As my wife and I entered the movie theater last Monday, I was keenly aware that what we were about to see wasn't made for me. That being said, nothing could have prepared me for the loopy, loony, over the top experience that is New Moon.
I have probably seen over 1000 movies in my life but New Moon is one of a kind. Having already viewed Twilight, I thought I had some idea of what to expect from it's sequel. Was I ever wrong. New Moon takes the overwrought, Teen Beat romantic intensity and turns it up to 11. There are scenes in this movie that have to be seen to be believed. You could have at some point attached Bella to a flying bovine and charted a course for the moon and I wouldn't have been any more agog.
Let me describe three scenes in specific:
Early in the movie, our hero, Bella (Kristen Stewart) goes missing in the woods on a particularly chilly night. Her father (the town sheriff played by Billy Burke) issues an all out manhunt for his lost daughter. As the flashing lights of police cars surround his home, out of the woods steps Sam, shirtless and shoeless carrying Bella in his arms. Everyone else in this scene is wearing a jacket except Sam and no one says a thing. I assume, at this point in the movie no one knows that Sam's a werewolf. So I would think that if my daughter went missing and a half naked man came strolling out of the woods with the unconscious fruit of my loins in tow that I would have some questions to ask. Not in the world of New Moon apparently.
In another logic defying moment, Bella is in her bedroom pining away for her long lost vampire, kinda-sorta lover Edward, when the occasional werewolf and romantic challenger to said vamp, Jacob gets her attention with a couple of well placed stones against her window. What darkness through yonder window breaks? It is Bella for I am...oh well, whatever, never mind. Anyway, Bella opens the window and Jacob tells her he's coming up. He then proceeds to literally Spider-Man his way up a tree and into her room. Since she doesn't yet know that Jacob is a werewolf, this display of physical prowess should be of some surprise. But does she ask Jacob how he could climb up the side of her house without being bitten by a radioactive spider? Nope.
And lastly, there is a scene late in the movie with the vampire royalty called "The Volturi." Residing in Italy, the Volturi are the vampire law makers or something. They bring forth Bella, Edward, and his sister Alice. The Volturi decides that Bella "has seen too much" and must die. However, Alice--who has the seemingly random yet convenient ability to see the future-- tells the Volturi that one day Bella will be a vampire too. Then stunningly, the Volturi let them go. If that were true, why wouldn't the Volturi force Edward to change Bella into a vampire right then and there. Wouldn't that solve the problem? I guess you're not supposed to ask.
Then there's the dialogue in this movie. In one unintentionally hilarious moment, Bella confronts Jacob about his lupine ways by saying "I guess you're a werewolf, huh." Jacob says "I guess so." To which Bella replies "Have you ever tried not being a werewolf?" Jacob's retort? "It's not a lifestyle choice Bella." I shit you not.
A lot of the acting in New Moon is pretty dreadful as well. Taylor Lautner as Jacob is very much at sea. Looking like he fell off the cover of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue, the boy strikes quite a pose. Unfortunately, he is not mute, which would have really helped his performance. His stilted, wooden line readings make you thankful for the moment he turns into the worst CGI animal this side of the lion Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia. And how about Ashley Greene as Edward's sooth-saying sister Alice? Greene is supposed to be playing a 100+ year old vampire but comes off every bit as flighty and giddy as Bella's human teen aged friends. She has to be the least imposing vampire in the history of vampire movies. And yes, I am counting the tanned, fey Dracula that George Hamilton played in the otherwise forgettable vampire comedy, Love at First Bite. The bronzed California man was way creepier than Ashley Greene. But, both of those performances take a major backseat to that of the eye-rolling, howl inducing performance of Michael Sheen as the head Volturi. Sheen, the very fine English actor who has been well regarded in such high tone flicks as Frost/Nixon and The Queen, comes off like Liberace with fangs. Ok, vampires in the Twilight Saga don't have fangs but you get the idea. Sheen is absolutely camptastic in New Moon. With florid gestures and an excrement eating grin that seems to say "I can't believe they're paying me for this shit," Sheen is a scream. This is the best "knowing" performance in a bad movie since Sam Elliott in Road House. Sheen, like Elliott, is surrounded by "thespians" who treat their material like Shakespeare, all ponderous and self-important. However, Sheen appears to be in on the joke. And boy was I grateful.
I do have to say that I am consistently amazed by Kristen Stewart as Bella. I honestly believe that she deserves some sort of honorary Oscar for the degree of difficulty of her work in New Moon. How she can possibly recite the words of this screenplay with such conviction--let alone a straight face-- is some kind of minor miracle. I think one day she'll look back on the Twilight Saga the same way Natalie Portman must view the three Star Wars travesties she was involved with. They will raise her profile and lead to other, better roles, but not necessarily be what she wants to be remembered for. In fact, I think Portman should take young Stewart under her wing and show her how you can recover from being stuck in overheated nonsense. After all, Portman acted for George Lucas and had to look longingly at Hayden Christensen and say "Hold me like you did on Naboo." Seriously, they should start a support group. And for those out there who think that Stewart can't act because their only experience with her is the Twilight movies, I would suggest you rent Sean Penn's Into The Wild or the indie flick The Cake Eaters for evidence to the contrary. You will thank me for it.
So you're probably thinking right about now that I hated New Moon. Au contraire. To my own surprise, I actually enjoyed it. I think it's the second best "bad" movie I have ever seen. Runner up only to the aforementioned Patrick Swayze TNT mainstay Road House (which if you haven't seen, do yourself a favor and throw away 2 hours of your life. Again, you'll thank me), New Moon is actually a lot of fun. There is something truly admirable about a movie that takes every single swoony second and heightens the drama to telenovela levels. I would go as far to say that New Moon is like one of David Lynch's absurdist fantasies, only without the female nudity, foul language, midgets, and well, artistry. New Moon is absolutely committed to delivering itself to its target audience of 13 year old girls. And no amount of logic gaps, plot holes, bad acting, or common sense is going to get in its way. I think there's something to be said for that type of Ed Wood level drive. Because, regardless of what you may think of it critically, you are not likely to see anything else like it until it's sequel Eclipse comes out in 2010. So sign me up for the next round because the upset of my experience is that while I may have been a stranger in Swoonland, I actually enjoyed my stay. Who'd a thunk?
Sumo-Pop
January 29, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Debaser
On November 10th, 2009 John Allen Muhammad was carried to the death chamber and executed by lethal injection at the Greenville Correctional Facility in Jarratt, Virginia. Muhammad was better known as the "DC Sniper," who with the help of his accomplice Lee Boyd Malvo, was responsible for a reign of terror that resulted in at least ten deaths in and around the nation's capitol. Muhammad and Malvo would stake out a distant position and wait for some innocent victim to cross their rifle sights, whom they would then fire upon. Their actions were vile, cowardly, and disgusting. After they were caught on October 24, 2002 they were convicted of 1st degree murder and sentenced. Malvo received life in prison, and Muhammad was sentenced to death.
For someone like myself--who believes the death penalty should be abolished--Muhammad is the absolute worst case scenario when it comes to defending my opinion. A deranged, unrepentant killer like Muhammad tests my position like few others could. Like I said, he's the worst. And while I am very sensitive to the desires of the victim's family members, I will continue to take the stand that capital punishment has no place in modern society.
First, the adjudication of the death penalty disproportionately disfavors minorities and the poor. In a country where 74% of the population is white, 1768 of the 3572 inmates on death row are non-white. Nearly 50%. It's not hard to ascertain why. Minorities are still economically disadvantaged in the USA compared to the white majority. Often, the difference between life and death is whether the accused can afford to hire a decent attorney or not. Public defenders are much like probation officers: Overworked, underpaid, and with far too many clients to serve effectively. Does anyone seriously think that OJ Simpson would have beat the double murder charges he faced in California had he not been able to buy his "dream team" of lawyers? Former Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black once said, "There can be no equal justice where the kind of trial a man gets depends on the amount of money he has." Ain't it the truth.
Many would argue that the death penalty is a deterrent to others. However, there is literally no accepted scientific evidence to support this. Murder--whether it be of the cold-blooded variety or a crime of passion--is not a rational act. For one to be deterred by the fear of being put to death, one would have to be in their right mind. I think it's fair to say that sociopaths, psychos, and those in a blind rage do not qualify as rational. Therefore, how could it be a deterrent?
