Thirty-eight million people—38,000,000—watched the first episode of Undercover Boss, a new CBS reality series that tries to humanize CEOs by placing them on the front lines of their companies to learn how everyday workers cope with the dogma that gets filtered down from the executive suite.
Thirty-eight million. It helped that Undercover Boss debuted after the Super Bowl, the most watched TV show ever. Thirty-eight million. I was not one of them.
I’m not into so-called reality shows. I’m no survivor, not a bachelor, have no need to lose a ton of weight, and am not from the Jersey Shore (sorry, Marianne, couldn’t resist).
There’s nothing wrong with a CEO wanting to gain a better understanding of his workers’ lot. But I question the long-term value of these exercises. Unless these “reality” shows are total whitewashes, the honest and alert CEOs will soon discover that many of their employees earn less than a living wage, toil far harder than the “suits” do for less money, and struggle to provide adequate shelter, proper health care, quality education and upward mobility for their families.
What are the bosses going to do? Immediately raise worker salaries? Improve benefits? Hardly realistic to expect during a time when efficiencies—that’s corporate speak for making workers do more for less—is the corporate mantra. Hardly realistic to expect even during times of economic success.
Retail and restaurant companies have a history of promoting from within, of naming CEOs who began in the stockroom or as hamburger flippers. Rare is the CEO who remembers the poverty of his (they’re mostly men, so forgive the gender bias of the prose) youth, how difficult it was to make ends meet on minimum wage or slightly higher salaries. They seem to relish their bootstrap provenance, in some honest but callous way believing that if they could rise from the challenge, any of their workers could as well, if they just applied themselves.
That’s why CEOs like Howard Schultz of Starbucks and Jim Sinegal of Costco are exceptions, leaders who made a commitment to provide health care benefits even to part-time staffers despite pressure from Wall Street, and other retailers, that their bottom lines would improve immediately if they implemented standard industry compensation practices.
Undercover Boss might mean well, but it’s a sugar-coated picture of reality. Rather than help their workers, CEOs willing to go on the show are usually looking for positive PR (http://adage.com/article?article_id=142119). For a more accurate portrait of life on the minimum wage “assembly line,” I again recommend to you Nickel and Dimed, On (Not) Getting By in America, by Barbara Ehrenreich (http://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2009/12/stories-of-times.html).
Escapist TV fare is okay, but not at the expense of the reality too many of our fellow citizens have to endure.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Baby, It's Cold Outside. Not
When Gilda and I woke up Sunday morning it was 26 degrees outside. When we stepped off the plane in Los Angeles around noon local time it was 75.
The forecast for LA this week is for temperatures doubling the expected highs for White Plains. Though LA has endured a fair share of precipitation recently, it’s the kind that rolls off your back, not slushes up your walkway. Mostly sunny skies are expected in Los Angeles this week; snow is expected again back east on Tuesday.
I shouldn’t get too cocky. Long range forecast for White Plains is for snow next week on the day we return and the day after. But today we’ve already luxuriated in no socks needed anymore weather, strolling in rolled up sleeves in a soft breeze. It’s delightful to have to wear a hat to guard against the sunshine and not to stay warm.
For the record—I removed my socks shortly after deplaning.
Ice Cold: So, do you think this winter’s been colder than normal in the NY metro area? I don’t think so, at least not according to my admittedly non-scientific but perceptive field study.
I keep two water bottles in my car. In years past, the water would freeze up, thaw out, refreeze throughout the winter. This year? Not one ice cube. Unless Poland Spring is adding anti-freeze to it water bottles, Mother Nature has not throttled us with a sustained cold blast.
Olympic Gold: I’m not into the Winter Olympics. Perhaps because I don’t ski, ice skate, snowboard and definitely don’t luge, I have a hard time relating to the daredevils of these sub-zero (centigrade) sports.
But I do marvel at Olympic accomplishments, especially from non-athletes.
Back in 1998, Nagano, Japan, hosted the Winter Games. As part of the coverage, The Washington Post’s Kevin Sullivan did a piece on how the upper crust endured life at the Olympics, going from party to party, all in the name of advancing world peace, mind you, at least according to Masato Mizuno, president of the Mizuno sporting goods corporation, whose company spent $16 million to be an official Olympic sponsor.
