Stoking the Fires

I feel like I never write about the Red Sox. I mean, to be fair, there's not much to write about when you're 11 games ahead in the AL East, with the hated Yankees fading quickly into the morass of sub-par franchises yet again. And trust me, as I sit here in New York, that fact is not sitting well. Driving in yesterday with Megan for a week of dipsaluscious vacation and job interviewing, I caught the end of the Giants-Yankees matchup on 880. John Sterling and Suzyn (or however the hell you spell that worthless tramp's name) Waldman were practically apoplectic at the sight of this once proud franchise dropping five games out of six - including a sweep by the Colorado Rockies - in increasingly poor fashion. Sterling, who I truly believe is actually an elaborate macro rather than an actual human being, was shooting his mouth off about how bad this team was, and how much they needed pitching and all the rest of the things Yankee fans lean on when the team is down. How much they actually believe that it's everybody else's fault that they're losing.

It's disgusting.

But it does mean one very important thing, which is why I'm here to talk about the Red Sox. The Yankees are, as always, big buyers at the trade deadline, which is a scant 36 days away, according to the Buzz Blog over at Boston.com. This year presents a particularly interesting scenario because so many teams are so bad, but in the American League, the two teams to watch are the White Sox and Rangers. Both teams look to be sellers coming towards July 31. Now, traditionally, the Yankees make waves at the Deadline with one big-name signing and some smaller signings, usually pitchers, that always seem to pan out. Here's the problem. These are some names of seemingly available players.

Mark Buehrle.

Mark Teixiera.

Eric Gagne and/or Akinori Otsuka.

You add any or all of those guys to the mix over in the Bronx and all of a sudden that 11 1/2 games back third place team fading into indignity becomes a force to be reckoned with in August and September. And with this Red Sox having missed the injury boat thus far, it could be a late season hiccup that sends this team into a tailspin. But does that mean that the Red Sox should be buying at the Deadline?

Ironically, yes.

They have several important pieces that could make a difference for middling teams. They do have the prospects to ship out of town as well as veteran players. Here are some players whose names I think you'll see mentioned and why.

Mike Lowell: He's 32. He's got an expiring contract. He's having his best hitting year in a while. And as much as he has become an integral part of this Red Sox team, and as much as he is a stand up guy who I would personally hate to see leave the community, teams like Minnesota, and even the White Sox - who may still be able to make a late season run in an oversold Central - need a solid corner infielder who plays incredible defense. And we can move Kevin Youkilis back to his natural position if we were to go hard after Teixiera, which we would need to do.

Coco Crisp: We're going to talk about Jacoby Ellsbury in a second, he being the heir apparent to the vast expanse of Center Field at Fenway. Coco is not hitting. Yeah, he's starting to turn it around, which is good from a trade perspective. And he has a year left on his contract which means the team that got him would get the best year of his career next year (Contract year + Prime of Career + Something to Prove = SuperCoco!). The kicker is this: if Coco stays he will have to fight for his job next spring against Ellsbury who looks like a world-class baseball player at the AAA level. Why not ship him out of town? Move Drew back to Center and get Ellsbury (or Murphy/Moss if they want to coddle their burgeoning star) up to be the 4th outfielder behind Wily Mo in his audition to play DH somewhere else next year.

Craig Hansen: This guy is going to be either an All-Star setup man or one of the league's best closers. He just isn't going to do it in Boston. The Okajima/Papelbon combination looks like it has cemented itself in the 8th and 9th innings for the foreseeable future. Hansen is going to be highly prized, especially in Chicago for what he will bring to the table. I hate trading pitching, especially young pitching, but where Hansen does not fit, don't you have to use him to get that one extra piece that brings another world championship to Boston?

Clay Buchholz/Jacoby Ellsbury: These two are the futures of this franchise. They should be untouchable. In two years, Buchholz will be the best young starter in the league and Ellsbury will singlehandedly bring back the Go-Go Red Sox. Not even Buehrle and Teixiera would be worth losing either one of these guys.