It is also irrevocable. Once the punishment has been handed out it cannot be reversed. This is particularly unfortunate for those who may later be proven innocent. As just about anyone can tell you, our justice system is not perfect. Since 1992 DNA evidence has exonerated at least 15 death row inmates. And DNA evidence is available in only a fraction of capital cases. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that if there were 15 innocent people awaiting execution then there are certainly more on death row now who simply lack the appropriate scientific evidence to set them free. I would submit that if there is only one person who fits that description then there are far too many.
Some might also say that it's not fair to ask for tax payer dollars to go towards the health and housing of murderers and rapists. While I certainly understand that point of view, I wonder if those that hold that opinion know that it typically costs more to put someone to death than it does to keep them alive. This is due in large part to the lengthy appeals process that our justice system provides for the convicted. Maybe those same people think we should further limit the appeals process to make it a less expensive process. However, I can think of at least 15 people since 1992 who would probably disagree.
As I said before, Muhammad is the most difficult argument to make for someone like me. His was the very definition of an open and shut case. There is no doubt that he committed these awful, heinous murders, and that he is indeed deserving of severe punishment. So how can I advocate for his right to live (although not to live as he might choose)? Well, because for me, it really isn't about him, it's about us. In the end I believe a policy of capital punishment debases us as a people. I know many Christians point to "An eye for an eye" as it is written in the Old Testament. I would counter that Jesus himself was a victim of a wrongfully adjudicated death sentence (remember he was both poor and a minority). Not to mention, after Jesus came, the Old Testament became just that...old. You see, I always view Jesus as a rather forgiving sort and I find it hard to believe that he would want us to take away some one's opportunity for ultimate forgiveness by executing them. Who's to say that an inmate couldn't find redemption after twenty years in prison? Should they not be afforded the opportunity?
Now, I know that if God forbid, someone that I love were to be murdered that I might feel differently. While I would hope not, I think it's quite possible that if the authorities apprehended the guilty party and the court sentenced the offender to death, I would be more than willing to pull the switch myself. But then what would that say about me? That I would be willing to trade my own humanity for a hollow serving of revenge? And in turn, what then does the continuing existence of the death penalty say about us? The answer isn't pretty.
Sumo-Pop
November 22, 2009
For someone like myself--who believes the death penalty should be abolished--Muhammad is the absolute worst case scenario when it comes to defending my opinion. A deranged, unrepentant killer like Muhammad tests my position like few others could. Like I said, he's the worst. And while I am very sensitive to the desires of the victim's family members, I will continue to take the stand that capital punishment has no place in modern society.
First, the adjudication of the death penalty disproportionately disfavors minorities and the poor. In a country where 74% of the population is white, 1768 of the 3572 inmates on death row are non-white. Nearly 50%. It's not hard to ascertain why. Minorities are still economically disadvantaged in the USA compared to the white majority. Often, the difference between life and death is whether the accused can afford to hire a decent attorney or not. Public defenders are much like probation officers: Overworked, underpaid, and with far too many clients to serve effectively. Does anyone seriously think that OJ Simpson would have beat the double murder charges he faced in California had he not been able to buy his "dream team" of lawyers? Former Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black once said, "There can be no equal justice where the kind of trial a man gets depends on the amount of money he has." Ain't it the truth.
Many would argue that the death penalty is a deterrent to others. However, there is literally no accepted scientific evidence to support this. Murder--whether it be of the cold-blooded variety or a crime of passion--is not a rational act. For one to be deterred by the fear of being put to death, one would have to be in their right mind. I think it's fair to say that sociopaths, psychos, and those in a blind rage do not qualify as rational. Therefore, how could it be a deterrent?
It is also irrevocable. Once the punishment has been handed out it cannot be reversed. This is particularly unfortunate for those who may later be proven innocent. As just about anyone can tell you, our justice system is not perfect. Since 1992 DNA evidence has exonerated at least 15 death row inmates. And DNA evidence is available in only a fraction of capital cases. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that if there were 15 innocent people awaiting execution then there are certainly more on death row now who simply lack the appropriate scientific evidence to set them free. I would submit that if there is only one person who fits that description then there are far too many.
Some might also say that it's not fair to ask for tax payer dollars to go towards the health and housing of murderers and rapists. While I certainly understand that point of view, I wonder if those that hold that opinion know that it typically costs more to put someone to death than it does to keep them alive. This is due in large part to the lengthy appeals process that our justice system provides for the convicted. Maybe those same people think we should further limit the appeals process to make it a less expensive process. However, I can think of at least 15 people since 1992 who would probably disagree.
As I said before, Muhammad is the most difficult argument to make for someone like me. His was the very definition of an open and shut case. There is no doubt that he committed these awful, heinous murders, and that he is indeed deserving of severe punishment. So how can I advocate for his right to live (although not to live as he might choose)? Well, because for me, it really isn't about him, it's about us. In the end I believe a policy of capital punishment debases us as a people. I know many Christians point to "An eye for an eye" as it is written in the Old Testament. I would counter that Jesus himself was a victim of a wrongfully adjudicated death sentence (remember he was both poor and a minority). Not to mention, after Jesus came, the Old Testament became just that...old. You see, I always view Jesus as a rather forgiving sort and I find it hard to believe that he would want us to take away some one's opportunity for ultimate forgiveness by executing them. Who's to say that an inmate couldn't find redemption after twenty years in prison? Should they not be afforded the opportunity?
Now, I know that if God forbid, someone that I love were to be murdered that I might feel differently. While I would hope not, I think it's quite possible that if the authorities apprehended the guilty party and the court sentenced the offender to death, I would be more than willing to pull the switch myself. But then what would that say about me? That I would be willing to trade my own humanity for a hollow serving of revenge? And in turn, what then does the continuing existence of the death penalty say about us? The answer isn't pretty.
Sumo-Pop
November 22, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Game, Set, Match
I've always had an abiding affection for Andre Agassi. In a lot of ways I feel like we grew up together. Before you laugh, consider the parallels: We were both born in 1970. We both grew up with unhealthy father figure relationships. Neither of us got our shit together until our mid to late twenties. I married my wife at 30, he married his current wife at 31. He funds and operates a K-12 college preparatory charter school, and I work for a college prep company. Hell, we even went bald around the same time. We are now charter members of the bullet head society, although I never wore a wig (more on that later).
I'm sure that anyone who pays any attention to sports has heard about Agassi's new autobiography, Open. Aside from hitting the late night shows, 60 Minutes and such, the book has received widespread notice for one particular revelation: Andre's admission that he used crystal meth during 1997 and his subsequent failure of an ATP (Association of Tennis Professionals) drug test. To make matters worse, when confronted by tennis' governing body, Andre lied and said that someone slipped something into his drink. Incredibly, the ATP accepted his explanation and did not suspend him. This new information has brought a fountain of criticism down on Agassi's head.
The two best men's players on tour, Roger Federer and Radael Nadal were particularly chagrined by this bit of news. Their complaints--while relatively respectful--were pointed. In fact Nadal was said to be privately furious. While I'm sure they take issue with the drug use and dishonesty about the failed test, I have a sneaky suspicion that their real complaint is that Agassi admitted his drug use at all. That in doing so, he may have harmed the game itself. Well, I say that's booty. Certainly, Andre must take his share of responsibility for doing meth and then compounding the issue with a falsehood--- what about the ATP? Can you imagine the NFL, NBA, or MLB accepting what amounts to "the dog ate my homework as an excuse? Okay, maybe I shouldn't have included Bud Selig and Major League Baseball. But can anyone seriously imagine the NFL's Roger Goodell or the NBA's David Stern making an allowance for "someone put something in my drink?" Astounding. My guess is the ATP didn't want one of its more marketable names implicated in a positive drug test. Agassi did what a lot of people would have done when they are scared and ashamed. While that may not make it right, it does make it understandable. However, there is no acceptable explanation for the ATP's inaction.
