The Royals Are in First Place!

A friend wrote this week: "Pitchers and catchers report. Nothing sounds better than that!"

February is the most optimistic month of the year. Valentine's Day does occur, which is the day to indulge in guilt-free chocolate with loved ones. It's also the month that the Super Bowl ends, so the airwaves are free of that clutter for at least six months. And, of course, batteries report. Every team is in first place and the Yankees are in last. Somehow, all seems right with the world.

Before we confine the recent orgy of advertising, hype and blather to the dustbin of history, a few musings:

While the Ravens' run to the title was a compelling story, there were a few details I could not quite get past. All their players wore a patch for their late owner on their jerseys, thus celebrating the life of the person who moved the team to their city. I am old enough to remember that post-midnight escapade when moving vans spirited the beloved Colts from their home city to Indianapolis. Baltimoreans were crushed at the loss of their home team, so much so that they did the same to another city (Cleveland) a decade later. Sorry, two wrongs do not make a right.

For my second notion, allow me to paraphrase Stephen Colbert: Ray Lewis now has as many Super Bowl rings as indictments for murder. I never liked him as a player, feeling particularly appalled at the events that surrounded his last appearance at a Super Bowl. I was surprised to hear the spate of adulatory comments from all the media about the end of his glorious career, with little mention of that dark chapter from years ago. They did spend a great deal of time remarking on his faith. I do find his conversion convenient. But then, I have never liked the outbursts where athletes thank their lord and savior for their victory; the logical conclusion to such a statement is that the losing team must surely be allied with the devil.

I also read that the unfortunate blackout proved that the American populace will stare at a television set for at least a half hour with absolutely nothing on.

February is also the month when college basketball is in its purest form, full of teams jousting for consideration for the postseason. We also get to see ordinary teams knock off heavily-favored ones, which happens with more frequency in this than in any other sport. Now, if we could just put an end to that annual pledge drive for alumni contributions known as the conference tournament, I would feel even better about the sport.

Enough of that; on to happier thoughts.

February 15 is the date when pitchers and catchers begin their official workouts. The news is full of reports of who has changed teams, how some are recovering from off-season surgeries and last season's injuries, expected reporting dates for others and team-by-team breakdowns on Sports Center. Years ago, this was the time of year when my subscription to the Sporting News kicked in. There was a page on each team, followed by a heading of clever alliteration: Mets Musings, Royals Rambles, Nats Notes and so on throughout the Bigs.

When I was a youngster, I used to listen to my hometown Tulsa Oilers (AA, Texas League) on the radio. They were a farm team of the Cardinals, so I also used to dial in my AM radio to their broadcasts. I followed the rise of some to the Big Club and the rehab stints in the minors of others. The Cards were my team. Imagine my excitement when my father announced that we would drive to St. Louis for a couple of games one summer. We saw the Giants in one game and the Dodgers in another. I remember Sportsman's Park as being old and full of people dressed in red. I also recall my father telling me about Stan the Man, that I could, someday, tell my own children that I had seen the immortal Stan Musial in his prime. He had the most unusual batting stance, one that was never duplicated; I don't know that it was ever even imitated. I also don't recall if we ate at Musial's Restaurant in St. Louis, but I did have an autographed picture of him, which I assume that I got at his restaurant.

Mr. Musial recently passed away. To the end, he was regarded as a man who thoroughly enjoyed life. He apparently regarded each day he spent in the uniform of his beloved Cardinals as a gift, one he enjoyed for over 20 years. He was also considered one of the toughest outs in the game. The story was retold after his death, in which the manager of the Dodgers once asked his pitcher, Preacher Roe, how he intended to get Musial out that day. Roe is alleged to have responded: I'll throw him four wide ones, then hope to pick him off first base.

No other sport contributes such colorful tales to our language. Baseball is full of them. Isn't it grand to hear them once again? February is the most optimistic month of the year. And, the Royals are in first place.

It's Time

I made frequent trips to Oklahoma the past few years to visit my mother; on many of them, I accompanied her to a doctor's office. At the entrance to each building that housed medical practitioners, the decal pictured above was displayed. As I had never seen such a thing in my life, I was compelled to ask to ask once inside: is there a possibility that one would bring weapons into a medical practice? If so, why? No one ever answered me.

