I
heard Gary Myers pitching his book “Coaching Confidential” on an early-morning
radio show one weekend, and remembered him as the unbelievably-geeky-looking
contributor to “Inside the NFL” from years ago. Backed by some 35 years of covering
the league, his book sounded like it could offer some interesting
behind-the-scenes insights.
I did
find the book to contain a lot of those revealing nuggets (good band name), but
the writing was very so-so, there was a good bit of repetition, some obvious storylines
were ignored and there were some occasional errors. Myers spent a lot of time
with New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft, who was very frank in his
interviews, which led to many instances that only reinforced the outright
douchiness of Bill Parcells.
Myers
did spend some time on the Dolphins’ mind-numbing decision to choose a trade
for an injured Daunte Culpepper over a free-agent signing of injured Dree
Brees, which the author rightly wrote “sent the franchise reeling.” He also
offered a series of amazing details surrounding the landmark Herschel Walker
trade, as well as more minor revelations such as Rex Ryan’s dyslexia.
Much
of the early part of the book examined the Bountygate scandal of the New
Orleans Saints, and the fallout for suspended Saints coach Sean Payton. Myers’s
most impassioned writing seemed to come at the expense of Payton:
“After he won it all, he got carried away
with his self-importance, and his sense of entitlement and his arrogance went
off the charts ... There had been talk around the NFL that after he won the
Super Bowl, Payton was so full of himself it was bordering on unbearable and
now he didn’t appear credible when he denied knowledge of what was going on in
the defensive meeting room.”
Myers
did peel back the curtain somewhat on the life of a coach, who he said “work
ridiculously long hours in a business with a high rate of divorce.” In a
cutthroat business that seems to generate far too many ego-driven, morally
questionable “leaders,” it was refreshing to be exposed to alternate
viewpoints, such as one offered by Denver Broncos coach John Fox.
“Some have addictive personalities. I don’t
think any of us are finding a cure for cancer. It’s not like we are doing
something that is really hard.”
The
strength of Myers’s book came in some of the out-of-school tales he shared,
including one straight out of a George Costanza plotline from “Seinfeld.” He
wrote of a coach who parked two cars at the team’s offices—one in the front
with his nametag on it and one in the back with no nametag. Apparently the
coach would occasionally bolt early out the back door in the nondescript ride,
leaving the impression that he was still toiling away to all hours, with his
name prominently visible on the remaining car in front of the building.
Unfortunately, the book had too few examples of such anecdotes
to overcome some of the work’s above-mentioned issues. It was a good, easy read
at right around three weeks, but “Coaching Confidential” wasn’t quite what I
expected—it left me wishing to know even more about the fascinating, secretive
creature that is the professional football coach.
Despite
the tragic nature of the story itself, one of the most enjoyable articles I’ve
read in Sports Illustrated was by “The Best Player You Never Saw,” by Michael McKnight. The piece covered the lost
potential of Brian Cole, a New York Mets phenom who died in a car accident.
Great writing, great character sketching and great research.
#2
Knowledge
is power: You simply have to appreciate 24 awesome things you likely didn’t
know about beer.
#3
One
of the least-studied enigmas of our generation: So how come there aren’t seatbelts on buses?!
#4
I’m
a bit of an Irish Coffee aficionado, but I’ve admittedly never tasted this particular blend.
#5
A
political party based on environmental focus and based on social media? Kudos, Brazil. You’ve got my vote.
#6
So
how much of “Lost” was ripped off of a 1969 TV series called “The New People”?
Judge for yourself.
#7
Chewbacca
cuckolding Solo: That sentence just happened.
When
“Rosemary’s Baby” goes horribly wrong—it’s a Wookie!—you need the
behind-the-scenes story on this interspecies love affair, via Harrison Ford on
Jimmy Kimmel.
#8
Toddlerhood
encompasses the balance between laughing hysterically and stifling the urge to
slap, as captured in this epic carseat convo.
