Fully Baked Zito

barry-zito-giantsBarry Zito has hit on a clever tactic to be left alone. In a GQ interview, he acknowledged that he was a Christian who enjoyed reading C.S. Lewis. His interviewer, Nathaniel Penn, gives what I think is an accurate recap of the public perception [certainly was mine] of Zito prior to the interview:

During his prime years with the Oakland Athletics, Barry Zito won the Cy Young, dated Alyssa Milano, surfed, played guitar, meditated, and generally personified that beloved baseball archetype: the flaky lefty. In 2006 he signed a massive, history-making deal with the Giants, only to lose control, inexplicably, of his celebrated 12-to-6 curveball. Since then he has been great only in short bursts: a month here, six games there. Now he personified something else in baseball: the mega-contract bust. But last fall, with the Giants facing elimination in the playoffs, he saved their season and led them to their second World Series title in three years.

No more half-baked image or ideas for this guy. The 34 year-old MLB pitcher didn’t just shake off the flaky label in the interview, he beaned it on the first pitch and then rushed home plate and clubbed it as Flaky oozed its last vial of quirkiness across home plate. I mean jeez, Barry. Being married, owning and enjoying firearms would have been plenty. No, you had to go C.S. Lewis on them. Here are some of the gruesome details:

To what degree are you a different person than the person you were in Oakland?

I think I’m a little bit less of a seeker these days. I’ve found something that I just really love, which is the Christian faith, and it’s new to me. I grew up being a seeker and being completely out of the box and testing and reading and trying all different religious things and kind of philosophical approaches and such, and it’s kind of a backwards route. Most people are raised very rigidly in an organized religion and then they try to fight their way out of that. I needed structure [laughs]. A lot of these kind of spiritual things are all based on the self and that was just too—I couldn’t handle that anymore. I don’t know. I think it led to a form of—it can lead to narcissism, I think.

Even now I can hear the rumbling from secular humanists grabbing their broken-cross-I-mean-peace-sign pitchforks, ‘Narcissist? Whoa, is he saying…’ Perhaps I exaggerate Zito’s expected fall from celebrity grace [actual Grace being what he appears to have embraced]. One of my favorite MLB bloggers, Craig Calcaterra from Hardball Talk, a proud non-reactionary type, weighs in:

The bigger takeaway, I think, is that while it’s often tempting and easy to pigeonhole hippie/playboy/zen/surfer types on the one hand, and it’s tempting and easy to pigeonhole Christian gun owner types on the other, there are a lot of people — probably most people — who fit neither of those easy caricatures. Zito is his own dude, comes off as a pretty thoughtful dude, and there’s something cool about that.

By the way, in the specific Lewis book Zito cited, The Problem of Pain, he might have come across something like the following–Lewis on the issue which I’ll characterize as why bad things happen to good people:

Let me implore the reader to try to believe, if only for a moment, that God, who made these deserving people, may really be right when He thinks that their modest prosperity and the happiness of their children are not enough to make them blessed: that all this must fall from them in the end, and if they have not learned to know Him they will be wretched. And therefore He troubles them, warning them in advance of an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover. The life to themselves and their families stands between them and the recognition of their need; He makes that life less sweet to them. If God were proud He would hardly have us on such terms: but He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is ‘nothing better’ now to be had.

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Band of brothers and one liberal democrat

ESpnFIlms_SilverThe ESPN documentary on the 1972 U.S. Olympic basketball team, Silver Reunion is a study in ethics. All but one member of that team have not wavered from the team’s initial position to not accept anything less than the gold medal they earned.

The out of step team member is Tom McMillen [a true lefty], who went on to serve in Congress as a Democrat from Maryland and has long sought to get his teammates to compromise on the issue. His efforts began in the 1990’s. He proposed the following as recently as last year:

Ten years ago [2002], I asked the IOC to award the 1972 U.S. team dual gold medals to rectify the errors of that game. … when I brought up the issue with my former teammates, all were willing to accept dual medals.

That last statement was a lie. Watch the documentary around the 10 minute mark to understand just how blatant a lie it remains. And while the documentary avoids dealing directly with the feelings of his teammates towards McMillen, the documentarian, Rory Karpf, does manages to convey a sense of the disdain towards him through the reactions to his idea, the wordless ones speaking the loudest.

Just how low will Tommy go?

Included in his most recent attempt at compromise on the medal issue, McMillen abandons his initial focus on “officials errors” and attempts to have the decision focus on … wait for it … orphaned kids [cue the presidential photo op]. More McMillen from his 2012 article:

I intend to propose a “grand compromise” … If the members of the Soviet team agree to the awarding of dual gold medals to our team and the IOC approves, the U.S. team will donate our medals, worth a great deal as sports memorabilia, to a Russian charity for orphaned children.

