Brucefan is back

The Passage of Time

2011-12-14T06:40:00.000-08:00

Today is my stepdaughter's birthday. She is 17 today, drives herself to school every day, and is thinking about college. She was five when I first met her. Where did the time go?

Nothing makes you feel more mortal than the silent, steady passage of time. Last week, I noted the anniversary of the murder of John Lennon. Like a slap in the face, I realized that 31 years had passed since that horrible night. Little Sean Ono Lennon, who in my memory is frozen as a five year-old boy devestated by his father's death, is now a 36 year-old man. How in the world can that be?

I can go on and on about these things. It's been 25 years since the '86 Mets won the World Series, 36 years since the night I saw Springsteen and the E Street Band for the first time. I've been practicing law for the last 25 years and my biological daughter, at times frozen in my mind as a little girl, turns 20 in February.

I've always been told that people get wiser as they get older. I'm not so sure I believe that. It seems that I've made some pretty stupid decisions in the last ten years, and the consequences have been brutal. But in the long run, maybe they were not so bad after all, and they have led to better things. I'm in a much better place than I was five years ago, both spiritually and physically, and that's clearly a good thing.

I still have my dreams and goals. Someday I will play in the main event of the World Series of Poker. Hopefully, I won't get knocked out in the first fifteen minutes. I look forward to seeing my kids be successful and happy, and yes, I look forward to some day being a grandpa. But not anytime soon.

I'm pretty disgusted at the direction this country has taken. The political mood is so divisive and I think we have lost much of what made our country great. So many people want to tell me how to live my life, and how to think, and how to vote. It makes me angry and pessimistic about the future. Maybe it was always like this, and I'm just looking at the world from a 53 year-old view, and not a 30 year-old view. Maybe not.

The worst thing is that there are too many people I have lost who mean so much to me. I miss them, and not even the passage of time has changed that. I would love to be able to talk to my Dad one more time, and have him give me that good, reasoned advice that he always gave me. I don't think I will ever get over the loss of him. I would love to hear my late brother-in-law sing and play his guitar one more time. And I would love to be able to see my aunt and know that she recognizes me and still loves me. And just once, I would love to hear my grandfather's voice again. But it just doesn't work that way.

We can only move forward. Time keeps marching on, and we can never go back. I can only do the best I can, day by day, to be the best person, the best husband, father, stepfather, son, and brother I can be. I can remember and love all the people who are no longer here, but I don't need to dwell on the past. It's much better to live in the present, and celebrate the wonderful things and people I have in my life. As the holidays approach, I will do my best to enjoy each day as it comes, and not get caught up in the whole getting older thing.

Happy Holidays, everyone.

Adios, Mike. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!

2011-10-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

I suppose University of Arizona Wildcat football fans should be grateful to Mike Stoops for lifting the program out of the mess that John Mackovic made and taking the team to three consecutive bowl games. The truth, however, is that the team was competitive in only the first of those games, the Las Vegas Bowl of 2008. The Wildcats never showed up for the Holiday Bowl in 2009, embarassing themselves on national TV 35-0 to Nebraska. Last year, they were 7-1 after the first eight games, promptly lost their next three games to go into the rivalry game with Arizona State with a 7-4 record. The Wildcats scored a last-second touchdown to tie the score with only a few seconds left in that game. Their place-kicking had been abysmal all season, and I just knew as I watched the game from the upper deck that they would miss the extra point. Which they promptly did. Then in overtime, the Cats allowed ASU to score, only to answer with their own touchdown. Once again, they were faced with the conversion. Go for the extra point, and be content with a tie (if they made the kick) or go for two for the win. Coach Mike Stoops opted for the conservative, easy approach, just like he did against the Oregon Ducks in OT the year before. Despite the fact that the kicker had just missed an extra point. And once again, the place-kicker missed, and ASU had an inexplicable, ridiculous victory over the Wildcats at Arizona Stadium in Tucson. I cursed and screamed in my car for two hours as I drove home that night.

The Wildcats still managed to snag a bowl game, the Alamo Bowl against Oklahoma State. They were once again massacred on national TV. For the second year in a row, the Wildcats were completely unprepared for the game and humiliated on the field. That was simply not a coincidence. Chalk it up to bad coaching with the responsibility sitting right at the feet of the head coach, Mike Stoops. In retrospect, after finishing the season with five consecutive losses, Stoops should have been fired right then and there.

After eight seasons at the helm, Mike Stoops should have built a power at the U of A. All the pieces were in place two years ago for a Rose Bowl appearance, or even last year. Instead, the team went backward. Quarterback Nick Foles is one of the best in the nation, and he is sure to be playing in the NFL next year. However, the offensive line has been decimated by injuries and Stoops did a terrible job recruiting new talent. The defense is even worse. And the special teams are simply beyond woeful.

This season, the Wildcats faced three games in a row against top ten teams Oklahoma State, Stanford, and Oregon, followed by the always tough USC. After an anything but easy win against non-BCS team Northern Arizona in the season opener, the Wildcats gave up 37 points to Oklahoma State, 37 points again to Stanford, 56 to Oregon, and then 48 to USC. Needless to say, they lost all four games. When they played winless Oregon State this past Saturday, they were amazingly favored to win, but proceeded to give up (what else) 37 points and lost their fifth in a row. It was the tenth straight loss to BCS teams, going back to last season. And it was the final straw. Stoops was fired as head coach yesterday. To which I say, good riddance.

Mike Stoops was simply an embarrassment to watch. His screaming and yelling on the sidelines, his explosions of anger at referees, and his belittling of his players was excruciating. He gave nothing back to the community and had to be one of the least-liked coaches ever in Tucson. Not that such abysmal behavior was necessarily fatal, if he had been able to produce a consistent winner, the bad behavior would have been overlooked. But a total collapse last year, two straight embarrassments in bowl games, and then ten straight losses to BCS teams (and counting) spelled the end for Stoops. Adios, Mike. Why don't you just run back to your much more successful brother at Oklahoma and go back to being a defensive coordinator? The reality is you were in over your head as a head coach.

So the Arizona Wildcats are right back where they started eight years ago, a program in ruins looking at the prospect of going winless in the conference. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. What is that eternal saying of Arizona Wildcat fans everywhere? Oh yes: when does basketball season start?

The Boss Does it Again

2011-10-01T17:00:00.000-07:00

On Friday morning, I headed to work in a foul mood. It was the last day for me to work in this one particular place and I was not looking forward to it. I bickered with my wife, acted like a jerk, and in general, was not a happy camper. I realize now that the fact it was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, had much to do with it. The "High Holy Days", as they are called, make me think of my Dad, who passed away four years ago. I miss him every day, but some days more than others.

I had a 45 minute drive ahead of me and decided to listen to E Street Radio, one of the Sirius XM stations I love the most (big surprise there, right?). It was the time of the morning when they do "Be the Boss." This segment is done every morning and it gives a different Springsteen fan every day the opportunity to play their favorite Boss songs and talk about them or about Springsteen in general. I did it back in March and loved it.

On Friday morning, the "Be the Boss" guy was from Staten Island. He first became a Springsteen fan in September, 1975, when he was a high school senior. I became a fan three months later while I was a freshman in college and the Boss played at my school, as I have described before on this blog. Right away, I identified with the guy.

The Staten Island guy started his segment off with "Jungleland," one of my all-time favorites, and as I listened to this Springsteen masterpiece which I have probably listened to a thousand times before both on record and live at concerts, I was lifted out of my mood. When he played "Born to Run," I was blown away all over again by what I believe is one of the few perfect rock songs. And finally, he finished off his set by dedicating his last song to the only person he knew who was a bigger Springsteen fan, his wife's brother. The wife's brother was a firefighter who died in Tower One of the World Trade Center on September 11th, and the song he played in his memory was "You're Missing," the heartbreaking song about 9/11 from "The Rising."

Wow, after all that, I was in tears. Sure, I still missed my Dad, but he lived a full and happy life, surrounded by children and grandchildren. My troubles are minor compared to lots of other people. And once more, like so many other times before, the Boss was able to lift me out of myself, and put me back in a better frame of mind. That's the power of great music and a great artist. It's why Springsteen is so important to me, and has been for the last 36 years. It's why I'm still a fan.

Thank you, Bruce, once again, for all you have done for me and continue to do for me.

Can it really be 25 years?

2011-07-17T07:37:00.000-07:00

25 years is a long time. A quarter of a century. Two and a half decades. 25 years ago today, I was still single (although the clock was ticking--I was getting married at the end of August), Ronald Reagan was president, Bruce Springsteen was riding high with "Born in the USA," there was no Internet, no cell phones, no Ipods, none of that stuff that we seem to take for granted these days. I can only speculate how much gas was back then, but it was probably not much more than a dollar a gallon, if that. MTV was big, and other TV channels broadcast music videos on Friday and Saturday nights. People would watch them for hours at a time. I know I did.

I passed the Bar exam that year, and got married, and was Best Man at my brother's wedding in New York. It was a glorious year for many reasons. But the biggest reason may just have been the New York Mets.

The Mets were created in 1962, filling a National League void in New York that was created by the departures of the Dodgers and Giants a few years earlier. I was brought up a Met fan, I can recall going to games when I was just a little kid, rooting for guys like Ron Hunt and Jim Hickman. Then came the glory years, the creation of a great young pitching staff, anchored by future Hall of Famer Tom Seaver and Jerry Koosman, and that wonderful year of 1969 when the Miracle Mets won the World Series. It was great to be a Mets fan, and New York was a Mets town, as hard as that may be to believe today.

Then came the decline. One by one, the beloved stars from the 69 team were either traded, released, or retired. There was one more brief bit of glory, when the 73 team broke out of a very weak NL East, somehow beat the Big Red Machine in the LCS, and went on to the World Series, where they lost to the great Oakland A's dynasty of the early 70's. It was all downhill from there.

By the end of the 70's, the Mets were below mediocre. They sucked in every aspect, pitching, hitting, defense, and most importantly, the front office. New ownership came in the early 80's, and they brought in Frank Cashen to run the front office. He brought a new attitude and a pedigree from the Baltimore Orioles organization. His first task was to re-build the farm teams. It took some time, but talent started to emerge from the minors. Some of these talented youngsters were used to bring in some solid veteran help, others stayed. The turning point came in the off-season of 83-84, when the front office convinced Keith Hernandez, the former MVP and leader of the Cardinals, to stay with the team. They traded for a young starting pitcher named Ron Darling and brought up a youngster from the minors named Dwight Gooden. And they had the 1983 National League Rookie of the Year starting in right field, Darryl Strawberry. Former MVP George Foster was still on the team, and after battling injuries and lethargy in 83, he seemed ready to bounce back with a strong year. Hubie Brooks was a budding star in the infield, and there was fan favorite Mookie Wilson. Things finally looked optimistic for the Mets.

The 1984 Mets were one of the surprise success stories of the National League. They led the division for the first four months of the season, and held on to give the Cubs a run for their money. Too many Cubs had career seasons that year and they were too much for the Mets to overcome, but the Mets finally learned what it was like to win and experienced being in a real pennant race. Dwight Gooden was absolutely phenomenal, pitching far better than his 17-9 record would indicate, and became the second consecutive Met to win the NL Rookie of the Year award. Hernandez finished second to Ryne Sandberg for MVP, and might have had his best all-around season of his career. The front office made a couple of major additons in the off-season, trading five players (including Hubie Brooks) for All-Star catcher Gary Carter and landing former star of the Reds and Astros, Ray Knight. There were big expectations for the 1985 season.

If you look back at that season, it's hard to put together why the Mets didn't win the division. They barely lost out to the St. Louis Cardinals. Whitey Herzog, the Cards manager, was probably worth a couple of wins simply by out-foxing other managers (like Mets manager Davey Johnson), guys like Tommy Herr, Willie McGee, and Jack Clark had career years, and the Mets had some key injuries that limited the effectiveness of Carter, Knight and George Foster. Dwight Gooden put together one of the best years any pitcher has ever had, going 24-4 with an ERA of just over one and a half runs. He was as thoroughly dominant as any pitcher has ever been, and he probably should have won the MVP award, to go with the Cy Young that he did win (the first Met since Seaver to win that award). But it still wasn't enough. Back then there were only two divisions in each league, and no wild card. Once again, the Mets missed out on the postseason.

But in 1986, the Mets were not to be denied. They made a couple of more additions, pitcher Bobby Ojeda from the Red Sox, Howard Johnson from the Tigers, and Kevin Mitchell from their farm system. Lenny Dykstra had been brought up in 85, and now platooned in center field with Mookie Wilson. George Foster eventually lost the left field job to a platoon of Mitchell and Danny Heep. Strawberry anchored right field, Hernandez owned first base and Carter was the starting catcher. Second base was a platoon of Wally Backman and Tim Teufel, shortstop was won by steady Rafael Santana, and third base was supposed to be a platoon of Knight and Johnson. But when the season started and Knight started to hit like Willie Mays reincarnated, he ended up being the every day third baseman.

The pitching staff was unbeatable. Dwight Gooden, the best pitcher in baseball the previous two years, was only the second best on the staff in 86. Ojeda proved to be almost unbeatable. Darling was steady and Rick Aguilera made a solid fifth starter. The best starter in the rotation, though, was young Sid Fernandez. The chubby Hawaiian who had shown glimpses of greatness in 84 and 85 was simply the best starting pitcher in the league the first half of the season. Jesse Orosco and Roger McDowell anchored the bullpen, and the Mets simply took off from the first week of the season. They were unstoppable.

They won big and they won small. They came back in the ninth inning and they dominated from the beginning. At the end of April, they came into Busch Stadium to play the defending champion Cardinals for a four game set. Howard Johnson tied the score in the first game with a three-run homer in the ninth inning and the Mets went on to win that game. They won the next three to sweep the four game set. The Cardinals were shell-shocked, and never recovered. They spiraled down and never did challenge the Mets again. Indeed, no one challenged the Mets in the division. On this date, 25 years ago, the Mets were firmly ensconced in first place with a double digit lead.

On Friday night, July 11th, we were at Shea Stadium to see the Mets play the Atlanta Braves. We were celebrating my brother's bachelor party. The Mets were celebrating their dominance over a mediocre team (yes, the Braves sucked back then, as hard as that may be to believe). Gary Carter hit a three-run homer in the first inning. He came up in the second with the bases loaded and hit a grand slam. Strawberry was the next batter, and when he was plunked by the pitcher, David Palmer, he charged the mound, igniting a brawl on the field. We went nuts watching from the upper deck. The Mets ended up winning the game, and cemented their reputation as a bunch of tough, brawling, arrogant sob's who were not going to take any crap from anyone. They cruised to the NL East crown.

In the LCS, they played the tough Houston Astros. Former Met Mike Scott had become a split-fingered pitching master and won the Cy Young award that year. He was almost as dominant as Gooden had been the year before. Another former Met, the ageless Nolan Ryan, had enjoyed a career renaissance that season with the Astros. The Houston lineup was formidable and they were not afraid of the Mets.

That year's LCS was truly classic. The Mets came back to win a game on a walk-off home run by Lenny Dykstra, Scott was unbeatable for the Astros in winning two games, Gooden and Ryan matched up in a classic 2-1 pitching gem in game five which the Mets won in ten innings, and the teams then played one of the greatest games in the history of baseball in game six. Sixteen innings after it started, with the tying and winning runs on base, Jesse Orosco struck out the last Houston batter after Hernandez had threatened to fight Carter if he called for Orosco to throw another ineffective fastball, and the Mets managed to avoid Mike Scott in game seven, and move on to the World Series.

They faced the Boston Red Sox in the Series, a team loaded with stars like Jim Rice, Wade Boggs, Dwight Evans, Dave Henderson and Bill Buckner, a pitching staff anchored by young ace Roger Clemens and Bruce Hurst, and a fan base starving for a championship. After losing the first two games at home, things did not look good for the Mets. But they rallied to win games 3 and 4 in Boston, before losing game 5. They came home to New York, down three games to two.

Game 6 has now become legend and a part of baseball folklore. Everyone remembers the Bill Buckner play, but what has been forgotten is all the drama leading up to that play. The Red Sox had men on all night long, and Clemens looked unbeatable. They failed to score inning after inning, with Jim Rice being thrown out at the plate by Mookie Wilson in one of those innings. The Mets managed to scratch across a couple of runs, but the Sox were leading by a run entering the bottom of the eighth. The Mets managed to load the bases, but after Howard Johnson struck out with a foul ball on a bunt attempt (??!!) and Gary Carter hitting a sacrifice fly, the team could only score one run and tie the game. Both teams loaded the bases in their half of the ninth, but neither team scored.

The tenth inning began with Rick Aguilera taking the mound for the Mets. He promptly gave up a home run to Dave Henderson. Henderson had sucked the life out of the California Angels in the ALCS when he had homered with two out in the bottom of the 9th of game 5, tying the score and allowing the Sox to win the game and eventually win the Series in seven games, breaking the hearts of Angels fans everywhere. Now, here he was again, hitting a big home run which just might bring the Red Sox their first World Championship in decades. To make matters worse, the Sox scratched out another run and entered the bottom of the 10th, leading 5-3.

Personally, I'll never forget the sequence of events in that half inning. Backman led off by flying out. Hernandez followed with a long fly out to Henderson at the warning track. Carter came up next and singled. Legend has it that he told first base coach Bill Robinson that there was "no way I was going to make the last fucking out in the World Series." Mitchell came up next and singled to left, moving Carter to second. According to legend, he told Robinson the same thing as Carter did. Next up was Ray Knight. He managed to get his bat on the ball on an off-speed pitch away, and hit it into right-center. Carter came all the way around to score and Mitchell was on third. Shea Stadium was going crazy. Again, legend has it that he told Bill Robinson that he, too, was not going to make the last fucking out in the World Series.

Next up was Mookie Wilson. He quickly got two strikes on him, and then began staying alive by fouling off ball after ball. Then a pitch hit the dirt in front of catcher Rich Gedman, and skipped to the backstop. Mookie fell out of the way and frantically signalled for Mitchell to score. Mitchell skipped home, Knight went to second, and Shea Stadium went ballistic. Mookie hit the next pitch to first base, a slow dribbler to Buckner, and we all know what happened next. The ball dribbled into the outfield behind Buckner, Knight raced all the way home, and a legend was born. It was amazing.

After that, game seven was an anti-climax. Oh sure, it was a great game and the Sox had the lead early. But they were done. They knew it, we knew it, and most importantly, the Mets knew it. Knight and Strawberry hit big home runs, Fernandez pitched three crucial dominant innings in relief, and the Mets were World Champions.

Can it really be 25 years since all that happened? That Met team, so loaded with talent, never did win another championship, and only made the postseason one more time. Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry, seemingly headed to Hall of Fame caliber careers, fell to the temptations of drugs and alcohol. They were both eventually traded, did time in prison, and never fulfilled anywhere close to their expectations. Carter and Hernandez started to decline and although they were instrumental in leading the Mets to the postseason in 1988, the championship of 86 was clearly the apex of their careers, and their last hurrah. Kevin Mitchell went on to an MVP season with the Giants, and Dykstra and McDowell enjoyed a championship with the Phillies. As the team was broken up, the Mets once more went into decline. They haven't won a championship since, although there have been some good years. There's also been a lot of heartbreak, and chokes, and it's clear that New York is now a Yankees town. The Mets are an afterthought.

Ah, but it wasn't always like that. 25 years ago, the Mets owned New York. They were the toast of the town, the beast of the National League, and the champions of baseball. It was exciting and thrilling, and will never be forgotten. Hard to beleive it's been a quarter century.

Rest in peace, Big Man

2011-06-19T13:52:00.000-07:00

The Big Man. Clarence Clemons. You either know who he is, or you don't. If you do, it's probably because his music and his contributions to the E Street Band have enriched your life in some way. If you don't, you've missed out.

In the fall of 1975, I was a seventeen year-old freshman at Oswego State University in upstate New York. I had joined the Program Policy Board, a group of students whose job it was to program entertainment at the college. I was on the film committee, but the main buzz that fall came from the concert committee, which had somehow managed to book Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band for a concert in December. Bruce had hit it big that fall, appearing on the covers of both Time and Newsweek in October, which coincided with the release of his seminal album, "Born to Run." By some combination of hard work and good luck, our little college programming board had outbid Syracuse and Rochester to land a show on Springsteen's triumphant tour that fall.

I knew very little about Springsteen back then. I had heard "Born to Run" and "Rosalita" and liked both songs very much, but knew very little about any of his other music. I was turned off by the hype and I just wasn't expecting much. I was asked to work security at the concert that night, and it was my job to stand in front of one of the exit doors at Laker Hall gymnasium.

When the band showed up to do their soundcheck, we were asked to leave the gym. We were ushered into a little hallway and the band walked right past us. I could have reached out and touched Bruce, Clarence and everyone else in the band, but I didn't. In retrospect, I wish I had at least tried to shake Bruce's hand.

The show started with Bruce alone, standing in a spotlight, singing a dynamite song to a piano accompaniement. All these years later, I now know that the song was "Thunder Road", and it was destined to become one of my favorites of all time. Then the lights came, and the entire band joined in on the rollicking and wonderful, "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out." And that was my first introduction to the big, black guy playing that amazing sax.

That night 38 years ago changed my life. The music of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band has been a constant joy in my life. It has enriched the good times and has helped me get through the bad times. I have seen them 12 times over a span of 36 years, and I have grown into middle age with them.

To me, one of the defining sounds of the band is the Big Man's wailing sax solos. "Rosalita" is powered by the sax, as is "Spirit in the Night." Sometimes the solos are mournful, as in "Drive all Night," sometimes they are triumphant, as in "Badlands." Sometimes they give the songs a special rhythm, like "Born to Run." And sometimes the sax solos are so joyous, like the one that starts off "Sherry Darlin'", that they just bring a smile to your face.

The best, of course, is the "Jungleland" solo. There is so much power and emotion in that solo that some rock critics have called it the best three minutes in rock and roll. I don't need that hyperbole, I just know it as my favorite moment in one of my all-time favorite songs, and Clarence's personal triumph. Experiencing the song live, as I have done many times, is to experience a rock and roll celebration. Whether you're watching Bruce look on in awe as his friend powers through the solo, or pumping your fist in time to the music with several thousand other Bruce fanatics, you are experiencing a moment that you will never forget.

Clarence moved on to other things after Bruce broke up the band in the late 80's. He formed his own band, cut a few albums, and worked with other performers. And when Bruce reunited the band for good to do "The Rising" in 2002, Clarence was right there with him. The last two tours (the "Magic" and "Working on a Dream" tours) were undoubtedly difficult for Clarence, as he had endured some serious physical issues. But he was still there, wailing on that sax, and being the legendary Big Man. No matter how tough it seemed to be for him, you could still see the joy on his face as he performed with the band.

The Big Man was 69 years old when he suffered a serious stroke last Sunday. At first it appeared that he would pull through, but the word came out last night that he had passed away. The news has shocked and saddened those of us who loved him. How could someone like Clarence, so larger than life and so wonderfully talented, actually be dead? I still have a hard time believing it.

Rest in peace, Big Man. Your legacy will live on for many years to come. You have enriched my life and the world has been a better place thanks to you and your music. I will miss watching you perform with the Boss, but I will always have the CD's, the DVD's, the albums, the books, and of course, my memories. Thank you for all you have given me.

Random thoughts

2011-04-29T10:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been more than a month now since the end of the NCAA tournament. After two weeks of incredible excitement, the ending was definitely a let-down. Hats off to the Connecticut Huskies for winning it all and going on an incredible roll of winning 11 straight tournament games (5 games in 5 days in the Big East tournament and then 6 wins in the NCAA tournament). They deserved the trophy, they earned it fair and square, but still.....The Arizona Wildcats should have beaten them. After destroying Duke, the only ones who could beat the Wildcats were themselves, and that's exactly what happened. Oh well, shit happens, it was still an amazing season which far surpassed anyone's expectations. Nothing will ever take away the epic wins over Texas and especially Duke and Derrick Williams will go down as one of the all-time great Wildcats in school history. Sean Miller is one of the best college coaches in the nation, and he should receive the Coach of the Year award, but he won't. Still, the future is in his more-than-able hands, and I look forward to next season.

Which is great, because right now, I feel like a man without a sport. I've been a baseball fan my entire life, a Met fan the entire time, with the Arizona Diamondbacks being my second team for the last 15 or so years. I find myself, however, completely uninterested in baseball these days. Whether it's the mediocrity of the Mets and D'backs, the endless steroid scandal leading to things like the disgraceful and pitiful retirement of Manny Ramirez, or the complete dislike I have for teams like the Yankees and Phillies, the conclusion is inescapable. Last year, the San Francisco Giants beat the Texas Rangers in what had to be one of the most unlikely World Series of the past 20 years, and yet, I just didn't care. Not one iota. Can it possibly be true that my lifelong love of the "national pastime" is ending? I think of all the enjoyment and happiness baseball has given me over the years, culminating in the magical years of 1969 and 1986 for the Mets and 2001 for the Diamondbacks, and it saddens me to think that I just no longer care. What am I supposed to do with my limited free time, spend it with my family? Are you kidding me, or what?

I suppose I could get more interested in politics, but I'm as ambivalent about that as I am about baseball. I admit to being disappointed with Obama, I took him at his word about being about change, and other than his Supreme Court nominees (admittedly a pretty important issue in my mind), I haven't seen a whole lot of change. The economy still sucks, although it does seem to be getting a letter better, at least here in Arizona. The mood of the nation is angry and discordant, and the ridiculous amount of time devoted to such non-issues as whether or not he was born in the U.S. is pretty sickening. There is no way I will ever be convinced that racism is not behind the whole thing. And, of course, the Democratic party, which has become completely ineffective, has done nothing to support their President. I'm seriously considering leaving the party and becoming a total independent. Not that I would ever consider joining the Conservative wackos of the Republican party or Tea Party, but the current leadership of the Democrats disgusts me. In retrospect, Bill Clinton looks better and better.

I can't even get any satisfaction from my poker playing. For two years now, I have owned my own business and for the last six months, I have worked probably an average of 60-70 hours a week. It's taken a toll on my poker playing time. I haven't had time to play anywhere near as much poker as I had wanted to, and despite what I may have written on this blog after my performance at the Grand Poker Series last summer, I will not be going to the WSOP again or playing in the Grand Poker Series this year. In fact, I hardly play at all these days, and when I do, the bad beats are horrific. Last Saturday, after working for nine and a half hours in my office, I went to a local casino to play in a tournament. I lost a big chunk of my stack when my pocket jacks were beaten by A-J when the dude spiked an ace on the turn. Then, a couple of hands later, I went all in against this same dude. This time, he had pocket jacks and I had pocket queens. That's a winner, right? Not when another jack comes out on the board, which is what happened, and yours truly got knocked out with his tail between his legs. Brutal.

What can I say? It all comes under the title of that little thing called life. Yeah, sports may suck right now and my poker playing has come under a massive unlucky streak. Sure, I work way too hard and I suffer from serious burn-out. And yes, I am disgusted with the political situation in our country. But I have a loving, beautiful wife, a terrific home, and I am my own boss (sort of). We can even afford to take a second honeymoon in a couple of months. I may have bitched and moaned throughout this entire blog post, but I'm a lucky man and life is good. Have a great summer, everybody.

The Cats are Back

2011-03-25T07:14:00.000-07:00

Like most long-time fans of the University of Arizona basketball team, I thought they had a chance to beat Duke last night. Maybe not a great chance, and it was far more likely that Duke would win (I had Duke winning it all on my bracket), but there was a chance. But I never once thought the Cats would do what they did in the second half last night.

I lived in Tucson from 1982 to 2007. There are no major league teams in Tucson, and the only really big-time sports in town is the U of A. Lute Olson came to Tucson a year after I did and built a collegiate basketball national power. A national championship in 1997, three other final four appearances, and twenty-five straight years of making the NCAA tournament spoiled the fans. We expected greatness every season and refused to accept anything less.

Lute's exit from the head coaching position was messy and protracted. Blue chip recruits reneged on their commitments and other talent transferred. The school hired Sean Miller from Xavier to take over the program. Miller seemed to be a good coach and had done a fine job at Xavier, but I had my doubts. Last year, the team struggled. They finished 16-15 and for the first time in a quarter century, the Wildcats did not make the NCAA tournament, or even the NIT. It was a dubious beginning for the new regime.

This year was supposed to be a rebuilding year. The only star from the team last year was Derrick Williams, now a sophomore. The rest of the team was a bunch of guys that no one knew about. The team seemed unfocused and lost in the early part of the season, but they started to jell in January. Williams was outstanding, and the supporting cast started to learn their roles. They began to exhibit a toughness and determination that they all said came from their coach. The turning point was in early February, when the team won a triple overtime game at Cal which vaulted them into first place in the Conference.

A couple of weeks later, they came to Tempe, AZ to play their arch-rivals the ASU Sun Devils, who had been awful all season. I went to that game and saw a first-place Wildcat team that looked terrible. Williams was off his game and the entire team played without much fire. They won by 15. I thought to myself if they can play so badly and still win by that much of a margin, then this just might be a special team.

The Wildcats got manhandled in LA on the next to last weekend of the regular season and lost to both USC and UCLA. But they won their final two games at home and won the Pac 10 Conference regular season. They lost the championship game of the Conference tournament to Washington on a last-second shot, but looked forward to a return to the Big Dance.

Their first game in the tournament was against Memphis, coached by former Wildcat player and assistant coach, Josh Pastner. Pastner has put together a great, young team of quick, talented players at Memphis. They gave Arizona all they had, and the Wildcats were lucky to come out of it with a two-point win.

Next up was Texas, which had actually been ranked number one in the nation at one point early in the year. They were big, tough, and talented. No one, including yours truly, gave Arizona much of a chance to win. And, indeed, despite running out to a double digit first half lead, the Wildcats gave it all back in the second half. Texas had a two point lead and the ball with 14 seconds left. It looked like the Wildcat season was about to end. But some tenacious Wildcat defense prevented Texas from inbounding the ball and the Longhorns turned the ball over. Somehow, Williams was able to penetrate through the Texas defense, made an unbelieveable behind-the-back shot which went through the hoop, and was fouled on the play. To that point, Williams had missed free throws all night. But he sunk that last one, and the Cats held on to their one point lead, and won the game. An improbable trip to the Sweet 16 had now come true.

But be careful what you wish for. The gift for making it to the Sweet 16 was a game against the defending national champions, the mighty Duke Blue Devils, and their future Hall of Fame coach, Mike Kzryzewski. No one, except Charles Barkley, gave them a chance.

Duke looked awesome in the first half. They pretty much did anything they wanted. The Wildcats, on the other hand, were a one man team. Derrick Williams was unbelieveable, making four three-pointers, grabbing rebounds, and slamming one of them back home with a tomahawk slam which will be talked about for years. Williams scored 25 points in the first half, but the rest of the team scored only 13, and the Cats were down by 6 at halftime.

Then came the second half, which will go down in school history as the best half of basketball every played by a Wildcat team. It started with point guard MoMo Jones suddenly penetrating and scoring. Before you could take in what was happening, every player in a Wildcat uniform seemed to be grabbing rebounds, pushing the ball up the floor on a fast break, swishing in a three-pointer, or slamming a basket. Duke didn't know what hit them. The Wildcats went on a 19-2 run and never looked back. They outscored Duke 55-33 in the half, out-rebounded them 25-9, and totally dismantled them. The Blue Devils looked like they had been gutshot. They lost the game by 16 points after leading by 6 at halftime. It was unbelieveable. I'm still in shock.

In 1997, the Wildcats won their only National Championship. In the Sweet 16 that year, they played No. 1 seed, Kansas, which had been ranked number one in the country for most of the year. The Wildcats upset the Jayhawks in a tough, close game and went on to win the national championship, beating two other No. 1 seeds, North Carolina in the semi-final and Kentucky in the final. It was magical and wonderful.

I haven't felt that way about any other Wildcat team since then. Until last night. Last night's win will go down as one of the top three in school history, right there with the wins over Kansas and Kentucky in '97. Sean Miller has proven to be an outstanding coach, and a worthy successor to Lute Olson. His team is made up of one superstar and a bunch of over-achieving, hard-working young men who wear their hearts on their sleeves and play like a team, without any semblance of ego or selfishness. They are a joy to watch.

I love this year's Wildcat team. Even if they lose in the next round, they will go down in school history as one of the best ever. They have taken what was supposed to be a rebuilding year, and moved on to one game shy of the final four with a signature win that will live for the ages. I am more proud of this Arizona team than any other. Bear down, Arizona. Beat those Huskies from Connecticut on Saturday.

Academy Award special

2011-02-22T10:09:00.000-08:00

The Academy Awards are just around the corner, and I wouldn't be a dedicated film buff and would-be reviewer if I didn't take this opportunity to put my two cents in. I haven't seen anywhere close to all the nominees, but I've seen enough to have an opinion. In a later blog post, I will be discussing a few of what I consider to be the worst Academy Award winners in Academy history. But first, my predictions and preferences:

Best Picture
The consensus seems to be that "The King's Speech" has this award locked up. My guess is that it will win, but my pick would be "Inception." My justification is the same argument I would have given last year, when I thought "Avatar" should have beaten out "The Hurt Locker." Both "Inception" and "Avatar" blew me away, they seemed fresh, exciting, and new. They were visually rich and made to be experienced on a big screen. They seemed to carve out new territory. "The King's Speech" is an excellent movie, and I will have no problem if it wins. I just don't think it's as exciting and overwhelming as "Inception."

Best Actor
Colin Firth will probably win for "The King's Speech" and I will have no argument with that. His performance was understated, subtle and magnificent. He may get beaten out by Jeff Bridges for his somewhat less-than-subtle, but equally impressive performance in "True Grit." But Bridges did win last year, and Firth's role as King George VI was much more difficult than playing Rooster Cogburn. It's not that Bridges' performance doesn't deserve an Academy Award, it's just that Firth's was better. I haven't seen the other performances other than Jesse Eisenberg for "The Social Network," and while he was very good, the other two were much better.

Best Actress
The only performance I've seen in this category is Annette Benning for "The Kids are All Right," and while the movie underwhelmed me, Benning was amazing. I have no problem with her winning the award, and only wish the Academy had had the good sense to nominate Julianne Moore for the same film, since she was equally as good. I think this award will go to Benning.

Best Supporting Actor
This is traditionally a strong category and this year seems to be no exception. I haven't seen "The Fighter", but I hear Christian Bale is excellent in that. Geoffrey Rush was fantastic in "The King's Speech" in a very difficult role and I think he will bring home the statue, although Bale could certainly win. Mark Ruffalo will have to be satisfied with his nomination, especially since so many worthy actors were overlooked (can you say "Social Network?").

Best Supporting Actress
It seems like the two favorites are the only two performances I've seen in this category. Hailee Steinfeld was simply wonderful in "True Grit," but she has clearly been nominated in the wrong category. She was the main character and had more screen time than anyone else and she should be up for Best Actress. Helena Bonham Carter was equally marvelous in "The King's Speech." Every look, every gesture was absolutely perfect in the part of the wife of King George VI. She never once upstaged Firth or Rush, yet she was unforgettable. My vote would go to her.

Best Director
How in the world is Christopher Nolan not nominated for "Inception?" He did an unbelieveable job with a difficult, challenging film. His film was a joy to watch and it was overwhelming and absorbing. His ommission is a crime. If I had a vote, I would probably boycott this category in protest. My prediction is Tom Hooper for "King's Speech," but of those nominated, I would like to see David Fincher for "The Social Network." And then I would like to see Fincher get up there and give his award to Christopher Nolan, who has been burned now for "Inception," "The Dark Knight," and "Memento". Shameful. He's the new Martin Scorcese.

Best Screenplay
As you know, there are two different awards for this, and I predict that "The Social Network" and "The King's Speech" will go home winners. Both scripts were witty, intelligent, and very entertaining.

And that's where I stop. I don't care who wins Best Song or Best Documentary or any of the others. I've made my predictions and I'm sticking to them. We'll see what happens Sunday night.

Another Jet crash and burn

2011-01-26T09:50:00.000-08:00

Being a Jet fan is like that famous quote from Godfather 3: "Just when I think I am out, they pull me right back in!" That describes it in a nutshell. Just when I think the Jets can't disappoint me anymore, they find yet a new way to do it all over again.

This year was supposed to be different. A year removed from last year's giddy and improbable run to the AFC Conference championship game, they were now supposed to be one year better and more experienced. Mark Sanchez was now a second year quarterback, the team added standout wide receiver Santonio Holmes, to go along with Braylen Edwards and Jericho Cotchery, not to mention a re-invigorated Ladanian Tomlinson, and the defense was supposedly as tough as ever.

The team did great for the first three months of the season, then backslid over the last five games, which included a blow-out loss to the Patriots and an inexplicable loss to the Dolphins. The Patriots won the division going away, but the Jets made into the playoffs as a wild card. That earned them a road game against Peyton Manning and the Colts. The Jets came through with an epic win on the road, Sanchez leading them down the field in the final minute of play for a last second winning field goal. It looked like this might indeed be a different Jets team with a different destiny.

Things only got better the following weekend at New England. The Jets were decided underdogs, but ended up handing it to the Patriots big time. Tom Brady was knocked around, hurried, and sacked all day long, and the Jets came out with one of their most inspiring playoff victories in their history. Up next was a rematch with the Steelers (the Jets had beaten them in Pittsburgh five weeks before) with the winner going to the Super Bowl.

All week long, the Jets were their normal, confident, brazen selves. They had triumphed over Manning and Brady on the road in consecutive weeks, and they were not afraid of Ben Roethlisberger. It was hard for me, as a lifelong Jets fan, not to get excited and anticipate what would be only the second Jet appearance in a Super Bowl.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the Super Bowl. The Jets forgot to show up in the first half of the Conference championship game. The defense couldn't stop anything on the first Pittsburgh drive of the game, which lasted 15 plays and ten minutes, resulting in a touchdown. On the next Pittsburgh drive, Big Ben tossed a 50-yard bomb, which Jet cornerback extraordinaire Darrelle Revis jumped in the air for and had in his arms for an interception. Except, the ball bounced off his hands, off his chest, and onto the ground. The Steelers then marched downfield for their second touchdown. Later in the first half, the defense finally stopped the Steelers, who were forced to punt. Oops! One of the Jets rushed in trying to block the punt, got no part of the football, but ran into the punter, giving the ball back to the Steelers. And let's not forget the brilliant fumble by Sanchez and run back for touchdown late in the half by Pittsburgh. If not for a last second field goal, the Jets would have been shut out in the half.

