There are a dozen, at least, things

To love about the Stones', Exile on Main Street.

"Really, Keef, I thought that Margaux was disappointing."

But the thing I love most about this masterpiece is how, even though Exile has a "modest" hit on it, Tumbling Dice, and a couple of FM radio staples, All Down the Line, and Happy, that it still seems like that cult, secret, record that you push on to friends, "Hey, check this out, Man."  It is the largest secret available, an absolute subversive massive monster that millions can feel like they are the only person that understands the record, truly.

Accidental, prob.  The group were not pleased with the results until someone told them otherwise.  But how fucking often are rock groups aware of greatness? They almost always get it wrong.  They do not get it right until the cash registers ring, or (in the Stones' case) Griel Marcus says, "It is okay."

And, just for good measure, my fave Exile story is Keef saying he is gonna check on his son, and disappearing for three days (doing smack.)

And, my fave moment on the record is Jimmy Miller's brill idea to put the horns on late on Rocks Off (the most under appreciated Stones' song of all-time) like he did with Bitch (maybe my fave Stones' song ever, Gimme Shelter and Live With Me are pretty good, too.)

I am drinking Yellow Label

Anyway.

That is why the Rangers lost.  Because I put a bottle of Yellow Label in the fridge Weds night.  The wife came home the same night, late, "There is," she said, "A bottle of Veuve in the fridge."  So, really, it is her fault.  I said, "No, there is not.  You did not see that."

S'funny, all the crazy superstitions re sports.  I must say, you ne'er see so many people praying outside of church as at a World Serious game.  I changed everything up after game six (what is it about game sixes?) and it still did not matter a whit.  I listened to music on the way home, (my Freakbeat cds that I am sharing with my musically inclined friends.  Would you like one? Tell me.  I am making them for Dylan, Chris Mc, my exquisite Da, Nick C, Jared, and who knows, maybe you) put my ring back on, had a lucky found toy in my bag, took the bridge instead of crossing the street (or, was it the other way around, whate'er), anything I could do to change what I knew was inevitable.

But I am drinking Yellow Label, anyway.  Are you kidding me? Back to back pennants? Hell, even the Giants and Cards did not do that.

Was it a dramatic, fun World Serious? Yes.  Was it a great, yeah, I know it went seven games, World Serious? No.  I know, I know, my team lost.  But, there were too many errors and too many bone-headed decisions (by both managers) and not enough good starting pitching to call the 2011 World Serious a classic.  Oh, I know, the Cards comeback in game six will live forever in history (much to my chagrin), but this was not an all-time classic, as far as I am concerned.  It was a good World Serious, much better than last year's (obv.  Oh, shit, that was my club, too.)

But, hey, I do not follow the Indians.  Or the Mariners.  Or the Cubs.

A dude on BBTiA pointed out something v valuable:  The Brooklyn Dodgers sucked forever, finally got good and it took like four or five World Serious before they got it done.  Or, he went on, consider the second best team in recent history, the Maddux/Glavine/Smoltz Braves.  They lost in '91 and '92, did not make it in '93, were shut oot, like everybody in '94, before finally winning it in '95.  And then the Yankees ruled the world.  (They do not rule the AL anymore.  The Rangers do.)

Think about that for a second.  The Rangers are the class of the American League.  A league that has the Yankees and the Red Sox.  And, that because of stupid Bud Selig's fiat, did not have home field advantage in the World Serious at least once in the past two years.  The Giants won their division last year, and won one more game than the Rangers, okay.  The Cardinals were Wild Card winners on the last day of the season and had fewer wins than the Rangers.  Bud is gone after this season.  He has been one of the absolute, prob worst Commissioners ever.  Please please please abolish this rule, the All-Star game winner getting home field, please.  (And do not do this 10 team playoff idea.)  You have the idiotic inter-league play, already, (get rid of that, too) so, let the Club with the best record have home field.

It is all about Yu Darvish now in Ranger world.  Who is Yu Darvish? Darvish is gonna change baseball one way or the other, no matter what club he ends up with, but that club is gonna be the Rangers.  Everyone in baseball (incl the Yankees and Red Sox) know that the Rangers are going to do every single thing to make Darvish ours.

Unlike other great Japanese pitchers, Darvish is profoundly young.  And unlike Dice-K, the Dodgers guy, and all the others, Darvish is obscenely great.  He has disgustingly good command of four or five pitches and has his own frickin pitch, to boot, that is all his own.

This is what Darvish looks like:

He is tall, looks Western, and is about to blow MLB up, Ranger or not.  But, I believe that the Rangers are mighty prepared to let CJ Wilson go (boy, did he hurt his FA case in this last post-season) and bring this guy to Texas.  (And, I am not the only one.)

Jon Daniels, the Rangers' GM, still does not have that shiny 30 flag trophy, but no one, no one in his job is more prepared or savvy, to get that thing done.

