I have some big news. Ready? Here goes:
I’ve got a new cowboy hat. I know! Isn’t it exciting? Here are some a pictures of it.
 |
 |
By the way, I am not deathly afraid of graven images. They just make me nervous sometimes.
I suppose by now I’ve learned there are a lot of things you shouldn’t trust. Politicians. The media. Hollywood. Agendas. Maybe even your eyes.
It’s been a long day with some lingering projects that have kept me from posting on Puck until now. I suspect there has been a lot said elsewhere already (yep – I didn’t have to look very far; a quick check and Doug has thoughtfully provided a list). Truth be told, part of the reason it has taken me awhile to get to this is I’ve been wondering what to write. Not if I should write, but what.
The first time I saw him in person was when he debuted at the Metrodome in ’84. He’d been called up from the minors and joined the team on a West Coast road trip and had been an immediate sensation. I was working as a scoreboard operator at the Dome then and it was my luck to draw the new kid’s first home game. As a kid I’d been at Busch stadium when Bake McBride made his debut as a late-season call-up with my Cards and always remembered the stadium announcer informing us of the fact as I watched McBride’s solid career go on. I remember thinking of that when Puck was introduced and went out to centerfield. Could he be something special, too?
It wasn’t long before a ball was lined into center and the unlikely looking kid, knees and elbows pumping, came charging in to field it on the hop. We all watched with interest as he snatched and threw … and saw the ball bounce eight times before it got to the cut-off man. Even at that, though, there was something likeable about seeing a guy so excited to be getting a chance. Of course, it soon became clear that he was the real deal. As he motored around the outfield and the basepaths as improbably as a turbo-charged bumblebee in flight he always seemed to be to be a size larger than life. I grieved the sudden glaucoma that ended his career not just because it robbed me of the chance to keep watching a once-in-a-generation player but because I knew it hurt him even more. Even then, going out, he was Puck; upbeat, smiling, saying don’t be sad for me, I’ve had the greatest opportunity a guy can have, be sad for the ones who never got a chance.
Next it was on to the Hall of Fame, and shortly after that it was the Hall of Funhouse Mirrors – twisted, distorted images at once familiar and bizarre. The stories, the allegations, the time when “touch ’em all” went from being a celebration to being an accusation, to the trial, to the acquittal and to the bitterness, and now he was larger and larger, and ultimately larger than life, or what life could sustain.
At the time of the trial, I wanted some assurances, some opportunity to say, “Say it ain’t so, Joe” to Puck. Strangely enough, the article that stuck with me, the one that touched me, was by Ralph Wiley, then writing for ESPN’s Page 2. Ironically R-Dub, too, would be another great talent taken too suddenly and too soon from us. Wiley didn’t even like Puck that much, but offered a piercing, bittersweet turn on the whole affair. I went to ESPN earlier this evening to search the archives so I could read it again and I didn’t have to dig; it had already been re-posted.
Another fair writer, William Shakespeare, had Julius Caesar say that a brave man dies only once, but a coward dies a thousand times. There’s got to be another category for superstars, though, where even the greatest leaves the field at an age where everyone else in the real world is still trying to prove themselves. For some of these there are more deaths to come: of reputation, of respect. I wasn’t quite sure of what to make of the things that happened and were said about Puck. I was sure of what I’d seen on the field but then I didn’t need a sportswriter to tell me what happened, or to create the drama. Later there was too much drama, and too many opinions, and apparently no arguing with the Umpire of Society when you get tossed.
If you sit still, however, and listen, you might be able to hear the echoes all the way from Baseball Heaven as the late Bob Casey leans into the mike and says, “Now entering, KIR-beeeeeeeeee PUCK-it!”
Ballyrag (or Bullyrag)
(BAL ee rag) (BOOL ee rag) verb
To ballyrag or bullyrag someone is to harass or abuse him, in the more violent sense of the word, or less dramatically, to tease him. Fowler says that the derivation is unknown, and that ballyrag is the far more common and preferable form, but other dictionaries give bullyrag as the first choice. To rag someone is to tease him, in American usage, but in British usage, to do rather more than that: to persecute him with crude practical jokes, with rag also a noun denoting that kind of tormenting behavior. The bullyrag form probably has some connection with bully, embellished by rag. In any case, bally– or bullyragging is reprehensible abusive horseplay and badgering, the kind employed, for example, in the sort of fraternity hazing that is a practice now mercifully fading from the scene.
