Everyone from the Kansas City area has a Tech N9ne story.
There was one time that he showed up in the parking lot at a Saint Thomas Aquinas football game.
He arrived in a massive van, decorated with a mural of his recent album, “Absolute Power.” The car was somewhat out of place. This was St. Thomas Aquinas for a Friday night football game. The parking lot was filled with mothers’ minivans, Leawood* students’ Lexus’s and the car jockeys’ Preludes and souped-up Civics.
*My bad, I mean Leahood.
Tech N9ne styled his hair in orange dreads that night, just like on the album cover/side of the touring van. He didn’t quite fit in.
No, the car, the hair, the fact that Tech N9ne was rumored to have worshipped Satan – it all didn’t quite feel right in a parking lot in a southern Johnson County Catholic school.
But no one seemed to care. A celebrity had come to Aquinas. This was automatically big news, no matter the person. Fran Drescher could have arrived, giving out free DVD’s of “The Nanny,” and we would have thrown a parade.
And here was Tech N9ne. Tech-FREAKING-N9ne at our high school. He was famous. Yeah, he must have been famous. He was Tech N9ne.
That mattered to us.
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I write this blog now because I just noticed that Tech N9ne has a new CD. I saw it at Best Buy in Dallas on Sunday afternoon. It’s called K.O.D., an acronym for King of Darkness. I don’t expect many people down here will buy it.
They won’t understand it. They won’t understand Tech N9ne. They’re not from Kansas City.
To us, he’s the most famous rapper to ever come out of the city, probably the most famous musician of the last 10 to 15 years, assuming you don’t count David Cook (and I don’t).
When he released his “Killer” album in 2008, Kansas City Star music critic Timothy Finn called it a classic. Jason Whitlock called it the best rap album since Dr. Dre’s “The Chronic.”
It sold 36,000 copies in its first week. That’s certainly not bad, but something hailed as a classic in Kansas City carried little weight anywhere else.
And that makes total sense.
To everyone outside of Jackson, Johnson, Cass and Douglas Counties, Tech N9ne is nothing. He’s a guy who likely seems disturbed given his album covers and song titles. He’s a guy who hasn’t appeared on MTV, who has done few songs with other reputable musicians in this decade. He’s a guy who’s not…famous.
Those of us in Kansas City don’t quite understand that.
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There was one time a friend of my brother’s hung out with the fast crowd at Shawnee Mission South during his freshman year.
One of the passengers on this night smoked what may or may not have been an illegal substance and didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the group.
He was Tech N9ne.
This story, along with mine from the beginning, should illustrate a bigger point. Think about it. Two times, at least, Tech N9ne was spotted hanging out among people I know in Johnson County.
That doesn’t exactly help out with street cred*. And if you’re interested in becoming a famous rapper, you need street cred, something that doesn’t come easy in hip-hop.
* Whenever people say “street cred,” it’s always “cred” never “credit.” What, does it show a lack of street cred to use the word credit?
You see, rap music is strange in that lame suburbanites such as myself buy the great majority of records. So to become famous and keep your street cred you have to make music that alternately pleases this suburban crowd, yet also alienates them so as to impress the urban crowd.
This can be done in multiple ways.
One, you can include words and messages that lame suburbanites don’t quite understand. An example of this would be the famous song by Lil’ Jon, “Get Low.” He repeated a highly explicit word in the chorus that I will not write because this is a family blog. No one who lived within 10 miles of a cul de sac knew what that word meant until Dave Chappelle hilariously brought this up on his TV show, sending suburbanites scrambling to urbandictionary.com.
Two, you can glorify crime and boast of a criminal background. 50 Cent does this as well as anyone. He talks about how he was shot several times before he got famous. Every once in a while he makes sure to get accused of a minor crime for which he will get acquitted, allowing him to skate off freely yet still put on the façade that he is a gangster/thug.
Three, you can start an imaginary feud with another rapper. Just mention some obscure line that doesn’t quite call someone out, but under the right circumstances could be interpreted that way. Then, six months later, declare that “the beef is on wax,” meaning it was all in good fun and won’t lead to any real fighting.
Tech N9ne didn’t pull this off. At the beginning of his career, he rapped about more standard topics such as repping his neighborhood and visiting far away hoods.
Then he dyed his hair orange. Then he wrote songs like “Slacker” and deeper, almost scary songs like “This Ring.” Then he started showing up in St. Thomas Aquinas parking lots and Shawnee Mission South social functions.
He didn’t hang around 56th and Highland too often.
He made moves that were innovative and bold, but in rap music, where clichés and catchy, formulaic hooks equal money, that’s not how you become famous.
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Kansas City always wanted Tech N9ne to break through.
Maybe it was because of the way he uttered the name of our city in nearly every song, not to mention outlying places like Lawrence and Cameron, Mo. Maybe it was because he invented or at least popularized the drink, Caribou Lou*.
*That’s 151, Malibu Rum and pineapple juice. And if you are to listen to Tech, you can’t get the party started without it.
Maybe it was because no famous musicians (again, I’m not counting David Cook) have come from Kansas City since the Jazz age.
We knew we couldn’t compete with LA or New York, but other Midwest cities had their artists.
St. Louis had Nelly and even a one-hit wonder from J-Kwon. Omaha had 311. Chicago had Common and Kanye. Denver had India.Arie.
We knew Tech N9ne was our opportunity. So we built him up. We imagined that “I’m A Playa” would be a perfect club anthem, and that yes, the album “Killer” could be a classic.
In the ears of outsiders, the lyrics and beats didn’t sound the same. I remember asking people who lived at my dorm my freshman year in college about Tech N9ne. I would always get the same response. Yeah, he’s OK.
Tech N9ne is OK. That’s the prevailing opinion, not that he is too out there or that he doesn’t have enough street cred, and it leads into the final Tech N9ne story.
There was one time a reporter from Yahoo conducted a Q&A session with Aqib Talib during KU’s dream football season of 2007.
He asked him about the year, asked him about his daughter, asked him about coach Mangino and asked him about music and Tech N9ne.
“Yeah, he’s a Kansas City guy,” Talib said. “I haven’t gotten into him yet. I haven’t lived up here long enough.”
“It’s like the every other decade theory… The fifties were boring. The sixties rocked. The seventies, oh my God, they obviously sucked. Maybe the eighties will be radical. You know, I figure we’ll be in our twenties. It can’t get any worse.” — Dazed and Confused
I first saw the movie “Dazed and Confused” when I was 10 years old. It was 1996. This of course, was a year when people still rented movies, still popped VHS tapes into VCR’s, and still had to push play.
Anyway, my older brother had returned from a movie-rental place with a friend. And they planned on watching some movie I’d never heard of.
Sometimes I wonder why I remember this night. Nothing eventful happened. Nothing memorable happened.
But I do remember it. I remember watching the beginning scene at the high school. And I remember the next scene when they go to the middle school and yell at Mitch Kramer through the loudspeaker.
I’ve always had mixed feelings about the movie. On one hand, I feel it’s wildly underrated. Richard Linklater directed it. He’s the same guy that directed Before Sunrise and Before Sunset — two masterpieces that I’ve always loved. On the other hand, I feel it’s still pretty flawed and a little bit phony.
*I’m pretty sure that my contradictory feelings stem from my high school experiences. I remember being in high school in Overland Park in the early 2000’s. And for some reason, the kids in the burnout clique adopted Dazed and Confused as their favorite movie. Of course, I was friends with most of these people. But I always thought they were missing the point. They all wanted to drive around and listen to music — like the people in the movie (and when you’re in high school, who doesn’t?). But it seemed like three or four guys started talking exactly like the stoner archetype from the movie.
“Hey, man, you just don’t understand, man. Martha Washington, man, she was a good lady, man. Yea, yea. Yea. Whoa, man.” So, yea, maybe my view of the movie was tarnished.
But here’s the thing: If I’m watching television, and Dazed and Confused comes on — I just can’t turn the channel.
This happened again last Tuesday. Dazed and Confused was on television for the 1,713th time. And I had to keep watching. And that’s when I heard Cynthia, the nerdy redhead from the movie, say that quote about her “Every other decade theory.”
“It’s like the every other decade theory… The fifties were boring. The sixties rocked. The seventies, oh my God, they obviously sucked. Maybe the eighties will be radical. You know, I figure we’ll be in our twenties. It can’t get any worse.”*
*I’m fairly certain that Linklater was trying to add a little ironic humor.
Of course, I can’t remember the 80’s… so I can’t be sure. But I’m fairly certain that most people would never describe the 80’s as “radical.”
