Picking a Favorite Football Team, Songs of My Parents, Punishing Helmet Hits

It is six days until kickoff of Super Bowl LII Sunday between the Philadelphia Eagles and the defending champions the New England Patriots. If my father were alive, there’s a good chance he would be rooting for the underdog Eagles.

Not that he handicapped any games. He barely knew what football was, the American version, that is. Growing up in Poland he knew football for what we call soccer. But I digress. 

After arriving on American shores in 1939, my father had a difficult time learning the intricacies of what was then, and by some still is, considered the national pastime, baseball. Occasionally he would watch parts of a game with my brother Bernie and me. It was our mother who took us to ball games until Bernie was old enough to escort me to Ebbets Field, Yankee Stadium, the Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium without adult supervision. 

Football was not a game my father ever spent any time watching. Because of his bald pate, he did, by the way, bear a striking resemblance to Y.A. Tittle, the “Bald Eagle” Hall of Fame quarterback of the San Francisco 49ers and, late in his career, the New York Giants, the team he led to three consecutive NFL Eastern Conference titles in 1961-62-63. Alas, he never was able to win a championship. 

Thirty-seven years ago my father got caught up in the frenzy of football memorabilia. As Bernie recalled, in late December 1979, Dad, an independent apparel manufacturer, surprised him by saying he was rooting for Philadelphia to win its next game. Bernie asked if he knew whether the team was playing football, basketball or hockey. “I don’t know, or care,” he replied. “I only know that if Philadelphia wins and plays next week, then I have an order for 10,000 green T-shirts with white sleeves!”

It was the Philadelphia Eagles football team. They played the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in a divisional playoff game. Philadelphia lost, 24-17. 

There are no shirt orders on the line for this Super Bowl matchup. I am rooting for the Patriots. Except when they’re playing the Giants, I favor New England. Their quarterback, Tom Brady, is just the best to watch dissect a defense. There are no other indispensable stars on the team. 

I want New England to win, as well, because our grandson Finley has become a Patriots fan and wears a Brady jersey while watching games. He began life as a Giants and Eli Manning fan, as his father, Dan and mother, Allison, and grandfather are. But living outside Boston the transformation into a Patriots booster was inevitable. 

To my knowledge, he has not succumbed to becoming a Red Sox devotee. I’m counting on his parents to keep him a Yankees fan. 

  

Sing a Song: When you’re in a reflective mood, do you find yourself humming or singing a song? I often do. But they’re not songs of my youth or adulthood. They are songs my parents sang.

My mother always had music playing in the background. Mostly American standards played on WVNJ-AM or WPAT-FM. She enjoyed Broadway musicals and operas. But the only two songs that resonate among memories of my mother were sung by Kate Smith and Jo Stafford.

“When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain” was Kate Smith’s theme song. I remember the lyric Mom sang as, 

“When the moon comes over the mountains

Someone waits for me” 

but the actual lyrics are, 

“When the moon comes over the mountain

I’m alone with my memory

Of you”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOvmnQjOxPU

When she was in a more jocular mood Mom would sing the Jo Stafford song: 

“Shrimp boats is a-comin’ 

Their sails are in sight 

Shrimp boats is a-comin’ 

There’s dancin’ tonight”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1dz1YRXdOA

Dad, on the other hand, did a virtuoso performance of “Home on the Range.” He’d belt it out whenever we’d be driving close to home after a family outing. Bernie says he liked that song because it was one of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s favorites. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_YK7ebcZ2o)

And Dad would sing late in the afternoon in his factory, usually while repairing a recalcitrant Merrow sewing machine. I can still see him hunched over the black machine, but I cannot place any melody.

Back to Football: There is one other star, maybe even a superstar, player on the Patriots. He’s Rob Gronkowski, a tight end who is a favorite receiver of Tom Brady. But it’s not certain he will play because he is recuperating from a concussion suffered when his helmet was hit by a defender’s helmet during the Patriots’ victory over the Jacksonville Jaguars.

Helmet to helmet hits are the scourge of football especially now that concussions are considered the reason many players develop brain injuries. Yet defenders persist in leading with their heads when making tackles. 

There’s a simple way to reduce helmet to helmet injuries and other violent acts that lead to injuries: Suspend without pay the offender for as long as the injured player misses playing time. If the egregious incident occurs late in a season or playoff game the offending player’s punishment carries over to the following year if the injured player has a lingering injury. If it is a career ending injury the guilty party would be suspended for a full year in addition to any games left in the current schedule.

Faced with the loss of salary and playing time, tacklers will not risk butting helmets and coaches will go back to teaching fundamentals of football that do not include head to head contact.

Look to Becket to Solve Mystery of Deflategate

Finally, a controversy of national, possibly international, import worthy of my sleuthing talents. Finally a brouhaha worthy of, and waiting for, presidential pronouncement, equal to, if not exceeding, previous statements on the absurd rush to arrest a distinguished Afro-American Harvard professor caught in the act of breaking into his Cambridge, Mass., home, arrested merely because said professor was black, or the tragic, possibly fatal, mistakes awaiting Afro-American young men encountered by police. 

Yes, we now have a cliffhanger of a crime that defies explanation and threatens to upstage the NFL's Super Bowl party. Deflategate. How could 11 of 12 properly inflated footballs each lose two pounds of pressure per square inch from the moment two hours and fifteen minutes before game time that the officials handed the balls over to the New England Patriots till half time of their conference championship game against the Indianapolis Colts when the refs re-measured the pressure inside the balls?

Who did it? We don’t know. We know the why. Patriots quarterback Tom Brady is on record as saying he prefers underinflated balls. Brady denies any involvement in the deflation scandal. So does coach Bill Belichick.

It’s too much of a coincidence to believe all but one ball lost air pressure naturally without the aid of knowing hands and a small air pin.

The mischievous, illegal deed had virtually no impact on the game—New England handily won 45-7. In the first half, using soft balls, Brady’s bunch scored 17 points. In the second half, with regulation balls back in play, Brady engineered 28 more points. Go figure.

But who did it? We can’t go to the videotape, or maybe we can if the perp did it on the sidelines. Surely a camera must have caught the pigskin paring. Probably a long shot at best, however. 

Instead of the videotape, let’s go to the movies (or stage play) of…Becket, a dramatic presentation of the war of wills between former best friends King Henry II of England and Thomas Becket, archbishop of Canterbury. Frustrated that Becket continuously thwarted his designs, Henry voiced out loud his exasperation. “Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest?,” Henry is said to have uttered. Four well-intentioned knights, patriots all, took it upon themselves to commit murder in the cathedral, a crime for which Henry took the blame and some punishment, though not excommunication. 

So here’s my theory—knowing Brady’s preference for underinflated balls, someone, or some few, on the Patriots’ equipment squad took it upon themselves to let the air out of the balls. For all we know, this practice could have been standard procedure before all games this season and many a season prior. No one was the wiser until the cheating was discovered during the conference championship game. 

Will we ever find out who did it? Doubtful. Will Belichick and Brady be punished? Maybe the coach will be suspended for a few games next season, as he is the person ultimately responsible for everything football related. Brady will walk away with no penalty other than a cloud over his once hallowed reputation.

Ebola Tackles Football

The quarterback of our daughter and son-in-law’s coed Brooklyn bar league football team went bowling last week and now the team’s season is all but over.

No, he didn’t wrench his arm out trying to make a 7-10 split spare. Rather, he’s a victim of the ongoing, somewhat overarching and sometimes shameful Ebola scare. You see, on the evening Dr. Craig Spencer went bowling at Gutter in Williamsburg, the quarterback patronized the same bowling alley. Dr. Spencer, you will recall, is the good doctor who volunteered to save lives in Guinea to treat Ebola patients and stem the plague, who unfortunately contracted the disease himself with symptoms displayed last Thursday. 