It seems that Oklahoma is a state that allows one to conceal and to carry one's firearms. I think one can even carry one into a place that sells liquor, as long as the sale of liquor is not that establishment's primary business. What could possibly go wrong if one combines liquor sales with loaded weapons? I have an image of an irate guest in a Chili's responding to rude service or unacceptable food.

We have had this discussion many times over the years. In every situation, one side states that we need to do something to curb the random violence in which innocents are slaughtered by an armed madman. The other side states that they will accept no regulation on the sale and distribution of any kind of weapon or ammunition. The latter position was eloquently stated by Charlton Heston when he bellowed that you would have to pry his gun from his cold, dead hands before he would give it to you.

I do not say this as a way of laying the foundation for some argument of equivalence.

I have deliberately avoided following much of the news about the shootings that occurred last month in Connecticut. That this took place is something that should be so horrible as to be beyond our comprehension. Yet, it was not an isolated event, merely the latest in a string of obscene mass homicides.

One of the facts I have retained is that each of the victims in that school was shot multiple times, almost all in the head. Another is that the gunman was armed with weapons equipped with ammunition magazines that enabled the firing of dozens of bullets within seconds.

I don't own a gun; in fact, it is unlikely that I will ever own one. I do not, however, think that my preference on gun ownership should apply to all citizens. If people enjoy hunting or target shooting or collecting firearms, then they should be allowed to do so. The NRA and their defenders in Congress and on their cable channel scream loudly about their Constitutional rights, citing a vaguely-worded sentence in the 2nd Amendment as their rationale.

The First Amendment is less equivocal, going so far as to state that Congress shall make no law (emphasis added) infringing freedom of speech, religion, assembly or press. Have we not made some boundaries around these specific prohibitions? Justice Holmes famously wrote that freedom of speech does not give one the right to yell fire in a crowded theater. Libel laws exist to protect citizens from lies printed for the purpose of defamation. Groups can assemble peacefully, but not to sacrifice live animals. Can we not permit similar limits on the sale, regulation or possession of firearms? Is there not some common ground between no regulation and confiscation of all guns?

Let's call these arms and ammunition used by these murderers what they are: weapons of mass destruction, for they are designed to do but two things: to kill lots of people and to do so quickly. We should not allow assault and automatic weapons and high-capacity magazines to be in the hands of anyone but those who are trained in their safe and proper use, such as members of the military and law enforcement officers. Civilization will not end if we get these instruments off the streets; it may, in fact, become more tame.

I read a quote this past week; unfortunately, I cannot recall where I saw it. It said something to the effect that we need guns so that we can resist our government when it becomes a tyranny. That government becomes a tyranny when it tries to take our guns away. Joseph Heller would be so pleased. Maybe it's time we injected some common sense into this dialogue.

Words To Live By

A few months ago, I posted a presumptive missive about a few of my favorite words, or, as one of my friends called it, pedantry for the people. Another friend quoted E.B. White, who famously stated that one should not use a three dollar word when a one dollar one would suffice. As I agree with both of them, I present the latest installment of a few of my favorite words:

Schadenfreude - my older daughter, Dr. Princess Julia, is particularly fond of this one. For those of you (like me) who prefer it in context, think of that over-compensating fellow who races by you on highway, zipping in and out of traffic, and how you feel when you see the same vehicle, pulled over by a police officer several miles down the road. Pleasure at another's misfortune, indeed!

Cacophony - Quickly, my fellow Americans, when and where was the most recent World Cup? If that escapes your memory, I will bet you recall the sounds of that particular event, those plastic horns called vuvuzelas (not a bad word, itself). My point: that was a cacophony of sound; loud, discordant, annoying.

Unuxorious - I shouldn't kick a man when he's down, but this one was too rich to omit. Prior to the recent Summer Olympics, Governor Romney was interviewed by a newsman, who asked if he was planning to attend the competition featuring the horse owned by he and his wife. The governor responded that Rafalca was his wife's interest, and he really knew little of it and would probably not watch it. A reporter thought this the opposite of his true feelings towards Mrs. Romney. If "uxorious" is "doting upon... or especially submissive towards one's wife", then unuxorious would be, well, not so much. This was at the same time that Stephen Colbert defined Dressage as the sport of the summer for those who use summer as a verb.