It should be said, though, that the criticism of Federer and Nadal pales in comparison to the harsh words of two time grand slam champion Marat Safin and all-time great Martina Navratilova. Safin went as far to say that Agassi should give back all his titles and winnings to the ATP, while Navratilova compared Andre to Roger Clemens. Few things annoy me more than when a player says that some one's titles should be nullified. It irritates the shit out of me when you hear some former baseball player say that the statistics of steroid users should be wiped from the record books. Look, I don't like it either, but if something happened, then it happened. Someone got all those base hits, home runs, strike outs, and wins. If you want to unring a bell, I suggest you build a time machine. As for Navratilova's comments, they don't even make sense. Roger Clemens lied about steroid use, true enough. Last I checked, steroids are performance enhancing drugs. Have you ever met someone who has a meth habit? Well, I have. I once encountered a 35 year old woman with a meth addiction who looked like she was 55 going on 206. She was as thin as a gnarled sinew and her skin looked like over-stressed leather. The only thing meth physically enhances is your ability to lose a frightening amount of weight and to scratch yourself raw. Nice job of mixing your metaphors Miss Navratilova. Here's a tip: If you're going to criticize someone else, use a comparison that makes sense. You'll find it enhances your argument. Sheesh.
Okay, at this point I'm sure I'm coming off as a bit of an apologist. So let me say this, Andre Agassi is a little like Bobby Knight. Of whom John Feinstein once said, "All the good things you've heard about Bobby Knight are true, unfortunately, so are all the bad things." Did Agassi often take his fitness and talent for granted? Yes. Did he "tank" matches just to get off the court? Yes. Was he a pretty boy who was far too often concerned with image over substance? Yes again. But here's the difference between Knight and Agassi...Agassi changed.
Andre was born unto a classic "Tennis Father." Andre's dad pushed him into the sport and turned his son into his meal ticket. He had little use for his son's education. And at his father's insistence, Andre dropped out in the 9th grade to focus entirely on tennis. Andre grew up hating the game that would make him so rich and famous. It's hard to blame him. When Andre was six years old his father rigged a ball machine with a souped up engine that fired fuzzy, yellow, 110mph missiles at his kid. Like I said, hard to blame him.
Still, the preternaturally talented Agassi became a terrific player. A gifted ball striker, Andre ascended into the top ten in 1988 while still a teen. Many in the tennis world forcasted Agassi as a future grand slam champion. However, in his first three chances to win a slam, Andre choked. One tasty piece of information in Agassi's new book tells the story of his first grand slam final loss to the solid but unspectacular Andres Gomes at the 1990 French Open. Unbeknownst to all but his closest family members, was the fact that Andre's famous mane was not real. The weave he wore to hide his premature hair loss began to come apart the night before the final. Desperate to avoid humiliation, Andre and his brother used scores of bobby pins to hold the hair "system" in place. Agassi played the entire match in mortal fear that his faux mullet would fall off if he moved too much. Of course, moving around is a real necessity in a tennis match and Andre got waxed in straight sets. He did manage to keep his wig on.
Agassi finally broke through at Wimbledon in 1992, defeating the hard serving Croat, Goran Ivanesivic in a 5 set thriller. Andre added two more slams and ended 1995 as the top ranked player in the world. Then things began to come apart. His ranking slumped after a nagging wrist injury affected his serve and ground strokes. By 1997 Agassi was in an unwanted marriage to starlet Brooke Shields and sneaking hits of meth. His ranking had dropped in two years from #1 to 141. He was in free fall. After losing in the first round of a lower tier tournament to a no name player, Agassi's coach challenged him to either quit tennis altogether or start over from scratch. Having earned plenty of money from his on court success as well as endorsement contracts, Agassi--for the first time in his life--chose tennis. He got fit, shaved his head, dropped the jewelry and loud outfits and decided to become a tennis player.
That was when the test positive for crystal meth came down from the ATP. And so Andre lied. He was wrong, dead wrong. Certainly, one could say that "coming clean" now as opposed to when he was still an active player is more than a little "convenient." Maybe so. But how many of us can look back on our lives and not think of something we got away with that we never "came clean" on? Have you ever cheated on a test? Driven drunk and somehow made it home without incident? Or simply told a lie to save your own ass? Who among us would want to be judged solely on our worst moment? Maybe he told the truth to clear his conscience, or maybe it was just to sell books. Only he knows for sure.
What I do know is this: I would prefer to be judged for who I am now as opposed to who I was in my early twenties. And if I apply that same standard to Agassi, I find that there's a lot to admire.
Agassi is one of the few players to peak in the back half of his career. Most tennis greats are running on fumes after they turn 26. Well, Agassi won 5 of his 8 grand slam titles after the age of 27. He is one of six players in the history of the sport to have won all four slams (Wimbledon, the French, Australian, and US opens). He is the only player ever to take all four slams and an Olympic gold medal in singles. Agassi wasn't the best player of his era, that honor goes to Pete Sampras. But he was easily the most unique and dynamic. His transformation from a (mostly) all style to all substance athlete was extraordinary. However, I would say that doesn't hold a candle to the kind of person he became.
After his amicable divorce from Shields, Agassi began dating German tennis great Steffi Graf. This seemingly odd couple proved to be a good match, marrying in 2001. Their relationship seemed to suit Agassi well. Long considered one of the more compassionate players behind the scenes, I think it's no accident that Agassi's greatest achievement came in the same year he was wedded to Graf. I'm referring to the creation of the K-12 charter school for at-risk children, the Andre Agassi College Preparatory Academy. The school celebrated their first graduating class in 2009. The grad rate came in at 100%, and all of the students will be attending college. This school came from the imagination and commitment of a high school drop out and former crystal meth user. Yes Fitzgerald, American lives do have second acts. Agassi has often been noted as one of the most charitable athletes on the planet. His only competition coming from fellow fringe sports star Lance Armstrong.
So that's who Andre Agassi is now. A former athlete and current philanthropist. I'm willing to bet he's most proud of the latter. Misters Federer, Nadal, Safin, along with miss Navratilova can bitch and bemoan his crystal meth confession all they want. They can gripe that the man who wrote a book called "Open" should dare to be exactly that. Maybe one day one of them will open their own charter school and cut the ribbon at the grand opening astride a "high horse."
Of course, I know that judging them against Agassi's greatest achievement is not fair to them, but neither is judging Agassi by his worst. Game, set, match.
I'm sure that anyone who pays any attention to sports has heard about Agassi's new autobiography, Open. Aside from hitting the late night shows, 60 Minutes and such, the book has received widespread notice for one particular revelation: Andre's admission that he used crystal meth during 1997 and his subsequent failure of an ATP (Association of Tennis Professionals) drug test. To make matters worse, when confronted by tennis' governing body, Andre lied and said that someone slipped something into his drink. Incredibly, the ATP accepted his explanation and did not suspend him. This new information has brought a fountain of criticism down on Agassi's head.
The two best men's players on tour, Roger Federer and Radael Nadal were particularly chagrined by this bit of news. Their complaints--while relatively respectful--were pointed. In fact Nadal was said to be privately furious. While I'm sure they take issue with the drug use and dishonesty about the failed test, I have a sneaky suspicion that their real complaint is that Agassi admitted his drug use at all. That in doing so, he may have harmed the game itself. Well, I say that's booty. Certainly, Andre must take his share of responsibility for doing meth and then compounding the issue with a falsehood--- what about the ATP? Can you imagine the NFL, NBA, or MLB accepting what amounts to "the dog ate my homework as an excuse? Okay, maybe I shouldn't have included Bud Selig and Major League Baseball. But can anyone seriously imagine the NFL's Roger Goodell or the NBA's David Stern making an allowance for "someone put something in my drink?" Astounding. My guess is the ATP didn't want one of its more marketable names implicated in a positive drug test. Agassi did what a lot of people would have done when they are scared and ashamed. While that may not make it right, it does make it understandable. However, there is no acceptable explanation for the ATP's inaction.