It is only natural to be cautious, concerned and sensitive. But people, including governors in our area, who are calling for and mandating quarantines for Ebola care workers, are feeding public panic by ignoring established medical science that Ebola is transmitted only through direct contact with infected body fluids.

At no time did any of Dr. Spencer’s fluids touch the quarterback. Still, he felt obligated to email his teammates and ask if they had a problem with his playing Sunday. All but one couple had no problem. If he played they wouldn’t, the couple wrote in an email to all team members save the quarterback. Without them the team had too few players to field a squad. They forfeited. Unless there’s a change of heart they’ll forfeit the last two games of the season, as well.

For sure, touch football is not on the same par of significance as the spread of Ebola. As I said earlier, caution, concern and sensitivity are required. Even if they were wrong, at least according to medical experts, the couple was entitled to express their feelings and act on them, regardless of how they affected the rest of the team.

But panic in the streets, at the airports, and on the ball fields must be balanced by attention to medical experts. Because of our federal/state system of government we lack a proper, uniform, central response to the challenge of Ebola containment, made all the more alarming because of the 24/7 media cycle in which we live. 

I don’t have an answer as to how we should react. But I worry about elected officials making decisions about science that are politically motivated. We’ve already seen some of their questionable (preposterous, actually) beliefs. Some continue to deny global warming. Or evolution. Or believe that a woman cannot become pregnant if raped. 

We live in the 21st century. Let’s start acting like we do. We are not living through a Stephen King novel. This is not the Middle Ages wracked by plague of unknown origin and remediation. 

From Nail-biting Addict to Football Enabler

Last week I confessed I was an addict, someone who bit his fingernails. Well, I think I’m over that nasty habit, at least for now. Thanks to some paper medical tape I found in our first aid kit I managed to cover my left pinkie long enough for the nail to grow back without awakening my desire to chew it off.

Today I’m admitting to an even more serious shortcoming—I’m an enabler. Like hundreds of millions of other Americans, and an increasing number of foreigners, I enjoy watching football. In other words, I condone and enable violence that I know will destroy an athlete’s health and the lives of his family because of repetitive brain trauma.

I’m like so many of the wives and girlfriends of football players keeping my mouth shut so I can enjoy Sunday afternoons, and now Sunday nights, and Monday nights, and Thursday nights. It’s a good thing I’m not into high school or college football or else I’d have no respite from sanctioned violence and have almost unlimited tutelage in how to behave badly toward women.

Did anyone else notice that during the halftime report of the New York Giants-Arizona Cardinals game on the Fox Network, the segue from each segment was a simulated stiff arm blasted into one’s face? How inappropriate given Ray Rice’s left hook to his then fiancée’s, now wife’s, face in that New Jersey casino elevator.

It’s our real-life version of The Hunger Games, or maybe a recreation of Roman gladiators, though the deaths of the participants are not as immediate.

Perhaps you’re thinking I’m being a bit too melodramatic, that football players voluntarily assume the risk. Of course, it wasn’t until last week, according to The New York Times, “that the National Football League, which for years disputed evidence that its players had a high rate of severe brain damage, has stated in federal court documents that it expects nearly a third of retired players to develop long-term cognitive problems and that the conditions are likely to emerge at ‘notably younger ages’ than in the general population.”

In The Daily News, Steve Almond, the author of “Against Football,” wrote, “Yes, of course these players are grown men (in most cases). And of course they choose to incur the risk of playing a violent game; the pros get paid a lot of money to do so. They also wear helmets and uniforms that help insulate them from damage, and that insulate us, the viewers, from the bone-rattling reality of collisions.

“That’s why we don’t view these acts as crimes. They are what sociologists call “sanctioned violence.” Fans consume these collisions without feeling that they are watching something barbaric. Indeed, they are regarded as necessary and even heroic in the context of the game, which is why television networks place parabolic microphones on the sidelines, and why they replay the most violent hits over and over again.

“But to the human brain—which is what’s at issue for football players—the context is irrelevant. At the neurological level, violence is violence. Trauma is trauma.

“Whether or not Roger Goodell can weather the storm and cling to his tenure as commissioner—and he has at least 44 million reasons to try (a reference to his $44 million paycheck last year)—the larger moral question that looms over him and the NFL and us fans is whether we should be consuming as a form of entertainment a sport whose end result is, in too many cases, permanent brain damage.”

Sadly, even though I question the morality of parents who invest their children in football programs given our current knowledge of the consequences, I still devote time to watching football, mostly my favorite team, the Giants, but other games as well when I have nothing better to watch. So, the bottom line is, I’m an enabler. 

Giant Bust: Am I a disloyal fan or just a realistic one? At this point in the season, two games in, it is obvious the Giants are not a good football team. The offensive line can’t open holes for the running backs. They don’t pass protect well, either. The quarterback is too prone to forcing his throws and incurring interceptions. The receivers are mediocre. The defense is okay on the run and pass but gives up too many big plays, especially on third down. Special teams are a liability. In short, rooting for the Giants is an exercise in hope and futility.

Last year I stayed loyal to the Giants and it cost me in my football pools. This year I am listening to my head, not my heart. Last week, for example, I picked Arizona to beat the Giants even with a backup quarterback starting for the Cardinals. The Giants didn’t disappoint: They fumbled twice in critical situations, once on a kick return near their goal line and another time near the Cardinal goal on what could have been a game-tying scoring drive; The defense gave up at least five first downs on penalties, resulting in at least seven points for Arizona. The special teams allowed a touchdown on a punt return. Receivers, including the normally sure-handed Victor Cruz, dropped numerous passes.

The only joy I had from watching the game was knowing I didn’t lose any money on the Giants. Though as a fan I would have preferred that outcome to seeing them go bust again.

Confessions of an Addict

Hello. My name is Murray and I am an addict.

I bite my nails. Actually, just one nail. The one on my left pinky.

I used to bite all my nails. For the first 28 years of my life I was a constant nail biter. My parents threatened to put hot peppers on my nails to discourage the habit. Even after reaching adulthood, even after marriage, I persisted in the pernicious practice.

But the first day on the job at the company where I would work for the next 32 years, I stopped cold turkey. I had gone to lunch with a few of my new co-workers and felt self-conscious they would think lesser of me if they saw my fingers. It’s now 37 years later, and only in the last several weeks has my smallest digit become tasty again.

That’s not quite right. I don’t have a craving for fingernail. I started biting the nail again because I didn’t have my trusty nail clipper with me and I needed to trim it. One bite led to another and before I knew it I had eaten away half my nail. Each time the nail begins to grow back I wind up picking at it and eating it again. I’ve tried wrapping it in band-aids but they fall off, exposing the delicate, delectable nail.

If this all sounds crazy, it is. It’s an addiction, after all, with no equivalent of Alcoholics Anonymous, Odyssey House or 12-step program to counsel me through my compulsion, though I did just google Nail Biters Anonymous and sure enough, other desperate souls have publicly humiliated themselves by revealing their nasty habit. 

I’m confident one of these days I will overcome it. I did, after all, do it once before, for all 10 digits. Until then, if you see me, please don’t stare at my left pinky.

There’s Hope for America: Gilda and I went to Croton Point Park to sit along the Hudson River Saturday afternoon. There was a large gathering of Pakistani families, many of the women dressed in traditional garb. 

A hundred yards away from their parents, some two dozen boys played football. No, I do not mean football as Pakistanis normally call soccer. I mean American football. They were playing an intense game of two-hand touch football.

Take that, those of you who predict soccer will supplant the great American sport.

No Lines: One of the pleasures of retirement is my ability to shop stores such as Costco during the week when lines are shorter than on weekends. But two weeks ago, as we were making our way up to Maine for a week-long family vacation, Gilda and I had to stop at the Nashua, NH, Costco Saturday afternoon during peak shopping hours to stock up on supplies. 

The parking lot was pretty full, yet when the time came to check out, we were pleasantly surprised to find two registers completely devoid of customers and just one or two shoppers deep at the other lanes. It was obvious we were not in Westchester.