The Rangers are gonna be like the Braves of the nineties (and beyond), I believe.  They are going to win a number of pennants, suffer heartbreak in the World Serious, and win one or two before all is said and done.

And, jeez, I have not even mentioned Martin Perez or Jurickson Profar yet.

I will save that for another time.

Congrats, Cards.

But the mo-fo Texas Rangers are not going anywhere.  We are for real, finally.

Paul Ritchie & The Cryin Shames , Come On Back

It is a rather slim volume,

More like the size of the Kermit Lynch newsletter, that tells the tale of the Texas Rangers Post-Season History.  And yet, another chapter was writ last night.

Man, you have got to shave that thing. No, wait, keep it.

Joey from BBTiA favors Cliff Lee's game three performance against the Yankees last year in the ALCS.  Others have mentioned Colby Lewis' outing against the same Yankee club in the pennant-clinching game six.  I immediately thought about Lee's start against the Rays last year in the ALDS game five. And there is Colby Lewis' game three World Serious win last year to consider, too, who, before last night was the only Ranger starter ever (slim volume, indeed) to garner a win in the the Fall Classic.


But considering everything that happened Saturday night, Pujols three home runs, all of them monster shots, over twelve-hundred feet in total; a shellshocked, weary bullpen; and the fact that Derek Holland had not performed up to expectations in the Post-Season, at all; Holland's performance last night, to this viewer, was the best.

Essentially, the twenty-five year old boy from Ohio was told last night, "There is no bullpen tonight, except for Feliz.  The team that scored sixteen runs on us the night before, you are going to have to neutralize them, and you are going to have to give us seven innings, at least.  And that guy, Albert, who crushed us last night, I want you to pitch him inside, and challenge him.  You are going to pitch to Pujols.  Do not walk him unless I tell you to.  And, by the way, Derek, if you have not noticed, this is the World Serious, and the entire Texas Rangers' season is on the line.  Now go get 'em."

And he got 'em.  Eight and one third IP, two hits, seven Ks, and two walks.  Only three balls were hit out of the infield the entire time Holland was on the mound.  Those were Berkman's double and a single, and a lazy fly ball by Molina.

Ranger fans knew after this season that Holland could do this.  He tied the Rays' James Shields for the most CG Shutouts, four, in the American League this year.  (Lee, with the Phillies now, led the Majors, with six.)  But he struggled with his command, could not get his fastball (94-96 mph) over for strikes, walked batters, and generally, kind of stunk throughout the playoffs.  And, of course, most serious baseball fans and all Giants and Rangers fans remember Holland's embarrassing performance last year, in relief, against the Giants in game two of the World Serious, in which, Holland, absolutely could not throw a strike, walking three straight batters before being yanked, and helping turn a one run Ranger deficit in the eighth inning in to a nine nil loss.

Honestly, yesterday, before the game, I thought this series was over for the Rangers.  I still have my doubts.  But, natch, I feel much better today.

There is, of course, much displeasure today in the St Louis media and clubhouse re Kapel's strike zone last night.  Kapel was the first base Umpire Saturday, who botched Napoli's tag on Holliday, which would have completed the double play and changed the complexion of that inning (the Cardinals scored four times) and, perhaps, the game, had he got it right.  Kapel is from St Louis and lives there, so, the Conspiracy Theorists were in full force.  I thought Kapel called a fair game last night, and he did call the Kinsler steal in game two exactly right, on a call that often times Umpires get wrong.  Basically, he knows he messed up in game three, admitted it, and it is time to move on.  He was not pitching when Pujols and Molina combined for ten RBIs Saturday night.

Still, seeing Holliday scream from the dugout last night, "That was not a strike!", and the two other Cardinals who got up in Kapel's grille on called third strikes, does not endear me to this ballclub.  Plus, Pujols, himself, taunted the Baseball Gods Saturday evening by saying, "That's the way baseball go" after his historic night.  "That's the way the baseball go" is a Ron Washington "Wash-ism", if you will, something Wash says all the time, and Pujols had better watch it, because you do not want to piss off the Baseball Gods.  (This also after Pujols' costly error in the ninth inning of game two contributed to the Cardinals' shocking loss and Pujols refused to talk to the media after the game.)  Then there were Berkman's idiotic comments in the past off-season, explaining why, he, a free agent, a Texan, and former long-time Astro, chose to go to St Louis over the Rangers, who were interested in signing him, saying, essentially, that since the Rangers could not sign Lee, that they were a one-trick pony, and that spending so much money on Adrian Beltre was a colossal blunder, still chaps my hide.  Berkman has apologized for his comments.  I am sure he popped off, stupidly, and feels bad about it now, but it still upsets me because it exposes the same old crappy National League bias, and reflects the still too prevalent "It's too hot/The Rangers suck/Fill-in the-blank" meme.  (And, yes, I know, I know, there is no better way to blast this meme to smitherenes than to see Berkman called out looking for the final out of this series.)