It should be said, though, that the criticism of Federer and Nadal pales in comparison to the harsh words of two time grand slam champion Marat Safin and all-time great Martina Navratilova. Safin went as far to say that Agassi should give back all his titles and winnings to the ATP, while Navratilova compared Andre to Roger Clemens. Few things annoy me more than when a player says that some one's titles should be nullified. It irritates the shit out of me when you hear some former baseball player say that the statistics of steroid users should be wiped from the record books. Look, I don't like it either, but if something happened, then it happened. Someone got all those base hits, home runs, strike outs, and wins. If you want to unring a bell, I suggest you build a time machine. As for Navratilova's comments, they don't even make sense. Roger Clemens lied about steroid use, true enough. Last I checked, steroids are performance enhancing drugs. Have you ever met someone who has a meth habit? Well, I have. I once encountered a 35 year old woman with a meth addiction who looked like she was 55 going on 206. She was as thin as a gnarled sinew and her skin looked like over-stressed leather. The only thing meth physically enhances is your ability to lose a frightening amount of weight and to scratch yourself raw. Nice job of mixing your metaphors Miss Navratilova. Here's a tip: If you're going to criticize someone else, use a comparison that makes sense. You'll find it enhances your argument. Sheesh.
Okay, at this point I'm sure I'm coming off as a bit of an apologist. So let me say this, Andre Agassi is a little like Bobby Knight. Of whom John Feinstein once said, "All the good things you've heard about Bobby Knight are true, unfortunately, so are all the bad things." Did Agassi often take his fitness and talent for granted? Yes. Did he "tank" matches just to get off the court? Yes. Was he a pretty boy who was far too often concerned with image over substance? Yes again. But here's the difference between Knight and Agassi...Agassi changed.
Andre was born unto a classic "Tennis Father." Andre's dad pushed him into the sport and turned his son into his meal ticket. He had little use for his son's education. And at his father's insistence, Andre dropped out in the 9th grade to focus entirely on tennis. Andre grew up hating the game that would make him so rich and famous. It's hard to blame him. When Andre was six years old his father rigged a ball machine with a souped up engine that fired fuzzy, yellow, 110mph missiles at his kid. Like I said, hard to blame him.
Still, the preternaturally talented Agassi became a terrific player. A gifted ball striker, Andre ascended into the top ten in 1988 while still a teen. Many in the tennis world forcasted Agassi as a future grand slam champion. However, in his first three chances to win a slam, Andre choked. One tasty piece of information in Agassi's new book tells the story of his first grand slam final loss to the solid but unspectacular Andres Gomes at the 1990 French Open. Unbeknownst to all but his closest family members, was the fact that Andre's famous mane was not real. The weave he wore to hide his premature hair loss began to come apart the night before the final. Desperate to avoid humiliation, Andre and his brother used scores of bobby pins to hold the hair "system" in place. Agassi played the entire match in mortal fear that his faux mullet would fall off if he moved too much. Of course, moving around is a real necessity in a tennis match and Andre got waxed in straight sets. He did manage to keep his wig on.
Agassi finally broke through at Wimbledon in 1992, defeating the hard serving Croat, Goran Ivanesivic in a 5 set thriller. Andre added two more slams and ended 1995 as the top ranked player in the world. Then things began to come apart. His ranking slumped after a nagging wrist injury affected his serve and ground strokes. By 1997 Agassi was in an unwanted marriage to starlet Brooke Shields and sneaking hits of meth. His ranking had dropped in two years from #1 to 141. He was in free fall. After losing in the first round of a lower tier tournament to a no name player, Agassi's coach challenged him to either quit tennis altogether or start over from scratch. Having earned plenty of money from his on court success as well as endorsement contracts, Agassi--for the first time in his life--chose tennis. He got fit, shaved his head, dropped the jewelry and loud outfits and decided to become a tennis player.
That was when the test positive for crystal meth came down from the ATP. And so Andre lied. He was wrong, dead wrong. Certainly, one could say that "coming clean" now as opposed to when he was still an active player is more than a little "convenient." Maybe so. But how many of us can look back on our lives and not think of something we got away with that we never "came clean" on? Have you ever cheated on a test? Driven drunk and somehow made it home without incident? Or simply told a lie to save your own ass? Who among us would want to be judged solely on our worst moment? Maybe he told the truth to clear his conscience, or maybe it was just to sell books. Only he knows for sure.
What I do know is this: I would prefer to be judged for who I am now as opposed to who I was in my early twenties. And if I apply that same standard to Agassi, I find that there's a lot to admire.
Agassi is one of the few players to peak in the back half of his career. Most tennis greats are running on fumes after they turn 26. Well, Agassi won 5 of his 8 grand slam titles after the age of 27. He is one of six players in the history of the sport to have won all four slams (Wimbledon, the French, Australian, and US opens). He is the only player ever to take all four slams and an Olympic gold medal in singles. Agassi wasn't the best player of his era, that honor goes to Pete Sampras. But he was easily the most unique and dynamic. His transformation from a (mostly) all style to all substance athlete was extraordinary. However, I would say that doesn't hold a candle to the kind of person he became.
After his amicable divorce from Shields, Agassi began dating German tennis great Steffi Graf. This seemingly odd couple proved to be a good match, marrying in 2001. Their relationship seemed to suit Agassi well. Long considered one of the more compassionate players behind the scenes, I think it's no accident that Agassi's greatest achievement came in the same year he was wedded to Graf. I'm referring to the creation of the K-12 charter school for at-risk children, the Andre Agassi College Preparatory Academy. The school celebrated their first graduating class in 2009. The grad rate came in at 100%, and all of the students will be attending college. This school came from the imagination and commitment of a high school drop out and former crystal meth user. Yes Fitzgerald, American lives do have second acts. Agassi has often been noted as one of the most charitable athletes on the planet. His only competition coming from fellow fringe sports star Lance Armstrong.
So that's who Andre Agassi is now. A former athlete and current philanthropist. I'm willing to bet he's most proud of the latter. Misters Federer, Nadal, Safin, along with miss Navratilova can bitch and bemoan his crystal meth confession all they want. They can gripe that the man who wrote a book called "Open" should dare to be exactly that. Maybe one day one of them will open their own charter school and cut the ribbon at the grand opening astride a "high horse."
Of course, I know that judging them against Agassi's greatest achievement is not fair to them, but neither is judging Agassi by his worst. Game, set, match.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
D.J.
Derek Jeter is the best player in baseball. Yeah, you heard that right, but I'll say it again: Derek Jeter is the best player in baseball. Now, before you think me insane, I know A-Rod, Joe Mauer, and Albert Pujols are currently active major leaguers. That being said, I'll take Jeter.
Before I get to the meat of my argument, I suppose I should say that I'm neither a Yankees lover or hater. I do admire their excellence, and while I certainly recognize the part their financial superiority plays in the maintenance of that success, it's nothing any other team wouldn't do if they could. Now, onto the protein.
I came to this conclusion last week when the Yankees won their fifth world series in the Jeter era. Of course, I know that the Yankees can buy pretty much any player they want, and that Jeter is fortunate to play in New York instead of say, Kansas City. However, those are ifs, buts, and maybes. He does play in New York. Deal with it. Besides, Jeter would have been great anywhere. Upon coming out of Central High in Kalamazoo, Michigan, a Yankees scout was asked if he thought Jeter would go pro right away or to the University of Michigan. The scout replied: "The only place he's going for sure is to the Hall of Fame." I hope the Yankees gave that guy a raise.
It's also worth noting that while the Yankees have had a ton of great players go through their organization since Jeter's rookie year in 1996, there have been only four constants on their five championship teams (1996, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2009). They are catcher Jorge Posada, pitchers Andy Pettite and Mariano Rivera, and Jeter. All those other guys---as great as they may have been--- were just passing through. Of those four "core" guys, I think it's hard to argue that any of them are more valuable than Jeter. Posada has been a terrific catcher, but he is superior to Jeter neither in the field or at the plate. Pettite hasn't even always been the Yankees best starting pitcher (see Clemens, Cone, or Sabathia). And Rivera? Well, the only argument I have against Rivera is that he doesn't play everyday. He's the greatest relief pitcher ever and it isn't even close. It's like comparing Jerry Rice to any other wide receiver. What's the point? But since Mo doesn't play everyday, I'm going with the Yankee Captain.
For many years now it's been clear that Jeter is the inarguable leader of the most dominant franchise in all of sports. For one, he's durable. In the last 14 years he's only played fewer than 148 games in a season once (119 in 2003). He is renowned for playing with injuries, but never using them as an excuse. Hell, he doesn't even acknowledge them. And who plays harder? He grinds out every at bat, runs hard to first base on routine ground balls and pop ups, and never takes a play off in the field.