Freak of Nature: My ophthalmologist basically told me I am a freak of nature. He had no explanation as to why my long distance vision is as good without glasses as with corrective lenses, as I reported to you in mid-July.

He did caution me, however, that if a policeman stopped me I better have my eyeglasses handy.

Another Sign of Our Enlightened Time: Back at Costco in New Rochelle I read the following on a Puma long sleeved, light weight Tee Shirt care label: “Wash this when dirty.” 

A Debt to Stephen Colbert, A Package from Restoration Hardware and Soccer-Mania

I’m indebted to Stephen Colbert, actually we all are, for putting into context the ascension of Josh Earnest to White House press secretary this week. Speaking last Thursday with Earnest’s predecessor, Jay Carney, Colbert noted that Josh Earnest had the perfect name for the job. “His name literally means ‘just kidding, but seriously,’” said Colbert.

I’ve been to Washington dozens of times but stepped inside the White House only once. I enjoyed a visit most do not experience. As a graduate journalism student in pre-Watergate early 1972, I gained entry to the West Wing and the press office as part of my research for a paper on pack journalism.  I interviewed several White House correspondents including Peter Lisagor of the Chicago Daily News and Robert Pierpoint of CBS. I had hoped to meet with Richard Nixon’s press secretary, Ron Ziegler, but he passed me off to one of his assistants whose name is lost to me and history. Years later Ziegler’s and my paths crossed again—Ziegler was head of the chain drug store association and I attended conferences he presented. 

The White House press room was rather drab back then. The offices of Ziegler’s staff also did not compare favorably to the more elaborate Hollywood versions we’ve grown accustomed to seeing on The West Wing and other portrayals of the seat of power of our government. 

I doubt I’ll ever gain entry to the press room again but it’s nice to recall walking through the gate on Pennsylvania Avenue up the circular driveway to the White House and going where relatively few have gone before and after. As I wrote once before, I even had the “pleasure” of getting a presidential wave from none other than Nixon himself. As I was leaving the White House Nixon was walking back from the next door Executive Office Building. He waved to me, and only me, as I was the only person on the White House grounds at the time. I waved back.

I wasn’t home when UPS dropped by, but we were overwhelmed by Restoration Hardware’s latest marketing effort. Nine, count ‘em, nine beautifully photographed and printed catalogs, a 3,300-page deluge of style and sophistication weighing a combined 11 pounds, 2 ounces. 

In case your home was spared, each catalog was themed: Furniture, Leather, Interiors, Small Spaces, Upholstery, Rugs, Linens, Bath and Lighting. In the past, the books arrived separately. Restoration Hardware claims sending the catalogs out in one batch was more environmentally friendly than separate shipments. 

Sorry to say, they’ll be recycled on Friday.

Soccer-mania, I’m also sorry to say, has not inhabited my being.  

Almost 30 years ago when Dan started playing youth soccer, and then matriculated to an all-star traveling team and then his high school varsity, there were predictions real football would sweep the nation and United States citizenry would come to appreciate the sport the rest of the world did. I didn’t buy it then and still don’t, except that with immigration bringing more foreigners, legal and illegal, to our shores there is bound to be more enthusiasm for soccer. 

American football has all those concussions to scare parents away, but heading a soccer ball or an opponent when both go up for a ball also produces concussions, so there’s no safety factor to sway allegiance to one sport over the other. 

Soccer, I’m afraid, will have no wider draw than hockey, which, I believe, is a much more exciting game and, to my knowledge, not tainted by allegations of game-fixing. 

Enjoy the World Cup while the frenzy lasts, and let’s hope the U.S. team beats or at least ties Germany Thursday. 

Spoiler Alert: The Winner of Super Bowl XLVIII ...

I haven't read articles predicting the outcome of Super Bowl XLVIII, I haven't checked the point spread though I should, considering I'm in a pool where I could win $250 if I guess right and my closest competition fumbles.

No matter. Here's my prognostication for Sunday night’s ultimate football contest. Long time readers of this blog might recall that I came eerily close to forecasting most details of the last few games, especially two years ago when the New York Giants defeated the New England Patriots.

So here goes. The Denver Broncos will take an early 6-0 lead over the Seattle Seahawks. A troublesome start as Denver could not pierce the end zone for a touchdown on their first two drives.

Seattle will convert an interception into a touchdown either on a run back or a short drive of less than 20 yards. The first quarter will end with Seattle ahead 7-6.

In the second quarter Denver quarterback Peyton Manning will throw a touchdown pass to Wes Welker. The first half will end with Seattle kicking a field goal to narrow the score to 13-10.

In the third quarter Seattle quarterback Russell Wilson will use his legs to drive the Seahawks to a 17-13 lead.

The fourth quarter will begin with a Denver field goal followed by a sustained Denver drive of 80-plus yards for a touchdown.

Denver's 23-17 lead will appear precarious as Wilson leads a long drive into Bronco territory, but with less than two minutes in the game Denver's defense will force a turnover, sealing a victory.

Having won the Super Bowl and been named the Most Valuable Player of the game, Manning will announce his retirement.

As I’ve written in the past, now you are free to concentrate on the commercials.

Anniversary's Over, Now Back to the News

Almost a week since my last post, not that there weren’t things to write about but I chose to take some quality time to enjoy a long family weekend celebration of Gilda’s and my 40th wedding anniversary which officially was Monday. This last year of our four decades together has been quite eventful—Ellie married Donny, and Donny started a new job; Dan and Allison produced their second child, Dagny, they moved into a new home and Allison started working outside the home again, as a kindergarten teacher in a town near their new residence; Gilda’s spine surgery medical practice shifted to a new hospital, Mount Sinai Medical Center in Manhattan; and I earned my real estate salesperson license. Lots of good things to be thankful for. 

The festivities over, time for some thoughts on current events ...

As the national debate on immigration reform is propelled forward by pronouncements from President Obama and a plan from a bi-partisan group of senators, I’m reminded of a Forseter family story of illegal entry into the United States by one of our cousins (for the record, my mother beat the quota in 1921 when she came from Poland, while my father arrived in 1939 from Poland, half a year before the start of World War II).

My father’s cousin Jack Fürsetzer snuck into New York in the early 1920’s, I believe. Hearing that a roundup of suspected illegal immigrants was about to happen, he asked around for a good place to hide. He was told Minnesota, so off he went to the hinterlands, settling in the Twin Cities area. He changed his name to Brushman. In the 1930s there was an amnesty for illegals, which explains why some of his six children have his assumed last name and some have his real last name. 

About 20 years ago I met with my cousins during one of my trips to Minneapolis, but sadly I did not keep up contact. ...

Immigration is but one of the hot topics being debated these days. Since the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School, gun control has been topic one. Sadly, during a forum last night in Hartford, pro-gun advocates heckled the father of one of the young victims as he called for stricter gun control measures. 

Even if tighter laws on guns, especially on assault rifles, are passed, the chances of a meaningful reduction in deadly firearms availability is unlikely. As Dave Ross explained in a recent commentary I heard on CBS Radio, gun runners are already passing along ideas on how to get around any potential ban. Read his short commentary: http://mynorthwest.com/813/2184540/Just-calmly-getting-ready ...

Less than a week to go before the Super Bowl, a time to ponder why we are so enthralled with watching athletes, from high school age through their late 30s, abuse their bodies in pursuit of glory and, at least on the professional level, financial gain, however fleeting that might be. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy watching my New York Giants as much as any fan relishes rooting on his or her preferred team. I will watch some pro games in which I have no rooting interest, mostly out of curiosity or lack of anything better to do. After all, I do want to be able to be up to date on trending sports news and conversation, even if I don’t have a water cooler to hang around at work. But given repeated revelations about the medical complications football bequeaths its behemoths, don’t you wonder why so many parents permit, nay even encourage, their children to take up a sport that will torment them for life, or possibly even lead to their suicide?

