Chapter 73.1: Passing of a Forgotten Sports Legend

I consider myself fairly knowledgeable about baseball and its history, and even I had forgotten about Bob Howsam. [Billy Beane beware; this may be what happens to you 40-50 years from now.]

So when I saw Howsam's obituary the other day, I felt embarassed for demonstrating yet again how quickly people forget. It's easy to point to Howsam's successes building the Cincinnati Reds clubs of the 1970s -- the Big Red Machine.

He was the general manager who hired Sparky Anderson -- a basically unknown former entity in 1970 -- to manage the team. Even Anderson, who went on to become a Hall of Fame manager of World Series champions in both the National (Reds) and American (Tigers) leagues -- was surprised at being named manager. Together, Anderson and Howsam put together a team that was the best NL team of 1970s, and after the A's, the second best team of that decade.

Howsam also helped create the Denver Broncos in the old American Football League. That was before my time, but apparently they were known for having really ugly socks. Of course, they became known for much more than that. While Howsam was running the Big Red Machine, the Orange Crush Defense and quarterback Craig Morton were getting beaten in the Super Bowl by the Dallas Cowboys. Later, the Broncos became John Elway's team and won two championships after several disappointments. I don't know how much -- if at all -- Howsam's legacy fit into those achievements, but his is a name that should not have been forgotten.

Chapter 73: One of the Greatest?

Roger Clemens, who's best known currently for being accused of having a pin cushion for a butt, is frequently described as one of baseball's all-time greatest pitchers. But I can't help but wonder what such accolades are based on. His seven Cy Young Awards, three more than anyone else? His 354 victories, eighth all time (for now)?

But this is exactly the point that anti-steroid people should be harping on: anything he achieved after he allegedly started using the drugs is tainted. The man was breaking down; steroids and HGH reportedly help speed up the healing process. His fastball was becoming less dominant, but suddenly he went to Toronto and was able to mow down the opposition, winning the Cy Young Award in both seasons north of the border. I believe he won almost 200 games for the Red Sox, so he surely would have topped 200 if he'd never taken any enhancements. He'd won two Cys in Boston with three 20-win seasons and a pair of 18-win years. And of course he had struck out thousands of batters and been the first to notch 20 Ks in a nine-inning game (twice).

In short, he was a probable Hall of Famer. Does it matter that at that point, he wasn't among the top five who could compete for "one of the greatest"?

You see, I don't care who is called "the greatest" of the past fifty years, because none of these guys is Cy Young or Walter Johnson. They're not even Christy Mathewson. In a big game, I'd take any of those guys over the Rocket. I'd lean toward Tom Seaver or possibly Warren Spahn over Clemens at any point during the regular season. [Spahn is one of those guys who never gets enough credit. He retired with 363 wins -- fifth all time -- and probably would have topped 400 if not for World War II.]

I am sick of hearing about Roger Clemens the pitcher. I'm far more interested in seeing his reputation sink lower. Remember when Roger was best known as a headhunter? Then he was a surly bugger who wasn't satisfied with earning his salary. Red Sox fans hate him.

No. This man is not one of the greatest pitchers, at least as I define them (top five). Take him away.

Chapter 72.9: Jump In, The Movie's Fine!

Valentine's Day is a lot more enjoyable when you're past your twenties and happily married. A long day at work turned into a wonderful evening when I got home, because unbeknownst to me my wife had decided that if I ran late, we'd see a movie. Funny how fate works and time changes everything.

With that seemingly inoccuous item, I jump to my point: Jumper. The story of a young man who discovers that he has the ability to circumvent the laws of space (but not time, thankfully) and zip from here to there faster than I can type. A lot faster.

I suppose this type of thing has been done before, but I don't care. I also don't care that it's received mixed reviews. I enjoyed this film.

It has flaws, however. Hubris, for one. It's rather ballsy to assume you'll have an audience for a trilogy, which is what this film is proposing to do. But with its comic book feel (though it's based on a novel by Stephen Gould) perhaps developing an audience isn't so tough, I don't know. More importantly, the film feels incomplete. A good first episode of a trilogy -- see Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings -- needs to feel like a story was told. Jumper felt like a TV pilot.

Another flaw is that the main characters are left woefully undeveloped. You come out of Star Wars and the Fellowship of the Ring feeling like you know something about Darth Vader or Strider/Aragorn. But Jumper leaves you with two scenes of the lovely Diane Lane, who plays David's estranged mother. And you know virtually nothing. I'm sorry, that's lazy writing and directing. You needed a scene to establish some connection, some love, some something. Screw mystery, an audience needs to connect with the characters. All this did was set up film No. 2. Insert $10, press play. Go screw yourself. (Like I said, there are flaws.)

But there's enough potential in the first movie for me to see the second film. The cinematography is excellent, for one thing. The effects feel as natural as possible, and the exciting thrill ride aspect of the chase scenes is wonderful. You don't have to be twelve to think this film is cool.