#9
Girl,
you’ve got chronic flatulence an ass that just won’t quit.
#10
There
are moments when my chosen profession redeems itself beyond pointless press
releases and embarrassing e-mail campaigns. This is one of those moments: sheer brilliance in the form of an anti-child abuse advertising campaign.
“I wish there was a way to know you’re in
the good ol’ days before you’ve actually left them.” ~Andy Bernard
And
thusly, not with a guffaw but a sniffle, “The Office” ended.
The
emotions came freely for me, which was both expected and unexpected. Cheesy as
it is to say, this innovative sitcom with a heart was always more than a show
to me. So in a sense, it very much felt as if a chapter is closing not only in television, but in my life.
Along
the course of its nine-year run, some elements of the plotline so closely
mirrored situations that were simultaneously occurring in my personal life that
they become a source of both pain and humor. “The Office” always provided a
degree of relatability for old coworkers, as well as a point of common ground
in establishing relationships at new jobs. Dunder-Mifflin Infinity
offered an easy way to burn hours at dead-end jobs, and some arcs even informed
ideas at more-inspiring opportunities.
Like
life itself, “The Office” offered painful goodbyes and bittersweet relationships,
monumental life changes and career adjustments, loves and heartaches, laughter
and tears, dreams and misses—sometimes all in the same episode.
I
think we all saw some small -- or large -- piece of ourselves in every character. In
Michael’s desire to keep fighting against the tide, Jim’s ability to find humor
in somber situations, Pam’s unwillingness to give up on her dreams, Dwight’s
fight to spread his worldview, Angela’s hope to hide from the world, Kevin’s inability
to accept how others view him, Oscar’s search for normalcy in an unstable
environment, Stanley’s pursuit of just making it by, Phyllis’s pull to mother
everyone, Meredith’s wish to drink her way through the day, Darrell’s constant
chase of what comes next, Ryan’s lessons learned from unchecked ambition, Kelly’s
insufferable enslavement at the hands of pop culture, Toby’s struggles to fit
in and express himself, Todd Packer’s complete and utter Todd Packer-ness, Erin’s
fight to put a happy face on everything, Andy’s need for affirmation, and Creed’s
... well, I don’t think any of us saw anything of ourselves in Creed. At least,
I hope not.
That’s
a long way of seeing that, for the self-aware set, there was always something
to learn from “The Office.” Maybe it was a lesson about office behavior.
Perhaps it was a moral about interpersonal relationships. Or an instruction on
an unwillingness to settle or an acknowledgment of dreams or the courage to
share your heart. And maybe, just maybe, it was an openness to be taught to fly.
So
much more than a sitcom and so much less than perfect, “The Office” was a
celebration of the mundane and a plea to embrace the area of our lives where we
spend most of our time. An urge to find the comedy inside the drudgery, the
laughter inside the enigma, the pearl inside an oyster made of copy paper.
More
than anything, this amazing series moved every one of your emotions, while
making you laugh—long and hard.
Some good shite in here, from finding Abercrombie & Fitch duds in the "douchebag section" of the thrift store and comparing the CEO to "old Biff" from "Back to the Future."
“If he won’t tell me, why in God’s name
would he tell you?”
“Fegan said, ‘Because I’ll ask harder.’”
There’s
no question that Northern Ireland is fertile ground for crime fiction, and
renowned author Stuart Neville revisits that territory in his highly anticipated
novel “Collusion,” which is peppered with references to the political dealings
that continue to dominate a generation after the Troubles.
A
sequel to the much-heralded “Ghosts of Belfast” (which earned the No. 4 spot
for the 2011 Scooties Awards), this book has a plot that follows three
different stories: troubled copper Jack Lennon (“Some said that when you’re on your deathbed, it’d be the things you
didn’t do that you’d regret. Lennon knew that was a lie.”); the Traveler,
an unstoppable assassin; and Gerry Fegan, who represents what passes for an
Irish superhero. Unfortunately, the otherworldly Fegan is relegated to the
background through most of this story, and in my estimation, this book is never
quite able to overcome that editorial decision.