While there has been serious criticism of Jeter's play at shortstop in recent years, this season he proved the naysayers wrong. Those baseball nerds who sit around and create metrics that evaluate a player's defensive performance, have stated that Jeter has been better this year than in any of his three gold glove seasons. Of course, these metrics aren't the only way to judge his performance at shortstop. How about that play against the Red Sox a few years ago (link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgPPR5SkUdE)ago when Jeter---at full speed-- chased a foul ball into the stands, face planted into the seats and came up looking like he had gone 12 rounds with Manny Pacquiao? Or maybe you remember "The Flip" against Oakland in the 2001 Playoffs (link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq_kcKHBCcA), where on a base hit to right field, Jeter ran in between home plate and first base to corral an errant cut off through and performed a backhand "flip" to Posada to nail Jeremy Giambi on a bang-bang play. He goes all out, all the time and is seemingly always in the right place at the right time.
He's also a model of consistency with the bat. His numbers may not be that sexy in the steroid era, but upon a closer look his production is pretty extraordinary. From his first full season in 1996 to now, Jeter has hit less than .300 only three times. And what did he hit in those three years? Well, .291 (1997), .297 (2002) and .292 (2004). Pretty good "off" years I'd say. He's finished in the top ten in batting average nine times, including second twice in 1999 and 2006. His lowest on base percentage was a far better than league average .352 in 2002. While he certainly isn't considered a power hitter, he has made it to double figures in home runs in every one of his full seasons with a career high of 24 in 1999. In 12 of 14 seasons he has scored 100 runs or more, and never less than 87 (2003). However, there is one statistical category where Jeter's numbers are truly eye popping. That would be his extraordinary accumulation of base hits. In 14 full seasons he has 2735 base knocks. He has breached 200 hits seven times and landed between 190-199 three other times. Of his peers, only Ichiro Suzuki hits safely with more regularity. Because Jeter doesn't hit 40 homers or knock in 120 runs, his stats have a tendency to sneak up on you. But take a look at his career numbers: 1574 runs, 2747 hits (total), 438 doubles, 224 home runs, 1068 runs batted in, 305 stolen bases, a .317 career batting average, .388 on base percentage, and a .459 slugging percentage. How many middle infielders in the history of the game are even close? And he's not done yet. Not by a damn sight.
There were some baseball analysts who argued that Jeter was beginning to show signs of decline after a sub-par (for him anyway) 2008 season. They said he had become a liability on defense and was not the same hitter anymore either. Some even went as far to say that he had been "overrated." So, how did Jeter respond? Well, aside from having his best season on defense in many a year ---if not ever---all he did was hit .334 with a .406 OBP, 18 home runs, 30 stolen bases, 107 runs, and a whopping 212 hits. It's a foregone conclusion that he will be in the top 5 in MVP voting for 2009. But did you know that it will be the seventh time in his career that he has finished in the top ten? It's confounding to me that we live in a world where middle infielders Dustin Pedroia of the Boston Red Sox, and Jimmy Rollins of the Philadelphia Phillies (fine payers both) have MVP trophies and Jeter does not. I'm still sore over Jeter coming in second to the Twins' Justin Morneau in 2006. Morneau wasn't even the best player on his team that year, Joe Mauer was.
It's not as if Jeter only performs well in the regular season either. In 138 playoff games, Jeter has hit .313 with a .383 OBP, 20 home runs, 99 runs, and 175 hits. And who can ever remember him costing his team a game in the post season whether with the bat or with the glove? All he did in the 2009 world series was hit .407 with a .429 OBP, .519 SLG, and collect 11 hits in 6 games. Ho-hum, business as usual. And maybe that's why we don't appreciate Jeter as much as we should. He makes excellence seem so...ordinary.
It's worth mentioning that he's a pretty great teammate as well. Has anyone who's ever played with him had a negative thing to say about him (and no A-Rod doesn't count)? I think I know why. Prior to the 2002 season, the Yankees were in hot pursuit of Oakland A's slugging first baseman Jason Giambi. The incumbent Yankees first baseman, Tino Martinez was coming off a down year and the Yankees were looking to upgrade the position. Several Yankees reached out to Giambi in an effort to convince him to sign a free agent pact with the Bronx Bombers. Jeter was not one of them. When asked why, Jeter replied that he had nothing against Giambi but "Tino's my friend." That's class boys and girls. Here's another anecdote: Before the 2009 world series Jeter was asked to assess his stellar career, Jeter replied without a hint of false modesty, "I've had four great seasons." I suppose now he would say he's had five.
Now I'm sure that anyone who may read this could still wonder how I could choose Jeter over A-Rod, Mauer or Pujols. First off, A-Rod's a juicer and a jerk. I have no interest in putting a cheater ahead of Jeter. As far as the jerk part goes, did you know that A-Rod has not one, not two, but three paintings in his home that depict him as a centaur? And that one of them hangs over his bed (insert stud joke here)? Besides, did anyone believe his tearful steroid confession earlier this year? Oh, please. As for Mauer, he hasn't done it for long enough yet. I stress the word "yet." He's one hell of a player. That leaves me with my thorniest argument to make. The case of Jeter over Pujols. There is no doubt that Pujols is the most dominant offensive force in the game and a good first baseman to boot. Here's my problem with Pujols, and let me preface this by saying I know this may not be fair but, I simply don't trust anyone who puts up Super Nintendo numbers during the steroid era. I'm not accusing Pujols of anything and I would be more than happy to have my suspicions disproved, but like you, I've been burnt too many times before (see Bonds, Ramirez, A-Rod, Clemens, McGwire, etc...).
There's a method I employ when I'm watching a close boxing match. When at the end of the bout, if I'm not sure who I would pick as the winner of the fight, I ask myself: "of the two combatants, who would I rather be?" Well, at the end of this debate over who's the best player in baseball, I ask you "who would you rather be than Derek Jeter?" Take your time building an argument, you'll need it.
Sumo-Pop
November 8, 2009
Full disclosure:
In 1999 My buddy Barry and I went to a Tigers-Yankees game in Detroit. We arrived there early and were standing near the visiting player's entrance when Derek Jeter came out to take the field. He ran past us and we called out "Hey Derek (as if we were on a first name basis--embarrassing), can you sign a ball?" Derek slowed his roll, u-turned and signed two balls, one for each of us. It was only his second season, but it was clear he already "got it." Yes, I still have the ball and no, I'm not telling you where I keep it.
Before I get to the meat of my argument, I suppose I should say that I'm neither a Yankees lover or hater. I do admire their excellence, and while I certainly recognize the part their financial superiority plays in the maintenance of that success, it's nothing any other team wouldn't do if they could. Now, onto the protein.
I came to this conclusion last week when the Yankees won their fifth world series in the Jeter era. Of course, I know that the Yankees can buy pretty much any player they want, and that Jeter is fortunate to play in New York instead of say, Kansas City. However, those are ifs, buts, and maybes. He does play in New York. Deal with it. Besides, Jeter would have been great anywhere. Upon coming out of Central High in Kalamazoo, Michigan, a Yankees scout was asked if he thought Jeter would go pro right away or to the University of Michigan. The scout replied: "The only place he's going for sure is to the Hall of Fame." I hope the Yankees gave that guy a raise.
It's also worth noting that while the Yankees have had a ton of great players go through their organization since Jeter's rookie year in 1996, there have been only four constants on their five championship teams (1996, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2009). They are catcher Jorge Posada, pitchers Andy Pettite and Mariano Rivera, and Jeter. All those other guys---as great as they may have been--- were just passing through. Of those four "core" guys, I think it's hard to argue that any of them are more valuable than Jeter. Posada has been a terrific catcher, but he is superior to Jeter neither in the field or at the plate. Pettite hasn't even always been the Yankees best starting pitcher (see Clemens, Cone, or Sabathia). And Rivera? Well, the only argument I have against Rivera is that he doesn't play everyday. He's the greatest relief pitcher ever and it isn't even close. It's like comparing Jerry Rice to any other wide receiver. What's the point? But since Mo doesn't play everyday, I'm going with the Yankee Captain.
For many years now it's been clear that Jeter is the inarguable leader of the most dominant franchise in all of sports. For one, he's durable. In the last 14 years he's only played fewer than 148 games in a season once (119 in 2003). He is renowned for playing with injuries, but never using them as an excuse. Hell, he doesn't even acknowledge them. And who plays harder? He grinds out every at bat, runs hard to first base on routine ground balls and pop ups, and never takes a play off in the field.
