Pics: Joe Haden wears Jordan VII cleats at Browns training camp
August 4, 2015Browns running trick plays for Terrelle Pryor?
August 5, 2015Happy Wednesday, Blawg Pound. Rather disparate topics today. I trust your July ended well and that you’re enjoying the sunny days of early August.
I’m a bit sleepy this morning. I got caught up in the Indians-Angels game last night, which went 12 innings, lasted over three and a half hours, and wrapped up around 1:30 a.m. Eastern time. Carlos Carrasco went nine shutout innings, allowing just three baserunners — and got a tough-luck no decision. In that sense it was just another frustrating Tribe game. It could have been worse; Giovanny Urshela ran himself into an out at third base on a Jose Ramirez grounder to short, neutering a would-be go-ahead rally after knocking a one-out double in the top of the 10th.
Gio atoned two innings later. He clubbed a 393-foot two-run homer to left in the top of the 12th, and closer Cody Allen went 1-2-3 for the save in the 2-0 win. It was a brilliant night of pitching by the Tribe, and it’s nice to see the club get the victory, even if Carrasco didn’t. Better yet, the victory is sure to juice the numbers of Cleveland’s coffee enterprises this morning. Bravo, team.
Wrestling great “Rowdy” Roddy Piper passed away on July 31. I don’t have many memories of Piper — born Roderick George Toombs in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan on April 17, 1954 — as he was at his wrestling peak before I was at my wrestling watching peak. I certainly know the name, and I’ve seen some clips, and I have a vague understanding of his significance in the world of pro wrestling, but he’s not one of those guys that I know everything about.
With that in mind, I’m going to leave the eulogic remarks to a more capable writer: David Shoemaker, a/k/a The Masked Man, who writes on pro wrestling for Grantland. I’ve said before and I’ll say again — I know that some folks immediately dismiss wrestling. And that’s fine. I’m not sure that I can adequately explain why I dig it, but I do, and rarely moreso than after I read a Shoemaker column. He writes with knowledge, respect, and love for his subjects in a way that few do, especially when it comes to pro wrestlers passing away.
From “‘Rowdy’ Roddy Piper, 1954-2015”
Roddy Piper was never the biggest WWF star, but he was irreplaceable because he grounded all the good-versus-evil theatrics. He made it OK to root for a heel, not because he was transcendent or postmodern but because he was honest. He was human. It’s why casting him in They Live [The movie that features the line, “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass…and I’m all out of bubblegum.”] was such an inspired choice — [his character] was an average drifter suddenly burdened with world-altering power. He was a nobody who had to give up his life to destroy the alien menace, but not before he flipped them off. He was quite possibly wrestling’s most relatable heel: We could see ourselves in him even though he was provoking our heroes. Piper battled cancer in the 2000s and beat it.
Piper wasn’t a superhero — not when he was staring down [Hulk] Hogan and certainly not when he was a “good guy.” There was nothing nice about that guy, no. But unlike Piper himself, the rest of us could never look away when he was onscreen.
Wrestling is fake. Wrestlers are not. RIP.
I suppose it’s a bit late in the summer to recommend reading for kids before they go back to school. “But,” some English teacher somewhere says, “It is never too late to read!” Good enough for me, even if that line is a little hacky. I caught a bit on the radio recently about a book written for middle grade readers — I’m sorry to say that I forget its title — and it brought to mind books that I enjoyed once upon a time. School isn’t back quite yet, but how about a brief book report anyway?
(This is as I remember the book from whenever I read it. Forgive any fuzzy details.)
One Fat Summer is the tale of Bobby Marks, who is, as the title suggests, packing more weight than he’s meant to. He’s roughly 15 years old. He’s adolescent and shy and awkward, and he hates summertime. He proper hates it. Winter is nice, because he can wear sweaters and coats and no one takes their shirt off in public. Spring and fall are okay — at least you still get some jacket weather. Summer, though? The worst. Everyone’s throwing on their suits and going to the pool and having fun in the sun, and Bobby can’t stand it.
