George Plimpton, redux

Whether you’re an armchair quarterback or barely notice when fall football season starts, you will be entertained by an essay today from my friend and former colleague Stefan Fatsis.

Stefan, a Wall Street Journal sportswriter and author of the popular scrabble book “Word Freak,” recently joined the Denver Broncos training camp to see if he could cut it as a placekicker. He chronicles his experiences and those of his teammates in his new book, “A Few Seconds of Panic: A 5-Foot-8, 170-Pound, 43-Year-Old Sportswriter Plays in the NFL.” An excerpt from the book appears in today’s Wall Street Journal. Even if you’ve never played football, the lessons he learned will resonate with weekend warriors and parents of teens who play competitive sports.

“My goals were twofold, to see if I could bridge the gap a little bit with these guys, with these great athletes,’’ said Stefan in a video interview. “And also to really get beneath the surface of our 24-7 media obsession with sports and find out what the athletes really thought and cared about and felt intellectually and emotionally.’’

    — The Pressure of Competitive Sports

As soon as I read that first paragraph I thought of George Plimpton. And how sports fans don’t have any idea what it’s like to be a professional athlete. It’s easy to criticize, but none of us really knows what it’s like to go out there and get cheered, booed, pursued/harassed by fans, pursued/harassed by the media, etc. Sure, many athletes in the major sports make millions of dollars, and if one is in the public eye one has to expect a certain degree of scrutiny. But it must be odd to have to surrender a sense of normalcy in one’s life.

The WSJ excerpt is interesting, and it makes me want to go read the book. I’ve meant to read Fatsis’ Scrabble book as well. Perhaps I’ll put both on my Christmas list this year.

Maybe DP will interview Fatsis. He’d provide a different perspective on sports. Plus DP et al. have pretty much beaten the NBA draft to death, done the whole “Whither Tiger” lament, and nothing new has come up regarding SpyGate. Thus they need to come up with some new discussion topics.

Good lord, they might actually have to talk about baseball ….

Aloha, Hawaii

Well, darn it.

Hawaii is saying aloha: Time to Reconsider – A Goodbye for Now.

Frankly, I had been getting a little worried when I didn’t see her weekly DP Show summary the past couple of weeks. Also, her post frequency had declined. (My post frequency has declined, too. Besides being swamped with house and garden projects, I’m having my own incipient moment. I need major krinein here in the worst way.)

Personally, I like Palaver better than DanPatrick.com. For one thing, DP’s blog isn’t really a blog. It’s just a running list of topics that Andrew “McLovin” Perloff keeps. Comments are kept in a separate running list. Thus there is no discussion thread: If I want to read all the comments that listeners made about DP’s interview with Ron Darling on Thursday’s show I would have to scroll through every page of comments. It’s not a discussion-oriented layout; it better fits people who just want to dash off a quick comment and then cast it adrift amongst all the other comments. If anything, the format is more of a live chat, but a disjointed chat with the host (Perloff) and the audience in different rooms.

For another thing, the comments aren’t all that illuminating. Certainly some of them are good. But to have to wade through an ocean to find one or two pearls is a bit much. On Palaver Hawaii provides a perceptive take on the show and the show’s topics. Reader comments are tied to each blog post and it’s easy to follow a line of discussion.

At any rate, I’m sorry to see Palaver end. I hope this will only be a temporary thing, but I understand how hard it can be to write something every day. Especially when there are three hours of each show to listen to and digest. And with KO tearing up the pea patch in the news world, it doesn’t look like he’ll ever return to doing sports. Perhaps after the election he’ll be able to do an hour or so a week with DP.

Oh well. I suppose all good things must come to an end. Hawaii, you are the hardwood floor of the DP-sphere and there’s no Tuscany tile coming in to replace you. Where will I find firm footing when I need to look up All Things Dan Patrick?

You didn’t leave me with enough warning to orchestrate a Farewell Tour, but here’s a nice song. Since “aloha” means goodbye and hello (and a whole lot of other stuff), it fits. Goodbye to Palaver but hello as you return to ERT.