The other day, president Barack Obama indicated if he had a son he might not let him play football. It’s a sentiment expressed increasingly by many parents, including sportscaster Michael Kay on ESPN Radio. Kay and his wife recently celebrated the birth of their first child, a daughter. I remember when Dan was a tween and interested in catching a football in our yard, Gilda let him know in no uncertain terms he would not be permitted to play organized football. He pouted for a while, but soon got over it. 

He played soccer, instead. Goalie. During one game he blocked a hard, close-in shot with his head. Down he went. The game stopped as the referee and coaches tended to him. On the sidelines, Gilda had to be restrained from rushing out onto the field. In her frustration she asked, “What type of game is this where a mother can’t go out to her injured son?” Dan quickly recovered and finished the game, but Gilda rarely went to see him play soccer again. She did, however, enjoy watching him play Ultimate Frisbee. ...  

Want to be truly scared? I’m not talking some creepy Nightmare on Elm Street/Freddy Kruger horror flick. I’m talking real world, red and blue state election results. 

While Democrats savor Barack Obama’s second term, and his progressive inaugural address, there’s mayhem underfoot, as Republicans wax up their plans to put the skids on any future possibility of a Democratic president. In states where Republicans control the legislature and the governorship they are exploring changes in the way Electoral College votes are allocated. Here are two links worth taking the time to explore. Unless you’re a bedrock conservative, they'll have you quaking in your boots:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/24/republican-vote-rigging-electoral-college_n_2546010.htmlutm_source=DailyBrief&utm_campaign=012513&utm_medium=email&utm_content=FeatureTitle&utm_term=Daily%20Brief

http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/423163/january-23-2013/alpha-dog-of-the-week---virginia-state-senate-republicans?xrs=share_copy

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.

Who's to Blame and The Dems' Giant Problem

Here’s an example of what I just can’t seem to understand about the American electorate:

On the CBS Evening News with Scott Pelley Monday night, Chuck, an independent North Carolina voter, explained why he was volunteering to help elect Mitt Romney after working for Barack Obama in 2008. He lost his job as a salesman for a plastics company in 2009. He blamed Obama for making unspecified decisions that have left him unemployed since then. He blames Obama for losing his house and for being temporarily homeless. “I don’t feel I would have lost my career and so many others would be struggling if they would have made different decisions and our country was in a better state,” said the 46-year-old. 

He was obviously pained. Byron Pitts, the CBS News correspondent, pointed that out. But was Chuck kidding or just numbed by his experience? The economic stresses that cost him his job and home were deeply in play before Obama took office. Businesses rarely lay off salesmen if there’s a hope of getting fresh business. Yes, more people lost jobs after Obama was sworn in, but over the last 30 months there has been a net gain in jobs every month. 

Are Chuck and like-minded voters happy that even as corporate profits soar, even as they pile up cash, companies are not eager to hire back workers? Are they content to watch the earnings power of the working class and middle class erode as the corporate elite fatten their bank statements? Do they really believe in trickle down economics? Have they forgotten what adherence to that mantra meant during the Bush years? Have they not watched as Republicans in Congress stomped on any jobs initiative proposed by the president? 

Earlier in this campaign season it was explained that many hard-pressed workers don’t vote their wallets but rather vote their religious conscience. If they oppose abortion, they’d rather see a Republican in office because they would rather have the reward of a good hereafter than a good material life. But that doesn’t explain Chuck et al. I just don’t understand ...

Tackled: It is widely reported Democrats have the advantage among women and minorities. Republicans have more loyalty among white working class and middle class male voters. Last week Mitt Romney & Company tried to appeal to women. This week the Democrats hope not only to solidify their appeal to women and minorities but also to change some minds among the GOP-leaning faithful and independents, especially those men. Wednesday night they will feature Elizabeth Warren, candidate for Senate from Massachusetts and the architect of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and former president Bill Clinton. Clinton is sure to wow the audience in Charlotte and for that matter, many who tune in to the convention coverage.

Only problem is, many of those desired white male voters will not be watching. They will be glued to their TV sets taking in the season opener of the new National Football League season pitting the Super Bowl champion New York Giants against their arch-rival, the Dallas Cowboys. The game will be carried on NBC, so forget about seeing Brian Williams and Tom Brokaw provide live convention coverage and analysis. Warren and Clinton will be speaking from 10 to 11 pm, during what probably will be the third quarter of the game. Even a lopsided score at that time won’t drive viewers away from the gridiron. 

Women might seek refuge from the football game to watch the convention speeches. Perhaps Warren and Clinton might swing some more of them into the Democratic column. In a tight race, that could offset the wattage lost by having Democratic star power tackled by a Giants-Cowboys football game. 

Marvin Traub, Beach Bums, Sex, Norman Sas and Obama

Hail and Farewell to the Prince: I met the indefatigable Marvin Traub several times, while he was head of Bloomingdale’s and during the last 20 years when he was thought to be too old to run the trendsetting Upper East Side emporium and started his own international consulting company. He was a paragon of the “retailing is theater” school, perhaps its greatest practitioner, a merchant prince who captivated a generation of shoppers and thereby transformed a sleepy, discount-oriented department store propped between Lexington and Third Avenues in Manhattan into an essential stop by every New York visitor including royalty, show biz luminaries, and everyday gawkers from around the United States and the world.

Traub died Wednesday. He was 87. The obituary in The NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/12/business/marvin-s-traub-who-made-bloomingdales-a-home-of-style-dies-at-87.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all) did not come close to revealing the magnetic personality and command Traub had on retailing and pop culture, especially on New York City. When the city teetered on the brink of bankruptcy in the mid 1970s, when the city dangled perilously close to lawlessness in the 1980s, Bloomingdale’s shone as a beacon of cache and refinement. There were many New Yorkers, including one of my staff writers, who made Bloomie’s a daily must-visit. 

There are comparatively few retail geniuses at work today, men and women with ideas and visions that transformed the buying and selling of goods. Eugene Ferkauf, who founded E.J. Korvettes and modern discounting, died a few weeks ago. Traub was among that pantheon of leaders. 

Passing The Times: Our daughter Ellie and her husband-to-be Donny are trendsetters. At least as far as knowing which beach to sun and surf at. They discovered Fort Tilden beach in Queens a good four years before The Times named it “one of New York’s great hidden beaches” a few weeks ago. Kinda disappointing The Times didn’t include them in any of the 14 photos that accompanied the article, though I might have been a little taken aback if Ellie showed up as one of those beachgoers who “go topless.”

You never know where or when your past will intrude on your present. Reading through the Letters to the Editor of last Saturday’s Times I came upon a short note from Ira Sohn reacting to an opinion piece from Bill Keller advocating a national ID card. I’ll pass on the desirability of such a card. I was more interested in Ira Sohn. If he’s the Ira Sohn I think he is, we attended high school together in Brooklyn, Yeshivah of Flatbush, graduating in 1966. Our senior class secretary, Ira Sohn is a professor in the economics and finance department of Montclair State University. 

Sleepy Head: Whenever I would yawn in front of my mother she’d call me “sleepy head” and suggest, “You’d be less tired if you didn’t fool around at night, but then you wouldn’t have as much fun.” 

She must have been onto something, if a survey published in the NY Daily News is a true indicator of national behavior. Seems an online study of 1,000 people commissioned by Trojans, the condom maker, has found New Yorkers have five times as much sex as the average in 10 major cities across the nation (http://www.nydailynews.com/whoopee-city-tops-sex-survey-article-1.1113403). 

For what it’s worth, while I could believe there’s more action in the Big Apple, I don’t believe the rest of the country lags so far behind. 

