I am planning a major re-design of this site this month to be ready by November 1, 2013. My hope is to put out much more writing in several forms, including sports writing, book movie, music and television writing, wine and liquor reviews, poems (Poem-of-the-Day RETURNS!), stories, scripts and whatever other weird stuff comes to my mind.
I am also planning more Re-Animated Podcasts (including a special 25th Anniversary Nightmare Before Christmas episode) and the introduction of a new podcast series to debut in October. I will also begin to introduce some video material sometime during the next year.
I am extremely grateful to everyone who has stopped by my little corner of the internet and in incredible debt to all of my followers. I hope you will join me for more wild adventures in hypertext.
After an improbable run to the Eastern Conference finals, the Boston Celtics enter the offseason with a future so bright fans might need to borrow a pair of Jaylen Brown’s shades. The team is young and talented and getting back two All-Star caliber players who were missing from the team that came within one game and approximately a thousand Terry Rozier missed threes away from ending Lebron James’s seven-year dominance of the East. Difficult decisions face the team this off-season, however, as an upcoming salary-cap crunch looms and threatens to push one of the darlings of this incredible 2017-2018 season out the door.
One player that could be gone by September is restricted-free-agent and human 5-hour-energy-shot Marcus Smart, a player I love and who probably symbolizes the ’17-’18 Celtics wonderful, flawed, cringe-inducing, joy-inspiring team better than anyone else. As a restricted free agent, Smart can sign with the highest bidder, but the Celtics will have the oppertunity match the offer sheet. Smart is looking for a payday that might not be realistic in a icy free agent market this summer, but he would probably be wise to look to another gritty icon of the Boston sports world and ink a deal that will keep him in Boston long-term at a discounted rate instead of going elsewhere. Marcus Smart needs the Pedroia Principle, (or how I learned to stop worrying and be Rich-As-F#*K)
For anyone who does not follow MLB free agency signings closely, I will lay out the Pedroia Principle, a creation of my own making, in its simplest terms-
Let’s start with the essential prior in all sports negotiations: Since teams feel no loyalty at all to players ever in ay situation (see Thomas, Isaiah) athletes should look to maximize their earnings and get paid when they can.
The Pedroia Principle states a unique exception to this universal truth: While a player should maximize their earnings, a change in team made to achieve that max salary is a risk- both to their image and to their career- and that risk should be heavily weighted against the difference in money between the current team and the highest bidder. If the end result is being “Rich-As-F#*K” either way, just stay where you are.
The Pedroia Principle obviously takes its name from Red Sox second baseman and Professor of Gritology, Dustin Pedroia, who signed an eight-year, $110M deal in 2014 prior to hitting free agency. The deal was largely viewed as an extreme hometown discount and was certainly well-below market value for the four-time All-Star and Gold Glove-winner. At the time, Pedroia was regarded as the second-best potential option at the cornerstone behind then-Yankee Robinson Cano as his free agency drew near and Cano eventually signed with the Mariners for ten-years, $240M. Lazer show definitely didn’t leave all of $130M on the table but he didn’t get all of his money either. He laughed off the “discount” label, pointing out that he was not exactly a poor man with his trademark eloquence.
Whatever money Pedey left on the table wasn’t just lost, however. That cash went to cementing his legacy as an icon. It further nourished the image of the throw-back guy who eats, breathes and sleeps baseball and of the hard-nosed scrapper who puts his team first. It made him unassailable. As injuries tear away at his durability and performance- he played just 105 games last season and missed the playoff and just return to the lineup this season in late May-he has not become the pariah so many overpaid imports become after leaving the towns that embraced them on their way up. Maybe Pedroia had the unique foresight to know that the end would go down easier if it happened in the same town that saw him riding the duck-boats, or maybe he felt some loyalty to the town and the team that didn’t give up on him, but the reasons are less important than the results here. It is not hard to imagine a Pablo Sandoval or Carl Crawford late-career arch for Pedroia with the Mets or the Angels or some other team whose fan base was forced to go from hating the guy to rooting for him against their will.