And Jamie Bell, who plays Griffin -- David's mentor/friend -- is excellent (despite being occasionally incomprehensible, what with that thick accent of his). Film fans may know Bell best as Billy Elliot (Dance, Billy, dance!), but he's become quite a strong actor since then. Rachel Bilson's cute, of course, though I hope she's given more of a role to play in the future.

But the real thrill in this film comes from the always amazing Samuel L. Jackson. I truly believe this man could play just about anything, but he's best with an edgy character. And as Roland he plays a (potentially) complex role of the nemesis to Hayden Christensen's David; Roland claims to be moral, but the audience can't help but feel he's basically a cop, and who knows what morality means in a world where people flit from place to place without law.

I'll leave it at that, since that's the type of ending this film engenders. Suffice it to say, I enjoyed Jumper. I'll watch the second installment, but there needs to be some pay-off for this investment. I like the characters. Now show me something other than pleasant gimmicks.

Chapter 72.8: Long Live Signman!

In this era of throwback baseball stadiums, with their entertainment areas, swimming pools, and oh yeah baseball, one aspect that hasn't quite been retrofitted is the sense of continuity. Owners have tried, of course. They've incorporated elements of previous eras -- the little hill in deep center at the Astros park and the cut line from home to the pitchers' mound in Arizona, for instance -- but they come off as affectations. What really makes continuity and atmosphere in a stadium are the fans.

As a longtime Met fan, I still have many memories of the Signman (Karl Ehrhardt)who seemed to attend almost every game at Shea when I was growing up in the late '70s, when the team stank so bad fans almost needed masks. Only a kid could love a staff that included Craig Swan, Pat Zachary, and Nino Espinosa. The Signman was unique. You knew you were watching a Mets game (on WOR, Channel 9) when the camera showed him hoisting some clever commentary about a play or a player. Perhaps the most famous were associated with the '73 team that was in last place in September and went on to win the division with an 81-win season. "Ya Gotta Believe!" Tug McGraw exclaimed, and the Signman, in late September and early October, would reply "We Believe!"

The signman died this past week. He was 83. I for one have missed him. According to a 2006 article, the Signman had caught the message of the team's new ownership in the early '80s and stopped coming to Shea, where the stink of the late '70s teams lingered. Like Tom Seaver before him, Signman was no longer wanted by anyone but the fans.

I wish Signman had had a chance to move with the Mets into the new Citi Field, which is expected to open in about 13 months. I think there's reason to believe the Wilpons would have invited him. He'd been brought back before -- in 2002 to help celebrate the team's fortieth anniversary -- and I hope they do something to commemorate him this year.

The Wilpons designed the new stadium in the image of the old Ebbets Field where the Brooklyn Dodgers played. They seem to have some sense of history. If they know their fans, they'll recognize the late Ehrhardt's passing somehow this year. And if they hope to populate Citi Field with more than simply three million fans -- if they want to retain the best aspects of Mets history in the new home -- then they'll honor Signman in the new stadium. It's the right thing to do.

Chapter 72.7: God Speed, Columbus

Perhaps this isn't the most appropriate lead into a post, but I missed the actual fiftieth anniversary of NASA last week, so I'm doing it anyway. Today, Space Shuttle Atlantis launched successfully into space, carrying with it the Columbus lab built by the European Space Agency. If all goes right, it will dock with the International Space Station on Saturday.

I refuse to be spooked by the backstory of how this launch was supposed to occur in December but was delayed due to malfunctioning fuel-tank sensors, and how rainy weather almost scuttled the flight today. I prefer to think of how fitting that after fifty years of American dominance in space (ok, the Russians have certainly proven they are quite capable, but we got to the Moon), we are venturing forward in a much more global endeavor. There are many detractors out there who believe spending tax money to ship people into space is a waste, but I disagree. I'm all for looking toward the future and supporting work that is designed to make the future something worth reaching.

I like that governments -- as well as individuals -- support discovery, support adventure. Sure it can be risky, as the numerous deaths in our skies and closer to earth can attest to. In my eyes the tragedy isn't simply that these people died (of course, that's terrible), but that most Americans don't appreciate what these astronauts are striving to achieve and thus seem to die in vain. Such a comment begs the question: What are the astronauts trying to do? Obviously, the answer is different with each mission, but in a nutshell, they're trying to advance civilization, small step by small step.

I'm sure people could argue about how rockets and the satellites they carry can be automated, and high-placed officials with the right credentials argue about those very things and build informed trains of thought. But there's still something to be said for human adventure. And as it would have been tragic if other Europeans didn't follow Columbus to the newly discovered America, so too is it tragic if this Columbus is not followed by other laboratories, other astronauts, other human-based missions. To the Moon, Alice, and on to Mars. But not before we have an informed understanding of what is involved in getting there.

God Speed, Atlantis. Deliver Columbus to her destination. And come back safe. There's more to do in the future.

Chapter 72.6: Giants!!!

They did it!

The Giants have won the Super Bowl, defeating the heavily favored New England Patriots. This truly was one of the most exhilerating sports experiences of my life. Not quite as thrilling as Game 6 of the 1986 World Series or as satisfying as the Mets victory in that same series.

