We’re into the waning seconds of regulation in the NFC championship game, all tied at 28, the Vikings have the ball, and they are on the precipice of field goal range. Now…wait a second, Minnesota just received a penalty for 12 men in the huddle. That will cost them five yards of precious field position.
Joe, that’s because Brett Favre is so focused on the game. A lesser quarterback might have noticed there were too many players on the field, but Brett has a one track mind, which is what you really need in a winning quarterback.I agree, Troy. Now the Vikings will try to get back into field range. Favre drops back, he’s got some room to scramble, but he decides to throw for some reason, and the pass is picked off by Tracy Porter. Do you think that was a good decision, Troy?Absolutely, Joe. What you saw there was Brett Favre trying to make the big play. He thought he could bounce a pass right off of Porter’s helmet and into Bernard Berrian’s arms. That kind of circus catch would have taken the wind right out of the Saints’ sails. It didn’t work out, but you can not blame Brett for trying. You simply CAN NOT.Indeed, Troy. Brett Favre is not to blame here. Not for anything, ever. But that pick means we go into overtime. New Orleans wins the coin toss, so they will receive and try to drive down the field for the winning score.Watch Brett Favre watching the game on the sideline. That is the way a true champion sits and watches. Head up, looking at the action. Not to the side, or above or below, but at the action.You wanna talk about a champion watcher, Brett Favre is every bit of that. Oh, and Garrett Hartley nails a 40-yard field goal to win the game for the Saints. Now, Brett Favre will rise from the bench and head down the tunnel into the locker room.This is a player who KNOWS how to walk into a locker room. One foot in front of the other. We are watching a professional.It is just a joy to watch him walk. He walks like a little kid out there! And now he’s in the locker room, and he’s taking his socks off. And he’s placed one of his socks on his right hand, and he’s talking to it. And now the sock is “talking” back to him, like a puppet. Again, this shows leadership. I don’t know any other QB in the NFL who can talk to his socks like that. He is truly greater than Jesus.Now he’s popped the top off of a AA battery with his brute strength, and he’s pouring the battery acid down his throat. Do you think that was a good decision, Troy?I do, Joe. Most coaches in this league will tell you they don’t want their QBs ingesting caustic chemicals, as would most doctors and rational human beings. But Brett Favre didn’t get this far by listening to the so-called experts.We’ll take a break. When we come back, live coverage of Brett Favre lying on the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. And if we have time, a few shots of the team that is technically going to the Super Bowl.
Variety Chronicles Frank Sinatra’s Failed Biker Movie, Part 1
I had an old Uncle Morty who used to be in show biz. He represented small-time acts–dog tricks, plate spinners, head thumpers, that sort of thing. Oh, the stories he could tell!
When Uncle Morty passed away, he left me about 40 years worth of copies of Variety (along with a bunch of bills and unsettled paternity suits, but that’s a whole other story). His will stipulated I could not recycle them or throw them out, so I flip through them now and then.
Earlier this week, I came across a fascinating story about a biker movie Frank Sinatra tried to make in 1966/67 that eventually fell apart. Here’s the article from when the deal was first announced. I’ll post subsequent articles as soon as I can scan them.
Warm Thoughts for a Cold Winter: The Fireside Book of Baseball
I received The Fireside Book of Baseball as a Christmas present, probably not too long after it was published in 1987. There were three earlier editions of the book, published in 1956, 1958, and 1968, respectively. The cover photo has a wide-angle picture taken at Shea Stadium during the 1986 World Series (if I had to guess, I’d say either game 1 or 7, since it looks like Ron Darling is on the mound). It’s an anthology of baseball writing, arranged alphabetically by author, and including all types of pieces. There’s reportage, profiles, biography, fiction, poetry, parodies, and even some cartoons and photos to accompany the action.
I dig this book out at least once every year, because it’s one of the best baseball books I’ve ever read, and probably ever will read. The Fireside Book‘s basic philosophy is, Here’s a buncha stuff about baseball. Enjoy! It’s not meant to be read in order, or all in one sitting. Just flip to a page, and chances are you will find something great.
Like “The Age of the Muffin”, a history of post-Civil War baseball by Robert Smith (not the cure frontman). Or Bill James, in a very un-Jamesian piece, probing the story of a mysterious gambling ring in an obscure Louisiana semi-pro league in the 1940s. Or an excerpt from the autobiography of Japanese home run king Sadaharu Oh. Or a poem comprised of the rules for a women’s softball league. Or an all-too-brief glimpse of Moe Berg in old age, the former major league catcher who doubled as a spy for OSS in the years before World War II.
It has contemporary accounts of famous games, with a heavy emphasis on the 1980s. Like Moss Klein’s account of game 5 of the 1986 ALCS, and The Curse of Gene Mauch. Or Murray Chass’s first-hand account of The Pine Tar Game (proving that he wasn’t always a crabby, bitter douche). Or the magnificent Roger Angell’s take on game 6 of the 1975 World Series.
It has fiction, like a chunk from Robert Coover’s The Universal Baseball Association, one of the greatest and least-appreciated baseball novels ever. And there’s excerpts from works of fiction that aren’t strictly about baseball, like William Kennedy’s Ironweed and Phillip Roth’s The Great American Novel.
There’s even transcriptions of legal documents, like the offical DH rule, and the motion to dismiss that struck down Charlie Finley’s sale of Rollie Fingers and Joe Rudi to the Red Sox in 1976 (and which contains a convoluted and fascinating dissertation on MLB’s antitrust exemption). And a poem consisting of the names and nicknames of 269 players both famous and obscure.
Some pieces have the traditional starry-eyed, childlike wonder associated with baseball. But there’s also plenty of failure in this book, too. And regret. And skullduggery. I like a book that can admit there are plenty of shitty, weird, and wrong things that happen in the game, without seeming cynical in the process.
Unfortunately, this book is out of print now. A fifth edition was published in 2000, but I have never seen it, so I can not vouch for its contents (plus, it too is out of print, so the point is moot). But if you ever spot the 1987 edition of The Fireside Book of Baseball in a used book shoppe or thrift store, snatch it up immediately. No price is too high.