But Sullivan also reported on a more plebian approach to Olympic enjoyment, what he called the “Eric Plan.” I’ve reproduced the part of the article that describes my nephew’s exploits (for those wanting to read the full article, here’s the link: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/sports/longterm/olympics1998/nagano/articles/party17.htm):
For those without royal blood or imperial purses, there's always the Eric Plan.
Eric Forseter, 22, from Rockville, (MD), is spending a year bumming around Australia as he prepares for law school next year. He bought a cheap plane ticket from Sydney to Tokyo plus a Japanese rail pass, and made his way to Nagano with about $400 in his pocket.
Forseter found lodging at a hostel, where he spends about $30 a night to sleep on a tatami mat on the floor in a room with 10 strangers. He had to go out and buy a towel, and he's living on orange juice and croissants from the convenience store. He said his accommodations are relatively spacious, though, compared with the 15 or 20 George Washington University students crammed into another room.
On his first day in town, Forseter met another young man who had bummed two tickets to the high-profile Canada-Sweden men's hockey game from one of the players. They sat in great seats right behind the goal, then moved to seats directly behind the team benches. They collected a couple of stray pucks and even a broken stick from the Swedish team.
That night they rolled into the Pink Elephant bar and had beers with NHL stars Brett Hull and Jeremy Roenick, who play for the U.S. team. The next day, Forseter bagged tickets for the Finland-Russia hockey game. Scalpers wanted more than $400, but a nice man invited Forseter to sit with him for free. Turns out the man is the father of NHL star Teemu Selanne, who plays for Finland. Forseter sat at center ice and chatted with Pat LaFontaine of the U.S. men's hockey team and the parents of NHL'ers Pavel Bure and Chris Chelios, who were sitting nearby.
Sunday night, with somebody's extra ticket, Forseter saw figure skating, one of the Games' premier events, for $4 — the cost of a shuttle bus. In total, Forseter figures he's spent about $300 and had about $3,000 worth of fun.
"I'm on a roll," he said.
Eric’s parents are going to Vancouver later this week for some Olympic fun of their own. Doubtful their experience will be as eventful.
The forecast for LA this week is for temperatures doubling the expected highs for White Plains. Though LA has endured a fair share of precipitation recently, it’s the kind that rolls off your back, not slushes up your walkway. Mostly sunny skies are expected in Los Angeles this week; snow is expected again back east on Tuesday.
I shouldn’t get too cocky. Long range forecast for White Plains is for snow next week on the day we return and the day after. But today we’ve already luxuriated in no socks needed anymore weather, strolling in rolled up sleeves in a soft breeze. It’s delightful to have to wear a hat to guard against the sunshine and not to stay warm.
For the record—I removed my socks shortly after deplaning.
Ice Cold: So, do you think this winter’s been colder than normal in the NY metro area? I don’t think so, at least not according to my admittedly non-scientific but perceptive field study.
I keep two water bottles in my car. In years past, the water would freeze up, thaw out, refreeze throughout the winter. This year? Not one ice cube. Unless Poland Spring is adding anti-freeze to it water bottles, Mother Nature has not throttled us with a sustained cold blast.
Olympic Gold: I’m not into the Winter Olympics. Perhaps because I don’t ski, ice skate, snowboard and definitely don’t luge, I have a hard time relating to the daredevils of these sub-zero (centigrade) sports.
But I do marvel at Olympic accomplishments, especially from non-athletes.
Back in 1998, Nagano, Japan, hosted the Winter Games. As part of the coverage, The Washington Post’s Kevin Sullivan did a piece on how the upper crust endured life at the Olympics, going from party to party, all in the name of advancing world peace, mind you, at least according to Masato Mizuno, president of the Mizuno sporting goods corporation, whose company spent $16 million to be an official Olympic sponsor.
But Sullivan also reported on a more plebian approach to Olympic enjoyment, what he called the “Eric Plan.” I’ve reproduced the part of the article that describes my nephew’s exploits (for those wanting to read the full article, here’s the link: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/sports/longterm/olympics1998/nagano/articles/party17.htm):
For those without royal blood or imperial purses, there's always the Eric Plan.