Speaking of Action and having fun, one of the best games of my 1950s-early 1960s childhood was electric football, a precursor to today’s video game versions of mayhem on the gridiron. The inventor of electric football, Norman Sas, died last month. He, too, was 87. Younger readers might not know about electric football, but those of us of a certain age remember it fondly and with some degree of exasperation when your felt-bottomed players failed to go in the direction you wanted them to. Here’s the obit on Norman Sas: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/13/business/norman-sas-inventor-of-electric-football-dies-at-87.html

Communicator-in-Chief: Teasers for a Charlie Rose interview of Barack and Michelle Obama airing Sunday night on 60 Minutes have the president saying, "The mistake of my first term—couple of years—was thinking that this job was just about getting the policy right. And that's important. But the nature of this office is also to tell a story to the American people that gives them a sense of unity and purpose and optimism, especially during tough times."

Wrong. We did not need another Reagan in the White House. We needed another LBJ, someone who could whip recalcitrant Democrats into line and even pull some Republicans into the fold to pass legislation this country needed. Instead, we got a hands-off chief executive who naively believed Republicans were joking when they said their main task during his presidency would be to make sure it lasted just four years. He naively believed they would put country first, would work with him. So he wound up squandering Democratic majorities in the House and Senate during his first two years in office. 

He’s too laid back for the fight he is in. He needs to be more Harry S. Truman, less Jimmy Carter. He needs to show he wants to be our leader. Tell us stories if you want to Mr. President, but don’t forget to tell us what you will do in the next four years and ram home what benefits and programs Mitt Romney would remove if he gets to sit behind that desk in the Oval Office. 

  

A Mother's Vindication and Muscle Bound

A Mother’s Vindication: Gilda doesn’t normally read the sports pages, but she sent me an article the other day that must have found its way onto the most emailed list of The NY Times. The article recounted how many parents, including professional and retired athletes, are reticent about allowing their children to play football because of the fear of injury, especially head injury. 

“How nice that people are coming to these conclusions about football 30 years after I said I would never allow Dan to play!,” she wrote in a note to Dan and me accompanying the article (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/21/sports/football/with-fears-about-safety-football-faces-uncertain-evolution.html?_r=1). 

Can’t say I fault her for crowing and being clairvoyant.

The article even quoted Hall of Fame quarterback and football analyst Terry Bradshaw predicting within 10 years football would be “eclipsed in popularity by soccer and other sports.”

Of course, playing soccer is no guarantee a child will be injury-free and mothers will be worry-free. Case in point: Dan played on a travel all-star soccer team from the time he was nine years old. Except for most of that first fall season, he was the goalie, which was rather startling as he was a less than determined player when he played defense. You might say he was the most accommodating defender there ever was. If the ball was between him and a player from another team, his politeness gene kicked in. He deferred to his foe, giving him free rein to kick the ball to the goal. 

As soon as Dan was shifted to goalkeeper late that first all-star season, he underwent a transformation. Perhaps it was realizing he was the last line of defense, Dan became downright protective of his space. He would fling his body towards the ball, even running headlong into an advancing forward. He did not give up goals lightly. One weekend tournament he played four games before the coaches realized he had fractured his wrist. His team won all four of those games.

At another tournament when Dan was around 12, this one attended by Gilda as well, an opponent took a shot from about 30 feet away. Screened on the play, Dan nevertheless made the save—with his face. Down he went. Play stopped as his teammates and coaches gathered around his dazed body. 

Standing on the sidelines, Gilda’s maternal instincts took over. She started to rush onto the field, but was restrained by the referees. To no avail she cried out, “What kind of game is this where a parent can’t run to her injured son?” Dan recovered soon enough and completed the game. His team won that one, too.

Muscle Bound: Ever been to Muscle Beach, that stretch of surf and sand in Venice, Calif., made famous by body builders including Arnold Schwarzenegger? I have, though a look at my frame would not immediately conjure up images of muscles. The closest I’ve come to enjoying muscles is partaking some steamed mussels along with a basket of crisp French fries, otherwise known as moules et frites. But I digress.

A front page article in The Times the other day brought to light the concerns of Venetians that their honky-tonk world is under threat. Seems Google, and even the ex-guv Arnold himself, might be buying up properties to reshape the terrain away from street people, body builders, drop-outs, skateboarders, medical marijuana dispensaries and the homeless (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/20/us/bodybuilders-flinch-at-googles-venice-beach-incursion.html). 

Gilda and I have been to Venice Beach, just down the way from Santa Monica, several times, but it was only during our most recent trip to California, last November as part of the time we spent in Los Angeles for our nephew Ari’s wedding, that we opted to stay at the Venice Beach Suites and Hotel, in a third floor room overlooking the boardwalk and beach. It was lovely watching the setting sun from our window. I wouldn’t say we were fearful of the street people. Cautious would be a better word. We’re generally adventurous tourists, but quite content to say “been there, done that” once the experience is over. I doubt we will rebook a room on Venice Beach.

That Other Manning

From Manning to Manning: The focus over the last few days has been on Eli Manning, with a little bit of spotlight on big brother Peyton and father Archie. When football and the Super Bowl are national, even international extravaganzas, it’s hard to escape the klieg lights and camera lenses, especially after you’ve engineered your second upset victory over the New England Patriots in the waning seconds of a nail-biting game, as Eli did on Sunday for the once again champion New York Giants.

But our collective attention as a nation and as a member of the family of nations might be better focused on that other Manning, Bradley Manning. He’s not a football player, not an NFL quarterback like the other Mannings. He’s not, as far as I know, related to Eli and his family.

For those who might have forgotten, Bradley Manning is the U.S. Army soldier suspected of providing hundreds of thousands of documents to the whistleblower website WikiLeaks. Pfc. Manning is to face a court martial shortly for his alleged transgression.

Some label Bradley a hero, even going so far as to suggest he deserves a Nobel Peace Prize. Others call him a traitor for revealing classified government documents. Whatever your take on his alleged actions, there is no doubt publication by WikiLeaks of government secrets has enlightened the dialogue about our foreign affairs in a fashion not seen since publication of the Pentagon Papers revealed the behind the scenes drama that led to U.S. involvement in Vietnam and the loss of more than 58,000 America servicemen.

With all the facts not yet available, Bradley Manning is a figure to be neither prematurely reviled nor celebrated. But it is certain that the disposition of his court martial, and any subsequent action by or against WikiLeaks, will have a more lasting effect on our country and the world than Eli Manning’s triumphant march up the gridiron, no matter how exhilarated he made Giants fans feel and how sad he left Patriots fans.


The Blame Game: As the Giants and their fans celebrated through the Canyon of Heroes in lower Manhattan and later at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey today, it is worth remembering the Super Bowl easily could have been won by the Patriots. Equally worth consideration is the fame or shame that can rest on one’s shoulders, drawn there in an instant or taken away in a nanosecond.

Mario Manningham is being hailed for making “the catch” that helped transport the Giants to victory. Yet, had Big Blue not won, he easily could have been blamed for two muffed catches that prevented New York from getting within scoring distance. Five minutes before his claim-to-fame 38-yard catch, Super Mario failed to stay in bounds on a 28-yard heave from Eli Manning that would have given the Giants a first down inside the Pats’ five yard line. He was criticized by TV commentator Chris Collingsworth for repeatedly running too close to the sidelines throughout his career.

Earlier in the game, late in the second quarter, Manningham ran a deep post pattern. He did not catch a ball Manning put within his reach, right above his head. He whiffed on the ball with his left hand and couldn’t bring it in with his right. The Giants had to punt and New England quarterback Tom Brady then led his team to a go-ahead touchdown with eight seconds left in the first half.

With his spectacular catch on the Giants’ last drive, Manningham went from bum to hero. Such are the vagaries of sports.

But that doesn’t make me comprehend how any fan or member of the press could hang the loss by New England on Brady, as has been reported. Giselle Bundchen, Brady’s supermodel wife, might have been indelicate in how she said it after the game, but it's true his receivers let the team down. Wes Welker, Deion Branch and Aaron Hernandez should have caught four passes that were in their hands, two missed catches on each of the last two possessions. They weren't all picture perfect passes but they were good enough to be caught 98% of the time. These quality receivers, however, dropped 100% of them. And as I wrote Monday, had Rob Gronkowski's ankle been better he could have pushed off of it and dove for the tipped last-play-of-the-game-Hail-Mary-pass. I believe he would have caught it.