Ah, but young Bobby learns things that summer. He cuts the grass for a domineering doctor and tangles with neighborhood toughs. He gets in some scrapes but comes out of them stronger. He learns how to mow the perfect lawn and how to fix the mower when it gets choked up. He loses some pounds and finds some tan and earns the respect of the All-American lifeguard to whom he once only looked up.
Whether you’re a teen or an adult, it has some instructive if well-worn themes. If you’ve ever struggled with something, physical or otherwise, you know Bobby Marks. You’ve been Bobby Marks. He was vulnerable and uncertain, but after a little hard work he came to be more than he ever thought possible. Bobby Marks is a hero, if only of his time and place.
(This book also features the greatest description of how to eat all of your favorite breakfast foods in one bite — this must be early on, before dear Bobby slims down. It basically entails eating a huge forkful of eggs and then taking a bite of toast and then jamming in a piece of bacon and then washing it all down with orange juice before your cheeks reach critical mass. I loved this book.)
In more serious reading, this New Yorker profile by Jake Halpern about the police officer who shot Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri is exceptionally well reported and well written, and all kinds of interesting. A taste from the introduction:
During our conversations, Wilson typically sat in a recliner, holding his baby daughter, who was born in March. He said that, after Brown’s death, people “had made threats about doing something to my unborn child.” Wilson, a former Boy Scout with round cheeks and blue eyes, speaks with a muted drawl. When [Wilson’s wife] Barb went to the hospital to give birth, he said, “I made her check in anonymously.”
Wilson said that he had interviewed for a few police positions but had been told that he would be a liability. “It’s too hot an issue, so it makes me unemployable,” he said. He tried not to brood about it: “I bottle everything up.”
Last, a music video. The group is The Foreign Exchange, which began online when Dutch producer Nicolay Rook and North Carolinian rapper/singer Phonte Coleman1 met on Okayplayer.com. The two emailed music back and forth and put out an album before they ever shook hands. They kept working together, eventually met in person, and have since brought in other musicians and now tour with a full live band.
Their music was rooted in hip-hop when they started off, but has evolved toward soul and R&B with a touch of electronica. Some songs are heavy and sincere, while others are meant to step out to. This one is the latter, and the video had me trying to figure out how to laugh my ass off while still keeping the beat. If you need an escape from the office, you could do much worse than this.
Enjoy, all. Make today a good one.
- Formerly of the hip-hop group Little Brother, which was mentioned in this space a week ago. [↩]
6 Comments
I grew up in the 80’s and watched wrestling as a kid. Piper was one of my favorites along with Ric Flair. I don’t think that Hogan would have been as big of a star without a bad guy like Piper.
I wonder how a pitcher feels after going 9 innings and only giving up 2 hits…yet doesn’t get the W. It has to be frustrating.
Good afternoon gentlemen!
Watching Browns training camp in Daytona! Life is ok. 😀
https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/11825830_850653368323083_5711131752244287128_n.jpg?oh=5f0db9c08d2d2cc2ff7d8a860651ecb9&oe=563BE7F4
And, Carrasco only gave up 1 hit 🙂 (walk and HBP being the other 2 that reached base)
And judging by the signage, and if my west coast math is right, it’s happy hour now. $2.50 drafts…giddyup!
The Shoemaker piece on Piper is great.
I was a kid during the WWF Golden Age. As much as I’d like to say I hated or loved Piper, the truth is that I just sort of ignored him. He was a confusing wrestler to me. One second, he’s the villain on my Saturday morning cartoon and busting coconuts over peoples’ heads, the next he’s walking through the Silverdome to the adoration of 100,000 fans. All this despite the fact that at all times he was exactly the same lunatic.
Now that I’m older, I realize that Piper was a much more complex character as a wrestler and people loved him because he didn’t fit the black-white 80’s wrestling narrative. Looking back now, I view him as a force of smirking anarchy, closer to Bugs Bunny than the Four Horsemen.
Or smashing records over people’s heads!