And finally here are the trades I would like to see:

CHICAGO (AL) gets:
Coco Crisp
Craig Hansen
Abe Alvarez

BOSTON gets:
Mark Buehrle

or maybe...

TEXAS gets:
Mike Lowell/Coco Crisp
Craig Hansen
Abe Alvarez
David Murphy

BOSTON gets:
Mark Teixiera
Eric Gagne

or maybe...nothing at all.

Poached Lobster Is Not A Barbecue Food, There, I Said It.

Ah yes, Top Chef is bringing the heat from week to week. Last night was no exception, as the contestants took their culinary wares out of doors for an upscale barbecue event. And for the most part, the chefs-in-waiting brought their "A" games. I thought the judges' decision on making Brian the winner of last night's challenge was on point, his seafood sausage hit all the high points needed, and fulfilled the expectations of the judges, as it was both upscale and barbecue appropriate. Sara Nguyen impressed as well, if only by accident, with her Vietnamese Ribeye creation. She definitely got a lot of points for accessibility of food, which can be of particular desirability when standing and mingling under the hot sun.

There were definitely some losers last night. Sandee, of course, was chief among them. Just because you manage to poach lobster on a grill does not mean it's barbecue food. As the other 13 contestants prove, there are myriad ways of finding new and interesting barbecue creations and textures and flavors. She chickened out or lost the plot, and deserved to get canned. But Howie and Joey were almost bigger problems. Howie lost more points with the judges on execution, this time not realizing that if you cut pork and leave it out, it will get dry and inedible. This man is a chef for crying out loud! He's not a line cook, he runs a kitchen. That kind of mistake is absolutely a failure of Culinary Skills 101. Joey on the other hand - who by the way, is the worst kind of New Yorker (the one who believes the world ends West of the Hudson, and for Joey, perhaps we shrink that to outside of Brooklyn) - made chicken wings! And not even good chicken wings, just run of the mill things he would make for a block party in Prospect Heights. These two have to raise their games immediately - though I don't think Joey can hack it - if they want to survive much longer.

One more note on Tre. He was brought to judges' table for a very good reason. They don't want him turning into Cliff. They don't want him to be another guy with a lot of promise and competitive drive, who gets a little bit to arrogant after some early victories. Tre is going to be there at the end, unless his head gets the better of him. He just needed a little spanking from the judges to clarify that.

YouTube + Presidential Candidate = Funny? Amazingly, Yes.

Oh my god. Hillary Clinton brought the funny.



I am reminded of those heady days on the Dean campaign when we were trying to select our campaign song. We didn't do anything this witty. We just put a thread on the blog and asked people to post their favorites. My favorite response was to Christina Aguilera's "Fighter" to which a Deaniac said, "That girl gives me a sexual disease just by watching her on TV."

Yup, those were our supporters.

But this is not about me, or all of the cool stuff I've done. Let's get back to the Hillary video. I think it's a great send-up. Also, the Johnny Sac cameo was brilliant. I can only hope that her fellow candidates bring the funny as well as she did.

They should also present a policy program that can help America regain her role in the world, strengthen us at home, ensure our long-term prosperity, and such and such.

Dog Days

The dull drudgery of work-a-day academia is starting to get to me. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, it affords me all kinds of time to do things like this, prattling on about nothing in particular. It also affords me the opportunity to continue my ridiculous, neverending and fruitless job search. (By the way, if any of you are hiring, or know someone who is...) But it's making me feel like I'm in a routine, and not one I want to be in.

I have to break it.

I started today with a large bucket at the driving range. But my life is starting to seem like one endless commute. Now, everyone reading this post who is employed just started playing the world's smallest violin for me. But it's true. All I do is drive back and forth to Medford (I mean, come on, frickin' MEDFORD!) to a boring job at a University I pretty much detest.

And yet, it's summer in New England. The trees are green, the sun is hot (occasionally) and the Red Sox are winning. What more do I need?

That's the problem. I just don't know.

Top Chef is Back. So am I.

