Method Umpires

Method-actors can be very annoying, especially to the other members of a movie crew, or even the other actors. You don’t matter, Laurence Olivier. You don’t matter sound-guy. You don’t matter director. I must commune with my inner-self, draw on my child-hood memories and experiences, and connect my personal emotional life to the artistic representation of this character’s inner life. Stand back and wait. I’ll let you know when I’m ready. You philistines really have no business deciding when I need to get in front of a camera.

Angel Hernandez had the opportunity to review High Definition footage of a double off the wall Wednesday, May 8th, in a game between Oakland and Cleveland. It was quickly evident to millions of viewers that the ball was not a double: it struck a pipe railing above the yellow stripe that demarcates the field of play, therefore it was a home run. Hernandez however, for reasons that no one has been able to explain, called it a double.

Hernandez is a method umpire. After the game, he prepared for his role as defender of the ineffable perfection of umpires by drawing upon his arrogant inner ego and connecting it with his artistic representation of immutable authority: I am the umpire. I am never wrong. When the media asked him about the call, he refused to allow anyone to record his answer. Then he refused to provide an answer. He was so deep into his role, that his other personality, that of a rational human being, had been completely submerged by the time the media had tucked away their microphones.

By the Way

David Ortiz, at 37, is hitting better than last year or the year before.

Honest– it’s the winter conditioning program. Really.

Cheating

So why is it that Lance Armstrong is vilified for cheating at cycling but the news that Beyonce lip-synched at the inauguration provokes nothing more than a shrug?

Lance Armstrong used blood-doping and drugs to make it seem like he was a better cyclist than he really was. Beyonce used pre-recorded vocals to make her sound like a better singer than she really was
Lance Armstrong is probably not as good a cyclist as he looked. Beyonce is not as good a singer as she sounded. At least, not live. “Most people don’t care”. Okay, then let’s not keep a secret any more. Tell us before hand that you are not really going to sing. Tell us before-hand that you are going to dope. We’ll let you know if we want to watch.
Everybody does it. I just want a level playing field. You can’t expect me to sing and dance at the same time
Lance Armstrong not cheating is even more boring than Lance Armstrong cheating. He really doesn’t have any personality apart from his athleticism. A lot of elite athletes are like that. They have spent their entire lives consumed with refining their athletic skills. They don’t have a minute for politics or religion or literature or activism or charity. (The charities are almost always vanity projects handled by staff). That’s why the best commentators in sports are never the elite athletes (like Armstrong, or Gretzky, or Carl Crawford, or Lindsey Vonn, or Roberto Alomar, and so on). The journeyman players are always more interesting. Beyonce has never sung anything really interesting anyway. She is a diva, just as Lance Armstrong is a diva: it’s all about me. Look at me sing. Did you see it? Look at me! I’m a star.

The Effete Olympics

I have not been a fan of the Olympics for many years, though I love a good sporting contest, and have to admit to being a fan of the Blue Jays.

When the Summer Olympics are in this hemisphere, they are usually in the U.S., and the jingoism of the home side is hard to take. When they are in Europe or Asia, there is tape delay, which results in this bizarre parade of edited events. Obviously, the networks believe that most people do not have the patience to actually watch a sporting event from beginning to end if it has already ended– with all the little delays and formalities and suspense– so they package everything into a facile narrative without much colour or real suspense.

Here’s the winner. Now an interview with her parents who have, with the assistance of a consultant, prepared a “narrative” to sell you about this athlete, which will then be packaged and resold by Nike and Gatorade.

NBC, by the way, cut away from the portion of the opening ceremonies that honored the victims of Britain’s own 9/11, the subway bombings, because, rightly or not, they didn’t think American audiences would care. This is either a ringing condemnation of Americans or of NBC or both. It was an emblematic decision, a defining moment of gracelessness, ignorance, and narcissism.

The CTV commentators at the rowing and gymnastics are appalling. There is not even the slightest pretense of anything other than a bellicose ranting for the home side. And all rather gay, to be truthful. They all talk like nagging, proud, invested parents, always referring to the athletes by their first names, and offering unsolicited advice about how to compete– as if, after training for fifteen years, there was something their coaches forgot. You really need to get a life of your own.