I’m not exactly sure why, but on this particular viewing, on this particular night, these words made me think a little deeper.
Maybe it was the chilly winter weather. Maybe it was because it was 1:30 in the morning. But mostly, I think it was because I’ve been thinking a lot about decades recently.
We’ve been inundated with lists the last couple weeks. The Top 10 Movies of the Decade. The Top 500 Songs of the Decade. The Top 10 Moments of the Decade. On and on and on.
And at its core, Dazed and Confused is simply a cheap little piece of 1970s nostalgia. It’s about a bunch of high school kids in 1976. They cruise around town, drink, smoke, and listen to music (for all intents and purposes, they basically listen to a greatest hits collection from the 1970s).
They throw ragers at the local park, attempt to throw keggers in their basements, and shoot pool at the local pool hall.
I’m sure there were a few people that did these kinds of things in the 1970s. For all I know, maybe there were lots and lots of people that did these things. But I’m guessing — in fact, I’m fairly certain — that the majority of high school kids did not do these types of things in the 1970s.
Sure, some probably drank. Some probably smoked. Some probably did illicit drugs. After all, it was the 1970s. But that’s not my point.
And here’s the thought I’m stumbling to get to.
One movie cannot define the youth culture in the 1970s. It just can’t.
But here’s the sad truth. For millions… that’s how it works.
Pop culture — movies, music, television — has totally corrupted our views of the past.
When I think of the 1970s, I think of Dazed and Confused.
When I think of the 1980s, I think of Back to the Future and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Sixteen Candles.
When I think of the 1990s, I think of Empire Records and Can’t Hardly Wait and Clueless and all those other average Generation X films.
And all that pop culture clouds my perception of those decades.
I guess I’ve been thinking about all this as all these “Lists of the Decades” and “Retrospectives of the 2000s” have been coming out.
For some reason, we feel compelled to peel away the complexities from each decade, and repackage 10 years into a nice, short, easy-to-digest synopsis.
The 1920s – a roaring good time with flappers and drinking and excess. Sign me up.
The 1930s – a dusty decade immersed in a depression… and, oh yes, the New Deal.
The 1940s – WAR! …World War II …and the beginning of the Cold War.
The 1950s – A decade of innocence; moving out to the suburbs; the American Dream
The 1960s – A chaotic period; assassinations, protest, civil rights and more war.
The 1970s – Drugs and disco and long hair.
The 1980s – A new decade of excess and yuppies and Reagan and the end of the Cold War.
The 1990s – Microsoft and computers and the Internet and the tech boom.
…And so on.
So what short synopsis will come to define this decade? How will we remember these long 10 years?
Well, if you’re listening, it’s already started to develop.
And I’m sure we’ll hear about 9/11 and the two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And we’ll remember Bush and Obama – their differences and similarities. We’ll remember Google and the iPhone. We’ll remember Katrina. And we’ll remember the financial collapse.
So I suppose people will remember this decade as a period of struggle. A lost decade of calamitous events. Tragedy and terror and more bad news.
And I guess that’s OK. I’ll remember all those things.
But then, some hot young director will make a movie in 2027 — a piece of cheap nostalgia about high school kids in the 2000s — and I’m not sure I’ll totally be able to recognize it.
Because if you strip away all the stuff that the the 2000s were “supposed to be about,” you might just be left with your own memories and your own experiences.
You might just realize that the 2000s were a pretty damn-good time to be alive.
…And yet, as I try to make sense of the decade, and the things that resonated with me. I’m left thinking about the music I listened to. Each song, each album, each downloaded piece of music helps me reflect on 10 years of memories and friends and growth.
So, to make sense of it all –- and to cure a little Christmas-break boredom, I knew I had to make a list of The 10 Best Songs of The Decade. The only problem… I couldn’t stop at 10.
So here’s 20 songs that shaped the decade. Well, they shaped my decade. And that’s the point. We all have our own 20 songs. Listen to your songs. Don’t listen to everyone else’s.
20. Wilco
The Late Greats
2004
In 25 years, young hipsters will still be wearing Wilco T-shirts. Jeff Tweedy, Wilco’s incomparable frontman, will be ordained a music legend. And Tweedy will be on some stage somewhere, collaborating with some young hip band trying to steal a little of Wilco’s mojo.
And I’ll tell my kids, “You know, I loved Wilco when I was growing up.” I’ll say this because I’ll assume that it will give me some marker of credibility, some points in the coolness quotient. I’ll assume that my kids will care. Of course, we know they won’t
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19. Empire State of Mind
Jay-Z , ft. Alicia Keys
2009
So, I was convinced to replace Jay’s “Roc Boys (And the winner is…)” with “Empire State of Mind”. After all, “Empire” is one of the newest songs on the list.
Of course, it’s one of the best tracks of 2009, and Jay and Alicia performed at the World Series at Yankee Stadium — and that was a great moment.
But I am curious to know what we will think about this song in 20 years.
Will kids be humming it, like they hum “Sinatra’s “New York, New York?” But in the end, Jay-Z — the new Sinatra — had to be on the list.
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18. My Love
Justin Timberlake Ft. T.I.
2006
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17. Road to Joy
Bright Eyes
2005
This is the final track on Conor Oberst’s seminal 2005 record, “I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning.”
…The sun came up with no conclusions
Flowers sleepin’ in their beds
The city cemetary’s hummin’
I’m wide awake, its mornin’
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16. The Needle has landed
Neko Case
2006
She’s one of the best artists of the last decade. She was the lead singer in the New Pornographers — one the most underrated bands of the decade. And her voice is iconic.
Around the time I first started to listen to Neko Case, I was in a record store in Fort Collins, Colo. This song was playing in the background. I asked the guy behind the counter if it was Neko Case. He said, “Yea… I think she’s going to be an all-time great.”
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15. Paper Planes
M.I.A.
2007
It suffered a little bit from being overplayed. But if you weren’t jamming to this song in 2007-08, you just weren’t paying attention.
Simply put, it’s the most danceable song of the last 10 years.
Plus, anytime you can have a hit record with the lyrics, “We pack and deliver like UPS trucks,” you’re doing something right.
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14. New Slang
Artist: The Shins
2001
When I was 17 years old, my older brother took me to a show at Liberty Hall in Lawrence. We saw two bands I’d never heard of. The Rapture and The Shins. When you’ve never heard a band before, it can be hard to totally enjoy their live show. The Shins were different. Within the next year, I had both their albums — “Oh, Inverted World” and “Chutes Too Narrow”.
And then the movie “Garden State” came out. You know, the indie hit starring Zach Braff and Natalie Portman. Of course, it became my favorite movie — mostly because it had three Shins songs featured in it.*
*One time, when I was a senior, I used my nerdy Student Council connections to get like seven kids out of class, and we went to my house to eat lunch and watch this movie.
Well, this song, according to Portman’s character, was supposed to “totally change your life.” I’m not sure it changed anyone’s life — except for Braff’s. But it introduced the world to The Shins. And it made me feel cool because I was a high schooler listening to some quality “college rock.” And that was good enough.
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13. Remix to Ignition
R. Kelly
2003
Here’s why this song is on the list. If you had a time machine, you could travel back to the year 2003.
And if you travelled back in time, you could walk into any high school lunchroom in America, and within a few minutes, you’d hear somebody singing “And after the party, it’s the hotel lobby…”
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12. Fred Jones Pt. 2
Ben Folds
2001
This song is about an old newspaper man who loses his job. It was great in 2001, and it means even more to me now.
Let’s hope people don’t forget about the greatness of Folds’ first solo album, “Rockin’ the Suburbs.”
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11. Whatever You Like
T.I
2008
For me, this song means college. And in 20 years, this song will mean college. And in 30 years, this song will mean college. And when I hear it, I’ll be in college again. And there aren’t many things better than that.*
*Oh, and I guess T.I. just got out of jail. Good for him.
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10. I And Love And You
The Avett Brothers
2009
Haven’t listened to the Avett Brothers? Then you’re missing out on the best rock song of 2009.
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9. Crazy in Love
Beyonce
2003
Here’s my Beyonce story. If you live in Kansas City, you surely know about the radio station 95.7 “The Vibe.” Well, once upon a time, 95.7 decided it was going to try to challenge 103.3 Jamz, the top Hip-hop station in Kansas City. So 95.7 started playing the top 20 hip-hop and and R&B songs in the country. And that was all it played. It was annoying, but at the same time, it was comforting.
For example, if The Vibe was around in 2003, you would have been able to turn to it and hear “Crazy in Love” withing the next 20 minutes… guaranteed. And that’s what I think about when I think of “Crazy in Love.”
