Really, This?

 

In defiance of popular demand, I thought it was time to weigh in on Brett Kavanaugh.

Yes, I know, one of the last things Mark Z’s Emporium of Data Breaches* needs is another take on the testimonial argle-bargle in D.C. that dominated the news this past week. On the other hand, it’s well known that I have a *$#*$&! opinion on everything, so my need to sound off on these events is an urge biologic.

However, this will not be a link to a Washington Post think piece, a shared meme or one of those colored boxes with a punchy comment inside. I rarely link, I never meme and I don’t know how to create one of those parallelograms of pith, nor am I inclined to learn.

That leaves me with my neolithic preference for the black and white, sentences and paragraphs format others have abandoned. I’m OK with that.

I’m also not going to delve into the relative credibility of each of the main combatants’ versions of events. As far as I can tell, the perceptions there fall pretty neatly on existing lines. If you’re on my side of the political divide and you loathe Kavanaugh’s legal CV, you think Dr. Ford was doling out the truth bombs. In contrast, if BK’s brand of jurisprudence is right up your alley, then his was the accurate recitation of events. There’s nothing sensible about such ironclad pairings, though its obviousness and predictability are hard to deny.

Nevertheless, regardless which side you fall on, something to me is undeniably true: Judge Kavanaugh was undeniably untruthful. Not on the big What Happened? question, but on the little ones along the way.

No one being remotely honest (or coherent) believes Kavanaugh’s claims about those yearbook references. Ralphing and boofing were not nods to genetic troubles with his gastrointestinal system. No one should buy the idea that random baseball and college basketball games that he stopped watching were worthy of chronicling for posterity. And the Renate Alumni, of which he was a siccy Alumnius, were not proudly referring to chaste dates they attended with this unfortunate woman. We know this because these explanations bear absolutely no connection to boys being boys, a case of true possessive petard hoisting if there ever was one.

Now, I absolutely understand his desire to fabricate fictions in place of the facts here. Acknowledging a tendency he drank to blackout stage and that he chummed around (and shared ideals) with young men with such little respect for their female peers (sadly, a trait that extended well beyond the entitled douchebaggery running rampant at Georgetown Prep) does make him look like someone more capable of sexual assault. And giving a detailed description of the ins and outs of a Devil’s Triangle while your wife and daughters are looking on is, I hope, no one’s idea of a fun time (except maybe to Trump).

Nevertheless, outright lying to the Senate is 100 percent proof of a willingness to lie to the Senate, which should be a serious cause for concern if you were a member of that Club of One Hundred tasked with granting him his desired promotion. Not necessarily to partisan dungheaps such as Sens. Grassley and McConnell, but at least to the Sasses and Flakes, Collinses and Murkowskis of that once-august body.

I hope enough of these still-salvageable sens can recognize that a justice who so easily lies to them in this very public job interview really doesn’t warrant one of the nine seats at the head table, no matter how much you like his expected take on Roe v. Wade (or how Big Chief Tangerine loves his take on an imperial presidency).

One other thing. Yes, I’m aware of the argument that a derailed nomination can have a chilling effect on public service, and the message being sent when a single unproven allegation can damage a man’s reputation and hamper his career. The fear is not without merit.

However, I offer two things in response: First, none of this appears to have been a picnic for Dr. Ford, so I’m not sure there’s tremendous personal incentive for an individual to whole-cloth allegations.** And second, and far more important, one other message that could be sent with a No vote is one that tells young men that sexual assault, harassment or degradation is not acceptable at any age, and there will be consequences for such acts. Maybe not today, but a reckoning can still await.

And as messages go, that one’s a hell of a lot more vital.

*This originated over at Facebook, but I really liked that nickname for the site so I dragged it over here.

**And, worth noting, that when Neil Gorsuch was nominated to a seat Democrats rightfully believed should have been Merrick Garland’s just last year, there wasn’t a whisper of sexual improprieties along the way.