Hawai’i Aloha

E Hawai`i e ku`u one hânau ê
Ku`u home kulaiwi nei
`Oli nô au i nâ pono lani ou
E Hawai`i Aloha ê

Hui:
E hau`oli e nâ `ôpio o Hawai`i nei
`Oli ê! `Oli ê!
Mai nâ aheahe makani e pâ mai nei
Mau ke Aloha nô Hawai`i

—————————————

Hawai`i my birth sands
My beloved native home
Joyful indeed am I in your heavenly righteousnesses
Beloved Hawai`i

Chorus:
Happy the youth of beloved Hawai`i
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Come the gentle wind that blow here
Forever the Aloha for Hawai`i

The Dan Patrick Show: Character Issues

OK, so I just got the latest Ebbet’s Field Flannels and this t-shirt made me immediately think of my New York Mets. As of today the team batting average is .254 — which is not good for a team with a $140 million payroll.

Even though DP has been spending a lot of time on basketball (Shaq composing a song to Kobe — how sweet! — and the NBA draft) I’m glad he was able to squeeze in some baseball talk today. And what a plus: he chatted with former Mets pitcher and current Mets broadcaster Ron Darling. I’ve always liked Ronnie, and not because he is one of the few Asian Americans to make it to the big leagues. He’s from Hawaii, which practically makes us related. (I think there are at most six degrees of separation for people who were born in Hawaii.) He was a very good pitcher for the Mets (winning the World Series with them in 1986) and is a great analyst. His work with TBS worries me and a lot of other Mets fans in that the national exposure might lead to a big network luring Ron away from the Mets’ regional network. It was neat to hear that Ron is a KO fan. Why is it that we feel a connection to total strangers who like the same things we do? Gary Cohen, the Mets’ play-by-play man, has mentioned getting home after games and tuning in to the late night “Countdown” rebroadcast. That makes it two out of three, as the other Mets broadcaster is Keith Hernandez (he of the “What’s that girl doing in the dugout?” fame), who expresses a more conservative opinion than do his booth-mates.

In discussing the NBA draft DP brought up the issue of “character issues.” (I liked Paulie’s comment “I don’t have character, but I have plenty of issues.”) It sounds like the big Character Issue Guy in this draft is O.J. Mayo. It got me thinking about baseball (which I think about a lot anyway) and how behavioral and criminal problems of NBA and NFL players often make the news and how little of that you hear regarding MLB players. Or NHL players, for that matter. Baseball and hockey have elaborate minor league systems and most players drafted into those leagues spend at least a few years toiling in the minors. Even guys who sign million dollar contracts spend time in the minors. This means long bus rides between small cities pretty much out in the middle of nowhere and way less than Michelin Guide five-star meals and accommodations. Perhaps this helps to stifle any potential behavioral problems. In a way, it’s a good come-down for guys who grew up as gifted athletes and who were probably spoiled by their families, friends, schools, and communities. A little time in the minors might help with keeping them grounded. Additionally, more players from Latin America and the Caribbean are entering the MLB system and with most of them coming from impoverished backgrounds they have a hungrier attitude than many Americans and this might help keep everyone more focussed on developing their skills as opposed to goofing around and getting into trouble.

The Mets are still playing inconsistent ball, losing a series to the Seattle Mariners. The Mariners are 28-50 and on pace to lose about 104 games this season. This is nowhere near the 120 the Mets lost in the inaugural year, 1962. So we still got that going for us.

And even though our manager and centerfielder got tossed in the 11-0 loss to Seattle’o Murderers Row a couple nights ago, the umpire who did the tossing, Brian Runge, gave us a nice il mio male after conferring with his father, former MLB umpire Paul Runge.

Even umpires can achieve redemption. The apology shows that Runge the Younger doesn’t have a character issue, even if he did let his emotions get the better of him during the game.

Really, the only reason I bring this up is to mention that I used to watch Paul Runge umpire games in the Triple-A Pacific Coast League back in the day when the PCL included the Hawaii Islanders and not the Omaha Royals.

Omaha’s on a coast? The Pacific coast?

This also gives me an excuse to use a great quote by the late Ed Runge, father of Paul and grandfather of Brian, on the task of an umpire:

It’s the only occupation where a man has to be perfect his first day on the job and then improve over the years.