While there has been serious criticism of Jeter's play at shortstop in recent years, this season he proved the naysayers wrong. Those baseball nerds who sit around and create metrics that evaluate a player's defensive performance, have stated that Jeter has been better this year than in any of his three gold glove seasons. Of course, these metrics aren't the only way to judge his performance at shortstop. How about that play against the Red Sox a few years ago (link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgPPR5SkUdE)ago when Jeter---at full speed-- chased a foul ball into the stands, face planted into the seats and came up looking like he had gone 12 rounds with Manny Pacquiao? Or maybe you remember "The Flip" against Oakland in the 2001 Playoffs (link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq_kcKHBCcA), where on a base hit to right field, Jeter ran in between home plate and first base to corral an errant cut off through and performed a backhand "flip" to Posada to nail Jeremy Giambi on a bang-bang play. He goes all out, all the time and is seemingly always in the right place at the right time.
He's also a model of consistency with the bat. His numbers may not be that sexy in the steroid era, but upon a closer look his production is pretty extraordinary. From his first full season in 1996 to now, Jeter has hit less than .300 only three times. And what did he hit in those three years? Well, .291 (1997), .297 (2002) and .292 (2004). Pretty good "off" years I'd say. He's finished in the top ten in batting average nine times, including second twice in 1999 and 2006. His lowest on base percentage was a far better than league average .352 in 2002. While he certainly isn't considered a power hitter, he has made it to double figures in home runs in every one of his full seasons with a career high of 24 in 1999. In 12 of 14 seasons he has scored 100 runs or more, and never less than 87 (2003). However, there is one statistical category where Jeter's numbers are truly eye popping. That would be his extraordinary accumulation of base hits. In 14 full seasons he has 2735 base knocks. He has breached 200 hits seven times and landed between 190-199 three other times. Of his peers, only Ichiro Suzuki hits safely with more regularity. Because Jeter doesn't hit 40 homers or knock in 120 runs, his stats have a tendency to sneak up on you. But take a look at his career numbers: 1574 runs, 2747 hits (total), 438 doubles, 224 home runs, 1068 runs batted in, 305 stolen bases, a .317 career batting average, .388 on base percentage, and a .459 slugging percentage. How many middle infielders in the history of the game are even close? And he's not done yet. Not by a damn sight.
There were some baseball analysts who argued that Jeter was beginning to show signs of decline after a sub-par (for him anyway) 2008 season. They said he had become a liability on defense and was not the same hitter anymore either. Some even went as far to say that he had been "overrated." So, how did Jeter respond? Well, aside from having his best season on defense in many a year ---if not ever---all he did was hit .334 with a .406 OBP, 18 home runs, 30 stolen bases, 107 runs, and a whopping 212 hits. It's a foregone conclusion that he will be in the top 5 in MVP voting for 2009. But did you know that it will be the seventh time in his career that he has finished in the top ten? It's confounding to me that we live in a world where middle infielders Dustin Pedroia of the Boston Red Sox, and Jimmy Rollins of the Philadelphia Phillies (fine payers both) have MVP trophies and Jeter does not. I'm still sore over Jeter coming in second to the Twins' Justin Morneau in 2006. Morneau wasn't even the best player on his team that year, Joe Mauer was.
It's not as if Jeter only performs well in the regular season either. In 138 playoff games, Jeter has hit .313 with a .383 OBP, 20 home runs, 99 runs, and 175 hits. And who can ever remember him costing his team a game in the post season whether with the bat or with the glove? All he did in the 2009 world series was hit .407 with a .429 OBP, .519 SLG, and collect 11 hits in 6 games. Ho-hum, business as usual. And maybe that's why we don't appreciate Jeter as much as we should. He makes excellence seem so...ordinary.
It's worth mentioning that he's a pretty great teammate as well. Has anyone who's ever played with him had a negative thing to say about him (and no A-Rod doesn't count)? I think I know why. Prior to the 2002 season, the Yankees were in hot pursuit of Oakland A's slugging first baseman Jason Giambi. The incumbent Yankees first baseman, Tino Martinez was coming off a down year and the Yankees were looking to upgrade the position. Several Yankees reached out to Giambi in an effort to convince him to sign a free agent pact with the Bronx Bombers. Jeter was not one of them. When asked why, Jeter replied that he had nothing against Giambi but "Tino's my friend." That's class boys and girls. Here's another anecdote: Before the 2009 world series Jeter was asked to assess his stellar career, Jeter replied without a hint of false modesty, "I've had four great seasons." I suppose now he would say he's had five.
Now I'm sure that anyone who may read this could still wonder how I could choose Jeter over A-Rod, Mauer or Pujols. First off, A-Rod's a juicer and a jerk. I have no interest in putting a cheater ahead of Jeter. As far as the jerk part goes, did you know that A-Rod has not one, not two, but three paintings in his home that depict him as a centaur? And that one of them hangs over his bed (insert stud joke here)? Besides, did anyone believe his tearful steroid confession earlier this year? Oh, please. As for Mauer, he hasn't done it for long enough yet. I stress the word "yet." He's one hell of a player. That leaves me with my thorniest argument to make. The case of Jeter over Pujols. There is no doubt that Pujols is the most dominant offensive force in the game and a good first baseman to boot. Here's my problem with Pujols, and let me preface this by saying I know this may not be fair but, I simply don't trust anyone who puts up Super Nintendo numbers during the steroid era. I'm not accusing Pujols of anything and I would be more than happy to have my suspicions disproved, but like you, I've been burnt too many times before (see Bonds, Ramirez, A-Rod, Clemens, McGwire, etc...).
There's a method I employ when I'm watching a close boxing match. When at the end of the bout, if I'm not sure who I would pick as the winner of the fight, I ask myself: "of the two combatants, who would I rather be?" Well, at the end of this debate over who's the best player in baseball, I ask you "who would you rather be than Derek Jeter?" Take your time building an argument, you'll need it.
Sumo-Pop
November 8, 2009
Full disclosure:
In 1999 My buddy Barry and I went to a Tigers-Yankees game in Detroit. We arrived there early and were standing near the visiting player's entrance when Derek Jeter came out to take the field. He ran past us and we called out "Hey Derek (as if we were on a first name basis--embarrassing), can you sign a ball?" Derek slowed his roll, u-turned and signed two balls, one for each of us. It was only his second season, but it was clear he already "got it." Yes, I still have the ball and no, I'm not telling you where I keep it.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Mister Carter
One year ago tonight Illinois Senator Barack Obama won the presidential election over Arizona Senator John McCain. As my wife and I watched Obama's victory speech from Grant Park in Chicago we both began to cry. The tears flowed not just because we supported him with our funds and our feet, but because our country made a choice for change.
I'm not so much referring to a change in party or political philosophy (although that was huge in itself). No, I'm referring to the fact that the majority of the voting populous when faced with a decision over who should run this country, chose the guy they thought would be best and didn't care that he happened to be black.
This country looked past its long history of racial division and picked the "black guy." Not so long ago this would have been unthinkable. Consider our history. It's a past fraught with slavery, Jim Crowe laws, segregation, and lynchings. Certainly, electing Obama did not eliminate all racism and prejudice, but it was one hell of a step toward "a more perfect union."
So, I was very proud of my country that night. And while I know the success or failure of Obama's presidency is a story that is still being written, and that there is a sizable gap between inspiration and achievement, I still feel hopeful. This President who has a sick economy and two wars to navigate deserves that much from all of us.
All of that being said, on this one year anniversary of that historic election result, President Obama isn't the only one I'm thinking of. Tonight, I'm also thinking about Mister Carter. You see, Mister Carter was my elementary school principal. He was tall, thin and a little nappy headed. He was also black.
It's a distinction I didn't give much thought to back in the day. But think about this: Mister Carter was the Principal of a predominantly white grade school in the mid 1970's. The 1970's! I wonder what he must of had to go through to reach that position. What indignities must he have suffered? I'm sure there were many.
