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At the Intersection of Sports and Culture

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One Book, Two Books

July 22, 2015 by Jon

One book, two books.

Where did they go?

Why the editor and widow we all want to know.

What took them so long to reach the light of day,

and what’s with this moment to have one final say?

 

As kids, now parents, we hold both authors proudly.

One famous for a cat, the other Boo Radley.

Scout and Atticus, the Lorax and Grinch,

what you accomplished wasn’t a cinch.

 

Now after all these passing years what to make of these latest editions.

Should we hold them as gospel or some form of sedition?

One from the good Dr. about house pets and tough choices,

the other from the Mayor of Monroeville who altered characters voices.

 

The patriarch, our protagonist, a symbol of strength and conviction.

Reduced to anger and bigotry please let it remain fiction.

Of course as they say these new stories have more meaning.

Beyond lessons, morals and capitalists leanings.

For no icon is too sacred when money is to be made,

legends belong in the light not hidden by the shade.

 

Ted and Ms. Lee we hold your words dear.

Growing up your books helped us make sense of our fear.

And we promise to read your latests creations,

regardless the provenance of publishers inclinations.

 

As you will forever remains titans for the stories you’ve told.

For hearts and minds young while our bodies grow old.

 

 

A Murderer Enters The Baseball Hall of Fame

July 21, 2015 by Jon

Contrary to popular belief, the most wanted criminal in the world is not Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman, head of the Sinaloa Cartel, who broke out of a Mexican prison earlier this month. No currently, the most sought after fugitive from justice is quite a lot taller than the diminutive drug kingpin and will soon be spotted lurking around the grounds of the historic Otesaga Resort Hotel in the tiny hamlet of Cooperstown, New York. This is because on Sunday, Randy Johnson is scheduled to be inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame but, if aviary officials have their way the 6’10” inch “Big Unit”,  as he is commonly known by accomplices, will be standing trial for murder.

Here are the facts as we know them. On March 24th, 2001, Johnson, already more than halfway through his two decade long career and pitching for the Arizona Diamondbacks, took the mound in a Spring Training game against the San Francisco Giants. It was during the 7th inning of this contest that the absurdly length left-hander delivered one of his patented 95 mph pitches directly into the flight path of an innocent dove. The force of the fastball reduced the the bird to feathers as its lifeless carcass faltered to the earth. Below you can watch the raw, uncut video of the moment Randy Johnson blew up a bird. (Caution…this video contains disturbing images that you’ve probably already seen before. Proceed with caution.)

The Diamondbacks would go on to win this meaningless game while in 2001 the Big Unit enjoyed one his best seasons in professional baseball leading the league in both ERA and strikeouts as well as winning his 4th Cy Young and first World Series.

Immediately following the gruesome incident Johnson demonstrated very little remorse in saying, “I didn’t think it was funny”. Failing to find the humor in the moment does not absolve one of any wrong doing and if the pitcher were really concerned about the well being of the bird perhaps he would have approached the featherless remains to assess whether or not CPR was warranted. Instead he remains dumfounded in front of the mound waiting for catcher Rod Barajas to throw him a clean baseball without any bird blood on it.

Now, 14 years and lord knows how many more dead doves later, Randy Johnson is a free man soon to be enshrined in the Hall of Fame alongside fellow inductees Craig Biggio, Pedro Martinez and John Smoltz, none of whom, as far as we know, has ever been suspected of murdering a bird with a baseball.

Maybe if Johnson didn’t already have a history of attempted manslaughter could we then believe that he didn’t intend to harm that dove however we baseball fans, remember the 1993 All-Star Game at Camden Yards in Baltimore when the Big Unit, then pitching for the Seattle Mariners, almost decapitated Phillies’ first baseman John Kruk. Kruk was so visibly shaken by the near death experience that he could barely muster even a few feeble swings while the only sign of emotion from the sinister Seattle pitcher was a conniving wink and smile.

With members of the Audubon and Humane Societies amongst the thousands of people flocking to upstate New York for this weekend’s Hall of Fame festivities, Major League Baseball remains confident that the statute of limitations on murder of bird by baseball has expired and that the celebration will go off without incident.

Nevertheless, it’s very difficult to appreciate Randy Johnson’s remarkably dominant baseball career while also thinking about that dove’s family, waiting in vain for their daddy to return to the nest. Little did they know that their father was killed by a fastball. But not just any kind of fastball, a Hall of Fame fastball.

A Suitcase For St. Andrews

July 18, 2015 by Jon

Moving Day at the Open Championship.

Where it’s either push your way up the leaderboard or pack your bags for next week because this one has slipped away like the sands of the Scottish coastline, worn down from ages upon ages of waves, tides and tempers. Because if there’s anything a Saturday at St. Andrews can do it’s test the patience of golf’s finest champions as they struggle through earth, wind and fire all in an effort to wrap their sinewy claws around golf’s most sought after jug.

Who will survive moving day and at what cost? Will it be the talented American in search of his first major or the lesser known Englishman hoping to make his countrymen proud? The first few pages of the iconic yellow leaderboard are so full of pedigree that the weekend can’t possibly disappoint. Unless Mother Nature has her way in which case we will enjoy the suffering much more than the players involved, hats and hair tossed about as if they were sticking their heads out the window of a vehicle heading down the road to Glasgow or London. Anywhere but here.

 So enjoy your breakfast and pack a light lunch as you settle in front of the television for hours of vertigo inducing viewing. And always remember which end is up, on moving day at the Open Championship.

A Baseball Buffet

July 17, 2015 by Jon

A second half. Before the belly has been filled. When the appetite still hungers.

A Major League baseball season is not all that different from a four course meal. Spring Training is the soup, warm and salty like your favorite tomato bisque. The first half of the regular season is the appetizer, just enough to hold you over until the main course arrives. After the all-star break and up through September is the entree, the meat of the regular season when the contenders separate themselves from the pretenders like marrow out of the bone. Dessert is the postseason when the survivors indulge in the opportunity at history and the eternal sweetness of a World Series championship.

But back to the second half of the season, a story about to be written. This is the time when doubts are raised and the cream rises to the top. When teams swap high priced stars for unproven prospects like a patron at a five star restaurant returning an undercooked steak in the hopes that it will return at the right temperature just as the colder weather hits and three scoops of the postseason awaits.

Questions about the menu are quite common this time of year. Can the Astros continue their season du jour? Will Missouri remain the chef’s choice with both the Royals and Cardinals playing like a couple slabs of prime cut? And will the Cubs remain in the race like fresh catch or will their season spoil like so many barrels of fish before?

Baseball fans understand that with the second half of the season about to begin now is not the time for the squeamish, for the faint of heart and stomach. If you want to have what it takes to make it through to dessert you better take a few deep breaths and loosen up the belt a couple notches because from here on out the food is served fast and eyes become bigger than stomachs.

Home for Golf at the Home of Golf

July 16, 2015 by Jon

The Open Championship has never been sweeter than watching St. Andrews from the center of my sofa.

And while a pint would be nice I’ll take a coffee instead. Caffeine over alcohol is my morning vice.

The wind blows cross the Old Course as if propelled out an overinflated set of bagpipes. While, in my house, a warm breeze gently caresses my skin, urging me to get outside and enjoy the beautiful summer day.

I resist mother nature’s siren song and remain indoors, glued to me television screen. Unwilling to flinch or blink for fear that I’ll miss something from Scotland.

Until that is it’s time to take a mid morning snooze. By then St. Andrews will have proven itself fit for a perfect weekend of watching and dreaming.

About aces, eagles and birdies. Fish, chips and Claret Jugs. All the things that make golf so special. Here at my home of golf.

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