Eric Forseter, 22, from Rockville, (MD), is spending a year bumming around Australia as he prepares for law school next year. He bought a cheap plane ticket from Sydney to Tokyo plus a Japanese rail pass, and made his way to Nagano with about $400 in his pocket.
Forseter found lodging at a hostel, where he spends about $30 a night to sleep on a tatami mat on the floor in a room with 10 strangers. He had to go out and buy a towel, and he's living on orange juice and croissants from the convenience store. He said his accommodations are relatively spacious, though, compared with the 15 or 20 George Washington University students crammed into another room.
On his first day in town, Forseter met another young man who had bummed two tickets to the high-profile Canada-Sweden men's hockey game from one of the players. They sat in great seats right behind the goal, then moved to seats directly behind the team benches. They collected a couple of stray pucks and even a broken stick from the Swedish team.
That night they rolled into the Pink Elephant bar and had beers with NHL stars Brett Hull and Jeremy Roenick, who play for the U.S. team. The next day, Forseter bagged tickets for the Finland-Russia hockey game. Scalpers wanted more than $400, but a nice man invited Forseter to sit with him for free. Turns out the man is the father of NHL star Teemu Selanne, who plays for Finland. Forseter sat at center ice and chatted with Pat LaFontaine of the U.S. men's hockey team and the parents of NHL'ers Pavel Bure and Chris Chelios, who were sitting nearby.
Sunday night, with somebody's extra ticket, Forseter saw figure skating, one of the Games' premier events, for $4 — the cost of a shuttle bus. In total, Forseter figures he's spent about $300 and had about $3,000 worth of fun.
"I'm on a roll," he said.
Eric’s parents are going to Vancouver later this week for some Olympic fun of their own. Doubtful their experience will be as eventful.
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Ultimate Serendipity
I’m a big believer in serendipity, what the dictionary defines as “an apparent aptitude for making discoveries accidentally.”
Let me illustrate.
My email inbox gets crammed with many retail industry newsletters, a carryover from my working days. Most of the time I just review the headlines, clicking deeper only when a story seems particularly unusual or about someone or something I have an interest in. One of my favorite newsletters is morningnewsbeat.com because it not only reports the news but also provides commentary from its knowledgeable and irreverent editor, Kevin Coupe. Still, it’s not every day that I read through his blog.
As I was looking at his story lineup today, I saw one listed as “RIP” (Rest in Peace) and was drawn to know which industry stalwart had passed on. Instead, what I found was this item:
“Fred Morrison died Tuesday at age 90. His contribution to the culture? Morrison invented the Frisbee.
Little known fact: Morrison hated the name “Frisbee,” which was given to his invention by the Wham-O Manufacturing Co. when it licensed what Morrison called the "Whirlo-Way" and "Pluto Platter” in 1957.”
Now, until a dozen years ago, to me a frisbee was just another piece of sports equipment that revealed a chink in my athletic armor ability. But when Dan was preparing to begin Tufts, he stunned (and disappointed) me by saying he would not try out for the soccer team (he had been the high school varsity team goalie); instead he wanted to play Ultimate Frisbee.
Consternation does not begin to explain my reaction. I thought playing with a frisbee was just recreation for the long-haired, or something to do with your dog, before taking a drag and soaring higher than the disc. I had no idea there was an actual “game” involving players, teams, rules and tournaments.
Gilda and I soon discovered the aura of Ultimate Frisbee. We watched Dan play in a tournament at Rutgers and became hooked. Since his freshman year Dan’s life has seemingly revolved around Ultimate Frisbee. As a sophomore, he became co-captain of the Tufts team. In his junior year, he helped lead Tufts’ return for the first time in 10 years to the the national championships where the top 16 college teams compete. The tournament took place in Boise, Idaho, with Gilda, Ellie and me there to cheer Dan and his teammates on.
I’d like to tell you the team won the national championship, but the truth is, they came in 11th. The Tufts women, on the other hand, came in 5th in the nation that year. One of the players on that team was Allison Hawthorne Mixter. It was at that tournament that Dan and Allison began their courtship. Their marriage in July 2006 had to be arranged around Dan’s frisbee schedule. After graduation, Dan joined a club frisbee team. He also coaches the Tufts team.
