Trivial Pursuits: Baseball, Playboy, Politics

I was scheduled to be spending Tuesday night contemplating a royal flush in diamonds, or maybe spades, as part of a monthly poker game. Instead, I will be looking at a diamond flush with Royals of the Kansas City variety. 

I’m a Yankees fan, so I really have no vested interest in the outcome of the World Series which began Tuesday night in Kansas City between the aforementioned Royals and the NY Mets, except that I harbor three eternal memories involving the Royals and Yankees—Chris Chambliss breaking the Royals’ hearts in 1976 by smacking a bottom-of-the-ninth-pennant-winning home run to launch the Yanks into their first World Series in 12 years. Chambliss’ attempt to run around the bases, barreling over jubilant fans, added humor to the excitement (http://m.mlb.com/video/v2685726); 

KC’s George Brett going ballistic after his home run in the old Yankee Stadium in 1983 was invalidated and he was declared out because there was too much pine tar on his bat, a ruling subsequently reversed (https://youtu.be/PrTYdlaqtxE); 

and Willie Randolph being thrown out at home plate by Brett during the 1980 American League Championship Series. Randolph was waved home by third base coach Mike Ferraro. Owner George Steinbrenner wanted to fire Ferraro, but manager Dick Howser refused, leading to his own firing or retirement (depending on your point of view) and his subsequent hiring by the Royals, the team he led five years later to its only World Series title (https://youtu.be/3uRX9Jwqx-I).

Well, enough of Yankee history. This is, after all, a time to celebrate that other New York baseball team, not the one that has won 27 championships to just two for the Mets. I haven’t followed who the oddsmakers have labeled the favorite, but it would be hard to bet against the Mets given their starting pitchers and closer. The four Mets starters are as dominant as the bunch the Atlanta Braves trotted out during the 1990s and early 2000s and the Baltimore Orioles fronted in 1971 when they had four starters win at least 20 games. But keep in mind, The O’s lost the Series that year, and Atlanta won just one championship despite making the playoffs 13 out of 14 years and being in the World Series five times. 

If you detect a slight edge to my analysis it’s because I’m bummed out that the Mets have pre-empted poker. I even volunteered to host as a TV is next to my game table. But nooooo, my Series-starved Mets-fans compatriots are too hepped up to play and watch at the same time. 

Okay, I get it. But I do hope they care more for the future of our country. I hope they place politics above baseball and tune into the Republican Party presidential debate Wednesday night. Is that asking too much?

Barber Shop Blue: When I turned 40 Gilda threw me a surprise birthday party. Among the presents I received that night were a few copies of Playboy. During the party I went upstairs and saw 10-year-old Dan’s bedroom door closed. Curious, I opened it to find him and two friends poring over the Playboys. I discreetly closed the door before rejoining the adults downstairs.

My first exposure to Playboy was at Paul’s Barber Shop on Avenue X between East 21st and 22nd Streets in Brooklyn, a short 5-7 minute walk from our home on Avenue W. Paul’s was an old-fashioned barber shop back in the 1950s and 1960s. During my single digit years I was content to read the comic books supplied (mostly Superman and Archie) and finish off my haircuts with a free wad of Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum. 

But in my teenage years, with Frank joining the barbering staff and doing razor cuts to control my naturally curly hair, Playboys started showing up on the magazine tables. I don’t think I have to tell you, I did not read Playboy for the articles. 

Really? Here’s what ticks me off about Conservative Republicans—a friend of mine emailed photos of George W. Bush interacting with injured servicemen during his presidency with the following caption: “Have you seen any photos like these in the last 6 years? Me neither.” 

“Surely you jest,” I responded. “Please don’t tell me you are extolling the man who put our brave soldiers in harm’s way under false pretenses, the man who is responsible for more American military deaths than any president since Richard Nixon, the man who is responsible for two wars that have mired us in trillions of dollars of debt? 

“Please don’t tell me you applaud him. And please don’t believe that Obama has not interfaced with our troops. And let’s not forget that Obama has comforted too many of our fellow citizens bereft by mass killers that the NRA and its acolytes, including your friend George, refuse to stand up to.” 

Hillary Time, A Correction and More Debate Thoughts

It’s almost time Tuesday night for the beginning of two weeks worth of Hillary Time. Here’s what I’d like to see from Hillary Rodham Clinton during the first Democratic Party presidential debate and as the key witness in the interminable Select House Benghazi Investigation committee hearing next week.