The Jets did manage to show up for the second half, and made a stirring attempt to come back. It might have even been successful if not for a ridiculous 8-minute drive which culminated with a first and goal from the 2, and the Jets foolishly calling two terrible pass plays, and ultimately failing to score. That really was the game right there. Final score, Steelers 24, Jets 19. The fourth consecutive time the Jets have lost a Conference Championship game, with only one win in their history.

Frankly, I don't want to hear that I should be proud of the team, they came so far, they got to the AFC Conference championship game two years in a row, blah, blah, blah. The unmistakeable truth is they should have beaten Pittsburgh and won that damn game, but for whatever reason they just did not show up in the first half. The offensive play-calling was terrible, and there were way too many stupid plays and foolish penalties. They beat themselves, yet again, and disappointed their long-time fans. Yet again.

I really like this team. Sanchez, Revis, Holmes, Edwards, D'Brickeshaw Ferguson, Calvin Pace. There are some truly talented football players on this team. And they love Rex Ryan and are very loyal to him. And I have to admit that I love Ryan's confidence and bluster. No Jet coach has ever taken the team this far in back-to-back seasons. It's really inexplicable why they performed so poorly last Sunday. Oh, wait a minute, there is an explanation. It's on the front of their uniforms. It's spelled J-E-T-S.

The Politics of Hate

2011-01-09T16:33:00.000-08:00

Like most of the nation, I am still stunned a day after the horrific shooting in Tucson of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and 18 other people. Six of those people died, including Federal Court Judge John Roll and the 9 year-old granddaughter of former Major League Baseball manager Dallas Green.

The truth is, I'm probably a little more stunned than most people. Tucson was my home for 25 years, from the day after I graduated from Law School in 1982 to the day I moved to Phoenix in 2007. It is still home to my mother, my brother, my sister, and my daughter and her mother. I passed the Bar exam there and began a legal career that is still going strong. I married my first wife there and had a beautiful daughter, and married my second wife there and helped to raise my two stepchildren. I met Ms. Giffords once, back when she was campaigning in what would be her first election to the U.S. House of Representatives. And I appeared in front of Judge Roll many times in Federal District Court in Tucson. I've been to that shopping center many, many times. These things are not supposed to happen in a place that you call, or have called, home.

The first reaction was one of total numbness and disbelief. That's always the case with senseless tragedies like this, but especially so when you know the place or the people whose lives have been taken for the ridiculous reason of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Judge Roll was a good man and a good judge. We weren't what you would call friends, but I appeared in his courtroom many times over the years, and I respected and admired him. The shopping center where the Safeway is located has a Chinese restaurant that I have gone to many times over the years. I don't know that I can ever bring myself to go there again.

The numbness and disbelief passes and what is left is shock and anger. Anger that some lone lunatic, obviously disturbed and deranged, is allowed to possess firearms and stalk an honorable public servant. Anger that the political discourse in this country, and especially this state, has grown so vitriolic and divisive that threats and violence are real dangers. And absolute fury that Sarah Palin can create a website that depicted certain Congressional districts on a map with crosshairs. Gabrielle Giffords was one of those members of Congress depicted by Palin as in the crosshairs of her movement. And how totally ironic and infuriating that Giffords herself pointed out the danger of being treated in such a manner. As far as I'm concerned, Sarah Palin, the Tea Party candidate who ran against Giffords, and the entire bigoted, racist, anti-Semitic movement has blood on their hands.

How did we get to this point? The political debate in this country has always been seriously divided among ideological grounds, but I don't remember it ever being this angry and divisive. There's nothing wrong with targeting certain Congressional races for a political party or movement to concentrate on, but to depict them with the crosshairs of a telescopic rifle? Not to mention the Tea Party candidate campaigning with a loaded rifle, aiming it symbolically at the incumbent. Don't these people realize that there are dangerously disturbed individuals out there who will believe that those messages are subliminal instructions to commit murder in the name of political zeal? How in God's name do these people justify their hatred and vitriol? How does Sarah Palin live with herself? Or is she such an ego-centric psychopath that she just doesn't care?

Palin actually had the nerve to state her condolences to the victims, and of course, deny that her actions had anything to do with the demented gunman in Tucson. The campaign manager of the Tea Party candidate who opposed Giffords (I refuse to use his name---my own personal decision to not humanize the cowardly s.o.b.!!) has said that there is no connection between the candidate and the nutjob gunman. They deny any responsibility whatsoever, the cowards. They make me sick.

Also dead in Tucson yesterday was Christina Taylor Green, a nine year-old girl who ironically was born on September 11, 2001, another day forever linked to senseless insanity and the horrific deaths of innocents. She was recently elected to her student council and wanted to meet her Congresswoman. And, not that it matters, but she had a famous grandfather who made a name as a Major League Baseball manager back in the 80's and 90's. She was apparently smart, loquacious, and a talented athlete. And now she is gone forever.

I mourn for my country, and my state, and the city where I lived for a quarter of a century. I don't understand why this has happened, how it can continue to happen time and time again. What is wrong with us that we have allowed our society to become like this? When will it ever stop?

The Desert Island---Part 3

2010-06-13T17:53:00.000-07:00

I don't know about anyone else, but there is no way I could survive on a desert island with only CD's and DVD's to keep me company. I would have to have my favorite books along with me. So, in keeping with the theme of these posts, there are a few ground rules. I can only bring 10 books with me, and I can only bring one book per author, although if one of the authors has co-written a book with another author, then that is OK. And I'm not limiting myself to just fiction, any book which I absolutely must have with me and is one of my all-time favorites is eligible.

So, how do I pick my top ten? I'm certainly not going to pick the great classics that all the English profs love that I wouldn't pick up and read again if my life depended on it (sorry, WCK). So, you're not going to find any Dickens, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Orwell, or really any of the truly great authors represented on my list. What you'll find are the ten books that have affected me most, that I can read over and over again, that have influenced me in some fashion, or simply given me the most joy. Many are books I read when I was younger, even when I was a kid. One of these books helped influence me in my career path. And another remains my favorite book since the first time I read it. So, without further ado, here are my top 10 books, in no particular order.

1. "The Stand" by Stephen King
It should come as no shock whatsoever to anyone who knows me what my first choice would be. I have stated on this blog before that I am one of Stephen King's "constant readers", having read every one of his books and being a lifetime fan. "The Stand" came pretty early in King's career, and despite some game efforts, he has never equalled it in terms of scope and power. It is an epic in every way possible, and it tells a story that captivates almost from the first page. It presents vivid characters in compelling situations, and it starts off by killing off almost the entire population of the planet. But if there's one thing that "The Stand" does as well, if not better, than any other work of fiction, is present a fascinating and complex villain. In fact, it gives us not one, but three villains, marvelously drawn and endlessly interesting. There is Lloyd Henreid, the two-bit loser who rises up from the plague known as Captain Trips to become a powerful force in Las Vegas. There's the Trashcan Man, one of the most compelling and complicated characters in all of King's fiction. And then there is Randall Flagg, the Dark Man, the personification of evil who becomes one of the two dominating forces in the post-plague world. It's a classic tale of good versus evil, with all the usual wonderful King touches. At over a thousand pages, it is endlessly readable and never ceases to amaze. It's my all-time favorite.

2. "The Talisman" by Stephen King and Richard Straub
This is the kind of book that non-Stephen King fans love. It is not scary in any way, shape, or form, but more like an epic quest, sort of similar to "Lord of the Rings", without the complexity. Straub played the perfect foil for King and they created a wonderful tale of two parallel worlds, whose very survival depends on the success of twelve year-old Travelling Jack, and his pal, Rational Richard. They "flip" between both worlds as they fight bad guys and monsters in their quest to get the Talisman, and bring it back to save Jack's mother and the Queen of the Territories. A rich and compelling tale of heroism and sacrifice, this is a tremendous book which demands multiple readings to get the full essence of its greatness. Straub has never been better and the combination of he and King was pure magic, something they fell far short of in the sequel.

3. "Exodus" by Leon Uris
I've read most of Uris's books, but nothing has affected me quite like "Exodus." Maybe it has something to do with being Jewish, or maybe not. Uris does an incredible job of telling the story of the Jewish emigration to Palestine, the rise of the Jewish state, and the experience of these people in World War II, as they tried to survive the Holocaust. It's a powerful, touching, heartfelt story, and if it seems quaint in light of today's politics, it remains a wonderfully compelling read.

4. "The Godfather" by Mario Puzo
This choice pretty sums up what I was talking about in my introduction, I am less interested in bringing classic novels with me to my island than I am in bringing entertaining and enjoyable fiction. Many people deride this novel by stating that the movie was better, and if that is what they truly believe, they need to read the book again. The epic story of Don Vito Coreleone and his family remains an exciting, dramatic, and fascinating tale. The Godfather is fleshed out much more in the book than he was in the movie, and supporting characters such as Lucy Mancini and Johnny Fontaine are given far more time and become that much more interesting. A true American classic of history, intrigue, crime, and family values, during the tumultuous early half of the 20th century, "The Godfather" presents the classic tale of immigrants and how they made do and survived in their new country to become powerful and dangerous, without losing their character and culture. Well, at least some of them didn't.

5. "The World according to Garp" by John Irving
Has there ever been a book or main character quite like Garp? Or a supporting character such as Garp's mother, Jenny Fields? And how many books prior to this one presented a critical supporting character that was a transexual former pro football player with romance problems, a la Roberta Muldoon? Irving struck gold with this novel of vivid characters, fascinating situations, and topical issues. He successfully balanced joy and humor, with tragedy and pathos. And he does so in a readable and entertaining manner that he has never been able to attain since. No matter, Garp is his masterpiece and will make Irving memorable forever.

6. "Helter Skelter" by Vincent Bugliosi
I don't think I've ever read anything more fascinating than Bugliosi's story of the Manson family, the horrific murders they committed at the behest of their leader, Charles Manson, and the resulting trial in Los Angeles, which was prosecuted by Bugliosi. Unless you've hidden under a rock, you know the story, but it's hard to deny the fascination of reading about how it all went down, and was subsequently pieced together by Bugliosi. This was the book which influenced my career path, and I have not looked back since.

7. "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton
It's a shame that Bouton became such a pariah for writng this expose of baseball during the 1969 season. It seems almost tame by today's standards and the knowledge we now have of ballplayers. But back then, it was scandalous. Bouton was excoriated by the baseball establishment and he is still shunned by most retired ballplayers. But every kid in America back then, including the author of this blog, owned the book, and read it endlessly. I know some guys who bragged that it was the only book they ever read as a kid. And I know others who claimed that they only read it late at night, with a flashlight in their beds, long after their parents went to sleep. Quite simply, it's the best book ever written about baseball, maybe about all sports, and it is an absolute gem. Bouton should be enshrined in the Hall of Fame. Right, like that will ever happen!

8. "Seven Days in May" by Fletcher Knebel
I'm not sure why this book hit me as hard as it did when I first read it as a kid, but it did and still does. The story is compelling, the characters are rich, and the dialogue is first-rate. A wonderful Cold War thriller with a roller-coaster plot and a satisfying climax.

9. "Ragtime" by E.L. Doctorow
A great novel which combines real and fictional characters in a time that now seems almost ancient, "Ragtime" manages the difficult task of being entertaining, outrageous, and topical. The issue of racism has never been presented quite like this before, and the book manages to enthrall and enlighten at the same time.

10. "Catch-22" by Joseph Heller
An all-time classic, which manages to be funny, shocking, horrifying, ridiculous, touching, and mysterious. With a timeline which makes no sense, and a story that goes back and forth in time at a dizzying pace, Heller tells the story of Yossarian, the World War II pilot who wants nothing more than to complete his required missions and get the hell back to the states. Perhaps the best book about war ever written.

So, there it is, my top 10 list of books I need to have on my desert island. Good Heavens, in writing out my list, I've remembered a whole bunch of others that I should have, could have, included. Books like Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five" and Wolfe's "The Bonfire of the Vanities" should be on my list somewhere. Maybe I'll change the rules and take more than ten with me to the island.

The Grand Poker Series at the Golden Nugget

2010-06-08T15:21:00.000-07:00

It was four years ago that I played in an early event at the World Series of Poker. I don't think a day has gone by that I haven't thought about it. Looking back, I know now that I wasn't ready. I really didn't have much of a clue. In retrospect, it's not surprising that I got knocked out fifteen minutes into the tournament.

Since then, I've been to a poker boot camp and learned from pros like T.J. Cloutier and Vanessa Ruosso how to play a no-limit tournament. I've played dozens, no, make that hundreds, of no-limit hold em tournaments in casinos, online, and at private homes. I've won a couple outright, chopped a victory a number of times with other players, finished at numerous final tables, and got knocked out in every which way possible. I now have a clue, and a strategy, and a game plan. I have confidence, and I always expect to do well, so that when I don't, I am disappointed.

The original game plan was to go back to the World Series this year, and play in an early event for a thousand dollar buy-in. Then, I recieved an offer from the Golden Nugget hotel to stay at an extremely discounted rate and participate in their Grand Poker Series of tournaments. Apparently, several Vegas casinos these days, including the Nugget, put on major tournament series to compete with the World Series. The buy-ins are much less than the World Series, but the competition was supposed to be stiff and the tournaments had the reputation of being extremely challenging. So, I opted to do that instead, and see how things went, as a sort of test for whether I'm ready for the World Series.

On Saturday, I played in a $135 dollar buy-in tournament. There were 372 players in the tournament, and we were in a huge room at the Nugget. Other than the WSOP four years ago, it was the biggest tournament I ever played in. The legendary poker brat, Phil Hellmuth, was there for the start and kicked it off. We started at noon with a chip stack of 12, 000 chips.

The first four hours were absolutlely brutal. Other than A-K one time, I never got a premium hand, not in the whole four hours. And when I did hit with a hand, Lady Luck kicked me in the ass. Here's an example of what I'm talking about. We were probably about an hour or so into the tournament. The player on my left was very aggressive, but not very smart. He was one of the few mediocre players I saw all day. Anyway, he had foolishly lost more than half his chips, and he was scuffling with about 4,000 or so chips left. I was in early position, and I looked at 10-J suited in spades, normally not a hand you want to play in early position. But I had barely played a hand all tournament to that point, so I put in a raise of three times the big blind, which Mr. Aggressive promptly called. The blinds also called my raise, so it was just the four of us. The flop came A-K-Q, rainbow, which means all different suits. I had flopped top straight, and I held in my emotions as I checked to Mr. Aggressive. He took the bait, and went all in. The two blinds folded, and I called. He had A-10, and almost cried when he saw that I had already made my straight. He got up to leave, and then on the river, a Jack fell, giving him a straight as well, making us chop the pot, and giving this jerk new life. And that's the way things went for the first four hours. Most of the time, I had nothing but crap, and had to fold. I won two other times when I had to chop the pot with someone, and I was watching my stack dwindle.

I made it to the second break and called my wife, telling her that I would probably be out soon. It was disgusting, crappy cards and crappy luck. I had managed to stay disciplined and patient, I refused to gamble with garbage hands, and the few bluffs I made were done when I was in position and there had been no raises in front of me. Even one of those backfired, when two 9's came on the flop and one of the other players at the table called my continuation bet after the flop. I checked the turn, and when he fired out with a bet that would have put me all in, I folded. Other than that, I remained disciplined and patient, but my stack was dwindling, the blinds were going up and it was only a matter of time.

About five hours into the tournament, I looked at my hand to see pocket aces for the first time. The big blind was 1,000 at that time, and the guy to the right of me raised to 4,000. My stack was only about 8,000, so I shoved all-in. Everyone else folded, and he called. With the blinds, antes, and our bets, there was about 21,000 chips in the pot. He showed pocket queens, I had the aces, and there was no miracle queen on the board for him, so my aces held up and for the first time that day, I won a big pot.

About a half hour later, I was the big blind, which was now 1,500. A guy three seats to the left of me raised to 4,500, and the guy next to him made it 10,000. Everyone folded around to me, and then I looked at my hand (when I am in the big blind, I don't look at my cards until it is my turn to act). I looked down at pocket aces one more time. In the big blind, of all things. I thought about how I wanted to play it, and knew that at least one of these guys, if not both, would have to be aggressive and probably call a re-raise if I made one. I wanted to make it as expensive as possible for them to call, so that if they sucked out on me (ended up with a better or winning hand with the cards on the board), they would have to pay to do so. I pushed all in with a stack of about 20,000 chips.

The first guy thought long and hard, for him to call meant throwing all his chips in, since I had him covered. He ended up folding after thinking about it for quite some time. The other guy called. There was just under 50,000 chips in the pot. I turned over pocket aces, and he turned over KQ suited. The board was an absolute blank for him, and I scooped in a huge pot, and crippled the guy, who up to that time had shown that he was a good, solid player.

The dinner break came after hour number six, and I was overjoyed to have made it that far, considering the horrible cards and horrible luck I had in the first four hours. Not to mention, the level of competition. Other than a couple of donkeys, the vast majority of poker players in this tournament were very good players, solid and somewhat intimidating. And I was holding my own with them.

The tournament continued, and I continued to play solid and disciplined. I never was able to get on the kind of run that would give me a huge, commanding stack, but I picked my spots, played aggressively when I had a good hand, or was in position, and continued to hold my own. I never got much below 35,000 chips and never quite got up to 50,000, but I continued to hold on, as hour after hour passed, and players kept getting knocked out, three of which were courtesy of yours truly.

The bubble position was 37, which meant the person who got knocked out in 37th position would be the last player to win nothing. Everyone after that would be in the money. When we got to 37 players left (including me, incredibly), they asked if we would agree to take $200 off the winner's share, and give that to the bubble. We all agreed, and so, just like that, we were all in the money. It was after midnight, and we had been at this thing for twelve hours.

I don't remember a whole lot of the next 45 minutes or so. I folded the crap I got, and went all in when I had a hand. I was no match for the monster stacks of some of the other players, and I was just trying to hold on. Several players who had been knocked out earlier in the day or night came back into the room, some of them had been at my table. They looked at me and remarked about how impressed they were that I was still there, I had been short-stacked pretty much all day and night. Obviously, it takes superb playing to last as long as I did without getting a string of great cards. I was exhausted, but still focused and determined.

At 12:55 a.m., there were 31 of us left. I looked down at A-Q suited, and went all in. Everyone folded, and I finally scooped a pot that put me over the 50,000 chip plateau. I remarked to one of the other guys at the table that it was the first time all day I had reached that milestone. The very next hand, I looked down at pocket 8's, so I figured I would be good to do it again, and increase my stack. I went all in, and then was surprised to be called by one of the monster stacks at the table, who had about 7 or 8 times as many chips as I did. When he turned over pocket aces, I could feel my heart break. And then I watched the board, waiting and praying for the miracle 8, which would allow me to continue to play. But it never came. And I was done. 13 hours and only God knew how many hundreds of hands later, I was knocked out in 31st place. That's 31st out of 372. I shook hands with several players as I got up to leave. There's a comaraderie that builds up in a poker tournament, and when you get that far in a major tournament, you win the respect of all the other players at your table. Luck can only get you so far, you need skill and solid play to get as far as I did. Especially considering the field, which was dominated by solid, excellent poker players.

I got my winnings, and headed up to my room, where my poor wife was waiting in bed, having spent 13 hours by herself in Vegas while I played in this tournament. I was exhausted, mentally drained, but absolutley exhilarated. I had made it into the money, finished 31st out of a field of 372, stayed focused and disciplined for 13 hours. I felt triumphant.

The Grand Poker Series tournament was a major test for my poker playing, and I came through with flying colors. All things considered, it was my best performance in any poker tournament, and as I write this three days later, I am proud as hell. I feel like I've turned a corner, and I will be ready for the World Series of Poker next year. I can't wait.

The final episodes of "24" and "Lost", or What in the world am I going to do on Monday and Tuesday nights from now on?

2010-06-03T08:34:00.000-07:00

Two of my favorite TV shows wrapped up last week, "24" and "Lost." I came to both shows late, became entranced with them, caught up by renting the DVD's and then followed them to their finales. I believe that they are two of the best TV shows ever produced, and they will be missed, at least by me.

"24" was my once a week vacation from the realities of my life. It gave me a larger than life hero, exciting stories, complicated characters, and intensity from start to finish. More than that, though, "24" provided a unique premise, with each episode comprising one hour in a continuous day told in real time. I believe it's the premise more than anything which made the show work.

This season's story was great for the first few episodes and then sort of lost its way. What was missing was a dynamic villain, always a key element in "24." Finally, they brought back disgraced deposed former President Charles Logan, one of the all-time great TV villains, and the show rocked from that point on. The finale was exciting, suspenseful and touching. The final tender moment between Jack and Chloe was heart-breaking, and very well acted. It was a wonderful, albeit surprising, ending since practically everyone was expecting Jack to die. It left open the possibility of more seasons (which won't happen) or a "24" movie (which I hope to hell won't happen). And it showed once again how crucial the performance of Kiefer Sutherland has been to the success of the show. Before "24", Kiefer was a moderately successful young actor, probably best known for being the son of Donald Sutherland, and for playing the teenage punk/bad guy in "Stand by Me." "24" has provided him opportunities to grow and transform as an actor, and he has not disappointed. Kiefer has become a star, and it will be interesting to see where he goes from here.

"Lost" was a very different piece of escapism for me. A show that was often maddening in its endless mysteries and plot twists, the creators have spent this season answering all the questions. And while not everything has made perfect sense, the final episode did bring some finality.

In keeping with the show's history, the final episode was open to several different interpretations, including the very wrong "they all died in the plane crash and the entire show was just a dying dream of Jack's" (I always thought it interesting that the central character of both shows was named Jack and were actually very similar). Anyone who believes that interpretation wasn't paying attention. So here's my interpretation:

The island was a real place, complete with a special magnetic force and other mystical, special qualities. Jacob was the protector of the island, and he was flawed in his treatment of his brother, the "Man in Black", whose goal was to kill Jacob and get off the island. The island was settled by the Dharma initiative, which built a village and several scientific laboratories or stations. The others, and their offspring, including Ben, were brought to the island by the Dharma initiative. Jacob hand selected several individuals, or candidates, to come to the island to take his place as keeper of the island. He manipulated them to be on the plane, and then created the events which caused the plane to crash. Everything that happened on the island, and to the "Oceanic Six" really did happen. Jack died in the last episode re-igniting the force and light, and Hurley became the keeper of the island, while Ben became the "Number two", or the replacement for the Man in Black. The flash sideways stories of the final season was the fantasy world, how the characters would have liked their lives to have been. Those stories took place after the characters died, in some sort of after-life, and when they remembered each other and were re-united in the church, they were in that after-life place, sometime in the future after they all had died. Ben did not come into the church because he had more to do, and could not be part of the reunion.

Or, at least, that's my interpretation. It makes sense to me. And it illustrates what was so great about the show, its complexities, its different interpretations, and its fascinating story. Despite its maddening premise, the show kept me riveted week after week. The writing was great, the acting was solid, and the setting was utopian. Like "24", it provided a wonderful hour-long escape from the reality of my life. And that's what can be great about television, that you can for one hour escape into some fantasy show, and forget about your problems and everyday stresses. Both "24" and "Lost" succeeded in that admirably, and I will miss them both.

Sir Paul

2010-04-02T08:23:00.000-07:00

I was five years old when The Beatles first came into my life. It was December, 1963, and everyone, even five year-olds like me, was still in shock over the Kennedy assassination. Suddenly, the radio was filled with the sounds of this new group from England. Songs like "I Want to Hold Your Hand", "She Loves You", "All My Loving" and "I Saw Her Standing There" were being played constantly. My cousin bought the first album "Meet The Beatles" and I bought the follow-up, "The Beatles Second Album" and we played those two records to death.

Beatlemania was unlike anything that had happened before or since. In February of 1964, like millions of American kids, I sat in my living room with my parents on a Sunday night and watched The Beatles perform on The Ed Sullivan Show. I was mesmerized. I got every album and 45 I could lay my hands on, not to mention plastic Beatle guitars, wigs, and trading cards. When the movie of "A Hard Day's Night" came to my local drive-in that summer, my parents took us to see the movie. I will never forget the cars filled with screaming teenage girls on either side of us. I was six years old, and a hard-core Beatles fan.

As I got older, my musical tastes branched out to embrace other groups, but The Beatles were always number one. I idolized John Lennon, but I truly loved them all. Their music was, and still is, simply incredible. When the band broke up in 1970, I was pretty devestated, but I understood that it was inevitable. I continued to be a fan of their solo work, but I was underwhelmed by Paul's initial output. I was not a great fan of Wings, but they got better as they got along, and by the time they released their seminal live album, "Wings over America," I had grown to appreciate them.

My first live rock concert was, no coincidence, George Harrison in 1974. It probably was not that great, musically, but there he was in the flesh, a real live Beatle. He sang "In My Life" and dedicated it to John, Paul, and Ringo. And he did a great job with "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," although Eric Clapton was not there to assist with the guitar, as he does on the White Album.

I regret that I never got to see John in concert prior to his murder. And I will always remember being angry at Paul's seemingly nonchalant reaction to his former partner's death. Paul has always maintained that he was in shock at the time and was actually devestated by John's murder. I was willing to concede him that, but I was still annoyed by the mediocre pop drivel he was putting out. Songs like "Silly Love Songs", "Say Say Say", and "Ebony and Ivory" were pretty bad, although I have to admit a perverse fondness for "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey."

I got the opportunity to see Paul in 1990 on a brutally hot summer night in Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona. Paul was quite good, his backing band was adequate, and he did do about 7 or 8 Beatle songs. I was satisfied in having seen another Beatle, but I was not, in any way, ovewhelmed.

So, when my wife told me that she wanted to go to the McCartney concert in Glendale this spring, which would launch Paul's latest tour, I was not particularly excited about it. She wanted to take our kids and give them an opportunity to see a Beatle, so I agreed. I was expecting a good show, but not anything great. Turns out, I was 100 per cent wrong.

These days, Paul McCartney is 67 years old. Having lived through personal tragedies and a tumultuous public life, he looks absolutely fantastic and could pass for 40. He would have satisfied his audience if he played a nostalgiac, 90 minute greatest hits show. But that was not Paul's intent on this particular night in Arizona. No, Paul wanted to prove that he is still a rocker, and still vital, and still able to blow an audience away. Boy, did he ever!

He rocked the house for three hours and 40 songs. He played 23 Beatles songs, including the hits you would expect ("Hey Jude", "Yesterday", "Let it Be", "Get Back"), as well as many songs we never expected ("Got to Get You into My Life", "I'm Looking Through You", "Day Tripper", "Paperback Writer", "Lady Madonna", "Two of Us", "I've Got a Feeling"). He played a rollicking version of "Back in the USSR", an absolutely blistering version of "Helter Skelter", and a wonderfully emotional version of "A Day in the Life." That was certainly one I never expected to hear live. He paid tribute to John with a stunning version of "Give Peace a Chance" and George with a magnificent version of "Something."

He played 8 Wings songs, starting the show with "Venus and Mars/Rock Show", followed by "Jet." He played two of my favorite Wings songs, "Let Me Roll It" and "Letting Go." He played an energetic and powerful version of "Live and Let Die", with pyrotechnics which left the audience buzzing. And he played some new songs, which instead of being pop trifles, were actually rocking, bluesy triumphs. His back-up band was outstanding, and Paul was simply dynamic, his amazing vocal gifts as brilliant as ever. He demonstrated his versatility by playing bass, lead guitar, rhythm guitar, ukelele, and piano. He played with a passion and purpose that I thought he had lost many years ago. He played with joy on his face, and he seemed to relish every minute of it. Oh, and did I mention that he rocked the house for three freaking hours? It was absolutely "Springsteenesque".

I have been to well over a hundred rock concerts in my lifetime. I have seen The Who, The Rolling Stones, The Police, U2, Billy Joel, Bob Seger, Elton John, The Kinks, The Grateful Dead, and, of course, The Boss no less than 12 times. Until now, I have always maintained that the first time I saw Springsteen, in 1975, at my college, was the greatest concert I have ever seen. That show rocked my world, and changed me musically forever. I never thought anyone would be able to knock Springsteen off that pedastel.

Until now. Five days later, I am still buzzing about it. Paul McCartney's concert at Jobing.com Arena in Glendale, Arizona, last Sunday night was the greatest concert I have ever seen. Who wouldda thunk it?

The Desert Island---Part 2

2010-03-04T11:10:00.000-08:00

OK, so I'm back on my desert island. I've watched my ten favorite movies, and now I want to listen to some music. The problem is I can only have 10 discs with me. So what do I choose? Well, let me put some self-imposed restrictions on this. I can only have one choice from one performer, no greatest hits or live albums allowed, and only official releases are allowed (not that I own any unofficial releases--but I'm just saying).

Before I divulge my list, let me say a few words about what you won't find. You're not going to find any punk, rap, hip-hop, country or jazz on this list. While I certainly like jazz and some punk, I don't like them enough to have them with me on a desert island. As far as rap and its cousin, hip-hop, while I can appreciate their importance and popularity, I'm just not interested. No, basically what I will take with me will be what is now commonly referred to as "old guy rock." Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

1. "Revolver" The best and most consistent album by the greatest rock band of all time. Sure, most people would prefer "Sergeant Pepper", "Abbey Road", or the white album, but have you listened to "Revolver" lately? There are no bad songs, George Harrison finally achieved greatness with this album, and the album perfectly captures the band's transition to serious music. Still unconvinced? OK, how about this: "Taxman", "Eleanor Rigby", "For No One", "Got to Get You into my Life", "Tomorrow Never Knows", "I Want to Tell You", "Yellow Submarine", "Here There and Everywhere", "Good Day Sunshine". "She Said She Said, "Love You to", "Dr. Robert." Yeah, nuff said. And, by the way, did I happen to mention the name of the band that created this masterpiece? I thought not. Didn't need to.

2. "Who's Next" It's unfortunate that many people are basing their conception of The Who on their performance at this year's Super Bowl. That's like basing your opinion of Michelangelo on some doodlings he might have done as a child. If you doubt The Who's relevance, just stick this CD in your player and turn it up loud. This album is loaded with rock anthems, like "Baba O'Reilly", "Won't Get Fooled Again", and "Bargain". The performance on the album shows clearly why John Entwhistle and Keith Moon were the greatest rhythm section in rock history, bar none. Roger Daltrey's vocals are tremendous (a far cry from that old-guy imposter at the Super Bowl) and Pete Townshend's writing and guitar playing are worthy of his legendary status. This album is rock perfection.

3. "Born to Run" Big surprise here, right? The Boss's undisputed masterpiece, still incredible after all these years. The title track is probably the most unique single in rock history, but the true greatness of this album lies in songs like "Thunder Road", "Jungleland", "Backstreets", "Night", and "She's the One", wherein Springsteen stakes his claim as the greatest rock poet of our generation.

4. "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" Once upon a time, Elton John was actually a musician and an artist, as hard as that is to believe today. This is his most consistent and greatest album. Side one of the record, with "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding", "Candle in the Wind" and "Bennie and the Jets" is legendary, but there is so much more to be found here. Lesser-known songs such "All the Young Girls Love Alice", "This Song Has no Title", "Jamaica Jerk-off", "Grey Seal", "The Ballad of Danny Bailey", and "Sweet Painted Lady" are wonderful stories performed with precision and humor. A great album.

5. "Every Picture Tells a Story" Another example of a rocker who has long forgotten how to rock. But oh, back in the day....The title tune is incredible and tells a provocative story. "Maggie May" is one of the all-time classics and "Reason to Believe" is probably the prettiest song Rod Stewart ever sang. Hard to believe Rod the Mod was ever this great, but here is the proof.

6. "It's Only Rock n Roll" My favorite Rolling Stones album, and I am probably in the minority here, but who cares. To me, this is their most consistent and interesting album with Mick Taylor's wonderful guitar playing leaving its imprint all over the album. Check out side one for the title track, "Ain't Too Proud to Beg", "If You Can't Rock Me", "Til the Next Goodbye", and "Time Waits for No One." I think it's their best side on any of their albums. Maybe I can change my rules and take "Let it Bleed", too.

7. "Layla and other assorted love Songs" Derek and the Dominoes' only studio album, featuring Eric Clapton at his best. While the title song might be the greatest rock and roll song ever, the album also includes such classics as "Bell Bottom Blues", "Little Wing", "Tell the Truth" and "Let it Rain." Duane Allman traded guitar licks with Clapton, and the result was rock magic.

8. "Making Movies" I love Dire Straits and this is, by far, their best album. With a little help from Roy Bittan on keyboards, Mark Knopfler and company knock out some great rock and roll ("Tunnel of Love", "Expresso Love", "Solid Rock"), a wonderful ballad ("Romeo and Juliet"), and a little ditty ("Skateaway") that defies description, which nevertheless cooks with some of Knopfler's best guitar work.

9. "Supernatural" Carlos Santana re-invented himself with this amazing collection of songs, which contained some tremendous guest vocalists. "Smooth", "Maria Maria", and "Put Your Light On" have become some of the best and well-known songs of Santana's career, but the album is chock full of great tunes, and amazing guitar playing.

10. "Are You Experienced?"/ "Blonde on Blonde" OK, I cheated. I couldn't pick between these two for my tenth choice, so I'm bringing them both. It's my island, I can make the rules, and I can break them. First, Hendrix. "Are You Experienced?" has so many great songs, it seems like a greatest hits album. "Purple Haze", "Manic Depression", "Hey Joe", "Foxey Lady", "Fire", "The Wind Cries Mary", the title track. How in the world did all these great songs end up on Hendrix's debut album? Superb guitar playing, great lyrics, tremendous performance. What an incredible musical talent that guy was!
Then, there's Dylan. Well, if you have been reading my blog on a regular basis, you know that I'm a little pissed off at Bob Dylan, and he's basically a shell of what he used to be. But "Blonde on Blonde" is an incredible collection of songs which clearly show why Dylan is such a legend. "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35 (or commonly known as "everybody must get stoned")", "I Want You", "One of Us Must Know", "Just Like a Woman", "Stuck Inside of Mobile..." are all great, famous Dylan classics. But I really like the lesser-known songs, such as "Temporary Like Achilles", "Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands", and "Absolutely Sweet Marie". I don't think Dylan ever sounded better or had a stronger collection of songs. And then there's what I believe is the album's true masterpiece, "Visions of Johanna", a touching portrayal of a woman which contains Dylan's greatest performance. Listening to that song never fails to move me. A true masterpiece from a musical legend.
Sorry, but I gotta have both of these masterpieces with me on the island.

So, there's my list. Pretty brutal, isn't it? To really survive on that island, I need to bring about 500 albums to suit my needs. Oh well, I'll just have to suffice with my top ten, er, I mean eleven.

Avatar

2010-02-07T09:23:00.000-08:00

For the longest time, going to the movies has been an empty experience for me. The combination of ridiculously high prices, small screens, poor quality projection and the sound from the next theater of the multiplex bleeding into my theater have all made going to the movies a chore, instead of a treat. Indeed, for the last seven or eight years, my preference was to stay home and wait for the DVD.

There have been some exceptions, of course. "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy was made to be seen on the big screen. But for the most part, going to a movie theater and paying anywhere from $50-70 for a movie that might suck has not been something I enjoyed.

It wasn't always like that. My love for movies developed at an early age for me, and I became a full-fledged film buff while I was in high school. I'll never forget the wonder and delight I experienced the first time I saw such movies as "Lawrence of Arabia", "Planet of the Apes", and "2001: A Space Odyssey." They weren't just movies, they were experiences. I was taken to a new world, and I was totally removed from my reality and surrendered to the magic of the movies. I never got over that sense of wonder. And that, of course, is what has been missing from my movie-going experience lately.

So, with that cynical approach, I went to go see James Cameron's "Avatar" in IMAX 3D. I really wasn't sure what to expect, I am generally turned off by hype toward anything. And 3D movies, with those stupid glasses you have to wear, never really impressed me. It always seemed like just a gimmick.

Until now. All those expressions I used above, the "magic of the movies", "the sense of wonder" was all there right up on that huge screen. The 3D was tremendous, it didn't detract from the movie but added to its effect. By the time the movie was five minutes old, I forgot I was wearing the glasses. The IMAX screen is so large that you can be swept in if the film is good enough. And the movie itself? It was simply wonderful.

At a length of two hours and forty-five minutes, it is not a minute too long. I never found myself squirming or looking at my watch. I was completly engrossed and totally engulfed by this incredibly entertaining film. Like the original "Star Wars", it is not a "deep" or "important" drama with compelling performances, but an enthralling and exhilarating entertainment. It has a wonderful plot, which pulls you in and touches you to the core. And, unlike many movies, it has a climax which pays off.

But it's the look of the movie which makes it such a cinematic milestone. You are transported to an alien world, the likes of which has never before been rendered so well in a movie. Every shot is rich with detail and wonder. The CGI and other animation effects are seamless. Everything looks so real and believeable. A whole new world is presented, with humanoids and animals that all look so real and believeable. It is all so breathtaking.

It's been a long time since I felt like I got my money's worth at the movies. Finally, with "Avatar" in IMAX 3D, I can honestly say it was worth every penny. Thank you, James Cameron. Nice job.

The Monday after

2010-01-25T15:43:00.000-08:00

So, once again, the Jets will not be going to the Super Bowl. I should be depressed, but I am not. It's hard to get upset at this Jets team, which so thoroughly exceeded expectations, which was so fun to watch and root for, which made us all so proud. We have a good new coach who preaches defense first, a wonderful rookie quarterback who will only get better, a terrific-looking rookie running back, and an absolute stud in the defensive backfield. The future looks bright indeed.

Despite being massive underdogs, the Jets came out with fire and emotion to actually take a second quarter lead, 17-6 yesterday. I don't remember when I've ever seen Peyton Manning sacked on successive offensive plays. But when Manning finally figured out how to attack the defense, and marched down the field in only three plays right before halftime, I knew it was all over. It was just a matter of time before Peyton assumed total control. The difference between this Colts team and those of the past is that this one has an awesome defense, to go along with the great Peyton Manning. I believe that Peyton will go down as the greatest NFL quarterback of all time, if he is not already there. All he really needs is a couple of more rings to cement his legacy. I think he will have number two in a couple of weeks, the Colts should dominate the Saints. I only hope it's a competitive game.

And the Jets? They should be nothing but proud. Nobody picked them to make it to the AFC Championship game. They have nothing to hang their heads about. They just lost to a better team on the road. It happens. Their time will come.

J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS

2010-01-18T17:38:00.000-08:00

I was 10 years old when Broadway Joe Namath made his infamous prediction that his underdog New York Jets were going to beat the heavily-favored Colts in Super Bowl III. Namath was one of my idols, the leader of my favorite football team, and a guy who was just the coolest person on the planet. If you were a kid living on Long Island in 1968, you were a New York Jets fan because of Broadway Joe. And when he made good on his boast, and won the Super Bowl, well, it was just too good to be true.