Two years ago Dan’s club team played for the national championship, losing a heartbreaker to a team they had beaten earlier in the tournament. This past October they came in third in the country. In July, Dan, accompanied by Allison and their son Finley, will travel to Prague to compete in the world championships.
Serendipity. I believe in it.
Let me illustrate.
My email inbox gets crammed with many retail industry newsletters, a carryover from my working days. Most of the time I just review the headlines, clicking deeper only when a story seems particularly unusual or about someone or something I have an interest in. One of my favorite newsletters is morningnewsbeat.com because it not only reports the news but also provides commentary from its knowledgeable and irreverent editor, Kevin Coupe. Still, it’s not every day that I read through his blog.
As I was looking at his story lineup today, I saw one listed as “RIP” (Rest in Peace) and was drawn to know which industry stalwart had passed on. Instead, what I found was this item:
“Fred Morrison died Tuesday at age 90. His contribution to the culture? Morrison invented the Frisbee.
Little known fact: Morrison hated the name “Frisbee,” which was given to his invention by the Wham-O Manufacturing Co. when it licensed what Morrison called the "Whirlo-Way" and "Pluto Platter” in 1957.”
Now, until a dozen years ago, to me a frisbee was just another piece of sports equipment that revealed a chink in my athletic armor ability. But when Dan was preparing to begin Tufts, he stunned (and disappointed) me by saying he would not try out for the soccer team (he had been the high school varsity team goalie); instead he wanted to play Ultimate Frisbee.
Consternation does not begin to explain my reaction. I thought playing with a frisbee was just recreation for the long-haired, or something to do with your dog, before taking a drag and soaring higher than the disc. I had no idea there was an actual “game” involving players, teams, rules and tournaments.
Gilda and I soon discovered the aura of Ultimate Frisbee. We watched Dan play in a tournament at Rutgers and became hooked. Since his freshman year Dan’s life has seemingly revolved around Ultimate Frisbee. As a sophomore, he became co-captain of the Tufts team. In his junior year, he helped lead Tufts’ return for the first time in 10 years to the the national championships where the top 16 college teams compete. The tournament took place in Boise, Idaho, with Gilda, Ellie and me there to cheer Dan and his teammates on.
I’d like to tell you the team won the national championship, but the truth is, they came in 11th. The Tufts women, on the other hand, came in 5th in the nation that year. One of the players on that team was Allison Hawthorne Mixter. It was at that tournament that Dan and Allison began their courtship. Their marriage in July 2006 had to be arranged around Dan’s frisbee schedule. After graduation, Dan joined a club frisbee team. He also coaches the Tufts team.
Two years ago Dan’s club team played for the national championship, losing a heartbreaker to a team they had beaten earlier in the tournament. This past October they came in third in the country. In July, Dan, accompanied by Allison and their son Finley, will travel to Prague to compete in the world championships.
Serendipity. I believe in it.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Snow Job
Snowbound.
Instead of being able to walk barefoot in the sand (which I really hate to do), I am half a foot deep in the Big Muddy, oops, I mean the Big Snowy (which I hate even more).
The storm of the year really wasn’t so bad here in White Plains, but it was enough to frighten Virgin America into canceling my flight out west this morning. The earliest I can get to Los Angeles is Sunday. Meantime, my trusted gas snowblower made pretty swift work of the heavy white stuff.
I bought the snowblower last winter after years of shoveling and arguing. The shoveling I did by myself. The arguing I did with Gilda. She wasn’t too keen on my replacing muscle power with engine power. You see, 20 years ago I gave my Toro power snow shovel to my brother and replaced it with a small electric snowblower. Big mistake. It not only lacked power, but the long electric cord also made clearing the snow difficult. I kept getting tangled up trying not to run over the cord. So I got rid of the electric snowblower, prompting Gilda to accuse me of being wasteful. She was right, of course, but I figured that after 20 years of rejecting my entreaties to buy a gas powered blower she would relent without too much risk to the marriage when the forecast called for a big storm last January. She wasn’t happy when she saw it, but after the first time I used it she came to accept its practicality.