I haven't written in a month or so. Here's a quick update.

I went to the farm.

I went to New York.

I work everyday at Tufts.

I still do not have a rest of my life job.

Anyone who is still wondering why I haven't written anything recently, that's why. I'm just boring. However, Top Chef is never boring, and the new season kicked off last night with a bang. It is, as yet, hard to get a read on the competitors generally, because with fifteen of them going head to head last night in only an hour, only the best and the worst were memorable.

That said, I think it's obvious that the judges made the right decision last night. Sending Howie or Brian home over failures of executing on time were not warranted. They proved they can cook, maybe not win the show (although, if Howie pulls his act together, don't be surprised if he hangs around for a while), but at least be competitive.

What was plain and simple was that Clay was in WAY over his head. I mean, he was competing against the executive sous chef from Jean-F'ing-Georges! He fried a fish tail as the signature part of his meal. I'm surprised he didn't serve his ridiculously overdone and cold wild boar ribs with a side of grits from a box. Though, that may have added flavor and texture, which seemed to be missing from his dish. The bottom line is, that challenge was hard, but at least 10 other chefs rose to it. Clay, for reasons passing understanding, thought he could play it safe and move on. I mean, really, par-cooking wild boar? Really? Really.

Apart from Clay, everyone did very well with the challenge, though a few stood out as prohibitive favorites after week one.

Tre: Well, I mean, obviously. He won the challenge, both Ilan and Harold won the first challenge as well. He seems to have excellent chops - I was actually salivating when he plated that ostrich for the judges - and his competitive edge should help him ride the ups and downs of the competition. He probably won't rest on his laurels after his good first impression, and that should suit him well. If he continues to compete at this level, he will at least make the final, if not win.

Hung: He's Marcel's friend and colleague, so I am very cautious here. He also markets himself as a certified asshole, and nothing I saw last night would dissuade me of that notion. But the boy can cook. Unlike Marcel, he understands that incorporating molecular techniques into soulful cooking is where good avant garde food lies. Hung may set himself apart from the group both with his skills and attitude, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to see him survive for many a week.

Sara N.: The Jamaican-bred executive chef stood out for her tasty combinations in both the quickfire, which by the way, was really ridiculous, and probably threw a lot of people off, and at the judges' table. It remains to be seen just how far she can branch out from her Caribbean roots, but she seems quite well rounded. She may be a force to be reckoned with down the road.

Lia: Can you say ringer? She would probably have 3 Michelin Stars on principle if she ever opened her own restaurant. She is in a competition against people who are unsure of the concept of amuse-bouche. Watch out, even if she couldn't french her wild boar ribs correctly on the fly.

Micah: Of all the dishes prepared, her quickfire offering of "Sushi" Under the Tuscan Sun was the most appetizing. It was the perfect amuse-bouche: one bite, quirky, tasty. She probably didn't bring it as hard in the main challenge knowing she was safe. Amidst the Tres of the world here, she has to be careful about that. But if she can pull it together and be consistent, I believe her chops are just as good as anyone's and the fiery personality they allude to in the scenes from down the road may help her.

The Gates of Hell

"You can stand me up at the gates of hell/But I won't back down"

- Tom Petty

Tonight, Dad and I ventured out to Yankee Stadium to see our beloved Red Sox take on the hated Yankees. Now, as neither one of us had ever been to the Toilet before, being in New York, we decided to avail ourselves of some day-of-game seats (we'll get back to that in a moment) and jump on the 4 Train and make the journey to Da Bronx. As the elevated train lurched toward the hulking beast on the East River, I mentioned to my father, "You ever feel like you were on a Landing Craft about to take Juno Beach?"

I didn't wear a hat, or a t-shirt or a jersey, or anything that would denote me as a member of the opposition. Although, had I done so, I would not have been alone. The first surprising thing to me was exactly how many Red Sox fans, in full regalia I might add, were there with us. In my section - Main Reserved 1, BEHIND HOME PLATE - there were at least 10 of us. And though we were, may times, drowned out by the drunken birthday party in the next row, we still got a few "Let's Go Red Sox" chants out with nary a battery thrown.