Yeah, no kidding. Since then, we Jets fans have waited 41 years for the Jets to repeat. They've made it as far as the AFC Conference championship game twice. In 1982, they lost to Miami, after it had rained for two days straight, soaking an uncovered Orange Bowl field, and rendering Richard Todd and his passing attack totally useless. The Dolphins won 14-0. It was crushing.

And then, in 1999, the Jets suddenly found themselves back again, with Vinny Testaverde in the saddle and Bill Parcells as coach. They actually led the Denver Broncos 6-0 at halftime in Denver, when John Elway woke up in the second half and took control, won the game, and ended up winning the Super Bowl.

And that's it. The Jets have only gotten that far twice in 41 years. They've gotten into the playoffs several other times, only to fall short. Most years, they have just sucked. And now, all of a sudden, we have the new Jets, the Jets of Rex Ryan, Mark Sanchez and Darrell Revis. A team with a blistering defense and a tremendous running game. A team so unlike any other Jets team that we fans don't know what to make of it.

A month ago, the Jets were plodding along at 7-7. They needed to win their last two games to make the playoffs, and they were losing to Peyton Manning and the Colts in Indy. That's when the Colts, inexplicably, decided to forego their run at a perfect season and pulled all their regulars, including Manning, at halftime and basically handed the game to the Jets. The Jets then dominated the Bengals in the final game of the season, and surprise, surprise, they made the playoffs. Then, to really confound things, they beat the Bengals again in the Wild Card round, and upset San Diego yesterday to move on to the Conference Championship for only the fourth time in their history. And who will the Jets be playing on Sunday? None other than Peyton Manning and the Colts. You couldn't have scripted it any better.

And if the Jets win on Sunday? I don't even want to get my hopes up. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I found myself grinning stupidly all day today, and saying in my head "J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS"!!! Thank you, Indy, for laying down in Game 15. Here's hoping you end up regretting that decision big time!

Poker, Bruce, and other stuff

2009-12-31T09:08:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Brucefan and I just got back from a much-needed vacation. Tonight we celebrate the 10th anniversary of the night we met, so this was sort of a second honeymoon. It was wonderful. And I am happy to report that one of the highlights of the vacation, during the Las Vegas portion, was a second place finish in a poker tournament by yours truly. It was a nice conclusion to what has been an awful year for me poker-wise. In retrospect, I played very well, and got some nice breaks. As always, with Texas Hold'em, I also got some luck. About midway through the tournament, I was holding my own, with a medium to low stack. The blinds were increasing, and I needed to make a move soon. Ahead of me two players went all in, I had them both covered, and I looked down at A-J suited in spades. Normally, I would not call an all in with this hand, A-J not being a particularly strong hand. But I needed to make a move and I just had this gut feeling. I called. One guy turned over pocket 8's, the other guy had A-8. An ace came out on the flop, and the "case" 8 did not show up, so my pair of aces with the Jack kicker won the hand. I tripled up and knocked both guys out. It was the turning point for me.

From there, I continued to win some small pots, never with much of a hand, as I picked my spots and made moves at the right time. Soon we were down to the final table, but only six places paid out. The big stack did not want to chop, so we played it down, and then there were three of us. I got crippled with pocket deuces, when the board showed two higher pair, making the other guy's Ace kicker suddenly the winning hand. I then went all in three times in a row, winning all three times to get healthy again. Then, the guy in second place went all in, I folded and the big stack called. Second place had pocket queens, the big stack had an Ace, and when the flop showed an ace, number two was knocked out, and now it was just me and the big stack. We traded pots for a few hands, but I was low stacked to him, by almost 10 to 1. When I looked down at King-rag suited, I went all in. Absurdly, the big stack had A-K, the dreaded Big Slick. He called my all in, he paired his ace, and it was all over. Second place, a terrific finish, an extremely well-played tournament, and I was on cloud nine. I never did have to dig into my pocket for Vegas playing money after that, and I even donated to Mrs. Brucefan's fun in Vegas. Sweet!!!!

I caught The Boss's receipt of the Kennedy Center award the other night on TV. As a Springsteen fan for the last 34 years, it was somewhat shocking to see my rock hero sitting next to the First Lady, and to see the Obamas rocking out to Bruce's music. With this recognition and the Boss's performance at the Super Bowl last year, it's clear that Bruce has once again stepped up in the pantheon of icons. Jon Stewart's introduction was great, but the musical tributes to Bruce were somewhat lame, other than Sting's interpretation of "The Rising." And I still have to ask this question: has there ever been a top 40 hit quite like "Born to Run?" Thirty-four years later, that song still sounds fresh and exciting. Happy New Year, Bruce.

The Arizona Wildcats embarrassed themselves on national TV last night in the Holiday Bowl. What in heaven's name happened? Didn't the coaching staff realize they were there to play a football game and not to be on vacation? I'm sorry, I understand they had a nice year and were three seconds from playing in the Rose Bowl, but last night was an absolute disgrace. Mike Stoops is a bad coach, and an idiot. How do you not have your team prepared to play? I get it that Nebraska was the much better team, but the showing last night by the team from Tucson was horrible. It was painful to watch. I'm glad I didn't fork up the money to go to San Diego for the game, I would be furious right now if I had.

The honeymoon seems to be over for the Obama administration. This latest national security mess has turned out to be a fiasco. I think the President needs to make someone the fall guy, and that someone is Janet Napolitano, my former boss. Looks like our former governor bit off a bit more than she can chew with the new job in Washington. The Republicans are screaming for her head, and I think President O needs to comply to resurrect the viability of his Presidency. Bye bye, Janet, you should have stayed in Phoenix where you could do no wrong.

And finally, a few words about Stephen King, my favorite author. I previously wrote on this blog that King had been in a major funk for several years, until he came back big time last year with "Duma Key," his best book in a long time. Now, he's followed that up with "Under the Dome", a 1,000-plus page opus about a small town in Maine, and what happens when an invisible dome suddenly comes down and closes off the town to the rest of the world. It's a return to the kind of work King did with "The Stand" and "It", combining multiple characters and solid story-telling to churn out a solid page-turner. It's a bravura return to form for King, and I highly recommend it to all the "constant readers" out there.

All things considered, 2009 was a pretty good year. Happy New Year, everyone.

The Curse of the Wildcat, Part Two

2009-12-07T09:52:00.000-08:00

Following the gut-wrenching defeat against the Oregon Ducks, the Arizona Wildcats had to play their arch-rival, Arizona State in Tempe. They were clearly the better team, as the Sun Devils are experiencing a serious decline these days. Nevertheless, a spirited Sun Devil team rallied in the second half to tie the game and wrenched the momentum away from Arizona. Late in the fourth quarter, the Wildcats were stuffed once again by the seeemingly reborn ASU defense, and the Cats had to punt away. The Sun Devil receiver signaled for a fair catch, the ball bounced through his hands, hit the turf, and ended up in the arms of the nearest Wildcat. Arizona ran the time down, kicked a game-winning field goal, and escaped with a lucky win against their in-state enemies.

The final regular season game of the year was at USC in the intimidating LA Coliseum. For those of you who don't follow Pac-10 football, USC has owned the conference for the past six years. They have won the conference each of those years in dominating fashion, and have often been in the BCS title picture. Needless to say, UA Coach Mike Stoops had never beaten them. For most of the game this past Saturday, the Wildcats looked good, but not quite good enough. They led for most of the first half, then fell behind as USC seemed to regroup. And then, after being stuffed on every possession in the second half, Arizona quarterback Nick Foles led the Wildcats on a fourth quarter drive, tossing a 39-yard touchdown pass to sophomore Juron Cryner for the go-ahead score with three and a half minutes left. The Wildcats then stopped the Trojans, and proceeded to run out the clock to finish the regular season with a statement victory. The U of A's final record was 8-4, 6-3 in conference play, good enough for a tie for second in the conference. They owned the tie-breaker over the other two teams, Oregon State and Stanford, since they had beaten both those teams head-to-head. Stoops finally had his victory over USC, the Cats and their fans were overjoyed to finish second in the conference, and the team will move on to the Holiday Bowl on December 30th, to once again face Nebraska (how's that for irony?).

But, oh, what might have been. There were so many little things in that Oregon game that could have turned out differently. So many bounces, so many freakish plays. This Arizona team should be headed to the Rose Bowl, to play Ohio State and be part of the BCS. Damn! The Curse of the Wildcat. What else can I say?

The Curse of the Wildcat

2009-11-22T09:22:00.000-08:00

From 1982 to 2007, I lived in Tucson, Arizona. If you're a sports junkie like myself, and you live in Tucson, there is only one game in town, the University of Arizona Wildcats. During most of that period, I got to experience the era of Lute Olson basketball, as the U of A became a national power, garnering four Final Four appearances and one national championship.

As much as I may have enjoyed UA basketball, my true love was football. Since my first season in 1982, right up until I moved to Phoenix in 2007, I went to at least one game, and usually more. I often had season tickets, and watched the Wildcats tear my heart out every season.

The U of A plays in the Pacific 10 conference. The winner of the conference plays in the Rose Bowl, and since the Wildcats entered the conference, they are the only team to never play in the Rose Bowl game. They have been close, tantalizingly close, but they have never made it. There was the Desert Swarm team of the early 90's, the team of Tedy Bruschi, which came close, but blew a big lead in a game against Cal which lost them the conference, and had to console itself with a New Year's Day whipping of Miami in the Fiesta Bowl. Then there was the equally dominant team of Chris McAlister in the late 90's, a team that, but for a fourth quarter meltdown against UCLA, would have gone undefeated and made the Rose Bowl. Instead, that team went to the Holiday Bowl in San Diego and beat Nebraska.

After that, the Wildcats imploded. Long-time coach Dick Tomey was run out of town, his replacement, John Mackovic, was an unmitigated disaster. The school then hired Mike Stoops to helm the football team, on the assumption that he would be a carbon copy of his brother, Bob, the head coack at Oklahoma. It hasn't quite worked out that way.

It's been a hard road for Stoops. He inherited a program in shambles, and has built it back to some semblance of respectability. His recruiting ability has been exceptional. His in-game coaching, however, leaves something to be desired. He's something of a loose cannon, and can often be seen screaming on the sidelines at his players, his coaches, or the refs. If he gets a lead, he then goes into a conservative, play-not-to-lose shell, and that more often than not leads to disaster.

Last year, Stoops led the Wildcats to their first bowl game in ten years, as the Wildcats went to the Las Vegas Bowl, and came out with a victory. This year, they found themselves at 6-3 last night, in second place in the conference, and able to win the conference and go to the Rose Bowl if they won out their last three games, starting with last night's game at home against the conference-leading Oregon Ducks.

The Wildcats would have, should have, could have won last night's game. They played toe to toe with Oregon all night long, they put up 41 total points, and led 31-24 with four minutes left in the game. They stuffed Oregon on fourth down, and took over in excellent field position. All that was left was a couple of first downs and a field goal to ice the game. Yeah, right. Instead, quarterback Nick Foles threw a desperation pass into the end zone, which glanced off his receiver's hands into the arms of a defender for an interception. Oregon marched down the field, converted twice on fourth down, and scored the tying touchdown with six seconds left. Sheesh.

The Ducks scored in the first overtime, as did the Wildcats, but instead of going for the win right then and there with a two-point conversion, Stoops opted to tie the game and go into a second overtime, which is where Oregon won the game. I am heartsick. Looking back, the following things occurred in this game:

---Oregon fumbled twice in the first half, and despite an Arizona defender being right there to pick up the ball, the Ducks recovered.

---Arizona was driving for a first quarter touchdown, when the receiver fumbled the ball at the two, once again an Arizona player was right there, but the ball ended up on the arms of an Oregon defender.

---Early in the third quarter, Arizona missed a chip shot field goal, after they had made a 47 yarder to end the first half.

---Late in the fourth quarter, an Arizona defender dropped a sure interception. Oregon ended up trying for a field goal, the low kick hit the crossbar, bounced up in the air, and fell over the bar for a field goal.

It was sickening. It's bad enough to get beat, but when luck and every bounce goes the other team's way, it is heart-breaking. If any one of those things mentioned above happened differently, the game would have most likely turned out differently.

Instead, the Wildcats lost again. They broke my heart again. Their Rose Bowl hopes were dashed by a bunch of Ducks. From Oregon. Quack, quack.

My ten favorite scary scenes in horror movies

2009-10-31T13:02:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween. To celebrate, here is a list of my ten favorite scary scenes in horror movies, not in any particular order. Beware of spoilers, since I can't make this list without revealing some.

1. I have to start this list with the granddaddy of them all, so my numero uno is the legendary shower scene from "Psycho." Even today, almost sixty years later, when you know what's coming and perhaps have watched the scene dozens of times, like I have, it never ceases to rivet my attention and scare me. If you watch closely, you'll see that never once does Hitchcock show the knife entering Janet Leigh's body. And that soundtrack is simply unbelieveable. In my humble opinion, the best of the best.

2. The arm coming out of the grave in "Carrie." It sounds so lame when you type the words like I just did, but really, there is no other scene in the history of cinema with the power to make you jump right out of your seat as this one. With the serene, lovely, build-up, and the sweetly innocent music on the soundtrack, this is an incredible illustration of the power of cinema.

3. The creepy little girl coming out of the TV in "The Ring." These days, it takes a lot to scare me when I watch a movie, but this was the creepiest and scariest in a movie filled with creepy, scary scenes.

4. Danny on his Big Wheel in "The Shining." For the most part, the classic scary Stephen King books just don't translate well onto the big screen, and Kubrick's film is nowhere near as scary as King's novel. But when little Danny rides his Big Wheel through the Overlook Hotel, rounds a corner, and sees those two creepy little long-dead girls, who then say "Come and play with us, Danny", man, it gets me every time.

5. "The Exorcist." I suppose you can take your pick of scary scenes from this movie, but my favorite is when Father Karras goes into the bedroom and sees the written message "Help Me" slowly materialize on Regan's chest. Much more effective than all the split pea soup/vomit scenes.

6. The first appearance of Pennywise, the Clown in "It." Like "The Shining," Stephen King's novel is far more scary than the TV mini-series, but the scene where Little Georgie chases his toy boat along the puddles in the street, then watches it go down the storm drain, only to see a creepy, scary clown down there in the drain, is scream-out-loud frightening.

7. The opening sequence of "Halloween." There are many terrifying moments in John Carpenter's classic, but it's hard to top the terrifying sequence of little Michael Myers spying on, and then massacring his older sister and her boyfriend, all shown from his point of view. A virtuoso piece of film-making.

8. The birds gathering on the playground while Tippi Hedren obliviously smokes a cigarette in "The Birds." This scene is not scary, per se, but is an excellent example of how to build suspense. We can see the birds gathering behind her, and we want to shout out to her to look out, but obviously we can't, and we can only watch as the danger ratchets up, while our heroine has no clue what's about to happen. Hitchcock was truly a master.

9. The wolf attack in "American Werewolf in London." Until this scene, the movie is light and funny and goofy. Sure, the patrons of the Slaughtered Lamb are creepy as they tell our two heroes to be aware, but it's played for laughs and hard to take seriously. And then comes the realization that Jack and David are lost on the moors, something is following them, and all of a sudden..... Truly frightening.

10. The scene in the original "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" when Miles realizes that his girlfriend, Cathy, has given in and fallen asleep and is now one of the aliens. The expression of pure horror on Miles' face is classic, and the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness is palpable.

I'm sure I've left a bunch of classic scenes out, but for now, this is my list. Hope you enjoy it.

Justice and Roman Polanski

2009-10-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

Thirty years ago, Roman Polanski had vaginal and anal sex with a thirteen year-old girl. He claimed it was consensual, the victim claimed otherwise, and the law said something totally different. The law in virtually every state in this country is that a thirteen year-old child is incapable of giving consent to sexual activity due to that child's immaturity. Sex with a thirteen year-old, whether the thirteen year-old was willing or not, is a crime. It was a crime thirty years ago, and it is a crime today. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Polanski entered into a plea agreement wherein he would not be doing any jail time. He pled guilty to sexual conduct with a minor and awaited sentencing. Prior to the sentencing hearing, the judge ended up having an ex-parte communication with the prosecutor. An ex-parte communication is one made between a judge and only one of the parties to a legal action. It is not permissible under any circumstances, something which every judge and attorney is well aware. Word got out to Polanski about the ex-parte communication, and that the judge intended to reject the plea agreement because he wanted Polanski to do some jail (or prison) time. The smart thing to do would have been for Polanski's attorney to immediately file for a change of judge for cause, since the judge had an impermissible ex-parte communication with the prosecutor. It would have been no problem getting another judge, one who very well may have stayed with the original plea agreement. Instead, Polanski fled the country and has never been back.

For the last thirty years, Polanski has lived in France (which has no extradition treaty with the United States) most of the time, and Switzerland (which does have such a treaty) part of the time. Every time the authorities learned that Polanski was in Switzerland, they tried to get the paperwork in order to have him extradited back to the United States to face the charges from which he fled. But Polanski has either gotten wind of it, or never stayed in Switzerland long enough. Finally, this month, the authorities learned of Polanski's intention to go to Switzerland to receive a lifetime achievement award, and they had the extradition paperwork ready, which led to Polanski's arrest this week. He is facing extradition to the United States to face sentencing for the charge he pled to thirty years ago.

Roman Polanski has certainly led a difficult, tragic, and at times, triumphant life. He was a victim of the Holocaust as a child, and watched his mother be murdered by the Nazis. He survived that tragedy, and became a film director in his native Poland. His first great movie was "Knife in the Water," a challenging and highly enjoyable mystery/thriller. He eventually emigrated to America, and directed several highly regarded movies, including the horror classic "Rosemary's Baby" and one of the greatest crime thrillers of all time, "Chinatown."

He married a beautiful young actress/model named Sharon Tate in the late 60's, moved into a sprawling Bel Air mansion, and awaited his first child. While he was in Europe working on a movie, Sharon and some friends who were visiting her were viciously attacked and murdered by members of the Charles Manson family. The killers stabbed their victims multiple times and wrote cryptic messages in their blood. Sharon Tate pleaded with the murderers to spare her baby, but both mother and unborn child were massacred. Polanski rushed home from Europe to identify what was left of his beautiful wife.

For a number of years after that, Polanski remained in Hollywood, making movies and trying to get over the horror of the murders. His films were edgy and filled with violent images, and there was no doubt that he was using his art as a sort of catharsis. There was no denying, however, the brilliance of his artistry, which culminated with "Chinatown", which many film buffs to this day consider to be Polanski's best film and Jack Nicholson's best performance.

And then came the statutory rape of the 13 year-old girl, and Polanski's subsequent self-imposed exile. He continued to make movies from abroad, some good, some not-so good. He attained his earlier artistic heights with "The Pianist" several years ago, a Holocaust story which won him the Best Director Oscar, which of course, he was unable to personally receive. His Hollywood friends and colleagues clamored for his pardon and return to America. There was even a suggestion from a new judge (the original judge had since passed away) that he would give a fresh look to the case, and probably would not insist on jail time, which was consistent with what the victim (now a woman in her early forties) desired. But Polanski would have to voluntarily surrender himself and come to court. Unfortunately for him, he never did.

As I write this, Roman Polanski sits in a Swiss jail cell, waiting to see if he will actually be extradited to the United States. Many people, especially those on the left and in Hollywood, are screaming in indignation, claiming that an artist like Polanski, who has given so much and suffered so much, should be pardoned for something that occurred so long ago, especially since the victim herself agrees. Others are furious that the suggestion is even being made, and they insist that Polanski should be extradited and face punishment.

Certainly, Roman Polanski has suffered much personal tragedy in his life. It wasn't enough that he watched his mother be killed by the Nazi death machine and barely survived himself. No, he had to suffer the horrific murder of his young wife and his unborn child. My heart will always go out to him for that.

And I agree that Roman Polanski is a gifted and talented film director. His greatest films will live forever, and he has given us much. Nothing can take that away.

Neither of those points matter, however, in my opinion. Roman Polanski is a criminal. He took advantage of a young girl, and raped her, both vaginally and anally. He pled guilty and then fled justice, and has basically been flaunting his fugitive status, living in luxury in Europe for all these years. If one of my clients did that, you can bet that he/she would be brought back and punished severely. The same should apply to Roman Polanski, he should not get a free pass because he has experienced tragedy in his life and became a gifted film artist.

I especially feel badly for the victim in this case. The poor lady does not want to be the center of this media circus concerning an incident that happened to her three decades ago, she just wants to get on with her life. And while I sympathize with her wishes, this case is about more than that, it is bigger than just her. This is about justice, the American criminal justice system, and it is about right and wrong. It is wrong to allow Roman Polanski to get away with what he did. It is right to have him extradited back to to America to face sentencing for his crime. It just doesn't get any simpler than that.

Pete Rose

2009-09-26T16:25:00.000-07:00

I haven't written much about baseball this year, for the simple fact that both my teams have been awful. The Mets have been beset by injuries to their stars, and the prospects they have called up have been hopeless. After two straight years of late-season collapses, the Mets have followed it up with one of their most inept seasons in years. It's time to start all over again, blow the whole thing up. Get rid of Omar Minaya, Jerry Manuel, and all their henchman, and start the re-building process. Again.

As for the Diamondbacks, their demise is much more perplexing. It's hard to comprehend, watching their total ineptness this season, but this is basically the same team that got to the NLCS two years ago. Of course, Brandon Webb, their Cy Young-winning ace has been out all season, but the rest of the team is intact. Mark Reynolds has had a great season, Justin Upton has been great at times, and not so great at others, and Dan Haren deserves the Cy Young award, but obviously won't win it. The rest of the team has stunk. Chris Young has turned into a major head case, and there are too many guys who have played without any desire or emotion. It's been sad to watch, or not watch, as the case may be.

So, without any team to root for, and seeing that teams I despise (i.e., the Yankees, the Cardinals, etc.) are cruising along with major leads in their respective divisions, I have pretty much ignored baseball, something I don't think I've ever done before. I have, however, managed to read Pete Rose's book, "My Prison Without Bars." Now, before I get on my soapbox, let me say that I have never liked Pete Rose, not since that October afternoon when he upended Buddy Harrelson and then proceeded to beat the crap out of him (at least that's how I choose to remember it). The sprinting to first base on a walk, the barreling into Ray Fosse at home plate in the All Star game (which pretty much ended Fosse's career), and all the other Rose crap always seemed like so much BS to me. Oh, I've always admired him for his baseball skills, you can't be a true fan of the game and not appreciate his accomplishments. But I never liked the guy.

So when Rose got caught for betting on baseball, and cheating on his income taxes, and was banned from baseball, denied admission to the Hall of Fame, and did some time in a Federal prison, I shed nary a tear. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. He got what he deserved. And all these years of being banned from baseball were deserved, in my humble opinion. Why in the world should I feel sorry for Pete Rose?

The truth is, I don't feel sorry for Rose, reading his book has not changed that. But reading the book has solidified one thought I've always had about Rose, and that is that he belongs in the Hall of Fame. In my opinion, the Baseball Hall of Fame is about accomplishments on the baseball field. If you're going to bring character up as a consideration, then you better start talking about kicking Ty Cobb out of the hall. Not to mention every player who ever used drugs, whether it's steroids, greenies, cocaine, or what have you. And let's not forget the wife-beaters, and the criminals (yes, drunk driving is a crime). The truth is that character has never had anything to do with being worthy of Hall of Fame enshrinement, and should have nothing to do with it.

Pete Rose is the all-time leader in hits. He won three championship rings, and an MVP. He was a fixture in the All-Star game, and he was one of the main cogs on one of the greatest teams of all time, the Big Red Machine of the 1970's. He has the pedigree, and the intangibles. So, why is he not in?

Well, Pete Rose bet on baseball games, and that is the cardinal no-no of baseball, the one rule that, if broken, will get a player banned from the game. It's all about the integrity of the game, and the direct result of the Black Sox scandal, wherein members of the Chicago White Sox conspired to throw the 1919 World Series with some degenerate gamblers and criminals. It's why Shoeless Joe Jackson, who also has the pedigree for the Hall, will never get in.

For the longest time, Rose denied betting on baseball, but he has since come clean. If there was any doubt, all you have to do is read "My Prison Without Bars." He is forthright and honest about his betting activities. But he never bet against his team, and he never did anything to influence the outcome of a game he had bet on. The rule is iron-clad, and Rose's agreement with then-Commissioner Bart Giamatti was that he would accept a lifetime ban from the game. It would seem the case is closed, as far as that is concerned.

But the Hall of Fame question is different. The Hall of Fame is not really part of Major League Baseball, it is a museum in Cooperstown, New York. It celebrates the game and honors its greatest players. It is filled with tremendous players of questionable character, and it is incomplete without Pete Rose.

Rose deserves to be in, there is simply no question about that. His punishment for his crimes should be his continued banishment from being part of the game and earning a living in the game. That punishment should not extend to enshrinement in the Hall of Fame. Pete Rose's plaque should be there, along with Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, and Joe Morgan. His continued absence is a travesty.

Ted Kennedy

2009-09-07T11:55:00.000-07:00

I have always been conflicted about Ted Kennedy. He's not the mythical, god-like figure that his martyred brother, Jack, has become in our hearts and minds. He's not the intellectual equivalent of his other murdered brother, Bobby. His presidential aspirations were destroyed one tragic night when he either deliberately allowed his passenger to die or was negligent in not being able to save her. He has had problems with alcohol and womanizing, and he played a role in the events that led to his nephew, William Kennedy Smith, being accused and put on trial for sexual assault. His shortcomings have been on display for the whole nation to see over the last four decades.

On the other hand, he spent 47 years in the United States Senate, became the voice of the Democratic Party, and was responsible for much legislation that has positively affected American's lives over the years. He wasn't afraid to wear the liberal mantle, and he wasn't ashamed to proudly work for liberal causes and issues.

He devoted his life to public service, and he paid a high price for it. He watched his beloved two older brothers be murdered, and he was forced to assume the role of family leader and patriarch. He walked his niece down the aisle at her wedding, and provided comfort and support to his widowed sisters-in-law. At times, he behaved in public like an alcoholic and he apparently overcame that over the past few years. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he spent the last decade or so in recovery. He went through a bitter divorce, and tragic medical issues with his son. Seemingly, he got through and overcame all of that.

He never could escape the legacy of Chappaquidick. I don't believe the public has ever known the true facts of what happened. The worst that can be said is that Ted was drunk, was driving Mary Jo Kopechnie somewhere to have sex with her, had an accident and drove off the bridge (perhaps due to his alleged intoxication), saved himself from drowning, and when he couldn't save her, waited for hours until he sobered up to call the police. We don't know if that is what truly occurred, but that is the version that the Kennedy-haters have put forth ever since. Whether true or not, there were enough disturbing questions and issues left from that event to haunt Kennedy for the rest of his life. Many people believe he bought himself out of having to suffer serious consequences for his actions. Many people have never forgiven him for that. It cost him a serious run at the presidency and will forever stain his legacy.

In death, what has been most talked about are his accomplishments and leadership in the Senate, and his ability to overcome his private demons. Unlike his brothers, who in death have become larger than life, Ted Kennedy has remained a human being, flawed like everyone else, but able to withstand and overcome those personal flaws, and have a significant impact on this nation. When you look at it that way, perhaps he really was the greatest of the Kennedy's. In any event, his passing was truly significant, the end of an era. His influence will be felt for decades to come, and he will be missed.

Tarantino

2009-09-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

When I was in high school and college, my world revolved around film. It was never referred to as movies, it was always "film" or "cinema." I worshipped directors like Kubrick, Truffaut, and Bergman. I wrote film reviews for my college newspaper and I served on the student programming board, on the film committee, of course. Nothing was more important to me.

As time went on, other things, such as making a living, getting married, and having a family slowly took over. I became less obsessed. I still enjoyed movies and reading film reviews, but had long since given up the fantasy of becoming a film critic. And every now and then, I would discover some new director who would so inflame my film passions that I became a total fanboy. In the 70's, it was Scorcese. In the late 80's/early 90's, it was Oliver Stone. And since the first time I saw "Pulp Fiction", it's been Quentin Tarantino.

There is really no director making films these days like Tarantino. People either worship him or despise him, but there is no denying his influence on modern-day cinema. A new Tarantino film is a cause for celebration, and each new film breaks different ground for the director. I don't believe I'm being a fanboy by saying he's the most exciting director out there these days.

The first real Tarantino film (despite the fact that he did not actually direct it) was "True Romance." A quirky, off-beat, brazen mix of romance, comedy, action and violence, "True Romance" boasted a then-unknown cast that reads like a Hollywood who's who: Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, James Gandolfini, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman and others valiantly support Christian Slater and Rosanna Arquette in the lead roles. The brilliant dialogue, never more incisive than in the classic scene between Hopper and Walken, bursts out like street poetry. Maybe Tarantino only wrote the screenplay, but his mark is all over this film.

Next came "Reservoir Dogs", a caper film unlike any other. It was Tarantino's first turn as director, and we never actually see the botched robbery, only the events leading up to it, and immediately after it. Such Tarantino staples as graphic violence and constant use of profanity were seamlessly woven into the fascinating story. And I shouldn't forget Tarantino's use of popular music, and not just on the soundtrack. No one who has ever seen this film can listen to the Steelers Wheel song "Stuck in the middle with You", and not think of this picture.

But it was his next film which really cemented Tarantino's position as an auteur and artist. That film, of course, was "Pulp Fiction". If "Citizen Kane" created the glossary of film-making, paving the way for everything that came after it, "Pulp Fiction" took it to a whole new level. I won't go into a description of the film itself, by this time, you've either seen it or not; you either love it or not. Suffice to say, it was the most exciting, original film to come out of Hollywood in many years.

Tarantino's next films, "Jackie Brown", the "Kill Bill" films, and "Grindhouse" were all fascinating, well-made films that towered above most of the other crap you could see at the multiplex. But as good as they were, they felt like "lesser Tarantino." They were certainly entertaining and a joy to watch, but they did not get the adrenaline flowing like his first three movies.

That all changed with the release of "Inglourious Basterds." Part war film, part ode to cinema, part revisionist history, the film is Tarantino's fantasy of how he would have ended World War II if he had been made God for a day. Like most Tarantino, the film is funny, engrossing, tense, absorbing, frightening, and violent. The acting is superb, especially the unknown German television actor, Christoph Waltz as the Jew-hunting Nazi, Hans Landa. The dialogue is superb, the tension in some of the scenes is unbearable. And the climax, in what is clearly an homage to Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" contains images which have stuck with me ever since I saw the film. This is probably Tarantino's most personal film, containing the themes and values which he undoubtedly holds dear. And it is simply unforgettable.

There are far too many schlockmeisters in Hollywood today, turning out dreck like "GI Joe." There are only a few true artists, who somehow have figured how to make personal visions in films that are nevertheless popular and successful. Tarantino is that rare film artist who does things his way, is true to his vision, yet never forgets that his primary purpose is to entertain. There is no one out there like him, and nobody makes films like he does. Like Orson Welles so many years before him, Tarantino is a true film genius. Don't miss his latest masterpiece.

The arrogance of Bob Dylan

2009-08-10T16:42:00.000-07:00

There are certain performers in the world of classic rock music who are nothing short of icons. Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, Pete Townshend, Eric Clapton, people like that. Some would argue that the biggest icon of them all is Bob Dylan. Certainly, Dylan has had as much influence on popular music as anyone else has over the last 40 or so years. While I am not a Dylan fanboy, I certainly like a great deal of his music, and respect the man for what he has accomplished.

While I have seen live most of the greats of classic rock, there are a few glaring exceptions. One of those exceptions is Dylan, and I was looking forward with great anticipation to the concert he was to have played in an outdoor spring training stadium in Phoenix tomorrow night. I use the term "was to have played", because this past Friday, the "great one" cancelled the show. He apparently also cancelled his show the next night in Las Vegas. And the reason for the cancellations? The heat. Wait, let me say that again, the heat. The damn heat, for crying out loud!!

I mean, give me a break. It is no secret that it is brutally hot in Phoenix and Las Vegas during the summer, anyone who has ever been to those places can tell you that, not to mention those of us who have lived here for more than a quarter of a century. Plenty of musicians and entertainers come here in the summertime, anyway, knowing full well that it's going to be a hot night. I saw Paul McCartney in a sweltering Sun Devil Stadium on a hot July night in 1990. A few years before that, I saw The Police at Phoenix Giants Stadium (rip) on a night when the temperature hit 115. They both gave tremendous shows. True, at one point, Sting had to stop and drink about a gallon of water, but it didn't affect his performance. Those were two of the best concerts I have ever enjoyed.

Dylan, on the other hand, is simply an arrogant prima donna. It can't possibly be a surprise to him and his entourage that it is hot in Phoenix in August. What in God's name were they thinking? And don't they care in the slightest about the thousands of fans who were looking forward to the show? Don't we count for anything?

I am beyond disgusted. If the heat in Phoenix (and apparently Vegas) was going to be an issue, then why weren't we placed in a different spot on the tour. It's not hot here all year long. Why not play here in April or October? Why dangle the carrot if you're just going to pull it away? Would it have been so difficult to be the slightest bit considerate and schedule the Phoenix show for a cooler time of year?

It's pretty obvious to me that Dylan just doesn't care. Pretty damn arrogant of him, in my humble opinion. So, I tell you what, Bob. You and I are done. I don't buy another pair of tickets, I don't buy any more of your music. You get no more money from this Arizona desert rat. You obviously don't care about me, and I don't need you. Adios, Bob.

The Desert Island---Part I

2009-07-11T11:51:00.000-07:00

I belong to one of those internet social networks, and one of the fun things I did a while back was list my "Desert Island discs", that is, the 15 albums or CD's that I would have to have with me if I was stranded on a desert island. That was so much fun that I figured I would bring the concept over to my blog. Part I is going to list the 10 DVD's that I would have to have with me, then I will list the albums/CD's in Part II, the books in Part III, and toys in Part IV. We'll see how it goes. So, in no particular order, here are the top 10 movies/DVD's that I would need to have with me on my desert island and why:

1. The Godfather
My all-time favorite movie, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you why. I couldn't live out the rest of my life happily if I couldn't experience all over again Marlon Brando uttering the immortal line "I made him an offer he couldn't refuse", Al Pacino making his bones in the Italian restaurant, James Caan having his way with one of the bridesmaids at his sister's wedding, Caan again this time meeting his violent end at the Jones Beach tollbooth, and the superbly done baptism sequence of Carlo and Connie's baby. The best gangster movie ever made and more than worthy of its Academy Awards and legendary status.

2. It's A Wonderful Life
I did a blog entry some months ago about why I identify with George Bailey, so I won't go into it all again. This film is timeless and makes me cry every time I watch it. And consider this, I first showed this film to my stepson and stepdaughter eight years ago. They are now 17 and 14, moody and cynical, and very much a product of their time. Nevertheless, they still insist on seeing this black-and-white, made-in-1946 film every Christmas eve. I think that says it all.

3. The Searchers
Anyone who has ever been cynical about John Wayne should see this film. The Duke does a tremendous job of acting, and actually makes you care about a character who is racist, sexist, violent, and thinks nothing of shooting people in the back. The photography is gorgeous, the story is absorbing, and the entire production is simply beautiful. John Ford, one of the great masters of American cinema, never made a better movie.

4. Pulp Fiction
Many people don't "get" Quentin Tarantino, and I can understand why. This film, however, is simply a masterpiece. With its lopsided chronology, amazing dialogue, fascinating moral dillemas and tremendous acting, the film continues to engage and entertain. Too many unforgettable sequences to name them all, but just a few are: Travolta and Thurman's wonderful dance at Jackrabbit Slim's, Samuel L. Jackson's monologue supposedly quoting the Bible just before he kills Frank Whaley, Bruce Willis and Ving Rhymes meeting up with Zed and his buddies, and the infamous adrenaline shot scene. Dang, I want to go put it in my DVD player right now just thinking about it.

5. JFK
It's sad to see that Oliver Stone has become such a hack, and I admit that the film plays fast and loose with historical fact. Nevertheless, this is an absorbing and endlessly entertaining movie, which never ceases to get me worked up every time I watch it. I don't know if there was a conspiracy to kill JFK by the Mafia, the Cubans, the military, etc. But I certainly don't believe Oswald acted alone, and this film serves to bring out those feelings. Kevin Costner as an extremely fictionalized Jim Garrison, and the rest of the cast, are enthralling. One of the most "cinematic" films ever made.

6. Goodfellas
I love gangster movies, especially when they are done well, and this one is as great as any. I also idolize Martin Scorcese, who has made more great films than most directors. This one is my all-time favorite of his. A relentless, powerful narrative, driven by tremendous performances from Ray Liotta (never better), Robert DeNiro, Paul Sorvino and Academy Award winner Joe Pesci. This is also Scorcese's most inventive film, with freeze frames, slow motion, montages done to rock music and Liotta's narration, and the famous tracking shot of Liotta and Lorraine Bracco entering a nightclub through a back door, walking down hallways, through a busy kitchen, past busboys and chefs and waiters, and finally into the club itself where they are given a makeshift table and chairs right up front. It's all done in one unbroken shot and it is simply amazing.

7. Casablanca
Do I really need to say anything about this movie? Is there anyone out there who doesn't love it? The definitive Bogart performance, the luminous Ingrid Bergman role, the wonderfully sly and corrupt Claude Rains, the creepy Peter Lorre, etc. Probably the most loved film of all time, endlessly watchable and timeless. Here's looking at you, kid.

8. Z
Here's my one personal favorite that most people will probably scratch their heads over. If you've ever seen this film, you understand its power and greatness. But most people today, especially young people, know nothing about Z. A French-made film about a true assassination of a Greek politician, the film is directed by Constantin Costa-Gavras, a wonderful director who has also become almost forgotten today. With a relentless pace and fascinating story, not to mention one of the all-time great movie scores, the story enfolds and engulfs the viewer, eventually leaving you completely worn out. I saw this film for the first time when I was 11 years old in 1969. My cousin and I were both blown away by its power, and it remained my favorite film for most of my life. If you see no other movie I list in this blog entry, make sure to check out Z. You won't regret it.

9. The Manchurian Candidate
Forget about the remake with Denzel Washington, the original is one of the most powerful and wickedly funny political films ever made. The brainwashing sequence, where Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey's patrol are made to believe that they are at a ladies social club meeting, is one of the most intense sequences in cinema. The rest of the movie is equally relentless, and while the acting of the leads (Harvey, Sinatra, and the beautiful Janet Leigh) is merely adequate, the performances of the supporting players, especially a terrifying Angela Lansbury as Harvey's evil mother, are tremendous.