During the debate, Hillary—by the way, I am as guilty as other sexist commentators who refer to her by first name instead of her surname as opposed to using her family name as is usually done for male candidates, except, of course, when referring to The Donald—anyway, Hillary needs to be assertive and engaging. She needs to clarify her differences with Bernie Sanders without antagonizing his supporters. She must explain how she would accomplish more than Barack Obama did when working (or should I say trying to work) with a Republican controlled Senate and House. 

I have nothing against Sanders except the belief that he is unelectable (as are the three other announced candidates: Lincoln Chafee, Martin O’Malley and Jim Webb—you’ll notice I did not provide any description of their past titles. If you don’t know what offices they held you can understand why I am skeptical about their chances. I’m not going to spend the time mulling over Joe Biden’s entry/non entry into the race. Back to Bernie—can you imagine what the Republicans would do with his self-confessed claim of being a Democratic Socialist? No amount of explaining the concept would mitigate the extreme slurs that would be imprinted on the electorate’s psyche. Shades of Willie Horton, for those old enough to know the reference.). 

That said, here are some questions I hope to see asked and answered during the debate: 

*Given the very real prospect that both houses of Congress will be controlled by Republicans in 2017-18, what specifically do you feel you can accomplish legislatively?

*How would you balance income inequality given the GOP congress?

*Will you run on the Obama record?

*What changes, if any, would you like to see in the Affordable Care Act?

*What specific piece of enacted legislation are you most proud of having been the primary sponsor?

*Specifically asked of Hillary—Given polling data, how will you build trust with the American people?

*Many of the questions I posed after the second Republican debate would be applicable, so here’s a link to that post: http://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2015/09/questions-for-next-debate.html

Time to Testify: Next week Hillary cannot allow the select committee to manhandle her. She must not equivocate and must not allow committee members to interrupt her testimony. 

Recent news events have made it obvious the committee is political hackery to the extreme. Hillary should take a page from history and vigorously defend herself the same way Joseph Welch, chief counsel for the U.S. Army, rebutted Senator Joseph McCarthy’s assault on the integrity of the Army and the suspicion it, and his law office, had been infiltrated by Communists.

“Have you no sense of decency,” Welch’s acerbic rebuke of McCarthy, entered the lexicon of American politics. 

If the committee hearing devolves into a one-sided inquisition, Hillary should sternly state her unwillingness to participate any further and walk out, even if the committee threatens to hold her in contempt.  

How ironic that the congressman who exposed the political intent of the select committee, to undermine Hillary’s candidacy, shares the Wisconsin senator’s last name—McCarthy!

Correction Time: I was tripped up in my religious reporting. Pope Francis gave Kim Davis a rosary, not simply a crucifix. A rosary encompasses a cross which dangles at the end of beads.

More Debate Thoughts: And now more words about The Great Debate—was Chase Utley guilty of an illegal slide that broke the leg of NY Mets shortstop Ruben Tejada? 

First, a confession: I’m a NY Yankees fan. I don’t like the Mets. My bias notwithstanding, I believe Utley played old fashioned hardball, the type played by Pete Rose, Frank Robinson, Ty Cobb, Jackie Robinson. 

They played to win, not injure. It’s unfortunate Tejada sustained a season-ending injury. Let’s keep the play in perspective. The most often printed baseball picture for many years was a shortstop or second baseman leaping to avoid a baserunner’s slide meant to plant him in the left field bleachers if a double play relay throw could be averted. 

Utley did his job. Major League Baseball should let the players police themselves. Utley plays second base. He will have to watch out every time he cover the base, especially when it’s a Met barreling down on him. 

Derek Jeter to the Rescue?

“Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? 

A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.” 

Today's “Mrs. Robinson” lyric might substitute Derek Jeter for Jolting Joe.

Derek Jeter might play again for the NY Yankees this weekend. It’s not just the Yankees who need his bat and presence back in the lineup. Major League Baseball needs Jeter. With his clean cut image and, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, his drug-free career, Jeter will be called upon to rescue America’s one-time pastime from its steroid and performance enhanced nightmare. 

Forty-five years ago, when Paul Simon included Joe DiMaggio in his iconic send-up of Mrs. Robinson, it perplexed many, including DiMaggio. Simon, who attends many games at Yankee Stadium, explained in a March 9, 1999, New York Times Op-Ed piece after the “Yankee Clipper’s” death a day earlier, that the line was meant as a sincere tribute to DiMaggio's unpretentious heroic stature, in a time when popular culture magnifies and distorts how we perceive our heroes.  

"In these days of Presidential transgressions and apologies and prime-time interviews about private sexual matters,” wrote Simon, “we grieve for Joe DiMaggio and mourn the loss of his grace and dignity, his fierce sense of privacy, his fidelity to the memory of his (former) wife (Marilyn Monroe) and the power of his silence” (http://www.nytimes.com/1999/03/09/opinion/the-silent-superstar.html).