And from Manny's home run to Tavarez's effective pitching, throughout the game, I came to be even less enamored of Yankee fans than before. The "fans" in the expensive seats were just vindictive. I mean, I probably would be too if my team was getting its collective ass served up every night, and my owner was paying through the nose for team that probably won't win eighty games. The difference between me and the typical Yankee fan, however, is that I get the references I just made. They wouldn't. They also did not take kindly to our playful needling. Maybe it was because they were just rude, maybe it's because they can't exactly think of a comeback right now. But either way, when one slightly inebriated fan shouted "Hey, Coco Crisp, I ate you for breakfast today!" and thought highly of himself, I just let it go.

On the A train coming back to Times Square, I summed the evening up to my dad. "Well, now they can never say we didn't walk into the lion's den. And we also never have to do it again." I stood my ground. I watched my team win in a hostile environment. And I didn't back down.

Thirsty Thursday: 2005 Perrin Reserve, Cotes-du-Rhone, France

Summer has come to New England. So it's time to start reviewing some lighter wines. These are wines you can enjoy on one of those lazy summer nights, when the sea air kicks up in the afternoon and cools down the heat of the day. Something to pop open on the porch with some grilled fish, or just in anticipation of the long, summer sunset. Tonight, we're featuring a rose. And it's in a screwcap bottle. But lord strike me down, it was good wine. Seriously, don't be afraid of pink wine. Except for white zin. If I catch you drinking that stuff, I'll hunt you down. Or just call you out on this blog, whichever is easier.

And now, on to the notes!

The bright strawberry nose mimics the beautiful light red color in the glass. The palate boasts light raspberry flavors which while not as tight or controlled as one might hope are still flavorful and lush, with just a touch of spice from the addition of syrah in the traditional regional blend. The light finish is reminiscent of a cool, calm summer night, with the flavors returning for a few seconds as the taste drifts off into the sunset.

Overall: 90, Purchased at Cape Ann Liquors, Gloucester, MA, $9.99

The End of the Beginning

I walked out the door and as the hot New England sun glinted off my face I realized that there was to be no fanfare, no momentous feeling, none of that. It was a distinctly odd feeling, but rewarding all the same.

At 2pm this afternoon, I walked out of the Political Science department in Eaton Hall, having just dropped off my very last assignment to be completed in anticipation of my Bachelor of Arts degree at Tufts University. With that simple act, done on my way to work, I finished the five-year odyssey of college.

It didn't happen the way I always envisioned that it would. Graduation will take care of the pomp and circumstance, but all I had this afternoon was the knowledge that I had completed something, and done it well. There is a tendency to get sentimental at this time in a man's life, of challenges met, of obstacles overcome, and of a life ready to begin. But in this moment, knowing that work for the preparation for that life is complete, there is only satisfaction in a thing done well.

What's next?

Thirsty Thursday: 2002 Eos "The French Connection" (Proprietary Blend), Paso Robles, California

I'm sorry I've been a blog delinquent lately. I've been busy trying to graduate from college. I'm in the midst of writing a 20-page paper, my very last assignment before getting a diploma, on the merits of regional integration in West Africa. With 9 pages already written, I'm settling down to watch Daisuke pitch at home and thought I'd pass on another wine review.

I actually picked this wine up last weekend, celebrating the completion of my two toughest exams of the semester. Okay, to be fair, only one of them was tough. But I still wanted to celebrate, and what I found with Eos was a smooth wine with lots of body and rich flavors.

Here are the notes:

Blackberries dominate the nose and remain a main feature on the palate. The fruit forward palate is rather languid, even subdued, with a lot of smoothness in the mouth. The fruit notes of raspberries and ripe cherries are lovingly accented by a taste of cedar. The finish is mild and smooth again with mint an more cedar flavors rounding out this very balanced wine.