Why are the empty seats so offensive? Because everyone knows how the Olympics works. City officials, other government officials, politicians, washed-up athletes, and various other parasites pick your pockets to pay for this extravaganza and then reward themselves with the choicest seats: the empty seats that I’m looking at right now are in the front row of the soccer stadium where Canada is playing Great Britain. Lovely. They didn’t even bother to show up– there will be lots and lots more freebies to indulge in later.

There is a compelling drama in every really great sports narrative but not necessarily a good narrative in every drama.   No matter– the broadcasters will invent one where none exists: the athlete overcoming tremendous odds with hard work and determination (they never credit talent because you can’t buy or sell talent), the self-sacrificing parents (when most of them appear to inordinately invested in their children– literally and emotionally), the shock of failure, the bullshit of Kerri Strug or the inelegant thunky bullying impostiture of Mary Lou Retton.

After a Lot of Counselling…

In response to why his testimony Wednesday included more details, the man said that a counselor he has recently been seeing has helped him recall more. “That doorway that had been closed has since been opened,” the man said in a confident voice. “Through a lot of counseling, I’ve been able to remember a lot more. NY Times, 2012-06-13

Without commenting on the trial itself, or Sandusky, I am outraged that the judge allowed this witness to give testimony that was adduced through “a lot of counseling”.

Is this judge even aware of recent history? Of the 1980’s Satanic Ritual Abuse scare? Of the McMartin Daycare case?

Nobody “recalls” more memory. However, with the careless or willful encouragement of therapists, people can construct memories. Especially when a lawyer and a potential civil case is involved.

Why didn’t the judge immediately cut off the witness and warn him– and all participants in the trial– that they may only give accounts of actual memories– not constructed memory facilitated by the suggestive assistance of a therapist who may or may not even be qualified, and who certainly cannot be warranted to have never offered the witness suggestive or manipulative advice.

There is enough evidence against Sandusky without this tainted testimony. Get rid of it.

[Added 2012-June 27] Apparently, Sandusky’s adopted son is now also alleging recovered memories of abuse– also with the prompting of a therapist.

Whatever Sandusky did or did not do should be weighed only by the testimony of witnesses who have real memories of the experience. Those recovered memories through therapy should be barred from testifying.

Perhaps that is why Sandusky’s adopted son did not testify.

NY Times Story

 

Derek Jeter’s Brand New Shiny Swing

“God, I hope I wear this jersey forever.” Derek Jeter

I almost wish it hadn’t been said. But then, I’ve never been a big fan of Derek Jeter anyway.

Jeter was a very good hitter for a shortstop– but then, he shouldn’t really have been shortstop. It is well known in informed baseball circles that Jeter’s range has been seriously diminished for years. He really should have moved to 3rd base by now. You can’t really move him to the outfield. He doesn’t make many errors– if he gets to the ball– but the Yankees are taking a hit on defense to keep him on the team. In the position to which he is accustomed.

Anyway, this is what is said: Jeter has been working with Yankees hitting coach Kevin Long to adjust his stride.

I am skeptical. I am skeptical that, at 37, a player can discover a hitherto unknown (to him) technique that will allow him to improve as a hitter. At the same time, I am very skeptical that a player with Jeter’s reputation would cheat. At the same time, I am skeptical that a player like Jeter would be happy fading into the limelight after such a celebrated career. Look at Andy Pettite.

I am skeptical that baseball incorporated has really made it all that difficult for players to cheat. Baseball incorporated benefits from records and milestones and the attraction of even washed-up stars like Derek Jeter. And young stars like Ryan Braun. And I fervently wish that those who wish to give Ryan Braun the benefit of the doubt on his positive test for performance enhancing drugs be put in charge of our criminal justice system to see if we can’t reduce the rate of spurious convictions.

I don’t know what to make of it all. Jeter was clearly washed up in 2010, and last year, and then made a dramatic improvement in September, and he has continued to demonstrate this radical improvement in April 2012. He is hitting up a storm. At 37, he is top of the charts, again. At least, in terms of offense. The Yankees won’t be able to sit him down now.