From the book, “1000 Most Challenging Words” by Norman W. Schur, ©1987 by the Ballantine Reference Library, Random House.
My example: Scott McClellan is a better man than I to daily subject himself to the ballyragging of the White House Press Corps.
I post a weekly “Challenging Words” definition to call more attention to this delightful book and to promote interesting word usage in the blogosphere. I challenge other bloggers to work the current word into a post sometime in the coming week. If you manage to do so, please leave a comment or a link to where I can find it.
Update:
Leo has a new ballyragious header over at Psycmeistr’s Ice Palace!
ballyrag' to Del.icio.us" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Del.icio.us" />ballyrag' to digg" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to digg" />ballyrag' to reddit" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to reddit" />ballyrag' to Stumble Upon" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Stumble Upon" />ballyrag' to Google Bookmarks" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Google Bookmarks" />ballyrag' to Ask" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Ask" />ballyrag' to FaceBook" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to FaceBook" />ballyrag' to Barrapunto" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Barrapunto" />ballyrag' to MySpace" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to MySpace" />ballyrag' to Twitter" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Twitter" />ballyrag' to Social Bookmarking Reloaded" alt="Add 'Challenging Word of the Week: ballyrag' to Social Bookmarking Reloaded" />I checked my blog for new comments and traffic around lunch time today and was stunned to see a day’s worth of traffic had already come and gone! Usually the “referral” tab on the meter gives an indication of which blog, web site or search engine referred a visitor to me, but it everyone was coming in “unknown”. The only thing I could tell at first was that everyone was hitting the Fundamentals in Film archive, which was really strange because I had posted the latest film yet. Someone must have mentioned this somewhere but the TTLB and Technorati were silent.
A little further digging, however, showed that just about everyone hitting that film archive lives in Michigan.
Does somebody over there want to tell me what’s going on? Is there a Michigan version of the MOB (Minnesota Organization of Blogs)? Why has everyone turned into film aficionados?
Anyway, you’re all welcome. Feel free to stick around!
| This week’s movie, The Tuskegee Airmen, is based on a true story about a group of young black men recruited to be fighter pilots in World War II. It’s a stirring and thought-provoking movie that easily stands on its own from a cinematic and historical perspective, but at the same time it plays almost like a sequel to another movie, Glory (see link below). While the black Union soldiers in Glory were fighting for freedom, the men in this movie are fighting for equality and both groups have to overcome many of the same hurdles and pay a blood sacrifice as a down-payment on that goal. (Another commonality is the appearance of Andre Braugher in both movies, as Thomas in Glory and as Col. Benjamin O. Davis in The Tuskegee Airmen.
I recommend this movie to young men not just for its themes of honor, perserverence and looking out for one another but because it deals effectively (and not too heavy-handedly) with the additional burden of being a standard-bearer for your race and the daily, deliberate attacks on your character, integrity and sense of self. In this case these attacks come through racism but in every area of life we are going to be faced with people who don’t like us for some reason — faith, background, politics, accent, past mistakes — and have the power to mess with our lives. When it happens will you blow up, wash out or persevere? |
 |
The movie is also an interesting perspective for anyone who assumes that nothing much happened to the conditions of blacks in the U.S. in the 100 years between the end of the Civil War and the civil rights movement. While the young cadets are the first of their race to pursue combat pilot status, each of the young men is college educated. Further, the men from the North had a culture shock when they arrived in the South, such as being removed from their train car because it was now “Whites Only” — and seeing their seats given to German prisoners of war being transported. “Normal” treatment for the southern men, but shocking to the ones from Iowa and New York.
The ensemble cast is universally solid and even exceptional, though it did seem to me that Laurence Fishburne alternates only between super-solemn and solemn moods and Cuba Gooding, Jr. plays, well, Cuba Gooding, Jr. The most interesting character for me was Lt. Glenn (Courtney Vance), the black “liasion officer” between the white chain of command and the cadets during their training. As the only pilot – black or white – on the base with actual combat experience (from volunteering in the Canadian Air Force) his demeanor is ultra-sharp and tightly controlled but you can still see the powerful emotions and drive in him to be the ultimate, consummate soldier and by force of will do the same for the cadets in his charge.
