Just Hard to Get

I’ve had something I’ve wanted to write about for awhile now, since June, in fact… but I just couldn’t do it. It always came out maudlin, or self-serving, or critical or polemic or just foolish. And that wouldn’t do, not for this…

I lost a friend back in June. As far as I’m aware, he’s the only guy I knew who was in Iraq, and he got blown up by a mine. He was a 44-year-old Navy reservist, a Seabee. He had been in the Army as a young man, went back to school, spent some time in higher ed (which was where I met him), and then decided to re-up as a reservist. Our wives are closer than sisters, and he has two daughters near my daughter’s age.

And no, this is not the place to debate the wisdom of his decision, though God knows I have done it over and over again. He was doing what he enjoyed, what made him who he was, and more important, he was doing what he thought was right.

But I haven’t been able to frame it yet, haven’t been able to really understand it, haven’t gotten any peace about it. Until tonight. I was listening to some Rich Mullins… perhaps ironically, the last album he wrote before he himself died. This is the song, “Hard to Get”:

“You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth…
Who are afraid of being left by those we love,
And who get hardened by the hurt.
Do you remember when You lived down here, where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread?
Did You forget about us, after You had flown away?
Well, I memorized every word You said…
Still, I'm so scared, I'm holding my breath,
While You're up there just playing hard to get.

“You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin.
We have a love that's not as patient as Yours was…
Still, we do love now and then.
Did You ever know loneliness? Did You ever know need?
Do You remember just how long a night can get,
When You were barely holding on,
And Your friends fall asleep,
And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat?
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted,
While You're up there just playing hard to get?

“And I know You bore our sorrows,
And I know You feel our pain,
And I know it would not hurt any less,
Even if it could be explained.

“And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most…
And after I figured this, somehow,
All I really need to know:

“Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time?
We can't see what's ahead,
And we cannot get free of what we've left behind.
I'm reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears,
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret…
I can't see how you're leading me,
Unless you've led me here,
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led.

“And so You've been here all along, I guess.
It's just Your way,
and You are just plain hard to get…”

Happy Birthday, Gary… I’m comforted knowing that you’re having a better time now than I’ve ever had in my whole life. So until that day…

Exits, graceful and otherwise

Well, the Dodger season is over, and it was a heckuva ride. Going further in the playoffs would have been a blast, of course, but I can't believe that anyone who carefully examined the Dodger roster can really be disappointed. A rookie catcher, a rookie left fielder, new faces at short, center, and first, no real third baseman until August, and a bullpen rebuilt enroute... this is not a playoff recipe. It reminded me a lot of the early 70's, when Campanis pieced together veterans (Dick Allen, Frank Robinson, an assortment of bad catchers) to keep things together until the golden prospects (Garvey-Lopes-Russell-Cey) arrived. Then things got better.

I have the same hope for this bunch; the kids that are up now appear to be for real, and there are a couple more hitters and several pitchers ready for their auditions. The next five years ought to be great fun.

And it helps a little to be able to say that LA went just as deep in the playoffs as the Yankees. The Boss' response was classic: he first issued a statement saying that the season was "not acceptable," then released a revised statement 90 minutes later, saying it was "absolutely not acceptable." Good thing that the housing market has cooled a bit now that Joe Torre will be shopping for west coast property again...

********************************

So i guess there are fanboys, and there are boyfans. The latest spin on beloved Rep. Foley, the smooth-IM’ing Florida boyfan, is that he was abused by a priest when he was a kid. But, according to his lawyer, that (of course) doesn’t excuse his behavior… but (of course) it’s worth mentioning at a press conference, because (of course) it would explain why he’s such a damaged soul and such a victim himself (of course). Can you imagine the lawyers' conference: “Hmm, we’ve played the clergy abuse card, we’ve played the rehab card… can we put out a statement saying that he's 1/132 Iroquoi? Hey, if we could just leak that the LAPD planted DNA to frame him, we might not get Oprah, but maybe we could get Ellen!”

And while I’m reading this story, I’m listening to some old Oingo Boingo…

Only a lad, You really can't blame him
Only a lad, Society made him
Only a lad, He's our responsibility
Only a lad, He really couldn't help it
Only a lad, He didn't want to do it
Only a lad, He's underprivileged and abused
Perhaps a little bit confused

It's not his fault that he can't believe
It's not his fault that he can't behave
Society made him go astray
Perhaps if we're nice he'll go away
Perhaps he'll go away

Yes, Mr. Foley, please go away; perhaps in November we’ll send some more Grand Old Poseurs off with you… What? Oh, I’m sorry, did I forget to include the final line of the song? Well, I’ll let you find that yourselves…

Around the Dial...