More than any other athlete, Marcus Smart needs to embrace the Pedroia Principle. Celtics fans have embraced him despite his many glaring flaws. Will another team’s fan base laugh off his bricking ridiculous pull-up threes late in the fourth quarter with fifteen seconds left on the shot clock the way Celtics fans do? Probably not. On a rookie deal, it is easy to see those “winning plays” that are never actual points on the board, but those don’t easily sell you to a new fan base when you get paid $18M and never score double digits, never dunk over other teams’ stars and never make the transition lay-up. Smarf brings so much more to the game then infurating short-comings but
Marcus Smart is our guy. He is Smarf. He can’t buy this kind of love in another town regardless of how much he gets in free agency, but he can get it in Boston by staying and taking less. I don’t have a clue how to effectively monetize the love a fan base has for a player, but that value is greater than zero and players too often overlook that fact. I am not arguing that players should not look to get theirs or not fight for protection against the shitty treatment teams write off with the lines, “its a business,” (cough-IT-cough),* but signing for every last dollar has ruined players psyches and forced heel-turns on them so often that I am astonished that more players haven’t embraced the Pedroia Principle. I like Marcus Smart and I don’t like the future for Marcus Smart if he leaves the Garden as a free agent, so I hope he becomes one of the few who embrace it.
Hey, he’ll still be rich as “Rich-As-F#*K,” Right?
* Dustin Pedroia was given a no-trade clause in his deal, a practice much more common in baseball than in basketball
Tonight the Boston Celtics continue their playoff run against the Philadelphia 76ers, playing the role of underdogs despite home court advantage and the superior regular season record. They are underdogs because their best player, point guard Kyrie Irving, will not play this spring following knee surgery. Their game-one win, like the rest of their improbable run to the second seed in the East, surprised just about everyone. Since five minutes into the season, when their star free-agent acquisition, Gordon Heyward, fell to a horrific leg injury, this Celtics team has been recalibrating people’s expectations almost night-to-night.
The plot points for the Celtics season have the feel of a sappy sports film. Their big star addition goes down in the opening, throwing a 19-year-old Jayson Tatum into the NBA fray. He steps up and proves he can hang throughout a 16-game winning streak in Act One, but the long grind of the season chips away at this plucky band of youngsters and at the close of Act Two, their other star, Irving goes down, leaving only the kids and “Average Al”- the much-maligned max-contract star to face down a seven-foot tall Greek Freak and then the ascendant 76ers before the climatic (and heroic-tragic) battle with the Big-Bad- The King, Lebron.
But though the broad-stroke outline of the 2017-2018 Celtics season reads like a Sean Astin-in-an-indie-hoops-film, from a fans perspective, it has felt like something else entirely. Like something closer to The Big Lebowski or Friday. A season drenched in psychedelia and funk. The 2016-2017 Celtics season owns the claim to the dramatic archs, with the “King in the Fourth” run for Isaiah Thomas leading to heartbreak and betrayal. 2018 is the Season of the Weird, both for the Celtics and for the sporting world in general. The strange synergy between the raw, young talent in Boston’s TD Garden and the bizarre phenomenon of #weirdcelticstwitter has been one of the most fun experiences of my sports-watching life and, I believe, a foreshadowing of the bold, insane, new world of closer fan-player relations.
It is hard to define exactly what Weird Celtics Twitter is. It’s like porn, I suppose. You know it when you see it (and also, you spend way too much time staring at it after your wife and kids are asleep- A-YO! amirite!). It is definitely certain specific things though. It’s Tito-Three Sticks, Third of his Name. It’s Combat Muscles. It’s Mad Brad and Dabusele, the third eye and Terrygarcia. It is Smarf* and, of course, is Janos. Weird Celtics Twitter is not unlike many other things I have found myself in close proximity to throughout my life. It’s a weird, nerdy niche group that is full of inside jokes and obscure references that only matter to “us,” whoever the “us” might be. I can’t claim to be part of it, but following the antics of WCT has been one of my favorite things in 2018.
