it, did it? The players obviously didn't get the message. And Calipari had two timeouts remaining after Derrick Rose's free throws with 10.8 seconds left; there was nothing to prevent him from using one to make sure his kids knew what they had to do. Shockingly, that's two years in a row a team coached by someone with a connection to the '88 Pitt Panthers has been eliminated by a play like that. Xavier, which is coached by Sean Miller, an outstanding freshman guard on that Pitt team, let Ohio State get away with it in the second round last year. As my cousin Pat, the man largely responsible for my bleeding heart love affair with Pitt hoops, said in a text message late last night: "How many times does Barry Goheen have to happen before somebody gets it?"

death by blogging

2008-04-06T20:21:00.001-04:00

The dissemination of news and information ain't what it used to be.

what's wrong with the newspaper business

2008-04-03T13:37:00.007-04:00

In a word -- or three -- it's stuff like this, which, to me, anyway, epitomizes the sort of journalistic laziness and all-around dead wood that permeates the business. Bob Smizik has been writing for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette since Pittsburgh was a French and Indian War battleground, and he often takes a contrarian stance with regard to much of the city's conventional sporting wisdom. Fine and fine. But three observations regarding that complete piece of crud he authored today:

1. Smizik is not in Atlanta for the Pirates' season-opening series against the Braves, something that would provide him the opportunity to observe the team up close and, you know, actually interview somebody to help broaden the perspective of what he writes. In other words, to do his freakin' job.

2. I counted four spelling and/or grammatical errors. This is as much the fault of the P-G's copy desk as it is of Smizik, but still: It's not like he was rushed by having to shag quotes from the clubhouse after the game or anything.

3. How in the world can he write that the Pirates ought to keep, rather than trade, Xavier Nady based on just two games out of what is a 162-games season? Sitting on his couch watching the game on TV, he obviously had no column idea as his deadline approached, so he winged it.

Bottom line: Readers today are more discerning, and those of us in this business owe it to them not to insult their intelligence. Problem is, newspapers might be the only industry in the country in which one's overall job performance is not tied to one's ability to keep a job, even when younger, hungrier, better talent is out there to replace him. Not that I'm jaded or anything.

"a rumor of angels"

2008-04-01T19:54:00.005-04:00

It's the little things, day in and day out, that most often give us joy, even if we rarely take the effort to ponder, as we experience them, how good they make us feel. I still have a contact high from having spent Sunday afternoon with friends in Baltimore, indulging in the many simple pleasures of Fells Point, so maybe that's why I so thoroughly enjoyed John Derbyshire's most recent "The Straggler" essay in National Review, "A Rumor of Angels."

Money quote:

A young woman comes to wipe my table. Her name tag bears a common Hungarian surname. Guessing she is an H-2B (that is, a bearer of a seasonal-guest-worker visa), I offer her a greeting in that language, of which I know a few tourist’s phrases. She is delighted, and favors me with a stream of animated Hungarian. Of course I can’t understand a word.

We switch to English. She is indeed an H-2B, a student from Transylvania. I passed through that region once, a couple of decades before Miss Nagy was born, and we trade Transylvanian reminiscences till she is called back to the serving counter. For a while I sit there sunk in memories of my Wanderjahre while savoring the glow that a man — any man, even an incurably married old guy — gets from the attentions, however brief and accidental, of a pretty young woman. Do they have skiing in the Carpathians nowadays, I wonder? I forget to ask. Back to my book.

Fantastic. The end of the essay is a treat, too. Do yourself a favor and read the whole thing.

"i'll have the super bowl special, with extra spit, please..."

2008-03-28T18:54:00.013-04:00

This afternoon, the Associated Press moved a story that an editor at work happened to forward to me. The editor's subject line read, "Be careful if you order anything from microsoft." Seems some folks in Seattle aren't quite over Super Bowl XL, that splendid football game played on Feb. 5, 2006, when the Steelers beat the Seahawks, 21-10, to win their fifth world championship. [Not to gloat or anything.]

Anyway, here's the story in its entirety:

PORT ORCHARD, Wash. (AP) -- A fast-food cook and Seattle Seahawks fan has been accused of spitting on a hamburger ordered by a man wearing Pittsburgh Steelers attire. Kitsap County sheriff's deputies say the 37-year-old customer was with his daughters at the Port Orchard-area eatery last Saturday. He reportedly traded remarks with an employee about Super Bowl XL in which the Seahawks lost to the Steelers. When the customer opened his food container, he says there was spittle on the burger. He demanded a refund and called the fast-foot outlet's district manager. The manager told deputies a 24-year-old man might be responsible. The next day, deputies went to his house and smelled marijuana. The man was released after being booked for investigation of fourth-degree assault and possession of marijuana.