You might not want to listen to it forever, but in a decade that was defined by downloading and iTunes and all the rest, it’s the perfect single. You hear it once, and you want to hear it again. And that’s why I liked 95.7 The Vibe. I wasn’t crazy about the music. (Sure, I enjoyed it enough.) But I knew I was going to hear the same 20 songs.*
*Oddly enough, 95.7 still calls itself The Vibe, but it plays Nickelback and other atrocious mainstream rock songs.
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8. This Year
The Mountain Goats
2005
My brother introduced me to The Mountain Goats sometime during the first couple years of the decade. It was essentially one guy, John Darnielle, playing lo-fi, folky, indie-rock. It was raw, and it felt like you were listening to the greatest secret in the word.
A few years later, I was driving on K-10, on my way back to school at KU. This song came on the radio — 90.7 KJHK, the student-run radio station at the University of Kansas. For the next three minutes, I sat and listened. I downloaded the song a few hours later, and it still has the greatest chorus of the decade.
“I am gonna make it, through this year, if it kills me…”
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7. What Am I To You?
Norah Jones
2004
…What am I to you
Tell me darling true
To me you are the sea
Vast as you can be
And deep the shade of blue
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6. Do You Realize?
The Flaming Lips
2002
…And instead of saying all of your goodbyes – let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It’s hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn’t go down
It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
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5. Where’s the Love?
The Black Eyed Peas
2003
This song introduced us to the Peas, to will.i.am, and to Fergie.
Justin Timberlake stops in for a cameo, and against all odds, we somehow get one of the best peace anthems and protest songs of the last 25 years.
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4. The Decemberists
The Crane Wife 1&2
2006
The Decemberists spent the decade spewing out sophisticated indie-rock. Songs with inspired lyrics, and albums with actual themes.
They had a pseudo-rivalry with Stephen Colbert, and they wrote the second-best rock album of the decade (the first is coming up).
Here’s my Decemberists story. When I was in college, I worked at the college radio station. I mostly did sports broadcasting stuff, but occasionally, I’d fill in and do a D.J. shift. Sometimes I’d bring my brother to help me with D.J. shifts. Anyways, one time, my brother decided to play The Decemberists’ song, “The Shankill Butchers,” perhaps the most depressing song ever.
Basically, it’s slow and creepy, and it’s about butchers killing people with cleavers and knives. Like I said, it’s depressing.
So my bro puts the song on, and within two minutes, this really laid back dude calls. He’s real laid-back, talking deep and slow. And it seems the laid-back dude thought we were a real downer. I guess we ruined his day by playing such a depressing tune.
As I recall, he said something like this: “Yo, man… come on guys. It’s just not right. Just not right. You gotta bring people up. Bring ’em up, man. Give ’em some hope. This song is just a real downer, man. A downer, man. I mean, I don’t want to tell you how to do your jobs. But let’s bring a little joy to the world, let’s bring people up…”
It was a strange conversation. But I think the weird laid-back Lawrence townie had a point.
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3. Death Cab For Cutie
Transatlanticism
2003
Not sure who said it, but here’s the greatest way to describe this song…
You just never want it to end.
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2. Hey Yea
Outkast
2003
The most ubiquitous hit of the decades. If Outkast is the artist of the decade — and they just might be — this is their “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”
Andre 3000 and Big Boi have had their Lennon/McCartney moments, but I really hope we haven’t seen the last of Outkast.
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1. Neighborhood Pt. 1 (Tunnel)
Arcade Fire
2004
You could pick any song off Arcade Fire’s 2004 album “Funeral” to put in this slot. In fact, I almost chose “Rebellions.” But this is the first song, your entrance to the best album of the 2000s.
So go listen to the album straight through, and you’ll never hear music the same again.
A common saying people reserve for small towns often goes something like this: If you blink, you’ll miss it.
You could say this about Dallas Academy.
Dallas Academy is a tiny private school north of the city, in the area next to White Rock Lake. The school has all the amenities of modern schools; it’s just exceptionally small. The main building is probably the size of a local restaurant and hides behind a curve on the road and several trees, obscuring it from view.
On Friday, I sped over to Dallas Academy and, of course, had to break and swerve to make the turn when I finally caught the glimpse of the school.
I was there to write about a miracle victory.
***
At about 10 a.m. that day, I got an e-mail from my editor asking me to do a story about this team. As someone new to this job, I knew nothing about Dallas Academy. It’s sort of a general rule about all the work I do as a newcomer to high school sports coverage: I know nothing.
Anyways, in the e-mail, he wrote that their girls basketball team defeated another team that I know nothing about by one point. This mattered because Dallas Academy hadn’t won in EIGHT years.
It gets worse.
Last year, Dallas Academy lost to another private school team 100-0. The coach, Jeremy Civello, talked about how proud he was that his team battled. However, he decided to cancel the rest of the team’s season.
Soon, the story made national headlines.
Good Morning America shot a feature of the team from their home gymnasium, as did the Early Show. A player told me Ellen almost invited them on to her show. Nike sponsored them, giving them a free trip to the NBA All-Star Game. They got the opportunity to sit close to LeBron and Paul Pierce.
I had no idea any of this happened until Friday morning, when I got that e-mail.
I called the school’s principal, who said the team was leaving to go back to the tournament in 45 minutes. So that’s why I sped over there.
I parked in the back of the school, next to two small school buses reserved for the athletic teams, and walked around to the front door.
They were all gathered in the office, in a completely comfortable manner, as if they were a family settled around a fireplace.
They tried recounting what happened on Thursday night. They couldn’t quite do it. Laughter interrupted every single thought.
Four girls began talking at once, then the coach interrupted them and then the principal wanted to say something and then another girl wanted to make a comment about the coach’s husband and he started laughing and then another girl who couldn’t make it to the game said how she couldn’t believe it when one of the players texted her to say they won.
I have never seen a group of more joyous people. You probably don’t believe this, and that is natural.
People in sports often go overboard to describe the routine. Announcers call three-pointers and dunks “unbelievable.” Dick Vitale anoints North Carolina players who average seven points a game “special.”
The over-usage takes away the luster. Miracles don’t mean as much when any comeback victory fits the mold.
So when life intersects with sports and something really is “special” and “unbelievable,” those descriptive words don’t fit.
Friday brought forth that kind of situation. That room was filled with literal bliss. This was your favorite song, the first time you hear it. This was a feeling that transcended words.
But I had to describe it.
My job was to recreate this feeling and put it into 400 words so the miniscule number of people who still read newspapers could experience the joy present in that room.
I tried to describe it. But I know I didn’t succeed. Hemingway couldn’t have. Well, he probably could have. Mere mortals, though, couldn’t.
So instead, I give you the attempt and wish you all could have sat in that glorious room for just a few minutes.
***
DALLAS — Nine victorious girls, a coach and her husband and the headmaster sat in the main office of tiny Dallas Academy on Friday, cramming into small couches and chairs and spilling out onto the floor.
They teased Jeremy Civello, the husband and last year’s coach, for leaving the game early. They recounted how half the boys team met them at Schlotzsky’s afterwards and dog-piled them as soon as they got off the bus. They repeated the word amazing, with major emphasis on the “UH,” often between long bouts of laughter.
If you want a concrete image to describe satisfaction, it was this room.
Dallas Academy defeated Johnson County, 34-33, on Thursday, the school’s first victory in eight years.
The girls laughed freely, the way one would laugh at graduations or weddings, because they could now forget the past. They could forget about the losing streak and last season’s infamous 100-0 loss.
“We had just been waiting to win one game,” senior Teodora Palacios said. “We broke it.”
Given the team’s record, nobody saw this coming, particularly after the first quarter.
Dallas Academy trailed, 9-0. Then the Bulldogs caught fire.
They pulled within seven in the second quarter, and then Lauren Oelke made a half-court shot at the halftime buzzer.
“When I made the half-court shot,” she said, “I lit up.”
Oelke, new to the team this year, scored 31 points, more than double her career high. She made a free throw with under a minute left to give her team its 34-33 lead. From there, they waited for what seemed like an eternity.
Senior Jackie Alas held coach Deanna Civello’s hand on the bench. On the court, the five girls made a stop and then dribbled and passed until the clock ran out.
“That was the best minute they ever played,” Civello said.
When time did expire, Civello said she had never seen her players’ eyes that wide. And of course, the girls screamed. They screamed, expressing an achievement they hadn’t experienced in high school.
“Everybody there watching us,” Alas said, “was like ‘why are they screaming? They won by one point.’ But they don’t understand. We haven’t won in five years.”