Feckless - I love a word that can be defined by its mere pronunciation. Come on, say this one aloud; what does it sound like to you? Doesn't it just scream lily-livered?

Epistemic Closure - This gained some traction in the wake of the recent election. Karl Rove, among other commentators on a particular cable channel, predicted a landslide victory for one candidate, despite mass evidence to the contrary from the polls. One columnist described it as life in the bubble; wishing does not make it so.

Finally, my nomination to be added to the year-end list of most over-used words: fiscal cliff. Any argument on that one?

The Most Wonderful Time of Year, Part Deux

I love college football. There is something about the tradition, the color, the rivalries, the pageantry and the possibility that maybe, just maybe, an unheralded school can knock off a traditional powerhouse (anyone remember Appalachian State?). Teams play in venues with stories passed through generations of families and students. Death Valley (times 2), The Swamp, the Big House, Happy Valley - all conjure images of unforgettable times in the lives of current and former students and fans across the country. Both of my daughters and their friends posed for photos in caps & gowns on their football field. I attended a function at the stadium in Ann Arbor a few months ago. Despite the rain, dozens of attendees took pictures of each other on that field. I know, it's a big business that exploits the labors of young men, euphemistically referred to as scholar/athletes whenever the crass venality of the business is exposed. It doesn't matter to me; I still enjoy it.

Just as I have some indelible memories of specific games over the years, I also have some in-bred likes and dislikes for various teams and personages. A few from the litany:

As a Catholic kid growing up in Oklahoma, I quickly learned that God, country and football are what mattered. At this time of year, however, the order altered somewhat, with OU football achieving primacy. Cheering for OU was just what one did. This loyalty could also blind one to the seamier side of life, like when some players encountered legal difficulty in the Switzer era. Of greater importance was winning; some coaches did not long survive, as they didn't win.

I naturally find it difficult to root for Notre Dame. Who can forget that those papists snapped the most storied streak in all of football, the 47 consecutive games won by the Sooners. Legend has it that the one score of the game (lost by OU, 7-0) turned on a missed clipping call against the Irish. A side effect: it was another 15 years before the state activities association would permit Catholic high schools to compete in state athletic tournaments. Notre Dame was later coached by Ara Parseghian, who allegedly perpetrated the food poisoning suffered by OU players when they traveled to play Northwestern, the team he was then coaching. This same Ara, while coaching Notre Dame, went for a tie in the next Game of the Century, against Michigan State in the late 60's, instead of going for the win. Naturally, Notre Dame was ranked #1. Maybe it's due to the legend of Rockne, or their national fan base or the televising of each game, but I have long believed that the Irish have been the beneficiary of some bias on the part of officials, perhaps unintentional. Their wins at Oklahoma and against Stanford this year each received a boost from very suspect calls.


I don't like decals on helmets. The teams that sport so many of them - Florida State, Georgia, Ohio State (aka the CCotUF; ask for a translation) - are among my least favorite teams. I know they're good schools. I have met many alums of FSU during my time in the hotel business, each of whom has proven to be smart and talented. Two of the peers in my current job whom I respect the most are graduates of Georgia. One of my daughter's grad school colleagues attended Ohio State; I have learned much about the programs they offer that have earned my admiration. Still, I don't get the decals. Do they get these stickers for great plays? Okay; does that also mean that they get some taken away for poor ones? I think not. I suppose there is some tradition at each school about these things; I would prefer to see a team sport something designed by Lisa Frank.


Most of the coaches at the college level appear to be humorless automatons who just aren't very good sports and will do anything to win. You want a reason to think ill of them? Here is the answer in two words: Lane Kiffin. Does anyone believe he had nothing to do with the deflated football kerfuffle in the Oregon game? Nick Saban yelled at his players for dousing him with Gatorade when they won their first title a few years ago. Seriously. Mark Richt and his players refused to shake hands with the upstarts from Central Florida when they had the gall to defeat them in the Liberty Bowl. These guys make millions of dollars a year, never pay for a game of golf, a car or clothes and don't need to work another day in their lives. Can't they act like they enjoy it? Bob Stoops and Will Muschamp seem to have things a bit more in perspective, although the Gators coach does tend to wear his emotions quite visibly. I have observed each of these two smiling and laughing on the sidelines, which certainly separates them from their counterparts.