75 Percent Less Fat: No. 37

Country, even in its alt-variety, is hardly my favorite genre. For instance, I find Wilco, the most prominent name in the field, extraordinarily boring. It’s not a widespread opinion, but what can you do.

 

But there is one exception to my lack of enthusiasm for Americana: the Old 97’s. The Rhett Miller-led quartet from Dallas has been turning out quality alt-country tunes for a half-century, highlighted by 1999’s Fight Songs.

 

The album bounces between bouncy jangle rock like tunes vaguely reminiscent of early REM and hard-driving guitar-driven songs, all carried by Miller’s delightfully clever wordplay

 

Highlights include: the crunchy opener Jagged You Tube; Crash on the Barrelhead, a song that may or may not have been about rival not the performer who isn’t Brian Adams You Tube; Murder (Or a Heart Attack), a song about a cat, You Tube; Let the Idiot Speak You Tube; a song about the songwriter.

 

Important Information:

Name: Fight Songs

Released: 1999

Record Company: Eletrka

Running Time: 45:19.

Track Listing:

  1. Jagged
  2. Lonely Holiday
  3. Oppenheimer
  4. Indefinitely
  5. What We Talk About
  6. Crash on the Barrelhead
  7. Murder (Or a Heart Attack)
  8. Alone So Far
  9. Busted Afternoon
  10. Nineteen
  11. Let the Idiot Speak
  12. Valentine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TBtB: Los Angeles Dodgers

Another older gem. Even before I made my maiden visit two weeks ago, it was a ballpark I could identify immediately the moment the game was turned on, even absent any Dodger blue or the guy in the Ecuadorian* straw hat who used to stand behind home plate with the JUGS Gun.

The layout, once more commonplace, now looks singular given the construction similarities inherent in the new wave of parks. And the mountains beyond have not been blocked out by a monstrous concession to football, such as what happened a few hundred miles to the north. But the teevee doesn’t truly do the stadium’s unique in-the-hills locale justice. There really is nothing else like it, as least that I’ve seen.

As for the name? Ah screw it. The optimal choice is already familiar. The only way Chavez Ravine could be a better name for Dodgers Stadium is if Vin Scully’s middle name was Chavez. Or Ravine.

But, we’ve got to go through the motions…

*Sorry, Mariano, Rod and Maverick, it’s origins are not Panamanian.

Ballpark History

Built:  1962

Capacity:  56,000

Name:  Dodger Stadium 1962-present.

Other ballparks used by club in its current city:  Memorial Coliseum (1957-61).

Distinctive Features:  Until two years ago, the home to the best voice in baseball history; low walls in right and left fields; hills and mountains on all sides of the ballpark; dining options centered around various ways to prepare the Dodger Dog.

Ballpark Highlights:

For the second time in the series, Sandy Koufax outpointed fellow southpaw Whitey Ford to cement a four-game World Series sweep of the Yanks, the only time the Dodgers clinched a Fall Classic in any of their home parks.

In September 1965, Koufax made his fourth no-hitter his best one, retiring all 27 Cubs hitters to record the sport’s retroactively assigned sixth perfect game.

In 1976, Cubs outfielder Rick Monday rescued an American flag from a couple of hippie protesters trying to light it on fire in the Dodger outfield. You can read about it from time to time today on social media.

1985, Lane Myer completed his tumultuous courtship of the lovely French foreign exchange student Monique Junet with a home-plate embrace.

In 1988, Kirk Gibson hobbled up to the plate and hit baseball’s premier Hollywood-certified home run, taking the game’s premier closer, Dennis Eckersley, deep in Game 1 of the World Series. The homer propelled the Dodgers to a 4-1 Fall Classic waltz over the heavily favored A’s.

In 2009, Ichiro’s two-run single with two outs in the top of the 10th propelled Japan to its second straight World Baseball Classic title with a 5-3 victory over Korea.