Obtaining snow removal equipment 25 years ago this month got me in trouble at work for chastising, in print, a regional home center chain and its local store manager for their arrogance and disregard for customers. Rather than name the retailer involved, a retailer no longer in business, for good reason, but not wanting to repeat the mistake I made a quarter of a century ago, let me quickly relate the circumstances without naming names.
Before The Home Depot came to Westchester, one snowy Saturday afternoon in early February 1985, I picked out a power snow shovel at the home center store but was thwarted in my attempt to pay for it. The manager had let half his cashiers take a break, leaving patrons waiting 10 deep for service at three lines. When we complained, an off-duty Greenburgh policeman serving as a store security guard threatened to arrest us. I promptly dropped the shovel, went to a nearby Caldor and bought a similar model without hassle. I got my revenge through my March editorial. The retailer complained to our management. I ran an apology in May for singling out and criticizing the company for an incident in one store.
History proved my initial analysis to be correct. The chain was without merit, existing only in the absence of real competition. It went out of business shortly after The Home Depot arrived in the NY metro area.
Still, I should have been a little more restrained. We live today in a world of free-wheeling journalism, or what passes for journalism. Gossip TV shows. A radio station that promote its “daily sleeze” report. Blogs that deal in innuendo, slanted news. Cable news shows that are anything but fair and honest.
When you’re held accountable for what you put in print or say, you learn to appreciate the power of the press.
Instead of being able to walk barefoot in the sand (which I really hate to do), I am half a foot deep in the Big Muddy, oops, I mean the Big Snowy (which I hate even more).
The storm of the year really wasn’t so bad here in White Plains, but it was enough to frighten Virgin America into canceling my flight out west this morning. The earliest I can get to Los Angeles is Sunday. Meantime, my trusted gas snowblower made pretty swift work of the heavy white stuff.
I bought the snowblower last winter after years of shoveling and arguing. The shoveling I did by myself. The arguing I did with Gilda. She wasn’t too keen on my replacing muscle power with engine power. You see, 20 years ago I gave my Toro power snow shovel to my brother and replaced it with a small electric snowblower. Big mistake. It not only lacked power, but the long electric cord also made clearing the snow difficult. I kept getting tangled up trying not to run over the cord. So I got rid of the electric snowblower, prompting Gilda to accuse me of being wasteful. She was right, of course, but I figured that after 20 years of rejecting my entreaties to buy a gas powered blower she would relent without too much risk to the marriage when the forecast called for a big storm last January. She wasn’t happy when she saw it, but after the first time I used it she came to accept its practicality.
Obtaining snow removal equipment 25 years ago this month got me in trouble at work for chastising, in print, a regional home center chain and its local store manager for their arrogance and disregard for customers. Rather than name the retailer involved, a retailer no longer in business, for good reason, but not wanting to repeat the mistake I made a quarter of a century ago, let me quickly relate the circumstances without naming names.
Before The Home Depot came to Westchester, one snowy Saturday afternoon in early February 1985, I picked out a power snow shovel at the home center store but was thwarted in my attempt to pay for it. The manager had let half his cashiers take a break, leaving patrons waiting 10 deep for service at three lines. When we complained, an off-duty Greenburgh policeman serving as a store security guard threatened to arrest us. I promptly dropped the shovel, went to a nearby Caldor and bought a similar model without hassle. I got my revenge through my March editorial. The retailer complained to our management. I ran an apology in May for singling out and criticizing the company for an incident in one store.
History proved my initial analysis to be correct. The chain was without merit, existing only in the absence of real competition. It went out of business shortly after The Home Depot arrived in the NY metro area.
Still, I should have been a little more restrained. We live today in a world of free-wheeling journalism, or what passes for journalism. Gossip TV shows. A radio station that promote its “daily sleeze” report. Blogs that deal in innuendo, slanted news. Cable news shows that are anything but fair and honest.
When you’re held accountable for what you put in print or say, you learn to appreciate the power of the press.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Snow Emergency
The forecast calls for a major snowstorm in the NY metro area beginning tonight. It’s one day too soon for me, threatening to wreak havoc with a planned Wednesday morning trip to Los Angeles and my return to a no socks needed anymore environment.
Of course, a flight delay would be a small inconvenience compared to what my brother is going through after last week’s storm blew up the East Coast.