I have two particularly vivid memories of Mr. Carter. The first centered around discipline and authority. Once, when I was playing soccer at recess, the ball bounced away and landed in a neighboring residential lot by the school. When this happened at Eastside Elementary, the rule was that you were to get one of the teachers who would then fetch the ball for you. However, me being a precocious lad, I chose to get it myself. Even worse, when the teacher reminded me of the rule, I chose to get smart. Big mistake.
Shortly after, I was summoned to the office by the school secretary, Mrs. Purdy. "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee" the poet John Donne once said. As I entered the office I was shepherded into Mr. Carter's room. The first thing I saw was a wooden paddle sitting on his desk. To be fair, it looked more like an oar from a viking ship. With holes in it. Mr. Carter then suggested that I have a seat. At this point, my bladder and bowels were in deep argument over who would lead the jail break. Now, I can't tell you a single word that Mr. Carter said to me that day. But I remember the flat steely tone with which he addressed me. He didn't end up using the paddle on me--- he didn't need to. Suffice it to say, I never strayed from school grounds again. As I left his office I was feeling two emotions. One I understood very clearly. It's called fear. The second I would only come to comprehend later in life. It was respect.
My other memory of Mr. Carter had to do with the misfortune of another student. One day at recess, Kelly West climbed the ladder to the top of the slide. He then slipped, lost his balance and planted his face into the ground below. Kelly rolled over writhing and sobbing while his pale face turned red with blood. We kids simply stood there frozen in shock. Then, seemingly from nowhere, came Mr. Carter. He reached down, scooped the boy up into his arms and carried him into our school to receive medical attention. The slide was seven feet tall. On that day, Mr. Carter was ten.
I have no idea what happened to Mr. Carter after he left Eastside Elementary. I hope his quietly trailblazing path carried on well into the future. In fact, I scarcely thought of him at all until November 5th, 2008. It occurred to me on that evening that this wasn't just Barack Obama's night, but Mr. Carter's too.
Because for every Nat Turner, Harriet Tubman, Jackie Robinson, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and Barack Obama, there were hundreds, if not thousands of Mr. Carters. People of color who with quiet dignity made giant steps that lead to the great leaps by the aforementioned individuals.
So yes, on this fall evening I'm thinking of Barack Obama. But I'm thinking of Mr. Carter too. Godspeed good man, wherever you are.
I'm not so much referring to a change in party or political philosophy (although that was huge in itself). No, I'm referring to the fact that the majority of the voting populous when faced with a decision over who should run this country, chose the guy they thought would be best and didn't care that he happened to be black.
This country looked past its long history of racial division and picked the "black guy." Not so long ago this would have been unthinkable. Consider our history. It's a past fraught with slavery, Jim Crowe laws, segregation, and lynchings. Certainly, electing Obama did not eliminate all racism and prejudice, but it was one hell of a step toward "a more perfect union."
So, I was very proud of my country that night. And while I know the success or failure of Obama's presidency is a story that is still being written, and that there is a sizable gap between inspiration and achievement, I still feel hopeful. This President who has a sick economy and two wars to navigate deserves that much from all of us.
All of that being said, on this one year anniversary of that historic election result, President Obama isn't the only one I'm thinking of. Tonight, I'm also thinking about Mister Carter. You see, Mister Carter was my elementary school principal. He was tall, thin and a little nappy headed. He was also black.
It's a distinction I didn't give much thought to back in the day. But think about this: Mister Carter was the Principal of a predominantly white grade school in the mid 1970's. The 1970's! I wonder what he must of had to go through to reach that position. What indignities must he have suffered? I'm sure there were many.
I have two particularly vivid memories of Mr. Carter. The first centered around discipline and authority. Once, when I was playing soccer at recess, the ball bounced away and landed in a neighboring residential lot by the school. When this happened at Eastside Elementary, the rule was that you were to get one of the teachers who would then fetch the ball for you. However, me being a precocious lad, I chose to get it myself. Even worse, when the teacher reminded me of the rule, I chose to get smart. Big mistake.
Shortly after, I was summoned to the office by the school secretary, Mrs. Purdy. "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee" the poet John Donne once said. As I entered the office I was shepherded into Mr. Carter's room. The first thing I saw was a wooden paddle sitting on his desk. To be fair, it looked more like an oar from a viking ship. With holes in it. Mr. Carter then suggested that I have a seat. At this point, my bladder and bowels were in deep argument over who would lead the jail break. Now, I can't tell you a single word that Mr. Carter said to me that day. But I remember the flat steely tone with which he addressed me. He didn't end up using the paddle on me--- he didn't need to. Suffice it to say, I never strayed from school grounds again. As I left his office I was feeling two emotions. One I understood very clearly. It's called fear. The second I would only come to comprehend later in life. It was respect.
My other memory of Mr. Carter had to do with the misfortune of another student. One day at recess, Kelly West climbed the ladder to the top of the slide. He then slipped, lost his balance and planted his face into the ground below. Kelly rolled over writhing and sobbing while his pale face turned red with blood. We kids simply stood there frozen in shock. Then, seemingly from nowhere, came Mr. Carter. He reached down, scooped the boy up into his arms and carried him into our school to receive medical attention. The slide was seven feet tall. On that day, Mr. Carter was ten.
I have no idea what happened to Mr. Carter after he left Eastside Elementary. I hope his quietly trailblazing path carried on well into the future. In fact, I scarcely thought of him at all until November 5th, 2008. It occurred to me on that evening that this wasn't just Barack Obama's night, but Mr. Carter's too.
Because for every Nat Turner, Harriet Tubman, Jackie Robinson, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and Barack Obama, there were hundreds, if not thousands of Mr. Carters. People of color who with quiet dignity made giant steps that lead to the great leaps by the aforementioned individuals.
So yes, on this fall evening I'm thinking of Barack Obama. But I'm thinking of Mr. Carter too. Godspeed good man, wherever you are.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Catholic Boy
"There will always be a poem, I will climb on top of it and come in and out of time, cocking my head to the side slightly, as I finish shaking, melting then into its body, its soft skin is not a lie"--Jim Carroll, "Poem" from Void of Course (1998)
Jim Carroll died on September 14, 2009 and hardly anyone noticed. He had the twin misfortunes of being a fringe artist and dying on the same day as Patrick Swayze. I'm sure many people have no idea who Jim was. Jim was an author, poet, and occasional punk rocker. And he was a genius.
I first became aware of Jim in 1985 while watching a film called Tuff Turf that actors James Spader and Robert Downey Jr. have surely excised from their resumes. Turf was a run of the mill teen flick about a newly poor preppie (Spader) who lands in a rough (or Tuff) high school and falls in love with the girlfriend of a half ass bad ass who doesn't take well to him playing tonsil hockey with his lady. Yeah, it's that kind of flick. And the only reason I remember it at all is because of the cameo by Jim Carroll. Exceedingly tall, with alabaster skin, and as thin as a cadaver, Jim shows up in a club scene where he and his band play two songs. He was incredibly striking and vibrant, not to mention completely out of place in this sub-John Hughes wannabe but not even close in their wildest dreams crapfest.
I didn't reacquaint myself with Jim's work again until the release of the Leonardo Dicaprio movie The Basketball Diaries in 1994. Based loosely on Jim's autobiographical take on his high school years in New York City, Diaries didn't make much of a splash upon it's release. While Dicaprio gives a terrific performance playing Jim, the film's heroin using, homosexual hustling protagonist was not the kind of subject that was going to extend to the masses. But it did put Jim back on my radar. I searched out his cds, purchased books of his poems, and read his diary, so to speak.
What I found was a man with a great gift for a turn of a phrase. Nakedly honest, and alternately hilarious and harrowing, his collected works were a revelation to me.
The book version of The Basketball Diaries was far darker and funnier than the film that bore it's name. Jim tells the story of an NYC boy from the ages of 12-15. A star on his catholic school basketball team, Jim soon descends into heroin use, gets kicked off the team and prostitutes himself to pay for his habit. Dark stuff certainly, but clever, fast, and surprisingly triumphant (if not repentant) in the end. Jim became a bit of a New York legend after it's release. Diaries was like Scorsese's Mean Streets in a printed form. Every word seeps with the grimy knowledge of New York's underbelly far below it's blinding lights. Consider this passage:
"We got off in the park tonight with some nice scag that Joey L. copped down around Chelsea and we hit into the Bucket Of Blood, that friendly neighborhood tavern, totally twisted. Jimmy Mancole and Henry rapped to Joey at the bar. Brian and I sat in the booth on the nod. Everything was cool until three gentlemen strutted in through the side door and headed to the bar. They were all wearing trench coats and little feathered fedoras, two white guys and one black. They had a slightly-for-the-worse grey car parked in front. Their outfits meant one of two things: they were either basketball scouts or narcotic cops. Since basketball scouts seldom hung around in the Bucket, it seemed likely they were the latter. In fact it couldn't have been more obvious if all three had little red lights spinning around the tops of their fedoras."