*I will go to my grave believing there is a connection between Smarf and the 2013 Over the Monster nickname for Shane Victorino, Shanf. To. My. Grave.
But the thing that has made the Celtics so fun this season and made Weird Celtics Twitter so fun, is that those two worlds, which should be so, so, separated, have been…can I say copasetic. At the very least, there has been interplay and that is the weirdest thing about Weird Celtics Twitter. This should be a thing that only matters to a small group of fans, but it has bled into the mainstream and infected it with its weirdness in the best possible ways.
Weird Celtics Twitter is having its moment in part because it is the perfect storm of a team and fanbase. These things happen in sports and they are always great. What makes WCT feel different to me is the way it fits with the new media world that the NBA and its players are so eager to embrace. It is not the world of Michael Jordon in Spike-Lee-directed Nike spots and Warner Brother movies. It is the world where Isaiah Thomas releases the extremely personal “Book of Isaiah” on Youtube through The Player’s Tribune. It is the world where Kevin Durant has burner accounts to argue with twitter eggs about his free agency choice and where he coins the term “blog boys” on a podcast, The Ringer puts it on a T-shirt, and Steph Curry wears it to the next game.
Vertical integration in media is gone. Now everything goes everywhere. If you are a cult player and back-up point guard, you jump on the chance to get a few hundred weirdos who love you to embrace your brand, even if it means donning a scream mask and ditching the nickname T-Ro for Scary Terry. Now, the inside jokes have a path straight into the heart of the culture.
And the memes feed themselves. As Celtics players embraced their own weirdness, WeirD Celtics Twitter embraced them more. Kyrie Irving was respected as an elite talent, but his role as IT replacement and his ridiculous flat-earth comments made fans weary of him as a celebrity. Rather than glad-hand Neil Degrasse Tyson and say, “my bad,” Kyrie steered toward the weird and clarified his flat-earth statements with even more obscura and brought fans through the looking glass until it became a kind of charming psuedo-intellectual-goofball mysticism.
The history of sports has mostly been the history of players distancing themselves from the fans. Back in early days of baseball, fans could talk to the players on the bench, move the home run fences forward and back and even see their guys at the bar or the local hotel. The need for security for the athletes and the sports have pushed the two sides apart, but if Weird Celtics Twitter and the 2018 Celtics are any indication, that separation may be waning in a world where intellectual connection does not require physical connection and the two sides are constantly engaged in a strange kind of dialogue that encompasses what happens on the court, in the media, in marketing rooms and ad agencies and on social media.
It is possible that this is simply a chance occurrence; the story of the right team and the right fanbase coming together, but the Celtics Season of the Weird seems like more than that to me. It seems like the first step in fans and players moving closer together in a way that is unique to the world that social media has created.
I am a rabid baseball. I have followed the Boston Red Sox my whole life, covered them with Over the Monster and SBNation on their way to a historic collapse and a glorious World Series run. I have written about trades and transaction both massive and minor. I have spoken on the radio about the game for audiences across the country, in Canada and in Japan. Typically, I spend this time of the year digging deep into the prospect rankings out of Baseball America, Minor League Ball, and Keith Law. In the desperate hours of winter, I have even turned to obscure broadcasts of winter league games, just to get me to the days when Pitchers and Catchers Report. I go overboard for baseball, I go deep.
But I have never gone into the world of College Baseball.
SAT-style analogy: College Football is to College Baseball as Game of Thrones is to
A: Stranger Things
B: 9-1-1
C: Mad Men
D: AMC’s Rubicon
If you chose D, you are not only correct, you are a giant nerd who still pines for a slow-moving show with no stars that no one watched. You are me and only me.