Fegan’s
old nemesis, Bull O’Kane, has managed to track down the elusive Fegan Stateside
(“ ... he loved New York ... This city
had no memory. No one cared who he was, what he’d done. He could walk through
the crowds, as clean as the next man, his guilt buried.”), where our hero
has escaped to allow would-be girlfriend Marie McKenna and her daughter Ellen
to live their lives in relative peace and security. Enter the ominously named Traveler,
who threatens all of that, plus Lennon, who had a bit role in the first book as
McKenna’s former husband.
Along
the way, the Traveler repeatedly gets the best of Fegan, resulting in an
eye-opening bit of myth-busting. It’s a bit difficult to see a more vulnerable,
weakened Fegan at work, though it is hinted that the exertions of the first
book and his isolation have taken some toll on him.
“I can’t,” Fegan said. “I’m tired. I want to
sleep. That was all I ever wanted. To sleep.”
Without
giving away too much, one of the key characters makes a
not-very-believable miraculous bid to cling to
life, perhaps paving the way for a third book.
This
novel features short chapters, and as a result is a rather quick read. However,
that makes for less time to explain the intangible and emotional connections
between Fegan, Marie and Ellen. One of the unexplored areas, to me, was the
psychic connection between Fegan and Ellen, which seemed to me a bit of a lost
opportunity on Neville’s part.
“She was safe.
“That was the most important fact in his
world now, the one thing that made tomorrow better than yesterday, and he clung
to it like a pillow in his sleep.”
While
“Collusion” made for entertaining reading, it simply didn’t have the breadth,
deeper meaning or resonance of “Ghosts of Belfast.” The lack of soul, for lack
of a better word, within this novel made it more “just” a crime mystery
story—though Neville’s writing talents make that work to a more-than-passable
extent.
Just
in case you wanted some hugs (and tears) to go with your burger and fries, I
present Tim’s Place.
#2
Cottonwood
has long been my favorite North Carolina brewery, and they hit another one out
of the park with Frostbite Black IPA. Highly recommended if you’re so inclined.
#3
Do
the Baltimore Ravens have a linebackers coach named Wink Martindale?!
#4
I’ve
never seen Dane Cook and Skylar Astin (of the movie “21 and Over”) in the same
place at the same time. And if I did, I’m sure Astin would not be laughing at
one of Cook’s bits.
#5
So
there’s a Walking Dead drinking game called, appropriately enough, “Walking Drunk.” That is all.
#6
The
“30 for 30” special on Chicago hoops legend Ben Wilson, titled “Benji,” was raw
and powerful. The stark way in which it was shot and his story told really
ramped up the emotional attachment to the story itself.
This guy is like my new personal hero and I would elect him the free and true leader
of anything and everything. #drivinginrussia
#9
Just
in case you thought the whole cops-at-Dunkin-Donuts thing is played out, here’s a tremendous story. Only a policeman could get away with the ol’ “I thought
that cocaine was doughnut powder” defense. At least it’s not like cops get adjudicated
differently or anything ...
#10
This story has it all: a perverted UNC professor, cocaine, a triple-D glamour model,
almost incomprehensible arrogance and a catfish” of epic proportions. This dude
makes Manti T’eo look like Don freaking Juan.
What
happens when some Scottish dudes find themselves in some small town in the
middle of North Carolina in the midst of a U.S. tour?
One
of my favorite bands, the Glasgow-based group Frightened Rabbit, made their way
some 4,000 miles to Carrboro, N.C.—where they promptly drew on the energy of a
passionate crowd in trying their best to burn down the venerable Cat’s Cradle.
The
crew got off to something of a slow start, with the appearance of some sound
issues and lead singer Scott Hutchison switching guitars several times.