Overall: 89, Purchased at Cambridge Wine and Spirits, Fresh Pond, Cambridge, MA, $19.99

It Was Blood

Big news out of Red Sox Nation this week. No, it's not that we're in first place in a division that is getting rapidly weaker as our bats are coming out of their winter slumber, or the fact that The Dais-Man is making his first start at the Toilet tonight, or that Josh Beckett now has 5 wins from 5 starts. No, this week, we focused on whether Curt Schilling painted his sock in the 2004 ALCS to make it look like he was bleeding.

And why are focused on this "story?" Because new Orioles announcer Gary Thorne is a delightfully ignorant asshat who apparently couldn't pick sarcasm out of a crowded room with two hands and a flashlight. Thorne was chatting in the Red Sox clubhouse before yesterday's game with Doug "Cassus Belli" Mirabelli about summary topics which are probably not that interesting when Dougie Who Hits Bombs volunteered the "information" about the Sock which turned Schilling into both a baseball god and a folk hero.

Then, of course, every other ninny sportswriter, not having any copy to actually put in a paper yesterday, picked up the story and it blew out of control.

In response, Schilling has posted a reaction on his blog, 38 Pitches. Here's my favorite part:

"If you have the nuts, or the guts, grab an orthopedic surgeon, have them suture your ankle skin down to the tissue covering the bone in your ankle joint, then walk around for 4 hours. After that go find a mound, throw a hundred or so pitches, run over, cover first a few times. When you’re done check that ankle and see if it bleeds. It will."

I mean, how ballsy is that? Seriously. So, Gary Thorne, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

People are Creative (Or: Why I Love YouTube)

The Mii Lebowski.



Hilarious.

Also, this is why I love Mystery Science Theater 3000:



Anyway, I'm off to the Sox-Yanks at Fenway. You can be relatively sure there'll be a post about it later. Hopefully not involving any Yankee fans running afoul of "Punch Sideiron" or "Big McLargehuge."

Thirsty Thursday: 2001 Paul Jaboulet Ainé, Beaumes-de-Venise, Côtes-du-Rhône Villages, France

As we draw this exceptionally long and tiring week to a close, it's time for another wine review. I decided to go back to basics this week, and take a look at an affordable wine from one of the Motherland of Wine's oldest and most storied regions, the Rhone Valley.

Here are the notes.

Faint nose is met by a smooth palate, both of which are dominated by vanilla spice with fruit only barely noticeable. Good concentration of flavors after the wine opens up a little (at six years in the bottle and 14% alcohol, this wine will need 20 minutes or so before its drinkable...learned that lesson the hard way), but the astringent nature of the wine still tends to mask the flavors which seem overly soft. The finish is barely there, and seems to evaporate almost immediately.

Overall: 84, Purchased at Cambridge Wine and Spirits, Fresh Pond, Cambridge, MA. $11.99 on sale.

We Are Virginia Tech

I wasn't able to catch all of today's convocation in Blacksburg, I had to work on a project for the balance of the afternoon. In one of my breaks, however, I flipped over to CNN's coverage just in time to hear Nikki Giovanni, the noted poet and English professor at Virginia Tech deliver an incredibly moving, and powerful work to the community gathered there. Let me put it this way, anytime you can make an arena full of people in the darkest depths of their mourning and shock and sadness stand up, clap their hands and affirm at the top of their lungs who they are, you're doing your job.

---

We are Virginia Tech. We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on. We are embracing our mourning. We are Virginia Tech.

We are strong enough to stand tall tearlessly. We are brave enough to bend to cry, and sad enough to know we must laugh again. We are Virginia Tech. We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did nothing to deserve it. But neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS. Neither do the invisible children walking the night away to avoid being captured by a rogue army.

Neither does the baby elephant watching his community being devastated for ivory. Neither does the Mexican child looking for fresh water. Neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of the night in his crib in the home his father built with his own hands, being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized.

No one deserves a tragedy. We are Virginia Tech. The Hokie nation embraces our own and reaches out with open heart and hand to those who offer their hearts and minds. We are strong and brave and innocent and unafraid. We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be.