The attempt to conflate the medal issue with orphaned children is transparently dishonest. The documentary reinforced my opinion of McMillen’s efforts in this area and the idea that earning respect is a much different thing than getting votes. One requires adherence to principles, the other attempts to inconspicuously avoid them. That distinction is something McMillen may have to accept, in lieu of the respect of his 1972 U.S. Olympic teammates.

1972-basketball-USvsUSSR-044Watching that 1972 Olympic gold medal game with my father and brother was something I will never forget. It was my first ‘walk outside the house to check for flying frogs sports moment.’ [The next would come on July 4/5 1985, aka the Rick Camp wasted miracle game]. At some point I actually said out loud, ‘they can’t do this to the United States,’ in Spanish of course [you had to be there]. While they didn’t lose the game, the Cold War defeat in Germany stung even, or especially, in Miami.

A basketball note. The clutchest free throws in basketball history belong to Doug Collins at the 1972 Olympics. I will fight anyone who attempts to argue otherwise, especially those physically impaired.

To the following 11 members of the true 1972 Olympic Gold medal basketball team, much respect:

  • Mike Bantom
  • Jim Brewer
  • Tommy Burleson
  • Doug Collins
  • Kenneth Davis
  • James Forbes
  • Tom Henderson
  • Dwight Jones
  • Robert Jones
  • Kevin Joyce
  • Ed Ratleff
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Code Red: Derrick Rose’s a Bull Sitter

In a Few Good Men, Col Jessup’s Code Red was exposed given the implicit contradiction in his two orders. In the case of Derrick Rose, his two guaranteed contracts [totaling $355 million] contradict the most legitimate reason for a player to sit when coming off an injury; the risk of re-aggravating the injury in such a way as to hurt their future earning potential.

bullsitterIt would not be an exaggeration to say that no player has ever had less of a case to sit for that reason than Derrick Rose. As a Miami Heat fan, the circumstances surrounding Rose’s refusal to play–teammates playing through their own injuries and illnesses have highlighted the fact that Rose might the healthiest Bull left on the roster–only adds to our magical year. How? By damaging the psyche of a key opponent for years to come. His daily refusal to play is the equivalent of tossing up an air ball at the buzzer, for 6 consecutive weeks.

Which is why this Heat fan is rooting for the Chicago Bulls in game 7 vs the Nets tonight. Because if Rose sits through the Heat series, he will be more damaged than Leonard Lowe running low on L-Dopa on a weekend pass. For Bulls opponents, it will be the equivalent of having yearly unprotected draft picks from any organization which allows Michael Jordan to have influence over their personnel decisions. How to describe … it’s like if I hated the Knicks and saw their squad littered with selfish thug-like clowns … oh, wait….

A look at the evolution of expectations on Rose’s return:

  • April 2012 – Injured – Return expected between 8 and 12 months
  • Early Jan 2013 – Return likely in month 10, after the all-star game
  • Late Jan 2013 – Practicing and traveling with team
  • March 2013 – Finally cleared to play
  • April 2013 – The limits of patience
  • May 2013 – Et II Scottie Pippen?

Col Jessup: What do you mean he won’t play?

ColJessup

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I Spy changes in Jeffrey Loria

Loria before revenue sharing:

aaaCarl Loria

Loria after revenue sharing:

Jeffrey Loria, Julie Loria

Can you spot the new objects?

  1. Ellie Fredrickson has been replaced

  2. Bulletproof glass

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Jason Terry and Saint Longinus confront their God


1terry poster
Fra_Angelico_027

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Why Christianity is not the UN

An open letter to my Emmaus brothers.

How does our self-professed Christian faith differ from being a UN diplomat? The spiritual veil is much more easily pierced than diplomatic immunity. Waving a Christian card when personal behavior runs contrary to what the card should represent, damages both. In the news this week we see the negative ramifications of having a football player with Ray Lewis’ background be the person most vocal about his Christian faith at the Super Bowl. The point is that if your current actions don’t match your Christian beliefs, only self-promotion is served by such a public advocacy.

In my case, I had a financial dispute with a fellow Emmaus brother which ended with an unpaid debt. The feelings it evoked had predictable stages; anger, disappointment, wishing it would go away. But since very little in my Emmaus walk has benefited from wishing something away, I choose this path. This path is not about recovering monies which I have now written off. This path is meant to take the dispute out of the realm of a personal dispute and address the elephant in the Emmaus meeting room. How are we expected to behave within the Emmamus community when serious disputes arise among Emmaus brothers at the same Parish?