Tortured analogy aside, there is no denying that, while College Football and College Basketball both own places of honor in sporting culture, College Baseball is fringey and weird and of interest only to a small subset of the population that consists of scouts, wanna-be scouts, prospect writers, ex-College baseball players and… I have no idea who else is in this group. While College Basketball and College Football feed the professional leagues with talent, College Baseball has to deal with kids signing out of high school, international prospects, international free agents and a development process that is longer than the one that Good Will Hunting had to battle through. The other NCAA sports have their place at the center of the universe, but even in the baseball world, the College game is a tiny niche.
That is part of the appeal for me. I grew up on College Basketball and loved it with my heart and soul at one time. Give me God Shamgod in Friar black and grey in March and I am all in. But the NCAA has made it hard to feel that same thing now. Kids make millions for their schools and get one or two years of fake educations and we are supposed to look the other way, or worse, be indignant when it turns out that these kids are getting paid under the table. Fuck that. Pay those kids.
Baseball’s older roots in America have made it separate from that system of dishonors to at least a small degree. Kids actually choose college ball over the minors and they make that choice for a ton of reasons, all of which are interesting and worth thinking about. Some actually want to go to school. Some will get more money two years down the road when they have developed more, since baseball is not as accepting of 19-20-year-olds as other sports. Others aren’t in the draft’s field of vision and go to school hoping to get there. All of this makes College ball fascinating. All of this means that I should give at least one season over to watching the College game. If I want to better understand this game I love, I need to do this.
I had kicked around the idea the of following the college game before, but I am committing to it this season in part because of the encouragement and assistance of Michael Bauman, the Ringer baseball writer and one of my favorite baseball people. This off-season he offered help to anyone looking to get into the college game via twitter and I reached out to ask about the best ways to follow. In the course of making good on his offer, Bauman gave me advice on how to follow the game and pointed another interested tweeter to Northeastern teams worth watching. Among them, the St. John’s Red Storm, who are currently ranked 25th by Baseball America and who happened to be local for me.
So this is my experiment. I will spend the 2018 NCAA baseball season following St. John’s baseball team. I hope to see at least one game in Queens, in person. I will follow every game as best I can, watching them when possible, reading the box scores and recaps when I can’t watch and generally obsessing over the team as much as possible. I hope it will be fun. I hope it will teach me something about baseball. Whatever happens, I will be writing about it here, channeling a strange experiment about a silly obsession into what promises to be a bizarre read of minimal import.
Michael Chabon’s 2016 book Moonglow is a novel that sits somewhere between fiction and memoir. Chabon retells the account his dying grandfather gives him of his life from childhood through World War II and up until his final years in Florida as a widower. Chabon fills in gaps in the story with brief additions to the tales from his mother, from his own memory and from some scant research into the historical record of the events his grandfather was a part of. Like all of Chabon’s books, it is a mesmerizing read and a bittersweet story wound around issues of Judaism, the Holocaust, fantasy, and family. I find it hard to shake his books long after reading them and this one is certainly no exception.
In the beginning of the book, the narrator gives the following qualification-
In preparing this memoir, I have stuck to the facts, except when the facts refuse to conform to memory, narrative structure or the truth as I prefer to see it.
That qualification should probably come at the start of every memoir, as the division between fiction and non-fiction is lost in the cloud of memory in the form anyway. But, this qualification at the start of this book is particularly warranted, because Chabon seems to me to want this book to live in a place between a novel and a memoir. What is fact and what is fiction is irrelevant the same way that it might be in a novel, but nothing- at least nothing of great consequence to the story- appears to just be created in service of the story.
Stories and storytelling are at the heart of Moonglow. The narrator- Chabon himself, we are to believe- recounts early on in the book the way that his grandmother would tell stories drawn from a set of tarot cards. Later, he reflects on a time when he uses the same cards to build a house-of-cards in the presence of his grandfather. In this later incident, he muses on the wordplay between a building’s stories and stories of the imaginative kind. It is something of an awkward moment in the book, in my opinion. It is the one time that I felt genuinely drawn out of the book as memoir and set back down in a novel. I immediately recalled the disclaimer at the start of the book which I included above. But even as this bit of novelistic sleight-of-hand gave away the trick, I could not help but like and admire the book even more for it. Even if it is a writerly moment- and it is- it belongs to the world that is created in Moonglow and that world never feels different from the real world, even though it is a world built of stories.
