The unusual (to say the least), screwy, fealty-unto-television 2008 World Series ended last night -- for real -- and the Philadelphia Phillies emerged victorious over the Tampa Bay Rays (who should nonetheless hold their heads high, as they delivered a smashing season which was great, great fun to observe).
So... Phillies Phans... this message is for you.
Do you know what to do in your new world?
I'm old enough to remember the 1980 championship, and while that's two generations ago in terms of baseball fandom (and more than a lifetime for many phans), I could never feel that bad for the Phils. Not even 30 years? Please, CMAFR. But I accept that the city entire had been bereft of a champion from any corner, which eventually gets tiresome.
Well, there ya go, you got one. Welcome to your new world, and it comes with New Rules. Do you know these? Fans of a newly crowned champion have different, in some ways greater, responsibilities. Follow:
1. You gain bragging rights, but have forfeited bitching & moaning rights. Bragging rights tend to last but one year; B&M rights last for years, decades, even (in one high-profile case) a century or more. You get probably only the one year to brag, so grab it with both hands (and lungs), soak it up, revel in it. When the Phils get eliminated in 2009, you do not regain B&M rights. Those are put on hold for at least ten years. Got that? NO bitching & moaning! (Put another way, demonstrate a higher standard than Yankees fans do, who are perennial B&Mers, and have been on the job since the last title way back in, gosh, 2000. Eight years deprived, oh woe, the agony, the suffering. They boast of the team holding a full 26 titles*, but that is merely a defensive posture, cold comfort against their brief standing drought, isn't it? Honestly, Yankees fans need forty years in the metaphoric desert. Be better than Yankees fans. This isn't asking for so much, really.)
(* The next time a Yankees fan bellows "26!" in your face, ask him or her to, right then, list all 26 championship years. If they get more than five from earlier than 1977, that's probably a real Yankees fan and not some 1990s bandwagoner.)
2. Your "curse" (1987? A building too tall? Please!) is gone. Toast. History. Pushin' up the daisies. Broken. Pinin' for the fjords. GONE! It is an ex-curse. This is non-negotiable. You can remember the curse, recall it (even fondly), think back and laugh -- but you cannot ever again cite it in real time as an excuse for ineptitude, incompetence, misfortune, or on-field failure. Curse broken, all done. Devise a new mythology if the need arises, but leave poor Wm. Penn alone forevermore. If the Phillies don't win again for another two generations, or the Eagles or Sixers or Flyers continue to flail and fail and suck -- it is because they DO suck. No curse. It is gone, and please, do let it go. (Speaking as a Red Sox fan of long standing, let me add that, while an active curse is mildly stupid fun, and marketable, remembering the championship that broke it is far more satisfying.)
3. Think kindly about sharing the wealth. Be magnanimous to fen of those teams still paddling through the darkness, for longer than you did. Those 28 years were not that bad in comparison; there were even two other World Series in the interim. So; memorize this list, teams that have been trophy-bereft for longer (some much longer) than the Phils, and cheer on their efforts as a matter of fellow-fan noblesse obligé. Even if it is a rival team, reach deeper and think well of them when their chances come around. (This does not mean to consider rooting against your Phillies when they are head-to-head. It's a goodwill alliance outreach, not a call for treason.)
Team -- championship drought (years)
Pittsburgh Pirates -- 29.
Seattle Mariners -- 32 (never won, never reached World Series).
Washington Nationals -- 40 (never won, never reached World Series).
San Diego Padres -- 40.
Milwaukee Brewers -- 40.
Houston Astros -- 47.
Texas Rangers -- 48 (never won, never reached World Series).
San Francisco Giants -- 54 (and never in SF).
Cleveland Indians -- 60.
Chicago Cubs -- yep, you know it -- 100, a full century. Ouch.
Don't pity; encourage.
The sun rises today on a world for you only slightly different but in such a significant way. Enjoy the dream fulfilled, the glory, the memories, and use them for proud and noble deeds.
I miss baseball already.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
21st Century Robotics
Now in first grade, Amalie had a great assignment a few weeks ago -- build a robot, using recyclable materials. We try to do our part in recycling -- plastics (type 1 and 2, all that Austin collects at present, but this is supposed to expand to all types by the end of the year), glass, cans, paper and cardboard, even home electronics. There's always something each week over which to pick.