Many thought Ryan Braun of the Milwaukee Brewers was cut in the mold of Jeter. We have learned otherwise. We already knew Alex Rodriguez was no Derek Jeter. Fans of the NY Mets and baseball were caught off-guard when pitching sensation Matt Harvey said in recent interviews that he wanted to be like Jeter, not the Jeter who has conscientiously led his team to five World Series championships without a hint of scandal or bravado, but rather he wanted to date fashion models like Jeter, to own the best bachelor apartment in Manhattan like Jeter, to sign a $200 million contract like Jeter (http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/baseball/mets-ace-matt-harvey-derek-jeter-model-article-1.1401745). Some have excused the 24-year-old’s comments as the musings of a still immature player who has yet to complete his first full year in the big leagues. Of course, Jeter never publicly made any such pronouncements after he joined the Yankees just before his twentieth birthday. Harvey also posed nude for ESPN The Magazine. Harvey seems to be channeling A-Rod, not Jeter.

Jeter is not the only star who can soften the glare of the negative spotlight baseball is under. His teammate Mariano Rivera, who received the adulation of fans and other players during last week’s All-Star Game, showed again why he is respected. WFAN reported Wednesday that when Rivera noticed a portrait of 2011 MVPs Ryan Braun (National League) and Justin Verlander (American League) hanging in the visitors’ locker room of the Texas Rangers Monday, he told an attendant the picture should be removed. It was gone the next day. 

It might be, probably is, asking too much of Jeter to be an impact player during the last third of the season. He’s already a freak of nature for performing at the level he has these last few years as he approaches his fifth decade of life. Perhaps we should be content that Rivera has defied Father Time. Jeter has earned his place as an honored and honorable face of baseball. Then again, unlike Alex Rodriguez, as the post-season has shown, Jeter does not let pressure affect his game. He just might be the catalyst the Yankees and baseball need to make this season memorable in a good way.

Piercings Are Not for the Faint-Hearted

My sister Lee, who had a crush on one of Dr. Harry’s sons, Kurt, (btw, it was in Kurt’s house on Long Island that I saw the end of the perfect game Jim Bunning pitched against the NY Mets on Father’s Day 1964), says she and our brother Bernie did try to help soothe me when I was about to get an injection from the good doctor. According to Lee, I was “so distressed (I) lost total thinking process.” Adding insult to injury, Lee says modern medicine had already advanced to the point where getting a “shot was really not necessary. They had pills even then” that would have cured me. 

Lee also advises her screams when getting her ears pierced “were not for the piercing per se. Rather, Dr. Harry put white thread onto the needle and then after the hole was made pulled the thread thru the ear and tied it loosely. The pain was the pulling of the thread. For the next several weeks I needed to clean the earlobe with alcohol and move the thread back and forth even though it often crusted, thus inflicting even more pain. Today is a piece of cake. They pierce the earlobe with an earring and there is far less trauma to the earlobe than in the old days.” 

She’s right about the thread (I left it out of the story so as not to overly complicate it. Regardless of the cause, her screams were palpable). But she’s a little too cavalier about the trauma of today’s ear piercing practice, at least as far as my experience with Ellie.

Having been traumatized by Lee’s experience, I could not go with Ellie when she wanted her ears pierced when she was around 11 years old. Gilda was too chicken as well. So our friend Linda took her. They went to Piercing Pagoda in the Galleria Mall in downtown White Plains. A few months later, Ellie wanted more holes in her ears. I reluctantly was dragooned into taking her. We went back back to Piercing Pagoda where they brought out a gun which they put to her earlobe and fired. I saw something shoot across the floor. I was convinced it was part of her ear. I screamed, only to realize what I thought was part of her ear was a piece of plastic that pierced her ear. She did not scream or cry. I was a wreck.

Ellie subsequently had several more ear piercings, including one in the cartilage at the top of an ear for a long post. For several years she nagged us about getting a belly button piercing. Finally, around her 14th birthday, we agreed, but only if we accompanied her. It was our way of assuring she didn’t simultaneously get a nose pierce or worse, a tongue pierce. 

We went to the East Village in Manhattan, along Astor Place, one evening after work. With an attaché case in hand, dressed in a suit and topcoat, I looked even more like a fish out of water than I would have in jeans and a leather jacket. We found a piercing and tattoo parlor on the north side of the street, walked up the stairs and told the clerk what we wanted. We had to wait while they pierced a young man’s tongue, she said. Except, when asked when he last ate, his answer was too long ago to satisfy her. She counseled him to run out and eat a bagel because he wouldn’t be able to chew anything for hours and they didn’t want him passing out during the procedure or after from a low blood sugar level. How comforting.