We are alive to the imagination and the possibility we will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears, through all this sadness.

We are the Hokies.

We will prevail.

We will prevail.

We will prevail.

We are Virginia Tech.

Blacksburg

We still don't know all the details of what happened this morning on the campus of Virginia Tech. What we do know is that this morning's incident was a tragedy of massive proportions that will affect this nation for years to come. The worst part may yet be, however, the thought that any of us in college could have been those students in Norris Hall.

We don't know, and it's easy to second guess the response of the University administration and police at this point without all the facts, but we do not know if this horror could have been prevented. College campuses are an open place, where young people come and go as they please, as they should. But that allows for the possibility that situations like today could take place. That someone acting alone could take over a building and empty a magazine of bullets and reign destruction and terror down upon innocent students.

And then reload.

And reload again.

And again.

But today is not a day to talk about campus security. Or gun control. Or the culture of cyclical violence in America. Those are important debates. And as this is America, we will have them. But we will have them tomorrow and the next day and beyond.

Today, we must remember the dead and help give strength to the living. Because they endured a scene of unimaginable terror, one that no one should ever face. My heart, and I hope those of all Americans and especially those of fellow students, is in Blacksburg tonight.

Thirsty Thursday: 2004 Kumkani Pinotage, Stellenbosch, South Africa

Yes, I know it's Friday morning. But the title remains. If you're having lamb for Easter, this wine would be magnificent. Or, if you're just looking for something to sip on this cold New England weekend, this wine would do well in that endeavor as well. I wish I had discovered this wine while I was in South Africa, so that I could have visited the vineyard in Stellenbosch. Alas, I didn't, so I suppose I'll have to go back. Anyway, the notes:

The first thing I noticed about this wine was the excellent color concentration. Brilliant, shimmering maroon color in the glass with salmon ring when tipped. The nose and palate have delightful hints of raspberry and other summer berry flavors which add lightness to the earthy backbone of the Pinotage grape. The taste is well balanced across the palate, and the finish seems to linger for hours, as you bask in the warm glow of this light-bodied yet hearty wine.

Overall: 94, Purchased at Cambridge Wine and Spirits (formerly Mall Discount Liquors), Fresh Pond, Cambridge, $14.99.

XBox Hero (With Stars in My Eyes)

I bought an XBox last night. It was an impulse buy, but I challenge any of you to not do the same thing. My roommate Jon's friend called him up, offering his XBox for $50 as he needed to buy some peripherals for his new Wii. Jon, being an idiot, passed on the offer. So I made it my business to jump at it.

Now, on the face of it, $50 for an XBox is a steal. But this ain't no ordinary XBox. No, the kid selling it is a tech guru who got the thing modified so that it has a 60GB hard drive which can download any XBox game on to it and have forever. It came packed with MVP Baseball 2005, Rugby 2005, Tony Hawk 3 and a bunch of other stuff. Oh yeah, and it has emulators so I can play games going back to old school Nintendo.

This purchase is one of, if not the best, I have ever made. And yes, I may never leave the house again.

For What It's Worth: A Final Four Preview

I should mention right from the outset that if things don't go my way tonight, I will lose my Facebook pool to a guinea pig.

That's right, my asshat roommate decided to have some fun and have Mimosa, the house guinea pig, make selections for the NCAA Tournament. Now, some of Mimosa's picks were off base - she did have Oral Roberts in the Elite 8 - but a lot of them were on point. The crux of the discussion is this: Because I have terrible luck, and overthink almost all of my picks at Tournament time, if Ohio State wins tonight, I will lose to Mimosa. Here's to hoping that doesn't happen. So now, here's how the games breakdown, as I see it.