Amie was not especially enthused until I mentioned that she can build any type of robot. It need not be humanoid -- in fact, it could look like WALL·E, the star of this past summer's Pixar animated film. At that notion, the penny dropped, and Amalie was highly engaged to do the robot project.
Amie and Val rummaged our current recyclables and picked out several boxes, cardboard tubes, cans, pieces of plastic, and also some chunks of styrofoam (which we cannot recycle, alas). Val scrubbed everything clean, Amie made a conceptual sketch, and I bought some duct tape to lend that silvery-gray, robotic sheen to the construct. I then cobbled together most of the little robot, using two different cardboard tubes to let his head rotate. Amie and Val added the arms. (The picture below doesn't show the tank treads, which were built with soup and soda cans.)
We took it in to school on Friday, as requested, and the other kids were impressed with it (and immediately discovered that WALL·E's head could be removed -- fortunately without damage). All the robots were cute, but I think Amalie's WALL·E was the coolest.
Check it out:
Our home-built analogue.
Pixar's Hollywood superstar.
Amie was not especially enthused until I mentioned that she can build any type of robot. It need not be humanoid -- in fact, it could look like WALL·E, the star of this past summer's Pixar animated film. At that notion, the penny dropped, and Amalie was highly engaged to do the robot project.
Amie and Val rummaged our current recyclables and picked out several boxes, cardboard tubes, cans, pieces of plastic, and also some chunks of styrofoam (which we cannot recycle, alas). Val scrubbed everything clean, Amie made a conceptual sketch, and I bought some duct tape to lend that silvery-gray, robotic sheen to the construct. I then cobbled together most of the little robot, using two different cardboard tubes to let his head rotate. Amie and Val added the arms. (The picture below doesn't show the tank treads, which were built with soup and soda cans.)
We took it in to school on Friday, as requested, and the other kids were impressed with it (and immediately discovered that WALL·E's head could be removed -- fortunately without damage). All the robots were cute, but I think Amalie's WALL·E was the coolest.
Check it out:
Our home-built analogue.Pixar's Hollywood superstar.Haircut
Carson gets downright shaggy when he goes an extended period without a haircut. Thing is, he looks good with hair short or long, so we tend to dawdle between cuts. But we finally did take him in to get his ears lowered back in September. Check it out:
Before.
After.
He's gotten a bit longer since this cut, but still far from the "before" style. But, yeah, he'll likely get there again.
Before.After.He's gotten a bit longer since this cut, but still far from the "before" style. But, yeah, he'll likely get there again.
Closing The Backyard
Austin is known for its live music -- and while I'm not a huge fan of going out and partaking, it's nice to know there's plenty of choices.
One, The Backyard, was particularly excellent. Set on the outskirts of west Austin when it opened in 1992, it was -- is -- an open-air theater, nestled amongst the live oaks, with huge swaths of hill country as background. I've been there only a handful of times, including a great show by Bruce Hornsby and the Range.
But development has been encroaching, as it does, and the scenic hill country landscape around The Backyard is now shopping centers and parking lots. So, the owner decided to close it down and move on; he has plans for a new venue, this time with the surrounding landscape kept intact, but still isn't sure if that's the way to go.
Last night, 26-October, was the last show. Willie Nelson was the headliner, and among the opening acts was Kelly Willis' band, which includes Amalie's piano teacher, Mr. Sweeney. So Val wanted to take Amie. Tickets were not cheap ($80 general admission), but thanks to Craig's List I was able to find a pair for face value, and off they went.
The show officially began at 4:00 pm. Since the primary goal was to see the Willis band, Val and Amie didn't actually enter The Backyard until after 5:30... but they stayed, and stayed, and Amalie was still going strong. They found an uncrowded balcony, Amie took a late nap, Willie came on stage, and eventually, well, they were there at closing time. I was still awake (barely) when the ladies stumbled in the door around 1:30 am. Amie was hungry, but we were all down by 2:15, and we're letting her sleep in (and miss school) this morning. It was a cultural and social experience not easily replicated, and that was pretty valuable. And fun.