For those of you scoring at home: Yes, the Runges are a three-generation umpiring family.

The Dan Patrick Show: Got Grunge?

Eddie Vedder sighting at Shea Stadium:

Shea1

Shea2

Shea3

Shea4

Shea5

Shea6

He took batting practice with the Seattle Mariners, the Worst Team In Baseball Except When They Play The Mets.

It would be cool if Dan could get Vedder into the studio to talk baseball. Vedder is a huge Cubs fan. He’s in NYC for two concerts and will be in Hartford, CT on Friday.

Why was DP in Houston yesterday? Stalking Roger Clemens, maybe?

Safe at Home with the Metaphor

Unless you are at home in the metaphor, unless you have had your proper… education in the metaphor, you are not safe anywhere.

    — Robert Frost

I wonder if George Carlin was a Mets fan. He certainly understood the game of baseball:

He strikes me as more of a Mets guy than a Yankees guy. I think he would have enjoyed Rick Peterson’s copious use of metaphors. Some might say that the Hippy Dippy Weatherman could have been Peterson’s uncle, or perhaps a cousin.

Maybe the Mets have a problem with metaphors, since they kicked Peterson out of their home. Bart Hubbuch doesn’t seem to be at home with them, either:

Being literal has its place, but come on. Free your mind. Don’t be so shallow.

Bleeding for Dan Patrick — with a side of Keith Olbermann

OK, so I’m preparing to go to the blood bank and do some sympathetic bleeding for DP. Since I know the process will take at least 90 minutes I grabbed some reading material. Flipping through the latest New Yorker to dislodge all those “Subscribe now! Only $1 an issue!” cards (contrary to some, I don’t find these terribly annoying: I keep a pile of them around on which to jot notes and reminders) I saw a drawing of Keith.

One Angry Man: Is Keith Olbermann changing TV news?

I don’t know if the story is flattering or skewering, but I like Peter Boyer’s articles. Although Ken Auletta is more of their regular media writer.

Off to bleed. I’m glad to have something interesting to read while some A-positive is being drained out of me.

The Dan Patrick Show: There Will Be Blood

Inside DP’s circulatory system:

Dan has to provide a blood sample today and he’s been whining about it all morning.

I had a medical condition when I was a kid and so had to have a lot of blood tests, so I got used to giving blood. I like to watch the nurse stick the needle in my arm; I don’t want to be surprised when the needle goes in. What’s amazing to me is that sometimes I wouldn’t even feel the stick. The trick seemed to be to pierce the skin at a high angle, lift the skin just slightly, then lower the angle of the needle and slide the needle into the vein. When a nurse does a nice and painless stick I feel like giving him/her a high five.

DP’s impending trauma reminds me that I haven’t given blood in a long time, so I’ll try to get to the blood bank this week. The blood bank needles are amazing; compared to needles used to draw blood samples, they are huge. The Humvees of Needle World. I’ve always found it annoying that it takes so long to give blood. I’m a good bleeder, but it’s the paperwork that takes such a long time. I wish there was a way for them to streamline the process, but every time I go it’s the same questions. I can practically recite them. I’ve also always found it weird that one of the typical questions goes something like “Has your skin ever turned yellow?” Which is kind of an odd question to ask an Asian, but I don’t get bent out of shape over it.

I like giving blood. It’s about as selfless an act one can perform. Unless you are donating to a loved one or for your own use, it’s a gift you give to a total stranger. I wish I had the universal donor blood type, O-positive, I think it is. Then my blood could be used by anyone. As it is, I have A-pos, which is the commonest blood type. It’s rare amongst Asians but common in the general population.

I’ve also meant to look into becoming a platelet and bone marrow donor.

Why does listening to the DP Show make me think of giving up body parts?

White People Say the Darndest Things

judie4mets wrote in Tuesday Morning Massacre: Wilpons channel Irsay:

PS, did you hear Peterson’s Tuscan Tile comment? It was very funny and very Jacket.