While not one flake made its way to White Plains, some 30 inches landed on his property in Rockville, Md., outside Washington, DC. Shortly after 11:30 Friday night, he lost power. When Bernie and wife Annette woke Saturday morning, they discovered 250,000 of their immediate neighbors shared their power shortage. The snow was too high for their snowblower to be effective. Their cul de sac street would be among the last to be plowed, they suspected, so they could not expect a private contractor to extricate them. They were isolated.
Somehow, one of their close friends about half a mile away was an island of power. They strapped on snowshoes and trundled over for the night. Sunday afternoon their house remained without power, though they managed to have their driveway plowed (the street remained unplowed). They came home to open faucets to prevent frozen pipes. Temperature hovered below 50 degrees inside the house. The evening forecast called for wind chills in the teens.
They arranged to stay at a Marriott Sunday night, but before they checked in they were alerted that it, too, had lost power. Instead they stayed at a different friend’s home.
On Monday they trekked back to their powerless home and started throwing out food. They loaded frozen meats on a plastic sledding disc, rigged up a harness, and mushed their way to the first friend’s house and freezer. Their son’s nearby townhouse regained power, so they stayed with him and his family Monday night.
Washington area forecast is for another foot of snow from the new storm. Forecast for power restoration, if it doesn’t happen by today, is Friday at the earliest.
Schadenfreude: Dictionaries define this German term as “enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others.” It partly explains why people relish celebrity gossip. During football season, I take comfort when the Giants lose if the Redskins, my brother's team, lose as well. But this is different. Though I’ve kidded him about his snow predicament, there is little joy in what he and a quarter of a million others in the Maryland suburbs alone are going through.
Of course, a flight delay would be a small inconvenience compared to what my brother is going through after last week’s storm blew up the East Coast.
While not one flake made its way to White Plains, some 30 inches landed on his property in Rockville, Md., outside Washington, DC. Shortly after 11:30 Friday night, he lost power. When Bernie and wife Annette woke Saturday morning, they discovered 250,000 of their immediate neighbors shared their power shortage. The snow was too high for their snowblower to be effective. Their cul de sac street would be among the last to be plowed, they suspected, so they could not expect a private contractor to extricate them. They were isolated.
Somehow, one of their close friends about half a mile away was an island of power. They strapped on snowshoes and trundled over for the night. Sunday afternoon their house remained without power, though they managed to have their driveway plowed (the street remained unplowed). They came home to open faucets to prevent frozen pipes. Temperature hovered below 50 degrees inside the house. The evening forecast called for wind chills in the teens.
They arranged to stay at a Marriott Sunday night, but before they checked in they were alerted that it, too, had lost power. Instead they stayed at a different friend’s home.
On Monday they trekked back to their powerless home and started throwing out food. They loaded frozen meats on a plastic sledding disc, rigged up a harness, and mushed their way to the first friend’s house and freezer. Their son’s nearby townhouse regained power, so they stayed with him and his family Monday night.
Washington area forecast is for another foot of snow from the new storm. Forecast for power restoration, if it doesn’t happen by today, is Friday at the earliest.
Schadenfreude: Dictionaries define this German term as “enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others.” It partly explains why people relish celebrity gossip. During football season, I take comfort when the Giants lose if the Redskins, my brother's team, lose as well. But this is different. Though I’ve kidded him about his snow predicament, there is little joy in what he and a quarter of a million others in the Maryland suburbs alone are going through.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Turning Point
What was the turning point of Super Bowl XLIV?
Was it the successful onside kick New Orleans executed at the beginning of the second half? Not in my opinion.
Was it the 73-yard touchdown interception by New Orleans’ Tracy Porter that sealed the victory? Nope.
Was it the missed field goal by Matt Stover of the Colts at the beginning of the fourth quarter when his team was leading 17-16? Not by a wide margin.
Was it the failure of the Colts to gain a first down at the end of the first half, thus giving the Saints another chance to kick a field goal, which they did? Close, but no cigar.