In 2014, the LA Kings and Anaheim Ducks played a January hockey game as part of the NHL Stadium Series. It wasn’t the first time Dodger Stadium dabbled in winter sports, as the 1963 photo below demonstrates.

 

dodgerstadiumskijump

TBtB: Toronto Blue Jays

We leave the states to visit our friends to the north. Canada’s team began play in the futuristic SkyDome in 1989, though it got its current Rogers Centre name, complete with Canadian spelling, in 2005.

For the record, it was just SkyDome. I’m not sure why that bugs people. We don’t say the Wrigley Field or the Willets Point. But call a park a dome, and everybody, including Matt Johnson, has to add the The.

While a precursor to the throwback stadium craze launched by Camden, it did kick off some of the trends in new ballpark construction, such as amenities beyond concessions, restrooms and luxury boxes. The most notable new concept was the hotel with windows overlooking the stadium, a feature I’m sure the late Dick Williams must have appreciated.

Rogers Centre is one of the two remaining ballparks covered with turf, along with Suncoast Dome. The Jays have made overtures of replacing it with grass, though earlier this decade they did the next closest thing by installing a slower turf that allowed Kevin Pillar to kick up black pellets every time he made a diving catch, which is quite often.

Ballpark History

Built: 1989

Capacity: 49,282

Name:  Rogers Centre (2005-present). Before that, SkyDome (1989-2005).

Other ballparks used by club in its current city: Exhibition Stadium, 1977-1989.

Distinctive Features:  The sport’s first fully working retractable roof; 70 rooms of Renaissance Toronto Hotel overlooking field; millions in artwork above entrances; view of the CN Tower when the roof is lifted.

Ballpark Highlights:
In the ballpark’s maiden season, Jose Canseco hit a homer into the previously unreached top deck during Game 4 of the ALCS, helping the A’s roll to their second straight AL pennant.

In 1993, Joe Carter lived out the dream of every child who ever picked up a bat, turning a ninth-inning deficit into a World Series victory with a three-run homer off Mitch Williams. The blast capped one of the wackiest Fall Classics ever, made the Blue Jays the first team to repeat as champs since the Bronx Zoo Yanks of ‘77-78 and gave us our last taste of autumn baseball until 1995.

On July 1, 1997, Pedro Martinez outdueled Pat Hentgen in a 2-1 Montreal Expos victory, the first game in Major League history featuring two Canadian clubs.

On Opening Day 2003, Blue Jays catcher’s Ken Huckaby’s awkward catch and tag at third resulted in a broken Jeter, to the consternation of starlets and sportswriters everywhere. Four years later at that same base, Jeter’s teammate Alex Rodriguez got some measure of revenge on the hosts, distracting and infuriating the Jays’ Howie Clark on a pop-up by yelling, “I got it.”

In the deciding game of the 2015 ALDS, the Rangers and Blue Jays played one of the strangest postseason contests of the Wild Card era. The Rangers took a 3-2 lead in the top of the seventh when Rougned Odor alertly scampered home on a toss from catcher Russel Martin that hit Shin-Soo Choo’s bat and rolled in between the mound and third, unleashing havoc in Toronto. The Jays responded with four runs in the bottom of the frame, spurred by three consecutive Ranger errors and capped by Jose Bautista’s mammoth homer to left-center, which was followed by a memorable bat chuck to punctuate the blow.

TBtB: Cincinnati Reds

The home of the Cincinnati Reds is perhaps the most overly ambitiously named park of the new entries. It’s no more the Great American Ball Park than the young adult book collecting digital dust on my hard drive is the Great American Novel.

I’ve been there a few times. It’s nice enough, and the steamshippish structure in centerfield is a sensible fit given the Ohio River and its Tall Stacks sit just beyond right field. But it’s simply not going to top many favorite lists. It’s an upgrade on Riverfront, and the Reds Museum is nice, but the overall effect is just not that special. On the other hand, it separates ball and park, calling to mind the rarely seen Primate, Lance (Christopher) Linden.