It was now Ellie’s turn. She went behind a curtain in the back. Gilda went with her. I heard no screams. They emerged a few minutes later, Ellie beaming, Gilda a little flushed. 

Ellie didn’t bother us about any more piercings, but the next year while in Israel, she did get that nose piercing. We never saw it. The day before she flew back home she called her brother Dan to ask if we would flip out if she emerged from Customs with her nose pierced. Most decidedly, Dan responded. Ellie removed the piercing on the plane. It was months before she told us about it. 

Tigers Lose; Yanks, Mets Win

The Detroit Tigers did more than just lose the World Series to the San Francisco Giants Sunday night. They purged New York baseball of two forgettable, embarrassing memories.

Detroit reached the series this year by emasculating the Yankees. They swept the Yankees four straight, limiting New York’s scoring to just three innings over four games (39 innings). Their chief nemesis was a former Yankee, left-handed relief pitcher Phil Coke. He completely shut down the Bronx Bombers in all four games. Miguel Cabrera, this years triple crown winner and certain most valuable player, catapulted the Tigers into the World Series by smacking a home run in the final win over the Yankees. Detroit’s starting pitchers—Doug Fister, Anibel Sanchez, Justin Verlander, Max Scherzer—manhandled the Yankees. Yankee fans were depressed.

Oh how emotions can change in a week. Detroit’s bats went as silent as  the Yankees’. San Francisco’s pitchers shut them out in two games. Detroit scored runs in just four out of 37 innings. They were as inept as the Yanks had been when hitting with runners in scoring position. Fister, Sanchez, and Verlander lost games. In perfect payback, Coke lost the final game.

The Yankees and their fans could feel a little less frazzled by the team’s failure in the playoffs.

And for good added measure, the NY Mets, their former all-star outfielder Carlos Beltran and their fans may sleep a little easier after watching Cabrera take a called third strike to end the Series when all of Detroit was hoping for a home run to tie the game, or at the very least a hit to prolong the contest. Shades of Beltran standing immobile at the plate, his bat on his shoulder, to end the seventh game against the St. Louis Cardinals in the 2006 National League Championship Series.

Vindication?  No. Absolution? No. Just recognition that hitting a baseball, especially at a critical time, is among the most difficult sporting feats. New York baseball, once the home of the Giants, salutes the world champions for giving us back some measure of sanity and acceptance that every season cannot end with a salute down the Canyon of Heroes in Lower Manhattan.

Seeking Consistency

Predictably, my softball team lost its playoff game Sunday. The season is over, a season of consistency if you consider lack of hitting, lack of fielding, lack of smart baserunning, lack of solid pitching and, most importantly, lack of sound baseball sense, traits to applaud for their game in-game out consistency. But was it fun losing 14 of 17 games? Overall, I’d say it was worth the effort and enjoyable enough to get out of bed early Sunday mornings from April through September. 

It wasn’t pretty watching a reincarnation of the 1962 NY Mets (or the 2012 Mets), but I can’t say my teammates didn’t try. After all, if they tried their hardest, isn’t that all you can ask for? My only real regret is that somehow, in one of the few games we won early in the season, somehow I twisted my left knee and it now pops and cracks every time I exert myself (I’ve self-diagnosed it as a medial collateral ligament sprain). Softball season might be over but last night my indoor tennis season began and I immediately felt constrained by my inability to pivot on my left leg. 

For months Gilda has been telling me I needed to exercise to strengthen the quad muscles surrounding the knee. She’s right, of course. She’s consistently right about the need to exercise and I, unfortunately, consistently resist. Well, I’ve gotten to the point where it’s either exercise or stop playing tennis. I think my exercise program begins the day after Yom Kippur, a day in which I will atone for not listening to her sooner.

Chutzpah: Not sure how many of you read the business section of the NY Times, but if you’d like a real-world example of chutzpah, read this article about the choice of Tim Pawlenty to be the new president of an influential Wall Street lobbying organization: http://dealbook.nytimes.com/2012/09/24/about-face-for-bankers-new-lobbyist/?ref=business

It’s the latest example of a politician’s lack of principles, in this case, how the former governor of Minnesota, who for years consistently criticized the financial industry during his erstwhile run for the Republican presidential nomination, has decided to go for the big bucks and become his supposed arch-enemy’s mouthpiece. We’ve often seen ex-senators and congressmen from both parties become lobbyists, so it’s not a head-spinner that Pawlenty has turned to the dark side. What is news is that almost all his predecessors to the lobbying trough had experience dealing with their new clients through Senate or House committee assignments. Pawlenty has no background in the financial industry. Another example of how politicians consistently never fail to amaze.