Goodness, talk about a bad day -- and not necessarily because the AP let that story hit the wire with such an awkward, tense-shifting sentence as, "When the customer opened his food container, he says there was spittle on the burger." Nah. I'm talking about Fast Food Dude. I mean, one afternoon you're merrily flipping burgers, just minding your own business, when next thing you know you're in the hole with Bubba, your resume now topped with a double dollop of assault and dope charges. All because your favorite football team couldn't tackle Willie Parker, and you couldn't handle being reminded of that fact by some hungry schlub who happens to dress like me. Stinks, man. Of course, had I been the Steelers fan who discovered my Special Sauce had been substituted with Sore Loser Seattle Spittle, I might have been satisfied by simply taking my food back to the counter with the admonition that the line cook could "kiss my rings" and enjoy his day. But that's me. After all, because this particular Steelers fan preferred to press charges, I got to kill some time on a Friday evening by typing this crap, while you just lost a few precious minutes of your life by actually reading this far. Oh, well. Pass the ketchup -- preferably Heinz, of course -- and Go Steelers.

george vescey on the voice of yankee stadium

2008-03-27T16:03:00.004-04:00

Wanna know why sports are cool, beyond what happens on the field? Check out George Vescey's column from today's New York Times on Bob Sheppard, the longtime public address announcer at Yankee Stadium who is recovering from bronchitis. As anyone who's seen a ballgame in the Bronx knows, Sheppard's voice is deep and distinctive -- what God must sound like if He were to recite a lineup card. Best of all, Sheppard is simple and never, ever obtrusive. Money quote from Vescey, on word that Sheppard would be back behind the mike by June or July:

This news was a glorious harbinger of spring, a reassurance we have survived the horrors of winter and the Knicks and cheating governors on both sides of the Hudson, and now it is time for the world to resume.

Cool.

the meaning of fewer reporters on the campaign trail

2008-03-26T20:15:00.009-04:00

Fascinating story on the front page of today's New York Times about what the economic reality of the journalism business is doing to campaign coverage -- namely, that fewer print media organizations are sending reporters on the road to cover the candidates full-time. As the story notes, the effects of this are obvious:

Traveling campaign reporters say they try to do more than just regurgitate raw information or spoon-fed news of the day, which anyone who watches speeches on YouTube can do. The best of them track the evolution and growth (or lack thereof) of candidates; spot pandering and inconsistencies or dishonesty; and get a measure of the candidate that could be useful should he or she become [sic] president.

With more and more newspapers cutting back on expenses and relying on wire services for on-the-road coverage, there are fewer eyes and ears to offer any kind of additional perspective. And competition, at least in the world of ideas, is good for consumers -- especially ~~educated~~ discerning consumers of news and information. The Times' story rightly notes that there is a lot of "pack journalism" out there -- those clusterfucks where everybody's asking the same question and getting the same answer. Sometimes, of course, clusterfucks can't be helped. But the best in the business find a way to mine for more -- talking to a candidates' advisers or other sources away from the fray, paying attention to non-verbal cues, making an extra phone call, etc. The increasing reliance on wire services, or on bloggers not getting a first-hand glimpse of the candidates on a day-to-day basis, does not, at least to my mind, bode well for us. All of us.

UPDATE: I changed the word "educated" to "discerning" above, since, upon further review, discerning readers need not necessarily be educated. The importance of editors can never be underestimated.

the book on philly nightlife

2008-03-25T20:06:00.004-04:00

David Grazian, a sociology professor at Penn, has written a book called On the Make: The Hustle of Urban Nightlife, in which he explores, using mostly anonymous interviews, the nightlife culture in Philly. Grazian's focus is specific to Rittenhouse Square and Old City, places with which I'm (ahem) rather familiar. The book looks interesting, at least according to this interview with Grazian in the March 20-27 issue of Philadelphia City Paper. Money quote from the end of A.D. Amorosi's CP piece:

The biggest surprise in On the Make was the discovery of how anxiety-inducing urban nightlife can be, and not just for the wallflowers. "Shrinking violets and 40-year-old virgins, sure, they were scared," says Grazian. "But also the popular kids and the beautiful people -- especially the popular kids and the beautiful people. I sometimes think we'd all just be better off dressing down, and stop trying so hard to be hip. Having fun should be way more fun than this."