10. Paths of Glory
I couldn't be stranded on a desert island without a Kubrick film, and I have always believed that this is his best. While most people would pick a different Kubrick masterpiece (whether it be 2001, Dr. Strangelove, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, etc.), I feel that this powerful, tight, relentless anti-war film is the most complete film in Kubrick's oeuvre, and the closest he ever got to perfection. The trench warfare scenes are unbelieveable, the set design is magnificent, and the acting is universally solid, including Kirk Douglas in what I believe was his best performance, and Adolph Menjou perfectly capturing all the nuances of a truly evil general. The execution scene is one of the most emotionally wringing sequences in the history of cinema.

And there you have it. The ten movies I simply couldn't live without.

Reaching a Poker Milestone

2009-06-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

Every time I am in Las Vegas, I make sure to play at least one poker tournament at the Sahara. This is where I played in my first poker tournament four and a half years ago. The buy-in is cheap, the structure is fair, and the tournaments are usually filled with good players.

Last night, I played in the 11:00 p.m. tournament. Even though we are not staying at the Sahara, going over there to play in the tournament is like coming home, someplace that has become so familiar and comforting that it feels like I belong there. Despite that, I have never made the final table at the Sahara. I've come tantalizingly close a number of times, but never quite made it over the hump.

Until last night, or rather I should say, this morning. I started off well, playing my usual game, not entering a whole lot of pots, waiting for good starting hands. When I did enter the pot, I played aggressively. At the first break, I had built my stack from four thousand chips to fifteen thousand. I didn't even bother to do a re-buy.

As the game wore on, I would move down in chips and then come up with a big hand to stay afloat. With the blinds at 400/800, I limped in with KQ offsuit. No one raised. The flop came KQ7, rainbow. One guy bet out 2000 chips, I raised when it got to me. Everyone else folded, he re-raised me all in, and I called. This guy inexplicably had K4, obviously thinking he had the nuts (the best hand). Wrong. I knocked him out and doubled my stack.

Much later in the tournament, there was about 14 players left, and I was scuffling not to get knocked out. I looked down at KJ suited in hearts. The player to the right of me went all-in. It was the best starting hand I had seen in a while, so I did the same thing. The big stack at the table, a complete donkey who went all in with any two cards, also went all in. The guy to the right of me had K10, and the donkey had Q10. No queen or 10 showed up, so I won a huge pot and tripled up.

From there, I managed to hold on until the decent cards stopped coming and I began to get blinded out. My last stand was pathetic as I was forced to go all in with only a 45 suited. Not surprisingly, I lost (to only a 10-5) and I got knocked out in 6th place. It was 3:50 a.m. You know you've done well and earned respect when you make a final table, get knocked out, and the other players shake your hand as you get up to leave. I didn't feel bad whatsoever when I got knocked out. I would have loved to win the whole thing, but it was just not going to happen. I felt triumphant, satisfied, and very, very tired.

The irony of this whole thing is that right now, they are playing the World Series of Poker down the street at the Rio. My game has gotten so good and my confidence is so high right now that I wish I had the opportunity to play there this year, I really think I could have done well. I long to get back to the WSOP, and it has become my dream and my goal. Oh well, maybe next year.

For today, I find great comfort in the fact that, after many, many attempts, I have finally made a final table at the Sahara. Yeah, baby!!!

Nickel Bag Joe and Candy Andy

2009-05-16T08:02:00.000-07:00

I live in Maricopa County, the third largest county by population in the nation. Basically, it encompasses the Phoenix metropolitan area. Phoenix is now the fifth largest city in the nation, with a metro area of probably close to five million people. It is by and large a conservative strongpoint, with a long history of Conservative leaders with names like Goldwater, Rhenquist and McCain.

It should be a place which celebrates diversity and cultural significance. Instead, it is more and more becoming a police state ruled by two despicable, petty tyrants. Nickel Bag Joe is the alternative media's nickname for County Sheriff Joe Arpaio. The self-proclaimed "toughest sheriff in the country", notorious for his Tent City jails, where convicted DUI offenders do their ten days in custody in large canvas tents, broiling in the 115 degree heat while they feast on green bologna sandwiches. They're criminals, right? We shouldn't care about them, right? That's what Nickel Bag Joe is always telling us.

Joe's latest crusade is a self-declared war on illegal immigrants. He has conducted sweeps of Hispanic neighborhoods, arresting illegals and citizens alike, while sorting out the mess later. His storm troopers recently raided the Mesa City Hall building on a fool's errand to arrest so-called illegal immigrants seeking refuge in the building. The reality was there were two illegal immigrants as part of the overnight work crew cleaning the building, but that didn't stop Joe from putting a force together of over 40 sheriff's deputies, who stormed the building during business hours, and detained both employees and citizens alike for no reason whatsoever.

Joe's buddy is Candy Andy, otherwise known as County Attorney Andrew Thomas. Thomas is an ultra-right wing Conservative, who has supported Arapaio to the point of attacking the judiciary. Thomas has declared war on the judges of Maricopa County Superior Court, and is notorious for refusing to show any discretion on cases whatsoever and prosecuting innocent people. Recently, a young black driver was hit by another car, driven by a 19 year-old rich white girl from Scottsdale, who had been drinking all day and was nearly three times over the legal limit. There was no question that she caused the accident, and one of her passengers was killed. The black driver fled the scene, admittedly a major mistake on his part, and he found himself charged with negligent homicide, although he was completely sober, had not caused the accident, and was the driver who had been hit by the other vehicle. The rich white girl? She was only charged with a DUI in municipal court. The media exploded over the case, but Nickel Bag Joe stuck by his deputies' "investigation", and Candy Andy prosecuted the case to the hilt. After two weeks in trial, the black driver was acquitted of all charges except for leaving the scene of an accident, a misdemeanor. He spent a year in jail waiting for his case to come to trial, feasting on Joe's green bologna.

Phoenix has a very brave alternative newspaper, the Phoenix New Times. They did a series of articles on Joe and Andy, very critical and very well-researched. They brought up questions about Joe's million-dollar home, supposedly purchased on his county salary. They questioned land deals, and speculative real estate transactions. What they got for their efforts was a subpoena from Andy and Joe, demanding financial records of the paper, of the paper's founder and chief editor, and get this, email addresses of every one who has ever logged onto the paper's website. That's right, any person who dared to read the New Times online would now be on a list shared by Joe and Andy. Are you kidding me? Is this still America?

The two head honchos at the New Times were outraged by the subpoena and published it online. The result of that was their arrests during the middle of the night, by about a dozen sheriff's deputies each. It must have been the first time in American history that two journalists were arrested in the dead of night by a raiding squad of a dozen deputies and taken to jail for a misdemeanor. It was all over the media the next day, even making the national media, and by the end of the day, Candy Andy called a press conference, blaming the "error" on one of his lackeys, and stated that the charges would be dismissed, and the journalists released.

The real horror of the Joe and Andy show lies in what happens inside Joe's jails. Scores of people have been seriously injured, and even killed, inside the jails. Security and protection are a joke, and the taxpayers have been forced to foot the bill for the numerous wrongful death and abuse lawsuits filed by enraged citizens. I understand that people who drive drunk are a menace and need to serve their time, but do they do deserve to be killed or seriously beaten? One horror story I have read told about a mentally handicapped young man, falsely accused of aggravated assault, who was beaten and eventually killed by other inmates, all under the watchful eyes of Joe's henchmen. After the horrifying murder, the County Attorney's Office admitted that the young man was innocent, the initial crime was committed by another person, and the young man should never have been arrested in the first place. I'll bet his parents felt real good hearing that.

The frightening thing is that Arpaio and Thomas are seemingly untouchable. They do what they want, when they want, and no one has the stones to stop them. We keep waiting for the federal government to step in and stop this horrifying abuse of power, but it never happens. And, of course, the conservative yahoo voters of this county recently re-elected these two monsters. It's simply unbelieveable.

Welcome to Phoenix.

For the second year in a row.....

2009-04-05T16:37:00.000-07:00

I've gotten one of the best birthday presents I could wish for, a Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band concert. Last year, I had to go to Anaheim for it, and when I got back to the hotel, the clock struck midnight, and I was 50 years old. This year, Bruce actually came to Phoenix, or Glendale, to be precise, and my birthday won't be until Wednesday. No matter, an early birthday present like this is just fine.

If I am going to be 51, that means Bruce Springsteen is going to be 59 and frankly, I just don't see how he does it. He performed for two hours and forty-five minutes Friday night, without an intermission. He sang, he played guitar, he prowled the stage, he came out into the audience, he slid on the stage and in general, performed his ass off. The man is simply incredible, and so is his band.

The setlist was eclectic, with five songs from the new album, some old warhorses (Badlands, Promised Land, Born to Run, Out in the Street), three songs from The Rising, and a bunch of tunes I never thought I would hear again (Seeds, Johnny 99, Downbound Train). He took requests, and treated us to blistering versions of Because the Night and Rosalita. He once again transformed The Ghost of Tom Joad into a blistering, powerful piece of musical drama, with Nils Lofgren shining on a wonderful guitar solo. Outlaw Pete, from the new album, was turned into an audio/visual epic with projected video of Monument Valley scrawling across the screen behind the band. I didn't want it to end.

The band is as tight and powerful as ever. Lofgren and violinist Soozie Tyrell are featured predominantly in this setlist and they did not disappoint. The Mighty Max Weinberg on drums (taking a sabbatical from the Conan O'Brien show) and Gary Tallent on bass are still one of the best rhythm sections in all of rock. Professor Roy Bittan can still tinkle the ivories, and new keyboardist Charlie Giordano did a fine job filling in for the late Danny Federici. The Big Man may be older and frailer, but he can still crank out the sax solos, and is still beloved by the legions of Bruce fans. Bruce's foil on stage is once again Little Steven Van Zandt, and although I can never look at him any longer without thinking of The Sopranos, Steve was great throughout. All in all, the E Street Band remains one of the most talented rock bands still performing.

So once again, for the second year in a row, all I can say is thank you, Bruce, for a fantastic birthday present. And thanks for allowing me to merely drive across town, and allow my wife, brother, sister, and sister-in-law to join me, instead of forcing me to drive 400 miles to the Land of the Mouse to experience you and the band. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

The NCAA Tournament

2009-03-23T19:01:00.000-07:00

There are several reasons why the NCAA Tournament is one of the biggest sporting events of the year. First, there is the fact that 65 teams make the field every year, including the conference champions of every Division I conference in the country. That's why a college such as Cleveland State, which would never seriously be in the discussion of the national championship, gets to enter and try to run the table. The result is a tremendous build-up of fan interest all over the country. Second, there are the bracket pools. Everyone and their brother fills out a bracket and enters an office pool, convinced that this year they will be the grand winner. And every year, the pool is won by some non-fan who picks the winners based on their nicknames, or mascots, or where he/she went to college/grew up/got married/honeymooned, etc. etc. The resulting interest in this tournament by the non-sports fan has resulted in a complete explosion of this sporting event's popularity.

Most colleges or universities are located in small towns or medium-sized cities, and not the major urban centers. Sure, there are plenty of major colleges and universities in the great cities of this country, but most are elsewhere. Which is why places like Tucson, Arizona, Durham, North Carolina, and Lawrence, Kansas live for this tournament. It has truly become one of the great American spectacles. And with that introduction, let me post a few words about this year's tournament.

I think this is the first time since the tournament expanded to 64/65 teams that every single number one, two, and three seed won their first two games and landed in the Sweet Sixteen. If nothing else, that's a testament to the fantastic job done by this year's Selection Committee. Every year, the Committee comes under fire for some of their selections. This year, the biggest criticism came for the inclusion of my beloved Arizona Wildcats, an appearance which kept alive the Cats' streak of consecutive tournament appearances at 25 years, the second-longest streak in NCAA history. Even yours truly initially questioned the decision, although once I examined the schedule and the impressive wins over some quality top-25 teams (Kansas, Gonzaga, Washington, UCLA), I agreed with their inclusion. And the Cats have made good on that decision, dominating a tough Utah team in the first round and beating a very game Cleveland State team (which in turn had ousted Wake Forrest in the first round). The Wildcats never trailed in either game and won both by double digits. Not bad for a 12th seed, the only one still standing. Not only that, the Pac-10 sent six teams to the Big Dance this year, and the only one left is the Arizona Wildcats. So there, Dick Vitale, put that in your pipe and smoke it, I guess you were wrong, although you'll never admit it.

Syracuse looks like a Final Four team. They disposed of a very tough Arizona State team pretty handily, and made James Harden, the Pac-10 player of the year, a complete non-factor. It wouldn't surprise me if at least two, and maybe three, Big East teams made the Final Four. Any of the group of Connecticut, Syracuse, Pittsburgh, or Villanova are good enough to get there.

It's no longer an upset or a Cinderella story to see Gonzaga once again in the Sweet Sixteen. Mark Few has built a dynasty at this little school in Washington state. They have a tough draw with North Carolina, but they just might pull off the upset. However, with Ty Law back in action, UNC has to be one of the favorites to make it to the Final Four. The Zags will have their hands full.

Connecticut seems to be the best all-around team. They are playing in the West Regional in Phoenix (or Glendale, to be exact), and the last two times they did that, they won the National Championship. On paper, they seem way too much for Purdue to handle, and should then beat the winner of the Missouri-Memphis game.

The East Regional could feature a regional final pitting Big East Conference foes Pittsburgh and Villanova, although you can never underestimate Coach K's (I refuse to try to spell his full name) Duke Blue Devils. Despite their pedigree, I think Villanova gets past them. Assuming Pitt beats Xavier, the resulting Pitt-Villanova game should be a dogfight. Flip a coin, I won't even try to predict who would win that game, although my bracket says Villanova.

Then there's the Midwest Regional. My heart says the Arizona Wildcats will upset Louisville, and then the winner of Michigan State-Kansas. There's even precedent for it, in 1997, the Wildcats were the fifth place team in the Pac-10 conference regular season, and then knocked off the number one team in that tournament (Kansas) in the Sweet Sixteen on their way to their only national championship. Of course, my brain says "what have you been smoking?" I actually think the Cinderella story of the Wildcats will end on Friday, while Michigan State will upset Kansas, only to lose to Louisville. My Final Four prediction is Louisville, Connecticut, Villanova and North Carolina, with Louisville beating North Carolina in the Championship game. Too bad I didn't submit that bracket in any office pool.

Happy Birthday

2009-02-12T14:17:00.000-08:00

Today we are celebrating the bicentennial of the birth of one of the greatest Americans, one of my all-time heroes, and the man I believe was the greatest American president, Abraham Lincoln. Everyone knows Lincoln's story, and everyone knows about his presidency. We can only imagine what our country would be like today if not for Lincoln; two separate Americas, side by side, or would further strife have created more civil wars, and even more smaller nation-states? How much longer would it have taken to end slavery, and how much more bloodshed would that have cost?

One of the issues I hear about today is the deconstruction of the Lincoln myth, and I like that a great deal. Lincoln wasn't saintly or God-like, he was a man, nothing more. He didn't like black people and definitely thought they were inferior to whites, but he was adamantly opposed to any person being owned by any other person. He made mistakes, and his suspension of habeas corpus during the Civil War would probably have gotten him impeached today. He was far from perfect, but he was a man of ideals, and principles, and he wasn't afraid to stand up for what is right. He saved the Union, and for that he shall always be honored and revered.

One of my favorite places to visit in Washington is the Lincoln Memorial. Every time I've been there, I've been awestruck by the statue. A feeling comes over me that can't be described, and I'm not the only one, people speak in hushed tones while they are there, and I have often seen people cry as they look up at Lincoln's face. It is hallowed ground.

183 years after Lincoln was born, another significant birth took place on this day, not one that is known by many people and certainly not one that is celebrated by the nation, but one that is important to me.

Happy Birthday, Abe. Happy Birthday, Jennifer.

Michael Phelps

2009-02-09T07:56:00.000-08:00

It was just a few short months ago that Michael Phelps was being hailed as a hero and role model. He was the All-American boy, the Olympic champion, the sort of young man that made Americans proud. Today, Monday morning, February 9, 2009, he is still all of those things.

Everyone knows that Michael Phelps was photographed smoking marijuana from a bong at a college party. For that, he has been suspended from competitive swimming and vilified across the nation. The local sheriff is looking at prosecuting him criminally. He has lost endorsements and has been knocked off the pantheon. All because he wanted to get high at a college party, like so many other young Americans.

I'm glad this has happened to Michael Phelps, not because I wish him any ill will, but because it is time to stop this ridiculous madness. Yes, I'm talking about the most stupid, costly, and morally reprehensible social policy since alcohol prohibition, the prohibition against marijuana. I'm not talking about hard drugs, or even other drugs, I'm talking strictly about marijuana.

How much money is spent by our government every year to fight the ridiculous and futile war against marijuana use and consumption? How many billions of dollars? Ever thought about what that money could be used for in this debilitating economy if our government would only get reasonable and legalize marijuana?

Think about it, not only would the government save billions of dollars wasted by fighting this stupid war, but if marijuana was legalized, and heavily taxed, it would bring another significant source of revenue to our failing economy. It would put many criminals out of business, it would free up jail and prison space currently being occupied by non-violent marijuana offenders. It makes so much sense that it sickens me that our government refuses to consider it.

Is this what the majority of Americans want? Well, how many states have voted in favor of medical marijuana use in the last few years? Ever thought about how many Americans would vote in favor of legalizing recreational use of marijuana? Ever wonder how many otherwise law-abiding citizens of this country break the law by smoking marijuana in the privacy of their own homes? Can someone give me a rational explanation of why there should be a law against a tax-paying, otherwise law-abiding citizen, coming home from work after a long hard day, and enjoying a blunt in the privacy of his own home? When did we authorize the government of our nation to decide what we can do in the privacy of our own homes? Where is that in the Constitution?

Sure, I've heard all the arguments against pot legalization: it's a gateway drug, it would lead to legalization of other drugs, people would toke up and drive, etc. Look, I'm not advocating getting high and driving, if you're driving under the influence from alcohol or drugs, you're a danger to anyone and everyone. You deserve to be arrested and suffer the consequences. No, I'm talking about people being allowed to get high in the comfort and safety of their own homes.

I don't believe marijuana is a gateway drug, any more than alcohol is a gateway drug. It's true that hard drug users often start off using pot and alcohol, but no one is advocating making alcohol illegal for that reason, so why should pot be different? Millions of people drink alcohol or smoke dope, and never try anything else. The gateway drug argument is a myth, nothing more.

As far as legalization of other drugs, that's a different issue for a different day. There are plenty of cogent reasons why drugs such as meth and crack are illegal. One only has to view the devestation caused by these drugs to understand the justification of their being illegal. There is none of that with marijuana. It's apples and oranges.

Finally, there is the seperate issue of medical marijuana. It's been proven medically that marijuana is the most effective drug in dealing with the effects of glaucoma, and has medicinal value in dealing with the side effects of cancer radiation therapy, not to mention muscle spasticity. The medical community supports legalization for medicinal purposes. The people of my state, Arizona, have voted several times in favor of medical legalization, yet our "wise" elected leaders have basically told us that they know better than we do, and will not implement it. Who the hell died and made them God? There is nothing more condescending than the government treating us like we don't have any idea of what is good or bad for us; treating us like stupid children, in other words. I always thought this nation was better than that.

I hope the major consequence of Michael Phelps' experience is that legalization once again becomes a nation-wide discussion and leads to government action. It is time, and it's what the American people want, maybe not every single American, but the vast majority. With the economy falling apart more and more every day, it only makes sense.

Academy Award snubs

2009-02-05T08:38:00.000-08:00

The Academy Award nominations were announced a couple of weeks ago. It's not that I haven't noticed, I've just been so wrapped up in the Arizona Cardinals' run to the Super Bowl that I haven't had a chance to blog about it. Like most years when the nominations have been announced, I haven't yet seen most of the nominated films. And now, since I've started my nation-wide boycott of movie theaters, I won't be seeing most of the films until they come out on DVD, well after the Academy Awards are decided.

Therefore, today's post is not so much about Academy Award snubs from this year's list of nominations, but all-time snubs. Specifically, I'm talking about films and performances that were snubbed from receiving a nomination, not those that were nominated and failed to win. In my opinion, the nomination is good enough, and the lack of a nomination in the examples I will give below are pretty much incomprehensible. So, in no particular order, here are my all-time Academy Award nomination snubs:

1. Humphrey Bogart---"Treasure of the Sierra Madre", 1948

No one can deny what a great actor Bogart was, even now, 50 years after his death. His classic films are still classics, and can be found regularly on Turner Movie Classics, as they should be. So why in the world was he snubbed for his all-time greatest performance? Was it because it was so atypical for him and nothing like any other role he played? Bogie's performance as Fred C. Dobbs, the down-and-out drifter in Mexico who finds gold with his two partners, and loses his mind, and later his life, in the process, is simply stupendous. In the beginning of the film, he is a likeable loser, someone down on his luck, but not a bad person at all. Finding and mining the gold transforms him into a paranoid, greedy, dangerous psychopath, a process that happens gradually. Bogie is superb in making that transition appear natural and believeable. His monologues about conscience after he shoots his buddy, Curtin, are mesemerizing. It's one of the few times that you can watch a Bogart film, and believe it's not Bogie up there on the screen, it's actually Fred C. Dobbs. He deserved an Academy Award for his performance (he had only been nominated one time, for "Casablanca", at that point in his career), and the fact that he didn't even get nominated was criminal.

2. James Cagney---"White Heat", 1949

Cagney's performances came basically in two categories; the snarling gangster with the moves of a ballet dancer ("Angels with Dirty Faces", "The Roaring Twenties", "The Public Enemy", to name just a few) or the Irish actor/song and dance man ("Yankee Doodle Dandy", being the best example). "White Heat" was a variation of the snarling gangster genre. Cagney played Cody Jarrett, a snarling gangster with deep psychological problems, an Oedipus complex of monumental proportions, suffering from debilitating migraine headaches and a cheating, untrustworthy wife. Through it all, Cagney is simply tremendous. Two scenes stand out above the rest. The first shows Cagney in prison, learning that his mother has been murdered, and slowly boiling over, eventually going beserk in reaction, punching out fellow inmates and prison guards alike as he is finally subdued and carried off to the prison hospital. The second standout scene is the towering finale, as Cagney is on top of a gigantic oil tank, surrounded by dozens of other oil tanks, as the law is closing in on him. Watch Cagney deliver his final line, "Made it, Ma, top of the world!!", as only he could, and you will understand perfection in film acting. Inexplicably, Cagney was not nominated for this magnificent performance.

3. Paul Giamatti---"Sideways", 2004

Probably no contemporary actor in Hollywood today is as underrated and consistently snubbed as Paul Giamatti. Is it because he's not a hunky, traditionally-handsome leading man? It's baffling. Giamatti's performance as Miles, the English teacher/would-be author and wine conoisseur is entrancing. Giamatti is both likeable and detestable as he plays a flawed, but basically good, man trying to make something of himself. His relationships with both his buddy, Jack, and the waitress he is attracted to, Maya, are complex and anything but smooth and Giamatti is superb in his scenes with them. Giamatti also nails the scenes where is supposed to be drunk, not as simple a feat as it may seem. He inhabits the role of Miles, and he is eminently watchable. I think it's one of the best performances of the last decade, and yet, no nomination.

4. Samuel L. Jackson---"Jungle Fever", 1991

One of these days, Samuel L. Jackson will win an Academy Award. How can he not? The guy is simply a tremendous, towering, powerful actor. In a film full of magnificent performances, his was the standout in "Pulp Fiction". He received a nomination for that film, but for some reason he was overlooked for "Jungle Fever", the performance that put him on the map. Jackson plays Gator, the crack addict brother of Wesley Snipes in Spike Lee's powerful drama. His performance is unbelieveable and heartbreaking. He should have been nominated for a supporting Oscar (as should Halle Berry, unrecognizable as his equally crack-addicted girlfriend).

5. "Do the Right Thing", 1989

How in the world did this movie not get nominated for Best Picture? Spike Lee's powerful depiction of a blistering hot summer day in a racially charged Brooklyn neighborhood is one of the most intelligent, searing indictments of race relations ever put on film. The performances are superb, the screenplay is poignant, and the final film is mesmerizing. Lee was robbed.

6. "Some Like it Hot", 1959

Today, Billy Wilder's comic masterpiece is universally regarded as one of the great comedies of all time. It is timeless, as funny now as it was fifty years ago (Good Lord, is this movie really 50 years old??!!). Fabulous performances by Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in drag, George Raft and Pat O'Brien as the scary old gangster and the old cop chasing him, and a simply luminous, legendary performance by Marilyn Monroe make this a timely classic. It should have been nominated for Best Picture.

7. "Singin' in the Rain", 1952

Most people regard "Singin' in the Rain" as the best movie musical of all time. The singing and dancing is great (Donald O'Connor's "Make em Laugh" number is simply amazing), the screenplay is witty and funny, and the film entertainingly tells the story of the time when Hollywood transitioned from silent films to talkies. Gene Kelly is a wonder to behold in this movie, and his "Singin' in the Rain" number is one of the greatest scenes in all of Hollywood history. No nomination for Best Picture, are you kidding me?

8. Orson Welles---"Touch of Evil", 1959

I've written about this film before on this blog (See Charlton Heston, RIP), and there's no need to go into all of it again. Simply put, Welles' performance as crooked cop Hank Quinlan is one of the all-time great performances in one of the all-time great films of cinema. Of course, by the time this film was made, Welles was a pariah and outcast of Hollywood, so it's not surprising that he wasn't nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar. It's still highway robbery.

9. "The Dark Knight", 2009

How in the name of sport do you explain this one, oh great Academy of Arts and Sciences? Is it because the film is a comic book movie, or a summer blockbuster, or the second-highest grossing film in history? None of that should matter. "The Dark Knight" is a brilliant movie, with one of the greatest performances of all time (Heath Ledger is a lock to win the Oscar as the Joker), an intelligent story, and a tremendous production. Its exclusion from the list of Best Picture nominees is inexplicable.

10. Bruce Springsteen, "The Wrestler", Best Song, 2009

Let's see, Bruce wins the Golden Globe for this great song, it is the final coda of his wonderful new CD, "Working on a Dream", he is fresh off a terrific performance at the Super Bowl halftime show, and he is about to embark on a world-wide tour. Sure, I know, let's snub him for an Academy Award nomination. Ridiculous.

Well, there you have it, my top ten list, if you will. I'm sure I've left some horrific snubs out, so hopefully this post will generate some comments and spark my memory of Academy Award terrible mistakes and omissions. Isn't this more fun than watching the Pittsburgh Steelers win another Super Bowl?

Bummer

2009-02-02T10:01:00.000-08:00

Many people are calling it the best Super Bowl ever. Most are calling it the best fourth quarter of any Super Bowl, and one of the best comebacks of all time. In time, I'm sure I will be proud of the fact that the Cardinals reached down deep, looked the big bad Steelers in the eye, came up with an epic comeback in the fourth quarter, taking the lead with two and a half minutes left, and came oh so close to pulling off one of the greatest upsets in Super Bowl history. Today, however, I am only bummed.

It would have been so much easier if the Cardinals had merely folded the tent and tucked their tails between their legs after that devestating interception return at the end of the first half. It was a potential fourteen point swing, and many teams would have been finished after a turn of events like that.

But it didn't quite happen that way. The Steelers were on their way to what would have been a game-clinching touchdown late in the third quarter. It would have been all over, and I would have comforted myself with the satisfaction of an amazing playoff run and a Super Bowl appearance for the Cardinals. It would have been more than enough, and I would have been OK today.

But no, the Cardinals had to come up with one of the all-time great goal line stands, having to stop the Steelers twice because of a penalty, six plays that went nowhere, forcing Pittsburgh to kick a field goal and keep the Cards within two touchdowns. As if it was a jump start to the offense, suddenly Kurt Warner began to find Larry Fitzgerald, who had been pretty much invisible for the first three quarters. The Cardinals drove down the field, culminating with Warner's toss in the end zone, which Fitzgerald amazingly caught, to make the score 20-14.

The Steelers got the ball back, and not only did the Cardinals stop them, but came up with a safety as well, to make the score 20-16. And then came the play that should have been destined to be the legendary game-and-championship-winning play, a Warner pass to Fitzgerald, where Fitz outran the Steelers defense for a 60-yard touchdown play, and the Cardinals' first lead of the game with two and a half minutes left. In my house, we were screaming and crying. My throat is still sore.

And then, as if to prove that it is never easy for my teams, the Cardinals defense could not pressure Ben Roethlisberger on the next drive and the Steelers drove down the field and scored an amazing touchdown. In time, I believe Santonio Holmes' touchdown catch, over three Cardinal defenders, placed by Roethlisberger in a spot that only Holmes could catch, with Holmes playing a perfect tip-toe balancing act at the edge of the sideline to stay in bounds, will be regarded as one of the best plays in any Super Bowl, always assuming that it hasn't already reached that lofty status. As a football fan, it was thrilling to watch. As a Cardinal fan, it was devestating.

There will come a time when I will only think about the wonderful things achieved by the Cardinals this year. They are one of my favorite teams of all time and I will always cherish their accomplishments. But today, all I can feel is hurt and pain. The Cardinals can hold their heads high, they came oh so close. But the bottom line is they lost the game. It turns out that potential fourteen point swing with the interception at the end of the first half was too much to overcome after all. Bummer.

Oh well, at least it was the best halftime show of any Super Bowl.

The Boss is all over the place.....and other random thoughts

2009-01-31T07:22:00.000-08:00

All of a sudden, as if this were October , 1975, all over again, Bruce Springsteen is everywhere and anywhere. For those of you who don't understand the significance of the October '75 reference, that was when a young Springsteen found himself on the covers of Newsweek and Time magazines. For someone who was not a political leader or had won a Nobel prize, it was quite a feat.

Now, I turn on the TV and Bruce and the band are giving a pre-Super Bowl press conference. The local classic rock radio station is blasting non-stop commercials for tickets to the upcoming Springsteen concert in Glendale, which go on sale Monday morning. There seems to be as much hype for Bruce's halftime performance in tomorrow's big game, as there is for the game itself. And, oh yes, there just happens to be a new CD out by Bruce and the band, titled "Working on a Dream," which, while maybe not quite as good as "Magic" and "The Rising", is still quite a good album. The renaissance of The Boss, starting with "The Rising" and the subsequent tour in 2002, continues, and is still in full force.

Your humble narrator, of course, is totally geeked by all this. I picked up the new album on Wednesday and have listened to it about a dozen times. I highly recommend it. Not only that, I've pulled "Magic" out and listened to that as well, marvelling all over again at its sustained excellence. Mrs. Brucefan and I will be going to the Glendale show in April, and of course, I'm looking forward to the halftime show tomorrow. How many rockers from the 70's are still putting out exciting and relevant new material, and touring all over the world, as well? Go ahead, let's hear some names. The Boss continues to blow me away, even after 34 years of loyal fandom. The man is amazing.

Speaking of tomorrow's game, once again the Cardinals are the underdog, not getting much love or respect from the national pundits. Good, that seems to be the way the Cards like it. Keep that chip squarely on your shoulder, Warner and company, and play like you're pissed off and out to prove something. It's certainly worked so far. Here's hoping the Cinderella story reaches a joyous conclusion. Go Cardinals, shock the world one more time!

And, finally, after several months of being in a sustained poker slump, I played in a no-limit Texas Hold'em tournament last night with 90 or so participants. I made the final table and finished ninth. Overall, I was pleased with my performance, although perhaps a little more aggression on my part may have resulted in a higher finish. I think that's a good sign of my progress as a poker player. While I can appreciate a ninth place final table performance, I'm not quite satisfied and think I could have done better. But it'll do for now.

Boycott Movie Theaters

2009-01-27T08:36:00.000-08:00

I am starting a nation-wide boycott of movie theaters. Last weekend, I took my wife and three teenage children to see "Revolutionary Road" at a local theater. The tickets were $9.50 each, we also got two small sodas, a medium popcorn, a package of M&M's, and a package of sour patch kids candy. The total came to $70.00. That is beyond ridiculous.

When did movies become so expensive? And when did we allow ourselves to be so ripped off by the ridiculous prices for drinks/slash food? For the same price I paid for a small soda, I can walk into a Fry's grocery store and buy a twelve-pack. The seats were uncomfortable, the print of the film was far from perfect, and the floor was sticky. This is absurd. We have become a nation of stupid consumers, willingly paying ridiculous prices for two hours of mediocre entertainment. To quote a great movie from the late 70's, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!"

I say it's time to act. Despite my life-long love of movies, I will personally not see another movie in a theater until the prices come down. The only way we can expect change is if every single person agrees, and joins my boycott of movie theaters. Believe me, if people stop going to the movies, things will change. If not, a trip to the local movie theater will continue to be a major rip-off.

Join my boycott. Don't go to the movies until things change. Movie-lovers of the world, unite!!

A January to remember

2009-01-21T15:02:00.000-08:00

The nation will always remember January, 2009 as the month of Barack Obama's inauguration. 233 years after the nation was created and 146 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, a black man has been sworn in to "preserve, protect and defend" the Constitution of the United States as our 44th President. It was a momentous occasion, highlighted by an excellent speech from our new President, and the sight of two million Americans, braving the freezing temperatures to be part of the moment. The images of the throngs of people, lined all the way up to the Washington Monument and beyond, was stirring. If you've ever walked the Mall, you know that's quite a distance, and it appeared as nothing less than a sea of people.

There's a stirring in this nation today, a feeling that we are embarking on a new course, with a dynamic new leader at the helm. Despite the recession in which we are mired, there is a sense of hope. People feel positive and good today, and speak of a promising future. Optimism prevails, negativity is on hold, and it's an exciting time to be an American.

So, I almost feel shallow and pathetic when I also state that it is an exciting time to be an Arizonan, not just because of Obama and the promise he projects, but because of our professional football team. Yes, something as silly and irreverent as our NFL team, the Cardinals, has all of a sudden given the people of our state pride and joy.

I suppose you really have to live here to understand it. We are the 48th state to have entered the Union, the very last state in the continental U.S., and in many ways we feel like the ugly stepchild. We have no ports, no waterfronts, no beaches, no major rivers other than the Colorado, which is pretty much un-navigable. We deal with ridiculous heat in the summer, and much of our state is made up of barren, open land. We have two major cities, including the fifth largest city in the nation, but when Americans think of great American cities, they name New York, and Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, New Orleans, Las Vegas, Boston, Denver, Dallas, Houston, Philadelphia. No one really thinks of Phoenix or Tucson, unless they have to be there for some reason or other.

Our football team has been a joke ever since they moved here from St. Louis 21 years ago. In that time, they have made the playoffs once, winning one game in Dallas, and then losing. That was ten years ago. Most seasons, they are 2-6 (or worse) by the midway point. It doesn't matter who the players are, or who the coach is, or what sort of success they've had elsewhere, they have come to Phoenix and they have sucked. Very few Arizonans have ever talked about the Cardinals with anything resembling pride.

Suddenly, all that has changed. I've written previously about this season, how the Cardinals won their division over three other teams with losing records, how they were trounced and blown out by Philadelphia, Minnesota, and New England after they had already clinched their playoff spot, and how the national media called them one of the worst playoff teams ever, with virtually no chance of winning a game in the postseason.

It's become obvious now that the team rallied around all that negativity, took it to heart, looked deep within themselves, and played outstanding football. They upset Atlanta in the first round, then played on the road at Carolina and beat the Panthers, dominating them in an absolutely stunning display. They suddenly found themselves hosting the Philadelphia Eagles in the NFC Championship game this past Sunday. Once again, nobody (except Terry Bradshaw, of all people) gave them a chance.

The Cardinals were tremendous in the first half. They dominated Philadelphia on both sides of the ball, and played mistake-free football. Larry Fitzgerald, the one player the Eagles knew they had to stop, scored three (yes, three) touchdowns. Quarterback Kurt Warner was almost perfect, and Edgerrin James broke off ten yard runs like he did six years ago. The score at halftime was 24-6 Cardinals, and the sports world had to be in shock.

The Eagles, however, were far too good to just lay down and quit. They adjusted at halftime, stopped Warner and Fitzgerald, and began to click on offense. Quarterback Donovan McNabb led them on three touchdown drives, and as the game went into the fourth quarter, the Eagles led 25-24. The Phoenix crowd, which had been delirious for most of the game, was stunned. Uh-oh, here it comes, the same old Cardinal choke. Hey, I thought it, we all thought it, we've had 21 years of it.

But that's not what happened. The Cardinals got the ball with ten minutes left, and Warner led them on a methodical drive down the field. Fitzgerald picked up a key first down, and made another sensational catch to give the Cards a third and one. But the key moments of this drive belonged to Tim Hightower, the young back tabbed to take over for Edgerrin James. It was fourth and one, just over the 50 yard line, when coach Ken Whisenhunt elected to go for it. Warner handed off to Hightower, who ran toward the right sideline, got around an Eagles defender who was blocked perfectly by the tight end and made the first down. After Fitzgerald's second catch of the drive gave the Cards a third and one at the twelve yard line, Hightower was given the ball again, and gained four yards to set up a first and goal. And then three plays later, on third and goal, Warner tossed a screen pass to Hightower, who hesitated, allowing his blockers to do their job, and then banged his way into the end zone with just under three minutes left. Warner was perfect on the two point conversion, and it was delirium in Univeristy of Phoenix Stadium.

The Eagles got the ball back and after making two first downs, McNabb missed his next four passes, and it was all over. The Cardinals had to punt with 15 seconds left, but the Eagles never got past the 20 yard line, and the game was over. The Cardinals had shocked the world, they had won the NFC Championship, and were going to the Super Bowl for the first time ever. It was a surreal moment, and I had tears in my eyes. I'm sure I wasn't the only one in Arizona.

It took two days to get over the shock and allow the reality to sink in. It's all anyone is talking about. Six million Arizonans, most of whom couldn't have given a rat's you-know-what about the Cardinals a month ago, are walking around now with goofy smiles on their faces. We are proud of our team, and we are proud of our state, not to mention proud of ourselves. It defines what sports is about: a colossal underdog bucking the odds, believed in only by themselves and a few loyal fans, shocking the world and playing like champions. Some people are saying they have to win the Super Bowl to put the dot on the exclamation point. Maybe, maybe not. Right now, it feels like they are champions already. It's historic and exciting. It's why I love sports so much, along with so many other millions of fans.

Go Cardinals.