If you're going to blame Brady for anything it would be the blocked third down pass by Jason Pierre-Paul that forced the Pats to take a field goal in the second quarter, especially since the announcers said they had practiced the need for Brady to get the ball over the pass rushers. The four-point difference between a field goal and a touchdown with point after was the difference in the game. You could also fault him for the early first quarter safety, but New England had plenty time to recover from that two-point faux pas.

It’s important to remember football is a team sport. Individuals make key contributions, both negative and positive, but unlike sports such as singles tennis, boxing, golf, skiing, and most track & field events, one side wins because of the collective effort of a team. As Giselle said, "My husband cannot f--king throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time. I can't believe they dropped the ball so many times."


Gimme Some R-e-s-p-e-c-t, Part II: On January 25, 2011, I commented on a NY Times story of a few days earlier about ideas to rejuvenate suburbia. One suggestion was to transform “dead” malls into downtown areas that could be enjoyed by an increasingly aging society.

Not much has changed in a year, which puzzled me as to why on February 6, 2012, The Times chose to focus once more on the plight of shopping centers during these economically stressed times (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/06/business/making-over-the-mall-in-rough-economic-times.html?_r=1). Aside from a snappy front page headline, “How About Gardening or Golfing at the Mall?”, there really was nothing new in this story.

Which means I once again can tell you that 16 years ago I editorialized in my magazine that excess shopping center space should be converted to alternate uses including turning the square footage into senior citizens apartments, low or moderate income housing, community centers, and my personal favorite, low-risk detention centers.

Stay tuned for next year’s edition...

Bragging Rights

So, did you like the Super Bowl commercials?

I found most of them insipid, inane, tasteless, misogynist, lacking creativity. For way too many I wondered what product or service the advertiser was trying to pitch. My favorite was the Doritos ad of the dog that buried the family cat and bribes the owner to keep silent with a bag of chips.

Okay, I can’t contain myself any longer. It’s time to review my Super Bowl prognostications against the reality of the football game. I said last Tuesday:

Tom Brady and the New England Patriots will employ a no-huddle offense from the beginning of the game in an effort to tire the most dominant part of the New York Giants defense, its pass rush. Only if the Pats take a lead will Brady revert to a traditional huddle offense. NAILED IT!

As this year New England has mostly thrown short passes, early on the Pats will attempt some deep pass patterns in an effort to loosen up the planned tight Giants pass coverage. BRADY’S FIRST PASS, UNDER PRESSURE FROM THE END ZONE, WAS A BOMB, FOR BOTH THE PATRIOTS AND THE GIANTS. FOR THE PATS, IT WAS AN INCOMPLETION. FOR THE GIANTS IT RESULTED IN A TWO-POINT SAFETY AS THE PASS WAS RULED INTENTIONAL GROUNDING.

The Giants have been victimized by the long ball all year, including the NFC championship game against the San Francisco 49ers, so Brady will try to land some bombs. BRADY THREW SEVERAL BOMBS, CONNECTING ON NONE, INCLUDING THE HAIL-MARY-PASS-LAST-PLAY-OF-THE-GAME, THE BALL INTERCEPTED BY CHASE BLACKBURN INTENDED FOR ROB GRONKOWSKI, THE DROP BY WES WELKER, AND THE OVERTHROW ON THE PLAY NEAR THE END OF THE GAME WHEN THE GIANTS WERE FLAGGED FOR 12 MEN ON DEFENSE.

Also look for the Patriots to throw more than a usual amount of passes to running backs as top tight end Rob Gronkowski will play at less than optimum level because he will not have sufficiently recovered from a high left ankle sprain sustained during the AFC championship game against the Baltimore Ravens. GRONKOWSKI OBVIOUSLY COULD NOT COMPETE EFFECTIVELY. HAD HE BEEN ABLE TO PUSH OFF HIS ANKLE HE MIGHT WELL HAVE CAUGHT THE DEFLECTED HAIL MARY PASS. SURPRISINGLY, THE PATRIOTS DID NOT EMPLOY SCREEN PASSES BUT THEY DID THROW TO THEIR RUNNING BACKS SIX TIMES FOR 57 YARDS AND A TOUCHDOWN.

Half-time score: Giants 10, Patriots 7. CLOSE. IT WAS PATRIOTS 10, GIANTS 9.

Contrary to popular thinking that the Giants will be pass-happy against a less than highly regarded Patriot pass defense, the Giants will work early to establish a bruising running game. Ahmad Bradshaw and Brandon Jacobs will anchor a running attack that will rack up at least 130 yards. THE GIANTS RAN 28 TIMES (VS. 40 PASSES) FOR 114 YARDS. THEY HAD A 10 YARD RUN BY BRANDON JACOBS NULLIFIED BY A HOLDING PENALTY. OTHERWISE, THEY SURELY WOULD HAVE MET MY EXPECTATIONS.

Tight ends will play a big part in the New York offense, at least 6 catches. BINGO. BEAR PASCO CAUGHT 4 PASSES FOR 33 YARDS; JAY BALLARD TWO PASSES FOR 10 YARDS.

Eli Manning will throw one touchdown pass to Hakeem Nicks. RIGHT ON THE NUMBER, WRONG ON THE PLAYER. IT WENT TO VICTOR CRUZ.

Bradshaw will score on a six-yard run. PERFECTO. RIGHT DOWN TO THE YARD MARKER. IT MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN PRETTY, BUT IT WAS THE GAME-WINNING TOUCHDOWN.

The Giants will have to settle for three field goals from inside the red zone as the much-maligned Patriot defense stiffens inside the 20 yard line. THE PATRIOT DEFENSE DID INDEED STIFFEN INSIDE THE RED ZONE, FORCING THE GIANTS TO TAKE TWO FIELD GOALS.

Brady will be sacked in the end zone for a safety. IT WASN’T OFFICIALLY LABELED A SACK, BUT JUSTIN TUCK FORCED BRADY TO INTENTIONALLY GROUND THE BALL, RESULTING IN A SAFETY.

He’ll also be stuffed on a fourth down quarterback sneak late in the first half or the game. BRADY NEVER TRIED A FOURTH DOWN SNEAK.

Final score: Giants 25, Patriots 17. I WAS RIGHT THE PATS WOULD SCORE 17 POINTS. I MISSED THE GIANTS TOTAL. THEY SCORED JUST 21 POINTS.

MVP: Ahmad Bradshaw. WELL, I THOUGHT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO EASY TO SAY ELI MANNING WOULD BE THE MVP. NEXT TIME I’LL PICK THE SURE THING.

Now that you know the outcome of the game, you can relax and concentrate on the commercials. SEE ABOVE.

Super Bowl Crystal Ball

It was media day of Super Bowl week in Indianapolis today. I am not an accredited journalist for the ultimate football game of the year, nor did I go out of my way to listen to the drivel emanating from the heartland about the Super Bowl. But I will give you my prognostications about the contest between the New York Giants and the New England Patriots.

Tom Brady and the Patriots will employ a no-huddle offense from the beginning of the game in an effort to tire the most dominant part of the Giants defense, its pass rush. Only if the Pats take a lead will Brady revert to a traditional huddle offense.

As this year New England has mostly thrown short passes, early on the Pats will attempt some deep pass patterns in an effort to loosen up the planned tight Giants pass coverage. The Giants have been victimized by the long ball all year, including the NFC championship game against the San Francisco 49ers, so Brady will try to land some bombs.

Also look for the Patriots to throw more than a usual amount of passes to running backs as top tight end Rob Gronkowski will play at less than optimum level because he will not have sufficiently recovered from a high left ankle sprain sustained during the AFC championship game against the Baltimore Ravens.

Half-time score: Giants 10, Patriots 7.