So I'm driving around L.A. tonight, as I'm wont to do, listening to tunes. I used to listen to sports talk radio on these drives, but after some personnel changes on "the sports leader," well... I went out and bought myself a new mp3-capable CD player for the car. That's been a year ago now...

And tonight about 9:00 or so, the CD player starts buzzing, and humming. Not good...sounds like Ashlee Simpson's electrolysis lab. Then it starts to clunk and grind, like a garbage disposal. Then it does nothing. Somehow the nothing is more ominous than the buzz and hum and clunk and grind.

Damn. I start pushing buttons... can't get the CD out, but at least the radio still works. I start scanning for some music... but my now-acrid-smelling unit won't switch out of AM. Double damn.

So I start scanning AM, and I hear it. Familiar voice. Can't be... probably just sounds like him. Then he laughs. Son of a gun, it's him. Way down there on the other end of the dial. Son of a gun. Todd Wright is back on the air.

His departure from ESPN radio (almost exactly a year ago) is not something I have any inside info on, but apparently his contract was up, he was tired of working the ‘third’ shift (after nine years), tired of the network interference into his show’s elements, and they were tired of hearing him complain. So one night he was just flat out gone, like the DJ in the Kinks ‘Around the Dial,’ and there was a new guy in his chair. I was shocked, shocked, to find things like that happening in the radio business…

So it's great to have him back, even if it’s on the fiscally-precarious Sporting News Radio Network. Hopefully he'll have some resources and some freedom to shape the show to his liking, although his carefully worded barbs at his overseers in Bristol (he did his show from Florida) used to be pretty funny. You know, there is a theory out there that the best art arises out of adapting to the constraints put on it...

Anyway, I hope he’s having fun. And I'll probably get my CD player fixed, but now there's really no rush... so if you're in LA, he's on AM 1540 from 7-11 pm Sundays-Thursdays.

PS: and speaking of those who make their living from sports without being able to play a lick, Bill Simmons is diarying (??) his way through the baseball playoffs. I might give up a body part to write like Simmons, as long at it was something like an earlobe or my Isles of Langerhans.

The End of the Story...

Yes, it’s been a very long time. I almost forgot how to log-in to my own blog.

But I thought it was worth noting that we lost a great gift today. Former Los Angeles television newsman Ralph Story passed away at age 86. If you never saw Ralph, well, he managed to be both Mike Wallace and Huell Howser for LA in the 60s & 70s. Warren Olney, another LA treasure, not unexpectedly did a wonderful job of summarizing what made Ralph great: “He was able to use humor and irony to make a serious point, something you virtually never see on television anymore…. [His] attitude of amused detachment could transmit devastating critiques and probing analyses without being harsh or mean-spirited, much less boring. He made serious journalism a pleasure to watch."

Of course, that was when there was serious journalism on local newscasts. That, and now Ralph himself, have joined his own list, of “things that aren’t here anymore.”

****************
Totally unconnected sidenote on beer: I’m English by lineage… one summer when I obviously had nothing else to do, I traced the family line back to Northamptonshire, England, mid-1500’s. So, yes, I’ve got some pride in my heritage. But the English drink their beer warm. Good God, what an awful idea. Drinking unrefrigerated beer is like watching a VH-1 reality show; every minute, you’re reminded “this is just wrong.” Of course, you can help the beer situation by just burying that baby in some ice for a few minutes. I’m not sure what can be done for Christopher Knight.

****************
From today’s news pages:
Gibson's Promotion of New Movie Leaves Jews Baffled
“Director’s cut” of “Passion” has Jesus come down off cross and beat Pharisees senseless with a bottle of Tequila, then drive away in Lexus LS 430.

Dallas Cowboys’ Terrell Owens In Suicide Attempt
What, he just realized Drew Bledsoe is quarterbacking his team?

Air Force Jet Wins Battle in Congress
Multiple strafing runs wear down beleaguered and outgunned legislators.

For the Third Time, a Jury Fails to Convict Gotti
This just in: Most humans still averse to having kneecaps broken.

Source of Spinach Taint Located
“I didn’t do nuthin’ wrong,” claims farm owner A. W. Blutto.

Secretary Vows to Improve Results of Higher Education
“Anticipating at least six more years of a GOP-led government, we need to prepare graduates for the real American economy,” said Spellings. “We’re therefore cutting English, literature, and philosophy and requiring 12 units of Computer Game Beta Testing and Bedpan Changing. The foreign language requirements will also be reconfigured so that each graduate will be tested on their ability to say ‘Welcome to Wal-Mart’ in 12 different languages.”

And finally, on the sad state of American manufacturing,
Wagoner Says GM Can Save Itself but Open to Alliances
Of course, why didn’t we think of this before!

This just in from Mexico City...

In an unprecedented political comeback, it was announced today that Richard Nixon has been elected president of Mexico.

