Stuff Running 'Round My Head

My dad and I attended our first Sacramento Kings game of the season tonight - the 25th season for the Kings, and our 25th season as part of a season ticket group.

This means that I've now been going to Sacramento Kings games for almost half of my life, which makes me feel just a bit old.

We've been through thick, thin and thinner with the Kings, and with a 4-4 record so far this season it looks (we hope) like they might be heading in the right direction. Hope springs eternal.

Because of their recent drought, our season ticket group was able to upgrade its seats this year without paying more for the tickets. This photo shows our view, which is pretty darn good. Now if they can only develop a team to match the view, we'll be in pretty good shape.

Labels: NBA

I want to thank the kind folks at largehearted boy for linking to my Top 25 of the Decade list.

For new readers landing here from that link, welcome! Hope you enjoy your stay.

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

Since this album just came out last year, I'm going to reprint my original review, and then add some comments at the end. Here goes:

When I was growing up, the All-Star Game was a really big deal to me. I would root fervently for the National League, and back in those days, the National League always won.

One of the most exciting All-Star Games was in 1970, at the late, unlamented Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati. The American League led the entire game, until a furious rally tied it in the bottom of the ninth. The game remained at 4-4 until the bottom of the twelfth, when Pete Rose bowled over Ray Fosse to score the winning run, in one of the most famous (and most replayed) All-Star Game plays of all time. At the time, Fosse was an up-and-coming star, and Rose was on his way to becoming a legend (in ways good and bad), in the first year of the Big Red Machine. Fosse was injured on the play – seriously enough for him to writhe in agony on the ground around home plate for several minutes. He went on to have a solid career, but never approached the potential that many felt he had before that fateful play.

The first song on Vol 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails, the new album by The Baseball Project, is “Past Time.” It begins as follows:

When Campy Campaneris played all nine positions in a game.
When Pete Rose demolished Ray Fosse he was never the same.
31 wins and an album on Capitol for Denny McClain.
So long ago, so long, Pastime, are you past your prime?

When listeners hear those words, their reaction is most likely to fall into one of two categories: “Wow, these guys really know their baseball,” or “Huh?” But even if your reaction is the latter, you might want to give Vol. 1 a shot. Because sometimes, the best music comes from where you least expect it. If someone had told me six months ago that my favorite album of the year would be an album consisting entirely of songs about baseball and baseball players, I probably would have laughed, or sneered and said “yeah, right.”

The brainchild of Dream Syndicate founder Steve Wynn and longtime R.E.M. sideman Scott McCaughey (joined by drummer Linda Pitmon and R.E.M.’s Peter Buck on various stringed instruments), Vol. 1 is an amazing piece of work, one which captures both the grand history and landscapes of baseball, while providing insight into some of the game’s most popular and/or colorful figures, among them Ted Williams, Willie Mays, Big Ed Delahanty, Fernando Valenzuela, Curt Flood, Jackie Robinson, Harvey Haddix, Black Jack McDowell, Satchel Paige, and Mark McGwire. Those players ran the gamut of personalities and played in vastly different eras, but all had great stories behind them - from the legendary “12-inning perfect game that wasn’t” by Haddix, to the trials and tribulations of Ted Williams, supplanted only by Barry Bonds as the game’s least-loved superstar.

What may be most amazing about the album is the way each song gets into the heads of these latter-day heroes, and paints a picture that feels real, and altogether realistic. For example, you can easily imagine Curt Flood (in “Gratitude (for Curt Flood)”) saying something like this:

Now everyone’s walking like they’re rolling in dough.
Throwing all their money around just for show.
Acting like everything is coming to them and knowing that more is just around the bend.
But I’m the one who paved the way and laid my body in the road so you can walk on it today.
I stood right up when they tried to put me down.
You’re so high up, you forget to look down!

You call that gratitude?

Or, Jackie Robinson saying something along these lines (from “Jackie’s Lament”):

If I ever get the chance I’ll let them know just how I feel.
I’d like to speak my mind but that just wasn’t in the deal.
It’s never being easy being first to walk down any road.
I’d trade the glory just to crawl out from this heavy load.
You should hear the things they say behind my back and when I turn the other cheek, they only sharpen their attack.