Football Frenzy: For years I consistently avoided wasting my money on football pools. I prefer losing money the old fashioned way, in a poker game where I have direct involvement, rather than letting ballplayers or game officials determine the outcome. Nevertheless, this year I joined a Football Frenzy pool, the object of which is to pick as many winners each week as possible. Through three weeks I can say I have been consistent, picking seven winners each week. That record of accomplishment has placed me 20th out of 22 participants. I’m only seven points behind the leader (shout-out to Gregg), but there are 14 more weeks of play so there’s still time to recoup my investment.

Don’t look to me for a definitive call on the last second touchdown or interception on the final play of the Packers-Seahawks game Monday night. I’ve seen videotape of the play and heard numerous interpretations of the rule book. Suffice to say, the replacement refs are consistently challenged to work up to the standards set by the regular officials who are on strike. But like my softball teammates, they are trying, they just don’t have the experience or skill sets to police a game that whizzes by their competence levels. Let’s be honest, however. In the past there have been plenty of controversial calls from regular officials. It’s just easier to complain, and more visible, when replacement refs blow a call.

A Pet Peeve: I consider myself a fairly well educated person, with good vocabulary skills. I wonder, however, why some writers purposely include words that the average, nay, even the elite, would never deem to use in normal prose. Here’s an example from a recent NY Times Book Review by Mark Lewis of “The Fish That Ate the Whale”: “At times, (Rich) Cohen waxes almost Kiplingesque as he celebrates the man and his myrmidons.” 

What the hell are mymidons? Was it the Lewis’ intention to have me put down his review and open a dictionary to ascertain that a myrmidon is “a faithful follower who obeys orders unquestioningly”? After gaining that knowledge, am I supposed to include myrmidon in my next conversation or blog about Assad or the Ayatollah? 

I’d say it is a certain consistent conceit that infuses the literature of some writers. By the way, The Fish That Ate the Whale sounds like an interesting book. It’s about Samuel Zemurray, his leadership of the United Fruit Company, and how “Sam the Banana Man” affected American foreign policy in Central America as much as any elected official.

News from the Weekend

One of the recurring themes of this year’s presidential election is the effort to portray Mitt Romney and family as being more than slightly different than the average Joe, Jane and their children. The Romneys do, after all, have a net worth in the $220 million range.

Nonetheless, I have no doubt Mitt and Ann can identify with coupon-cutting families across the country. Of course, the coupons Mitt and Ann are clipping are from zero coupon bonds, but what the heck, they have to cut along the dotted lines, as well, to get their money. 

Chilly enough for you (at least those of you in the northeast)? With temperatures barely in the 60’s, with the skies mostly overcast, I think I may have jinxed the weather for everyone by removing our heated mattress pad on Saturday for a summer hiatus. Who knew the weather gods would react so quickly? Please, accept my apologies.

The weather cooperated over the weekend, first for a Prospect Park picnic Saturday in honor of soon-to-be-son-in-law Donny’s 30th birthday (Ellie cooked delicious fried chicken with several homemade salads) and then on Sunday for Ellie’s bridal shower at our friend Linda’s house. The rains held off until the ladies had retired from the tented garden patio to the comfort of the living room to open presents and eat some scrumptious desserts.

I did the unthinkable Friday night—I switched from watching a NY Yankees game to a NY Mets telecast.

The Yankees had bulletined Johan Santana’s bid for a no-hitter had entered the ninth inning. How could any baseball fan resist being a witness to history? I must say, I was emotionally involved when Santana ended the no-hitter with a flourish, the way it should always end, with a strikeout. 

Santana’s exploits notwithstanding, I’m not ready to abandon the Yankees. But it was heartwarming, for one night, to share in the joy of the “faithful,” long-suffering Mets fan. 

One of the last decisions I pondered while at Chain Store Age in 2009 was to cut the frequency of our monthly magazine down to nine times a year. I bring this up because of an article in today’s NY Times about the choices several daily newspapers have made to trim publication down to several times a week (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/04/business/media/as-newspapers-cut-analysts-ask-if-readers-will-remain.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=business).

As it was for me, the decisions tried to balance reduced advertising revenue with the need to cultivate and inform readers on a consistent basis. Ultimately, my management team determined we could not provide monthly publication frequency. I retired before the cuts could be implemented the following year. 