Chabon’s work has often walked a drunken line between memoir and fiction. There are details of his real life throughout Mysteries of Pittsburgh and Wonderboys and both of those novels could easily be interpreted as quasi-memoirs. There is also a sense of place in his books that is so strong and well connected to the real world cities of Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Philly and Oakland that it grounds his fiction close to reality in a way that feels more like memoir. His skill in delivering a sense of place is incredible and every bit as vital to the impact of his work as his vast and sprawling imagination.
Moonglow is a book that racks up the frequent flyer miles. It runs through the swamps of a Florida retirement home, the Western front of Germany in World War II, Jewish Baltimore and its suburbs, a minimum security prison, a mental institution, and a French tannery farm. All of these places and others are brought to life without the need for Tolkienian-sidebars illuminating the landscape down to a blade of grass. The few details given are consistently the right ones and each stop on this long journey through space and time feels perfectly alive.
The places that require and get the wealth of the adjective and supplemental clauses are not the real ones, but the imagined ones- the models and moon-stations that Chabon’s grandfather crafts in his retirement. Chabon writes these with the same care that he tells us his grandfather devoted to building them and the effect that choice is, oddly enough, to make them seem less like real places and more fanciful. The moon-base is the books great metaphor, a place that never comes to exist in the real world but cannot fail to exist inside the members of Chabon’s family, their great shared dream of escape from the planet that made them the broke people and the broken family that they are. Were this simply a novel, the presence of such an obvious bit of symbology would be unremarkable. But lives do not conform to the demands of narrative and even if Chabon readily admits to reshaping them to that purpose, the idea of such an obvious literary device at the heart of a piece of memory is jarring.
Life simply does not conform to our idea of narrative like that.
Instead, life is picaresque. It is a series of often unrelated scenes, a collection of happenings brought about equally by will, by chance, by desire, and by defeat. The long life of Chabon’s grandfather is this way. He stumbles from youthful misadventure into war and espionage. He falls from suburban familial not-quite-grace to imprisonment and rises again as a maker of models of the great rockets he dreamed of building for real. There are cameos from a bearded lady, Wild Bill Donovan, Werner Von Bruan, kindly warden, a hapless dentist and a German priest, all of whom enter and exit life of the tides of chance and circumstance and leave as the ocean rolls back once again. It is the magical realism of memory, not entirely truth, but truer to life than what comes from exhaustive research into the matters at hand as they “really” happened.
If touches like the house of cards or the moon-base feel like they belong to the world fiction, that is no slight against them. Moonglow feels intensely personal and the person relating it is Chabon, a novelist. It is not surprising that he is able to find grand metaphors in the life of his own family and he does not dimish their tale but pointing them out. Instead, what he is able to do with Moonglow is to remind us that the division between fiction and memoir is a false one anyway. Just as buildings are built of stories, lives are as well. We all give segments of our lives the arches of narrative, the trappings of stories. We cannot help it. There are arbitrary beginnings and endings to those stories and their raw material is reshaped to make them worthy of the telling.
In some ways, the struggles of Chabon’s family in Moonglow are struggles with the stories they find themselves in. The stories turn on the moments that the stories that were being told fail the tellers. The grandfather lands in jail after going psychotic on his boss during his firing just as the narrative of a happy, family, at peace in middle-class suburban life is shattered by the ghosts of the past. The imagined kinship between the Jewish-American hero and Von Werner curdles in the light of the Nazi reality. In the most dramatic story in the book, the fantasy of the “night witch,” a character Chabon’s grandmother plays on TV and the demonic presence of the “skinless horse,” which haunts Chabon’s grandmother childhood memories and from her holocaust experiences collide to become too real for her, sparking a mental breakdown.