Beyond the racial story, Airmen is pretty much standard war movie fare with good messages in terms of the men maturing, coming to grips with their fears and bonding as a team. That additional element, however, provides an especially poignant perspective that I think is moving, inspiring and educational for viewers of any color. The discipline and common cause the men demonstrated and the understanding that this was something bigger than themselves are important takeaways.
Points to Ponder:
Questions to Ask:
Great quotes:
“Cadet (spoiler) just taught you men the most important lesson here at Tuskegee. If you don’t believe in God, you better find yourself a damn good substitute.”
“It’s your privilege to live in the air. It is your destiny to die by fire.”
About Fundamentals in Film: this series began as a class I taught to junior high and high school boys as a way to use the entertainment media to explore concepts of honor, honesty, duty and accountability. The movies were selected to demonstrate these themes and as a contrast to television that typically either portrays men as Homer Simpsons or professional wrestlers, with little in between those extremes. I wrote questions and points to ponder for each movie to stimulate discussion and to get the boys to articulate their thoughts and reactions to each movie. I offer this series here on this blog for the benefit of parents or others looking for a fun but challenging way to reinforce these concepts in their own families or groups. As the list of films grows each week, feel free to use these guides and to mix and match movies according to your interests or those of your group. I’m also always open to suggestions for other movies that can be added to the series.
I’m working on a couple of longer posts on weightier topics, but couldn’t resist weighing in on Lileks’ old logo nostalgia that Ben picked up on. It got me to thinking about some of the signs and logos I saw growing up in Indiana and Missouri. It can be kind of hard to pull these out of the dusty trunk of boyhood memories because the advertising signs were so ubiquitous as to fade almost into wallpaper — and I can’t remember any of the wallpaper we may or may not have had when I was a youth except for the horrible red, flocked stuff on the walls of one house we moved into.
The easiest thing to remember are oil company logos. My grandfather had worked for Shell Oil and my father owned a Shell service station, so we saw that logo in our sleep, and recognized the competition:
 |
 |
Loyal as I was, I still had to admit that the Sinclair dinosaur was pretty cool:
When my dad came home from work he like to have a beer. Wiedemann’s (“It’s Registered!”) was a favorite, but I also remember the old Falstaff logo.
 |
 |
When we moved to Missouri Dad liked to drink a now defunct regional brew: Stag. That reminds me of another obscure Missouri beer that is no longer with us, Griesedieck Brothers. (Yes, the correct pronunciation was about the most unappealing you can imagine, which may be one reason it’s no longer around. A fun slogan, however, would have been, “Reach for another!” and just think of the product placement opportunities with Brokeback Mountain.)
 |
 |
If we went out to eat when we still lived in Indiana it was most likely to Burger Chef, an erstwhile competitor of McDonalds, or to a nearby Big Boy. (Whoa, strange flashback. I can remember being at the Big Boy one time when my father tried to explain to me why we were in Viet Nam.)
 |
 |
When I was in high school I would often meet my friends at the local Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlor, where if you ordered “The Zoo” (an exotic concoction featuring about 3 pounds of ice cream) the staff would flash lights, blow sirens and race your dessert around the restaurant on a special stretcher in a way that would have made Pannekoeken waitresses seem bashful.
Now that we’ve got some logos out of the way, anyone up for a game of name that jingle?
“March is twelve feet of drywall between you and spring; start chewing.”
James Lileks
I got into a bit of a slapfight over the weekend in the Comments string on Jay Reding’s post on South Dakota’s efforts to ban abortion. I say “slapfight” not in the mocking “girlie-man” sense but as in describing something that generates a flurry of blows doing little damage — in this case damage to either opponent’s beliefs.
Jay, a conservative and one of my favorite blogs, thinks the move by the SD legislature (crafted as much to force a hearing by the SCOTUS as it is on abortion itself) is unwise and focused on the wrong venue, stating “The real battlefield on this issue should be the hearts and minds of the American people, not the courtroom.”