One, The Backyard, was particularly excellent. Set on the outskirts of west Austin when it opened in 1992, it was -- is -- an open-air theater, nestled amongst the live oaks, with huge swaths of hill country as background. I've been there only a handful of times, including a great show by Bruce Hornsby and the Range.
But development has been encroaching, as it does, and the scenic hill country landscape around The Backyard is now shopping centers and parking lots. So, the owner decided to close it down and move on; he has plans for a new venue, this time with the surrounding landscape kept intact, but still isn't sure if that's the way to go.
Last night, 26-October, was the last show. Willie Nelson was the headliner, and among the opening acts was Kelly Willis' band, which includes Amalie's piano teacher, Mr. Sweeney. So Val wanted to take Amie. Tickets were not cheap ($80 general admission), but thanks to Craig's List I was able to find a pair for face value, and off they went.
The show officially began at 4:00 pm. Since the primary goal was to see the Willis band, Val and Amie didn't actually enter The Backyard until after 5:30... but they stayed, and stayed, and Amalie was still going strong. They found an uncrowded balcony, Amie took a late nap, Willie came on stage, and eventually, well, they were there at closing time. I was still awake (barely) when the ladies stumbled in the door around 1:30 am. Amie was hungry, but we were all down by 2:15, and we're letting her sleep in (and miss school) this morning. It was a cultural and social experience not easily replicated, and that was pretty valuable. And fun.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
TV Star
Driving Amalie to school on Friday morning, she mentioned that she was going to be on television. This was news to me, and on rather short notice.
No, nothing on the networks. Her school does a live cast on Friday mornings, from the library to all classrooms, selected students reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, the Texas Pledge (which is almost the same text), and the school's crocodile theme song. I walked her to her room and checked with the teacher -- yes, Amie had been selected for this week's telecast, by being such a good and well-behaved student. I escorted her back to the library.
We filed in with a bunch of other students and two librarians or teachers, who were in charge of production. I decided to stay and watch. It took a minute or two to organize all the kids -- arrange by height, get the stragglers in position, separate the younger ones who were not concentrating. There were two or three other parents beside me, and as I glanced over I noted they had their cell phones out, ready to take pictures.
Foo. Well, I can do that, too -- I just never think of using the cellcam. Pulled it out, flipped it open, and took a few shots.
Friday's school ensemble, ready to recite.
Our young star-in-progress.
Later, I tried downloading it through the USB port, and either by design (intended to be proprietary) or incompetence, this effort became insane and perhaps impossible. I don't know whether to blame manufacturer Motorola (through which direct experience I can readily credit the "incompetence" theory) or service supplier Verizon, but trying to get the right software and drivers and sorting out the right configuration ended up wasting 3-4 hours and getting nowhere. I finally, simply emailed the pic off the phone to my netmail. Feh. Feh, braindead tech companies. You can do better, and have no excuses not to do so.
No, nothing on the networks. Her school does a live cast on Friday mornings, from the library to all classrooms, selected students reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, the Texas Pledge (which is almost the same text), and the school's crocodile theme song. I walked her to her room and checked with the teacher -- yes, Amie had been selected for this week's telecast, by being such a good and well-behaved student. I escorted her back to the library.
We filed in with a bunch of other students and two librarians or teachers, who were in charge of production. I decided to stay and watch. It took a minute or two to organize all the kids -- arrange by height, get the stragglers in position, separate the younger ones who were not concentrating. There were two or three other parents beside me, and as I glanced over I noted they had their cell phones out, ready to take pictures.
Foo. Well, I can do that, too -- I just never think of using the cellcam. Pulled it out, flipped it open, and took a few shots.
Friday's school ensemble, ready to recite.Our young star-in-progress.Later, I tried downloading it through the USB port, and either by design (intended to be proprietary) or incompetence, this effort became insane and perhaps impossible. I don't know whether to blame manufacturer Motorola (through which direct experience I can readily credit the "incompetence" theory) or service supplier Verizon, but trying to get the right software and drivers and sorting out the right configuration ended up wasting 3-4 hours and getting nowhere. I finally, simply emailed the pic off the phone to my netmail. Feh. Feh, braindead tech companies. You can do better, and have no excuses not to do so.
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