As a Blue Jays fan, I’m delighted.


Did you think that the very public, loud MLB commitment to drug testing has made it unlikely someone like Jeter would cheat? The 2008 #1 draft pick, Tim Beckham (Tampa Bay) has just been suspended 50 games for his second violation. There have been at least 37 other suspensions this year for doping violations in the minor leagues.

If a #1 pick was doing it, what is the likelihood #179 was doing it? Or #400? Or an aging superstar with declining skills?

Did you ever think about how funny it is that players all wear uniforms and sit in the dugout chewing in sunflower seeds between innings? Really, given their economic power, they should be driven out to their positions by chauffeurs in gold-plated golf-carts. But then, how would that make baseball look, as a sport?

My Rights Your Wrongs

My rights are NOT infringed if I lose the ability to tell you what to do. My rights are infringed when you deprive me of the right to make the choices I want to make. Does that make sense? Not to Republicans. They would have you believe that when two men or two women marry each other, they are somehow deprived of a “right”. That “right”, it turns out, is their “right” to boss you around.

When the Catholic bishops whine about the state intruding on their liberties and freedoms it turns out that the state hasn’t intruded on any liberty or freedom at all.

Can they still worship? Yes. Can they still gather to carry out their beliefs? Yes. Can they choose to not use birth control and have 13 babies in twelve years? Absolutely. Nobody is making them use birth control or have abortions or marry a gay partner. Nobody at all.

So what’s this “liberty” they are whining about? It’s the liberty to prevent you from using birth control, if you happen to work at one of their hospitals or universities.


What is “freedom of speech”?

Once again, the hysterical right-wing flag-waving shrieking patriots have let us all down. They should be out there right carrying posters and waving flags and shouting something like “Stop Oppressing Ozzie Guillen”. But, like all raging hypocrites, they only want this liberty for themselves. Guillen had the audacity to actually have an honest opinion. His sin is that it was different from the opinions held by Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity or Michelle Bachmann.

Hoosiers Hokum

Firstly, let me acknowledge that most people don’t give a damn whether an inspirational story they liked is actually true or mostly bullshit. Personally, I don’t see anything inspirational about stories that have to lie to you to convince you that the inspirational behavior actually results in success.

In the case of “Hoosiers”, we’re supposed to be inspired by the example of the 1954 Milan basketball team: if you really work hard and show determination and try your best you can overcome incredible odds and win championship basketball games.

PBS ran the movie tonight, uninterrupted by commercials or facts. Now, there are one or two facts. The school upon which the story is based, Milan, actually did shock a much larger school by winning the state championship in 1954. And they did win the final game in the last few seconds.

Most of the other stuff in “Hoosiers” did not happen in real life.

  • they won all of the games leading up to the final by lopsided scores, sometimes in double digits, not with last second comebacks.
  • the real coach didn’t work them particularly hard: he liked to just play with them at practices; no big inspirational speeches either. In fact, these scenes look a bit cheesy in the movie.
  • the team didn’t have six players, they had ten.
  • the coach was 26 and married, not 40-something like Gene Hackman, looking for redemption, and looking silly hitting on Barbara Hershey.
  • the team manager did not come into a game and drop two “granny shots” in the last minute for a stunning victory– oh please.
  • Milan had been to the quarter finals the year before, so the whole season was not quite as shocking as the film made it seem. The movie didn’t show that. Why not? Every ask yourself, why not? Because that would indicate that what the Milan team had was talent and skill, already. The hard work and determination helped, but it’s not quite as inspirational if you know that they were born with it.
  • and I repeat: the last six or seven games were not close: not a single last minute victory among them.
  • one of the teams Milan beat was Montezuma High which had an enrollment of 79! Who was the underdog? Even so, Milan used the “cat and mouse” or chicken-shit strategy (see below) against them in the fourth quarter. Excuse me? Against a team with about half your enrollment? What is inspiring about that?
  • the Dennis Hopper character did not exist
  • it was not the first time Milan had played in the Butler Fieldhouse, so they were not likely to be intimidated by the large venue as they are depicted in the movie, with Gene Hackman melodramatically showing them that the court was exactly the same size as their home court, and the hoops were exactly the same height.