Which is really just a different way of saying, as Bill James did in the Historical Baseball Abstract:

“…Because so much attention was focused on Robinson, his skills may have been driven more deeply into the public’s mind than the quiet skills of a Red Schoendienst, a Nellie Fox. That is fair, too, for with that attention came a kind of pressure that perhaps no other major league player has had to contend with. Jackie Robinson consumed that pressure and was nourished by it."

Not every song on the album carries the sadness of those two; there is also much humor to be found on Vol. 1 - not to mention a good (but healthy) dollop of nostalgia. But the album’s best songs – those above, plus “Broken Man” (about Mark McGwire), “Long Before My Time” (Sandy Koufax), “Sometimes I Dream of Willie Mays,” “Fernando,” “The Closer” – all just contain a bit of melancholy - recognizing that in this sport, failure and doubt are on the field at all times, right beside fame and glory.

The music is also great – if you didn’t know that “Fernando” and “The Yankee Flipper,” for instance, were about baseball, you could appreciate them just for the depth of the music. Truth be told, there isn’t a bad song on the album.

New thoughts:

In a subsequent post, I gave myself a hard time for failing to mention "Ted F*cking Williams," without question the funniest song on the album. Anyone who's ever read "Ball Four" knows the story of how Ted Williams used to psyche himself up during batting practice - "I'm Ted F*cking Williams, and I'm the greatest f*cking hitter in baseball!"

In the past few months I've had this in heavy rotation on my MP3 player, and I've never gotten tired of a single song. But the one that's grown the most for me is "Harvey Haddix," which tells the story of the pitcher who probably pitched the greatest game in the history of baseball, but has very little to show for it today.

I won't deny it - one's enjoyment of this album will be increased by a significant amount if they are a baseball fan. Notwithstanding that, it is a great album - #15 of the decade, in fact.

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

Last night at Madison Square Garden, Bruce Springsteen did something he’s never done before, and is unlikely to ever do again – he played “The River” in its entirety, in sequence.

As this year’s tour has neared an end, Bruce and the band have taken to playing entire albums in sequence, within the scope of an entire concert. This was something they first tried in May 2008, when at a fundraising show they played both “Born to Run” and “Darkness on the Edge of Town” from start to finish. But until this past weekend, only three albums had gotten the full in-sequence treatment: the two aforementioned works, and “Born in the U.S.A.”

But Bruce obviously wanted to do something special for the Garden party, and this past weekend added two more albums to the mix: “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle” on Saturday night, and “The River” on Sunday night. And while the first show would have been fun, I would have given just about anything to be at last night’s show.

Even though I know “The River” isn’t Bruce’s best album – I still get annoyed every time I hear “Hungry Heart” in concert – it may be the one with the most personal meaning for me. It was the album that came out just a couple of weeks before I saw my first Springsteen concert, the concert where I heard him sing 17 out of the 20 songs on the record (and yes, in those days they really were records). It was my first quarter at Cal, and everything about that first quarter was burned into my memory – the experience of being away from home for the first time, what it was like to be in “real” college classes, the camaraderie in the dorms, my first (and worst) failure in a real college mid-term –it’s all up there somewhere – if not like it was just yesterday, like it was a lot more recent than nearly 30 years ago.

All I can say is that I hope they filmed this show.



As the tour winds down, a lot of people are beginning to get the feeling that this just might be the last time for the E Street Band, at least as we’ve all known it for so long. And yeah, I know they’ve been saying stuff like that about the Stones for almost as long as the E Street Band has been together, but the simple fact of the matter is that none of them are getting any younger, and Clarence in particular is probably not up to many (if any) more tours like the one that is about to wrap up.

So if these are the last shows, at least in the current incarnation of the band, they’re certainly going out in style. Below, reproduced verbatim, are the notes from last night’s show on the Backstreets setlist page.

November 8 / Madison Square Garden / New York, NY

Notes: Context has always been important to Bruce Springsteen's music, and he reinforced that notion with a galvanizing performance of The River in its entirety for the first time on Sunday night at Madison Square Garden. In a precise, exhilarating, and high-energy show, Springsteen faithfully reproduced all 20 of its songs. Most have appeared in shows on various tours since the album's 1980 release, and usually to great effect. But hearing the songs in their original order left many in the building gasping in astonishment.