Pinch me, I must be dreaming

2009-01-11T13:21:00.000-08:00

The last time I wrote about football, the Jets had choked away their chance to get into the playoffs, and the Cardinals were in free fall. It seemed that as soon as the Cardinals clinched their division, they lost all focus and desire. They were manhandled by Philadelphia on Thanksgiving night, obliterated by the Vikings at home, and embarassed at New England in a snowstorm, 47-7. Despite winning their last regular season game over Seattle to finish 6-0 against their division foes, the Cardinals were generally regarded as the worst of all the playoff teams, and perhaps one of the worst ever. Every so-called expert predicted they would be one and done.

The first round game was at home a week ago today in University of Phoenix Stadium against Atlanta. The Falcons had a fierce running game, led by Michael Turner, the league leader in rushing, and a hot rookie at quarterback, Matt Ryan. And then a funny thing happened. The home crowd was raucous, the Cards found a running game behind Edgerrin James, the defense stifled the Atlanta ground attack and harassed Ryan all day, Kurt Warner played mistake-free football, and both "all-world" wide receivers, Larry Fitzgerald and Anquan Boldin, scored touchdowns. The Cardinals pulled off the upset and sent Atlanta packing. The Valley, as we call ourselves here in the metro Phoenix area, went nuts.

The euphoria was to be short-lived, however, as next up was the Carolina Panthers. Again, the national experts, like Colin Cowherd, extolled the virtues of the Panthers, and gave the Cards no chance. The Cardinals, after all, had been 0-5 on the East Coast, and had been blown out in every game except one, which incidentally was against Carolina. The experts predicted a blowout. Well, they were right about that part.

Carolina got off to a strong start last night, going down the field on their first possession and scoring with ease. It looked like it was going to be a long night. But, on the next possession, the Cardinals forced a fumble when the ball was stripped out of Carolina quarterback Jake Delhomme's hands. Two plays later, Edgerrin James scored, and the game was tied.

Now, if you were told that after that play, one of the teams would intercept the other five times, and race out to a 27-7 halftime lead, you would bet that team was the Panthers, wouldn't you? And you would be wrong. Playing what was probably their best half of football in their entire history, the Cardinals destroyed the Panthers on defense, and dominated them on offense. By the time halftime came, the local fans were booing and the game was pretty much over. The defense held tight in the second half, and other than a meaningless touchdown in the final minute, Carolina was totally blanked. It will probably go down as one of the five or so biggest upsets in NFL playoff history. Final score: 33-13, Arizona.

And that brings us to today. The Philadelphia Eagles beat the big bad New York Giants in Giants Stadium, and so next Sunday, the NFC Conference game will be played in Glendale, AZ, where the home-team Cardinals will host the visiting Eagles in what, I suppose, will be dubbed the Battle of the Birds. Are you kidding me, or what? Two weeks ago, the national media had buried the Cardinals, and now they're hosting the NFC Championship? What in the world?

If you watch the Cardinals on a regular basis, like I have this season, you realize that the inexplicable part is how they managed to get so manhandled in so many games. As they have proven the last two weeks, they are a good team. When Kurt Warner is on, he is a future Hall of Famer, and if he can lead the Cards to a championship this year, he should be a lock for the Hall. Larry Fitzgerald is the best wide receiver in football, and Anquan Boldin (who didn't even play last night) just might be the second best. Edgerrin James is a proven future Hall of Fame running back, who has managed to play his way back into the game plan and be a factor in the two playoff wins so far. But it's the defense which has led the way. Ridiculed and overlooked at the start of the playoffs, they have dominated Atlanta and Carolina, the two best teams from the league's best division, the AFC South. Veterans like Darnel Docket, Antrelle Rolle, and Adrian Wilson have been outstanding. Rookie Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie has gotten better by the game, and he has had two momentum-changing interceptions in the two playoff wins. This is is a team with a chip on their shoulder, angry about the national lack of respect, and playing like they have something to prove. Clearly, they have proven it.

Next week's game is for the Super Bowl. The Cardinals, of course, have never been there. Actually, for that matter, they've never played in a conference championship game. The only championship they have ever won was long before the merger, back in 1947, two cities ago, when they played in Chicago. Ancient history.

The city of Phoenix is going to be jacked up all week. There will be an air of excitement like this town has never experienced, not even when the Diamondbacks won the World Series. This is all new for us, and we are loving every minute of it. I can't wait til next Sunday. Go Cardinals.

Good-bye 2008, and good riddance

2008-12-31T13:14:00.000-08:00

In ten hours from now, here in Arizona, we'll be ringing in the new year. I can hardly wait. Rarely has a year been so overwhelmingly brutal as this past year has been. I can think of one good thing that happened in the past year, and if you read my blog on a regular basis, you know I am referring to the election of Barack Obama. Everything else has sucked.

I turned 50 this year, a life event that should be joyous and rewarding. I should be basking in my career accomplishments, and saving for a greatly earned retirement. Instead, I am starting over, as financially strapped as I have ever been, a victim of my own arrogance, a putrid economy, and a despicable person who did much harm to me and my family.

Our nation is struggling through what can only be described as a depression, maybe not as enormous as the Great Depression of the '30's, but pretty devestating nevertheless. Thousands of people are losing their jobs every day, homes are being foreclosed at an alarming rate, businesses are failing, banks are closing. It's beyond frightening.

Then there's the ecological crisis our planet is experiencing, whether it's called global warming or not. The ice shelf is melting, the summers are hotter, the oceans are slowly evaporating, the storms/hurricanes/tornadoes/tsunamis are grandiose and murderous. Whether you believe Al Gore or not, it's hard to ignore the hard evidence.

I couldn't even get any enjoyment from sports this year, my favorite diversion. The Mets were in first place late in the season, yet collapsed for the second year in a row, and then watched in horror as the rival Phillies won the World Series. The Jets did a collapse even worse than the Mets, and I won't even waste any more words on that. The Arizona Wildcats basketball team was a soap opera, and the Diamondbacks were pathetic. No, sports provided no refuge from the misery.

There's just no getting around it, 2008 was a crappy year all around.

So here's to the New Year, 2009. May it bring joy and prosperity, may our new President begin the difficult climb out of the financial mess the out-going administration left him. May our economy begin to recover, and our nation get back on its feet. May Obama find a way to honorably bring our boys back home from Iraq, and may we, as a planet, find ways to halt the devestation we have wrought. And may my sports teams find a way to win, and not choke.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Just another collapse by a New York sports team

2008-12-30T10:17:00.000-08:00

By now, I'm sure that all you sports fans out there know that the Jets blew their chance at a playoff spot. After 11 games, at 8-3 they had a two game lead in their division. But they went
1-4 down the stretch (and were extremely lucky to even win that one game!), Brett Favre turned into "Bad Brett", Eric Mangini forgot how to coach, the defense forgot how to stop anyone, and the Jets lost to bad teams like the 49'ers and the Seahawks. The front office brass quickly responded by firing Mangini yesterday. They still professed to support Favre as quarterback, but there is strong indication that Favre's shoulder is injured and he may be done for good. I can only hope so.

The foundation is there for a quality football team. And the team did go from four wins last year to nine this year. But nothing can excuse the pitiful and devestating collapse. Wait, didn't I write something to that effect a few months ago when it was the Mets turn to collapse? What is it with New York teams? Are the expectations too high? Is the media too tough? Or do these teams just suck, and if they were in Kansas City, no one would notice or care?

At least the Jets had plenty of company. The Tampa Bay Bucs owned a 9-3 record, and needed only to win one more game to secure their division. They lost their last four in a row. The Denver Broncos seemingly had their division sewn up (after they beat the Jets in the Meadowlands), but they lost their last three in a row and allowed the 8-8 Chargers, who won their last four in a row to go from 4-8 to 8-8, to win their division with a .500 record. And then there's America's Team, the Dallas Cowboys, who many pundits picked for the Super Bowl. They lost their last two games, getting blown out by the Eagles in the season finale, to finish out of the playoffs. And, oh yes, everybody's pick for the team of the decade, the Patriots, somehow managed to win 11 games and still not make the playoffs. Seems like chokers were all over the NFL this season.

But, for me, none stings more than the Jets. It's been 40 long years since Broadway Joe Namath launched himself into immortality and stirred the likes of fans like me. When will it ever end? And did we really have to see Chad Pennington win the division for Miami in the Jets' home stadium? When do pitchers and catchers report for spring training?

Why am I not surprised?

2008-12-21T18:31:00.000-08:00

Disgusted? Absolutely. Pissed off? You betcha. But surprised? Not in the slightest. Of course, I'm talking about football, my two favorite teams in particular. The Jets and the Cardinals. My own personal house of horrors, my very own torture chamber.

Let's review. Only one month ago, the Jets, led by future Hall of Famer Brett Favre, had beaten the Patriots and then-unbeaten Tennessee in back-to-back games on the road. At 8-3, the Jets looked like the team to beat in the AFC and a possible Super Bowl contender. They led their division by a game over Miami and two games over New England.

The Cardinals stood at 7-4, needing one more win to clinch their hapless division. Kurt Warner was the "comeback kid" of the league, and the front-runner for the MVP. It was a time of giddiness and excitement.

The next weekend, the Jets lost a surprise game at home to Denver, a team that was struggling. No one took it to mean very much, even Favre was entitled to an off game. With Miami also losing, and New England winning, the Jets still owned an 8-4 record and a one game lead on both teams. The Cardinals played host to the Giants that weekend, and gave the best team in the league everything they had, and came oh so close to knocking them off. Instead, they lost, and clinching would have to wait another weekend.

The next weekend saw the Jets fly out to San Francisco to play the woeful 49'ers, one of the stinko teams in the Cards' division. If the Jets could win out, the division was theirs. Ah, but this is the Jets we're talking about, the team that has made its fans suffer for 40 years waiting for another Super Bowl. Sure enough, San Francisco inexplicably knocked them off, and the Jets found themselves now tied with both Miami and New England. Still, at 8-5, they owned the tie-breakers over both teams. All they had to do was win out over their last three games.

And the Cardinals? They played host to the pathetic St. Louis Rams, the team that quarterback Kurt Warner had taken to the Super Bowl, who had won only four games all season. The Cardinals continued to defend their home field, as they had done in every previous game, except the Giants' game. When the smoke cleared, they had beaten the Rams, and clinched their first division crown in decades. The city of Phoenix went nuts. Next up, the goal was strengthening their seed and gearing up for the playoffs.

Last Sunday was just plain ugly. The Jets hosted the Buffalo Bills, and did a great job of playing down to their opponent and making stupid mistakes and keeping the Bills in the game. Buffalo controlled the line of scrimmage, and spent the afternoon running the ball right through the Jets. With a little more than two minutes left, the Bills had the ball and the lead. All they had to do was keep pounding the run, gain a first down, and the Jets were toast. Inexplicably, Bills coach Dick Jauron called a pass play, the quarterback was sacked, fumbled the ball, and the Jets defender ran the fumble in for a game-winning touchdown. The fans went wild, and the Jets, now at 9-5, once more had their destiny in their own hands. Win the last two games, against pathetic Seattle, and then Miami, and the Jets win the AFC east.

The Cardinals played host to Minnesota, which was still fighting for a playoff spot. The game was in Phoenix, where the Cardinals were 5-1. A chance to improve their seed, and show the rest of the league that they were for real, and a force to be reckoned with in the playoffs. So, what happened? Adrian Peterson of the Vikings ran at will against the beleaguered Cardinal defense, and the Vikings led 28-0 before halftime. The stunned fans, who had celebrated a division championship only the weekend before, booed the team off the field at the half. It was beyond ugly.

And then came today. The Cardinals started the day playing at New England. The Cardinals had gotten their butts kicked every time they had come east this season (against the Jets, Eagles, and Redskins) and the other time they played in the eastern time zone, they blew a big halftime lead at Carolina, and ended up losing to the Panthers. Now was the time for some redemption, and not only that, by beating New England, they could help out the Jets. Yeah, right. Just to make things more ridiculous for the Cardinals, it was snowing like hell for the entire first half of the game today. It was, without doubt, one of the most embarrassing performances I've ever seen by an NFL team. The Patriots moved the ball at will, while the Cards couldn't even make a first down. It was 31-0 at halftime. To quote Brando in "Apocalypse Now," the horror, the horror.

But if that was bad, what came next was even worse. With the Patriots winning easily over the playoff joke from Phoenix, and Miami pulling out a tough one against Kansas City, the Jets had to win to stay even with them in the AFC east. It was snowing heavily in Seattle, where the Jets were playing the pathetic Seahawks, almost as heavily as it was coming down in New England. Rest easy, the Jets are now led by the great Brett Favre, the legend of all those blizzard-condition games all those years in Green Bay. The Jets moved the ball down the field on their first possession. They were about 18 inches shy of a first down at the Seattle 2, and opted for a field goal. They took the three points, and never got anywhere near the goal line again. To put it bluntly, Favre sucked. He threw interceptions, uncatchable balls, and got sacked. The running game was stymied. And the defense allowed Seattle to run the ball, and put up thirteen points. Not a whole helluva lot, but on this day, it was more than enough. Pathetic Seattle knocked off the Jets 13-3, won for only the third time all season, made Brett Favre look bad in the process, and just about knocked the Jets out of the playoffs. Oh, there's still a mathematical chance for the Jets. If they beat Miami next weekend (fat freaking chance, I predict Chad Pennington will destroy his old team and lay to rest many personal ghosts) and New England loses to Buffalo (sure, like that's going to happen!), the Jets can still win the division. Right, and if you believe all that will occur, there's some beachfront property here in Arizona I'd like to sell you.

No, it looks like the Jets are done. Just another spectacular collapse/choke on their resume. Welcome to the New York Jets, Mr. Favre, looks like you fit in perfectly. The Cardinals? They still get to play a home playoff game. They might even win next weekend against the pathetic Seahawks, it's hard to imagine that Seattle would actually win two in a row. It will be nice to see the Cards charge into the playoffs with an intimidating 9-7 record (he says, sarcastically). Despite being at home in the first round of the playoffs, they will probably be one and done.

In reality, both teams came a long way from last year, especially the Jets. The Jets will win no less than 9 games this year, and maybe 10. They only won four all last year, so it's quite an improvement. But there was so much more that they could have accomplished and had right in their sights. The division was theirs for the taking, and they blew it big time. The improvement over last season will be forgotten, the collapse will not.

The playoffs are a whole new season, and the Cardinals will definitely be there. If they get their act together, and win a game or two, the late-season fade will be forgotten. Realistically, it's hard to imagine that happening. They haven't just lost the last two games, they have thoroughly gotten their asses kicked. They were down 28-0 in the second quarter of BOTH games!! They have looked absolutely hopeless and pathetic.

How many days until pitchers and catchers report to spring training?

It's a Wonderful Life

2008-12-10T09:32:00.001-08:00

I don't remember the first time I watched "It's a Wonderful Life". I remember my long-ago bachelor days, watching the film on TV by myself in my apartment on Christmas Eve. Back then, the film was shown on different channels, maybe five or six times on Christmas Eve. You could watch it back-to-back. I remember being entranced by the story, and overwhelmed by James Stewart's superlative performance. I didn't really relate to the character of George Bailey at that time, I was too young, carefree, and lacking in responsibility. I just liked the movie, a lot.

Twenty-five years later, "It's a Wonderful Life" has become an undisputed holiday classic. The tradition began in our house about six years ago of watching it on Christmas Eve. The kids fell in love with the movie, and we now watch it every year. Think of that, a black and white movie, made in 1946 by Frank Capra, without any special effects, CGI, violence or sex, has become a tradition in our household and is beloved by a 17 year-old, a 16 year-old, and a 13 year-old. How in the world did that happen?

Not to mention that now, at the ripe old age of 50, I identify whole-heartedly with George Bailey. Like George, I had dreams of travel and success, of making tons of money, and not being tied down. Like George, I find myself in a dreary job doing something I don't particularly care for, responsible for supporting a wife and family. And like George, I sometimes question my worth and value to the world.

I think what truly entrances me about the film is the sequence where George is taken by Clarence back to his home town of Bedford Falls and shown what life would have been like if he had never existed. Until that point, the film is a charming, often amusing, somewhat poignant look at life in a small town and the sacrifices made by a good man. Once Clarence and George go back to the alternate version of Bedford Falls, however, the film turns frightening and almost nightmarish.

George gets to interact with his mother, wife, and numerous friends. None of them know who he is and are fearful of this stranger who insists that he knows them. He gets to see a cemetery on land that should be the housing development he helped create. He is shown the grave of his brother, who died as a child, instead of being saved by twelve year-old George, as shown in an early scene in the film. The town itself is a low-class, run-down place, dominated by sleazy bars and liquor stores, where no regular person can own a home, since there never was a George Bailey to help them out with his "nickel and dime Building and Loan." The Bailey Building and Loan went out of business years before and Uncle Billy went to prison, because there was no George to bail both of them out. George and Mary's home is nothing but an empty, abandoned shell, and Mary is the spinster librarian of the town, who doesn't recognize George and is fearful that he will attack her. By the end of the sequence, George can't help but realize that he really has had a "wonderful life" and has made a difference. By the way, if you really want to study great acting, just watch Jimmy Stewart in this sequence, as well as all the supporting actors playing polar opposites of the characters they have played throughout the rest of the film. In my opinion, it's one of the most superb ten minute sequences of any film, and it is what elevates the movie to its position of greatness.

And yes, I can't get away from this fact, it is the sequence that brings me to tears every time I watch it. I see a lot of myself in George Bailey and I have the same self-doubts and feelings of disappointment he displays in the film. And, like George, ultimately I would like to think that I've made a difference in the lives of some people, not just my family, but the clients I have served over the years, and the people I have helped. I would like to think that in my own way, I have made my little corner of the world a better place, and that I have mattered.

The last few years have been very tough for me. I have lost dear relatives and friends, I have been forced to re-locate and start over. My financial troubles have been devestating, and I have often thought of myself as a failure. In the back of my mind, however, is the nagging belief that despite all that, I have made a difference, I have mattered to a lot of people, and that I have had "a wonderful life." Maybe somewhere, there's an angel who has gotten their wings because of me. Maybe, just maybe, I really am like George Bailey.

Relief is on the Way

2008-12-09T13:56:00.000-08:00

In what is undoubtedly the biggest news to come out of the major league baseball winter meetings so far, the New York Mets have signed free agent relief pitcher Francisco Rodriguez to a three year contract. Rodriguez, or K-Rod, as he is known to the baseball world, set a new major league record for saves this past year, with 62 for the Angels.

While there are certainly other holes to fill on the Mets, Omar Minaya in one fell swoop has solved one of the biggest problems facing the Mets this past year. The team was humming along in first place, chugging their way to a division title, when closer Billy Wagner went down with a season-ending injury. The Mets were never the same again, and of course, collapsed down the stretch for the second year in a row. Who knows what would have happened if K-Rod had joined the Mets last August?

Nevertheless, he will be with the team in April when they christen their new stadium, Citi Field, and try one more time to win their division with their talented nucleus of David Wright, Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, Carlos Delgado, and Johann Santana. Adding K-Rod doesn't automatically make them better than their biggest division rivals, the World Champion Phillies, but it certainly gets them closer. And for every Met fan dreaming of another championship (and anxious to permanently erase the image of Carlos Beltran striking out looking without the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth of game seven of the '06 NLCS), that's a good thing.

Football, Football

2008-12-07T17:20:00.000-08:00

It was quite the weekend for football, especially if you are a fan of my teams. First, I have to give props to the Arizona Cardinals for clinching their first division championship since 1975, when I was a freshman in college. It's the first division championship in their entire stay in Arizona, only the second time they've made the playoffs while calling Phoenix home, and the first time they will host a playoff game since 1947. That's no typo, 1947, sixty-one years ago. Unbelieveable. The defense looked awesome today against the Rams, the offense was good enough (except for one bone-headed Kurt Warner interception), and as a whole, the team looked like a legit playoff team. It's a big day for Phoenix sports fans.

Yesterday was a big day for Tucson sports fans. The University of Arizona football team had gone ten years without a winning season, ten years without a bowl game, and this year's senior class had never beaten arch-rival Arizona State. That all came to a screaching halt last night at Arizona Stadium in Tucson. Mike Stoops' team came into the game with a 6-5 record, already qualified to go to a bowl game. Dennis Erickson's ASU team had been ranked #15 in the nation pre-season, after last year's ten win team. After winning the first two games this season, the Sun Devils reeled off six losses in a row. They managed to beat the dregs of the Pac-10 conference (Washington, Washington State and UCLA) to come into last night's game with a 5-6 record, a win away from being bowl-eligible. At stake last night was the Las Vegas Bowl to the winner.

The U of A kept shooting itself in the foot in the first half last night. Penalties, dropped passes, missed opportunities, and then one of the biggest bonehead plays I've ever seen led to an ASU 10-7 halftime lead. The bonehead play? The U of A punter dropped down to one knee to catch a low snap from the center, obviously forgetting that by putting a knee on the turf, he was then automatically down, the play was over, and ASU got the ball right there on the UA 19 yard line. Talk about stupid, it looked like once again the U of A would under-achieve and lose to ASU.

The second half, however, was completely different. Arizona dominated the line of scrimmage and scored two touchdowns on long drives in the third quarter. ASU was stopped on a three-and-out on their next possession, punted to wide receiver/kick returner Mike Thomas, who proceeded to run the punt back 60 yards or so for the third Wildcat touchdown of the third quarter. Ballgame over, the first winning season in Mike Stoops' Arizona head coaching career, and a berth in the Las Vegas bowl on Dec. 20th. And, oh yeah, a losing season and no bowl game for the hated Sun Devils. All in all, a very sweet night for the UA football team and their long-suffering fans.

However, it's never totally good news for my football teams. Two weeks ago, the New York Jets had won their fifth in a row, and had beaten the Patriots and Titans in consecutive weekends on the road. For all intents and purposes, they looked like the team to beat in the AFC. Then, they got dominated last Sunday by the Broncos at home, and inexplicably lost to the 4-8 San Francisco 49'ers today. I don't know the details of that game (it was mercifully not broadcast here in Arizona), and I don't want to know, all I know is that the Jets are now tied with both the Patriots and Dolphins (although they do hold the tiebreaker against both teams) and have looked very bad in the last two games. The Jets better put it together real quick if they expect to be successful in the postseason. I want to cash in that bet I made in Vegas, and if that's going to happen, they will probably need to win at least two out of the next three games, and that won't be easy. Seems to me that the Jets have become a victim of their own success. After beating New England and Tennessee and hearing all about how they would meet up with the Giants in the Super Bowl, apparently the Jets felt that all they had to do was show up, and the other team would keel over in deference to their superiority. They obviously forgot all the hard work it took to beat those two elite teams on the road. They need to get back to the work ethic that got them to the top of the division if they still want to be there at the end of the season. If they win out, they win the division. Simple enough. But if they don't, either New England or Miami can take the division (wouldn't it be ironic if Miami, with Chad Pennington at quarterback, beat out the Jets for the division?). The way it looks now, there won't be a wild card from the East, so it's either win the division or stay home. Why do I smell a Jets collapse coming?

And, finally, a few words about the Giants. Before today, the reigning World Champs were the consensus pick as the best team in football, by far. So, what happens? They lose to the Eagles at home, and are thoroughly dominated. If not for a fluke blocked field goal, run back the other way for a touchdown, the Giants would have been shut out until the last minute of the game. Regardless, they looked decidedly mortal and beatable today, and you can't help but wonder if the off-field turmoil created by Plaxico Burress hadn't snakebit the team. The Giants will still win their division, and are still the favorites to reach the Super Bowl from the NFC, but for the first time in a long time, they look beatable. That has to be the biggest surprise of all the games today.

All in all, another fun week in football, both pro and college. I look forward to next Sunday.

The Cabinet Ladies

2008-12-04T09:22:00.000-08:00

Much has been written lately about President-elect Obama's choices for his Cabinet. I'll leave it to the pundits to talk about the Cabinet in general, but I do have some thoughts about the ladies he has chosen.

I am extremely torn about his choice of Janet Napolitano for Director of Homeland Security. While I have no doubt that she will do a fine job in that position, her vacating the Governor's seat here in Arizona is a serious loss for us. Needless to say, Arizona is about as red as a state can be, and it was quite a coup for us to elect (and re-elect) a Democratic governor. She has been superb at dealing with the legislature, which is solidly Republican, and the electorate. While we are experiencing budget problems (who isn't?) and racial strife, Napolitano has managed to steady what has often been a very rocky ship. She has advocated for children (one of her pet projects from her days as Attorney General) and our state is no longer last in education and children's programs. The State has undergone tremendous growth during her period as governor, and Phoenix has become the fifth-largest city in the nation. The infrastructure is improving, and the city has just finished the very first light rail transportation system in the state. Phoenix remains a destination center for conventions, sports events, and tourism. The economy had enjoyed unprecedented growth until just this last year, and Napolitano especially has made sure to make things palatable for corporate relocation to Arizona. Our state has thrived under this Democratic governor, and she has been the one successful beacon of power the Democratic party has had.

Napolitano will be succeeded by Lieutenant Governor Jan Brewer, a conservative Republican. Brewer does not have anywhere near the influence and popularity that Napolitano enjoys, and the Democrats fear that she will be overwhelmed by the Republican legislature and be merely a rubber stamp. Racial strife will likely increase as the War on Illegal Aliens will result in more abuses against Mexican-American citizens, as they get swept up by the likes of Joe Arpaio. Napolitano had been a voice of reason in this political minefield, while Brewer will certainly not be. And the Democratic Party in Arizona? It will probably be a long time before the party becomes anything more than an afterthought. There is no doubt that the country's gain will be Arizona's loss. I think Obama could have picked someone else for Homeland Security, someone equally competent as Napolitano. We need her here more than in Washington, and her loss will be devestating to our state.

I still haven't decided how I feel about Condoleeza Rice as United Nations Ambassador. While I applaud Obama for being inclusive, I have to wonder about Rice's loyalty to the President-elect. Abraham Lincoln tried to be inclusive with his cabinet choices, and he suffered for it with a cabinet he could not trust and which often vehemently undermined and opposed him. I like Rice and I always felt she was one of the jewels of the W presidency, but I just don't know about her as part of Obama's cabinet. Time will tell.

And that brings me to Hillary Clinton. I can't believe I just typed that name. I don't know, maybe I'm totally off-base here, but if I were Barack Obama, I would want to put as much distance between myself and the Clintons as possible. Whatever political gain is made by putting Hillary in the cabinet is more than off-set by the baggage that Hillary brings with her, the biggest baggage being, of course, Bubba. Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State; is that really reflective of the Obama vision that so captivated this nation? I think Obama blew it big time with that choice.

Oh, I'm not naive, I can understand why Obama would want Hillary right where he could keep an eye on her. And if she implodes, she will no longer pose a threat to an Obama re-election bid. I get all that. But really, doesn't the overwhelming potential for harm greatly outweigh any possible advantages? Does anyone really believe that Hillary can broker anything significant as Secretary of State? And what sort of horror will Bill bring forth, now that he will be (sort of) back in the spotlight? I just think this will be a choice that will backfire on Obama. We shall see.

NOTE TO BLOG: After posting this entry, my good friend, B After the Fact, has pointed out to me that President-elect Obama has nominated Susan Rice, not Condoleezza Rice, as Ambassador to the UN. I don't know if I made the mistake, or the news channel I was watching made the error, but I could have sworn I saw Condoleezza Rice's name listed with other Cabinet nominees. Anyway, sorry about that error. You can ignore everything I wrote in the fourth paragraph of this post. Hey, it could have been worse, I could have said Anne Rice, or Simeon Rice.

Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T07:03:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Football, food, no work, what could be bad? When I was a kid, Thanksgiving Day meant the annual football team between the two local high schools. I never missed it, and when I was in high school myself, I participated in it by being in the marching band. That night, we would always have Thanksgiving dinner at our house. My father would drive into Brooklyn to pick up the grandparents, while my mother would cook the turkey and stuffing and all the extras. She did it all, with only a little bit of help from her mother and her aunt. Pretty amazing, considering we would have anywhere from twenty to thirty people over for dinner.

Times have changed. Thanksgiving now is at my house here in Phoenix. My family will drive up from Tucson to celebrate with us. Too many people are missing from years past: my father, my sister's husband, my grandparents, the great aunts. My aunt and uncle and cousins from New York are too far away to join us. They will all be missed. Even my kids won't be here this year, my stepkids are with their Dad in San Francisco and my daughter will remain in Tucson with her mother. It'll be different.

It seems like there's not a whole lot for me to be thankful for this year, but that would not be the truth. I'm thankful for my wife, the best person I have ever known and the greatest gift that God has ever given me. I'm thankful for my kids, who can drive me crazy at times, but of whom I am so proud. I'm thankful that my mother and siblings live close enough that we can be together for this holiday. I'm thankful for my job, which allows me to live in a nice house in a nice place and allows me to put food on the table for my family. I'm thankful for this great country we live in, and that after eight long years of darkness, we have a new President-elect who has given so much hope to so many. I'm thankful for my health, I know of too many people who haven't lived as long as I.

In reality, there's a whole lot for me to be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Statement Games, Part II

2008-11-23T17:44:00.000-08:00

So here we were today, Sunday, November 23, 2008. The New York Jets led the AFC East division of the National Football League by one game, and were in Tennessee, facing the undefeated Titans, the best team in the AFC. The Arizona Cardinals led the NFC West by four games, and played host to the reigning NFL champions and the consensus pick for the best team in the entire league thus far, the New York Giants. Did I hear someone say statement game?

The Jets/Titans game came first. The first half was a defensive struggle, but the Jets had dominated time of possession, as their offensive line was controlling the game. They pulled away in the second half, holding onto the ball for 40-plus minutes, and handing the mighty Titans their first loss of the season. Brett Favre played a great, if not exactly flawless, game. However, it was the domination by the Jets' offensive line, and the subsequent effective running game which were the keys to the Jets' victory. To the rest of the league, the Jets boldly made a statement and placed themselves squarely into the Super Bowl conversation.

The Cardinals/Giants game came next. The Giants are undoubtedly the best team in football, excelling in all three phases of the game: offense, defense and special teams. The Cardinals were able to play with them for the most part on offense and defense, but it was special teams which clearly showed the difference. The Giants continually ran back kicks to put them in excellent field position, giving them short fields and leading to touchdowns. The Cardinals' special teams were not bad, but were definitely outclassed. Two mistakes by Kurt Warner, a fumble and an interception, both in Cardinal territory, were huge, and led to Giants scores. An onsides kick with about four minutes left should have been recovered by the Cardinals, but was not. The final score was Giants 37, Cardinals 29. The Cardinals probably played good enough to beat any other team in the league today, but not the Giants. The Giants are playing at a different level than any other team. No one else is even close. The statement made by the Cardinals today is that they are a good team, able to hang tough with the best team in the league, but not quite good enough yet to beat them. Clinching the division will have to wait at least one more week.

Am I concerned? Not at all, the Cardinals will definitely be a factor in the playoffs. Maybe today's loss will be the springboard to their reaching another level, just like the Giants' last game of the regular season loss to the Patriots last year clearly pushed them to a higher level, good enough to win three playoff games on the road, and then beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl. We'll see if today's loss has the same type of effect on the Cardinals.

And the Jets? They look like the real deal, baby. They just might be the best team in the AFC. How in the world did they ever lose to Oakland?

Detroit Bail-out

2008-11-20T13:20:00.000-08:00

So, the CEO's of the Big Three American car manufactures used their own private planes to fly to Washington to request billions of dollars from the government? That's so sick on so many different levels that I don't know where to begin.

I learned early on in my adulthood that American-made cars were genuinely inferior to foreign-made. My parents owned a ten year-old Mercedes when I got my driver's license, and it drove light years better than any American-made piece of crap. Over the next few years, I owned a hand-me-down Chevy station wagon, a Plymouth Duster, an Oldsmobile Delta 88, and a Ford Pinto. In one way or another, they were all pieces of unadulterated garbage. I'll never forget one time driving home from law school for the weekend in my "blow-up-in-the-back" Pinto, and the damn thing was unable to get up a hill on the Taconic Parkway. I couldn't believe it, we're not exactly talking about a highway in the Rocky Mountains here. What a hunk of junk.

The first new car I bought was a Toyota Corolla in 1988. I turned over the odometer on that car twice, and was working on the third time when I got into an accident and totaled the car through no fault of the vehicle in 2001. That car was built like a tank, and I'm thoroughly convinced that, but for that accident, I would still be driving it.

My next car was a two year-old Dodge Durango. It got a whopping fourteen miles to the gallon, and over the next few years, I probably put between eight and ten thousand dollars worth of work into it. Yes sir, another wonderful piece of Detroit technology. I now drive a Toyota Highlander, one of those mini-SUV things that actually gets almost thirty miles to the gallon, and should still be good twenty years from now. As far as I'm concerned, I will never buy another American vehicle again. That is, unless there are major changes in the American auto industry.

I'm not talking about minor changes, I'm talking about major, industry-revitalizing changes. I'm talking about quality product, a productive work force, competitive pricing, and a total re-structuring of the company compensation system. I guess I'm talking about the auto industry as it exists in Japan. Right, like that will ever happen here. Not when you have the sort of mentality where CEO's fly in private jets to beg for government charity. Disgusting.

So remind me again why in the world my tax dollars should go to bail out this failed industry, which has ripped off the American consumer for the last four decades? Tell me why, if these CEO's are rich enough to own their own jets, they can't improve their businesses without a hand-out from us? Tell me why I should care.

Statement Games

2008-11-14T11:34:00.000-08:00

I lived the first half of my life in the Long Island suburbs of New York City, the second half in Arizona. When I was ten years old, Broadway Joe Namath (who just might have been the coolest guy on the planet back then) led the New York Jets to a legendary, almost-mythic upset win over the heavily-favored Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III. From that point on, I have been a Jets fan for life. In 1982, I graduated from Law School in Albany, NY, on a Saturday, and moved out to Tucson, Arizona the next day. Arizona had no pro football team then, but the St. Louis Cardinals moved out to the desert a few years later. They landed in Phoenix (Tempe, actually) and called themselves the Phoenix Cardinals back then, but they became Arizona's team. And, although they pretty much sucked and had a total putz for an owner, they became my second team. In retrospect, I don't know what I ever did to deserve such abject misery.

Since the legendary Super Bowl victory in January of 1969, the Jets have not once returned to the Big Game. They've made it to the Conference Finals only twice since then. In 1982, Richard Todd (remember him?) led the team to the Conference Finals, where they played division rival Miami in the Orange Bowl. It rained for about a week before the game, and the field was a muddy mess. The Jets gained about 15 yards in total offense that day, A.J. Duhe of Miami deflected a Todd pass into the air, waited for about three minutes for the ball to fall into his arms, and then slogged through the mud into the end zone. The Jets were shut out in that game, 14-0. It was painful to watch.

In 1999, Vinny Testaverde, who I don't think has ever won a championship game at any level, led the Jets to the Conference Finals again. That year, the game was played in Denver in frigid conditions. Somehow, the Jets kept John Elway in check for the first half, and actually led at halftime 6-0. But the real Elway showed up in the second half, and the Broncos romped to a relatively easy win.

And that's been it. There have been a couple of other playoff appearances, maybe three or four, but they have all been early exits. For the most part, the Jets have been pathetic for the last forty years. They have been soft and inconsistent, and have usually let good players slip away. Cheering for them has been a chore.

But if the Jets have been bad, the Cardinals have been absolutely horrific. In the twenty years since they landed in the desert, the Cardinals have had only one, yes one, winning season. In 1999, the Cardinals somehow managed to go 9-7. The last game of that season was a last-second victory over San Diego, which secured the Cards only playoff berth during their entire tenure in Arizona. The quarterback was Jake Plummer, local college star from Arizona State. The Cards faced the dreaded Cowboys in their playoff game. Now, the Dallas Cowboys, for reasons that make me sick, were at that time Arizona's team. In the many years that Arizona was without a pro football team, Cowboys games were featured on TV, gear was sold in stores, and this state became a Dallas Cowboys stronghold. Indeed, if you go see a Cowboys/Cardinals game here (at least until this year), you would find more Cowboys fans than Cardinals fans. It's sickening, especially to someone like me who has always hated the Cowboys.

Anyway, I digress. Somehow, the Cardinals beat the Cowboys in that playoff game. The next week, they faced a much stronger opponent (it was either Green Bay or the Rams, I can't remember) and they were done. But the future looked bright. That is, until the putz of an owner broke up the team. And so, that one glorious moment remains the only playoff game won by the Cardinals in the twenty years they have been in Arizona. One game. Unbelieveable. Even the Jets have been better than that.

Which brings us to this year. The Jets were coming off a four win season last year and not much was expected for this season. I was in Las Vegas in either May or June, and just for laughs, I put down a five dollar bet for the Jets to win the Super Bowl. The odds were 65-1, and I figured what the heck, it's only five bucks. What did I know? And then, all of a sudden, none other than Brett Favre ends up being the Jets quarterback. Tom Brady of the Patriots is lost for the year due to injury, and Peyton Manning has been decidedly mortal. The Jets were 6-3 going into last night's game against the Pats and were tied for the division lead. Holy crap, you mean to tell me there's a chance I might actually get to cash in that 65-1 five dollar bet?

The Jets went out to a big first half lead in the game last night. The Patriots fought back. After all, they're still the Patriots, with or without Tom Brady, and they were playing at home. The score was tied at the end of the third quarter. The Jets came back with a long drive to go up by a touchdown with three minutes left. The Patriots tied the score with a miracle touchdown pass with one second left. Uh-oh. Here it comes, reality time for the Jets.

And then a funny thing happened in overtime. Favre led the Jets on another long drive; and the Jets kicked the game-winning field goal midway through overtime. Against the Patriots. On their field. The national pundits are saying that the Jets, by barely beating the Patriots in overtime on a game that they led handily in the first half, missed an opportunity to make a "statement", whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. Well, I've got news for you clowns. The Jets made a major statement last night. Any other Jets team would have easily lost that game. That's the statement, and for long-suffering Jets fans like me, that is enough. At least for today.

And the Cardinals? The Cardinals have quietly put together a solid team the last few years. The receiving tandem of Anquan Boldin and Larry Fitzgerald are the best in the league. The defense is loaded with studs. And Kurt Warner, former two-time league MVP, won the starting quarterback position from Matt Leinart, and has played this season as good, if not better, than he ever did for the Rams back in his glory days. When all that is added to the fact that the other teams in the division, the 49'ers, Rams, and Seahawks, are all having major down years, the Cardinals find themselves leading the division. Pivotal home wins against then-undefeated Buffalo and Dallas (yes, the dreaded Cowboys) on consecutive Sundays back in October vaulted the Cardinals to first place in the division. Before last Monday night's game against San Francisco, the Cardinals were 5-3 and led the division by three games. The Monday night match-up, nationally televised, against an inferior opponent on the Cardinals' home field in brand- new University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale (a West Valley suburb of Phoenix) was supposed to be a "statement" game.