I agreed with him on that, but stated that in my opinion SD’s initiative was ultimately aimed at doing just that: returning the matter to the states to decide instead of leaving it to nine (or just five) people to decide for the nation as a whole and even giving the people the option to change their minds over time. (It has also occurred to me that having the issue contested in as many as 50 venues instead of just one could have an interesting impact on the way money is poured into the issue on both sides).
Predictably I took some shots from other commenters, one who suggested that SD would be overrun with unwanted children overtaxing the state’s resources. Since abortion is already restricted to one clinic in the state I didn’t think a surge was likely. Others used somewhat extreme examples to try and demonstrate the iniquity of SD’s actions. Extreme arguments are not to be discounted, as Kevin noted with this John Stuart Mill quote last week, “Strange it is, that men should admit the validity of the arguments for free discussion, but object to their being ‘pushed to an extreme’; not seeing that unless the reasons are good for an extreme case, they are not good for any case.” One person used the example of a pregnant rape victim being forced to carry the baby to term. (My response: “Ah, so that’s where the idea that two wrongs make a ‘right’ comes from.” Incoming!) Another indicated that abortion should remain available because sometimes birth control fails, or you want a baby and then decide that you don’t, or you make a mistake, or sometimes you don’t want to be pregnant.
Does a ban on abortion make sense in extreme cases? My reaction is let’s take it to the extreme in the other direction as well. Of all the examples – rape, health, changed circumstances, fear, inconvenience, whatever – which of these is the fault of the baby and which justifies that the baby die? From what I’ve experienced in my own life and as a result of the neonatal and perinatal developments I’ve seen in my day job, I can come to no other conclusion but that this is human life we’re talking about no matter how abstract you try to make it. I’ve seen the pictures that today’s 4D imaging technology provide of embryos and through the different stages of development. I know the first-hand accounts of how hard severely premature and/or handicapped babies fight to live after they’re born. Is there really a fate worse than death?
I know we live in an imperfect world that offers imperfect solutions. In complex issues where I might even have conflicting opinions about different aspects of the argument I try to get to what the fundamental issue and irrevocable action are and choose accordingly. There are arguments on both sides that are of varying logical quality and appeal and the “discussion” often degenerates into gross caricatures and generalizations.
I hope I’m not that “slap-happy”. Perhaps the timing is wrong in South Dakota, but maybe things happen in the right time and season no matter what it looks like. I just know that I’m rooting for the future voters – whether they’re already alive or yet to be born.
Update:
*snrkk*, *heh*, *mmmph*. (Must.Not.Laugh.) HAW!
So, mom, how is that new 300 working out?
Related link: Democrats say, “Your Mommy…”
by the Mall Diva
The beauty school that I went to was supposedly haunted. The story that I heard was that it actually used to be a morgue, and my instructors had occasionally had ‘creepy experiences’. The building was pretty old, the beauty school had been there for about 30 years. The upstairs was used for the offices, the classroom, and the lunchroom.
Anyway, one time, just after my class had learned how to foil, my friend Renae and I were upstairs in the classroom practicing with one of the mannequin heads (of which there was a closet-full, talk about freaky).
We were the only ones up there, and we were foiling and talking, but I kept hearing this noise — kind of a soft pounding.
I asked Renae if she heard it, and we listened. We heard it again.
We were a little freaked out, we both knew the stories. I told her that maybe it was a pipe or something.
We decided that it was coming from the closet full of heads.
Of course I was the one that had to go and see.
I walked over to the closet and started to pull open the door, meanwhile I kept hearing the pounding, and was that scratching?
I hadn’t gotten the door all the open when out popped my friend Pearl, and Renae and I both screamed as Pearl laughed at us. We started laughing, too.
Then we heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and we told Pearl to hurry and get back in the closet, so she did.
Into the classroom walked my good friend, Kerry. We all talked for a while, and Renae and I told her that we kept hearing this pounding noise and we didn’t know what it was. She was getting kind of weirded out when all of a sudden a mannequin head came flying out of the closet!
She screamed and ran out of the room and down the stairs while Pearl, Renae and I yucked it up. When we went downstairs, we had some ‘splainin’ to do, but the girls thought it was pretty funny, and Kerry forgave us.