Another Times article caught my eye over the weekend. It too involved my former employer and “gaydar,” the ability to detect someone’s sexual orientation by merely looking at them (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/03/opinion/sunday/the-science-of-gaydar.html?_r=1).  

In the early 1980s one of the vice presidents of our company thought I needed an executive editor. He brought a woman candidate to my cubicle for an interview. She was very experienced, but not really interested in business journalism. I enjoyed hearing her background, but we agreed it would not be a great match.

After she left the vice president settled into my office to ascertain my reaction. These were semi-"Mad Men" days, so you’ll pardon his crude choice of words when he asked “if she and I could get into bed together” (possibly in his defense, keep in mind that publications are “put to bed” when they are printed).  

Anyway, I responded “I don’t think so, besides, she’s a lesbian.” How did I know that?, he asked incredulously. Simple, she told me, including the fact she had a relationship with Betty Friedan. 

That was the last time he ever recommended any candidate to me.

Odds & Ends: Yankees, Swimming, Vegetable Oil, Romney, E-Mail

After another disheartening loss by the NY Yankees, this time to the Cincinnati Reds, I thought I’d ask one of my friends, a long-suffering NY Mets fan, how I could cope with a season of unfulfilled expectations. 

“Realistic expectations,” was Ken’s response, a philosophy he has perfected over many years but which he readily admitted was foreign to Yankees fans who have grown accustomed to regular season success, at the very least. 

Based on their play and their injury-laden roster, the Yankees and their fans are in for a very loooong season. Will it be a success if we manage to finish ahead of Boston?

Ken is my swimming instructor. He’s opened his pool, but it’s weeks too early to even consider dipping a dainty toe into the water, even if he heats it up. We agree I have the fundamentals down, that my failure to stay afloat is mostly, if not all, mental. Ken suggested adding a psychologist to the instructional team. My sister suggested a hypnotist. 

It’s still open to debate who will learn to swim first—two and a half year old Finley or his 63 year old grandfather.

The other day while driving home I was stopped behind a Mercedes with a decal across the back window proclaiming, “Powered by vegetable oil.”

Cool. Except the car really smelled like cooked French fries. 

The Sunday NY Times ran a profile of Mitt Romney and how the Mormon religion has shaped his life (“Romney’s Faith, Silent but Deep,” http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/20/us/politics/how-the-mormon-church-shaped-mitt-romney.html?_r=1&hpw). 

He is, no doubt, a religious man. Nothing wrong there. But I was troubled especially by the last paragraph of the story, the one where Ann Romney was quoted about his decision to run for president. According to Gloria White-Hammond, a friend and pastor of a Boston-area African Methodist Episcopal church, Mrs. Romney said she and her husband “felt it was what God wanted them to do.” 

I’m troubled whenever anyone, other than maybe a clergyman, ascribes actions to what God wanted them to do. Is that how our government will be managed, by what is perceived to be messages from God? Romney, it turns out, as a practicing Mormon, is said to believe God has chosen the United States to be a special nation, that its Constitution is divinely inspired. 

“God is on our side” often is a rallying cry of countries that go to war. Heaven need truly help us if we devolve into a 21st century nation that believes our actions are always godly and beyond reproach. 

A friend sent me one of those right wing emails that deplore what is wrong with America and what we need to do to fix it. The thrust of this missive was too many people are taking money from the government without contributing anything in return. In other words, the have-nots are bleeding the haves dry. “We have let the free stuff giving go on for so long that there are now more people getting free stuff than paying for the free stuff.” 

Here’s the final credo:

Obama:Gone!

Borders: Closed!

Language: English only

Culture: Constitution, and the Bill of Rights!

Drug Free: Mandatory Drug Screening before Welfare!

NO freebies to: Non-Citizens!

I can’t let these screeds go unanswered, so here’s a little of what I wrote back:

Here's a link to a USA Today article http://www.usatoday.com/news/washington/2010-08-30-1Asafetynet30_ST_N.htm . In essence it says: 

50 million are on Medicaid

40 million get food stamps

10 million are on unemployment

4.4 million are on welfare.

Assuming no one is double dipping, that means 104.4 million receive some form of government assistance. That's roughly one-third of the U.S. population, not a majority. Enrollments in these programs have gone up because of the recession George W. Bush left as his legacy. 

Would you really like to live in a country that does not care for its elderly, for its infirm, for those who are not provided a proper education so they can climb out of poverty? Would you really like to live in a country that has no compassion for the less fortunate? Are you comfortable living in the richest country in the world while millions of children go to bed hungry each night? 