It’s too bad. Cincy remains a great baseball town, and it treats Opening Day with the reverence that most important of days deserves. It’s damn near a holiday in the Queen City (non-Charlotte division).

Chairman’s Ruling: Following the Pete Rose permanent ban is strongly encouraged, but will not be mandated. We don’t think there will be any serious references to Charlie Hustle from our team of nominators unless Bear makes one of his infrequent forays in here.

Ballpark History

Built:  2003

Capacity: 42,319

Name:  Great American Ball Park.

Other ballparks used by club in its current city:  Got a minute: Bank Street Grounds, 1882-83; League Park 1 1884-1893; League Park II 1894-1901; Palace of the Fans, 1902-1911; Crosley Field, 1912-1970; Riverfront Stadium, 1970-2002.

Distinctive Features: A gap in the stands between home and third, allowing views in and out of the park from downtown; centerfield smokestacks; murals and sculptures of Reds’ history, including Reds Legends of Crosley Field; Reds Hall of Fame and Museum; the possibility of hitting the ball into another state (like the airport, the river is in Kentucky).
Ballpark Highlights:
Virtually every home game for the better part of six years, Marty Brennaman bitched about Adam Dunn.

Spurred by antagonistic comments and unwelcome shinguard taps from Brandon Phillips and the general hardassery of Yadi Molina, the Reds and Cards emptied the benches before the first pitch of their NL Central showdown in 2010. Fortunately, the cooler heads of Tony LaRussa and Dusty Baker were there to keep things from getting out of hand.

Later that year, in their only home playoff game, the Reds were blanked 3-0 by the Phillies’ Cole Hamels. Hell, at least they got a few hits.

On June 13, 2012, Joey Votto showed us what humans are capable of (though we also wouldn’t mind a few swings sprinkled in there), if they truly put their mind to it.

On June 6, 2017, waiver wire pickup Scooter Gennett became the 18th player to homer four times in a single game.

Last night, Homer Bailey tried to pitch without the ball. Given his recent success when he has a ball in hand, it was probably worth considering.

75 Percent Less Fat: No. 38

When music fans list their favorite years for albums, 2007 does not come off very often. And when people my age list their favorite years for albums, it comes up even less frequently.

Nonetheless, that year marked one of the high points in my musical-listening lifetime. The easy explanation is that it was the year after woxy’s second rebirth, and I was not only tuned into the station every day, but regularly engaging with other music-loving weirdos on the site’s message board.

Still, many of the albums from that year remain in medium rotation in my CD collection (and I’ve never been a high-rotation kind of music consumer: Klaxons’ Myths of the New Future, The National’s Boxer, Cloud Cult’s Meaning of 8, Spoon’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Blonde Redhead’s 23, Editors’ An End Has a Start and Spooky Action from the spectacularly unappreciated Celebrity Pilots.

Two of the year’s entries make my list, including No. 38, Matt Pond’s seventh album, Last Light. While not often usually seen in the same class as his two previous LPs, Emblems and Several Arrows Later, I preferred the nice blend of uptempo rockers and Pond’s trademark personal soloesque acoustic numbers. There’s an uncurrent of unease running through the tracks, from the energetic title track that kicks off the disc through the slower closer, It’s Not So Bad At All.

Highlights include the charging 1-2 punch to kick off the disc, the title track and People Have a Way; the sad Basement Parties; and the desperate Giving it All Away.

Important Information:

Name: Last Light

Released: 2007

Record Company: Altitude

Running Time: 45:19.