Unfortunately, the iffy beginning came at the expense of the first few songs,
which included two of my favorite tunes. The band kicked off the set with
“Holy,” the best song off their most recent album, “Pedestrian Verse,” then
followed with “The Modern Leper” before leaping into my second-favorite
Frightened Rabbits tune, “Old Old Fashioned.”
But
every stellar show has a holy-shit moment, and this one came with a stomping “Nothing
Like You” that represented the true beginning of the concert.
The
band also rolled out a much-slowed-down version of “My Backwards Walk” and a
solo acoustic take on “Good Arms vs. Bad Arms.” Both struck me as evidence of a
group finding ways to stay fresh, exploring some what-if territory in the midst
of a lengthy tour in a foreign land.
Other
highlights included a bouncy “The Oil Slick,” a stirring “Head Rolls Off,” an
emotional “Poke”, a haunting and underrated “State Hospital” and a manic “Acts
of Man” to conclude the set on an eardrum-shattering note.
The
standout of the three-set encore was “Living in Colour,” and the last song of
the night, “The Loneliness and the Scream,” featured Wintersleep (the opening act,
a Canadian band whose music isn’t my cup o’ tea, but they had a good sound and
were well-received) accompanying in a memorably boot-stomping version of that
song.
In
the category of “minor quibbles,” I did notice that the set lists from the U.S.
tour have essentially been the same night to night, which I usually don’t care
for, as I’d like to believe that bands leave themselves freedom to open up the
catalog if the moment or the audience inspires them. And on another personal
note, I felt like the absence of “The Greys”—perhaps the band’s signature song
and my personal favorite—was a huge omission.
But
overall, Hutchison seemed genuinely, pleasantly shocked at the outpouring of
energy and emotion stemming from the crowd—even on a Monday night—which led to
some “top bants” (as my Brit colleagues would say) between he and the audience.
He even engaged the audience in a bit of harmonizing toward the end of the
show, and especially in the latter half of the set, you really got a sense of
the band responding to and rewarding an unexpectedly boisterous crowd.
In the closing moments of a searing show, Hutchison
promised that Frightened Rabbit would “definitely be back” at the Cat’s Cradle.
Cheers, mates; I’ll be there.
“Sometimes you can break something so bad it
can’t get put back together.”
“Everybody loses the thing that made them. It’s
even how it’s supposed to be in nature. The brave men stay and watch it happen;
they don’t run.”
When
Katrina hits, an already upside-down society is turned inside-out to boot,
paving the way toward the movie’s central questions: What can truly grow amidst
the debris? What is possible against the backdrop of nothingness? And does the
primitive, idyllic lifestyle yield more happiness than our fast-paced,
sophisticated culture?
Set
against the backdrop of these questions and more, “Beasts of the Southern Wild”
packs an emotional punch, following a community called the “Bathtub,” the
fictional Isle of Charles Doucet, which is modeled on the very real Isle de
Jean Charles. Outcast from society and technology, the Bathtub is a living,
breathing community, one giant family intent on partying its way through all
ordeals (much like New Orleans itself).
We
view the trials and tribulations of the Bathtub through the lens provided by
Hushpuppy, a small girl making her way without much parental authority, breaks
or guidance. It was a monumental role for a wee girl, but the mesmerizing Quvenzhane
(and no, I didn’t just fall asleep and bang my head on the keyboard) Wallis’s
eyes captivate you and reel you in, not only offering her unique perspective,
but imprinting the themes of resolve and girl power along the way.
Just
6 years old at the time of filming, Wallis pulled it off, lending stark
understatement to the gut-wrenching tale of her life. Her father, played by
regular New Orleans dude Dwight Henry as Wink in an underrated role, is sickly.
Interestingly, there is no physical affection between the father and Hushpuppy
until the former is faced with his own mortality.
It’s
also not always easy to discern what is occurring in the mind of a 6-year-old
child and what is actually taking place in reality. In a sense, it’s all seen through the perspective of
Hushpuppy, as pointed out in a sublime New Yorker review. Indeed, it’s “a piece
of realism from the point of view of a six-year-old,” director Benh Zeitlin
told The Atlantic.
