This is in no way going to be a baseball-centric blog, but, c'mon, it's the post-season. Promise the next ten after this won't be about baseball.
I surveyed a couple of Mets fans about a possible Yankees v. Phillies World Series. This says it all.
fromElliot Choi
Fucking apocalypse. I have discussed this with multiple Mets fans. It breaks down according to geography. Mets fans in philly do not want to be here for another World Series parade and be surrounding by smug asshole phillies fans. Plus we can't have a team in our division win back to back championships.
On the flip side, Mets fans in NYC, do not want the yankees to have another parade in the city and also to christen the new stadium with a fucking championship.
I see it as the marginal negative value to me of the yankees winning another title is way less than the marginal negative value of the phillies winning another World Series. Either way, fml.
Thoughts, Mets fans?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Baseball on My Mind
It's playoff season. And not just that, the Yankees are playing deep into it. To honor the game I was thinking I'd find the best baseball quotes, the ones that most uniquely capture why it's such a damn good game, and I'd post them on this here blog. I started to gather a few very good ones, but then decided to change course.
Last December, I read a book called Human Smoke by Nicholson Baker, a novelist and a pacifist. The book is essentially a collection of vignettes about the lead up to and the early days of the Second World War. It paints a dark picture of not only the Axis Powers, but also of the intentions and actions of the Allies. War is hell, basically, no matter what side you're on. Very powerful book and its overall thesis is up for debate. If you read it, let me know. We'll get a drink.
Anyway, the reason I'm bringing up the book is because in it is a short little story, set in a German prison camp, I think captures an aspect of why baseball is such a wonderful game.
A guard unlocked a metal door on Howard Schoenfeld's cell block. One of the solitary confinees, Donald Benedict, was a very good pitcher; Warden Gerlach needed him for a crucial prison league softball game. Benedict said he wouldn't play unless everyone in solitary confinement - not just him and not just the pacificists but everyone - was released.
Warden Gerlach pondered for an hour then ordered everyone's release from solitary. Benedict pitched a no-hitter. The prison erupted in celebration. "It was a mass catharsis of human misery," Schoenfeld wrote. "Some of the men were weeping, others were laughing like madmen. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, and nothing I expect to see again."
Go Yankees.
Last December, I read a book called Human Smoke by Nicholson Baker, a novelist and a pacifist. The book is essentially a collection of vignettes about the lead up to and the early days of the Second World War. It paints a dark picture of not only the Axis Powers, but also of the intentions and actions of the Allies. War is hell, basically, no matter what side you're on. Very powerful book and its overall thesis is up for debate. If you read it, let me know. We'll get a drink.
Anyway, the reason I'm bringing up the book is because in it is a short little story, set in a German prison camp, I think captures an aspect of why baseball is such a wonderful game.
A guard unlocked a metal door on Howard Schoenfeld's cell block. One of the solitary confinees, Donald Benedict, was a very good pitcher; Warden Gerlach needed him for a crucial prison league softball game. Benedict said he wouldn't play unless everyone in solitary confinement - not just him and not just the pacificists but everyone - was released.
Warden Gerlach pondered for an hour then ordered everyone's release from solitary. Benedict pitched a no-hitter. The prison erupted in celebration. "It was a mass catharsis of human misery," Schoenfeld wrote. "Some of the men were weeping, others were laughing like madmen. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, and nothing I expect to see again."
Go Yankees.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
An Interview with Woody Allen
I've discovered very early on that the name of my blog is going to be a sort of misnomer. Anyway, you could probably read this, but I just don't think it'd be as funny. Enjoy.
Monday, October 19, 2009
A Letter from Clyde Barrow to Henry Ford
Sitting on my bedside table is a book I snagged from my parents. It's a collection of letters a couple of NY Times writers deemed the best letters of the 20th century. Each night before I pass out for six to eight hours and experience strange dreams several of you are often a part of (I won't go into detail), I read a few. I've found this one to be the most entertaining so far. A friend informed me no one knows the name Clyde Barrow. And I agree. I certainly wouldn't recognize the name alone. Clyde from Bonnie and Clyde.
Tulsa, Okla
10th April
Mr. Henry Ford
Detroit Mich.
Dear Sir: --
While I still have got breath in my lungs I will tell you what a dandy car you make. I have drove Fords exclusively when I could get away with one. For sustained speed and freedom from trouble the Ford has got ever other car skinned and even if my business hasen't been strickly legal it don't hurt anything to tell you what a fine car you got in the V8 --
Yours truly
Clyde Champion Barrow
Tulsa, Okla
10th April
Mr. Henry Ford
Detroit Mich.
Dear Sir: --
While I still have got breath in my lungs I will tell you what a dandy car you make. I have drove Fords exclusively when I could get away with one. For sustained speed and freedom from trouble the Ford has got ever other car skinned and even if my business hasen't been strickly legal it don't hurt anything to tell you what a fine car you got in the V8 --
Yours truly
Clyde Champion Barrow
Held By the Taliban
Nothing obscure to start with. From this Sunday's NY Times a haunting and vivid first-person account of the current state of Afghanistan, Pakistan, and the Taliban. Follow the entire five-part piece. I will be.
7 Months, 10 Days in Captivity
7 Months, 10 Days in Captivity
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