Contrary to popular thinking that the Giants will be pass-happy against a less than highly regarded Patriot pass defense, the Giants will work early to establish a bruising running game. Ahmad Bradshaw and Brandon Jacobs will anchor a running attack that will rack up at least 130 yards.

Tight ends will play a big part in the New York offense, at least 6 catches. Eli Manning will throw one touchdown pass to Hakeem Nicks; Bradshaw will score on a six-yard run.

The Giants will have to settle for three field goals from inside the red zone as the much-maligned Patriot defense stiffens inside the 20 yard line.

Brady will be sacked in the end zone for a safety. He’ll also be stuffed on a fourth down quarterback sneak late in the first half or the game.

Final score: Giants 25, Patriots 17.

MVP: Ahmad Bradshaw.

Now that you know the outcome of the game, you can relax and concentrate on the commercials.

Are You Ready For Some Football

Now that ESPN’s Monday Night Football broadcast has been circumcised of any openly bigoted celebrities (thank you, Hank Williams Jr., for making it kosher to view America’s favorite sport without feeling too guilty about tuning in to redneck country), let’s turn our attention to a post-mortem on the untimely demise of our, or at least my, favorite team, the NY Yankees. I’ll try not to repeat what others have said or written.

* Right off the bat (don’t you just love that pun), I’ll violate my last sentence—the Yanks didn’t lose to the Detroit Tigers 3-2 last night because of their pitching. They lost because of the Tigers pitching. They lost because they didn’t hit, not just in the last game but throughout most of the first round playoff series. With few exceptions they did not hit with men in scoring position, and since the name of the game in baseball is to score more than your opponent in each game, not collectively throughout a series, they lost. Blame, and yes, in this case there is blame, Alex Rodriguez, Mark Teixeira, Nick Swisher, and even Derek Jeter. Robinson Cano, as well, came up short, like Jeter's fly ball to the wall in the eighth inning last night, when it really mattered, when runners were on base, except that one time in Game One when he hit a grand slam. Yes, Cano hit a solo home run yesterday, but he made out earlier in the game with two runners on.
* Some players are great during the regular season but wilt during the post-season. That’s been the pattern for years—at bat, not in the field—for A-Rod, Teixeira and Swisher. There’s no predicting how a player will perform in the playoffs, so let’s not bury these guys. Mope and hiss, but keep in mind, the difficult part of any season is making the playoffs. Only four teams make it from each league; these players have helped the Yanks continue their exemplary record of qualifying for 16 out of the last 17 years. Remarkable.
* A-Rod’s prowess at bat is diminishing. Watching A-Rod over the remaining seven years of his contract will be a flashback to watching Mickey Mantle in the twilight of his Hall of Fame career, only fewer people idolize A-Rod so his failures will be less tolerated.
* Jorge Posada showed he still can be a big-game player. He led all starters with a.429 playoff batting average. It will be sad to see him on another team next year. I was rooting for him to cap his Yankee career by smacking a tying home run in the eighth inning last night.
* Ron Darling and John Smoltz, TNT color commentators last night, made a point of saying the electronic image of a pitch was not accurate. So why bother showing it? It grossly frustrates fans when pitches clearly outside the strike zone on the graphic are called strikes against your team and balls when your pitcher throws them, or when your pitcher throws the ball inside the box and it's called a ball.
* The disappointment of unfulfilled expectations will linger for months, soothed by just one thought—The Yankees made it to the playoffs, the Boston Red Sox did not. Now, onto watching the NY Giants. My expectations going into this football season were low, so my pleasure at how well they play (they’re already 3-1) will be boundless. Unless they make it to the playoffs, at which time I’ll be crushed if they fail to win the Super Bowl.

Passing Hail Mary

With the clock ticking down the final seconds of a close game, a trailing football team often resorts to a last-ditch scoring effort. The quarterback fades back and lofts toward the end zone a long, arcing “Hail Mary” pass, so named because it will take an answered prayer to succeed in overturning a seemingly inevitable loss.

With his address to the nation in front of a joint session of Congress Thursday night, Barack Obama is about to launch a Hail Mary pass, aptly timed to coincide with the opening night of the new National Football League season after a spring and half-summer of labor-management unrest and ultimate compromise.

Unlike the owners and players who worked out a deal to get the games going again, there is no realistic partner to work with Obama. Despite vague language from some Republicans about the need to stimulate the economy to jumpstart more hirings, anyone who believes the president and the GOP/Tea Party will reach a fair, equitable and non-acrimonious settlement also believes the Cincinnati Bengals will hoist the Lombardi Trophy at the conclusion of the next Super Bowl.

Obama’s ratings are lower than a quarterback who throws more interceptions than completions, who fumbles the snap before he can hand off to a running back. Even a rookie presidential candidate, the nationally untested governor of Texas, Rick Perry, beats Obama in a head to head contest, 44% to 41%, according to a new Rasmussen poll.

The president’s Thursday night speech will define his intentions over the next 14 months. He will either involuntarily concede his impotence by tossing out an often repeated and unaccepted pitch for bi-partisan compromise, or he will morph into a chief executive with backbone by staking out an irreversible battle plan to rekindle the passion of those who supported him in 2008.

He has shown an inability to connect with Republicans. So why bother extending an olive branch. They’d only reject it. How often must he be humiliated? When push comes to shove, they’ll corner Obama and the Democrats into accepting their cuts, their budget, on their terms, which means no tax increases for the wealthy, continued loopholes for the rich and corporations, no viable plan to energize job growth except by reducing or eliminating consumer and environmental protections.

If Obama recognizes, at long last, the GOP prevent defense, he can perhaps salvage his re-election drive by forcefully decoding the X’s and O’s that differentiate the Republican agenda from his own. He shouldn’t be afraid to use tables, charts and graphs (a la Ross Perot and even Michele Bachmann) to illustrate how under Republican stewardship the nation’s working and middle classes suffered while the rich benefited, and how more of the same could be expected should they succeed in the next election.

Don’t think for a moment a measured tone in the well of the Congress will accrue civility and points from the opposition. Obama can and must use this forum to get the attention of Congress and the American people that he intends to fight for the welfare of the country as a whole, not for an elite, special interest minority.

He needs to convincingly detail how supporting GM and Chrysler when they were bankrupt saved the American automobile industry, how millions of jobs were saved, from the small shop that supplies new car mats to the huge plant that makes car batteries. He needs to push for jobs to rebuild infrastructure, for teachers to educate future generations.

Republicans already label him a deficit spender. He needs to reassuringly explain why short term debt is necessary to rebuild an economy shattered by two wars started by a Republican president, by that president’s profligate Medicare drug reimbursement plan, by that president’s eight year reign of terror on government oversight of the financial markets that led to the current woes on Wall Street and around the world.

Does he have it in him? Does he have the arm to reach the end zone? Hail Mary passes seldom work, but when they do they can be a game changer, turning a loser into a winner. Obama has nothing to lose by playing offense. Indeed, it’s his only hope of reaching the end zone—securing four more years in a residence paid for by The American taxpayer.

Rich People Scrimmage

In the labor dispute between millionaires and billionaires, otherwise known as the scrimmage between professional football players and the National Football League over who will win the right to be richer, it’s hard for some to figure out where to place one’s sympathies.

It might help to keep several points in mind:

To my knowledge, no owner has a physical limitation on how many years he or she can possess a team. Nor has any owner ever risked his livelihood every time he steps out onto the playing field. Players, on the other hand, are like Roman gladiators—sooner, more often than later, their careers on the gridiron (and earnings power) come to an ignoble end.

To my knowledge, no owner ever suffered lifelong chronic body pain from their association with football. No owner ever experienced dementia, or became suicidal, because of repeated hits to the head.

To my knowledge, no owner has ever been dropped by his team because he didn't produce a winning season.

To my knowledge, no player ever uprooted (or threatened to uproot) a team from one city because another municipality promised him the world.