Springsteen introduced the 20-song cycle as a "gateway to my future writing," singling out "Stolen Car" and the title track as seed work for Tunnel of Love and Nebraska, respectively. He also mentioned the album was "made during a recession," an obvious connection to the hard times of the present. Then he lit it up, and as he made his way from "The Ties That Bind" to "Wreck on the Highway," Springsteen positively radiated with passion and energy.

On the rockers, Bruce got physical: that was evident by the last verse of "Jackson Cage," where he sang with the force and conviction of a young artist trying to win over an audience with a new song. That investment extended to the fun rockers, too: "Crush on You" and "I'm a Rocker" weren't simply dusted off for the night. Rather, they were full-tilt, all-in exhibits A and B of what attracts fans to rock 'n' roll in the first instance, and to Bruce Springsteen's music in particular. Simply put, Bruce couldn't have put any more of himself into those two songs if he had tried. He prowled, vamped, sang, and played guitar as if his very life depended on it. Call it Springsteen uncorked, vintage 1980.

But there's another side to the music from this album, and there Springsteen made an equally resonant connection. "I Wanna Marry You" stood out, as did Bruce, singing at the front of the stage, maracas in hand to keep time. His voice sounded sweet and soulful, his delivery balanced in sentiment and sincerity, and he ended it by taking Patti Scialfa for a slow dance. "Fade Away" was equally resplendent, but this time Bruce ended on his knees as the song faded away. "Drive All Night" was perhaps the evening's emotional high-water mark: the band found one groove after another, and Bruce asked Clarence Clemons for a second sax solo to put a stamp on the crescendo. Steve Van Zandt had a great night too. He was all over the guitar for "Crush on You" and "Cadillac Ranch," and his background vocals — as integral to the album as his role as its co-producer — sounded exactly as they should have: right behind Bruce's voice in the mix. That made for an especially strong version of "The Price You Pay" in only its second appearance since 1981. Props, too, to Charles Giordano for his stately organ playing on this song.

At the outset, Springsteen said that the album would be played like this just once because "it's too long to do it again." Clocking in just shy of two hours, The River felt like a show in and of itself. Afterward, he wasn't ready to end the set, and appeared unknowing of how to end the set. So he departed markedly from his handwritten list of songs, adding a thunderous "Atlantic City," and a romping “Seven Nights to Rock.” In the encore, he treated the audience to a work-up of and then a fine, off-the-cuff "Sweet Soul Music." Another treat appeared as Bruce led the band through "Can't Help Falling in Love." Throughout, he appeared to be a bottomless well of energy. At the end he escorted his vocalists to the platform at the back of the pit to conclude "Higher and Higher."

On this night, where the past met the present, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band lifted the veil, lifted themselves, their music and their audience. Bruce may be wise to let this performance stand alone, because it's one that even he probably can't replicate.- (Jonathan Pont reporting)

Setlist: Wrecking Ball (with Curt Ramm)/The Ties That Bind/Sherry Darling/Jackson Cage/Two Hearts/Independence Day/Hungry Heart/Out in the Street/Crush on You/You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch)/I Wanna Marry You/The River/Point Blank/Cadillac Ranch/I'm a Rocker (with Curt Ramm)/Fade Away/Stolen Car/Ramrod/The Price You Pay/Drive All Night/Wreck on the Highway/Waitin' on a Sunny Day/Atlantic City/Badlands/Born to Run/Seven Nights to Rock/Sweet Soul Music (with Curt Ramm)/No Surrender/American Land (with Curt Ramm)/Dancing in the Dark/Can't Help Falling in Love/Higher and Higher

Labels: Rock and Roll; Bruce Springsteen

Bruce on Dave's last NBC show, June 1993. If this doesn't get you jump-started for the day, nothing will.

"13 Months in 6 Minutes," from an Honorable Mention album, "The Meadowlands."