Just as stadium names in college football are superior to their professional counterparts (Bank of America stadium is hardly anything to get excited about.), team names have similar preference. Gators, Sooners, Gamecocks, Crimson Tide, Longhorns, Ducks (the only team allowed to use a Disney character), Volunteers, Beavers, Nittany Lions are all names that can apply to only one place on earth. Now, most fans even know who the Golden Flashes are.

My children never saw a minute of football until they went to college. At Florida, they rarely missed a game. They became rabid fans, which they remain to this day. I have heard similar stories from people who attended Oklahoma, Florida State and Penn State. There is nothing quite like the loyalty and collegiality that fans share about their college teams. Although neither of my two favorites will be playing for the title, they may end up playing each other in the Sugar Bowl. As to that BCS championship game, it appears that it will pit two teams for which I have decades-long enmity against each other. Whatever will I do?

It's Almost Over, Kids

Frequent visitors to this spot have doubtlessly been awaiting with nearly breathless anticipation a lengthy rationale why someone is or is not tempermentally suited for the office, or my suggestion on some obscure state ballot question. I'll pass. On a less-positive note, I would suppose that anyone who remains undecided, after a billion dollars of advertising and untold stories about everything from Rafalca to whether he said that or not, should perhaps be ineligible to vote.

I gave up in-person voting about 20 years ago. My reasons for this action had nothing to do with Acorn (remember them?) or any other such group. Instead, I was always angered when, approaching the polling station, I was besieged by people attempting to hand me a leaflet promoting one candidate or cause over another. My reaction was always the same: I would get into an argument with the offender, accusing her or him of having so little regard for the intelligence of their fellow citizens that the mere presence of a leaflet in hand would sway my vote at this moment of truth. It was such an unfair fight.

Over this span of time, I have not missed voting in an election, as I have used the absentee method. I sent mine in three weeks ago. I have since taken the time to note some of the foibles of this election season. Some favorites:

There are billboards plastered all over Atlanta, informing the local populace that voting enables the citizen to enter a contest to win a free gun. I'm not certain what cause that organization is promoting, but I am disturbed that ballots and bullets be so intertwined.

Bumper stickers are a perennial favorite soapbox. A couple of the winners I have seen of late:

On a car that could charitably be described as a heap: "This time, elect an American". I don't know if this person was from another country or not. When last I checked, Hawaii is a state in this Union of ours, which, according to the Constitution, makes our current President eligible for the job.

On a pickup truck with Texas plates: "Secede". I do not believe they have thought that one all the way to its logical fruition. Plus, wasn't that sentiment outlawed about 150 years ago?

My personal favorite, though, is one for the ages. A vintage Mercedes, with a like-new sticker, stating: "Don't Blame Me, I Voted for McGovern." I immediately started to hum a tune from Rocky Horror.

As for all the blathering that will emanate from our televisions over the next 36 hours, I'll pass on that, too. I prefer to wait to hear how the two most literate pundits on the airwaves weigh in on the subject Wednesday night at 11 on Comedy Central.

For those of you who have not yet voted, please do so tomorrow. This right is also our privilege.

Save Big Bird!

I have been an observer of politics as far back as I can recall. I typically avoid the theater that is disguised as debate, as I can think of but one sentence of substance in all that have taken place since Carter was President (that would be Ross Perot in 92, asking his distinguised opponents how they would pay for their proposals). This week was no exception. Since neither candidate will state what they truly would like to accomplish as President, for fear of becoming the subject of a distorted ad, we are stuck with the frenzy of the chattering classes, who are seeking the next sigh, glance at a watch or a rolling of eyes.

I have always preferred the injection of humor into our otherwise staid, dishonest discourse. But, it's not a fair fight: to counteract Jon Stewart, who can the Republicans offer? One can always make fun of Louie Gohmert or Michele Bachmann (simply Google either name and the word "quotes"; you'll unearth some astounding intuitive leaps). There was also the great one-liner from Senator Jon Kyl, who, after offering up a whopper about some topic, on the following day mentioned that his comment was "not intended to be a factual statement." One of my favorites from Mr. Stewart this year was his characterization of how long it takes a candidate to do a 180 degree turn from a previously stated position. He called that a Romney, which is, in real time, about 3 or 4 hours. His description of the Moochocracy was another hoot.