There are certain basic rules which any Emmaus brother would instantly acknowledge:

  • Emmaus Meetings are not to be used to discuss personal disputes
  • Emmaus Retreats are sacred
  • Confidentiality is sacred

Confidentiality pertains to what is said in meetings and Retreats. I do not believe that the principle of confidentiality applies to ongoing unethical behavior outside of Emmaus [for example in business] especially if that behavior has never been the subject of a sharing or discussion within Emmaus. My argument here is that the principle of confidentiality is damaged more by those who seek to hide behind it inappropriately than those who would point out the unethical behavior.

Who is to supposed to determine when or how to point out ongoing unethical or inappropriate behavior? Each of us following his or her own conscious. The facts and our personal integrity as deemed by our peers can sort out the rest over time, without ever using Emmaus meetings or Retreats to make our case. All the while respecting and adhering to the principle of confidentiality.

I deem that right and just.

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Clubbing with Clive and the Inklings

charles_atlasAre you part of a club? Ever been apologetic or embarrassed by enjoying the company of like-minded souls in an environment where talking is the main activity? Tired of being pushed around by bottom-line types who question the wisdom of an activity which does not benefit you financially or romantically? If you answered yes to any of these questions, Clive Staples Lewis–born in 1898, only six years after the birth of another everyman defender, Charles Atlas–has gots whatever you need to ward off the snide attacks from the wretched heathen, aka secular leftists.  That’s right, C.S. can play it anysways you want [Django cultural reference].  He can go theology, methodology, narrative deconstruction, zone, man-to-man or even evolutionary biology, to wit:

… palaeolithic man may or may not have had a club on his shoulder but he certainly had a club of the other sort …

Pub at which Inklings met

Pub at which Inklings met

Clive kneweth of what he spake. For about 20 years, Lewis, along with J.R.R. Tolkien, was part of an informal literary discussion group made up of Oxford guys [SAT’s through the roof on this crowd] who referred to themselves as The Inklings.

C.S. Lewis’ complete thought about the need for friendship–an excerpt from his book, The Four Loves:

I have said that Friendship is the least biological of our loves. Both the individual and the community can survive without it. But there is something else, often confused with Friendship, which the community does need;  something which, though not Friendship, is the matrix of Friendship. In early communities the co-operation of the males as hunters or fighters was no less necessary than the begetting and rearing of children. A tribe where there was no taste for the one would die no less surely than a tribe where there was no taste for the other. Long before history began we men have got together apart from the women and done things.

Inklings corner in the pub

Inklings corner in the pub

We had to. And to like doing what must be done is a characteristic that has survival value. We not only had to do the things, we had to talk about them. We had to plan the hunt and the battle. When they were over we had to hold a post mortem and draw conclusions for future use.

We liked this even better. We ridiculed or punished the cowards and bunglers, we praised the star-performers. We revelled in technicalities. (“He might have known he’d never get near the brute, not with the wind that way”…”You see, I had a lighter arrowhead; that’s what did it”…”What I always say is-“…”stuck him just like that, see? Just the way I’m holding this stick”…) In fact, we talked shop. We enjoyed one another’s society greatly: we Braves, we hunters, all bound together by shared skill, shared dangers and hardships, esoteric jokes—away from the women and children. As some wag has said, palaeolithic man may or may not have had a club on his shoulder but he certainly had a club of the other sort. It was probably part of his religion; like that sacred smoking-club where the savages in Melville’s Typee were “famously snug” every evening of their lives.

What were the women doing meanwhile? How should I know? I am a man and never spied on the mysteries of the Bona Dea.

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Feasting on less

800px-Tomb_of_Saint_John_the_ApostleToday’s Gospel reading–by the Apostle whose Feast we celebrate today, John–explains how His followers discovered that the Lord had risen [indeed]:

Now on the first day of the week Mary Mag’dalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. So she ran, and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Peter then came out with the other disciple, and they went toward the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first and stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; he saw the linen cloths lying, and the napkin, which had been on his head, not lying with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed.

Here are some highlights of St John’s resume:

  • Described by Jesus, along with his brother James, as “the sons of thunder” and “the disciple whom Jesus loved”
  • Wrote one Gospel, three Epistles and the Apocalypse

And yet, John “saw and believed.”  Not saw and confirmed what he had long suspected, etc. The last sentence is striking partly due to its brevity. In today’s Magnificat, Pope Benedict gives us perspective:

One doesn’t begin to be a Christian because of an ethical decision or a great idea, but rather because of an encounter with an event, with a Person, who gives new horizons to life, and with that, a decisive orientation.

The point is that John’s thoughts [even John!] on resurrection, don’t even warrant a mention when describing His Resurrection. There are many ways to communicate the ‘it’s not about you’ aspect of Christianity. John shows us one way, by way of omission.