As soon as Alas finished her thought, they all reminded her that it had been eight years, and the room erupted with deep laughter again.
It’s that time of year again. That time for hot cocoa, and Plaza Christmas lights, and most importantly, Christmas music.
It’s that time of year when you put your iTunes “Christmas” playlist on repeat, curl up with a good book, and reflect on another year.
We’re pretty sure everybody has their favorite Christmas song.
There are people who love listening to Mariah Carey sing about what she wants for Christmas.*
*Believe it or not, all she wants is you.
There are those who love to walk in a winter wonderland. There are those who want to have themselves a merry little Christmas. There are those who turn on Bruce and wait for Santa Clause to come to town.
And there are those who dream of a white Christmas. Of course, all those songs are wonderful in there own way…
But every year, I always come back to one song — “Fairytale of New York” by the great Irish band, The Pogues.
That song –- in all its raw genius –- is Christmas time.
The song, of course, starts off with the famous line…
“It was Christmas eve, babe… in the drunk tank…”
So you know it’s not going to be your normal Christmas song…
But there’s more than that.
The song is about a guy remembering the Christmases he’d spent in New York city with an old flame.
And the song just makes you feel Christmas.
You can feel the wind in your face. You can feel the scarf around your neck. You can feel the Christmas ale on your tongue, and you can smell the Christmas tree in your living room.
And most of all, you can feel Christmas in the city.
“They’ve got cars big as bars
They’ve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It’s no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me.”
Maybe it’s because I’m Irish, or maybe it’s because I’ve been to Galway Bay, or maybe it’s because there’s something great about putting on a sweater and stocking cap and walking around a big city during the Christmas season.
Or maybe… You can just imagine being there, in this song. And that’s why the fairytale will always play, every December, forever.
“Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day…”
”…I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can’t make it all alone
I’ve built my dreams around you
…And The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells are ringing out
For Christmas Day”
Kids have Chrismukah lists, Kelly Clarkson (or Vanessa Williams, whichever you version you prefer) has a grown-up Christmas list, mom has a longer than usual grocery list, Rustin Dodd just made a Christmas movies list, TIME has end of the year and decade lists and soon so will just about any other form of media.
Everyone loves a good list.
With that in mind, here is a nice December addition of List Mania. For those not in the know, List Mania is an ode to Joe Posnanski, who famously wrote lists until one day, many years ago, he wrote a column saying he would never list again.
So here goes…
Two ideal next jobs for Mark Mangino (not including obvious weight-related jokes, like donut taster)
1. Lumberjack (who’s better at sawing wood?)
2. Stunt double for a movie about “Baby Mangino”
Three places where Mark Mangino need not apply for work (not including obvious weight-related jokes, like a gym)
1. The BCS committee
2. KU Parking
3. Philosophy department (We all know Mangino never deals with hypotheticals)
Three regular songs that sound like Christmas songs
1. Vanessa Carlton, “1,000 Miles*”
2. Michael Buble, “Home”
3. Norah Jones, “Don’t Know Why”
*And this is not because it was featured on one of those old Christmas jewelry/Lexus holiday commercials. Trust me, listen, and you’ll think Christmas.
Four really good modern Christmas songs
1. “Winter Song” by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson
2. “Christmases When You Were Mine” by Taylor Swift
3. “Believe” by Josh Groban
4. “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” by NSync
Five places you never visit once you graduate college
1. The library
2. The student union
3. The rec center
4. Office hours
5. The quad
Six reasons why, if not for Stephen Colbert, no one would have even noticed that the Winter Olympics begin in about two months
1. Usain Bolt and the Jamaican bobsled team didn’t make it.
2. When the water is frozen, Michael Phelps can’t swim as well.
3. Campbell’s got rid of those Nancy Kerrigan commercials a long time ago.
4. Bode Miller hasn’t partied often enough.
5. The Russian judges can’t cause controversy like they used to.
6. They’re in Canada.
Three of the best Kansas City ways to enjoy the Christmas season
1. A drive through Mission Hills
2. Ice skating at Crown Center
3. Dinner at the Plaza
Two people who weren’t considered for flipping the lights at the Plaza on Thanksgiving night
1. Larry Johnson
2. Mayor Mark Funkhouser’s wife
One disturbing, yet entertaining holiday Web site to check out
1. Sketchy Santas
Five college basketball players who are as fun to watch as John Wall
1. Xavier Henry, Kansas
2. Greg Monroe, Georgetown
3. Denis Clemente, Kansas State
4. James Anderson, Oklahoma State
5. Isaiah Thomas, Washington
Four wishes for 2010
1. USA making it out of pool play in the World Cup
2. The ending of the Tiger Woods media frenzy
3. Matt Cassell having a QB rating higher than 34
4. Sherron Collins getting drafted in the first round
Six questions
1. Did he get her a Jared?
2. What happened in Vegas?
3. Did Sarah Palin mean rouge, instead of rogue?
4. How long until one of Tiger Woods’ mistresses writes a book?
5. Could Scot Pollard please replace Greg Gurley on the Jayhawk Network?
6. Do you hear what I hear?
The other day I was listening to sports talk radio. Now, I must say that I have a strange relationship with sports talk radio. On the one hand, I find it to be one of the lowest forms of communication known to man. And on the other hand, I sometimes find it enjoyable — I’ve even been known to set my alarm o’clock at a certain time so I can catch a few minutes of The Border Patrol on 810 WHB in Kansas City. And I even hosted my own sports talk show on KU’s college radio station, KJHK, when I was an undergrad.
Like I said, I have a strange relationship with sports talk radio. It can be brainless. Incoherent. Narcissistic. Overly sensational. Angry. And most of all, it can just be rather disgraceful what journalism.
But then I can hear Bob Costas or Dan Patrick, or my boys on The Border Patrol, Nate Bukaty and Steven St. John, and sports talk can be destination radio.
I suppose all mediums can be good and bad. But it does seems like there’s nothing worse than bad sports talk radio.
And at this point, I should probably tell you that this post is actually about The 10 Best Christmas Movies of All-Time. (As you could probably tell by the title. Trust me. It’s coming.)
How’d we get on sports talk radio? Well, because the post started there, and then I got on a roll and started feeling it.
Let’s get back on track. So I’m listening to sports talk radio the other day. I think it was Mike and Mike in the Morning on ESPN.com. In fact, I know it was Mike and Mike. So there having an odd discussion about Christmas movies. I think I missed the beginning of it. Anyway, they were debating whether the movie, Die Hard, should be considered a Christmas movie.
We’ll get to Die Hard in a minute. And then maybe this will all make sense. But let’s just assume most people have seen Die Hard. I mean, c’mon, who hasn’t?
Well, let’s just say I was utterly blown away (no pun intended). Die Hard is a Christmas movie. This is not even a debate. Yes. It’s an action movie – and an iconic one — but that doesn’t preclude it from also being a Christmas movie.
I suppose it’s a little bit like arguing that Jerry McGuire isn’t sports movie. You know, somebody might say, “Oh, that’s not a sports movie, that’s a romantic comedy/drama posing as sports movie.”
And I suppose that could be the came. But how come it can’t be both.
Die Hard is an action movie that takes place during a holiday party in LA. Its soundtrack features multiple Christmas songs – including Run DMC’s classic tune, “Christmas in Hollis.” So yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.
And it was at this moment that I began to think about other Christmas movies. For example: If you made a Top 10 list of the best Christmas movies, which ones would be on it? What would be your starting five? And if you really break it down, what is the greatest Christmas movie of all-time?
In the end, lists are kind of a funny thing. We enjoy ranking things. Even things that are obviously subjective. And I’m not exactly sure why.
But really, the whole purpose is to spur a little thought and discussion. And in this case, to remember the ghosts of Christmas cinema past.
So here goes…
First, we’re starting with two sentimental honorable mentions.
1. To Grandmother’s House We Go
Released: Dec. 6, 1992
Anybody else remember this one? This was a made-for-TV movie that starred the (very young) Olsen Twins. In fact, I’m pretty sure this was their first movie following their “Full House” days. So this gets a mention for a couple of reasons.
1. You could make the argument that this movie kicked off the Olsen Twins mania that would dominate pre-teen pop culture in the late 90s.*
*If you were really trying, I bet you make a case that the Olsen Twins were the real-world precursor to the unstoppable force that is Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus. Miley’s career is really starting to parallel the Olsens’. Childhood star. Crossover into mainstream fame. And then a major breakdown flanked by eating disorders, rehab and sketchy older boyfiends. OK, so none of that’s happened to Miley, yet. (We hope.) And we’re praying for you Miley. You can make it!