The turning point, in my humble analysis, came in the second quarter, with Indianapolis ahead 10-3 and seemingly driving at will through the Saints defense. They had scored the first two times they possessed the ball. On their third drive, their first in the second quarter, the Colts faced a third down and four yards to go from their 28-yard line. Peyton Manning arched a perfect pass to Pierre Garcon, hitting him in stride as he diagonally crossed the field at the Colts 45-yard line.
“If he catches this it’s a footrace around the corner,” said CBS analyst Phil Simms, meaning that it could have been another score for Indianapolis, or at least a sizable gain. “If he catches.” “Could have been.” Phrases that convey a missed opportunity, for Garcon, the Haitian hero of the AFC title game two weeks earlier, dropped the ball.
“That’s a momentum changer, perhaps,” said announcer Jim Nantz, as prescient a call as any I’ve heard.
The Colts were forced to punt, and though the Saints at first failed to score despite getting down to the Colts 1-yard line (they eventually kicked a field goal to end the first half down 10-6), the game’s momentum indeed had shifted. In the second half, the Saints had the ball four times, producing two touchdowns and field goal. The Colts had the ball four times. They scored one touchdown, but also gave up Porter’s TD interception.
From my turning point in the game, The Saints outscored the Colts 28-7.
Was it the successful onside kick New Orleans executed at the beginning of the second half? Not in my opinion.
Was it the 73-yard touchdown interception by New Orleans’ Tracy Porter that sealed the victory? Nope.
Was it the missed field goal by Matt Stover of the Colts at the beginning of the fourth quarter when his team was leading 17-16? Not by a wide margin.
Was it the failure of the Colts to gain a first down at the end of the first half, thus giving the Saints another chance to kick a field goal, which they did? Close, but no cigar.
The turning point, in my humble analysis, came in the second quarter, with Indianapolis ahead 10-3 and seemingly driving at will through the Saints defense. They had scored the first two times they possessed the ball. On their third drive, their first in the second quarter, the Colts faced a third down and four yards to go from their 28-yard line. Peyton Manning arched a perfect pass to Pierre Garcon, hitting him in stride as he diagonally crossed the field at the Colts 45-yard line.
“If he catches this it’s a footrace around the corner,” said CBS analyst Phil Simms, meaning that it could have been another score for Indianapolis, or at least a sizable gain. “If he catches.” “Could have been.” Phrases that convey a missed opportunity, for Garcon, the Haitian hero of the AFC title game two weeks earlier, dropped the ball.
“That’s a momentum changer, perhaps,” said announcer Jim Nantz, as prescient a call as any I’ve heard.
The Colts were forced to punt, and though the Saints at first failed to score despite getting down to the Colts 1-yard line (they eventually kicked a field goal to end the first half down 10-6), the game’s momentum indeed had shifted. In the second half, the Saints had the ball four times, producing two touchdowns and field goal. The Colts had the ball four times. They scored one touchdown, but also gave up Porter’s TD interception.
From my turning point in the game, The Saints outscored the Colts 28-7.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?
Holding in her fingertips the telltale evidence she had plucked from the shower drain, Gilda smirked ever so slightly as she informed me I was losing my hair.
It’s a good thing Yul Brynner was one of her heartthrobs, or my days as her loving companion might be limited by my follicle longevity.
I had been noticing small clumps of hair for weeks now. Stoically, in denial, I reasoned they must be Gilda’s, even as I realized the strands were too short and too dark to be hers.
Still, I wasn’t panicking. After all, my brother had been teasing me for four decades that my hairline was receding. Yet, anyone who looks at my picture to the right of this writing can see I retain a full head of hair, with little if any grey on my dome, but lots of white in my beard.
It’s not as if I should be unprepared for the topless look—I closely resemble my father and he was bald by the time he reached 30. I’ve more than doubled his hairy output.
One theory posits baldness is inherited from your mother’s father. In that case, I’m doomed. Grandpa Louis Gerson’s head resembled one of the globes in front of an old pawn shop. He had less hair than my father!
Calm, must stay calm. Wikipedia says “severe stress may cause a hair loss condition known as telogen effluvium.” Sounds ominous. But I don’t think that’s the cause as I’m under less stress these days than when I wore socks every day to work.
Looks like this will be a long-term theme to monitor. But don’t look for updated pictures. I kind of like the way I look in my current photo.
