Christopher Caldwell and Jonathan Mahler
Dear Chris,
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StumbleUponYou anti-poetic diatribe against those who would intellectualize baseball--a loathsome breed, to be sure--was, well, it was downright poetic. But my own inclination is to cut those poor Red Sox fans a little slack. Suffer they must, so why not let them at least try to do it with dignity. Or at the very least, allow them to delude themselves into thinking that their suffering is part of some grand literary project. You know, when life gives you lemons ...
And it would certainly be presumptuous of me to even suggest that I can feel their pain. You see, Chris, I was born into the Yankees. My father was a nice Jewish boy from the Bronx (a graduate of Bronx Science and everything!), reared in the shadow of the House That Ruth Built. Best of all, I grew up in California, so I got to have it both ways: I could satisfy my adolescent desire to rebel against prevailing social norms (the Angels were the team of choice in my hometown) and root for a winning team.
My favorite childhood memory: Every summer, we would come to New York so that my parents could lend some currency to that old Saul Steinberg cartoon (you know, the one where New York is, like, really big, and everything else is, like, tiny). Anyway, for some still-unknown reason, my parents and sister loved going to the light opera. The Pirates of Penzance, HMS Pinafore, you name it, this budding philistine slept through it.
So one sultry day, we're slated to attend one of these Gilbert and Sullivan horrors. The plan was that my dad and I were going to meet them at the theater after we ran some errand. (We were probably supposed to buy me a new navy blazer; the only thing worse than hearing "Naughty Marietta," or whatever the hell the name of the stupid song is.) So, we get into a taxicab and my dad grins and says, "161st Street and River Avenue." It gets better: They were giving out free Reggie bars at the game!
I can very much relate to your experience of getting obsessive about baseball during the bluer periods of your life. I've had a similar experience myself, which is no doubt why I'm counting down the days to opening day this year (37 to go!). But I digress. Was the summer of 1978 a good one or a bad one for you? I'd love to hear your recollections on that pennant race. (No, I'm not being sadistic; I really want to know.) Here's a gesture of good faith to prove it: There's certainly no reason to doubt that Carl Everett can hit in the A.L.
And I like your idea of inducting Buckner into the Hall. Or maybe they can just build a larger-than-life-size model of him. You know, so visitors can walk between his legs like that slow roller did. Or was it a sharply hit ground ball? Can you refresh my memory?
And while you're at it ... let there be an abundant clubhouse feast! Bring me the finest meats and cheeses in all of the land! Uh-oh, I just remembered that you saw only six movies last year. Does that mean that you don't watch SportsCenter?
I leave you with a quote from Bull Durham: "Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains."
'til soon,
Jonathan
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Highlights from The Fray:
[The Breakfast Table participants covered a wide variety of serious and political subjects this week, and as usual Fraygrants knew which were the really important topics, and were keen to participate in the life of the mind:]
The reason the quoted verse of the Steely Dan lyrics makes no sense is that you have omitted the central line:
Doesn't that make it crystal clear?
--Ralph Bartlett
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I rather think that Jonathan missed Chris' main point. Baseball teams shouldn't be adopted for their success, or for their failures. There's something mightily strange about growing up in California and rooting for the Yankees. After all, there was hardly any shortage of New York teams on the West Coast - whence the need to appropriate the only one that remained where it belonged? I'm a Red Sox fan because I was born and raised fifteen minutes from Fenway Park, because one of my strongest childhood memories is the glory of '86 (and yes, the pain), and because hope springs eternal at the end of winter. I do, however, want to compliment Chris. He may not be a native New Yorker, but he seems as smugly superior as any Yankees fan whom I have ever met.
--Yoni
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Maybe it's one of those "you had to have been there" sort of things, but I thought The Sure Thing was charming. It was funny without being crude or stupid. And the punchline you were strugling with? After a series of catastrophes, the protagonists find themselves locked out of shelter in a downpour. The girl suddenly recalls that she has a credit card, but "I'm only supposed to use it for emergencies!"
--Bill Altreuter
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To Bill Altreuter:
Actually that was the set-up line. The punch line followed: "Maybe one will come up."
--B.Roman
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You should start and post a list of phrases to be banned from the press henceforth. My three nominees (for now): 1) sloe-eyed; 2) tsunami; 3) "I knew (blank) and you're no (blank)."
--Matt Murray
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Here are some more proposed Taboo Phrases: 1) Its the *******, stupid! 2) Risky tax schemes 3) Move forward 4) Media savvy 5) Sole remaining Superpower 6) Outside the mainstream 7) Go negative.
--John McGraw
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