I avoided the Super Bowl at the speed of light last Sunday night, opting instead for a re-watch of The Good Shepherd (2006)—a great film, despite Matt Damon’s starring role (he’s almost in the Ben Stiller/Stallone category for me)—with my son Nicky. At one point, when Damon’s character Edward Wilson is, once again, a complete shit to his shotgun-wife Margaret (Angelina Jolie, terrific performance, as was John Turturro’s)‚ Nick asked, “Isn’t the Super Bowl happening today?” I replied in the affirmative, and realized I hadn’t looked at my phone to check the score—I dislike Philadelphia teams—and was surprised to see the Eagles made mincemeat out of the Chiefs. Told my son, he shrugged, said “Who gives a fuck,” and we resumed our Sunday Night Movie At the Smiths.
I’ve never understood the “unofficial national holiday” aura of the Super Bowl—is Arbor Day chopped liver?—which is likely a minority view. But I’m glad it’s over so the content of what’s left of the daily newspapers’ sports pages will shift to mostly baseball, which, as I’ve noted too many times to count, represents the rhythm of April-October, when there’s no snow and on lucky nights stepping outside between innings will be highlighted by a swarm of lightning bugs. Last week on Twitter, my online friend John Stamos—he posts delightful words and pictures about gardens, flowers and dogs—had an off-hand baseball remembrance from his youth: “Harmon Killebrew signed my mitt, and Ernie Banks lived a couple of blocks from our house. I attended Warren Elementary School on Jeffrey Ave. with Mr. Cub's son, Joey—he was a year or two ahead of me. Bases loaded, so to speak.”
I can’t top that—no Yankees or Mets sons/daughters attended my schools in Huntington, New York—but Hall-of-Famer Orioles pitcher Jim Palmer (at 79, still making acute observations during O’s MASN broadcasts), attended several City Paper Christmas or “Best of Baltimore” parties in the 1980s and he was a charming fellow. Also, one time at Fenway Park, Nicky, dressed in a Sox uniform by the hometown dugout, caught Pedro Martinez’s attention and the superstar (at that time, perhaps the best pitcher since Sandy Koufax) broke out in a big smile and gave him a chaw of Bazooka bubble gum.
Right now, I’m glad Alex Bregman signed with Boston for three years, and don't get why Nick Pivetta turned down the team's $21 million qualifying offer. One question this off-season, as the Dodgers (who mercifully defeated the Yankees in the World Series last year, for which I remain grateful) stocked up on more stars—and still, incredibly, have a top-rated farm system—and now there’s a lot of socialist-in-drag talk of imposing an MLB salary cap. Nuts to that, Horace, let the market remain unencumbered! If any change in the $$$ structure is needed, it’s a payroll minimum, so the greedy fuck-the-fans owners can’t let their team tank and still turn a profit.
I’m looking forward to sitting at Camden Yards relatively soon, maybe in May when it’s not freezing, and gabbing with the almost-always friendly spectators in the same section. The accompanying picture is from a time when the O’s sucked, and shows Nicky and our late friend Michael Yockel, who often attended games with my family. Take a look at the clues to figure out the year:
Alice Munro (now posthumously cancelled) won the Nobel Literature prize; Mariano Rivera, top closer in MLB history, retires; cyclist Lance Armstrong admits to doping; Bret Easton Ellis starts his podcast; Mike Napoli runs around half-naked one October night in Boston; Adam Scott is first Australian to win the Masters Tournament; Thomas Pynchon’s Bleeding Edge, Rachel Kushner’s The Flamethrowers and Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch are published; Reader’s Digest again files for bankruptcy; Kanye West releases his minimalist masterpiece Yeezus; the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who is celebrated in the UK; Illinois bans the sale of shark fins; North West is born and Richard Ben Cramer dies; James Spader-vehicle The Blacklist debuts on NBC; and Monsters University is released.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023