Until I read the lyrics posted on the YouTube page (and I'm not sure they're entirely correct, but they're close enough), I really didn't care what they were - the song is that hypnotic. The snippets of words that you catch make it obvious that it's a breakup song, but what makes it special is the way the band slowly builds the intensity - the way one verse runs into the next, all while the instrumentation ups the ante.

Great, great song.

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

Labels: family life

When I first wrote about "Kala" upon its release in 2007, I wrote: "The best part of it is that it just sounds exciting – music that you want to tell someone about..."

Nothing since then has changed my estimation of the album. From the very first track, "Bamboo Banga," "Kala" establishes a level of vitality and intensity that just never lets up.

The album is as exotic as anything you'll ever hear - in terms of instrumentation and effects, everything but the kitchen sink can be heard on "Kala" - in his review, Robert Christgau identified "zooms and scrapes and grunts and whistles and kiddie voices and animal cries, weird Asian drums and horns, down-home melodica and didgeridoo," and even that leaves out the gunshots and cash register that make "Paper Planes" so memorable.

But the album comes down to the beats, and M.I.A.'s uncanny ability to wrap her voice (which, based on the live videos that can be found on YouTube, really isn't that strong) around them.

I wish I could rank it higher, but we're starting to get into some pretty head territory now.

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

So we're sitting here watching the HSBC World Golf Championships in Shanghai. Watching a golf tournament live, one that's taking place on Sunday morning on the other side of the world, is an interesting experience in and of itself. Watching Tiger play in the final group with Phil is always entertaining.

Tiger is playing quite poorly thus far, and as I've commented elsewhere, watching Tiger when he's not playing well is never a pleasant experience.

As good as some of them are, you'd never hear an announcer on one of the U.S. networks say anything of the sort. But since this tournament is being covered by the European Tour crew on the Golf Channel, it's a whole new ball game.

So you actually hear one of the announcers saying something like (and this isn't an exact quote, but it's close enough), "well, there's that look again, and when you're viewing Tiger when he's playing like this, it's not exactly what you'd call pleasurable for the viewer."

Labels: Golf

The coach who is leading will say:

1. "We executed well."
2. "We made plays."
3. "They're a great team. We just have to keep up the pressure."
4. "There's a lot of time left. We need to make the right adjustments."

The coach who is behind will say:

1. "We just need to execute better."
2. "We're just not making the plays."
3. "We'll make some adjustments at halftime, and we'll be right back in this thing."
4. "There's a lot of football to be played."

What I'd love to hear them say:

1. "For Christ's sake, you don't honestly expect me to tell you what adjustments we're planning to make, do you?"

2. "Have you ever watched a f*cking football game?"

3. "My _______ (fill in position) is a f*cking idiot who shouldn't even be at this school. What do you want me to do about it?"

4. "What are you doing after the game?"

Labels: College Football

You can say what you will about The White Stripes, but one thing no one will ever be able to take away from them is this:



Fans chanting “Seven Nation Army”

You can probably count on one hand the number of songs that have become synonymous with athletic events: “All Right Now,” “Rock ‘n Roll Part 2,” a handful of others. “Seven Nation Army” is on that short list thanks to European football fans, but now it’s starting to catch on in the U.S. as well – you hear it a lot at college football games, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard snippets of that instantly recognizable chant at pro game as well.



“Blue Orchid”

“Seven Nation Army” isn’t even on “Get Behind Me Satan,” the subject of this piece and the #17 album on my Top 25 of the 2000s. “Blue Orchid” leads off the album and is probably the closest to a guitar anthem on it. But guitar anthems are not the strength of the record; there are several better ones on the albums that preceded it, “White Blood Cells” and “Elephant.” This one gains its strength from the slower ones; the acoustic tunes on which you hear little more than Jack White on acoustic guitar, or the piano. When it first came out, “Satan” reminded me a lot of the moments when Led Zeppelin would put away the bombast and Robert Plant would move into “dreamy” mode – and you’ll just have to trust me that I mean that as a compliment.



“I’m Lonely (But I Ain’t That Lonely Yet)"

In addition to the tune performed in the above clip, standouts include “As Ugly As I Seem” and “Forever For Her (Is Over For Me).” But overall, “Get Behind Me Satan” achieves a consistency that Jack and Meg have never reached elsewhere. The highlights of “Elephant” may be stronger, but overall the follow-up gets the prize – at least in my book – for the title of their best album.