I heard Peterson’s comments live on WFAN and they made me smile. I was hoping someone would transcribe them; I not only found that but also a video:

Former pitching coach Rick Peterson left the hotel here a few minutes before fired manager Willie Randolph. He didn’t take questions, but choked up a little bit as he offered this statement off the top of his head.

“I don’t really want to answer questions. I just want to say that I came here five years ago, and Fred and Jeff [Wilpon] gave me a wonderful opportunity. I left Oakland to come here to be with my kids on the East Coast and it’s been wonderful. I appreciated the opportunity and they welcomed me into their home and the home is going through renovation. Sometimes you have to make changes when things don’t go that well, and I’m part of that change. I totally undertstand that. I grew up in the baseball business, and I’m the hardwood floor that’s getting ripped out and they’re going to bring in the Tuscany tile (laughter).

“And it will be great. My heart and soul is with every pitcher that I’ve dealt with here. They’ll always be in my heart and soul. It’s that kind of relationship. I’m sad for that. But I’m also happy for them. There’s a lot of guys on the right track that I hope they stay on the right track. And there’s a lot of guys that are off the track that I hope Dan Warthen can get them back on track.

“This is a team that’s underachieved and I think it will get back on track.”

At that point, Peterson pointed to a bracelet that he wears with silver symbols from Eastern philosopy.

“I wear this bracelet because I’m very in tune with Eastern philosophy and universal law. This is faith. This is compassion, equanimity, and love. And in Eastern writing, they write in symbols and the symbol for problem and crisis they also use for opportunity. I’ve been given a great opportunity here, and once I walk out that door, I’ll seek my next opportunity. I walk out in peace and I wish everybody else here the best – Jerry Manuel, Omar Minaya, Fred and Jeff.

“And hopefully the Tuscany tile will do a lot better than the hardwood floor. Thank you so much.”

And what’s next for you, Rick?

“The car to the airport.”

    from David Lennon’s On the Mets beat

I really like the Jacket. I think he’s one of the top pitching coaches in baseball. His metaphors are excellent, plus he has great hair. It kills me that he’s not with the Mets anymore.

But the crisis/opportunity thing got to me. It’s been out there for years and should really be considered an urban legend but it’s still accepted as fact. It makes a nice story, but it is not accurate:

Like most Mandarin words, that for “crisis” (wēijī) consists of two syllables that are written with two separate characters, wēi and jī. …

While it is true that wēijī does indeed mean “crisis” and that the wēi syllable of wēijī does convey the notion of “danger,” the jī syllable of wēijī most definitely does not signify “opportunity.” … The jī of wēijī, in fact, means something like “incipient moment; crucial point (when something begins or changes).” Thus, a wēijī is indeed a genuine crisis, a dangerous moment, a time when things start to go awry. A wēijī indicates a perilous situation when one should be especially wary. It is not a juncture when one goes looking for advantages and benefits. …

    — Victor H. Mair, How a misunderstanding about Chinese characters has led many astray

OK, so this is nitpicky, especially since I’m Chinese but know more French than Chinese — although I can write my name in Chinese (Hey! Maybe the characters translate as “evil + person”) and count up to ten in Cantonese. And I guess I’m not as offended as Professor Mair on the extremely loose interpretation: I can see how “danger” and “incipient moment” could be translated into “opportunity.” Plus the whole “crisis = dangerous opportunity” deal makes Asian people seem so deep, wise, and inscrutable. I know some Asians who don’t like the “inscrutable” stereotype, but I don’t mind it. I like to keep my cards close to the vest. It keeps those Caucasians guessing.

At any rate, the Tuscany tile farewell speech is vintage Jacket. I am going to miss having the inscrutable Rick Peterson on the Mets. Hope the dangerous incipient moment works out well for him.

And I sure hope he doesn’t have any embarrassing Chinese character tattoos.

Tuesday Morning Massacre: Wilpons channel Irsay

I have a hard time cheering for the Indianapolis Colts.

Peyton Manning seems to be a nice guy, and he does really funny commercials. Tony Dungy also seems like a very good man. I love Marvin Harrison’s all-business, no-showboat style.

But the Indianapolis Colts were once the Baltimore Colts, and the way that the team’s owners snuck them out of Baltimore in the dead of one snowy night is one of the most disgraceful episodes in all of sports.