For sure there is waste, lots of waste, in these programs. But just as we don't tar the full military for the wrongdoings of a few idiots, we shouldn't dismiss the benefits these programs provide to the needy, of all ages, sexes, creeds, religions, background, and country of origin. 

Many in our country donate to worthwhile charities and other helpful programs. Yet poverty persists. Hunger remains. Education budgets are cut at a time when we need better trained employees. Private solutions are not sufficient to solve our problems. An economy without controls will lead to more abuses a la Enron, Tyco, JP Morgan Chase, and the derivative crisis that is the derivation of much of the financial problems of today. Surely you can't believe that we live in a Pollyanna world where everything will turn out just right if we pray hard for it and wish for it because in their hearts all men and women are good and would not take advantage of their neighbors and countrymen? There's a reason the first thing new settlers build is not a church but rather a jail. 

Economic Lessons From An Early Age

Choo Choo Coleman is back in town.

I wasn’t a NY Mets fan growing up, nor at present, but I saw Choo Choo play for the Mets in the old Polo Grounds, the team’s first home before Shea Stadium and now Citi Field rose in Flushing Meadows. It was at the Polo Grounds I witnessed first-hand the mastery of Sandy Koufax of the Los Angeles Dodgers. At the Polo Grounds, pitchers would warm up before the game near their respective dugouts. As Koufax warmed up, my brother and I made our way to the front row. I still can visualize the 12-to-6 curveballs Koufax spun during his warm-ups, hear the thumps of his fastballs as they hit the catcher’s mitt.

Choo Choo (nobody called him Coleman) came back to New York for the first time since 1966 to be a featured guest at baseball memorabilia shows and a baseball writers’ dinner (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/24/sports/baseball/mets-choo-choo-coleman-50-years-later.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=sports).

One of the foundations of any sports show is the showcasing and trading of baseball cards. Like most youngsters I had a massive baseball card collection, cleaned out one day by my mother. I didn’t have a hard to secure Rogers Hornsby card, but I had my fair share of Mickey Mantles, Yogi Berras, Roberte Clementes and Stan Musials.

Baseball cards were not just for collecting. They were also for playing with, often in ways that were sort of like gambling. Just like pitching pennies, where the winner is the one who flicked a penny closest to the wall, kids would cast cards toward a wall. A variation on this game was tossing a card towards a wall already targeted by your opponent; if your card landed on top of your opponent’s, you claimed his card. If it didn’t, he took yours.

Another game entailed holding a card to a wall and letting it tumble down. Your opponent won your card if his fell on top of yours. He lost his if it didn’t.

A fourth game was dropping cards from your hand to match the front or back of your opponent’s cards. One trick we used—if you wanted the card to land on its picture side, you’d hold the card with the back facing out. Fifth game variation: dropping cards from a wall, your opponent trying to match the fronts and backs.

Baseball cards were not just gambling devices. Using clothes pins, kids affixed cards to bicycle wheel spokes to make clicking noises while speeding through neighborhoods. Of course, I didn't do this because I never learned to ride a two-wheeler as a child.

Cards were also used to set up a defensive field in a game of marble baseball. If a batted marble rolled to a pre-determined spot on the field without first touching a card, you reached base safely. But if a marble skimmed over a card, you were out.

Perhaps the greatest contribution baseball cards made to the youth of America was their part in our education into the ways of capitalism.

Baseball cards were our currency of exchange We learned about supply and demand. We learned not all cards had equal value. We learned how to trade for the cards we wanted. We learned how to be good losers. We learned how to size up the competition, how to stay away from sharpies, how to exploit suckers. We learned fortunes could be won or lost in an hour. We learned sometimes it's the smart thing to walk away during a hot streak, that success can be fleeting if based on the flip of a card.

We learned, ultimately, that not everyone shared our values, that what we thought was gold our mothers thought was trash.

We learned to forgive, at least on the outside, but never to forget the simple joys of baseball cards.

And lest anyone think I'd forgotten, mom also threw out my comic book collection.

A Flair for the Dramatic

No one could ever accuse Derek Jeter, captain of the NY Yankees, of having an undeveloped sense of drama. Everything he does seems to be tinged with an acute sense of timing, the latest example of which was his dramatic entry into the elite club of 3,000 hit baseball players.

First, Jeter heightened the drama by sustaining an injury just six hits shy of the milestone. Next, he returned in time to set the stage for a Yankee Stadium-setting of the record. Third, the record hit was a home run, an anomaly among Jeter’s general hits nowadays. Fourth, Jeter did not stop at 3,000 on Saturday. He had a day for the ages, going 5 for 5 and knocking in the winning run with a single.