Well, the 49'ers made a statement on the first play of the game, as the kickoff was run back for a 104 -yard touchdown. The Cardinals were forced to play catch-up the rest of the way, as that first play seemed to suck the life out of the home crowd and home team. The Cards made mistakes, committed stupid penalties, had horrible tackling at times, and allowed the 49'ers to almost beat them. Any other Cardinal team from any other year would clearly have lost, and blown this opportunity at a "statement" game. Yet, somehow, unbelievably, the Cards denied their legacy, and came out with an ugly win, thanks to a last-second, improbable goal-line stand. Still, ugly as it was, a win is a win, and the Cardinals, at 6-3, now find themselves four games ahead in their division.

Again, the national pundits have been merciless, castigating the Cardinals for failing to make a "statement." And to that, I say, you morons are clueless!! The Cardinals made a statement, they won the damn game!! That's the statement, don't you idiots get that??!! These are the Cardinals you're talking about!

As I sit here today, the Jets are 7-3 and lead their division. The Cardinals are 6-3 and, incredibly with seven games still to go, have almost clinched their division. My mind wanders with fantasies of the Jets barely edging out the Cardinals in the Super Bowl this coming February and me going up to Vegas to cash in that ticket. I can almost taste the sweetness of that fantasy, and I long for it to happen. I have hope, I have faith, and I'm loving this football season.

And that, all you ridiculous so-called national experts, is the statement these two teams have made. They have ceased to be themselves, and they have actually learned how to win. They have given their fans hope, and joy, and excitement. They're not the best teams in the league, they probably won't reach the Super Bowl. But they have clearly made statements to their fans. And we're lovin' it!!

OK, so I was wrong....

2008-11-05T04:53:00.000-08:00

....And I've never been so happy to be wrong in my life. It truly feels like a new day has dawned today. I'll bet it was like this in 1960, when Kennedy was elected.

Like many Americans, I never thought I would live to see the day that a black man would be elected President. I remember the race riots of the mid-60's, the Black Panthers, Malcolm X, and of course, Martin Luther King and his horrifying murder. Racism is still alive and kicking in my state of Arizona, and I had no reason to believe it's not still alive all across the country. But maybe, just maybe, that's changing.

McCain's concession speech last night was very gracious, and it seemed to underscore the fact that that particular McCain had been absent for much of the campaign. Perhaps the pressure of the campaign was too much for him and so he hid the true McCain behind the McCain that came forth and was rejected by the nation. And to my friend, A Red Mind in a Blue State, I will never underestimate Sarah Palin. To do that would be stupid, and I firmly believe she will be President someday, and I fear that day. As someone who does not fit her definition of a "real American", she scares the crap out of me. But that is something to worry about some other day.

Obama's speech, as always, was brilliant and powerfully given. The man is clearly a class act and I look forward optomistically to his presidency. But the thing I will always remember most from last night was the reaction from African-Americans, from the faculty members at Howard University who were so overwhelmed with emotion that they couldn't speak, to Jesse Jackson, who stood in the crowd in Grant Park in Chicago, with tears running down his face. No one can deny that last night was one of this nation's most historic moments.

Congratulations to President-elect Obama, I certainly don't envy you, the job you face is enormous and daunting. And congratulations to our great nation, for electing the best candidate, despite his race.

Lute

2008-10-24T15:36:00.000-07:00

I want so much for this post to be a tribute to Lute Olson, to talk about his legacy, his career as head coach of the University of Arizona basketball team, and just what he has meant to the city of Tucson, Arizona for the last 25 years. That, however, would be a fraud and a cheat. I've already talked about all that in a previous post, about how Lute came to town in 1983 to take over the reigns of the Pac 10 basketball cellar dweller, and built a national powerhouse. Lute's legacy will be the national championship of '97, the other three Final Four teams, the eleven Pac 10 conference championships, the Sweet Sixteen teams, the All-Americans who played for him, the future NBA stars, the 24 consecutive appearances in the NCAA tournament, the induction into the Hall of Fame. Lute will always be revered for putting Tucson and the U of A on the national map, and giving the locals pride in his team and their school, as well as their city. Lute changed the city of Tucson forever, and nothing he did in the last few years can erase that.

However, what he did in the last few years unfortunately has tarnished what should have been a stellar legacy. The last hurrah for Lute Olson's teams occurred with about four minutes to go in an NCAA regional final a few years ago, when the Wildcats had a fifteen point lead over the heavily favored Illini of Illinois and looked like they were headed to Lute's fifth Final Four appearance with the team. Instead, the Wildcats stumbled and fumbled their way to choking up that lead and lost in a heartbreaker. In retrospect, Lute never got over that devestating loss.

In the next few seasons, he would sack his assistant coaches, including long-time assistant/associate coach Jim Rosborough, a favorite of his players. He would bring in Kevin O'Neill to help with discipline as he was forced to suspend and discipline players like Marcus Williams and Salim Stoudemire. Last year, he abruptly and without warning, took a leave of absence for personal reasons that lasted the entire season. O'Neill was dubbed interim coach, and the team stumbled its way to its first sub-20 win season since the mid-80's and barely made it into the Big Dance, only to exit in the first round to Purdue. Olson was furious, and fired O'Neill, as well as other loyal assistants/former players Josh Pastner and Miles Simon, the hero of the national championship team.

Blue chip recruit Brandon Jennings bailed on the Wildcats, and superstar freshman Jerryd Bayless left early for the NBA draft. But Lute appeared to be back, as he put his arduous and difficult divorce to his second wife behind him, and energetically recruited some top prospects. He convinced Chase Budinger to stay in school, and talked the other Wildcats into not transferring.

Practice started six days ago and Lute seemed energized and fearless once again. And then yesterday, as if coming out of nowhere, it all fell apart, as Lute shocked the college basketball world by announcing his retirement. What in the world? Why, in heaven's name, now? Why not months ago when the school could have done a national search and gotten a top name replacement? No big time coach is going to abandon his current team right now, just days before the start of the season, and come to Tucson. None of the current recruits or their families got a phone call from Lute, one mother of a recruit found out by a text message, and she is understandably furious. One by one the recruits have already "de-committed." The current Wildcats found out by watching Dick Vitale on ESPN. The whole thing has been heartless and shameful.

Don't get me wrong, I lived in Tucson for 25 years, almost the entire time Lute was the UA coach, and I love the guy for what he did for the town and the school. Words can't describe the excitement he brought to that sleepy burgh in the southern Arizona desert. But the way he's treated his players, the recruits, and his coaches the past two years has been reprehensible. And let's not forget the loyal fans, who pay a pretty hefty premium for season tickets. There's a lot of upset people in Tucson right now, and it just didn't have to be this way.

Lute Olson deserves his retirement, he deserves to spend time with his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. He deserves to bask in his achievements, and live out the rest of his life in comfort and happiness. But to leave the program he built, the powerhouse that he created, as the shambles that now exists, is beyond sad. To quote an anonymous child from a long time ago, "say it ain't so."

My Ten Favorite Scary Movies

2008-10-13T19:29:00.000-07:00

Well, Halloween is just a few weeks away, and I thought it an appropriate time to talk about my ten favorite scary movies. First, a couple of things that this list is not: it's not about monster movies, classic or not. "Frankenstein" and "The Bride of Frankenstein" may be great, old, classic movies, but they are not scary, certainly not in the creepy, goose-bumpy way. I also haven't included the gory, splatter movies. You know, the ones that think scary is all about blood and grossness, movies like "Saw" or "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre." What you'll find here are scary, suspenseful, creepy movies. Things may jump out at you, there can be blood and guts, but there has to be more to them than that. So, without further ado, here are my top ten in reverse order:

10. "Cloverfield"

I don't know what I was expecting when I sat down to watch the DVD of this movie, but I certainly wasn't expecting anything so good that I would add to a top ten list. But from beginning to end, this movie grabbed me, kept me on the edge of my seat, and never let up the tension or suspense. The premise is similar to "Blair Witch Project" in that it happens in real time, with the entire movie seen through the lens of a videotape camera. Very nifty, and very effective.

9. "Blair Witch Project"

Once again, a very clever premise, and very suspenseful and scary. The fact that you never see the witch, or whatever it is that is stalking the main characters only adds to the effectiveness of the scares. Excellent performances by the three principal actors are crucial to the wonderful atmosphere and moodiness of this film. You'll never find me walking in the woods again.

8. "Nightmare on Elm Street"

Yes, the sequels were horrible and nothing more than gore-fests, but the original was terrifying. The introduction of Freddie Krueger was creepy and scary as all get out, with a fine performance by Robert Englund in the title role.

7. "It"

Yes, I know, it's a TV movie, and not a theatrical release, and yes, the best parts of the book were left out, and the ending sucked. Never mind, the first half of this film is mesmerizing and terrifying. Tim Curry gives the performance of his career as Pennywise, the scariest, creepiest, most horrifying clown you will ever come up against. A better second half, and this would have been much higher up the list.

6. "28 Days"

Probably the most intelligent zombie film ever made, this is part end of the world apocalypse, part zombie thriller. Atmospheric, moody, and terrifying, all done with the sardonic wit that only the British seem to possess. The opening sequence, where the main character wanders through an eerily silent, abandoned London is simply brilliant.

5. "Night of the Living Dead"

The grandaddy of all zombie films, filled with blood and gore, not to mention horrible acting by its grade Z cast. Nevertheless, it is creepy and terrifying. The grainy, black and white cinematography only add to the realism. George Romero's first major hit, and still his best film. The sequels had their moments, but none could match the original classic.

4. "The Ring"

A solid story, fine acting (especially Naomi Watts), and the most terrifyingly creepy dead child ever put to celluloid all added up to the best scary film in many years. The climactic moment when the child actually came up out of the well, and.....Never mind, you didn't really think I was going to give it away, did you.

3. "The Shining"

As one of Stephen King's "constant readers", I'm supposed to not like this version of King's scariest book. Sorry to disappoint you, Stephen, but this is one of the moodiest, most ominous films ever made, with classic Kubrick touches like the steadicam dolly shots behind Danny's tricycle, and the hedgemaze. Sure, they left a lot of great stuff out of the book, but Jack Nicholson's performance as crazy Jack Torrance is towering, and the movie is genuinely scary. It helps to have read the book beforehand, but this is still a major achievement. This is one film that has gotten better as the years have gone by.

2. "Halloween"

I'm talking about the original, and only the original, you can forget all the lame sequels. From the incredible theme music, written by director John Carpenter himself, to the amazing beginning set-piece that starts the film, this movie is terrifying and suspenseful from beginning to end. The blood and gore is minimal, while the terror is unrelenting. An absolute masterpiece, and if it is to be blamed for the entire slasher genre it spawned, so be it, this movie is worth it. An homage to "Psycho", the Donald Pleasance character is actually named Sam Loomis. Jamie Leigh Curtis was never better.

1. "Psycho"

What can I possibly say about this movie that hasn't already been said? The shower sequence is probably the most famous sequence in American cinema and never loses its power to shock. This is probably the only movie that kills off its main character 45 minutes into the film, and it's a tribute to master director Alfred Hitchcock that he gets away with it. Anthony Perkins was perfectly cast as Norman Bates, and he is terrifying and pitiful at the same time. Janet Leigh is breathtakingly beautiful, and a perfect combination of naive waif and shady sex object. I believe this is Hitchcock's best film, and one of the top ten movies of all time. Still holds up after all these years.

And there you have it, my top ten scary films of all time. If you think I've left anything worthwhile out, let me know. And if you haven't seen one or more of these movies, check them out this Halloween, you won't regret it.

Justice in Las Vegas?

2008-10-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

O.J. Simpson was convicted yesterday in a Las Vegas federal courtroom of armed robbery, kidnapping, and several other charges. He will be sentenced on December 5th. and is facing a minimum of fifteen years in prison, and could get life. He was taken into custody after the verdicts were read.

You can imagine the nation-wide reaction. "Good, he got away with murder, and now the scales have been balanced," "What comes around goes around," or "Karma." I would bet that if a poll was taken, more than 90% of those polled would say that they were pleased with the verdict, and that justice was done.

But, was it? Was O.J. Simpson convicted for the events that took place in a Las Vegas hotel room a year ago, or was he convicted for the events that took place in a tony Los Angeles suburb fourteen years ago. Yesterday's conviction was thirteen years to the day after he was acquitted of the murder of his ex-wife, Nicole Simpson, and her friend, Ron Goldman.

If you're under twenty years of age, you probably don't really remember the cause celebre that was the O.J. double murder trial. The rest of us will never forget it. It was the most sensational and notorious murder trial of my lifetime. It made household names of Simpson's lead defense attorney, Johnny Cochrane, the judge, Lance Ito, and the prosecutors, Marcia Clark and Chris Darden. It was televised from start to finish, and Americans were riveted to their tv sets.

I've been a criminal defense attorney for over twenty years, and if there's one thing I fear in a criminal case, it's physical evidence. Physical evidence (fingerprints, blood, etc.) acts like a spotlight pointing at the defendant, it becomes virtually impossible to successfully defend a case when there is physical evidence. As it should be, for after all, if someone leaves fingerprints, blood samples and what not at the scene of the crime, it's pretty much a certainty that they are guilty of the crime.

In the O.J. murder case, the police found his blood, his fingerprints, bloody shoeprints, and O.J.'s hat and a pair of gloves at the crime scene. The physical evidence was overwhelming. The State was able to prove motive, as O.J. was still obsessed with his ex-wife and had been stalking her and was violently jealous of any man she was with. And they could show a pattern of domestic abuse, with prior incidents and police contact. Sounded pretty open and shut to me.

What happened next depended on your opinion of the legal system. Many Americans felt it was an absolute travesty. Others, like me, seasoned criminal attorneys, watched a slam dunk case for the State become destroyed by prosecutor arrogance and incompetence. Cochran and his team put the L.A. police on trial, and were simply brilliant. The prosecutors allowed O.J. to try on the gloves during the trial, and O.J. gave a performance better than he ever gave in a movie, he tried to squeeze his hands into the gloves, and when he couldn't get his fingers in there, he smirked and said "they don't fit." It was the turning point of the trial. The jury came back with acquittals in less than an hour.

The nation was outraged. O.J. became a pariah and a symbol of everything that was wrong with American jurisprudence. The victims' families sued Simpson in civil court for wrongful death and received a large money judgment. Apparently, the sports collectibles that were at the center of the Las Vegas incident were items that Simpson had given to the occupants of the hotel room to avoid their being sold off with the proceeds going to the murder victims' families. Despite the verdict of the civil trial, the general consensus the last thirteen years was that Simpson got away with murder.

So, did O.J. get a fair trial last week in Las Vegas? Who can know? Could any of those jurors not have been tainted in some way by their feelings about Simpson? They were given a 16 page questionaire to fill out to prove to the attorneys and judge that they could be fair and impartial. Despite that, there are doubts, and Simpson's attorney clearly believes that O.J. was convicted not so much for what happened in Vegas, but what happened in Los Angeles. Maybe he was.

Most Americans probably don't care in the slightest whether Simpson got a fair trial in Vegas. He got away with murder once, and now what comes around goes around, or something like that. And that's wrong, very wrong. I have no great love for O.J. Simpson, but the criminal justice system must work, for O.J. and all of us. If the government proved its case beyond a reasonable doubt last week, then justice was done. If the verdict was payback for Nicole and Ron, then it was a travesty of justice.

Paul Newman

2008-09-28T07:55:00.000-07:00

Another cinema icon has passed away this weekend, and one more link with the old, classic Hollywood has gone with him. Paul Newman was many things: a marvelous actor, a director/producer, a sex symbol, a race car driver, a philanthropic entrepenour, and a family man. He lived his life his way, and he was admired and loved by millions.

When he catapulted to stardom in the mid-50's, he was adored by millions of women who were mesmerized by his blue eyes, chiseled looks, and moody countenance. He played rascals and rebels, loners and con men. His early output of films reads like a list of classics: "Somebody Up there Likes Me", "Cat on a Hot tin Roof", "The Long Hot Summer", "Sweet Bird of Youth", "Exodus", "The Hustler", "Hud". He starred in off-beat message westerns, such as "The Left Handed Gun", playing Billy the Kid, and "Hombre", playing a half-breed Apache facing social and racial prejudice. And, of course, the classic "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", where he was teamed with Robert Redford for the first time.

In the 70's and 80's, he started to play in message films. He received Academy Award nominations for his brilliant roles in "Absence of Malice" and "The Verdict." He tempered these serious films with films of pure entertainment value, the wonderfully profane ode to minor league hockey, "Slap Shot", the us-against-the-world parable of the New York Police Department, "Fort Apache, the Bronx", and that wonderful throwback to the old Hollywood con-artist film, "The Sting", which re-teamed Newman with Robert Redford and director George Roy Hill, and won seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

Despite ten nominations, Newman won only one time, for the reprisal of his role as Fast Eddie Felson in Martin Scorcese's "The Color of Money." He had played the role to perfection previously in "The Hustler", and was probably robbed of an Academy Award at that time. The Oscar he received seemed more like a lifetime achievement award, and if that is the case, so be it. We can regard it as a make-up award for losing out for "The Hustler", and "Hud", and "The Verdict", and on and on.

Newman was married twice, the second time to actress JoAnne Woodward. They celebrated their 50th anniversary earlier this year, and I defy anyone to name another Hollywood power couple who lasted even close to that long. Newman was famously faithful to his wife, and when asked why he didn't avail himself of the throngs of women who wanted to have sex with him, stated: "I go home and have steak every night, why would I want to substitute that with hamburger?"

The Newmans became philanthropic in the 80's. They started "Newman's Own" line of salad dressing, popcorn, and pasta sauce. All the proceeds went to charity. They created the Hole in the Wall Gang youth ranches for disabled children. They stumped for political causes and candidates they believed in, such as Eugene McCarthy and George McGovern. They famously and vocally protested the Vietnam War, and Newman was proud to have made Richard Nixon's legendary enemies list. When Newman's son from his first marriage died of a drug overdose, they founded their own drug rehabilitation clinic and devoted themselves to that cause.

Newman's passion was race car driving, a passion he did not begin until middle age. Like everything else he did, he plunged into racing with energy and enthusiasm. He won amateur championships, and finished second one year at Le Mans. He was clearly a man who lived life to the fullest, and was not afraid to go for what he wanted.

Paul Newman personified class. A towering actor, a fine Oscar-nominated director, a succesful philanthropic businessman, and a reckless daredevil, he was never afraid to be the man he wanted to be. Paul Newman was above all, a devoted and dedicated family man who placed his wife and children first. He was an original, and an icon, and he will be sincerely missed.

I Need Some Jack

2008-09-09T15:25:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not talking about money, although I could certainly use a whole bunch of that. Times are tough, the problems my wife and I are facing these days seem to be a microcosm of the tough times we are facing as a nation. I've been pretty down lately, the only relief coming when I play poker. It seems there's been a big, gaping hole in my life, and I just couldn't put my finger on it. And then it struck me. I need some Jack!! Big-time!! That is, I need my weekly fix of Jack Bauer.

If you don't know who I'm talking about, then read no more. This post is not for you, you won't get it, and you'll undoubtedly think I'm some kind of freak or loser. But if you know who Jack Bauer is, and if the mere mention of his name brought you any sort of anxiety or excitement or anticipation, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. I miss "24", I miss it badly. In fact, I've been "jonesing" for a new season of my favorite tv show ever since the last season ended.

Before I write anything more, understand that I'm no idiot. I'm a highly intelligent graduate of a major law school and have practiced law continuously for the last 22 years. I have a pretty high IQ, although I've done some pretty dumb things in the last few years. I know the difference between reality and fantasy, and I realize that "24" is no more real than the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. And to that I say, who cares. I love "24", and its disappearance the last year and a half has created a major void in my life.

For those who don't know, "24" was one of the victims of the recent writer's strike in Hollywood. It takes some pretty impressive writing to continue to come up with fascinating scenarios of Jack Bauer saving the nation from the latest terrorist plot to destroy/take over/poison/defoliate our country. And so, with the writers on strike, the new season of "24" which was scheduled to begin this past January was postponed to January, 2009. And that has left lunatic fans of Jack Bauer's (like yours truly) to find other ways to decompensate after we get home from our mundane jobs, like communicating with family, reading books, playing with the dogs, or working on projects around the house. Yuckkkk!!!!

I need to know what happened to Jack after the final fade-out from the previous season. I need to know what happened to Audrey, and why her dickhead father (who owes his life to Jack) is so dead set against them being together. I need to be amused by Chloe's latest antics. And I need to know what happened to President Palmer, not the great, recently assassinated President David Palmer, but his much less impressive brother, who also suffered an attempted assassination, Wayne Palmer. Yes, "24" gave us not one, but two black Presidents, brothers no less. The first was assassinated after he left office, and the second suffered a bomb explosion that left him near death at the end of the last season. Barack Obama better watch out.

I know that "24" can be silly, that it can be accused of exploiting stereotypes, that there is simply no way one guy can do so much, all in one day (which apparently never include meals or trips to the bathroom---where in the world does he get his stamina?). I know all that intellectually. Still, I find the show fascinating, exciting, breath-taking, suspenseful, amusing and endlessly entertaining. Isn't that what TV is all about?

Come back, Jack, I need you bad.

My Favorite Time of Year

2008-09-04T19:42:00.000-07:00

Ah, September. The birds are chirping, football has begun, the scent of fall is in the air. And here, in the metropolitan Phoenix area, the temperature dipped today to a positively frigid 108.

September means pennant race time in baseball, and both my teams, the Mets and the D'backs are in the thick of the pennant race in their respective divisions. In fact, as I write this post, both my teams sit atop their divisions, and will play their respective second-place rivals this weekend. Sweet.

The D'backs have been in first place all season long. After a positively torrid April, they have pretty much coasted with a losing record ever since. In any other division, they would have been left for dead long ago, but in the putrid NL West, they still rule the roost, at least for now. They've been carried by their starting pitching, Brandon Webb, who seemed to have a lock on the Cy Young award two weeks ago, Dan Haren, who was probably the top offseason pick up until about two weeks ago, and Randy Johnson, who was doing his best impression of the Randy Johnson who won four consecutive Cy Young awards with the D'backs in the early years of this decade. The offense has pretty much stunk, despite the temporary lift that Adam Dunn gave the team when he joined them, and the bullpen started the season great, but has been horrible the last six weeks or so. Still, the D'backs were holding their own, and had a golden opportunity to put some distance between themselves and the Dodgers as the Dodgers lost eight in a row last week. So, what happened? The big three of Webb, Haren, and Johnson have all been shelled in their last two starts, the offense has continued to struggle, and the team was swept by the lowly Padres. During the Dodgers' eight game losing streak, the D'backs picked up only a half game in the standings, and now sit merely two games up in the loss column. They may be in second place after this weekend if the vaunted starting pitching doesn't turn things around immediately. The Dodgers, meanwhile, have won five in a row coming into this weekend's showdown, and they seem to have momentum. I have a hard time believing the D'backs can hold them off and win the division. Of course, if the Big Three revert back to their dominant ways, anything can happen, but without strong performances from Webb, Haren and Johnson, the Snakes haven't got a chance.

In the NL East, the Mets are trying not to repeat last year's disastrous choke job. The difference is, of course, that this year's team was not supposed to be in first place this late in the season. With a makeshift bullpen and an inconsistent starting rotation (other than Johan Santana and Mike Pelfrey), the offense has come alive. David Wright has already driven in a hundred runs, Carlos Delgado is knocking on the door to that milestone, and Carlos Beltran has heated up. Jose Reyes is setting the table nicely and Ryan Church is back. If the Mets can hold off the Phillies this weekend, they will look pretty solid, much different from last year when they always seemed on the verge of caving in. No predictions yet, but I really think this weekend is pivotal.

In the Central, the Cubs, despite their present slump, still look like the best team in the NL. They should win the division somewhat handily, despite the loss of Carlos Zambrano. As for the wild card, it will be a surprise if the Brewers don't win. Ryan Braun is having an MVP type year, and C.C. Sabathia has been unbelieveable since he joined the team. It has to be disappointing for the Cardinals and Astros, both of whom would be leading the West if they were there, to see their playoff hopes slowly slipping away.

In the AL, the Angels seemingly had their division locked up at the All Star Break. I keep waiting for the Rays to fall apart, but they've made a believer out of me, and I expect them to either finish in first place in the east, or end up with the wild card. The Yankees are clearly toast, and for the first time in seemingly forever, they will stay home in October. The AL Central is too close to call between the White Sox and Minnesota, and it will probably go down to the wire. Can you imagine if the Cubs, White Sox, and Red Sox all end up playing in the postseason in the same year? I'll be that hasn't happened very often.

The NFL started play tonight, and the World Champion Giants (boy does that feel weird typing that!!!) started their defense of their championship with a win over the Redskins. There is great anticipation in New York about the new-look Jets and their new quarterback, Bret somebody-or-other. Wouldn't you know that in Favre's first game with the team, he'll be facing deposed Jet quarterback Chad Pennington and the Miami Dolphins. The Jets seem to be heavily favored, but I wouldn't be surprised if Pennington pulls off the upset. He's certainly capable of that. Of course, both teams happen to play in the same division as the Patriots, and that is never good news.

Here in the desert, the city seems pretty excited about the Cardinals. The team that should have won at least ten games last year and been in the playoffs, had a .500 record for only the third time in their entire history in Phoenix. Kurt Warner has been dubbed to be the starting quarterback, and he will be throwing to two all pro receivers, Anquan Bolding (who has said he wants out of Phoenix) and Larry Fitzgerald. We'll see what happens.

And in college football, the team I've followed for the last 25 years, the Arizona Wildcats, throttled their first opponent by a score of 70-0. Of course, their opponent was basically on a par with a high school team, nevertheless the last time they beat any team by that kind of score was, like, never. It's put up or shut up time for Coach Mike Stoops in Tucson. Stoops has yet to have a winning season and the Cats haven't been to a bowl game since 1998. Anything less than a bowl berth this season, and Stoops is history. A pretty easy non-conference schedule should help.

What a great time of year. And isn't there some sort of election or something going on right now? Sweet! Now if the temperature would dip below the century mark, we can finally come out of our air-conditioned hiding.

Heroes

2008-08-20T15:50:00.000-07:00

Heroes have always been important to most Americans. When I was a kid, growing up in a Long Island suburb of New York City, my heroes were Tom Seaver, Joe Namath, and John Lennon. Idolizing Seaver was easy, he was Mr. Perfect, the golden boy from California with the All-American blonde wife, the first superstar the New York Mets ever had, and probably still the best pitcher in their history. He was the first Mets pitcher to win the Rookie of the Year award, and the Cy Young award, and his 25-7 season for the 1969 Miracle Mets is still probably the greatest season that any Mets pitcher ever enjoyed (although Dwight Gooden's second season in 1985 is a close second).

Namath was the brash, young quarterback of the New York Jets who made those ridiculous boasts about beating the mighty Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III. Back then, the Jets were part of the American Football League, the fledgling, "second-rate" league that was being regularly dominated by its NFL counterparts. The Jets were something like a 20 point underdog in that game, and Namath's outlandish boasts were ridiculed. Yet, somehow, he and his teammates managed to pull off what is still one of the greatest Super Bowl upsets, and bring the Jets the only championship in their history. The fact that Namath was sort of a playboy, a wild, swinging bachelor on the prowl in Manhattan only made him seem cooler to a kid like me.

John Lennon, of course, was one of the Beatles, and half of the incredible songwriting team of Lennon and McCartney. Lennon had the best, pure rock/soul voice of the group, his vocals were always powerful, his wit was always on display. He was brash, cocky, and not afraid to poke fun at anyone and anything. He was totally cool. Needless to say, he was my favorite Beatle. To understand the impact of the Beatles on a kid from the Long Island suburbs, you really had to live through it. I had all the records, the plastic guitars, the wigs, the trading cards, and who knows what else. I remember watching the Ed Sullivan performances, and seeing "A Hard Day's Night" at the local drive in, with cars full of screaming girls on either side of my parents' car. It was unreal, and there really has been nothing like it since.

As I grew older, my heroes came from other places. Bobby Kennedy, Al Lowenstein, and Jacob Javits from politics; Bruce Springsteen and Harry Chapin from music; and Stanley Kubrick, Jack Nicholson and Peter O'Toole from the world of film. More and more, though, my heroes have been sports figures, and more often than not, they have come from the Olympics.

The 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team was a team worthy of hero worship. Comprised of unknown college hockey players, they went up against the mighty Soviet team of professionals. It was a different world back in 1980, the Cold War was still raging, the Soviets had invaded Afghanistan, and it always seemed like we were on the edge of nuclear armageddon. The Soviet team was supposed to destroy the Americans, and indeed had beaten them something like 10-3 in the last exhibition game before the Olympics began. But before a largely pro-American crowd in Lake Placid (in upstate New York, probably some 250 miles from my home), the Americans pulled off the upset of that Olympics (or perhaps any Olympics) and beat the Soviets, 4-3, in what is now referred to as "The Miracle on Ice." I don't think there was an American anywhere who watched that game without getting a tear in their eye. Two days later, the upstart Americans won the gold medal, and were the darlings, and heroes, of their country.

And then there was American ice skater Dan Janssen. Janssen will go down in Olympic infamy as the guy who was skating in honor of his just-deceased sister, and who kept falling during his races and being unable to finish. Yet, he still kept coming back, and four years later, with his wife and baby daughter (named after that sister) watching, he finally won the gold medal. For someone like me, who had tried and failed so many times to succeed at a personal goal (which I won't mention here), his persistence and courage and perserverance were inspiring. He became one of my all-time heroes for those reasons, and after he finally won the gold, he skated around the ice with his baby daughter in his arms, and I cried like a baby.

The reason I'm writing about this must be obvious. Another Olympics is upon us, and another American athlete has taken this nation by storm, Michael Phelps. Shy, unassuming, yet ridiculously talented, Phelps has won eight gold medals at this year's Summer Olympics, and has become an American hero and icon. His performance may be the best of any Olympian in history, and his success has thrust him into the limelight as a true American hero. A good thing? I certainly don't see why not. In this age of pampered, spoiled millionaire athletes in sports such as baseball, basketball, and football, Michael Phelps seems like a breath of fresh air.

I know a lot of people who despise the Olympics. These people tend to share the belief that heroes should be parents, and teachers, and heroic historical figures such as Martin Luther King, Gandhi, and Abraham Lincoln. I certainly can't disagree with that. But if you can't get wrapped up in what has happened in the last ten days in Beijing, and feel proud of this marvelous young athlete, and the flag that he so proudly represents, well, then, you just don't get it. Michael Phelps, a hero? Absolutely. He makes us feel good about himself, and about ourselves, and what in the world could be wrong about that.

Is "The Dark Knight" as good as I think it is?

2008-07-31T15:03:00.000-07:00

It's been a very long time since I've walked into a movie theater and come out thinking I'd seen a truly great movie. The truth is, I just don't go to very many movies in theaters anymore. The ticket prices are ridiculous, the concession prices are outrageous and one of the great rip-offs that American consumers allow of themselves. We actually pay the same price for a cup of soda that you pay to buy a twelve pack in Walmart. And what do I get for all that? Inconsiderate people who talk during the movie or fail to turn their cell phones off. Some kid who invariably sits behind me and kicks the back of my seat for the whole film. Coming attractions for eight movies that I have no interest in seeing, not to mention the commercials. Sheesh, I'd rather stay home and wait for the release of the DVD.

I suppose the last truly great movie I saw in a theater was "Lord of the Rings--The Return of the King", but really, that was only part three of one nine hour-long extravaganza that I had to wait several years to see in full. I don't think that film won the Academy Award for its own self, but really for the entire trilogy.

No, the last truly great movie I saw in a theater that wasn't part of a trilogy had to have been "American Beauty", which I believe is one of the best, if not the best, satire of American manners and morality that has ever been made. And, of course, I saw that movie way back in the year 2K. It's been a long time.

Now, I was looking forward to seeing "The Dark Knight", the sequel to "Batman Begins." I thought "Batman Begins" was excellent, and had totally re-invigorated the Batman franchise. Christopher Nolan, its director, had made one of the true classics of the last ten years, "Memento", which I have seen several times on DVD. Christian Bale was excellent in the roles of Batman/Bruce Wayne. And, of course, like everyone else, I had read a great deal about Heath Ledger, and his performance as The Joker.

I expected a good movie, perhaps even an excellent movie. I wasn't expecting a great movie, but that's what I got. The story is fascinating (I have no intention of telling it here, go see it for yourself), the cinematography, art design, and set design are all wonderful, creating a Gotham City that for once looks like a very real place. There is action, excitement, tension, mystery, and humor. The acting is superb, starting with Bale and ending with Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman, both excellent in small roles. Aaron Eckhardt is remarkably complex and fascinating as Harvey Dent, avoiding becoming a stereotype. Gary Oldman, one of the best actors in films today, was superb as Lieutenant-soon-to-become-Commissioner Gordon. Again, Oldman played a complex, interesting character, and not at all a stereotype.

Despite all that, this is Heath Ledger's film, pure and simple. I've never been all that impressed with Heath Ledger, including what was widely perceived as his break-out role in "Brokeback Mountain." And, considering the tragic circumstances of his recent death, it would be easy for his performance to be the subject of hype. But Ledger is simply amazing, one of the best performances ever in an American film, and the best performance of a villain since the very first time Anthony Hopkins played Hannibal Lector in "Silence of the Lambs." Ledger's Joker is not a cartoon clown, like Cesar Romero in the old Batman TV show (which I watched religiously as a kid), or a ludicrous freak, like Jack Nicholson in the Tim Burton film. This Joker is real, and complex, and totally evil. Every line, every mannerism, every tick by Ledger is absolutely perfect and just right. He completely nails the part, and he totally dominates the screen. You can't take your eyes off him. He is simply incredible, and he deserves every posthumous award he is sure to get.

I don't think I'm being a fanboy by saying "The Dark Knight" is the best comic book movie ever made. It is truly that great, and Heath Ledger's outstanding performance is one for the ages. But don't take my word for it, see it yourself. And see it in a theater, because for once, the outrageous cost more than makes up for itself with the dynamic sound and the big screen. The two and a half hours seemed to fly by, and I didn't even notice the little creep behind me kicking the back of my seat during the movie. I may even see it again---before it gets released on DVD. And that's truly saying something.

What a difference a couple of weeks make

2008-07-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

ITEM ONE: POKER

As my last post documented, two weeks ago I was in Las Vegas and out of four poker tournaments played, I made the final table in none of them. This past week, I made it out to my favorite local Indian casino, and played in poker tournaments on Wednesday and Friday nights. Amazingly, I made the final table both times. Wednesday night I finished 7th, and Friday night I finished 6th. Wednesday night's tournament was fairly small (43 players), while Friday night's was considerably bigger (100 players). So, what in the world happened, did I suddenly become a better poker player in the span of approximately a week and a half?

Hardly. As I stated in my last post, success in no limit tournaments is very much dependent upon luck and good play. Skill will give you the ability to make the final table, but only the addition of luck can guarantee that you get there.

To illustrate, let me talk about Friday night's tournament, since my performance that night has to rank among my best of all time. Never once during the entire tournament did I get a high pocket pair, not even one time. No aces, kings, queens, or jacks, not even once. I got pocket tens three different times, Big Slick (AK) twice, and AQ once, which just happened to be the hand that I was eliminated with. I found myself bluffing confidently a couple of times, forcing my opponent(s) to fold, and I got lucky three times.

The first lucky hand was after the first break. Til then, I had been getting killed. A couple of brutal bad beats forced me to re-buy, and I also took the add-on at the first break. I was getting nowhere fast. I looked down at pocket tens in late position, and I went all-in. Only one person called, and he showed AK, the dreaded Big Slick. The flop contained a beautiful ten, giving me a set (three of a kind). Turns out I need all three of them, as the turn contained an Ace, and the river was a King. How's that for some good luck for a change? Later, I got AK for the first time, and I re-raised one person at the table. The flop was K-Q-4. The other guy went all in, I called. He turned over AQ. Oops, wrong time for that one, pal. My AK held up, and I knocked him out.

Much later, we were down to about two full tables and it wasn't looking good for yours truly. I was being blinded out and I only had enough for one last blind. I looked down at KQ, which is a trap hand and can lose very easily to AK or AQ. I normally try to avoid the trap hands, but there wasn't much choice left. I had to make a move, or risk being blinded out for good. I went all in, there was one caller. He turned over A5. And, glory be, there on that beautiful flop, was a nice fat King. The King held up, and I had knocked another guy out.

Then, I went on a rush. I had pocket tens the next hand. Four guys had limped in, and the last hand had suddenly given me a decent stack. I went all in, and they all folded. The next hand I had AK suited, and there were two limpers in front of me. I went all in again, and they both folded again. Suddenly, in the space of three pots, I was the chip leader at my table, and it looked very good indeed to make it to the final table.

Much later, at the final table, there were seven of us left. I was one of the two small stacks, although at that point in the tournament, 30,000 chips is a small stack, which is basically what I had. I was under the gun, which means I was first to act after the blinds. I was looking for the best opportunity to get my chips in. I looked down at J8, not a good hand, but it had possibilities, and I really didn't have many other options. I went all in. Only the big blind (the other small stack at the table) called. He had pocket deuces. And I sucked out. I ended up with a straight. I didn't last much longer. The other small stack was knocked out next, when his pocket aces got cracked. And I was the next to go, when my AQ suited never connected with anything and lost to pocket eights.

I finished in sixth place, out of a hundred people. Pretty darn good, in my opinion, especially considering the crap cards I got for most of the tournament. A nice tonic after the bitter disappointment of Vegas.

ITEM TWO: BASEBALL

Several posts ago, I was highly critical of the Mets after they had fired Willie Randolph and seemed to be floundering. Then, a funny thing happened. The atmosphere and mood of the team changed under Jerry Manuel. Carlos Delgado suddenly remembered how to hit, Jose Reyes started being a table-setter again, and the Mets went on a nine game winning streak right before the All Star Break. They are currently in first place, a game ahead of Philadelphia, and playing much better.

And the Diamondbacks? After a red-hot April, they sucked in May, June and the first part of July. They were still in first place at the All Star Break, but they had a sub-.500 record. As of this morning, they are still clinging to first place after sweeping the Giants on the road over the weekend. The Dodgers are holding fast, just a game behind, having also swept a weekend series (against Washington). The D'backs are playing much better, and they got some much-needed bullpen help, getting John Rauch in a trade with Washington. Still, the Dodgers are not going away, and it won't be easy holding them off.