2. The movie was essentially about a set of twins that felt unloved at home, so they ran off and tried to find their way to their grandmother’s house for Christmas. At least, that’s how I remember it. Anyway the Olsen Twins get kidnapped by some old criminals (including one of the co-stars from the TV show “Coach.”) and (minimal) hilarity ensues. But the classic moment comes at the end when the Olsen Twins are trying to convince a police officer to do a good deed on Christmas Eve, and the Olsen Twins convince him by chanting, “Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve…”
How about this… just watch the chant at 1:45 of this video. (Then check out a cameo from Rebecca Donaldson and Danny Tanner at the end.)
2. A Very Brady Christmas
Released: 1998
This is another classic made-for-TV Christmas movie. All the Bradys get together for a good ol’ fashioned Brady family Christmas.
The highlights?
Bobby is in his 20s and wants to be racecar driver. There’re plenty of awkward moments between Mrs. Brady (Florence Henderson) and Greg Brady (Barry Williams). And at the end, Mike Brady gets stuck in a building collapse. But don’t worry. He’s able to free himself when the Bradys start singing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”
Seriously, You can’t make this stuff up.
The only lowlight? The actress that played Cindy Brady didn’t want to take part, so they had to find a replacement.
OK, on to the Top 10.
10. Home Alone 2: Lost in New York
Released: Nov. 20, 1992
Director: Chris Columbus
Writer: John Hughes
So, yea, this should probably be higher. But we’re sticking it at No. 10 for a few reasons. And you’ll see one of those in a minute. But this is still one of the highest-grossing films of the 90’s. It also features one of Rob Schneider’s original on-screen roles… Just a great movie.
…And it’s filled with classic lines.
“My family’s in Florida, and I’m in New York?
“Do you guys mind if I work on my cannonballs?”
“You know Herbert Hoover once stayed on this floor?”
“The vaccum guy?”
And then there’s the best one — the memorable scene in the hotel when MaCauley Culkin uses the Talkback to order the Plaza hotel room…
“(In slow-motion) Howdy-do. This is Peter McCallister, the father. I’d like a hotel room, please, with an extra large bed, a TV, and one of those little refrigerators you have to open with a key… credit card? You got it.”
Add in the feel-good scenes with the homeless bird lady in the park, and it’s definitely in our top 10.
9. Scrooged
Released: Nov. 23, 1988
Director: Richard Donner
Writers: Mitch Glazer and Michael O’Donoghue
Anytime you have Bill Murray starring in a modern remake of “A Christmas Carol,” — well, you know it’s going to be good.
8. The Nightmare Before Christmas
Released: Oct. 29, 1993
Director: Henry Selick
Writer: Tim Burton
This is just a solid movie. But there are two things that really propel it to the eighth spot on the list.
1.) It has groundbreaking animation, and… 2.) It has an award-winning soundtrack and score written by Danny Elfman.
And the highlight of the soundtrack is Elfman’s catchy tune, “’What’s This?”
Listen to it once… and you’ll be hooked.
7. Die Hard
Released: July 15, 1988
Director: John McTiernan
We talked about. And we could write for days about this movie. It’s that groundbreaking, that important… and that much fun to watch.
“Now I have a machine gun, ho… ho… ho.”
Think about this…
How many movies in the past 20 years revolved around a seemingly normal guy single-handedly foiling a large group of terrorists, soldiers, bad guys, etc?
Really, think about it — Speed, Under Siege, Passenger 57, Sudden Death, The Rock. And so on.
And if you need more proof that it’s a Christmas movie, just watch the ending credits.
6. Miracle on 34th Street (Original)
Released: May 2, 1947
Director: George Seaton
Miracle on 34th Street (Remake)
Released: Nov. 18, 1994
Director: Les Mayfield
Let’s just say this: If we all watched the endings of both “34th Street” movies on a continuous loop, I’m pretty sure the world would be a better place. Here’s the trailer.
5. White Christmas
Released: October 14, 1954
Director: Michael Curtiz
Writers: Norman Krasna and Norman Panama
Now we’re getting to the classics.
And let’s break it down. Here’s what you have with White Christmas.
You have two legendary entertainers — Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye — at the top of their games.
Simply put, you have a slice of 1950s Americana, a portrait of when the world was a simpler place – or at least, it seemed that way.
(To be honest, this is a little bit of a sentimental choice. My family used to watch this movie together every December around the holidays. Here’s guessing my family has your family beat in the cheesy/lame family category.)
4. A Christmas Story
Released: Nov. 18, 1983
Director: Bob Clark
Writer: Jean Shepherd
It kills me. That this is four. It just kills me. But what are you gonna do?
Here’s the funny thing: This movie didn’t have a lot of success in the theaters. In fact, it got a lot of negative reviews.
According to some critics, it had something to do with the movie being directed by the same guy that directed Porky’s*.
*Man, what a career that guy had.
But finally, by the mid-1990s, the movie was a staple on the cable movie channels during the Holidays. And in 1997, TNT started airing “24 hours of A Christmas Story” on Christmas Eve. By 2004, the marathon had moved to TBS and we’d never look at Ralphie the same again.
Here’s another funny thing: I’ve probably seen every part of this movie over a dozen times. But I think I’ve only sat down and watched the movie straight through once or twice.
Sorry Ralphie.
But there really are so many wonderful scenes.
When the Dad gets the leg-lamp in the mail… “It’s a major award.”
When Ralphie finally gets the B.B. gun, “You’ll shot your eye out.”
Any scene with Scut Farkus.
When they go to the Chinese restaurant… “Fararara ra ra ra ra”
But for some reason, the flagpole scene has always been my absolute favorite. Raphie’s friend, Flick, of course, gets his tongue stuck to the flagpole at recess. But my favorite part comes when the kids go back inside, and Ralphie’s teacher asks where Flick went.
The narrator’s voice slays me every time.
Ralphie: (in Narrator’s voice) Flick? Flick who?
3. Love Actually
Released: Nov. 14, 2003
Director: Richard Curtis
Writer: Richard Curtis
OK, here’s the question. This is the most recent movie on the list. So what will think about it in 25 years? Will we still consider it a classic Christmas movie. I say, yes.
And not only is it one of the best Christmas movies ever, I’m saying this is one of the best 10 movies of the 2000’s. It’s that good.
(Or maybe I just love British accents.)
Anyway. The ensemble cast is perfect. The interweaving plot lines are perfect. And Kiera Knightley is perfect.
And this scene (yes, you know the one) is perfect.
2. Home Alone
Released: Nov. 16, 1990
Director: Chris Columbus
Writer: John Hughes
…And this was the reason we were a little hard on Home Alone 2.
Here’s the thing about Home Alone… Give me a more memorable and iconic movie for people between the ages of 20 and 30. You can’t.
Really. This is the one.
For our generation, it’s The Lion King, Toy Story and Home Alone. Those are the three. And if you’re a boy, you probably throw The Sandlot in there, too.
Say the following word to anyone under 30… “Buzz’s girlfriend, woof.” … and they’ll know exactly what you’re talking about.
On the plus side, this movie gave us MaCauley Culkin. And in turn, that gave up Culkin’s peformance in Michael Jackson’s “Black and White” video. Thank you, MJ.
1. Christmas Vacation
Released: Dec. 1, 1989
Director: Jeremiah S. Chechik
Writer: John Hughes
This. One. Has. It. All.
Comedy. Heart. Family. And the greatest Christmas rant ever.
And I suppose if you’re a relativist, you’d say there are no certainties. But that’s a conversation for – well, probably never.
Point is, when you find something that is certainly true — something that is absolutely concrete — you have to hold on tight.
For example…
You don’t have to be Dave Grohl* to know that Arcade Fire write beautiful songs. You don’t have to be Ollie Gates to know that ribs are good. And you don’t have to be Hemingway to know good prose.
*I once heard a story that Dave Grohl, the brilliant frontman for the Foo Fighters and former drummer for Nirvana, started each morning by listening to Arcade Fire’s song, “Keep the Car Running.” I don’t know for sure if this story is true. But it’s a great story, so I’m going to go ahead and believe it.
In the same way, you don’t have to be an athletic scholar to know that the state of professional sports in Kansas City is a depressing mix of suck-titude and despair.
The Royals haven’t won a World Series in 24 years. The Chiefs haven’t won a Super Bowl since Nixon was in the Oval office.
The Royals have had one full winning season in the last two decades. The Chiefs haven’t won a playoff game since 1993.
This evidence is, of course, true.
But I started thinking about it more this past weekend, when I saw a young kid wearing a Zack Greinke jersey.