Zombiecrats: Here’s a quick, 24-second YouTube video that combines politics with the current fascination with zombies: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHK-ioV8UE8&feature=related
The Worst Name: I’ve always found that buying or leasing a car is one of the more agonizing experiences in life. No matter how easy the transaction is portrayed in ads, invariably a problem surfaces. So I was more than slightly amused to hear a radio ad promising no hassles when you buy or lease a new BMW from...Hassel Motors. Was there ever a worse name for a car dealership?
Jobs, Jobs, Jobs: Everyone seems to agree that before the country will be able to extricate itself from the current economic catastrophe, more jobs need to be created. Following the State of the Union address, the National Retail Federation underscored its position that sales would not rebound until more Americans are working.
“President Obama’s focus on the economy and job creation needs to be Washington’s highest priority,” said NRF president and CEO Tracy Mullin.
I share that sentiment but found it more than a little disconcerting that on the very same Web site (http://www.chainstoreage.com) where I read the NRF’s statement, there were articles about Macy’s cutting 1,500 jobs, The Home Depot slashing 1,000 jobs, and Wal-Mart’s Sam’s Club division eliminating 11,000 jobs, though many of the Sam’s Club unfortunates might be hired by an outside firm to conduct the same in-store sampling activities Wal-Mart had paid them to perform.
The message from retailers is not encouraging: Sales won’t get better till more people have jobs, and in the interim, we’re going to lay people off.
I know why they’re doing it. But it just underscores the severity and intractability of this Great Recession.
It’s a good thing Yul Brynner was one of her heartthrobs, or my days as her loving companion might be limited by my follicle longevity.
I had been noticing small clumps of hair for weeks now. Stoically, in denial, I reasoned they must be Gilda’s, even as I realized the strands were too short and too dark to be hers.
Still, I wasn’t panicking. After all, my brother had been teasing me for four decades that my hairline was receding. Yet, anyone who looks at my picture to the right of this writing can see I retain a full head of hair, with little if any grey on my dome, but lots of white in my beard.
It’s not as if I should be unprepared for the topless look—I closely resemble my father and he was bald by the time he reached 30. I’ve more than doubled his hairy output.
One theory posits baldness is inherited from your mother’s father. In that case, I’m doomed. Grandpa Louis Gerson’s head resembled one of the globes in front of an old pawn shop. He had less hair than my father!
Calm, must stay calm. Wikipedia says “severe stress may cause a hair loss condition known as telogen effluvium.” Sounds ominous. But I don’t think that’s the cause as I’m under less stress these days than when I wore socks every day to work.
Looks like this will be a long-term theme to monitor. But don’t look for updated pictures. I kind of like the way I look in my current photo.
Zombiecrats: Here’s a quick, 24-second YouTube video that combines politics with the current fascination with zombies: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHK-ioV8UE8&feature=related
The Worst Name: I’ve always found that buying or leasing a car is one of the more agonizing experiences in life. No matter how easy the transaction is portrayed in ads, invariably a problem surfaces. So I was more than slightly amused to hear a radio ad promising no hassles when you buy or lease a new BMW from...Hassel Motors. Was there ever a worse name for a car dealership?
Jobs, Jobs, Jobs: Everyone seems to agree that before the country will be able to extricate itself from the current economic catastrophe, more jobs need to be created. Following the State of the Union address, the National Retail Federation underscored its position that sales would not rebound until more Americans are working.
“President Obama’s focus on the economy and job creation needs to be Washington’s highest priority,” said NRF president and CEO Tracy Mullin.
I share that sentiment but found it more than a little disconcerting that on the very same Web site (http://www.chainstoreage.com) where I read the NRF’s statement, there were articles about Macy’s cutting 1,500 jobs, The Home Depot slashing 1,000 jobs, and Wal-Mart’s Sam’s Club division eliminating 11,000 jobs, though many of the Sam’s Club unfortunates might be hired by an outside firm to conduct the same in-store sampling activities Wal-Mart had paid them to perform.
The message from retailers is not encouraging: Sales won’t get better till more people have jobs, and in the interim, we’re going to lay people off.
I know why they’re doing it. But it just underscores the severity and intractability of this Great Recession.
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