In Chabon’s telling, his family’s stories are not defined by lines of fiction and reality, they are one in the same. That is literally true for his mentally-ill grandmother. At one point, he describes her tormentor- the skinless horse- as a way of casting her inner demons out into the world so that they will not have to live inside her. Madness might give Moonglow the most direct case of an inner story but every story in the book functions in this way. The stories we tell ourselves about our lives, our own fictions, build the lives that we live. Metaphors like the house of story-telling cards and its own stories or the sanctuary of the moon-base do not need to be created to better make reality fit the demands of a good story because reality itself was created by fiction anyway, it cannot help but fit the form it.
Moonglow is a family epic as much as it is a memoir, but it is a love story as well and it is as a love story that it had the most impact for me. The best stories we tell ourselves are about the people we love. Those are the stories that push us to reach for the moon, even if we can only reach it at a reduced scale.
I am a devotee of Long Island wine. It is a region that has a great deal of personal significance for me and one that I have a far more direct connection than the more heralded regions that are- sadly- far, far away. It is also a region that has substantial issues right now. Wine production on the North Fork began in the late 1970’s when the area was just farmland and fishing posts and the area gained what little traction it has in the wine world in the mid-2000’s, just about the same time I began venturing out there. More than a decade later, as the value of the land just North of the Hamptons is swinging up and up, the prices for North Fork wines have started to outpace their quality. The winemakers have improved, to be sure, but when your quirky Cab Francs are now twice the price of those coming out of Chinon, there is a problem.
One of the producers that has managed to make good wines consistently without getting too pricey for their own good is Raphael. Their Cab Franc, Estate Merlot and Sauvignon Blanc all retail for under $20 in most places and are typically a good value. I picked up the 2015 Estate Merlot for $15 this week and found it to be a good example of what the grape can do in the North Fork for the novice Strong Island hooch.
The 2015 Estate Merlot is deep ruby in color and the nose is bright with notes of cassis, blackberry and cedar with a hit of alcohol that signals the youthful bit to come. The fruit up front is tart. Blackberries and sour cherry run ahead of sharp tannins that could do with some mellowing over time. The finish is arid with a hint of black pepper a key flavor in many of the Long Island reds.
This wine is drinkable now, but there is some projection needed to see it get to its ceiling as it feels a little green overall. At the price, I like the value, but mostly I would recommend this wine as an introduction to the North Fork. The best reds from Long Island share some of the details in common with the Raphael Estate Merlot and bring different tones along for the ride. This isn’t basic exactly, but it no enigma either
50/80- could mellow to an above average pro at it’s peak.
The Bordeaux region of France produces some of the most desirable and collectible wines on earth, wines that are breathtaking in both taste and price. For the vast majority of us, those wines are out of the picture. It just isn’t happening. But, the region is vast and so are its offerings. I have found that it a place to go for reliable quality in reds running from $17-$30 a bottle, where there is a high floor for these wines and still the chance at hitting on something really great. The 2014 Chateau Marjosse didn’t blow me away as a rare gem for the price but it definitely came through enough to be a good value and a safe bet for a meal that needs a quality red wine beside it.
This Bordeaux blend features 80-percent Merlot and 20-percent Cabernet Franc and it is deep ruby color, almost black in the glass. The nose brings some black cherry, allspice, and suede notes. There is a nice medium to full-bodied feel on the mouth with a good deal of black fruits up front, soft chewy tannins and hints of tobacco and bitter cocoa on the finish. Basically, this is a great introduction to what Bordeaux and Bordeaux-style blends are like. There is a lot to like and there is some room for projection here as well, since this is currently a bit harsher than it should be in the future.
While this particular wine is far from the best value-buy I have found from Red Bordeaux blends, with a price tag between $15-$18 dollars, it definitely over-delivers.
60/80 solid starter Bordeaux with some room to age into itself