The kid couldn’t have been more than 10-years-old. Though, I have to admit I’ve become pretty awful with ages.
The kid in the Greinke jersey stirred up a few emotions.
First I thought… well, good. Greinke’s getting a little love for his Cy Young season.
And then I thought about the nature of sports jerseys in general. After all, Christmas is coming up, and when you’re 10-years-old, there aren’t many better gifts than an authentic professional sports jersey.
I can still remember the feeling of receiving a Tamarick Vanover jersey from Santa in 1996. You know, it was never over until it was Vanover. That jersey was about a XXXXXL, and it probably still wouldn’t fit me today.*
*Somebody really needs to go back in time to the mid-90s and tell all the grade school boys that it’s really not that fashionable to wear your T-shirts seven sizes too big.
The Vanover jersey was cool because it was different. Other kids at school had Derrick Thomas jerseys. Some had Steve Bono’s. One kid had a Lake Dawson jersey. Kudos to that kid, too.
Yes, there was something special about that Vanover jersey. Even if he did end up serving time in prison for financing a drug trafficking ring with fellow Chief Bam Morris. It was the only Chiefs jersey I ever had. And it’ll probably be the last one, too.
*****
So here’s the essential question. If you’re the parent of a 10-year-old kid in Kansas City, what jersey do you buy your kid for Christmas or Hanukkah* or Festivus**.
We all can agree that, right now, Greinke is the obvious choice. Cy Young. Best pitcher in baseball. Quirky, but…by all accounts a great kid. And so on.
But let’s forget about Greinke for a second. And for that matter, let’s also forget that – if things don’t go well for the Royals – Greinke could very well be pitching in the World Series for the Red Sox or Dodgers or Rays in 2014 (or – gasp! – even sooner.)
So who else?*
*And for our purposes, let’s forget about college sports for the moment. The easy answer is to go out and buy your kid a Kansas, K-State or Mizzou jersey. But we’re talking professional sports here.
Matt Cassell?
This would be another obvious choice. He’s got the New England-pedigree. The leading-man looks. He’s also got the $60 million contract, so you’d think he be staying around for a while.
But then again. He’s also has a 72.3 passer rating and he’s quarterbacking a 3-9 football team. I still have confidence in Cassell – at least, confidence that if he can’t be Brady, he can at least be Pennington.
But I’m not so sure I’d want to invest in a Cassell jersey. Especially with Todd Haley around. Ask all those Cardinals fans if they’re happy that they bought Matt Leinart jerseys.
There are a few obvious candidates.
You might mention Billy Butler. And this would be OK. He did have a breakout season, 51 doubles, 21 homers, the .301 batting average. And he’s got the down-home country persona – a definite plus.
You might mention Joakim Soria. And he’s a definitely sleeper candidate. He’s one of the five best closers in baseball and he’s dependable – in addition to being arguably the nicest professional athlete in town.
But then again, both of those guys play for the Royals. And who knows if Soria will get traded or Butler will plateau. Butler will probably be around for a few more years at least, and then who knows?
The point is… there is a increasing shortage of popular and marketable athletes in Kansas City.
And why is that? Because there is also an increasing shortage of talented athletes in Kansas City.
*****
I would imagine that the kid in the Greinke jersey is just finding this out.
That kid is only 10. And I’m sure he’s still operating under the assumption that the Royals actually have a chance to win the World Series next season. And that the Chiefs will have a puncher’s chance in the AFC West if they draft Eric Berry or Dez Bryant.
Poor kid.
So, yes, it’s been pretty lousy in Kansas City for a lot of years.
And if you’re under the age of 25, you only know heartbreak and pain.
You know the pain of Lin Elliot in 1995. You know the pain of the 1994 baseball strike killing crippling the Royals’ future. You know the pain of a home playoff loss to John Elway and the Broncos in 1997. You know the pain of watching Carlos Beltran leave Kansas City. You know the pain of the Royals folding down the stretch in 2003. The pain doesn’t end there, but you get the idea…
*****
But here’s the truth. Yes, it hurts to be a 20-year-old or 25-year-old sports fan in Kansas City. But imagine if you were 10?
Seriously. How much would that suck? At the very most, you probably only consciously remember the last five or six years of Kansas City sports. And your only sports memories come from this period.
Think about it. If you’re 10, you don’t know Derrick Thomas. You don’t know Neil Smith. You barely know Priest Holmes. You don’t remember Johnny Damon in Kansas City, or even Carlos Beltran. You might remember Mike Sweeney – but you just remember that he was the religious guy with the bad back.
Here’s what you do know.
You know the Royals have lost 100 games three times since 2004 – and they’ve lost 90 games in five of the last six years. You know the Chiefs are 9-35 in their last three seasons – and at one point had lost 28 of 30 games.
You know the Royals once had an outfielder who scaled the outfield wall to try to rob a homer when the ball hit on the warning track. You know the Royals once lost a game because the shortstop lost the ball in the Sun because his Sunglasses order hadn’t arrived yet.* And you know the Royals once lost a game because their first baseman got hit in the face with relay throw.
*He supposedly wore Sunglasses on the flight home to cover his black eye.
You know the Chiefs once decided that Brodie Croyle would be their quarterback of the future. You know the Chiefs once started a guy named Tyler Thigpen – a guy who got cut from the Vikings in 2006 because the Vikes knew they couldn’t do without Tarvaris Jackson, Drew Henson or Brooks Bollinger. Yes. Those were the three quarterbacks that the Vikings kept. And you only know Larry Johnson because he’s the reason your mom won’t let you log onto Twitter anymore.
And still. I think of the kid in the Greinke jersey. Poor kid.
He probably won’t be getting any more jerseys this December. That’s OK. He’s already got the only one that matters.
This thought came to me slowly.
It came to me as I was reading another take on Tiger Wood. Another attempt at making sense of the whole situation. More words devoted to analyzing Woods thoughts and motives and psyche.
More noise. Lots and lots of noise.
And for a second, it was all too much.
The greatest athlete in the world is mired in one the most bizarre stories of the decade.*
*OK, so this decade is over. Now what do we call it? The aughts? The 2000s? The aughties? More on this later.
And this story has everything. And, of course, we don’t know what is true. We don’t know what to believe. There are things that are plausible. And there are things we want to believe. And there are things that are hard to believe.
And then, there’s this: This whole Tiger story could be the biggest sports story in the world right now. At the very least, it’s the most fascinating. And it’s definitely the most bizarre.
And the one place that seems to be grabbing every morsel of information… the one place that seems to be breaking every new scoop is … wait for it … TMZ.com.
TMZ? You know what’s funny. Until about two days ago – when I was researching information about this Tiger story for work – I had know idea what TMZ stood for.
Funny, I always just figured the “M” stood for media. You know. It was a gossip site. It had lots of funny pictures of celebrities doing weird stuff. It was kind of like Deadspin.com for girls. So “M” must stand for media, right? No. It actually stands for Thirty-Mile Zone, a nickname for the area around the Hollywood studios. Ain’t life great?
The story is nearly two weeks old now. It seems like every few minutes, we hear about another woman – another mistress – who claims to have been with Tiger for two months or 21 months or three years.
This will probably continue until TMZ and E! and all the other gossip-hounds call off the dogs.
Like Andy Dufresne in Shawshank, they are swimming through a river of (stuff). But this river is flooding and even Tiger can’t fix the levees.
But you know what? From the beginning, I didn’t care much about the (stuff).
Yes, it was scandalous. And yes, the details of Tiger’s car accident were more than bizarre. And yes, people are drawn to affairs.
We want to know why people cheat. Why would this guy cheat? And yes, we probably all had these thoughts.
But for the majority of people, I don’t think this Tiger story was about the river of (stuff).
For most, this story has been about Tiger.
And perhaps you can’t separate the two — the (stuff) and the man — but that doesn’t mean we aren’t trying.
And I think that’s been the story the whole time.
How would he handle this? What would he do next? Where will this story go?
And for me, it all comes back to one thought…
The Machine is mauling Tiger Woods.
The Machine… is winning.
*****
This is the thought that has been marinating somewhere in the back of mind for the past week.
We all know the basic story of Tiger Woods.
We know he was child prodigy and he became an amateur champ and he went to Stanford. He turned pro and he won the Masters in ’97 and he became an international icon – and advertiser.*
*(I am Tiger Woods.)
But of course, we didn’t know much more about the guy.
And that was fine. Because he won four majors in a row. And he won the U.S. on a broken leg.
He was a the Terminator with a 5-wood, a golfing savant who could dance out of trouble on the golf course with the flick of the wrist.