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

When Pleasant Grove High School opened in the fall of 2005, son #1 was a freshman, part of the first class that would attend the school for all four years. As with most high schools, Pleasant Grove opened with just two classes, which meant that their sports programs were strictly of the startup variety - undermanned.

In the school's third year of existence, the Eagles football team came out of nowhere to finish 9-1 in the regular season, and win a playoff game. Son #1 was a member of the marching band and mom was in the band booster club, so I'd attend some of the home games, but wasn't really into it that much. But with each game, you could see the attendance increase, and you could see the building of a community culture supporting the team.

Last fall, the Eagles proved that the previous year hadn't been a fluke. They finished the season 8-2, but really caught fire in the second half of the season, and rode a wave of momentum all the way into the section championship game - which they lost to perennial powerhouse St. Mary's of Stockton. By that time, I was a convert.

This season, the culture behind the team is in full bloom, and son #2 and I have been there at every home game (and one away game). Last night was probably the most exciting game we've seen yet, matching the 6-2 Eagles against the 7-1 Folsom Bulldogs. It looked like we might be in for a long night when Folsom scored on their second play from scrimmage, but the Eagles bounced right back with a TD of their own. Unfortunately, what would become the storyline of the night was foretold when a bad snap led to a missed extra point.

PG took a 12-7 lead into halftime, but what we didn't know was that quarterback Taylor Congdon had been injured late in the first half, and would be unable to return. Without Congdon's passing prowess in the Eagles' arsenal, Folsom was able to key on the run, denying PG again and again. But a combination of scrappy defense and Folsom turnovers kept them in the game, and midway through the 4th quarter, the score remained 12-7.

And that's when all hell broke loose. You could see that the defense was gassed, and Folsom was finally able to take the lead with about 5 minutes to play. In an odd decision, they went for two (sure, it would have given them a 3-point lead, but how often do you see field goals kicked in high school games?), and when they failed, the score was 13-12. I thought that was it, and when the Eagles faced 4th-and-5 at midfield at the 2:30 mark, that seemed to be it. The Folsom fans were all on their feet, and they were loud.

And then, a miracle - a screen pass which came within inches of hitting the ground, caught on a shoestring by Kenny Taylor, who rumbled all the way to the end zone. Bedlam on our side, and after a two-point conversion, a 20-13 lead. But now the defense was really gassed, and Folsom's offense is really good, and before you knew it, the score was tied at 20 and we were heading into overtime. I have to admit that I didn't know how high school games dealt with their ties - each team gets the ball at the 10-yard line, and has four plays to score (or not). Folsom had the ball first and scored their TD, and then on a great Wildcat play, Jalen Saunders scored for the Eagles.

And then, in what might just be the worst way to lose a game, we missed the extra point. Game over. Which is really a shame, because the Eagles' kicker is awesome - he routinely sends his kickoffs into the end zone, and I don't think he'd missed one all season. But something about that bad snap seemed to mess with his head, and...well, I hope he doesn't dwell on it.

That leaves PG in an "Iron Triangle" situation with their closest rivals, Folsom and Monterey Trail (Monterey Trail beat Folsom, PG beat Monterey Trail, Folsom beat PG). With one league game left to play, I think PG can still make the playoffs, but what was obvious last night is that their offense isn't the same without Congdon. If he can't return, that could be it.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote that I couldn't imagine that Sean Penn's performance in "Milk" could have matched up to Mickey Rourke's performance in "The Wrestler."

What can I say - it did.

Penn's performance is the polar opposite of Rourke's. In "The Wrestler," it's impossible to separate Rourke the actor from the character he plays. Rourke's personality, and his history, fuel the performance. On the other hand, Penn completely disappears into Harvey Milk; he becomes Harvey Milk. Every moment that you see Randy "The Ram" onscreen in "The Wrestler," you're thinking about Mickey Rourke. But when you see Harvey Milk onscreen in "Milk," Sean Penn never crosses your mind. Is one performance "better" than the other? I have no idea. They're both great.