(2) Georgetown vs. (1) Ohio State

This game should be one for the ages. There are not two better matched teams in the entire tournament. And, it's the first game of the night, so the first half should be fairly slow, keeping the game close. It is going to be a battle of the big men, and we will see if both Greg Oden and Roy Hibbert can stay out of foul trouble. If that part of the game gets disrupted, Ohio State wins going away on the strength of guard play led by Mike Conley, Jr. However, I believe that Hibbert will have the presence of mind to play Oden close, perhaps even drawing a couple fouls off him, while staying out of trouble himself. That will allow him and Patrick Ewing, Jr. to control the tempo and Georgetown to eke out a close victory late in the game. And, seriously, I'm not just picking against the Guinea Pig.

Prediction: Georgetown 82, Ohio State 78.

(1) Florida vs. (2) UCLA

There are a lot of "if's" here for UCLA. IF Afflalo stays hot, and IF the inside game doesn't get too disrupted by Al Horford and Joakim Noah, and IF other guys can pick up the perimeter shooting, then UCLA is probably the best team in the country right now. However, IF one of those aforementioned possibilities doesn't come through, the Gators will win going away. The fact of the matter is that UCLA was overmatched against Kansas and came out on top, and IF that same team shows up tonight, they'll play for the national title on Monday. I believe that team will show and the Gators will - FINALLY! - be shut down.

Prediction: UCLA 71, Florida 65.

Brooklyn Pizza Gossip

Last night, I had one of the great experiences of my life, and not only because it allowed to love Tufts University by hating Tufts University. Mike Doughty (which, if you are not familiar with his work by now, you, sir or madam, are simply not paying attention to me) graced Walnut Hill with his presence for the rather conspicuously titled "Jumbo Jam" held in Dewick-MacPhie Dining Hall.

That's right, one of the great poets and musicians of our generation, a man tortured by genius and drug abuse (though fastidiously living the clean life these days, and making better music for it) played in the very same place where I have been eating PB&J sandwiches to cure hangovers for the last five years. Concert Board, however, is some combination of Lo-Fi and Bush League. By the time Doughty, clad in what he described as a "clean" shirt, and old school DC kicks, and Andrew "Scrap" Livingston took the stage at 9:30 there were less than forty people in the room. This mostly due to the fact that Concert Board kept this show a closely guarded secret. Seriously, you wouldn't have known this show was even happening unless you happened to see the ONE advert they placed in the Tufts Daily. Their shortcomings were enunciated by a skeptical Doughty who took the stage and thanked us for the invite to "Jumbo Jam" informing us that since we brought the Jumbo, he would bring the Jam. Thank god he didn't phone it in.

The show opened with "Put It Down" one of Doughty's newest concoctions, a song which needed some tightening to be sure, but has a lot of promise. I can't wait to hear it on the new record. He and Scrap then launched into a grab bag of his greatest hits, reaching all the way back to Ruby Vroom with True Dreams of Wichita and later Janine, along with some of his solo greatness with selections like Thank You, Lord, For Sending Me The F Train and Madeline and Nine. The set was action packed and pleasing to the superfan like me, despite the fact that my demands for a rendition of "Firetruck" were not met.

But, it was after being asked where the rest of the band was that the show got real interesting. He made a joke that Scrap had eaten them. Now, this joke brought in a new wrinkle. Doughty had mentioned several time on his blog (which is linked on the blogroll) that he and his bandmates - including the aforementioned man of mystery, Mr. Livingston - enjoyed the pizza at Brooklyn institution DiFara's. In the course of my blog reading last week, I came upon an article at SliceNY saying that DiFara's had been shut down, apparently for health code violations. It later turned out those violations had to do with rat feces being found in the food prep area. Anyway, cut back to the show, James decides to shout to the stage, in reply to the Scrap eating the band joke that Scrap was hungry because he couldn't get a slice at DiFara's as it was closed. Doughty laughed, and said "No, I think it's open." At this point, since no one else in the room was really paying attention, Mike Doughty and I start having a conversation. It is reproduced below, in its entirety:

Me: "Oh, really? Did they reopen it?"

Doughty: "What? RE-open?"

Me: "Yeah, the Board of Health shut it down."

Doughty: (obviously shocked and horrified) "WHAT!?!?"