And this was all we needed. Yes, he was a golfing cyborg. But maybe he had to be, we thought. After all, who has a better chance against the Machine than another machine?
*****
And we are, back to the Machine.
And when I think of the Machine, I think of Earl Woods.
Most people seem to know the basics of Earl Woods.
They know he was Tiger’s father, and that he raised and molded the greatest golfer of all-time.
Most seem to recall that he served as a green beret in Vietnam.
And they remember that Earl gave his son the name. Tiger.
The name, of course, was the nickname of one of Earl’s army buddies — a colonel in the Vietnamese army named Vuong Dang Phong.
But most people – even people from the Kansas – seem to forget that Earl Woods was a Kansan.
They forget that he was raised in Manhattan in the late 30s and early 40s. They forget that he was the first black baseball player at Kansas State, the first black player in the history of the Big Eight.
They forget that Earl Woods is buried in Manhattan. His childhood home… and the place where he learned the brutal truth about discrimination.
But years after Earl Woods suffered the racial abuse. Years after he was barred from staying in hotels in small Midwestern college town. Years after all that, Earl Woods would give birth to a son. And he would teach his son the game of golf.
And 20 years later, in 1996, Tiger Woods was on the verge of conquering the world.
He was the greatest talent the game of golf had ever seen. And now that the world was getting to know Tiger Woods, Earl wanted the world to know this:
Tiger wasn’t just a golfer. He was going to change the world.
*****
And he we are, back to the machine…
So, yes, we’ve been thinking about Tiger and the women and Earl.
But this thought keeps weaving its way back to the words of Gary Smith.
Smith, of course, is the brilliant senior writer at Sports Illustrated. In most circles, he is the best sportswriter in the country. And he may well be the greatest non-fiction writer of any kind.
Well, in 1996, Smith crafted a complete manifesto on Tiger’s battle against the Machine.
Smith, like everyone else, wondered this:
Could Tiger come through? Could he meet expectations? Could he maneuver through the media, overcome fame’s temptations, and grind against the spoils of money and power? Could he dodge the grenades that are heaved at our most revered celebrities?
Could he live up to Earl’s vision?
Here is an excerpt from the story:
It was ordinary. It was oh so ordinary. It was a salad, a dinner roll, a steak, a half potato, a slice of cake, a clinking fork, a podium joke, a ballroom full of white-linen-tablecloth conversation. Then a thick man with tufts of white hair rose from the head table. His voice trembled and his eyes teared and his throat gulped down sobs between words, and everything ordinary was cast out of the room.
“Please forgive me…but sometimes I get very emotional…when I talk about my son…. My heart…fills with so…much…joy…when I realize…that this young man…is going to be able…to help so many people…. He will transcend this game…and bring to the world…a humanitarianism…which has never been known before. The world will be a better place to live in…by virtue of his existence…and his presence…. I acknowledge only a small part in that…in that I know that I was personally selected by God himself…to nurture this young man…and bring him to the point where he can make his contribution to humanity…. This is my treasure….
Mr. Woods? Do you mean more than Joe Louis and Jackie Robinson, more than Muhammad Ali and Arthur Ashe?
“More than any of them because he’s more charismatic, more educated, more prepared for this than anyone.”
Anyone, Mr. Woods? Your son will have more impact than Nelson Mandela, more than Gandhi, more than Buddha?
“Yes, because he has a larger forum than any of them. Because he’s playing a sport that’s international. Because he’s qualified through his ethnicity to accomplish miracles. He’s the bridge between the East and the West. There is no limit because he has the guidance. I don’t know yet exactly what form this will take. But he is the Chosen One. He’ll have the power to impact nations. Not people. Nations. The world is just getting a taste of his power.”
*****
And here we are, back to the machine.
The thought has been stewing in mind for days. Dancing somewhere in the back, then coming to the front whenever another woman came forward with another story — another steamy allegation.
And then I opened Sports Illustrated.
No doubt, Smith had been paying attention to the story, to the details, to the battle that Tiger was losing.
Smith wanted to weigh in – he had to weigh in.
And so he wrote this:
“…For 13 years Tiger beat the machine. Sort of. He kept it backpedaling, never giving it much to grasp and grind. But to do that he had to hide in front of the world’s eyes, seal himself in a bubble. His humanitarianism manifested in efforts to help children and fund a cutting-edge academic complex in California, and his domination of a pale-faced sport opened millions of eyes. But world-altering? Unless Tiger figured out how to change humanity without showing his own, Gandhi and Mandela were safe.
“…Perhaps there was a price to be paid for sealing himself in that bubble, dark energies that built up and had to find release. Tiger’s response thus far has been to reseal and retreat even further, but the machine, at last, is rallying, its molars multiplying with every mouse click.
****
And he we are, back to the Machine.
And we don’t know what’s coming next for Tiger. We can’t know.
We hear so many things and so many stories. And how can we know what is true, and what is false, and what is located in that fuzzy gray area in between.
Tiger will hit more golf balls. He will win more majors. He will still be the greatest golfer of all-time.
And perhaps that is enough.
But here it comes again. Here comes the Machine.
The one obstacle he couldn’t climb… the one opponent he couldn’t outlast… the one rival he couldn’t conquer.
And from the looks of it, the man never had a chance.
For two hours the other night, four heavily-tanned men hollered at morally questionable women, fought a man who dared look at them and spent plenty of quality time getting jacked. In the same time frame, four self-described “classy” women, also bronzed past the point of comfort, detailed their desire to hook up with guidos and called any girl who was not her a “slut” or a “whore.”
Strangely, I couldn’t change the channel, and I suspect that there is only one way to describe this phenomena: I was vibing.
Not familiar with that word? Don’t worry. No one is. At least, no one was.
MTV changed that.
Yes, on Thursday night MTV aired the first episode of the reality series, “Jersey Shore.” In short, this is a show about eight guidos, an obnoxious subculture of Italian-Americans, living together on the East Coast.
But that’s just a cosmetic description. For those of us in the Midwest, the show is eye-opening confirmation of what had been a mystery. We have finally discovered that there really are people who act like complete meatheads and are proud of it.
Others have been equally impressed. Notably, the Web site “Gawker,” has gone as far as to call “Jersey Shore” a reality TV show revolution.
And Gawker is correct.
Reality shows have long been artificial. Paris Hilton looking down on farmhands in Arkansas is not real. Living with 15 jerks and Elisabeth Hasselbeck on a deserted island and eating worms is not real.
Neither is vying for the love of a 50-year-old washed up rapper with gold teeth who can say his name in a mildly funny tone, or attending Tool Academy.*
*I just found out what this show was on Saturday. Later that day, I read a blog on Joe Posnanski’s Web site about Tiger Woods and in it, he mentions “Tool Academy” because apparently one of Woods’ alleged mistresses appeared on that show. He didn’t know what it was either. There are so many reality shows out there, and I bet most people couldn’t name half of them.
“Jersey Shore,” though, is real, more of a National Geographic special about the Galapagos Islands, than “Temptation Island.” Rather than put people in a fake, made-for-TV environment, MTV has filmed eight obnoxious people in their natural habitat, the Jersey Shore, or as the show’s creators cleverly wrote on a wall decoration in the house, “Nu Joisy.”
This is a true depiction of a culture where vibing is acceptable lingo for getting along well with someone or something, where men need 15 bottles of hair gel and an hour to prepare to “get after it,” and where a “situation” is not a state of affairs but rather an obnoxious man’s description of his abdomen muscles.
Indeed, Gawker’s blog about the show is not a story but a “field study.”
One thing missing from its study, though, is how truly captivating all this is to those of us who don’t live on the East Coast, among guidos.
Through the eyes of a Midwesterner, like video-taped activities of Amazonian tribes, the documentation of these people truly provides an educational experience, a lesson in the art of narcissism and abrasiveness.
Here in the Midwest, guidos were previously known almost entirely through the YouTube video “My New Haircut.”
This video features a young man who is sporting the same new greasy haircut all of his friends have. He is sitting at a bar ordering Jaeger bombs.
But before he does this, he talks of “stotting” fights. He calls the bartender “chief,” the same name that one of his friends uses for the desk worker at his apartment complex.
This friend, who has curly hair, is noticeably upset. There is, of course, a plausible reason. His mother has forgotten to restock his protein stash.
Without protein, he can’t grunt while “getting his swell on” at the gym so people can see how “jacked and tan” he is.
Without protein, he can’t join his friend at the bar, who by the end of the video, has yelled Jaeger bomb several times while wildly gesturing to no one in particular, before slamming his drink in one gulp.
People like this are rarely, if ever, seen in Midwest cities.