The opposition candidate, Jorge McGovern, could not be reached for comment but was expected to challenge the results.

Christianity 101

I’ve been reading through the book of 1st John recently. I don’t need too many more complications in my life, and this is a very uncomplicated book, with a very uncomplicated message: God is love.

Henri Nouwen says that “knowing God means to consistently, radically, and very concretely announce and reveal that God is love and only love... and that every time fear, isolation, or despair begin to invade the human soul, this is not something that comes from God. This sounds very simple and maybe even trite, but very few people know that they are loved without any conditions or limits. This unconditional, unlimited love is what John calls God’s first love: Let us love, because God loved us first.”

God’s love is first; human love came second. And Nouwen notes that human love often leaves us “doubtful, frustrated, angry, and resentful... there is always the chance of rejection, withdrawal, punishment, blackmail, violence, and even hatred... these are all the shadow side of this second [human] love... [flawed by] the darkness that never completely leaves the human heart... The radical good news is that this second love is only a broken reflection of the first love, and that the first love is offered to us by a God in whom there are no shadows...”

Dallas Willard is one of the truly wise souls in our world today... and this is his take on who this God is, this God that asks for nothing less than all we are:

“The acid test for any teaching about God is this: Is the God presented one that can be loved—heart, soul, mind and strength? If the thoughtful, honest answer is “not really,” then we need to look elsewhere or deeper. It does not really matter how intellectually or doctrinally sophisticated our approach is. If it fails to set a lovable God—a radiant, happy, friendly, accessible, and totally competent being—before ordinary people, we have gone wrong. We should not keep going in the same direction, but turn around and take another road.” Our journey, then, is on the road to learning more about that God.

If God is love, how should God’s family live? How is that shown among us? There is a story told about John the Apostle, the writer of this letter, very very old now, so old that he had to be carried into the meeting place... and once there, all he would say, every week, was “Children, love one another.” Finally, one of his students asked, “Master, why do you say this same thing, week after week?” John smiled. “Because,” he whispered, “it is the Lord’s command... and if you do this and only this, it is enough.”

1 John is one of my three favorite books in the Bible... there's Galatians, because it talks so powerfully about grace; Ephesians, because of the incredible and beautiful picture of the church, the body of Christ... and this book, because it takes me right to the main thing. The main thing is love. Jesus had 2 commandments; love God, love each other.

Because (and I’ll let you in on a little secret), for all the talking we seminary grads do, the Christian life is very very simple; not easy, but simple. It’s love. It’s that little U2 riff... “and you give yourself away... and you give yourself away... and you give yourself away...” If we’re not doing that, not much else that we do matters.

Lost in Translation...

I went to the Anime Expo with my 11-year-old daughter today. For all of you out there who make fun of Trekkies (Trekkers?) and their conventions… oh my, you have no idea. I had forgotten how much work a 17-year-old will put into becoming someone as far removed from themselves as possible. All that eyeliner and hair-gel and Styrofoam and hot glue and hair dye and spandex. There’s even a word for it, “cosplay,” or costumed role-play. Yet somehow they all still looked like the president of the chess club or the assistant editor of the index for the yearbook. I couldn’t believe nobody thought to book a Clearasil booth.

Actual conversation with my daughter as we sat against the exhibit hall wall sucking down overpriced drinks:

Me: “Look at this program! There’s six different rooms running 24 hour videos! There’s everything! They’re running Miyazaki! Oh my lord, they’re running Astro Boy!” (begins waving arms frantically).

Daughter: “Dad, stop acting weird! You’re embarrassing me!”

[Three six-foot goth girls in black leather miniskirts walk by, with black, white, and pink hair, in 14 inch platform shoes. Each has a three-pronged 5-foot plastic sword. One may actually have been male.]

[Long pause]

Daughter: “Never mind.”

The number of women in this industry is pretty amazing, as was the number of girls at the Expo. I’ve been to a few comics conventions, and there’s like three women in the whole building, and two are paid to be there. But more than half the panelists here are women, and the ‘artist’s room’ where original art is sold and created was almost all female. Is it the big-eyes thing? Did Oprah do an anime special I didn't hear about?

Not that there weren’t lots of males around. Lots of anxious Asian teen boys taking millions of cellphone pictures of giggly skimpily-costumed Asian teen girls. And maybe it’s just me, but a 40-year-old guy dressed as Mario, including plunger, kinda creeps me out. That, and the handful of guys dressed in all black, with gray hair to the middle of their back and looking vaguely like Christopher Walken. Does Alberto Gonzales know about this place? Does Agent Mulder?

Now, when I was young, like I said, anime was Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion. I even pre-date Speed Racer. And I finally saw Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle the other day and almost fell off my chair; this guy has an imagination that just puts Lucas and Spielberg and maybe even the Pixar guys to shame.