And now my New York Mets have reached the depths of that disgrace.

My schedule has been awry the past week, so I’ve missed a lot of Dan Patrick Shows. I did catch the tail end of his interview with Richard Justice where they talked about the Mets today. I didn’t think anything of it; the Mets and their poor play have been a story since the middle of last season. I finally got around to hitting my main broker of Mets news, MetsBlog, and this greeted me:

I can’t say it wasn’t a surprise, as the storyline has been a mainstay in Mets news for the past several weeks. Actually, ever since last season when we blew a seven-game lead in September and missed the playoffs.

Still, the way that it has been handled has been ridiculous. Rumors of Willie’s firing have been floated in the media. Over the past couple of days the rumored firings began to include Rick Peterson, the pitching coach (and Favorite of Evil), and Tom Ñieto, the first base coach. It’s like the Mets management was floating trial balloons and waiting to determine the fans’ reaction before making a decision. Boy, now that’s what I call leadership!

OK, so the team splits a Sunday doubleheader with the Rangers, travels to California, wins the opening game in a series with the Angels yesterday, and then Willie, Jacket, and Ñieto are fired.

Uh …

But wait! It gets better …

I read Ken Rosenthal’s column on Fox.com a little while ago and learned this:

The Mets can be very proud: They didn’t fire Willie Randolph on Father’s Day.

No, they allowed Randolph and two of his doomed coaches to fly to the West Coast and lead the team to one last victory.

Only then did the dismissals occur.

In Anaheim, Ca.

Via a press release.

At 3:12 a.m. ET.

Yikes.

I became a Mets fan in 2002 after I got tired of the Yankees soap opera. Now I have the Mets soap opera. Ugh. I still love the team, but I have to say I love them less than I did when I woke up this morning. I’ll be surprised if the move energizes the team; I think their poor play is more a reflection of the players than the manager and coaches. It’s a talented team, but an old team, an easily-injured team, and a team lacking in chutzpah, cojones, and grit.

Right now I feel sorry for the men who were fired. I don’t think the team’s record is their fault. Or, rather, it’s not completely their fault. Everyone in the organization shares some blame. Randolph, Peterson, and Ñieto are just the first to be sacrificed. But sports and life offer the chance for not just failure but redemption, so I hope all three guys will find themselves on a good path again, and soon.

Coming to the Mets fairly recently, I didn’t have to live through the early-60s teams or The Worst Team Money Could Buy team. I did experience the Art Howe years, which weren’t pleasant, although I thought he was a good choice when they hired him. But this is a real test of faith.

The Wilpons, owners of the Mets, are channeling Robert Irsay, the late owner of the Colts, in low-down, dirty dog-ness. But at least they didn’t sneak the Mets out of town. So they got that going for them.

Father Knows Best

“Girls can do anything, Daddy,” she said, curling up in a giggling ball, waiting for the tickle. “Girls are tricky.”

“Oh, yeah, girls can,” I tell her, “especially the tricky ones like you,” and she explodes into a writhing, squealing, little piglet when the tickling begins. We both end up in tears, hers of laughter, and mine of unsurpassable joy and indescribable love, mixed with an aching sadness, for I know she is only on loan to me, and I wish this moment would never end.

    — David Feherty

Father, Son

Father, son
Locked as one
In this empty room
Spine against spine
Yours against mine
Till the warmth comes through

Remember the breakwaters down by the waves
I first found my courage
Knowing daddy could save
I could hold back the tide
With my dad by my side

Dogs, plows and bows
We move through each pose
Struggling in our separate ways
Mantras and hymns
Unfolding limbs
Looking for release through the pain

And the yogi’s eyes are open
Looking up above
He too is dreaming of his daddy’s love
With his dad by his side
Got his dad by his side

Can you recall
How you took me to school
We couldn’t talk much at all
It’s been so many years
And now these tears
Guess I’m still your child

Out on the moors
We take a pause
See how far we have come
You’re moving quite slow
How far can we go
Father and son

With my dad by my side
With my dad by my side
Got my dad by my side
With me