Imagine the last sentence in that Gospel reading according to a Secular Humanist:

… I saw and it confirmed my long-held beliefs, stated mostly in private, about how I saw this playing out. I repeat my premonitions not to elevate myself and those like me who have also borne many of the scars for our cause, but to show that perhaps the truth does not belong to any one of us. I say this not to cause dissension, since I can personally attest to His greatness, but to begin a much needed dialogue. While lacking explicit authority, aside from having been present during much of the ministry, I believe the following to my core; perhaps His special genius was in getting all of us to trust our own inner-voices….

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Wilfredo and the evolution of a sure thing

photoThe following takes place between 1:47 AM and 1:55 AM EST inside The Bar on Giralda in Coral Gables on December 23rd.  An entertaining live band, The 540’s–the band [pictured] proved to be surprisingly good despite featuring an attorney as their lead singer–were completing a 4 hour performance.

Events occur in real time.

  • 1:47 AM – Kiss between Wilfredo and [Redacted], a couple in their early 20’s, begins in the anonymity of a booth in The Bar. Couple surrounded by standing older couples who are basking in their own anonymity.  The time frame for them to be blend in with the type of crowds which typically enjoy live bands is closing.  Soon they will closer resemble older interlopers who exit tourist buses, but for tonight, all was well.
  • 1:48 AM – The first sign of trouble, Wilfredo begins to think.  While grateful for [Redacted]’s apparent passion, his thoughts run to the powerful, yet unarticulated, Hippocratic Oath for amorous male Homo sapiens, ‘interrupt no positive dynamic.’ The problem lies in that he wasn’t sure what he had done right, but certain that he must not mess it up.
  • 1:49 AM – Absent an insight on the above, he would focus on technique.  Properly modulated breathing, saliva secretions reduced to maintain adequate moisture and restricted tongue forays.  There is a fine line between the dexterous movements of a confident male and the early stages of an attack by the Lizard King.
  • 1:50 AM – Momentarily distracted by the passage of a tall attractive woman with a borderline-dwarf in tow, he blanked out. Seemingly awoken by the continuous kiss, he now desperately tried to recall what his life had been like for the last 3 minutes. Wilfredo amused himself by realizing that his thoughts about avoiding tongue in cheek, were not tongue-in-cheek.
  • 1:51 AM – Fear gripped Wilfredo. Was this kiss it? Was that the reason for the PED-like length of the lip-locking? Was this his goodnight kiss? How could pure lust have devolved into this? He was simultaneously aroused and despondent.
  • 1:52 AM – His thoughts now ran to Joseph Stalin. Solzhenitsyn would tell the story about how ovations after speeches by Stalin would go on forever because everyone was afraid to stop applauding first. If this kiss was a Homeland episode, it would be titled, Stalemate with Soulmate.
  • 1:53 AM – Wilfredo begins experiencing concussion-like symptoms, as evidenced by entertaining thoughts of love.  Well thoughts about love is more accurate. A friend of his father, one of those harmlessly boring religious types whose uninvited musings on faith always challenged his manners, had cornered him for a mini-symposium on the C.S. Lewis book about different types of love [storge (affection), phileo (friendship), eros (romantic love), and agape (charity or God-love)]. At the time Wilfredo could only focus on the fact that ‘storge’ phonetically reminded him of an NFL quarterback, Jim Sorgi. And yet, why had the planted idea chosen this moment to sprout?
  • 1:54 AM – But what if he got the dreaded question again? A young lady had once asked if he loved her at a critical moment and his answer had surprised even him. No, he replied, choosing peace of mind over treating her as a mere piece. In the postmortem, he racked his brain to understand where the answer had come from, but could not. The closest he got was a movie that he had liked. But who knows?
  • 1:55 AM – It finally ended. A mini-crowd surrounded them like winners of a dance marathon of days gone by, a reminder of how odd courtship appears to all those on the outside. “Call me, Wilfredo,” she asked? Dazed, dehydrated, but intrigued, he replied, “love to.”
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Borking may not be as fun in the afterlife

396px-Reagan_with_Robert_Bork_1987Somewhere in purgatory, I’m betting that Robert Bork wants to speak with Ted Kennedy and the feeling is not mutual. Here’s one vision of how that might go:

Attired in scuba gear and standing beside a 1967 Oldsmobile Delmont 88 with a lake and bridge in the background, Robert would ask Teddy, “Shall we go in? I’d love to show you what it looked like that July 1969 evening.”

Purgatory presents the classic ‘bad news, bad news’ scenario for people like Ted Kennedy, hero to the Left. So much to answer for, so much time. To Mary Jo Kopechne and Robert Bork, RIP. For Teddy, while your permanent housing gets sorted out by the Power that Be, I submit the following ditty by The Trammps.

Think of the lyrics not as a prediction, but a reminder of how fleeting earthly good times and smear campaigns can be. In a delicious Delilah-like twist, Disco Inferno was the song playing at the Au Bar on Good Friday 1991, the evening Teddy facilitated his nephew’s first rape. Always a special time for Kennedy males.

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