And "Milk" is a great film. Harvey Milk himself, no doubt, would be amused over the controversy surrounding Governor Schwarzenegger's signature on legislation designating May 22 as "Harvey Milk Day." While a man of great passion, he was also a man of great humor, and had the good sense (a trait so many modern politicians lack) not to take himself too seriously. I can't say that I'm an expert on the details of Harvey Milk's life, but I know enough about them to think that the details of "Milk" get just about everything right. And the film doesn't try to portray Harvey as a saint; for example, even his best friends and colleagues are mystified (and perhaps even offended) by Milk's relationship with Jack Lira, which quite obviously was based on nothing intellectual.

The supporting cast is excellent, but none is better than Josh Brolin, who manages to elicit a bit of sympathy for one of the least sympathetic human beings of my lifetime. Again, I don't know enough to know whether that's what Dan White was really like, but it certainly felt real.

All in all, a great movie.

Labels: Netflix Movie Reviews

The view from outside my office, heading home this evening.

- I've got to give the Cal Bears a lot of credit for salvaging their season after back-to-back blowout losses against Oregon and USC. Three consecutive wins have taken their record to 6-2, and the Bears don't face a team the rest of the season that they can't beat. Win out, and they could end up in a pretty nice bowl game. On the other hand, none of the teams they're facing the rest of season is a pushover, and we could be looking at a repeat performance in the Emerald Bowl.

- It doesn't happen that often, so when USC gets blown out like they did at the hands (or the webbed feet, if you prefer) of the Oregon Ducks on Saturday night, it is an occasion to savor. And get blown out they did - their defense was atrocious, and faced with the pressure of having to keep up in a shootout, the offense just couldn't keep up.

- You can count me among those who wrote off Oregon after their disastrous opening night loss to Boise State, so now I have little choice but to bow down to the Ducks. Right now, there is no team in the country playing better, and even if the pollsters don't allow them to overcome that opening loss, they're almost a lock to make the Rose Bowl, where they'll likely annihilate whatever team the Big Ten sends out west (sorry, Iowa).

- Every year brings with it a unique BCS controversy, and every year you hear pundits saying that this is the controversy that will finally result in a playoff. Well, this year's unique wrinkle is that Thursday night game up in Idaho. I doubt there are many people in the country (outside of Idaho) who honestly believe that Boise State would win a rematch with the Ducks on a neutral field, but at the same time you can't take that win away from them. What's a voter to do? Right now it may not matter as much, but if the right teams lose at the right time, then the voters will have a very difficult decision to ponder.

- I really hate Florida.

- I watched the entire Iowa game Saturday, but I shouldn't have bothered - the 4th quarter would have sufficed. For three quarters, the Hawkeyes looked awful, and did very little to make viewers understand how the team could be undefeated and ranked 4th in the country. And then, in the 4th quarter - an explosion. Right now, I can't imagine them beating any of the teams ranked above them, but make no bones about it - they know how to win.

Labels: College Football

Was the world really clamoring for a 3-D version of "A Christmas Carol?"

Labels: Apropos of Nothing

Another great song from an album that didn't quite crack the Top 25 - "Crazy," by Gnarls Barkley. In my family we call this our "Hawaii song," because it was in heavy rotation the summer that we took our trip there.



Seriously...how often do you get to see Chewbacca playing drums?

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

Top 25 of the 2000s, #18 - "Is This It," The Strokes

Labels: Top 25 Albums of the Decade

...that I attended my first Bruce Springsteen concert, in Oakland.

I admit it - when I was growing up, I consistently rooted against Muhammad Ali. I think it was because I was a huge Joe Frazier fan. Even at an early age, it aggravated me that Nat Fleischer's Ring Magazine refused to recognize Frazier as the World Heavyweight Champion [when Ali was barred from fighting], until he defeated Ali in the legendary 1971 bout. But what did I know? I was too young to have seen Ali fight, and had seen several key Frazier fights - Quarry, Ellis, Foster, even Bonavena. I was also too young to understand the meaning of Ali, and why he meant so much to so many people.