Wow, both my teams in first place in their divisions in late July, both by only a single game. The pennant race in both divisions should be outstanding, and I'm looking forward to it. Let's go, Mets!! Let's go, D'backs!! I want to see you guys playing each other in the NLCS this year!!

The Perils of Tournament Poker

2008-07-13T18:39:00.000-07:00

As I am writing this post, they are playing out the Main Event of the World Series of Poker at the Rio Hotel in Las Vegas. There are 37 players left, with nary a big name among them. All those guys like Hellmuth, Negreanu, Annie Duke, and all the rest are long gone. And, although I was in Vegas this weekend, my name is not there, either. I will have to wait at least one more year to get back to the WSOP.

I did manage to play in four tournaments this weekend, two each at the Sahara and the Stratosphere. It was not a good weekend for me, poker-wise, and it's all because of bad luck and bad beats. You see, you can have all the skills and poker knowledge in the world (not that I profess to have either), and it won't do a damn bit of good in a tournament if you don't have good luck and avoid bad beats.

Here's where the luck part comes in. Yesterday afternoon, I was playing in a tournament at the Stratosphere. 62 players started, and there were about 24 left. They were paying only the top six positions, and there was a way to go. So far, I had been holding my own with careful and strategic play, and a few calculated bluffs. But as far as cards, I had been getting squat. No big pairs, no top hands, and I was starting to get blinded out. Finally, I looked down at pocket kings, the best starting hand I had seen all day. One guy in front of me raised twice the big blind. I re-raised two thousand more. This particular guy had just recently gone all in with a stone cold bluff, 2-7 offsuit, and had made sure to show us and rub our noses in it. I thought he probably had a decent hand, but I still thought I had him beat. He re-raised me all in, and I called. I turned over my kings, and he turned over pocket aces. I couldn't believe it. The whole tournament I'm getting squah-doosh, I finally get a top pair like pocket kings, and this numbnuts has aces. Of course, the aces held up and I was knocked out, thoroughly and completely disgusted.

In fact, I was so thoroughly disgusted that I waited a whole three hours later to play in my next tournament, this time at the Sahara. Every time I'm in Vegas I like to play in the tournament at the Sahara. The buy in is cheap, they usually have about 15 tables for each tournament, and the competition is very good. It's an excellent test of my abilities, and I have probably played about ten tournaments there. I have gone deep in most of them, and the closest I got to the final table was finishing twelfth one time, but I have never made the final table. Last night was no exception.

For the first three hours I was doing well, and I got to the second break with the biggest chip stack at my table. And then I went card dead, which means I had terrible starting hands. I couldn't even bluff, since every pot was raised and the table was full of rocks, who usually had quality starting hands. My stack was going down, and I was in danger of being blinded out.

Finally, I was in middle position with pocket tens. I did a standard three times the big blind raise. Everyone folded except the big blind. He went all in, and I called. I had him covered by three thousand chips, and he turned over pocket eights. It looked I was going to double up my chip stack. Unfortunately, this is where the bad beat thing reared its ugly head. The flop was inconsequential, and the turn was a bust. And then came the river, a big fat eight, giving this jerk-head a set of eights, and pretty much putting me on the rail. A brutal, stinking bad beat, and I was just about gone. I went all in the next hand with AJ, and it looked pretty good when the flop showed jack high, but a queen on the river knocked me out, and I was done. Disgusting.

And that, my friends, pretty much sums up the perils of tournament poker. You have no control over the cards, and the best hand sometimes loses. Anyone who says luck doesn't play a part in tournament poker has never had pocket tens beaten by pocket eights. If you're going to win a tournament, you must play with skill, make the right decisions, have a bit of luck, and your good hands must hold up to win. If you don't have all of those, you're not going to win, whether your name is Phil Hellmuth or Brucefan is Back.

What's wrong with people?

2008-07-02T09:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I read online about the guy in suburban Rochester, NY who after playing a somewhat contentious softball game replete with alleged trash-talking, cold-cocked one of the opposing players in the back of the head as the two teams lined up to shake hands after the game. The report went on to say that the victim later died of those injuries. The suspect had fled the scene, but was eventually caught. It was later determined that the suspect had a felony criminal history and had served a four year prison term from 2003 to 2007.

I found the report disturbing for many reasons. First off, I'm no stranger to violent crime, as I have been a practicing attorney specializing in criminal defense for the last twenty-two years. Nevertheless, this particular crime, under these particular circumstances, seems to me to be just a little more reprehensible than most.

What could the victim possibly have said during the trash-talking that would warrant such an act of violence? Was it worth taking the man's life? I don't know if the victim had a wife or kids (the report I read made no mention of it), but I'm pretty sure he left behind some family that will be devestated by this for the rest of their lives. And the suspect undoubtedly has some family or relatives that love him who will now endure the pain of watching their loved one vilified, referred to by the media as some sort of monster, and prosecuted for this venal, horrific act. And for what? Some comment that the victim may have said that insulted the manhood of the other guy? Whatever happened to that old mantra, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me?"

And what a cowardly, ugly way to exact revenge. The guy waits until the teams are lined up to shake hands at the end of the game, an act of good sportsmanship that is as traditional and revered as the games themselves. It's a time to put all the intensity and conflict of the game itself aside, and participate in the good feeling of sportsmanship. To pick that particular time to hit the victim is horrific enough, but to cold-cock the guy from behind in the back of the head, when he has no idea what's coming and is unable to defend himself is simply reprehensible.

What in the world would push someone to do something so venal, cowardly, and senseless? Is this who we are as a society? Is it always so necessary to be right, to exact a measure of revenge if someone insults your manhood or trash talks you in some other way? Frankly, I find the whole episode disgusting. And if this is indicative of what we are as a society, then I fear for us.

Crosby, Stills and Nash

2008-06-23T06:02:00.000-07:00

It's not every day that I come into contact with real honest-to-goodness icons, but this past Saturday night was just such an occasion. My wife and I went to see Crosby, Stills and Nash at the Dodge Theater in downtown Phoenix, and it was simply incredible.

There aren't a whole lot of performers left from the Woodstock nation. Hendrix and Joplin are long dead. Half of The Who is gone and Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead has also moved on. Grace Slick and most of the members of Jefferson Airplane are still around, but how long has it been since they've performed together or created new music? Carlos Santana is still very much with us, but I don't know if he fits the description of being an icon. No, it seems to me that the only ones left are David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash.

Watching these three legends Saturday, I couldn't help but think that it was a minor miracle that these guys are still with us. They looked awful, they tottered up to the stage, and they gave the appearance of being old, fragile men. Stephen Stills looks like the guy who comes in to service your cooling system. David Crosby said he recently lost 50 pounds, but he can obviously stand to lose another 50, and gives the impression that he has murdered far more of his brain cells than he has left. Graham Nash looks so weather-beaten and haggard (anyone still care to make the argument that recreational drugs are harmless?) that it seems amazing he is still alive.

But alive they are, and oh, those incredibly sweet voices are just as wondrous as ever. Backed by a serviceable, if not spectacular, band of drums, bass, and two keyboard players, CSN took the predominantly mature (I was actually one of the younger attendees) crowd back to the age of Woodstock, hippies, flower power, Vietnam, and protest songs. They started with "Marrakesh Express", followed by "Love the One You're With", followed by "Long Time Comin". I couldn't help but be transformed back to my childhood, when CSN, Deja Vu, and Four Way Street were three of my favorite albums, and I played them constantly. Crosby, Stills and Nash (with or without Neil Young) was the music of my youth, and Saturday night I felt like I was thirteen years old again. It was wonderful.

I had forgotten how versatile Graham Nash is. He played acoustic guitar, electric guitar, harmonica, and keyboards. I was surprised to see that he has become the de facto leader of the band, and I wondered if it had always been that way. His performance on "Cathedral" and "Our House" was extraordinary.

And I had forgotten how talented a lead guitarist Stephen Stills is. When you think of guitar players, no one thinks of Stephen Stills. But there he was, balding and paunchy, cranking out excellent leads and solos to go along with fine vocals.

And David Crosby? The poor guy has been such a constant news item due to his drug addiction, prison terms, and sperm donations that it has been easy to forget what a great singer/songwriter he is. His tremendous performance on "Almost Cut My Hair", that great ode to the '60's, was simply electrifying and his self-deprecating humor throughout the show was refreshing.

The real power of the group, forty years ago, as well as now, has always been their harmonies. The second half of the show began without the backing band, as Stills strummed a guitar while the three legends sang "You Don't Have to Cry" and "Helplessly Hoping." "Wooden Ships" was epic and stirring, while "Teach Your Children" was as tender and heart-warming as ever. There were some disappointments, ommissions like "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes" and "Woodstock", but hey, they simply can't play everything. But what they did give us was simply joyous.

So much of my life these days is wrapped around making a living, connecting with my teenage children, putting my life back together, and trying to survive this hellish economy. It is oh so hard for me to remember what it used to be like, when I was young, idealistic and full of energy and enthusiasm. My childhood often seems like a blur, something that happened to someone else. But last Saturday night, I was transformed back to a time of bell bottoms, protest songs, youth and innocence. I felt young and alive again, with a goofy smile on my face as I sang along to all those great songs. I felt free, and happy. And that is why Crosby, Stills and Nash are icons, and legends. I'm so glad I was there Saturday night.

It Ain't Easy Being a Met Fan

2008-06-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

I suppose the title of this post says it all. I've been a fan of the New York Mets my whole life, and sure, there have been some great moments, the legendary Miracle Mets of 1969 being the pantheon. There was also the '86 championship, and the Bobby Valentine teams that made it into the postseason in back to back years, and the "ya gotta believe" '73 National League champs, and some other nice years. There was the joy of watching the development of some future Hall of Famers like Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan, and the disappointment of seeing some other potential Hall of Famers crash and burn, like Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry.

For the most part, however, being a Met fan has been a long, painful experience. The team's history is littered with horrible trades (Nolan Ryan for Jim Fregosi is only one of many), young talent given up too soon (Amos Otis, Ken Singleton, Scott Kazmir), old talent coming to the team far too late in their careers (Mickey Lolich, Eddie Murray, Gil Hodges), poor management, and the ever-present domination of the cross-town Yankees. For the most part, the story of the Mets has been about underachievement and disappointment.

GM Omar Minaya was supposed to have changed all that. He hired Yankee favorite and local product Willie Randolph to be his manager. He persuaded Pedro Martinez to come to the Mets in a move that gave the organization credibility. He brought over Carlos Beltran and Carlos Delgado and Billy Wagner, and he added a good young nucleus (Jose Reyes, David Wright) to the veteran mix. They were the best team in baseball in 2006, dominated their division, and should have won it all. But somehow they were out-played by an inferior Cardinals team in the LCS, and those of us who have suffered with this team our entire lives will never forget the image of million dollar man Carlos Beltran looking at a called strike three in the bottom of the ninth of game seven with the bases loaded and two outs and the Mets down two runs to the Cardinals. Looking back, the team has never recovered from that moment.

Much has been written and said about last year's collapse. I've talked about it before on this blog, and I don't need to get into it again. As painful as the end of the '06 season may have been, nothing matched last year's humiliation. It was a new low for Met fans, just when we thought there could be no new low.

In retrospect, Willie Randolph probably should have been fired after the season. Of course, he wasn't to blame for the collapse, but he was to blame for being too blase about what happened. The team needed to be called out, screamed at, shaken and stirred. Willie doesn't do those kinds of things, and so the inevitable happened, and one of the worst (if not, the worst) collapses in baseball history resulted. The team basically needed an overhaul, at least at the top, and it didn't happen.

Which brings us to this year. To put it bluntly, the Mets have sucked. The pitching has been woefully inconsistent and the offense has been abysmal. The team is way too old, and it is clear that players like Carlos Delgado, Moises Alou, and Luis Castillo are finished. Carlos Beltran is a major disappointment, and will join a long list of players who have flourished elsewhere but bombed in New York (a list that is, of course, headed by Nolan Ryan, notice how that name keeps coming up in this post). Jose Reyes is losing his way and needs a fiery, young manager (former Met and current Twins manager Ron Gardenhire?) to kick his ass and get him motivated. It's been obvious, at least to me, for weeks now that Willie Randolph's days were numbered. I thought he'd get the axe after the team gave up the lead in all three games against the Diamondbacks last week and lost two out of three. But I was wrong about that.

No, the Mets' management had something different in store for Willie Randolph. It wouldn't be enough to merely fire him, they had to allow the team to go to Anaheim, allow Willie to win the first game of the series, and then fire him in the middle of the night (3 a.m. Eastern time) and then let the rest of the world find out by email. How petty. How chickenshit. Whose idea was this? Fred Wilpon's? Jeff Wilpon's? Omar Minaya's? Can you imagine Joan Payson doing something so cowardly? And not only was Willie fired in this manner, but Rick Peterson, the pitching coach who had done so much with John Maine and Oliver Perez, was also guillotined. Shameful.

No, it's never been easy being a Met fan, and I suppose it never will be. But today, in the wake of this disaster, it's just a little bit harder than ever before.

Making History

2008-06-08T10:10:00.000-07:00

So here we are. The defining moment of the Baby Boom era. 145 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, we finally have a black man running for President on a major party ticket. And five months from now, we should have a pretty good idea of how far we have come as a nation, and how far we still have to go.

The ideal result would be for race to play no part whatsoever in the election, that people based their voting decision only on the platforms of the respective candidates. Of course, that is merely an "ideal", a fiction, a fantasy. For far too many voters, race will be the major factor in their decision to pull the lever.

I've said before on this blog that I don't believe this country is ready to elect a black man as President, especially one with a Muslim name. Nothing I've seen since has caused me to change my opinion. Obama's victory for the nomination seems, to me, more of an anti-Hillary thing than a clear mandate for Obama. The mere fact that Obama had to struggle through the entire primary schedule before he could declare victory is ominous. Not even his own party could decide on him until months of vicious, bloody campaigning finally took its toll. If it was so difficult to win his own party, how in the world can he possibly win the country?

The one thing I've heard no one talk about is whether it is even safe for Obama to make his run. Let's not forget this nation's history and legacy of assassination. We all know the names: John F. Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, McKinley, Garfield, Lincoln. Is there some fanatic out there right now planning on pulling the trigger, and if so, can that person be stopped? Hopefully, we are past that point as a nation, but I wonder.

So, how does Obama get his message across to all the people out there who can't see past his skin color and his name? How does he relate to all the working class people struggling in this ever-failing economy? How does he get through to all those who believe he is an elitist, an intellectual with no understanding of what it means to be a common person? And finally, how does he convince the country that he is a better choice than John McCain?

John McCain is an American hero, a Vietnam War veteran, who survived a harrowing experience in a prisoner of war camp. McCain is baseball and apple pie, as close to a good old boy as any Presidential candidate can be. McCain is familiar and comfortable, Obama is an outsider to many Americans.

If Barack Obama is declaring victory the morning after Election Day this November, then I will finally believe that this nation has succeeded, that we will have fulfilled the promises of the Declaration of Indepence. Even if he loses, but the election is won on the issues, and not on the sole issue of race, then I will feel satisfied. No matter what, five months from now, we will get a clear view of who we are and where we go from here. Future generations will be watching what we do in the next five months. Hopefully, they will be proud of the legacy we leave.

Does it really matter who wins?

2008-06-02T13:07:00.000-07:00

I'm talking about the Presidential election, of course. First, does it really matter who wins the Democratic nomination, and second, does it really matter who wins the election? Or am I a total moron for even posing the question?

Let's look at the Democratic nomination first. Many Democrats believe that there is a fundamental difference between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. To me, there seems to be more of a pragmatic world view that Hillary has that Obama does not. Obama is pretty much a novice to the world stage, which might not be such a bad thing, but it does give some concern. Both candidates have serious character flaws, not the least of which is Hillary's distance from being able to tell the truth. Truth be told, all things considered and following on the heels of what may turn out to be the worst Presidency in American History (although, in fairness, it's probably still a little too soon for George W to be considered the all-time worst, but it's not inconceiveable), I think either candidate would do fairly well. The problem is, I don't believe either is electable. Hillary Clinton is so thoroughly despised by so many people in so much of the country that I think she will be trounced by John McCain. Obama, on the other hand, would probably do a little better than Hillary, but there is no way that I can believe this nation is ready to elect a black man with a Muslim name as its president. No way in the world. So, it really doesn't matter, Hillary or Obama, both will probably get trounced by McCain.

So, does it matter if McCain wins? The easy answer is yes, of course, if McCain wins we will stay in Iraq for years, there will be conservatives appointed to the Supreme Court who will overrule Roe vs. Wade (I'm not so sure that's a bad thing---if Roe is overturned, doesn't that mean that the issue of reproductive rights reverts back to the individual states, and if so, isn't that where it should be in the first place?), and the economy will get even worse.

Oh really? How much worse can the economy get? Well, in theory, a lot worse. Sure, the price of gas has gone through the roof, the price of food and everything else has been going steadily up, and we are mired in a recession. But we're a long way from the Depression of the 30's, and unemployment does not seem to be unmanageably high. Would the Democratic candidate have some magical panacea to fix the economy that McCain does not possess? Isn't it true that no matter who wins the election, unless we lessen our dependence on foreign oil, the economic crisis will only get worse? It seems more like an American problem than a Democratic or Republican one.

Iraq? Well, both Democratic candidates say they will get us out of Iraq quickly, but what else would they be expected to say? I, for one, have a hard time believing it. I think we're stuck there for an indeterminate period of time, and no one, not Hillary, Barack or John McCain will be able to get us out quickly.

Social issues? Yes, there are significant differences between the Republicans and Democrats on most social issues. But McCain is viewed as a somewhat middle of the road conservative, while both Hillary and Obama are "conservative democrats," whatever the hell that means. Their views on social issues may seem divergent in theory, but in practice, probably not so much.

So, in this pivotal, critical election year of 2008, with the economy spiralling downward, a seemingly endless war going on overseas, social turmoil, and a widening gap between the haves and the have-nots, does it really matter who will win the election? I don't know, I just don't know.

The Joys of Living in Arizona

2008-05-19T15:28:00.000-07:00

Let's see, today is Monday, May 17th. It's a week before Memorial Day and the temperature in Phoenix today is supposed to reach 110 degrees, smashing the record of 105 set two years ago. Can someone say global warming? What's really scary is if it's 110 already, how hot is it going to get in June and July? 110 is pretty unbearable. 115 is just plain miserable. Higher than that? I don't like to think about it. The hottest I've ever experienced was 121 at Lake Havasu City. It was like walking around in an oven, my nose hairs were singeing and my eyes couldn't stop watering. I can't imagine anything hotter than that, but I just may get to experience it this summer. Lord help us!!

The Phoenix Suns are currently looking for a new head coach. The Shaq experiment was pretty much an unmitigated disaster. The team was the projected number one seed in the West at the time of the trade, and they sputtered thereafter to the number six seed. They were actually playing not all that badly at the time the playoffs started. And the morons on sports talk radio were rejoicing that the Suns' first opponent was the Spurs. Yes, the same San Antonio Spurs that were the defending champs and that the Suns had yet to get past in the playoffs. What in the world were these idiots happy about? Well, be careful what you wish for. The Spurs won the first three games of the series and disposed of the Suns in five games. Shaq did OK, but Amare Stoudemire was not what he had been in the past, and Steve Nash was awful (I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself). The Suns played no defense (now there's a shock), and Tony Parker and Manu Ginobli pretty much owned them all series. It was ugly. Stubborn coach Mike D'Antoni refused to use the bench or coach defensively, and now Stubborn Mike will be enjoying himself in New York with the worst team in the league and the toughest fans and most brutal media. Have a great time, Coach. Take advantage of being in the Big Apple because you might not be there for long.

The Suns, meanwhile, are in turmoil. Owner Robert Sarver and GM Steve Kerr are interviewing head coaching candidates, while obviously mulling over whether to rebuild, or try one more time with a Steve Nash-led team. I, for one, have no clue what happened to Nash this year, and I have some concerns about whether he is through. I mean, this guy won back to back MVP awards, and seemed to be a different person this year. Amare Stoudemire is a great talent, but he needs a supporting cast. And they all need to be playing defense. Tune in next season to this ongoing soap opera.

And if you want a real soap opera, travel down the freeway 120 miles to Tucson for the latest installment of the Lute Olson debacle. One of my earlier posts talked about Lute Olson's University of Arizona Wildcats, and how Lute built a powerhouse college basketball program in the desert. Now, he's trying to save his sinking ship. Unfortunately, assistant coaches are leaving (even the beloved Josh Pastner, probably the most popular Wildcat since the aforementioned Steve Kerr), recruits are trying to get out of their commitments, and star players (Jerryd Bayless, Chase Budinger) are leaving early for the pros. I shudder at the prospect of what's in store for the upcoming season.

Thank goodness for the Diamondbacks, who still own the best record in baseball. Coming off a 5-1 homestand over the Rockies and Detroit Tigers, the D'backs are 5 and a half games ahead of the Dodgers and show no indication of slowing down. Go Snakes! Who cares about roundball anyway?

And notice, I haven't even mentioned that the next President of the United States might be one of our Senators. I don't even want to think about it. You people in the other 49 have no clue what you're getting yourself into.

A Sweet Victory

2008-04-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

I used to write a lot about poker on my old blog. Like many people, I was bitten by the Texas Hold 'em bug several years ago, when Chris Moneymaker came out of nowhere to win the main event of the World Series of Poker. Since then, I have played in many poker tournaments in casinos and countless hours online. I won a poker tournament in Las Vegas back in September, '05, and have had some success since then, but no outright wins. I even played in one of the early events of the 2006 World Series of Poker, but I was knocked out in the first twenty minutes. And, since then, despite some near misses and a ton of bad beats, I had yet to win another tournament.

That is, until yesterday. I played in a noon tournament yesterday at one of the local casinos. There were 75 people signed up for the tourney, and I have played in this tournament before. Considering the slump I've been in lately, and the dissipation of my confidence, I was not expecting much. Perhaps that's the best way to go into one of these things.

The tournament was pretty uneventful for most of the first three rounds. I was pretty much holding my own, never dipping below what I started with, but never accumulating very much, either. Then, for the last hand before the first break, a guy down at the other end of the table jumped up with his cellphone in his hand, pushed all his chips in, and then took off running, never to return. We had started the tournament with 5,000 chips, and this guy pushed in almost that amount. I was last to act. Everyone folded to me, and I looked down at pocket aces. I couldn't believe it. I pushed all in, the other guy had A-3 suited in hearts, no flush came on the board, and I doubled up right before the break.

For the next hour and a half, I held my own. I never got a big stack, and I managed to avoid getting blinded out by taking a few chances, making a couple of bluffs, and getting lucky. One time I was in the big blind with 9-10, suited in clubs, a suited connector. One player went all in, and I called, since I already had the big blind posted, and it was less than double the big blind to make the call. The pros say that the price was right, I had the correct odds to make the call, so I did. And sure enough, I ended up with a flush, the other poor dude had A-Q, and I knocked him out.

A little later on, there were 12 players left and I was short stacked. I had managed to hold on, but I was in danger of being blinded out. The blinds were 2000/4000 and I had about 13,000 in chips. I looked down at pocket 8's and went all in. Another guy called me with A-J. The 8's held up, I had doubled up, and that set me up to get to the final table, the first time I ever made a final table in that particular casino.

The tournament was paying only the top six places, and I was determined to be one of them. Three players got knocked out pretty quickly, and then there was seven. We played for about a half hour and I continued to hold my own, with neither a big stack or a small stack, right about the middle. Finally, the bubble boy was knocked out and I had made it into the money.

Ten minutes later, there were four of us left. And that's when I started to make my move. I won a major pot with A-K suited, and a couple of hands later, I won a big pot with a big raise when I looked down at pocket tens. We continued to play and I continued to accumulate a bigger and bigger stack, while the other three guys traded chips back and forth. Finally, the other players proposed that those three would tie for second place, and I would be the winner. We all agreed, the prize pool was distributed, and I was declared the winner of the tournament, complete with the monthy points that go along with winning, the placing of my name in the winner's book, and the satisfaction of knowing that I had finally won a tournament.

Looking back, I think I played one of the best tournaments of my poker career, if not the best. I wasn't perfect, but I made some critical, big-time laydowns that I might not have made in tournaments past, I played aggressively when I had big hands, and I showed the proper patience and discipline. And, for one Saturday at least, I tasted the sweet victory of winning a no-limit Texas Hold 'em tournament and I'm on top of the world. I'll be sad to see April go, it's been a good month.

RIP Danny Federici

2008-04-18T07:16:00.000-07:00

Danny Federici, one of the founding members of the E Street Band, passed away yesterday from melanoma cancer, at the age of 58. Danny played keyboards, usually organ, sometimes accordian, and was an integral part of the E Street sound. His musical contributions to such classics as "Sandy", "Incident on 57th Street", and "Backstreets" were monumental. He will be missed. I hope he's somewhere right now, jamming with John Lennon, George Harrison, Jimi Hendrix, Keith Moon, John Entwhistle, and my brother-in-law, Arthur.

A Tale of Two Teams

2008-04-16T15:59:00.001-07:00

I grew up in the Long Island suburbs of New York City, about 40 or so miles from Shea Stadium, the home of the New York Mets. Tom Seaver was my boyhood hero, and the Miracle Mets season of 1969 was one of the three or four best years of my life. I am, always have been, and always will be, a Met fan.

In 1982, I moved to Arizona, where there was no major league baseball team until 1998, when the Diamondbacks were born. Since that time, I have probably been to more Diamondbacks games than I ever went to Mets games, and I have adopted the D'backs as my second team. My stepson believes something like that is sacrilege, but what the hell does he know, he's only sixteen. When the two teams play each other, I root for the Mets. Against any other team, I root for the D'backs, and vice versa.

Both teams had rather disappointing finishes to last season, although the degree of disappointment was pretty divergent. The D'backs came out of nowhere to win their division and make the post-season with a bunch of young guys that no one outside of Arizona had ever heard of, other than Brandon Webb. They became only the fourth team in major league history to make the post-season while being outscored by their opponents over the course of the season. They finished with the best record in the National League, and summarily disposed of the Cubs in the first round of the playoffs, only to be subsequently swept by the Colorado Rockies in the NLCS. It was a disappointing end to a joyous season, but the young D'backs had nothing to hang their heads about, and the future looked optimistic indeed.

The Mets, on the other hand, having been the favorites to make the World Series in 2006, and coming up one game short in the NLCS agains the Cardinals that year, were once again tabbed as the team to beat in the National League. Omar Minaya, the GM, has spent a tidy fortune on such current and/or past stars as Pedro Martinez, Carlos Beltran, Carlos Delgado, Moises Alou, Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez, Shawn Green, and Billy Wagner to bring a World Series winner to Shea Stadium. After leading the NL east for most of the 2007 season, the Mets faded horribly down the stretch and completed one of the all-time worst choke jobs in major league history. It was brutal and embarassing. Met fans are still reeling.

Both teams have high expectations for this season. Both signed front-line big-time starting pitchers: Johan Santana is now a Met, and Dan Haren is now a D'back. Other than that, the teams pretty much stuck with what they had, and the results have been as different as night and day, which considering the make-up of the two teams, is not all that surprising.

The Mets are primarily an old team. Guys like Delgado, Alou, Martinez, Hernandez and Luis Castillo all have had their best years behind them. They are getting older, are extremely brittle, and are prone to injuries. Pedro, El Duque, and Moises Alou are already on the disabled list, and no one really knows when, or if, they will be back. The Mets needed to re-build and go with youth, but instead, gave up a good number of their best prospects for Santana. Other than Mike Pelfrey, who has become a member of the starting rotation by default, the cupboard is bare. There is some amazing young talent in David Wright, Jose Reyes, John Maine, and Oliver Perez, not to mention Carlos Beltran, who is in his prime. For the most part, however, the team is made up of a bunch of old guys an injury away from being out for an extended period of time. Not surprisingly, the Mets so far have only played .500 ball, and are struggling.

The D'backs, on the other hand, are young and rising. Guys like Mark Reynolds, Chris Young, and Justin Upton have all the talent in the world, are just now beginning to come into their own, and are getting better by the day. The line-up is made up of young, hungry, talented, enthusiastic ballplayers who are having the time of their lives. They are hitting the daylights out of the ball, have started the season 10-4, and are in first place in their division. The starting pitching, after Brandon Webb and Dan Haren, was a major question mark coming into the season, but so far, Micah Owings (another young pup) is 3-0 as the third starter, and Doug Davis hopefully should be back after his recent cancer surgery. He was in the dugout the other night, looking as if he was ready to put on a uniform. The bullpen has had a couple of meltdowns, and absent that, this team might have been undefeated so far. Their potential is scary.

Now, I'm no expert, just an ordinary baseball fan who has watched a lot of baseball over the last 40 or so years. It seems to me that the D'backs have done everything right, while the Mets have tried to out-Yankee the Yankees. The D'backs seem to be on the rise with unlimited potential. The Mets seem to be George Forman, trying to make yet another comeback at the age of 48. Care to place a wager on which team will probably go further in the post-season this year?

I'm still rooting for the Mets to start turning things around, and for the D'backs to continue their excellence. I would love to see both of my teams playing each other in the NLCS, although it would tear me apart as far as loyalty is concerned. It's a long season and anything can happen, but so far, it seems like the best of times for the team from Phoenix, and the worst of times for the team from Flushing (although it can't get much worse than last year's end-of-season choke). We'll have to wait and see what happens. Steroids and mega-salaries be damned, I love baseball.

The Boss

2008-04-08T00:02:00.001-07:00

When you go to a Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band show, you expect certain things. You expect Bruce to give it everything he has, you expect the band to cook, you expect to hear a few old nuggets that blow you away, you expect to lose all your inhibitions as you sing and dance with a few thousand strangers, and you expect to feel exhilirated afterward. The difference between your standard, run-of-the-mill fantastic E Street show, and the absolutely amazing thing I witnessed tonight is what I call the "Holy shit" factor. That is, when you suddenly realize that Bruce and the band are playing something you never expected to hear again live, and you can't help yourself from sitting up and saying "Holy shit!" And that's what makes tonight's show one of the best I've ever seen, and maybe the best of all time.

In fact, the show started with a "Holy shit" moment. When you're an insane Springsteen nut like I am, you follow the shows of a particular tour, checking out all the setlists on the Bruce websites. For months on this tour, Bruce has begun just about every show with "Radio Nowhere" from the new album, a great song and one of the best rockers Bruce has ever written. I was ready and waiting for it. What I wasn't ready for was "Light of Day". "Light of Day", are you kidding me? Where the hell did that come from? And almost from the very first notes of the song, I found myself saying, "Holy shit!" To put it simply, it knocked my socks off, and it set the tone for the whole night.

"Radio Nowhere" was next, and that song is simply lights out when you see it performed live. That song segued into a blistering version of "Lonesome Day", and then "Gypsy Biker", which I still maintain is the best song from "Magic." And that led into "Murder Incorporated." "Murder Incorporated," how in the world did that get into the setlist? Five songs into the show, I've now had two "Holy shit" moments, and Bruce had yet to do a song written prior to the '90's, which is pretty much unprecedented.

Next came a hilarious monologue from Bruce. Now, it wasn't one of those rambling monologues from the old days, about Bruce's father and his guitar, or anything like that, but Bruce pointed out that Patti wasn't with the band tonight. He reminded us that he and Patti now have three teenagers at home, and there was some sort of teenage toga party going on, so Patti had to be home to supervise. According to Bruce, it gave a whole new meaning to the term "homeland security." I guess it sounds lame now, but it was pretty hilarious at the time, especially when he joked about the kids ordering a thousand pizzas and baking pot brownies. All the old fogies like me had a pretty good laugh over that. The band then segued into "Magic", and then "Reason to Believe", and while both were great, they are pretty much staples of this tour.

Then came the next three "Holy shit" moments. The first was "Trapped," which is not really a Bruce song, but a reggae song that Bruce had made his own back in the early 80's. He played it at the "We are the World" concerts, and it was sensational. The live album from that show is the only official recording of the E Street Band doing "Trapped", but it soon became a staple on "The River" tour, and it was one of the highlights of those shows. Tonight, it was simply jaw-dropping. Bruce is 58 years old, yet he performed this amazingly difficult and strenous vocal as if it was 1981 all over again. I do believe I had tears in my eyes, it was that much of a joyful shock.

Next came "Because the Night." Why Bruce never officially released a performance of this song is one of the great Springsteen-related mysteries, because he blows away the generic version by Patti Smith. To be fair, Patti did a great job with the song, but she is not Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. And if Bruce's vocal performance wasn't enough, Nils Lofgren's blistering guitar solo was simply unbelieveable. And if all that wasn't enough, the song segued right into "She's the One", which has been played pretty steadily on the tour, but is nonetheless a highlight every night, as the band absolutely cooks on this 33 year-old masterpiece. After singing my lungs out and gyrating like an idiot, I fell back exhausted, and all I could say was, "Holy shit."

Bruce then introduced Tommy Morello (I think that's the guy's name) from the band Rage Against the Machine, which I have heard about only because it is one of my sixteen year-old stepson's favorite bands. Morello came out to join Bruce on "Ghost of Tom Joad", which was my next "Holy shit" moment, as in Holy shit, why is he doing this lame song from that putrid album? Shame on me, because what sprung forth was one of the most powerful and emotional songs of the night, with an absolutely unbelieveable guitar solo from this Morello kid. I will never disparage "The Ghost of Tom Joad" again. It was a "Holy shit" moment for the ages.

The main set on the tour has usually ended with "Badlands", which is one of Bruce's best songs from the "Darkness on the Edge of Town" album, but has been played to death. But instead of ending the set with that tune, Bruce and the band launched into "Out in the Street", one of the best songs from "The River" album. I'm not quite sure it qualifies as a "Holy shit" moment, but it was a surprise, and it sure was great.

The final "Holy shit" moment came with the second song of the encores. Night after night, Bruce has stuck a wonderful old nugget into this slot. Sometimes it's "Jungleland", sometimes it's "Incident on 57th Street" (which I have yet to experience live), and when I saw the band in Los Angeles last October, it was a joyous rendition of "Kitty's Back." Tonight, it was "Rosalita". Yes, Rosie came out tonight in Anaheim, and it was so much fun that nobody cared that Bruce actually forgot the words at one point. Hell, we knew all the words, and we were more than happy to help him out.

As I sit here now in my hotel room in Anaheim, with my ears ringing and my throat sore, it is past midnight, which means I am now officially 50 years old. The first time I saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, I was 17, and my whole life was ahead of me. I am 33 years older, a whole lot slower and heavier (weight-wise), a respected member of the legal profession, a husband, a father, and a stepfather. But in a lot of ways, I feel just like I did that night 33 years ago. I saw a legendary performance by my favorite band, I had the time of my life, and I feel absolutely drained and exhilirated. Just like I did that December night in 1975. Thanks for a great birthday present, Bruce. There's no doubt in my mind that you are still The Boss.

RIP Charlton Heston

2008-04-06T07:32:00.000-07:00

For purposes of this post, I will forget, for the moment, the fact that Charlton Heston became a right-wing, fascist spokesman for the National Rifle Association. I will put out of my mind the image of him as a conservative watchdog for all things I detest.

No, when I think of Charlton Heston, I will think of Ben-Hur. And Moses. And the boss of the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey circus, whatever that character's real name was. And, of course, Taylor, the iconic main character of the orginal "Planet of the Apes", the only version that truly mattered.

When I was a kid, before I knew the difference and understood anything about the art of acting, Charlton Heston was my favorite actor. He played heroic characters who fought for justice and all things good and pure. His portrayal of the stalwart, macho and triumphant Jewish prince in the time of Christ, Ben-Hur, was a role model for every Jewish kid who had ever been picked on or put down, myself included. And from the first time I saw "The Ten Commandments", he was forever the image of Moses: strong, righteous, and the messenger of God. My grandmother told me he was Jewish, and I, of couse, had to believe that, since for crying out loud, he was "Moses", wasn't he? He became my Jewish role model, which for some reason, was pretty important to me when I was 10. Of course, I subsequently found out that he was about as Jewish as Yasser Arafat. Oh well.

The most interesting film he made, and ironically one of the worst performances of his career, was in Orson Welles' masterpiece, "Touch of Evil." By that time, Welles, of course, had burned all his bridges in Hollywood. The legendary director of "Citizen Kane" couldn't direct a television episode in Tinseltown, and had become a Hollywood pariah. Heston was at the peak of his career, having recently starred in "The Greatest Show on Earth" (widely believed today to be the worst movie ever to have won the Oscar for Best Picture) and "The Ten Commandments." Heston was enamored by the "Touch of Evil" project, and agreed to do the film with the assurance that Welles would direct. The studio had signed Welles on to play the part of the corrupt cop, Quinlan, and had no intention of letting him direct. Heston refused to budge, and threatened to walk off the film if Welles was not allowed to direct. The studio gave in, and Orson Welles directed his final Hollywood masterpiece, a moody, atmospheric, absorbing film noir that simply explodes off the screen. From the opening four-minute unbroken crane shot to the brilliant characterizations by Hollywood luminaries like Marlene Dietrich, Joseph Cotton and Akim Tamiroff, "Touch of Evil" is one of the most brilliant cinematic works of art of the '50's. The truly ironic thing is that Heston's portrayal of a Mexican detective is laughable. He's no match, acting-wise, for the beautiful, but hardly talented, Janet Leigh. And he is absolutely blown away by Welles himself, who is terrifying and pathetic as Hank Quinlan. The fact that Welles was not nominated for an Academy Award for his acting, let alone his incredible job of directing, is one of the great embarassments of the Academy. Nevertheless, "Touch of Evil" is one of the greatest films ever made, and its existence is owed in no small part to Charlton Heston. For that reason alone, he should be regarded as an icon of the American cinema.

In the '60s, Heston became a star of offbeat, science fiction films, the best of which was "Planet of the Apes." I think I was 10 years old when "Apes" came out, and every kid I knew saw the movie multiple times. Today, the film is regarded as a true classic, filled with wonderful paradoxes, intelligent dialogue (courtesy of Rod Serling's script), excellent photography, great performances by veteran actors in perfect ape make-up, and a legendary, powerful final image. The scene where Heston's character, Taylor, and his fellow astronauts find themselves in a group of mute humans, being hunted by talking apes with guns and horses, is truly terrifying. Heston followed that role with films such as "The Omega Man" and "Soylent Green", and if those movies were not quite as good as "Apes", they were nonetheless interesting and provocative.