When I saw the clip of Mr. Romney stating he would sack Big Bird, I thought he was auditioning for the Mark Twain prize that celebrates American humor. This man, who publicly stated that he likes firing people, finally identified one. I will guess that the humor may have been unintentional, since the discussion was about deficit reduction. This year, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting received government funding of $445 million, which amounts to 1/100th of 1 percent of the federal budget. Meanwhile, estimates of federal subsidies to big oil companies are around $4 billion. Yes, the consonants on the dollar amounts are correct.

It makes me long for the days of Dick Tuck. Mr. Tuck was a staffer in the office of Helen Gahagan Douglas (yes, the dreaded Pink Lady) in 1950. He later engaged in a series of pranks targeting Richard Nixon. The most famous allegedly occurred in 1968, when Mr. Tuck hired a very pregnant woman to walk around a Nixon rally, holding a sign with the campaign's slogan: "Nixon's the One". Surely, someone can trot out Oscar the Grouch or Cookie Monster or even the noted Big Bird to hound Romney rallies. Now, that would be funny.

Here We Go Round the Prickly Pear

I awoke Tuesday morning, took a nice walk in the brisk Fall air and returned home to enjoy morning coffee with a recap of the day's news. Little did I know that the world had ended the previous evening. It seems the football contest in Seattle concluded in such a way to cause immense weeping and gnashing of teeth in the nation's sports pages, blogosphere and social media outlets.

Of course, I found a clip of this latest example of the Decline of Civilization. My conclusion: yes, someone blew the call. This is not the first time an official's ruling has changed the outcome of a game. I can think of at least two examples from baseball: the Denkinger fiasco in the 1985 World Series and the non-fan interference call on Jeter's hit to the fence in the 1996 Playoffs (from which the Orioles have yet to recover). I am certain that there have been similar examples from football, but none spring to mind.

Admittedly, I am not a fan of pro football, finding it soulless, money-grubbing and entirely too time-consuming. As these are but my opinions, I agree that they are not intended to be factual statements. Still, I find this amusing.

It seems that the root cause of this situation is that the pros are using substitute officials, as there is a dispute with the organization representing the league's regular officials, resulting in a lock-out. The number I have heard bandied about is a $3 million difference between the league's position and that of the union. That, too, may not be a factual statement.

The lather continues its foment, with all sorts of people screaming for this strike/lockout/outrage to end. True confession: I am no fan of organized labor, due to my own life experiences. I will concede, however, that some good has come out of them and they do perform a critical role in certain fields of employment. This morning, I read that the governor of Wisconsin, perhaps the most famous foe that labor has at the moment, has come out in favor of settling this strike. Irony has a new face and its name is Scott Walker.

I will speculate that the onus of settlement rests upon the owners, hardly known for radical thought, social engineering or income redistribution, unless it results in padding their already hefty slice of the national income pie. Therefore, if fans of the game want the regular officials to be allowed to return to work, they should apply some pressure of their own and hit the owners with language that they understand. Some suggestions:

1. Don't go to the game this Sunday. I realize this is foolish, since most of the tickets have already been purchased, especially in those cities that traditionally sell out every game.

2. If you have to go to the game, carpool and park somewhere other than a stadium lot. Most owners receive a cut of the parking gate as a condition for gracing each city with the presence of their respective teams.

3. If you actually go into the stadium, don't buy any concessions. No beer, no hot dogs, no whatever it is they vend at stadia nowadays. Again, since owners get a cut of this revenue, this might take a bite as well.

4. Don't buy any beer that advertises during the football telecasts for a week or two. Hit the advertisers, they will put pressure on the owners.

I do realize that people will not give up the habits that have sprung up around the 12 minutes of action we are blessed to witness on Sundays. Even if they did so, it would probably have as little effect on the outcome as my decades-long boycott of Exxon. As for me, well, I just won't watch any game until they settle the thing. That'll show em.