That would change over time. More has been written about Muhammad Ali than perhaps any other athlete in my lifetime, and over the years I've read well more than my share. And great writers have gravitated to Ali - in The Muhammad Ali reader alone, one can find A.J. Liebling, Tom Wolfe, George Plimpton, Leroi Jones, Norman Mailer, Roger Kahn, Garry Wills, Hunter S. Thompson, Mark Kram, Joyce Carol Oates, and Gay Talese. Today, that should come as no surprise. As an athlete, Ali was a unique combination of charisma, talent and history that has not been matched in my lifetime, and probably has never been matched.

If the story of all great fighters ends in tragedy, then it would make sense that the greatest tragedy of all would involve the greatest fighter of our time. No one dies in "Muhammad and Larry," but it is a tragedy, nonetheless. It tells the story of a fight which should never have taken place - Muhammad Ali vs. Larry Holmes, in the fall of 1980. There have been a lot of fights over the years which should never have taken place. But when your primary subject is Muhammad Ali, the moment of decline represented by the fight brings with it a pain that sears through your soul - a pain that makes you wonder whether all of those people who have written for so many years that boxing is nothing more than savagery are right.

The Sports Illustrated cover shown above is from late September 1980, shortly before the Ali-Holmes fight. SI bought into the illusion, like everyone else did at the time - simply because he was Ali, it was conceivable that the fight could be won. Logic, common sense and simple analysis dictated otherwise, but that didn't stop anyone from hoping. This was Muhammad Ali!

That the story's ending was so obviously pre-determined is what makes "Muhammad and Larry" so painful and sad to watch today. Larry Holmes was an outstanding fighter who, like many fighters of that era, had the misfortune to be practicing his craft at exactly the same time as the most charismatic athlete of the time. Holmes was also a decent man, and not a stupid one. He knew that there was no way he could lose to a 38-year old Muhammad Ali, an Ali who had not fought for over 2 years. Had it been his choice alone, he might not have fought Ali. But at the same time, he had to fight Muhammad Ali, if he was going to make his mark, place his name in the pantheon of great heavyweights. And so fight him he did. And the beating which Ali took that night, no doubt, played a key role in the degeneration that was to come.

It wasn't easy to watch, but so far it has easily been the best of the outstanding "30 for 30" series of films currently running on ESPN.

Labels: Movies of 2009

Special Stuff Running 'Round My Head correspondent Craig K. reports from his first visit to Cowboys Stadium:

Labels: NFL

It’s stating the obvious to say that Mickey Rourke is the only actor working today who could have starred in “The Wrestler.” The parallels between the careers of Randy “Ram” Robinson and Rourke are so striking that it’s impossible to imagine anyone else in the role. Those parallels lend the movie its power, a power that it otherwise might not have had. And while I’ve yet to see Sean Penn’s Oscar-winning performance in “Milk,” I find it hard to believe that Penn’s performance was up to the level of Rourke’s.

It’s a cliché, but in this case it’s true – the screen comes alive when Rourke is on it, and in “The Wrestler” he’s in nearly every scene. Darren Aronofsky’s story is far from sentimental; “The Wrestler” feels almost like the polar opposite of “Rocky.” That’s not a criticism of “Rocky,” but just a way to point out that “The Wrestler” is not about feel-good moments. There are small triumphs, but those are few and far between, and are usually followed by failure, frustration, or even humiliation.

There are times when the emotions feel so real that it’s difficult to watch what is unfolding. But whether it’s the violence of the wrestling scenes, the tenderness (and later on, pain) of the scenes with his estranged daughter, or the camaraderie with the fellow wrestlers, it always feels real – this is a person who wants to do better, but at the same time recognizes that maybe he just doesn’t have it in him. And all along, deep down he knows there is but one thing that he does truly well.

Marisa Tomei also deserves major kudos for her role as Cassidy, the stripper who in lesser hands might have nothing more than the “stripper with a heart of gold” cliché. Aronofsky’s script never lets Cassidy descend to that level, and as played by Tomei the character is a perfect counterpart to Rourke’s Robinson.

One can only hope that this isn’t the last we’ll hear of Rourke.

Labels: Netflix Movie Reviews