Now, I guess most basketball fans don’t have a problem with the strategy of getting close or ahead of your opponent and then dragging the ball for four minutes. I’m not exaggerating: in the final game, Milan was trailing Muncie at 28-26 and their star player, Bobby Plump, held the ball for four minutes before taking a shot. Coach Marvin Wood, in fact, admitted that he thought they would lose if they simply played basketball against Muncie. He didn’t think they could hang on. He didn’t think, in other words, that there was anything particularly inspiring going on out there on the floor.

So he had his team hang on to the ball. Just stand there, holding it. Then he had Plump take a shot… which he missed. Brilliant strategy!

So Muncie, now in possession and leading 28 to 26, did not go the chicken-shit route. They played the game like you are supposed to, like athletes with class and integrity.

They did the honorable thing.   Was there ever a more monumental fuck you to the idea of integrity and honor in sports than the decision to erase this fact from the story?

For that, they are treated as the villains in this story.

And they shot. And they missed.

Milan regained possession and hung onto the ball again until Plump was fouled. He sank both shots to tie the game. Muncie, of course, took possession.

And then, inexplicably, miraculously, Muncie gave the ball away. They ridiculously gave the ball away with two minutes left. They handed it to Milan. Milan then killed off the clock and scored and the game was over.

That’s inspirational?

It’s exciting and dramatic, like the a baseball through the legs of the first baseman, but it wasn’t the particularly brilliant play of Milan that won the game for them: they actually lost the game, in terms of strategy and play. They won it back on sheer preposterous luck, a gift from Muncie, who had the game in their hands.

The strangest thing of all, to me, is that what actually happened is a far more compelling story than the Hollywood version– it gets a bit tiresome watching all the boring speeches and the last second come-backs. Bit what really happened had drama!


I grant you that “Hoosiers” tells you up front that it is a fictionalization and does not claim to tell the accurate story of the 1954 Milan.

That’s in the details and they understand perfectly that most of the audience will fixate on the “true story” part of the tagline and believe that the story told in the film is “reasonably” accurate.

I don’t blame the movie makers for the fact that audiences routinely embrace these kinds of distortions and dishonesties.


Other Hollywood True Stories and Lies

Partisans of the movie will tell you that they had to fictionalize the movie because that’s just how they do it and otherwise it wouldn’t be a good movie.

Of course they do.  That’s not the issue.  The issue is when they change facts that are absolutely germane to the appeal of the story, like when they make the people who captured the Enigma machine in World War II American instead of British, to cater to the vanity of American audiences, or when they show Nash’s wife being loyal and still married to him at the time of his Nobel Prize so they can have her shedding tears in the audience.

It amazes me that anyone accepts this logic. Nothing is more interesting than honesty, and the the only reason the film is at all suspenseful is because of an infinite supply of self-delusion.

Kicked Out of Ballet School

If you are a male hockey player and you invest a huge chunk of your life in the pursuit of a career as a professional hockey player and you reach a fairly high level– say, Junior A– and then one year you don’t make the team, how would you describe what happened? I think you probably say you had been cut. You couldn’t make the team. You couldn’t keep up.

I just heard the author of “Various Positions”, Martha Schabas, describe how the same thing happened to her when she was around 15, and a student at the National Ballet School of Canada. I thought it was interesting that she didn’t use the word “cut”. She said she was “kicked out”.

Call me sexist if you like: I don’t think a male would use that term to describe what has happened when you are no longer good enough to make the team. That’s the phrase you might use if you wanted to indicate that you had broken a rule, or had a fight with an assistant coach, or failed a drug test or something: you got kicked out. If you were removed from the team because you weren’t good enough, however, you were just “cut”.

For the record, I don’t believe all girls would use that phrase either.

“Kicked out” implies that you were part of a group, the in-crowd, an association of like-minded individuals with a mutual self-interest. And then, outrageously, you were “kicked out”. Excluded. Unjustly deprived of membership.