But I’m not sure where the rest of this stuff is going. Some of the video screenings that were on: Desert Punk, Place Promised in Our Early Days, Paranoia Agent, Irresponsible Captain Tylor, His and Her Circumstance, Fruits Basket, Slayers Great (and, as an upgrade, Slayers Premium), Read or Die, Boys Over Flowers, Magical Shopping Arcade, Strawberry Eggs, Burst Angel, Secret of the Lovely Eyepatch, Strawberry Marshmallow (what’s the thing with strawberries?), Scrapped Princess, Cutie Honey, This Ugly Yet Beautiful World, and of course, Doggie Poo. I’m assuming the Farrelly brothers have already locked up the English-language rights for that last one. We missed the "American Idol" contest; if the judges were overdubbed Japanese (like “Iron Chef”), I’m buying the DVD.

When we got home, my daughter looked a little shell-shocked. My wife tried to explain to her that it was like a cross-cultural experience, and those can be inordinately tiring. My daughter seemed to think the problem was more likely blisters. I’m going to try and drag her back tomorrow, but I’m not going to push my luck; we’re supposed to go to the San Diego ComiCon in three weeks and I don’t want to burn her out. I told her that Ray Bradbury was going to be at the ComiCon, and she said, “Who?”

At least she knows who Miyazaki is.

The night they drove old Cuban down...

I'm not a big NBA fan like I used to be; I used to live and die with the Lakers, from West/Goodrich/Wilt/Happy/McMillian/Riley/Erickson down to Kobe & Shaq, it was purple (sorry, "Forum blue") and gold all the way. I remember Mel Counts, and Mark Landesberger, and Elmore Smith (good Lord, they think this post-dynasty Lakers team is bad? Does anybody remember that team, with Goodrich wondering where everybody else went?)... I remember listening to Chick Hearn on my buzzy little portable radio, describing yet another Finals loss to Boston, followed by the sponsor's theme song, "Richfield Imperial Boron, the mileage maker gasoline"... I'm not sure I've ever stopped in an ARCO station in my life, and I'm thinking that's why...

But it went south for me that last year, the Malone-Payton debacle; it was like bringing in David Spade or Jon Lovitz to save your sinking sitcom. And when that went south, my NBA passion went too. It was fun following the Clips this year, 'cause they've always been such great fantasy fodder; you (and your Mom, probably) could put together a better roster than they actually had (which makes Elgin's GM of the Year such an eye-roller; like the Kennedy Center honoring Charlton Heston). But the games themselves? Meh. I just didn't care. I'd rather watch hockey.

But the playoffs sucked me back in, especially when the teams I thought were locks (Detroit, San Antonio) fell out. If Stoudemire comes back (or never goes down), Phoenix runs away with it; if, if, if, if. San Antonio suffers from premature dynastitis; sluggish regular season and finally unable to get it up for the big run. Detroit; I have no idea what happened to Detroit. They looked unstoppable at the end of the season and early in the playoffs; I would have bet the house. A whole lot more fragile as a team than any of us thought. And Dallas... somehow, you just never thought Dallas had the stones for it. Like Sacramento during those prime Laker years, you just figured they'd Mickelson it, no matter how it looked early on.

Which left Miami. I'm a Riles fan, from the old LA days as a player; he was tough, he worked hard, he hit the boards at only 6-4, and he could get in people's heads on defense. Unless you've got MJ, you don't bet against Riles in a big game. They shouldn't have beaten Detroit, except for the time-machine effect; it was 2001 again for Shaq (28 & 16) and Billups (3 for 14). But could they stop the "new-NBA" Mavericks? Could they match up with the athleticism, the precision, the speed, the depth? Could they defend suddenly-all-world-Dirk?

Yup.

And a big hand for our newest member of the Bottom-of-the-Barrel club, Keith Van Horn. From 2nd overall pick, to another Iverson-sidekick-wannabe, to Can't-Get-Off-the-Bench in the last game of the season, for a team that desperately needed somebody who could shoot (37% overall, 5 of 22 from three). Relax, you say, the guy's like 42 years old, right? No, he's 30. He's only 30, and he's done. Oh the humanity...

I know, it's rightfully all about Wade today, but how interesting was Shaq's series? In six games, he managed to show Jerry Buss both why he should and why he shouldn't have offered the Big Aristotle the Big Extension. Shaq can't shoot free throws. Shaq can't jump even more than he couldn't jump before. Shaq can't play defense anymore, if he ever could. Shaq can't be on the floor for the last five minutes. Oh, and Shaq's team won. All he needed was (memo to KB) a partner who could drive, dish, and defer.

And I ended up watching the games, and TiVO'ing the Stanley Cup. Stern got me again.

Oh, and when Cuban hires Dan Rather for his HD channel, wanna bet Stern's the first interview?