To be sure, players are not saints (even if they play for New Orleans). They can be abusive. Infantile. Spoiled. Selfish. Demented. Petty. Perverted. Predatory. Stupid. Plus more negative traits than I care to list. But they are the “show.” They are the reason fans pack stadiums, gather at bars and make TV ratings soar every weekend.

Owners treat them like interchangeable parts. In many cases they are (even Tom Brady was competently replaced two years ago after he was injured), so there’s all the more reason for the players to try to squeeze out as large a pay and benefit package as they can during their careers.

In a previous blog I related my outlook is generally pro-union. I see no reason to shift that position when it comes to football.

Passionless Play

I can’t generate any passion for today’s Super Bowl.

I’ve studiously avoided reading any stories about the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers over the last two weeks, which might explain my indifference to the game. As a NY Giants fan, I really can’t get too worked up about the championship contest tonight.

Oh sure, I guess I could be anti-Green Bay because the Packers beat the Giants late in the season and kept them out of the playoffs by winning the following week against the Chicago Bears. But I hold no animosity against the Pack. The Giants really didn’t deserve a better fate considering how haphazardly they played this season.

As for the Steelers, I give them some points for knocking off the despised NY Jets, but is there any reason to embrace a team led by a quarterback who can’t control his testosterone and a linebacker who revels in injuring his foes with helmet-first tackles?

I’ll probably watch the game, and commercials, but it matters little to me who wins the Lombardi Trophy. For the record, I predict Pittsburgh will bring home the hardware in a tightly fought 21-17 game, with Green Bay thwarted on a last minute drive within 20 yards of a winning touchdown.

What the Packers and the Steelers do evoke are memories of my emergence as a football fan. I had been vaguely aware of football in the late 1950s, but didn’t really get into the game until I was 12, when Y.A. Tittle joined the Giants as their quarterback in 1961. I think I rooted for Tittle because he was mostly bald. He looked like my father, and since Dad was in no way an athlete, or shared any rooting passion for any sport with me, Tittle provided a small measure of transmutation. It didn’t hurt that Tittle was a very good quarterback on a successful, winning team.

The Giants played the Packers for the NFL championship in 1961 and 1962, losing both times in bitter cold, first in Green Bay and then at Yankee Stadium. I was able to watch the Packers demolish the Giants 37-0 in Green Bay, but the following year’s 16-7 loss was blacked out in New York. It was the custom back then that even if a game sold out, the NFL imposed a 90-mile blackout on any TV transmissions. My 17-year-old brother Bernie, (a Giants fan at the time, now a Washington Redskins fanatic) and his friends traveled to Philadelphia to view the game. It was a sad ride home, made all the more unbearable, Bernie reports, because the car’s heater stopped working.

After playing the championship game again in 1963, this time losing to the Chicago Bears 14-10 in another frigid contest, the Giants began a protracted period of ineptitude. From three straight trips to the ultimate game, their record tumbled to 2-10-2 in 1964. They wouldn’t make it to the championship game, now dubbed the Super Bowl, until 1986 (they won, their first of three Super Bowl titles).

Tittle retired after the 1964 season, but not before losing a heartbreaker—and body breaker—game in Pittsburgh, 27-24. Late in the game, he was hit as he threw by Steeler defensive end John Baker. The pass was intercepted and run back for a touchdown. A dazed Tittle, helmet off, sat on his knees near the end zone, his hands on his thighs, blood streaming down the left side of his face. He had suffered a concussion and a broken sternum. The picture of the defeated Tittle is considered one of the iconic sports photos of all time (http://store.post-gazette.com/divinity-cart/item/P265/Y.A.-Tittle-Photo/1.html).

Random Thoughts

Less for More: The Commerce Department reported this morning retail sales rose 0.4% in August, a better than expected showing, indicating consumer spending and the economy might be firmer than originally thought. Among the sectors of the retail industry said to be doing well are dollar stores, department stores and warehouse clubs.

I can vouch for the warehouse clubs. I’m a big Costco shopper, but I did notice one troubling change in the retailer’s merchandise offering. In case you’re not aware of it, bathroom tissue—toilet paper, in the more common vernacular—is among the best sellers at Costco. A bundle of Charmin Ultra Soft contains 30 rolls. But the Charmin rolls now being sold are just 173.2 sq. ft. long, down 7.6% from the 187.5 sq. ft. of two months ago. The price, however, has not gone down. It’s gone up, by 50 cents (2.6%) to $19.99.

Costco is not alone in practicing a strategy of reduced content. Indeed, it’s most often the supplier that makes the decision to package less product (e.g., that 13 oz. can of Maxwell House coffee is history; it now holds just 11.5 oz.). Some companies are honest enough to reduce the container, thus alerting the buyer to the switch. Most, however, just give you less for your money. They usually couch their actions by claiming less product is preferable to higher shelf prices.

Of course it’s a bogus claim, since the actual price per unit goes up. They just assume most consumers will be too dumb or indifferent to notice their wallets are being wiped clean.


Sports Break: There’s no better way to watch a football game than to pre-record it. You can zip through commercials and, more importantly, minimize the air time of the inane announcers (this also works for baseball games. Just remember to record the show following any game as extra innings, overtime, or just slow execution usually means the game runs longer than the allotted broadcast time. You don’t want to miss out on that, hopefully, exciting finish).

When I began following football in the early 1960s, I used to watch the NY Giants on TV with the sound off (sorry Chris Schenkel) while listening to the radio broadcast of the game. Marty Glickman did the WNEW Radio play by play, Al DeRogatis the color commentary. DeRo analyzed the action and often predicted what the next play would be. One of the worst losses in Giants football history was the day in 1968 NBC tapped DeRogatis as the color analyst for its national broadcasts.

It’s generally agreed football is more action-packed than baseball. Each game takes roughly three hours to complete. Yet, if you do a time and motion study of the average nine inning baseball game and four quarter football game, they contain about the same amount of real playing time, about 15 minutes. That’s leaves about two hours and forty-five minutes spent thinking about what pitch to throw, meeting in the huddle, television timeouts for commercials, and changes of sides each half inning and football quarter.

In other words, you can save about two hours of your life by recording a baseball or football game and watching it later. As long as you keep yourself in a media blackout, your pleasure will be sustained. During last year’s World Series, I set the DVR to record Game 3 and told my dinner companions I was on a media blackout. One of them didn’t hear, as she cheerfully informed me on the drive home she just checked her Blackberry and the Yankees were winning 6-2 (on the way to an 8-5 victory over the Philadelphia Phillies). Needless to say, I was more than a little upset. But at least the Yanks were winning.

I’m not too sure about this year. After the Yanks’ fourth straight loss (and third walk-off loss during this road trip) and their displacement from first place by the Tampa Bay Rays, I’m not too confident about their chances in the post-season. They just don’t seem to be a team of destiny this year. Suspect starting pitching and nagging injuries might do them in. Plus, their batters seem to go through sustained cold spells. After being super in August, Mark Teixeira is back to his early season funk. Derek Jeter is decidedly not Derek Jeter these last two months. And Robinson Cano has lost his batting eye discipline.

Getting back to football, I thought the Giants-Carolina Panthers game was as professional as watching two junior varsity teams play. It’s a long season. Hopefully Giants receivers will hold onto more balls and the offensive line and running backs will show more life. The defense, however, looked decent. But they were going up against a less than great quarterback. This Sunday against Peyton Manning will be more instructive.


Evidence suggests that hummingbirds have returned to White Plains. But I’ve yet to have a sighting.

White Plains is a stopover on their migration south for the winter, so I put out the red liquid food in late August. The nectar keeps dropping in the bottle, but so far not one hummingbird has chosen to hover when I’m around.

I’m getting lots of other birds dropping by the birdseed feeders even though I stopped the handouts about two months ago when coyotes started prowling the neighborhood. About 5 am I heard one or more coyotes howling (don’t ask why I was up at such an ungodly hour).