This game was even more thrilling than the Giants last Super Bowl victory, over the Buffalo Bills, because that was largely due to Scott Norwood's failure to make a field goal.

Eli to Tyree! Eli to Plaxico. Fantastic memories that every Giants fan will cherish for generations.

Thanks guys. Enjoy the much deserved accolades!

Chapter 72.55: So Begins the Santana Era

It is official, Johan Santana is a Met (ok, pending a physical. So shoot me.)

I found it very interesting that there were multiple reports that the Players Union was pushing Santana's agents to make sure the contract at least reached the $150 million barrier. From what's being reported, he will earn that much from the Mets; the only difference the team might argue is that part of it was due to bonus, but that's a semantic difference in my non-legal opinion. The union's stake in this is irritating to say the least. I realize they're trying to establish new standards to enable their members to maximize their career earnings, and that's what they're supposed to do. But a big part of that comes out of the wallets of the already frustrated fans.

I'll be lucky to afford to attend one game next year. I just can't throw money for a game these days. But I'll want to visit Shea one last time (though if I don't, then Tom Glavine's 298th win would be my final visit.) And when they go to the new ballpark in 2009, the tickets will be even more expensive.

But that's for another time. Right now, I am happy. My favorite team has improved itself. Spring training will start (for the Mets) on Valentine's Day. And like the lovestruck fool that I am, I return to the one who hurt me not so long ago. Ah, frailty, thy name is Mets fan.

Chapter 72.5: Is Inspiration Enough?

I wasn't alive during the time of John F. Kennedy, and during brother Robert's tragically short campaign I was too young to understand anything that didn't mean "food." So I don't know exactly what it's like to have lived while a politician was able to inspire us. The closest thing to an inspirational leader was the fictional Jed Bartlet during the West Wing years, and even that wasn't really inspirational.

So I read George Packer's story in the New Yorker with great interest. So too, Paul Krugman's essay on the lasting effect of John Edwards on the campaign.

Packer outlined differences between Sens. Obama and Clinton and their presumed approaches to the presidency. Obama would be an 'Inspirer in Chief' and offer hope to the masses. Not a bad goal at all, and I could subscribe to that. But if he's as disorganized as Packer suggests, then we'll all pray to God that he has an excellent team of staff to pick up after him. All presidents need that, but a President Obama might need it more. President Hillary Clinton would be a leader that "would have to use unifying rhetoric and reach across partisan lines. But ... she is readier to march ahead and let those who will follow her do so." As Packer adds, "These rival conceptions of the Presidency—Clinton as executive, Obama as visionary—reflect a deeper difference in how the two candidates analyze what ails the country."

I have said in this blog and in conversations with friends of various political persuasions, I consider myself a moderate but I also found the populism espoused by John Edwards to make the most sense. I respect that he said, in effect, to have the healthcare system most of us believe we need (i.e., one that covers all Americans), we're going to have to raise taxes. This would be difficult to carry out, admittedly. Clinton's suggested health plan is very much like Edwards' plan. [Which makes me wonder, would he be a good choice to fill the role of Secretary of Health and Human Services, or lead the healthcare charge as Vice President, or should he be Attorney General, where his talents seem best suited? And if he had any of those roles, would a President Clinton or a President Obama be concerned about the prospect of cabinet member Edwards trying to draw too much credit and run against the sitting president?] I have no doubt that a President Clinton would have an active role in shaping that national discussion. How would a President Obama inject his vision of national healthcare? It could be a wonderful plan, and I'm willing to hear him discuss it. But Edwards' plan sounded best to me.

New Jersey is among the nearly two dozen states that will hold a primary on Super Tuesday (soon after the Super Bowl. Go Giants!), and I'm still unsure who I'll vote for. I'm probably leaning toward Clinton at the moment, she seems more able to step in and lead. But Obama is an inspiring figure. So I'm left wondering, Is Inspiration Enough? Sen. Obama's comments about Iran earlier in the campaign concerned me. Is he so naive to think that having a simple conversation with the Iranians will actually be perceived as a simple conversation? Good God! People who can honestly say the met the president at the White House -- any president -- seem to others as if they've reached a pinnacle. That's why photo ops are considered important. They lend credibility to the poor schmoe next to the hot shot.

The wife of a friend of mine ran for public office in their home town; she used a photo of her with then Sen. Jon Corzine in her publicity. It made her look like she had connections, which was the point. She'd never met him before the evening when the photo was taken. I suspect the other candidates in line after her to get their photo taken were similarly unfamiliar with Sen. Corzine. At a certain level, it's all about appearances.

So publically speaking with a high-ranking official of a nation we publically accuse of sponsoring international terrorism is a mistake. No ifs ands or buts about it. Would a President Obama agree with campaigning Obama? I don't know. And I see it as something that would create tension in an Obama White House. Like the fictional President Bartlet, his administration would make a lot of early mistakes. I'm not sure we can afford to let him struggle so much.

But I also don't know that we can afford to have a Republican continue in the office for the next four years. So can Sen. Clinton defeat Sen. McCain? That's a subject for another day. If I'm so inspired.