Me: "Yeah, two weeks ago."

(Insert a very uneasy look between Scrap and Doughty here)

Doughty: (realizing the audience is still in the room) "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm sorry, I need to engage in some Brooklyn pizza gossip."

We then agreed we would talk more about it after the show.

So, when Doughty was done with his masterful set, punctuated by Looking at the World From The Bottom of the Well, James and I stuck around to give him more information about DiFara's. He was agog to learn. Scrap was mortified, saying to me "I eat there like every day when I'm in Brooklyn." And Doughty informed me that he would google the incident as soon as he got back to Brooklyn.

Anyway, that was my brush with fame. I shook both their hands and thanked them for a great set as they headed back to Brooklyn to celebrate Scrap's daughter, Larry, and her birthday. In a way, I feel like I know what it must have been like for Bernie Gilmore, my old College Bowl advisor, when, at Yale in the early '80s, informed a young woman on the quad that President Reagan had been shot. That young lady was Jodie Foster, the object of affection for John Hinckley, and the point behind his rampage.

In any case, it was a great show. Zox followed. They were really terrible. And Concert Board made me remember why I hate this university so very, very much.

Dropping the Ball

I'm going to have a much longer post later today (or tomorrow...or something) about what I did last night. Needless to say, it was AMAZING! But you will hear more about this later. Right now I need to focus some anger on Major League Baseball.

A story posted on Boston.com this morning shows why the organization of baseball has gone completely beyond the pale. Johnny Pesky, the man who actually embodies what it means to be a Boston Red Sox, a man who waited literally his entire life - he was born in 1919 - to see his team win a World Series, a man who has given his life to our Nation, is being barred by Major League Baseball from wearing a uniform and sitting in the dugout.

I still get tears in my eyes when I watch the video of Johnny Pesky, sitting in the clubhouse watching Keith Foulke stab a grounder from Edgar Renteria, and underhand it to Doug Mientkiewicz to bring the World Championship to Boston for the first time in 86 long years. Pesky himself had suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. For years, he was blamed - unjustly - for double-clutching on the relay throw which might have gotten Enos Slaughter at the plate and saved the Red Sox' chances of winning the 1946 World Series. He has spent literally the rest of his life making it up to Red Sox Nation. He hits fungoes in Spring Training. He is a mentor to young players, a skill which is invaluable even in today's game. And for years he has been the face of the organization.

Major League Baseball needs to get its head out of its ass on this one. They have been trying to get Pesky out of the dugout for years to little or no avail. The man is 88 years old. He should be treated like a national treasure for what he has done with his life, not given the bum's rush in the name of "rules and regulations."

P.S. I know I didn't do a wine review this week. My apologies.

Thirsty Thursday: 2005 Oyster Bay Pinot Noir, New Zealand

Well I have returned from New York to the friendly confines of Hillsdale Road in Medford and it's time for your weekly wine review. Usually I enjoy sitting back on a Thursday night, the bulk of my week's work at an end, and enjoy a fine glass of wine. Tonight however will be dominated by basketball and beer, so we're turning back the clock to Tuesday night when Luke, Jill, Megan and I watched American Idol at Luke's Upper East Side apartment with a few bottles of wine purchased around the corner. We decided not to keep Luke's usual tradition of wine drinking, and not break the bottle open on the street and drink with the hobos. Instead, we gathered around the old plasma screen with a bottle of NZ Pinot and watch Sanjaya caterwaul and make little girls cry, while we all sat gnashing our teeth in disbelief. Anyway, on to the review:

This wine was disappointing, as I'd heard a lot recently about Pinot gaining strength down under. Instead, we were met with a limp, flavorless offering with very few redeeming qualities. The nose was light and airy with barely a hint of berry flavors. The palate tastes were flat and disjointed with overbearing sensations of terroir. The finish was nearly non-existent and did not add anything the character of the wine.

Overall: 82, Purchased at Vintage Grape, 2nd Avenue at 84th Street, New York City, $15