So, for giving us "Touch of Evil", and his legendary roles as Ben-Hur, Moses, Taylor and the circus boss, not to mention a whole bunch of others, like Andrew Jackson, and the futuristic characters in "Soylent Green" and "The Omega Man", there will always be a warm spot in my heart for Charlton Heston. Rest in peace, Mr. Heston, and thank you.

Let's Go, Mets

2008-03-31T20:14:00.000-07:00

Well, for one day at least, the New York Mets are on top of the heap in the National League East. Johan Santana, the 130 million dollar man, pitched a great game and the offense came through with a big six-run inning, topped off by David Wright's bases-clearing double.

There is probably no other team, not even the crosstown Yankees, that has more pressure on them than the Mets. Two years ago, they probably had the best team in baseball, yet they allowed a clearly inferior Cardinals team to beat them in the NLCS, depriving the Mets from a berth in the World Series. No Mets fan will ever forget the excruciating sight of Carlos Beltran watching a called strike three with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the ninth of game seven.

Last year was supposed to be the year that would make things right, and after leading the division for the first 22 weeks of the season, the Mets succombed to one of the all-time collosal collapses in all of Major Leage history. It was horribly brutal. No, it was worse than that, it was potentially devestating.

So, the Mets opened up their checkbooks one more time and signed Santana to the richest contract of any pitcher in baseball history. And, for all those untold millions, he is expected to do only one thing, lead the Mets to a championship. Sure, no one single ballplayer can bring about a championship. And sure, the Mets have to hope that Pedro Martinez is healthy and at least somewhat like his former self, and Carlos Delgado regains his power-hitting stroke, and Carlos Beltran stays healthy all year, and Jose Reyes does not falter again in the last six weeks of the season, and Moises Alou quickly comes off the DL, and John Maine and Oliver Perez continue to improve, and the bullpen doesn't implode like it did last year. That's an awful lot of ifs, not to mention an awful lot of pressure on Johan Santana.

But that's the way it is with the '08 Mets. Santana was brought over to win a championship, nothing less will suffice. And if it does not happen, you can bet that manager Willie Randolph will be gone. And maybe general manager Omar Minaya. The future is now for the New York Mets. Welcome to the Big Apple, Johan.

Hillary Clinton

2008-03-26T06:03:00.000-07:00

When Bill Clinton lied about cheating on his wife, it really didn't bother me all that much. It was something I could understand, if not condone. After all, it's the ingrained behavior of a cheating spouse; when caught in the act, deny it. Of course, Bill took it way too far when he continued to lie about it, even under oath, and it pretty much destroyed the viability of his presidency. Still, I maintain to this day, if he had just apologized for it, it would have been no big deal. No such chance with the Clintons.

Hillary has now set a new standard for lying, in my opinion. In case you haven't heard about it, when she was First Lady, Hillary and her daughter, Chelsea, traveled to Bosnia while that nation was in the middle of its bloody conflict. Hillary, in a recent speech, talked about landing in the middle of vicious fighting, and how she had to run for her life, and was lucky to get out alive. Dramatic stuff, and very compelling. Except for one critical element: it was a complete lie. Not only that, there were other people there, including the "comedian", Sinbad, who quickly came forward and said that Hillary's revisionist account of the incident was total fiction. To make matters worse, CBS News was there to cover her arrival in Bosnia, and had filmed the whole thing. The footage was aired yesterday on the morning news, and it was proof positive that Mrs. Clinton calculatedly made up the whole thing.

Hillary would like to brush all this off by saying she was just "mistaken". But I don't believe it's that easy. Think of the arrogance of the whole thing, Hillary's deliberate and calculated lie to make her look heroic, completely ignoring the fact that there were dozens, if not hundreds, of witnesses present. Think of the insult to the soldiers who faced real combat in Bosnia, only to have their experience trivialized. Think of the condescending attitude she exhibited to the American people as a whole, as if we're just stupid children who would embrace her "heroism", despite the proof to the contrary. If Hillary can so coldly lie about something like this, something that can so easily proven to be a lie, how can the American people believe her about anything? How can she be trusted?

Well, to put it bluntly, she can't. I've been ambivalent in the past about the storied Clinton "waffling," but this latest incident has finally sealed the deal for me. I can fully understand now why many people despise Hillary Clinton. I can understand why people feel she cannot be trusted. You can now put me in that camp. If Hillary wins the nomination, the Democrats will lost my vote in the election. I would rather vote for a third party candidate, or not at all, than vote for this despicable person.

RIP '07-'08 Arizona Wildcats

2008-03-23T08:13:00.000-07:00

So maybe I, as well as thousands of incensed ASU fans, were right after all. After yet another uninspiring performance from this year's version of the Arizona Wildcats, and another first-round exit from the NCAA Tournament, this year's forgettable season has come to a merciful end. Once again, the team played without any passion, once again Jawaan McClellan completely disappeared, once again interim (and hopefully never-again-to-be) coach Kevin O'Neil ignored his bench as if those guys weren't even there, and once again the Wildcats faded down the stretch and lost, this time to West Virginia. It's funny, but never once during the entire game, not when the score was tied or those occasions when Arizona actually had the lead, did I ever believe that the Wildcats could win. And, of course, they proved me correct. It's pretty sad how this once imposing program has fallen to the scrapheap. A seventh-place regular season conference finish, another first round exit, a controversial selection to the tournament, and probably the worst coaching job we've seen since Lute Olson came to town, not to mention the disaster of Olson's "leave of absence". Thank God it's over.

The tournament itself has been outstanding, as usual. Of course, my bracket is a mess. My final four selections are all still there, but I had both Duke and Clemson making it to the Round of Eight. D'oh!! I did pick one of the upsets correctly (Western Kentucky) and I even have them winning today. But, I think I'm pretty much done. Oh well, it's always fun even though I never win.

And speaking of never winning, perhaps my friend, Red Mind in a Blue State, and I were a little too quick to write off the Phoenix Suns' acquisition of Shaquille O'Neal? Since the ignominious 3-6 start to the Shaq era, the Suns have now reeled off seven straight wins. Last night, they beat the Houston Rockets (they of the recent 22 game winning streak) and they are now the number three seed in the West. Shaq has been a consistent force in the middle, grabbing 13 rebounds in last night's game, although he will never again be the offensive force he was in his prime. That's all right, since the Suns get plenty of offense from Steve Nash, Amare Stoudemire and the rest of the team. If the Suns continue to play the way they're playing..... I guess I'll just leave that thought alone for now.

NCAA Tourney and other stuff

2008-03-17T20:08:00.000-07:00

NCAA TOURNAMENT

So, the Arizona Wildcats made it to the Big Dance after all. It's interesting that one of the teams tied for 5th place in the Pac-10 regular season standings (Oregon) and the 7th place team in the Pac-10 (Arizona) made it in, but the other team tied for fifth place (Arizona State) did not. Not only that, but as I've said in a previous post, ASU swept Arizona this year. Clearly, Arizona State got screwed.

All day long today I've heard about UA's strength of schedule and strong RPI getting them in, while ASU's weak RPI hurt their chances. Yet, I can't buy it. The Pac-10 was easily the best or second-best conference in the nation this year. The Big East got 8 teams in, while the Pac-10 got 6. The last Big East team to get in (Villanova) was obviously a bad choice. Their RPI and strength of schedule was probably worse than ASU's, and a better decision would have been to exclude them, invite ASU, and have both the Big East and Pac-10 with 7 teams each. Don't get me wrong, I'm a UA Wildcat fan to the core, and our arch rivals are the ASU Sun Devils. I've spent the last 25 years hating them. But make no mistake about it, they got screwed. If UA was good enough to get in, so was ASU.

My Final Four choices are North Carolina, Georgetown, UCLA and Stanford, with UCLA beating North Carolina in the final game. Bring it on!!!

PAUL McCARTNEY'S DIVORCE

I can't help but feel sickened by seeing Heather Mills McCartney ending up with almost 50 million dollars in the divorce settlement with Sir Paul. She just seems to me to be the ultimate gold-digger. They were only married for what, four years or so. She wasn't there for his glory years with The Beatles or Wings, she wasn't part of the raising of most of his children, and while she gave him a baby girl, we're not talking about child support here, we're talking about Heather's portion of the estate. It just doesn't sit right with me, not that that matters to anyone, other than me.

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (spoilers alert)

Like seemingly every year, I am playing catch-up with the Academy Award winners. I finally got to see this movie, and I thought it was great, although not as great as "Fargo". Javier Bardem was the scariest villain in a movie since Anthony Hopkins in "Silence of the Lambs", and the Coen Brothers have clearly gotten over their recent slump. However, I have three questions that either I couldn't figure out from the movie, or the movie just didn't tell us:
1. What happened to the money?
2. How did the Mexicans find Lewellyn's motel? If they were following his wife, she hadn't gotten there yet, so how did they do it?
3. Did Anton kill Lewellyn's wife, or not?

All comments/theories are welcome.

THE SEEGER SESSIONS BAND LIVE IN DUBLIN

As an earlier post of mine declared, I am no fan of Bruce Springsteen's Seeger Sessions album, "We Shall Overcome." After four or five unsuccessful attempts, I was finally able to listen to the whole thing recently. And while some of it is all right, there is way too much stuff like "Erie Canal", "Froggy's Gone a-Courtin'", and "John Henry." Sorry, but those songs may have captivated me when I was five years old, but not anymore. And I still say there are just too many instruments in the band.

So I was totally shocked a few weeks ago, when I found myself in an excellent used record/CD store in Phoenix and stumbled across a used copy of the double CD of the Sessions Band playing live in Dublin. The setlist intrigued me, as it included Springsteen standards such as "Blinded by the Light", "Growin' Up", "Atlantic City", "Further on up the Road", and "Long Time Comin'". Since it was only eight bucks, I picked it up.

And holy crap, it's actually pretty good. In fact, it's downright great in spots. There's still some bad songs that bring the whole energy to a screaming halt ("Highway Patrolman", for example), but for the most part, this thing cooks. Mixing elements of bluegrass, New Orleans jazz, gospel, and folk, the songs are hot and the performance is outstanding. The new versions of the old classics are terrific, and Bruce sounds like he's having a blast. Damn, I actually regret now not seeing a show on that tour. Oh well.

Only three more weeks til Bruce and the E Street Band!!!!!

The Arizona Wildcats don't deserve an NCAA Tournament bid

2008-03-14T10:38:00.000-07:00

This year's version of the University of Arizona Wildcats basketball team does not deserve an at-large bid in the NCAA Tournament. Last night's loss to Stanford in the quarterfinals of the Pac 10 Tournament was pathetic, the Wildcats clearly lacked urgency and desire. Chase Budinger is too laid back, he is not a leader. Jerryd Bayless, Nic Wise, and Jordan Hill all played their hearts out, but it seemed like they were rolling rocks uphill. Jawaan McClellan, a high school All-American, has seemingly disappeared. Interim head coach Kevin O'Neil simply refused to use his bench, and the five starters were obviously exhausted by the middle of the second half, when Stanford pulled away. You've got players sitting there on the bench in uniform, Kevin, why not use them? It was frustrating.

The pundits are all talking about the Wildcats' strength of schedule and RPI as justification for them getting into the Big Dance. With apologies to all my fellow Wildcat fans, I completely disagree. It's one thing to play a tough schedule, but you have to suck it up and beat some of those teams. The Wildcats were a bucket away from beating Stanford twice in the regular season, a terrible referee's call from beating UCLA, a basket away from beating Kansas, etc. Who really cares? All of those games were winnable for the UA, and they simply did not get the job done. They just did not have the heart and desire to get there. They were swept by Stanford (three games), UCLA, and ASU, for crying out loud.

This year's version of the Wildcats is simply not a good team. They are a collection of good players, some of them very good (Bayless, Budinger, Hill), but they have not played like a team all season. Last night was no different. The coaching was bad, the desire disappeared in the second half, the starters were obviously exhausted (there was nothing even resembling a fast break), the supporting cast for Stanford were able to dominate (forget about the unstoppable 7 foot tall Lopez twins, it was the other guys who made the difference last night), and the Cats looked like they simply gave up.

So now the Wildcats will await their fate, root for other bubble teams to lose, and hope that the selection committee lets them in based on their schedule (number one in the nation as far as degree of difficulty), the toughness of the conference, an overall winning record, and respect for the program. The Wildcats have been in the Big Dance for the last 23 consecutive years. The only way they make it to number 24 is if they are let in as a charity case. I hope it doesn't happen.

Elliot Spitzer

2008-03-12T19:56:00.000-07:00

I don't know whether I have anything new or unique to say about Mr. Spitzer and his fall from grace, but everyone else seems to be blogging about it, so I may as well join the crowd. My initial reaction is that he's a total idiot, as arrogant as they come, and he got what he deserved. I suppose that's kind of harsh, but seriously, what the hell was he thinking? Is he a sex addict, a slave to his addiction just like an alcoholic or drug addict? Could be. But I believe that if you have that sort of inclination, you need to come down from the holier-than-thou pedastel, and not act as if you are better and more righteously moral than anyone else. We are all fallible humans, we all have our faults. Just don't make yourself out to be high and mighty and above everyone else.

There's been a lot said about his wife, and her standing by her man at the excruciatingly difficult press conferences. I want to believe that she loves him, warts and all, and wants to preserve her family for their children's sake. But I wonder. Didn't we see all this before when Hillary Clinton stood beside her cheatin' man, when we all know that what she really wanted to do was scratch his eyes out? Does Mrs. Spitzer have future aspirations that cause her to play the part of the suffering wife, or is it genuine? Who knows? And, when it comes right down to it, who really cares? Do I (or anyone for that matter) have the right to comment on the Spitzer's or the Clinton's marriages? Of course, the ones I really feel sorry for are the kids. They certainly don't deserve the humiliation they must be feeling, not to mention the crap they will probably take from their peers. It's all pretty ugly, all the way around.

Thoughts for a Sunday Afternoon

2008-03-09T15:30:00.000-07:00

The Phoenix Suns won a big game today at home against their nemesis, the reigning World Champion San Antonio Spurs. The Suns have been less than overwhelming since the Shaquille O'Neal trade, going 3-6, and descending from the best record in the Western Conference to sixth place. The entire team seems to have been in a funk, the defense has been atrocious, Shawn Marion has obviously been missed, and the team had not been able to smoothly incorporate Shaq into the offense. Going into today's game, the team had lost 4 out of the last 5 and three in a row at home. The Spurs, of course, are the team that eliminated the Suns last year in the playoffs, after a controversial foul where Robert Horry decked Steve Nash into the scorer's table, prompting Amare Stoudemire and Boris Diaw to rush the floor. Both players were suspended for a game, and the Spurs were able to turn the tables and beat the Suns. No one who lives here in the Phoenix area has been able to let that go. Obviously, this was a big time game for the Suns. And, for the first time in about two weeks, they stepped up big. They limited the Spurs to a total of 87 points, but more importantly, only two in the last four minutes. The Suns erased a five point deficit and won by seven by going on a 14-2 run in the last five minutes of the game. Steve Nash played with passion and defensive intensity, Amare Stoudemire was a stud as usual, and Shaq easily played his best game as a Sun, with double figures in points and rebounds, several big-time blocks, and excellent defense on Tim Duncan. No, he is not the great Shaq of the past, but for today, he was clearly enough. If the Suns can build on this win and finish the season strong, and Shaq can continue to play like he did today, the Suns will be tough to beat in the playoffs. This was probably the biggest win of the year for the Suns, all things considered.

The Arizona Wildcats, on the other hand, are in deep trouble. For the first time since Lute Olson's very first season (83-84), the Wildcats finished the regular season with a losing record in the Pac 10 conference, 8-10. That finish was good enough for seventh place in the conference, which before this weekend was completely unfathomable. The Wildcats are clearly on the NCAA Tournament bubble, and need to win at least one, and probably two games in the Pac 10 Tournament to make it to the Big Dance. Obviously, it's been a frustrating and difficult season for this once proud program. Lute Olson has been on a leave of absence all year, and he either needs to retire with dignity or come back and lead his team. The uncertainty has been emotionally devestating for the team, and has been a major factor in the team's performance. Injuries have also played their part, but previous Wildcat teams have played through injuries, and it's been disappointing, to say the least, to see this team underachieve all year. We'll see what these players, injury-free for the first time since December, have in them when the Conference tournament begins on Wednesday.

John McCain was at the Suns game today, and I firmly believe that he will be our next President. While he should be an improvement over W (which is not saying a whole lot), I have a great deal of fear about a McCain presidency. He has not done a whole lot of good things for the State of Arizona during his tenure in the Senate, and he is definitely a loose cannon. He has said things like the Iraq War will drag on for a hundred years, and I fear that he will bring back the draft. We are edging deeper and deeper toward a recession, or worse, and I have no faith that McCain has any clue what to do to bring us out of it. As senator, he supported and allowed the unbridled growth that took place in Arizona in the last five years, without any limits or controls. Now, that policy has completely backfired, as the housing industry has collapsed, many newly-built homes remain empty, and future projects which have been given the go-ahead have been stalled. Many people in Arizona stand to be ruined by the complete reversal of the home-building boom.

And, of course, let's not forget the impending oil crisis. Gas prices have risen about 35 cents per gallon in the last two weeks, and our state is pitifully prepared to offer alternatives to driving. For example, I work 37 miles from my home, in a different county, and there is no alternative to driving my vehicle to and from work. Most Arizonans are in the same boat. The bus system in Phoenix and Tucson are mediocre, at best. Phoenix is building a light rail system, but it is still about a year away from completion. I can't help but feel that disaster is looming ahead.

As for the Democrats, there is no doubt in my mind that Hillary Clinton is completely unelectable. While she has taken states like Texas and Ohio in the primaries, there is no way she can win those states in the general election. For the most part, Hillary is despised and mistrusted. She would be trounced by McCain. As far as Barack Obama is concerned, he stands a better chance than Hillary, although I won't believe this country is ready to elect a black man as President until it actually happens. Sorry, but I live in an area of the country where racial prejudice (both subtle and not-so-subtle) is very much alive and well. Obama would lose big in the South and the West (including California, in my humble opinion) and I just don't believe he will be able to defeat McCain.

And even if either of the Democratic candidates could actually beat out McCain, would it make that much of a difference? Would either one have the strength or fortitude to bring our troops back home from Iraq, if that is even possible at this point? Would they be able to steer us out of the impending economic disaster? What about the Israeli-Palestinian crisis, and the recent upsurge in violence in that region? Can any one of the trilogy of McCain, Clinton or Obama do anything to avoid further bloodshed and disaster in that corner of the world? It's all pretty scary, when you stop and think about it. And I haven't even mentioned the subject of terrorism.

When we get to November, I will vote for whomever the Democrats select, Clinton or Obama. In my opinion, the Republicans have done nothing less than get us into another Vietnam situation and bring us to the brink of economic disaster. When you add to that the fact that they are the party which supports the repeal of legal abortion, mandatory school prayer (which as a non-Christian, I find reprehensible), mandatory term limits (which would pretty much make irrelevant such political stalwarts as Morris Udall), and the agenda of the Religious Right (which again I find reprehensible and anathema to what the Constitution stands for), the choice seems pretty simple to me. I am ready for change, and I will be voting Democratic in November. I want a Democratic President choosing future Supreme Court justices and leading this nation, and hopefully making a real difference in Washington. The Republicans have had their chance, and they have screwed things up royally. It's time for a change.

Duma Key

2008-02-26T19:10:00.000-08:00

It's not easy being one of Stephen King's "constant readers", as he refers to his die-hard fans. You tell yourself that you're an intellectual and that you have a well-rounded interest in the literary world, but when you bring King up to one of your friends, you're always met with the gently condescending line about him being "the guy who writes those scary stories." And of course, they are correct, Stephen King is the modern-day "master of horror" and you'd be hard-pressed to find anything scarier than "The Shining", "It", or "Salem's Lot." But there is so much more to Stephen King than that.

King has dabbled in fantasy ("The Talisman", "The Dark Tower" series), science fiction ("Firestarter", "The Dead Zone"), prison dramas ("Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption", "The Green Mile"), coming of age dramas ("The Body", "Hearts in Atlantis"), and one very great apocalyptic epic ("The Stand"). He has published novels under a pseudonym (Richard Bachman), and he has given us collections of short stories and novellas that have often been extraordinary. Along the way, he has given us some of the most memorable, absorbing and captivating prose that I have ever experienced.

He hasn't always been great, or even good. For far too long, he was obsessed with writing stories about writers, and for every "Misery" and "Dark Half", there were his share of duds. The last fifteen or so years have produced more duds than classics, with forgettable titles like "Cell", "Gerald's Game", "Dolores Claiborne", and "Rose Madder". For me, I know it's a bad Stephen King book when I only read it one time. Whether the cause was aging, or the trauma of the car accident which almost killed him, it was pretty obvious to me that King had reached his peak in the early 80's. The exception to that rule was the last three books of "The Dark Tower" series, which were, for the most part, excellent, although the act of writing himself into the saga and making himself a somewhat important supporting character was pretty stupid, and just didn't work. Other than that, however, the last 15 years have been pretty disappointing.

That, however, has not stopped me from buying and reading every new book King has produced. As any "constant reader" will admit, I am totally hooked. So, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw "Duma Key" staring at me in a Target store a couple of weeks ago. I hadn't heard anything about it, and of course, I bought it right on the spot.

It's easy for me to tell right off the bat if it's a good King or a bad King. A good King will grab me right from the start, and I will be unable to put it down. A bad King becomes a chore, and although I will always finish the book, it becomes more an act of obligation (see the aforementioned "Cell", for an example). I'm happy to report that "Duma Key" grabbed me right from the very first chapter. In fact, the new book has all the elements of classic King: strong characters, an interesting premise, and a story that goes in unpredictable directions. And, oh yes, it also has some extremely scary moments. It takes a lot for me to get scared by a book these days, but "Duma Key" had me actually jumping a few times.

"Duma Key" is the name of one of the smaller and lesser-known Florida keys (at least in the book it is), and it becomes the refuge for the main character after he suffers a terrible accident, which causes him first to lose his right arm, and then his marriage. He ends up renting a home on Duma Key, where he suddenly discovers that he has somehow developed a masterful talent for art, first by sketching and then by painting. Sounds a little dull? Trust me, it is anything but that, and I have no intention of divulging anything more of this wonderful plot. The joy is in the discovery itself.

I won't say that "Duma Key" belongs with the holy trinity of King classics, "The Stand" (my personal favorite), "The Shining", "It", "The Talisman", "Christine", "The Mist", etc. It's too soon for that, and yes, I will have to read it again. I have no problem saying, however, that it is clearly one of the best King novels in a long time and an extremely enjoyable read. I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys a good story, whether you are a "constant reader" or not.

Wow, Stephen King's best book in maybe the last 15 years and Springsteen's best album in at least 25. Not bad at all.

The End of an Era?

2008-02-22T17:08:00.000-08:00

When Lute Olson arrived in Tucson, Arizona, at the end of the 1982-83 college basketball season, he was inheriting a program that had hit rock bottom. In that 82-83 season, the only season for head coach Ben Lindsay, the Wildcats won only four games and only one game in Pac-10 Conference play. They were the worst team in the conference by far. I remember going to a game that year at McKale Center, the opponent was either Oregon or Oregon State, the Wildcats were trounced early, and there couldn't have been more than a thousand fans in an arena that seats almost fifteen thousand. It was so quiet you could hear the players grunt. It was depressing.

I didn't know much about Olson, except that he had built a consistent winner at Iowa. I doubted whether he would be able to do much in Tucson. The UA was basically a football school, and Larry Smith was building a program that was going to consistently go to a non-major bowl game and beat arch-rival ASU almost every year in the 80's.

And then a funny thing happened. Olson recruited an average player that no one else wanted named Steve Kerr, and he convinced local high school phenom Sean Elliott to stay home, instead of accepting a scholarship at Kansas or North Carolina, or any of the other powers that wanted him. The Wildcats posted a winning record in Olson's second season as head coach and made the NCAA Tournament. They won their first Pac 10 Conference championship in Elliott's freshman season. In the 87-88 season, Kerr's senior season, the Wildcats spent a good portion of the season ranked number one in the country (for the first time in school history) and made it all the way to the Final Four. Many fans in Tucson still feel that was Olson's greatest team.

Ah yes, the Tucson fans. They simply fell in love with Olson and his teams. They were talented, the program was clean and bereft of trouble-makers, and they won. Oh, how they won. And the ghost town that had been McKale Center was soon sold out to season ticket holders, year after year. The waiting list for tickets was daunting. Lute Olson became the most beloved celebrity in town, and he and his wife were treated like royalty.

The season after that first Final Four season ended in disappointment. The Wildcats were a number one seed in the NCAA Tournament that year, and they were upset in the Sweet 16 by a young, talented UNLV team that would win the National Championship a year later. The morning paper the next day ran a photo of senior and favorite local product Sean Elliott crying on his mother's shoulder in the hallway right after the devestating loss. It wasn't his fault his team lost, Sean almost single-handedly carried the Cats that night. It was the first upset loss Lute would suffer in the tournament, but it was not to be his last.

Every year, Lute would re-load his team with star players, and every year they won 20 or more games and made it to the Big Dance. The early 90's were marked by devestating, first round upsets to teams like Middle Tennessee State and Santa Clara (although to be fair, Santa Clara did have some guy named Steve Nash leading them). The Cats soon became labeled as tournament chokers, that is, everywhere except in Tucson. Meanwhile, future NBA stars such as Brian Williams, Chris Mills, and Damon Stoudemire came and went. In 1994, the Wildcats went to their second Final Four, as Stoudemire and his talented supporting cast tasted victory in the tournament for the first time. But they were beaten in the Final Four by eventual champion Arkansas (with Bill Clinton rooting for them in the stands) and the following year, Stoudemire's senior season, they were once again upset in the first round.

For the 96-97 season, Olson convinced Phoenix high school superstar Mike Bibby to bring his immense talent 120 miles south to Tucson, where he would join talented players like Miles Simon and Michael Dickerson to form a potent line-up. The regular season was a disappointment, however, as the Cats finished the final weekend with losses to UCLA and USC for a fifth place conference finish. The Wildcats limped into the tournament that year licking their wounds and under the radar. No one gave them a chance. They came from behind with six minutes left in the first round game to pull out a victory over South Alabama. They came from behind in the second game as well, this time beating College of Charleston. The Sweet Sixteen game pitted them against mighty Kansas, the number one seed and top ranked team in the nation. Once again, no one gave the team from Tucson a chance. But the Wildcats believed in themselves, Lute Olson threw a bunch of towels on the court in practice, and asked his team if they were just going to throw in the towel, or give it their best. The fired-up Wildcats pulled off the upset of the tournament, and beat Kansas. In the next game, they had to go to overtime to beat Providence, and the Cats were once more going to the Final Four. Again, no one gave them a chance against mighty North Carolina and Kentucky. In the semifinal game against North Carolina, the Tar Heels (with Vince Carter) exploded to an early thirteen point lead, but Arizona dominated from that point on, and easily won. For the first time, Olson's Wildcats made it to a final game. Their opponent was Rick Pitino's Kentucky Wildcats, the reigning champions. The game was classic and epic, with the lead swinging back and forth, and eventually went to overtime. In the overtime, the Cats missed every one of their field goals. They did, however, score ten points on free throws, and that was enough to win the game, and the national championship. Lute Olson and the Wildcats had once and for all thrown off the label of tournament chokers, and the championship was the very first basketball championship in the school's history. The city (and much of the state---yes, even Phoenix) went wild. The next day, there was a victory parade and a celebration in the football stadium. 60,000 people (including me) were there to celebrate the amazing victory. That championship remains the greatest sports moment in Tucson history.

The ecstasy would prove to be short-lived. The team was upset by Utah in the round of eight the next year, and life got back to normal. The 2000-01 team proved to be loaded with future superstars, like Gilbert Arenas, Luke Walton, Loren Woods, and Richard Jefferson. Injuries and personal tragedy would plague the team. Lute's beloved wife, Bobbi, the "mom" of every Wildcat team, passed away on New Year's Day. Lute took a six-game leave of absence, and the team floundered. When Lute came back, the team re-grouped and rallied to win another championship for their coach in honor of Bobbi. The team would get all the way to the final game, where they were beaten barely by a very talented Duke team. Still, it was the fourth time Lute would lead a Wildcat team to the Final Four.

The seasons after that would always end in disappointment. The teams were loaded with talent, would win 20-plus games in the regular season, make the Big Dance, only to lose early. Lute ended up re-marrying in 2005 and was elected to the Basketball Hall of Fame. Despite the consistency of every team, there was definitely something lacking.

Which brings us to this year. This year's team is talented, with probable future NBA stars such as Jerryd Bayless and Chase Budinger. But just before the season began, Lute inexplicably took an indefinite leave of absence. It soon came out that Lute and his wife, Christine, were having serious marital problems. Assistant coach Kevin O'Neill took over, and Lute will not return this season. In his absence, his team has floundered. There have been flashes of brilliance, with several wins over top 10 teams, and a couple of near misses against Kansas and Stanford. But there have also been losses, far too many of them. They have been swept by hated rival ASU for the first time in 15 years. To date, they have won 16 games, but are only 6-7 in conference play. There are five regular season games left, and the Cats probably have to win three of them to get to 19 wins, a .500 conference record, and a berth in the Tournament. At stake is a streak of consecutive tournament appearances that now numbers 23, the second longest such streak in NCAA history. Winning three of the remaining five games won't be easy, not the least of which since the team has lost four of the last five. The Cats have games remaining at UCLA and Washington State, and have little or no chance of upsetting those teams on the road. That leaves games against USC (at USC) and the two Oregon teams at home. It's a daunting task. Even if they do manage to win those three games, the Cats are still very much a bubble team. The Cats could also make it in if they suck it up and win the Pac-10 Tournament, but they would probably have to beat UCLA, probably Stanford, and maybe ASU. It doesn't look good.

If the Wildcats don't make it into this year's NCAA Tournament, the world won't end. The people of Tucson won't commit hari kari, and life will go on. Every streak must end at some point, it's inevitable. There will be a basketball season sometime when the Wildcats will not qualify for the Big Dance. I just hope it does not end up being this season.

Picking up the pieces

2008-02-19T19:45:00.000-08:00

I never planned on having to start all over again at the age of 49, but that is exactly what has happened to me. As I stated in my introductory post, I used to have a different blog. I wrote about things like sports, movies, music and politics. I also wrote about my job, which proved to be a mistake. I won't get into what I do for a living, but suffice it to say I wrote about a very real situation at work which needed to remain confidential. I named names, and wrote about things that were not public knowledge. The consequences were devestating.

I was placed on administrative leave the day before Thanksgiving, 2006. The terms were particularly uncomfortable, I had to phone or email my immediate supervisor every morning between 8 and 8:30. And then, for the rest of the day, except for an hour and a half at lunchtime, I had to stay in my home. In essence, I was under house arrest. Oh, I could have left the house after my obligatory morning contact, but if I was caught not at home if they checked on me, I would be fired, and at that point in time, I definitely did not want that to happen.

So I accepted the terms, and I waited for them to make a decision. The holidays came and went with no decision and no timetable. It was brutal and demeaning. The truly ironic thing about the situation was that the U.S. Congress passed the anti-Internet gaming legislation, and I no longer had the ability to play poker on the Internet for money. Think about it, I had all the time in the world, nowhere to go, and I couldn't do the one thing that would give me pleasure, play poker online. Every day was just like the next, and I was slowly going out of my mind. Of course, I took it out on my wife, who was a saint for standing by me through it all.

Then, in mid-January, my father had a combination stroke and heart attack. My supervisor gave me permission to spend time at the hospital with my parents. The one positive to this entire excruciating time was that I was able to be there for my parents. Then came Monday, January 22, 2007. My supervisor and his supervisor came down to see me, and they gave me the news: I was fired. For the first time in my life, at the age of almost 49, I was fired from a job. I was in shock. Three days later, my family and I had to make the difficult decision of putting my father into hospice. He died three weeks later, on February 17th.

I was devestated. I had lost all my self-confidence. I was angry, moody and most of all, scared out of my wits. The funeral seemed like it was happening to someone else, everything seemed surreal and dreamy. I was lost. I felt like running away and never being heard from again. I felt like a total failure.

A week after my Dad's funeral, a job offer came up. It was in Phoenix, AZ, about 125 miles from my home. To quote "The Godfather", it was an offer I couldn't refuse. It meant moving, it meant up-rooting my family, and for the next three months, it meant living alone in an apartment with my family two hours away.

It seemed like the perfect antidote. A new job in a new city, a fresh start. And it slowly turned into my worst nightmare. It was, by far, the most difficult, stressful job I've ever had. The expectations were enormous and the workload impossible. There was a tremendous amount of traveling involved, for the seven months I worked there, I drove more than 24 thousand miles. The stress kept me awake at nights.

My family moved to Phoenix with me on Memorial Day weekend. The move was devestating for them. My stepson was 15 at the time, and we moved him away from his friends, his high school, and his freshman football team. My stepdaughter was 12, and she was only slightly less miserable than my stepson. If you've never been in Phoenix in the summertime, you can only imagine the unbearableness (is that a word?) of it. And when you're depressed and unhappy anyway, well, it can be absolutely miserable.

Financially, we were in big trouble. We couldn't sell our old home, although we were able to rent it out for part of what we were paying on it. My wife had trouble getting a good full-time job, and the stress of not being able to pay our bills was added to the stress I was feeling from this horrendous job situation. As each day went by, I was feeling more and more hopeless and desperate. I was ready to take the ultimate step and run away, or even worse, kill myself.

Things came to a head when I made plans to meet my mother at my father's grave on a Sunday in September. When I got to the grave, I completely fell apart and cried like a baby. I told my father I was sorry that I had let him down, and that I would make him proud of me again. And then I heard his voice. He said one thing only. He said: I've always been proud of you. And that was it.

I drove back to Phoenix and things began to change. I got a new job offer, and took it gratefully. The next day, my wife got a new full time job, and things began to get better. Slowly, my depression lifted, a little more each day. We began to adjust to our new home, and the summer finally ended. I felt like I was starting to live again. My mother gives the credit to my father, and says that he is my guardian angel and responsible for everything that happened after I went to his grave that day. Maybe so. All I know is that that moment was the turning point.

So here I am, about to turn 50 in April. I've started a new job which I like on some days, can tolerate on others, and don't hate on most of them. I like Phoenix, it seems to offer a lot more to me than where we used to live. My wife and kids are starting to feel more at home. And I feel like I am actually living again.

Pure Magic

2008-02-12T04:58:00.000-08:00

I first became a fan of Bruce Springsteen's back in 1975. About six weeks after he simultaneously appeared on the covers of Time and Newsweek, Bruce and the E Street Band played at my college in upstate New York. It was a night that changed my life. Bruce's music spoke to me in a way that music never had before, and his live performance electrified me.

I saw Bruce and the band again in 1978 on the Darkness on the Edge of Town tour, and twice more on The River tour. The River was a bit of a disappointment as Bruce edged toward commercial viability. I've always thought it would have made a great single album, but there was too much mediocre, commercial filler to fill it out as a double album. The live shows, however, were still as dynamic as ever. Then came Born in the USA, which I have never liked. Seemingly written for commercial success, the album was of course, a blockbuster hit, fueled by the video of "Dancing in the Dark", with Courteny Cox being dragged onstage to dance with Bruce. It was beyond lame. In between, Bruce released a solo album, Nebraska, which was dark and moody. While I found it to be an improvement over Born in the USA, it still lacked something, in my opinion.

The next E Street Band album, Tunnel of Love, was a major disappointment. I didn't even bother seeing a show on that tour, and soon after the tour, Bruce broke up the band. I was devestated. His subsequent output in the 90's, solo albums like Human Touch, Lucky Town, and The Ghost of Tom Joad, were awful. Bruce Springsteen had ceased being relevant.

And then, in 2002, seemingly coming out of nowhere, came The Rising. Bruce had already re-united with the E Street Band in 1999 (and had done sort of a greatest hits tour), and once more wrote and performed with passion and urgency. Most of the songs were a reaction to the horrific events of 9/11, and songs such as "Into the Fire", "Empty Sky" and "You're Missing" were heartbreakingly powerful. My personal passion was re-ignited, and I saw three shows on the tour.

Bruce's next two albums were somewhat disappointing. Devils and Dust, a morose solo output of mediocre songs, was something I listened to a few times when it came out, and have not picked up since. His next was even worse. Titled "We Shall Overcome", it was an over-blown, over-produced, bloated attempt to re-do standard American folk songs, like "John Henry" and "Erie Canal". I hated it, and once again, avoided the subsequent tour. Constructing a monstrocity called the Seeger Sessions Band for the tour, Bruce broke up the E Street Band, and this time it looked like it was for good.

Instead, once again, Bruce has surprised me. In the fall of 2007, Bruce released Magic with the E Street Band, with a major tour to follow. From the very first time I listened to Magic, I felt an excitement that I hadn't felt in a long time. I listened to it again and again, and made sure to catch one of the live shows on the first leg of the tour, in Los Angeles at the old Sports Arena. In my opinion, it's the best thing Bruce has done since Darkness on the Edge of Town.

The album once again displays the political and social commentary that has comprised so much of Bruce's later work, performed with an intensity and vibrance by an obviously re-invigorated E Street Band. "Gypsy Biker" is a brilliant, biting rock song about a soldier coming back home from Iraq. With an infectious beat and searing guitar, it is one of the best songs Bruce has done in many years. "Living in the Future" is Bruce's biting attack on the America that has emerged in the wake of the George W presidency. "Long Walk Home" is a tight, driving song with a tuneful lyric and a solid performance. "Girls in their Summer Clothes" is a throwback to some of Bruce's best songs from The River, a joyous, fun and nostalgiac "summertime" tune that can't help but put a smile on my face every time I hear it. And, of course, it all starts with "Radio Nowhere", one of the best, pure rockers Bruce has ever done.

The concert was, quite simply, fantastic. Coming in at a solid two hours and twenty minutes (unlike the four hour marathons of the mid-80's), the E Street Band is tighter and better than it ever was. The Magic songs sound even better live than on the album, and the old nuggets that Bruce played that night ("She's the One", "Night", and a phenomenal "Kitty's Back) were flawless. It was the second-best concert I've ever seen, trailing only that very first time I saw Bruce and the band at my college in 1975.

The only disappointment is that, for the first time ever, Bruce is not including Arizona on this tour. Phoenix has always been a supportive town for Bruce, going back to the old days of the first two albums, when Bruce was very much a regional act. He always played Phoenix, and I've seen him on three different tours in three different venues. But not this time.

Instead, I had to go out to L.A. last October to see him. And this year, my wife and I will drive out to Anaheim to see him again, the night before my birthday, as a birthday present to both of us. I'm counting the days.