Incidentally, Martha Schabas’ book, “Various Positions”, is about “Georgia”, a 14-year-old ballet dancer who lusts for and seeks sexual relationships with adult men. Without, apparently, the disapproval of the writer/narrator.

A number of reviewers on Goodreads complained about that. But I suppose she could argue she is just describing reality, and the reviewers are being politically correct.

The title, by the way, obviously alludes to a Leonard Cohen album by the same title.


The coach of Canada’s national women’s hockey team, Shannon Miller, once cancelled the team Christmas Party because she didn’t like their attitude during or after a loss to the Americans.

I will never understand why the players didn’t simply announce that they would have the party without Shannon Miller. What would she do? Call the police?

Kick them off the team?

Well, maybe. Shannon Miller would have cut the ring-leaders from the team. If you would have asked her if that was fair, I don’t think she would have been troubled by the issue at all: they were disloyal. Membership on the team is a favor bestowed by me. That’s enough.

I frankly don’t believe it’s likely that a very good player would make the team if she did not at least pretend to hold the coach in high regard.

The Zambian National Soccer Team and Perceptions of Athletic Supremacy

In 1994, the entire Zambian National Soccer team– save for one player– was lost when a military plane carrying them to a tournament crashed into the ocean. These were the players who were believed to be the best starting 11 in the nation.

Given the reverence with which superstars are treated around the world, you would think that the Zambian national team, now comprised almost entirely of second place substitutes, would fail miserably. Instead, they proceeded to make it all the way to the final of the African Cup of Nations. They lost to Nigeria, 2-1, in the championship game.

What this means is not that Zambia had remarkably able second-stringers. It means our perception of “superstars” is way off the mark. I believe that, far from being a fluke, the performance of the second-stringers was probably an accurate representation of the actual difference in skill sets between world famous athletes and the athletes no one has ever heard of who labour in their shadows. That is because superstardom is less a function of real achievements than it is of real achievements and insanely obsessive media coverage which wildly inflates the public’s perception of an athlete’s real worth.

The leading scorer in any sport receives boatloads of publicity and exposure.  The second place man is almost unknown, even though he ranks just behind the famous leading scorer.

The second level of players, the ones who wait on the sidelines for someone in the first string to be injured or retired, are not substantially inferior to the top tier of players they replace. Quite often, they are better, because many of the first-stringers have passed their prime and are coasting on their reputations.

So where would you rank Derek Jeter in terms of shortstops in the American League last year?

Boogaard Boogie

After Derek Boogaard died, from a combination of prescription pills and alcohol, it appears, the Minnesota Wild held a tribute to their former enforcer showing video clips from his career, including all three goals that he scored over seven years. It showed him interacting with fans and children, checking opponents hard, skating, shooting.

The tribute video–five minutes long– didn’t show a single fight.

Didn’t Don Cherry have a say in the choice of clips to show? In the context of what happened to Bob Probert Rick Rypien, Derek Boogaard and Wade Belak, Cherry’s comments earlier this season are obscene.

It has become more and more evident with research that the brain damage suffered by many NHL “enforcers” is not the accidental result of the occasional bad hit: it is endemic to the role itself, to the battering that all enforcers endure on a regular basis. It is not a matter of if but when brain damage occurs, and once it occurs it spreads, and once it spreads it cannot be stopped or rescinded. It clots the brain cells, disconnects synapses, tears at the very fabric of the tissue. It is an enormous price to pay for the fans who sit behind the glass happily jumping and waving and hooting at the destruction of a man’s personality.

Hockey at its best is the best sport: nothing else has the sustained thrust and counter-attack, intensity, elegance, or flow of an intense contest between two well-matched teams. No other sport has faster breaks, more dramatic shifts of momentum, more sheer grace than hockey when it is at its best.

Why the league would choose to sell it on the basis of grown men battering each other’s faces into oblivion is beyond all sensibility.


In my opinion, shoot-outs are pretty boring. It makes hockey more like football: let’s all just stand around and stand around and stand around– oh wait! Somebody…. never mind. Let’s stand around some more…