As anyone who knows me will attest, I couldn't agree more.

television news can sometimes be completely inane

2008-03-24T19:02:00.000-04:00

Just caught a glimpse of Comcast SportsNet's report on the big Phillies rally at City Hall earlier today. After the usual insightful interviews with fans shouting -- why must some of them shout, by the way? There's a microphone, and we can easily hear every word they say -- the reporter on site stood before the camera and said, "The one consensus that can be reached..." You know, as opposed to all those other consensuses (consensi?) out there. Obviously, speaking extemporaneously and ad-libbing can be tricky: Few of us can be expected to use the right words on live TV all the time, every time. But this was a segment that had been taped earlier, so the poor guy (and his editors) had ample opportunity to make sure his choice of words was a tad bit tidier. But, no. And the consensus to which this reporter was so earnestly referring? Wait for it, sports fans: Those gathered at City Hall really really really hope the Phils will "go all the way" this season. Gee whiz. Really?

the ncaa tournament: pitt out, 'nova plays on

2008-03-24T18:47:00.001-04:00

Right on cue, the Pitt Panthers performed their annual March Madness disappearing act Saturday night against Michigan State, while the Villanova Wildcats came back to beat Clemson on Friday before running Siena out of the gym on Sunday. My cousin Jack, a 'Nova grad, said he hoped to see some love for the Wildcats in this space today. Well, here it is: 'Nova is the last PA team still playing, and good for them, considering they're still a year (or two) away from playing to their full potential. But 'Nova is, and always will be, the bad guys when it comes to Philly hoops, seeing themselves as on a higher plane than the city's other schools, at least in the eyes of many of their fans. Actually cheering for them requires a suspension of integrity I just can't muster right now. Besides, Pitt's loss on Saturday has me too jaded to even care about what happens the rest of the way. Bring on baseball.

allen iverson's return to philly

2008-03-20T18:21:00.005-04:00

The Answer's first game as an opponent at the Wachovia Center last night certainly was something to see, from the 65-second standing ovation he received to his kissing the Sixers' team logo upon taking the floor to his insightful reflections on an enigmatic, if dazzling, career in Philadelphia. Fact: Allen Iverson is the most dynamic basketball talent I have ever seen, if only because what he lacks in size he more than makes up for with quickness and heart. No one played harder, which made him that rarity in today's spoiled landscape of professional sports: As a fan, you got your money's worth, all night, every night. There was, of course, so much off-the-court stuff, stuff that makes one wonder if... both if he was capable of carrying a team to a title, given the right parts, and if he really was a valuable teammate, given his aversion to practice and his willingness to take so many shots. Alas, we'll never know. But for one more night, The Little Guy made the house rock at Broad and Pattison, even if -- as Mike Sielski notes in his column in the Bucks County Courier Times -- he once again couldn't make his team win.

"newspapers are still far from dead, but the language of the obituary is creeping in"

2008-03-19T18:15:00.002-04:00

The reality is grim, to be sure, but I still believe there is hope. We have to adjust, that's all. Online enterprises -- and their varying deadlines -- are a must.

pitt win win, pitt will lose: march madness is here

2008-03-19T16:14:00.006-04:00

It's March Madness, which means we're in the midst of the best two weeks on the sports calendar. Nothing better illustrates the unpredictability of the NCAA tournament than the fact that no one's an expert -- not even the experts. Bob Knight, the winningest coach in college basketball history, picks none other than the Pitt Panthers to win the damn thing. But then there's Dick Jerardi, the Philadelphia Daily News' longtime college basketball guru, who picks Pitt to get ousted in Thursday's first round by Oral Roberts. Who's to say who's right? Starting tomorrow, we'll find out. I, for one, tend to side with Jerardi: Being a Pitt fan, after all, means you know you're guaranteed to be let down. Your heart is mostly scar tissue anyway, so let's get this over with already.

why they say you shouldn't sh*t where you eat...

2008-03-12T15:56:00.004-04:00

...because you might wind up like this. Sheesh.

banning bloggers?

2008-03-11T23:23:00.005-04:00

We're going to see more of this in the future, I'm afraid. Not only are more newspapers using bloggers to supplement their print coverage, but more and more newspaper people are actually leaving newspapers to blog on their own full-time. How much can sports teams (and, by extension, other organizations) limit the access of those who wish to cover them? It's not so clear-cut. On one hand, teams and other organizations have always issued credentials to working members of actual news outlets. But if, say, the life of kings sought access to a given event, would a team or organization be obliged to grant it? Not so simple, huh? Perhaps I should just try to walk into the Super Bowl or the Final Four in the future. I'm willing to bet I get ~~my ass kicked by security~~ accorded the utmost respect for all of my fine work.