“Beast
of the Southern Wild” was the pet baby of the 26-year-old Zeitlin—his first
feature film—and became the darling of Sundance, winning the Grand Jury Prize.
Powered by Court 13, a collective of artists and filmmakers, it garnered an
astonishing four Oscar nominations.
In a
bit of foreshadowing of some of the ecological issues detailed in the film, on
the first day of shooting, the Deepwater Horizon blew. And in his research, the
director kept coming back to a singular question: Why would anyone choose to
live in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina?
Zeitlin
immersed himself in the culture and community, using Isle de Jean Charles as
inspiration for his vision. He would go on to spend two years just editing the
film, making a conscious decision to tap into bayou/Cajun myth and folklore
extensively. And he elected to breathe the story to life by leaning on
Louisiana natives—his decision to cast “real” people in lieu of actors added to
the film’s feeling of authenticity. Zeitlin also had the cast and crew live and
shoot in the bayou for nearly half a year.
The result is a well-rendered depiction of the lives of a community living on the edge of catastrophe and existing at Mother Nature’s behest—and the impact that atmosphere means to a sense of community. Bolstered by the tremendous music and unique cinematography, there is a sense of being flung directly into the Bathtub yourself, to scratch and claw your own way into being.
Admittedly,
I found the description and introduction of the auruchs a bit hard to follow
initially. The story also wanders a little bit, especially as Hushpuppy’s
search for her mother brings her to a floating crab shack/whorehouse (are they
the same thing?) in what resembled a sort of dream sequence, in which it’s
never made clear whether the cook is actually her mother or not. Hushpuppy wants her to be her Mom, which I believe
is kind of the point (as evidenced in the heartbreaking scene where Hushpuppy
dances with her, holding her close and whispering, “This is my favorite thing”).
And within this mother/not mother role, the cook dispenses life lessons,
telling Hushpuppy, “One day it’s gonna all be on you. Everything on your plate
gonna fall on the floor.”
I
know that some have decried the film as glorifying poverty and a lack of
sophistication, but I think that is reading way too much into the story.
Criticism in some quarters has also centered on the movie’s depiction of
government as oppressive and intrusive, but beyond the obvious acknowledgment
that the government ignored an entire region in the wake of Hurricane Katrina,
I didn’t glean an anti-government vibe or any political bent at all.
Instead,
the Bathtub survivors come to see their “rescue” as simply another way of
institutionalizing them and indoctrinating them into the ways of the rest of
the world—leading to a revolt and escape.
Zeitlin
himself waved away criticisms of his depiction of poverty, arguing instead that
these people aren’t poor, but instead experience the “ultimate freedom” in
their everyday lives.
“The
whole idea of the bathtub is that it’s a society where all the things that
divide people have been removed,” he told The Atlantic. “So there’s no
religion, no politics, no money, no one sees race, there’s no rich and poor
because there is no currency.”
However,
I do agree that “Beasts of the Southern Wild” can be experienced as a rejection
of the norms and pace of a too-modern world. This relatively short film (93
minutes) depicted a Bathtub family that has, in essence, chosen isolation, then set about creating and defining its own
distinct world.
In
the sense that everything that dies simply becomes part of something new, the
Bathtub embraces the ideas of rebirth, recycling, reuse and repurposing as a
quasi-litmus test for a globe succumbing to technological and environmental
failures. Even young Hushpuppy seems to grasp this, as she quietly tells the
auruch when they finally meet, “You’re my friend, kind of.”
All
in all, “Beasts of the Southern Wild” was some type of bouillabaisse of “Mad
Max,” “Waterworld” and “The Champ.” And like all good Cajun food, it includes a
spirit, a vibrancy that allows it to go far beyond something just to be
digested—this flick screams out for your immersion.
Symbolize broken hearts