Anyone would remember a 5 for 5 day—Jeter had two of them before. But to add another on the day he stroked his 3,000th hit was an extraordinary bit of theater. It reinforces the flair for the dramatic that Jeter has cultivated throughout his 16-season career.

It ranks with his Jeffrey Maier-assisted home run in the 1996 playoff opener against the Baltimore Orioles; his backhand flip to Jorge Posada to nail Jeremy Giambi at the plate in the 2001 playoffs against the Oakland Athletics; his head-first dive into the third base stands after making a running catch against the Boston Red Sox in 2004, a feat he performed three years earlier against the A’s in the 2001 playoffs; his “Mr. November” home run at 12:03 am November 1 to win a World Series game against the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2001; his quick-release-spin relay throw to home to get Timo Perez in game one of the 2000 World Series against the NY Mets; his leadoff homer in game four of that same series.

In short, Jeter has had a highlight reel career now capped with an incredible performance Saturday. And I missed it because Yankee baseball is not broadcast in Israel. At least not in the hotel I stayed in. Oh well, I guess I will just have to wait for YES to rebroadcast it as one of their encore games.

News Flash—I just checked the YES Network schedule; the game will be rebroadcast in 10 minutes, so I’m signing off for my view of history already made.

Darkness No More

Literally and figuratively, Gilda and I went to bed in the dark Sunday night.

Tired from a full day of gardening, Gilda drifted off to sleep around 10:30. I followed shortly thereafter, oblivious to the drama about to unfold in the next hour. When I woke around 3:15 I couldn’t immediately fall back to sleep. As I often do at such moments, I turned on my iTouch to play a game of solitaire and then downloaded the latest news from the NY Times. I started with the sports section. Though not a NY Mets fan, I was immediately drawn to the headline, “Mets Win on Field in 14 Innings, but Big News Was Buzzing in the Crowd.”

The first paragraph firmly jolted me awake. “A long, emotional Sunday night came to a happy conclusion on Monday morning for the Mets, who beat the Philadelphia Phillies, 2-1, in 14 innings in a game that became a backdrop for the nation’s reaction to the news of the death of Osama bin Laden.”

Quickly turning to the main news section, I devoured the articles. After about 15 minutes I couldn’t contain my excitement. When Gilda shifted slightly in bed, I took advantage of the opportunity to ask if she were awake. I said Osama bin Laden had been killed.

For the next hour we read our iTouches, sharing tidbits of information gleaned one article ahead or behind the other. Until Gilda told me, I completely missed, for example, the sentence at the end of the second paragraph of the main news story stating bin Laden’s body was buried at sea. We watched a recording of President Obama’s speech. Written by the president himself, it was said, it was a great, moving speech.

Throughout Monday I was partially paralyzed with interest, as news morsel after news morsel trickled out. I was amused while CNN’s Wolf Blitzer was interviewing former Bush secretary of state Colin Powell. The graphics people inserted a picture of bin Laden’s compound outlined in red. Amused because the outline resembled the borders of the state of Israel.

Bin Laden was taken down Sunday, New York time, the same day Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, was commemorated.

Political leaders of both parties praised President Obama. Republicans included George W. Bush in their praise. Understandable. Perhaps surprisingly, Rush Limbaugh heaped praise on a president he usually excoriates. He hailed Obama for continuing the Bush policies in the Middle East and for keeping Guantanamo open, but mostly for overruling the military’s desire to strike the compound from the air. Obama insisted on special forces on the ground, said Limbaugh.

Donald Trump congratulated Obama and the armed forces. Sarah Palin, however, revealed more of her petty, bitchy character by failing to acknowledge President Obama’s involvement. Hamas showed the world its true colors as a terrorist organization by calling bin Laden a “holy warrior” and labeling his killing an “assassination.”

The proficiency of our strike force reminded me of the Israeli raid on Entebbe in 1976 and the more recent American success rescuing the crew and captain of the freighter seized by Somali pirates.

There will be those who bemoan we didn’t bring bin Laden back alive to face interrogation and trial. I won’t.

There will be those who question if he’s really dead. I won’t.

No matter how many terrorists are captured or killed, the war on terrorism will go on and on and on. It only takes one radical to keep it going. But we should never forget that our liberties are at stake, that terrorists win not by murdering scores, hundreds, even thousands of our citizens, but rather by scaring us into stripping away the freedoms upon which our country was founded.

Almost 10 years ago, while on a business trip to Phoenix, I slept through the morning attacks of September 11, awakening in time to see the second tower collapse. Last night I slept through the initial reports of our victory over the archetype of terror. How strange.