Spare, streetwise, and more than a little wicked, Jim was a natural from the start.
Jim wasn't afraid to stretch himself either. His debut punk rock album Catholic Boy was released in 1980 to effusive praise. The title track, "City Drops Into The Night", and the classic rollicking eulogy for lost friends, "People Who Died," prove that Jim could have just as easily been another Lou Reed if he wanted. "People Who Died" is particularly stunning and truly serves as his musical calling card. Moving at a breakneck pace "Died" recounts a laundry list of lost friends in Jim's rather young life. Here's a lyrical sample:
"Herbie pushed Tony from the Boys' Club roof, Tony thought that his rage was just some goof, But Herbie sure gave Tony some bitchen proof, "Hey," Herbie said, "Tony, can you fly?"But Tony couldn't fly, Tony died."
Jim went on to make a few more fine if increasingly overlooked albums. After his brush with Dicaprio level fame he seemed to settle into his cult status and return to his first love, poetry.
By no means am I any sort of expert on poetry. In fact, I consider a great deal of it pretty tiresome. I mean hell, Jewel put out a book of poetry. Jewel, the woman who wrote "Hands" for Pete's sake. But Jim's stuff is something different. It feels lived in, with exposed bones, and even when I don't quite understand it (which is more often than I care to admit), I am transfixed by his striking use of words, his bare knuckled prose. Chelsea May from "Fear of Dreaming" is one of my favorites, and it goes a little something like this:
A pair of frozen dice come
tumble through picture windows
the sun slips out and
she is standing at the gate
with all her possibilities
I conceal so much
moving in and out of poetry
I could have simply left a note
tell you how I hate
getting up each morning and
drink coffee, feeling unsightly sick and...
What Coleridge couldn't admit, well,
Dequincey, he cashed in on it.
do you see,
Chelsea May?
it's just a feeling I have at times
I want to live until I want to die
and I don't want their cures
no matter what they say
my mind is shot into storms
and she's leaning on the gate
Several years ago Jim came to Notre Dame to perform a poetry reading on campus. I was stuck at work that night and unable to attend. For me, it's up there with not seeing Nirvana before Kurt took his own life. There will be no more second chances. Because Jim Carroll died on September 14th 2009 at his desk with his boots on, working. Moving in and out of poetry with his mind shot into storms. Goodbye Jim.
Sumo-Pop
November 4, 2009
Here is the link to the music video of Jim's classic "People Who Died"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bOjc70f4p8
Jim Carroll died on September 14, 2009 and hardly anyone noticed. He had the twin misfortunes of being a fringe artist and dying on the same day as Patrick Swayze. I'm sure many people have no idea who Jim was. Jim was an author, poet, and occasional punk rocker. And he was a genius.
I first became aware of Jim in 1985 while watching a film called Tuff Turf that actors James Spader and Robert Downey Jr. have surely excised from their resumes. Turf was a run of the mill teen flick about a newly poor preppie (Spader) who lands in a rough (or Tuff) high school and falls in love with the girlfriend of a half ass bad ass who doesn't take well to him playing tonsil hockey with his lady. Yeah, it's that kind of flick. And the only reason I remember it at all is because of the cameo by Jim Carroll. Exceedingly tall, with alabaster skin, and as thin as a cadaver, Jim shows up in a club scene where he and his band play two songs. He was incredibly striking and vibrant, not to mention completely out of place in this sub-John Hughes wannabe but not even close in their wildest dreams crapfest.
I didn't reacquaint myself with Jim's work again until the release of the Leonardo Dicaprio movie The Basketball Diaries in 1994. Based loosely on Jim's autobiographical take on his high school years in New York City, Diaries didn't make much of a splash upon it's release. While Dicaprio gives a terrific performance playing Jim, the film's heroin using, homosexual hustling protagonist was not the kind of subject that was going to extend to the masses. But it did put Jim back on my radar. I searched out his cds, purchased books of his poems, and read his diary, so to speak.
What I found was a man with a great gift for a turn of a phrase. Nakedly honest, and alternately hilarious and harrowing, his collected works were a revelation to me.
The book version of The Basketball Diaries was far darker and funnier than the film that bore it's name. Jim tells the story of an NYC boy from the ages of 12-15. A star on his catholic school basketball team, Jim soon descends into heroin use, gets kicked off the team and prostitutes himself to pay for his habit. Dark stuff certainly, but clever, fast, and surprisingly triumphant (if not repentant) in the end. Jim became a bit of a New York legend after it's release. Diaries was like Scorsese's Mean Streets in a printed form. Every word seeps with the grimy knowledge of New York's underbelly far below it's blinding lights. Consider this passage:
"We got off in the park tonight with some nice scag that Joey L. copped down around Chelsea and we hit into the Bucket Of Blood, that friendly neighborhood tavern, totally twisted. Jimmy Mancole and Henry rapped to Joey at the bar. Brian and I sat in the booth on the nod. Everything was cool until three gentlemen strutted in through the side door and headed to the bar. They were all wearing trench coats and little feathered fedoras, two white guys and one black. They had a slightly-for-the-worse grey car parked in front. Their outfits meant one of two things: they were either basketball scouts or narcotic cops. Since basketball scouts seldom hung around in the Bucket, it seemed likely they were the latter. In fact it couldn't have been more obvious if all three had little red lights spinning around the tops of their fedoras."
Spare, streetwise, and more than a little wicked, Jim was a natural from the start.
Jim wasn't afraid to stretch himself either. His debut punk rock album Catholic Boy was released in 1980 to effusive praise. The title track, "City Drops Into The Night", and the classic rollicking eulogy for lost friends, "People Who Died," prove that Jim could have just as easily been another Lou Reed if he wanted. "People Who Died" is particularly stunning and truly serves as his musical calling card. Moving at a breakneck pace "Died" recounts a laundry list of lost friends in Jim's rather young life. Here's a lyrical sample:
"Herbie pushed Tony from the Boys' Club roof, Tony thought that his rage was just some goof, But Herbie sure gave Tony some bitchen proof, "Hey," Herbie said, "Tony, can you fly?"But Tony couldn't fly, Tony died."
Jim went on to make a few more fine if increasingly overlooked albums. After his brush with Dicaprio level fame he seemed to settle into his cult status and return to his first love, poetry.
By no means am I any sort of expert on poetry. In fact, I consider a great deal of it pretty tiresome. I mean hell, Jewel put out a book of poetry. Jewel, the woman who wrote "Hands" for Pete's sake. But Jim's stuff is something different. It feels lived in, with exposed bones, and even when I don't quite understand it (which is more often than I care to admit), I am transfixed by his striking use of words, his bare knuckled prose. Chelsea May from "Fear of Dreaming" is one of my favorites, and it goes a little something like this:
A pair of frozen dice come
tumble through picture windows
the sun slips out and
she is standing at the gate
with all her possibilities
I conceal so much
moving in and out of poetry
I could have simply left a note
tell you how I hate
getting up each morning and
drink coffee, feeling unsightly sick and...
What Coleridge couldn't admit, well,
Dequincey, he cashed in on it.
do you see,
Chelsea May?
it's just a feeling I have at times
I want to live until I want to die
and I don't want their cures
no matter what they say
my mind is shot into storms
and she's leaning on the gate
Several years ago Jim came to Notre Dame to perform a poetry reading on campus. I was stuck at work that night and unable to attend. For me, it's up there with not seeing Nirvana before Kurt took his own life. There will be no more second chances. Because Jim Carroll died on September 14th 2009 at his desk with his boots on, working. Moving in and out of poetry with his mind shot into storms. Goodbye Jim.
Sumo-Pop
November 4, 2009
Here is the link to the music video of Jim's classic "People Who Died"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bOjc70f4p8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)