Instead, arrogance reaches its peak with the collar popper, a person so cool that his neck is adversely affected by cold climates causing him to fold up the uppermost part of his polo, and even that subset of jerk is quickly fading.
We hear about guidos from college friends who hail from New York, New Jersey, Boston or another East Coast city. We might even catch glimpses of them if we travel to those places, if we visit bars in those places.
But we really knew guidos only from “My New Haircut.”
It all seemed like a joke. People didn’t actually act like that. They couldn’t actually act like that.
But now we have “Jersey Shore.” Already, by watching only one program, I’ve learned so much.
Guidos are actually just the males. Girls are called guidettes. These women love guidos and as one expresses, her desire is to meet the ultimate guido one day and start a guido family.
The males and females share several characteristics. They love to spray chemicals in their hair for long periods of time. They often own personal tanning beds. They have nicknames, ranging from “The Situation,” to “Snookie” to “J-Woww.”
Despite these similarities, when placed in Seaside Heights, N.J., in a house that features a garage decorated with an Italian flag that has the outline of the state of New Jersey emblazoned in the middle, not surprisingly, the guidos and guidettes clash.
As one might predict, a disagreement breaks out because of “sluts.” The boys invite three of them into the hot tub, and the guidettes go crazy.
And it is all real. The fights, the people, ther personalities, everything except the steroid-produced muscles and surgery-enhanced physiques. THEY ARE REAL.
Mike, who goes by the name “The Situation” because he has the aforementioned abs, is not playing to the cameras when he convinces a girl shopping at the T-shirt store he works at to make pink shorts that read “We’ve Got a Situation” on the rear.
Other examples: Sammi, a guidette, spurns “The Situation,” even though she was clearly vibing with him and discussed with him this instance of vibing, stating solely that fellow housemate Donnie, a behemoth of a man with spiky hair, is hot.
Nicole aka Snookie really doesn’t know how to use a land-line telephone. Pauly D, at 29 years old, really does want to make out with two 20-year-old “sluts” at the same time and style his hair for 20 minutes every day.
These people aren’t provoked. This show is a medium for them to express their true desires and feelings, for them to demonstrate and educate to those of us who didn’t believe this type of behavior was possible, that they truly are attempting to reach hair-gelled, tanning-oil-soaked nirvana.
Of course, the depiction of the guidos and guidettes is causing a bit of controversy. Italian-Americans aren’t laughing so hard. Neither, I would suspect, is the state of New Jersey.
Before the post, some housekeeping: It’s been a while. Wow, looks like almost three weeks since either of us wrote a blog. Yikes. Well, here’s one, a genuine rambler about Andre Agassi that might or might not make sense. Anyways, let’s hope this starts a hot streak for more posts…
I finished reading the Andre Agassi autobiography a week or so ago.
Everyone knows about this book. We know because of the crystal meth. The passage has been repeated so many times.
Agassi does the drug more than once. He gives it up but not before he tests positive, lies to the ATP and gets released because the ATP believes his painfully bogus excuse.
And for about two weeks everyone cared. Katie Couric interviewed him on “60 Minutes.” Jim Rome talked about it on his TV show. People wrote columns. Sports Illustrated featured that segment in an issue. Ryan Seacrest* even had him on his radio show.
*I’ve now mentioned Ryan Seacrest in consecutive posts. Feel free to make fun of me as much as you please.
Once the meth passage broke, others weighed in. Andy Roddick stood up for Agassi, as did a few other players. Most didn’t. Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal expressed dismay, mainly because they said it tainted tennis.*
*This is completely ridiculous, especially for Nadal. Hard-core tennis fans will know that earlier this summer, he stood up for his friend, French tennis player Richard Gasquet, who tested positive for cocaine, another recreational drug. Yet, when Agassi, who did it 10 years earlier and confessed when he really had no need to do so, reveals himself to have done a recreational drug, Nadal expresses anger.
It’s unfortunate that his drug use has caused such a stir because that news has shrouded the importance of his biography. In it, he does what few public figures have done. He gives a clear image of one of the more complex athletes in recent history.
We finally meet the real Andre Agassi.
***
There’s a book, a wonderful book, called “Hard Courts.” John Feinstein wrote it, and in it, he details the 1990 season on the professional tennis tour. No one has written this complete of a book about tennis since.
He writes about a young kid with Greek ancestry named Pete Sampras who surprises everyone at that year’s U.S. Open.
He writes about John McEnroe, who threw maybe his most infamous temper tantrum at the 1990 Australian Open and had to forfeit his match.
He writes about Aaron Krickstein, a young Monica Seles, Peter Graf, the Davis Cup, a very young Jennifer Capriati, and of course, Andre Agassi.
At this point, Agassi was already the villain. He had refused to play at Wimbledon for a couple of years. Clothes, the media would say. Agassi wouldn’t play there because he didn’t want to trade his raggedy jean shorts and tropical t-shirts for Wimbledon white.
Feinstein also mentions his entourage. He talks about Phil Agassi, Gil Reyes and Nick Bolletieri and how they let Agassi get away with everything, how they coddled Agassi.
Feinstein’s view is clear. Other writers at the time were too. Mike Lupica, who Agassi singles out in his book, wrote several negative columns about him.
Agassi was a punk, they all said. He hurt the game because he didn’t care about tennis. He cared about winning fans with publicity stunts, strange fashion and long hair. He threw a Davis Cup match. And don’t even get them started on that “Image Is Everything” commercial.
In his book, Agassi explains. His brother was one of his best friends. They lived off three baked potatoes a day when he started his tennis career. Reyes transformed his body and mentored him in his personal life.
They were familiar. That’s why Agassi wanted them to stick close.
He didn’t throw Davis Cup matches. He tried harder in them.
He chose those strange looking jean shorts for Nike because John McEnroe turned them down, and he thought they looked cool. He didn’t think they would cause a stir.
His hair was long, because he didn’t know who he was yet. The hair was a coping mechanism.
Agassi notes he never told the media any of this because, well, he was immature and didn’t expect anyone to believe it.
But what if he did tell the truth?
If Agassi told us back then that he surrounded himself with his brother, his best friend and Gil Reyes because he was scared and immature; if he told us that he didn’t play Wimbledon because he hadn’t figured out the grass court game yet and wanted to save himself for the other majors; if he told us yeah, he did once throw a match but never would have done that at the Davis Cup; if he told us he shot the “Image” commercial in one quick take because he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend and didn’t think about the message, how would everything have changed?
We already had him penciled in as the rebel, the racket-carrying prima donna.
That was what we knew.
***
The 2006 U.S. Open rolled around, and this was the last go-round for Andre Agassi.
NBC aired a montage of his early, rebel years. The Who’s “Teenage Wasteland” played in the background. Then the background music changed and Agassi was bald and winning Grand Slams and earning admiration from crowds.
Yes, Agassi had transformed.
Writers, maybe the same ones who accused him of throwing matches, adored him for his apparent love for the game and the gentleman way he now carried himself off of it.
I recall watching the entire five sets of his second-round night match against Marcos Baghdatis. He easily won the first two sets, then lost the next two. By the end, both men could barely walk. And Agassi won.
He would play one more match, a loss against Benjamin Becker, and afterwards, Agassi blew kisses to the crowd and gave a speech. That had never been done before.
The loser, especially a loser in the U.S. Open’s third round, didn’t speak to the crowd. But we all loved Agassi.
Everyone loved Agassi. James Blake wore a retro, pink and black shirt with a bandana in his first round match out of respect for Agassi. Baghdatis admitted to emulating Agassi’s game when he grew up.
After that match against Becker, after the ovation and speech, all the men in the locker room, except for Jimmy Connors, stopped what they were doing and congratulated him.
In his book, Agassi details this. He also details how on the morning before his match against Baghdatis he thought about how he wanted everything to end and how he hated tennis.
No one knew any of that though. The 2006 U.S. Open was about Agassi because he had said all the right things.
But what if he told the truth?
If Agassi told us he hated tennis, that he couldn’t wait for it to end, that he lied about his love for the sport and how he wanted his son to love it as much as he did, how would everything have changed?
We loved Andre Agassi and thought of him as a hero, a legend, a person who had really changed.
That was what we knew.
***
It’s all out there, now. Everything. That’s why he called the book “Open.”
Who is Andre Agassi?
We finally know.
He hated tennis, hated how his father forced him to play it. He did throw a match once.
And yes, he tried meth when his career and personal life teetered toward disaster and lied about it. But he also donated lots of time and money to save a prematurely born child of one of his friends.
He wasn’t the devil wearing Nike of the early 90s or the saint of 2006.
The Brew House 