 

  1. Last Light
  2. People Have a Way
  3. Locate the Pieces
  4. Wild Girl
  5. Honestly
  6. Taught to Look Away
  7. Sunlight
  8. Basement Parties
  9. Until the East Coast Ends
  10. Foreign Bedrooms
  11. The Crush
  12. Giving it All Away
  13. It’s Not So Bad At All

My New Favorite A.J.*

Until Wednesday evening, I never really thought much about Adam Jones. My knowledge of him was pretty much limited to a) he was dealt to Baltimore during Seattle’s decades of horrific management, b) my youngest son picked up one a faux No. 9 jersey when we were taking my oldest son to college a few years back and c) he was a centerfielder with a nice stick whose defense should have moved him to a corner a long time ago.

That was last month. Today, Adam Jones is one of my favorite players in the sport. All because he followed the less-traveled path originally championed by former First Lady Nancy Reagan. He said “No.”

Tuesday was the major league trade deadline, when contenders try to shore up weaknesses on the field or on the mound for the stretch drive. They do this by dealing with the league’s dregs, who hope to land some low-priced prospects or a lottery ticket A-baller or some simple salary relief for the last two months of the campaign.

Jones’s club, the Orioles, had already entered fire sale mode before the deadline struck, having dealt All-Star infielder Manny Machado to the Dodgers, Jonathan Schoop to the Brewers and Don’t Break Glass In Case of Tie reliever Zach Britton to the Yankees. The dreadful O’s were also shopping Jones to teams looking for a fourth outfielder or bench bat.

But Jones has something that none of those other Orioles possessed – the right to refuse a trade. By virtue of his 10 years in the big leagues and five with his current club, Jones can nix any trade involving him. The Orioles can cut him, but they can’t simply deal him to the A’s for a bullpen arm, at least not without his say so.

And they didn’t get it. Not to anyone. Jones was going to play these last two months in the same city, same ballpark, where he’s plied his trade for the past 11 seasons. God Bless him.

“When players walked out years ago and walked the picket lines and did all that stuff, they did all that for reasons like right now. I earned this and it’s my decision. I don’t have to explain it to nobody. It’s my decision,” Jones told the media following Tuesday’s game.

Virtually every year, players such as Jones are not just asked to waive their no-trade provisions so they can be sent to a contender down the stretch, but pressured to do so by the teams, the local media and the fans. “Why wouldn’t you want to play in a pennant race?” is the usual refrain. And, most players go along, accepting a deal without comment. Fred McGriff did this years ago when he was reluctant to leave his hometown Rays to join the Cubs’ chase for a pennant. A decade later, Ryan Dempster was roasted by Cubs fans when he changed his mind about a deal to Atlanta (he eventually signed off on a deal to Texas).

This is wrong, on many levels.

Players understand that getting swapped is part of the package when you play in MLB. It’s one of the trade offs for being exceedingly well compensated. But the opportunity to refuse a trade, as Jones said, was a hard-won right. It was the impetus of the Curt Flood case that ultimately launched free agency. The Cardinal outfielder wasn’t looking to bolt St. Louis – he didn’t want to go to Philly, with its questionable racial history.

Moreover, the only life that’s truly affected by a swap is the players involved. They’re the ones being relocate to a new town, for a short period of time, on a moment’s notice. If they have a contractual right to reject such a forced move, why the hell should they be pressured by the team that employs them or the fans that root for them? The fans and media have virtually no real stake in the outcome, and the teams much less real share.

Finally, you’ve got this unanswered question: if my boss tells me he no longer wants my services, why should I make it easy on him if that’s not what I wish. Why should I do anything to help what will, upon agreement, become my former team?

And Jones is right about another thing. He owes no one an explanation for his decision. Rather, Jones and big leaguers like him owe their teams one thing – their best effort every night. Jones has delivered that to the Orioles franchise for more than 10 seasons. All he wants is two more months to keep doing that. Hats off to him for resisting the pressure to give that up.

 

*My previous favorite A.J. was, of course, White Sox Super Pest A.J. Pierzynski. Baseball is much better with villains, and no one in my baseball lifetime played that role with more zeal than Pierzynski.