Unlike the previously vanquished Tigers and Rays, I am not feeling much love for Tony LaRussa's Cardinals, as you might have noticed.  I have met LaRussa before, a number of times, as a shopper in the stores I work at, and he is a real jerk.  I also read an SI excerpt from that book, I cannot remember the name of it, about the Cubs and the Cards, which pretty much outlined, "Tony's Rules For Plunking Batters."  Look, I get it, LaRussa is a win at all costs, Durocher kind of Manager, but having seen younger Managers, like Washington and Maddon in Tampa, to tell you the truth, I am oh so tired of that type of baseball.  You can win without being a jerk.  And LaRussa and Mike Scioscia should be clinking drinks in Maui right about now, reliving past glories.  Do not get me wrong about one thing, though.  LaRussa and Scioscia are excellent Managers (TLR much better than Scioscia, who seems to have lost the plot lately) but they are both assholes.  It is possible, I am not totally sure, now that the Rangers have tasted success, that I would be happier with a loser nice-guy Joe Maddon than a winning TLR as the Manager of the club I support.

And speaking of nice guy Managers, Ron Washington has been taking a beating again, lately.  That is what happens when you bump in to the hottest, best rotation in baseball in the World Serious, i.e. last year against the Giants.  It is the same old tired-ass story.  Wash is a "players-Manager" and cannot do the stratagery (sic, on purpose) necessary to Win the Whole Damn Thing.  What a bunch of poop.  It was supposed to be obvious to any one watching this World Serious that Wash would get hoodwinked by the genius, LaRussa, and that although Wash was great at pumping up his players, Wash would fail at the ticky-tack, crucial decisions that win World Titles.

Well, let us go back and watch the film, yes? Ogando v Craig twice? Both the right call, both times fantastic pitches, both times Craig fucking pulled it out.  Credit to Craig.  (Craig is 0-7 in his last at-bats since his first inning, game three home run.)  The pinch-hitting choices Wash made in game one are fine to me (and Bruce Jenkins, although, then he used his column to bitch about the DH again, sigh, ... ) and starting Moreland last night, despite knowing that Mitch cannot hit a lick right now, was a v smart move.  Moreland made a couple of key defensive plays on dig-outs thrown to him, and Young and Napoli had not played well at first base the previous two games.

What Bruce Jenkins pointed out in his most recent Three Dot Lounge column, and what I, myself, have pointed out before in this very blog, that, somehow, all these typewriter jockeys do not seem to get is that this is not Strat-o-Matic, or APBA.  These are human beings (extremely egotistical, high paid human beings) that Managers like Wash have to deal with, every day, for nine months a year, living with these superstars.  They are not cards you can shuffle around on a whim, or bits of computer data that understand what it is like to have a drug addiction or go through a brutal divorce.

I will close, describing, what I know will be my favorite Ranger moments ever, no matter what happens tonight (and I will finally make an idiotic prediction in just a moment), and that is Players-Manager, Ron Washington, slapping caps and cheeks and having an (absolutely essential) "Come to Jesus" moment with Derek "Dutch" Holland before the game last night.  And then Wash's long (stalling- and Kapel came out and Wash did not give a tinker's damn) conversation with Holland at the mound in the ninth, Feliz coming in.  The ovation Holland got from those fans in football crazed, now Ranger obsessed Texas is something I will never forget.  (And Dutch's interview right after the game was super special, too.)  That is what Ron Washington brings to the Rangers.  Ron Washington helped make the Rangers the best baserunning ballclub in the Majors.  (Hullo, win in game two.)  It was Ron Washington who helped make the Rangers in to one of the defensive clubs in baseball.  (Hullo, wins in games two and four.)  And it was Ron Washington who gave Derek Holland the "Come to Jesus" he so sorely needed.  Ron Washington.  When Eric Chavez, of the A's, won his second Gold Glove, he gave it to Ron Washington, for all the hard work Wash poured in to making Chavez a better player.  When Jason Giambi, with the Yankees, at the time, pulled in to Oakland, right after Hurricane Katrina had destroyed Wash's NOLA home, Giambi handed Wash a check for $25,000.  I will take that Players-Manager over genius LaRussa/Scioscia every day of the week (and twice on Sundays.)

The last time the Rangers lost two games in a row was that dreadful series at home against the Red Sox.  The Rangers won the first one and then got obliterated in the next three.  I remember my Giants fans friends, since a couple of these games were on national teevee, really giving me the business after the series.  The Rangers were next to play the Angels in a v crucial series, and there was much hand-wringing in Ranger nation that perhaps the record super-hot Dallas weather had drained our starters of life and that the Rangers would, naturally, "wilt in the heat, again."  What a load of shit! This was the last great moment for the Red Sox, their 3-1 series win against the AL West division leaders, on the road, before their own monumental Red Sox-ian September collapse in the v tranquil New England weather.  (If the Rangers win the World Serious, they might, might finally put all that, "It's too hot," shit to rest.)  Here they are:  13-2 Red Sox and 6-0 Red Sox.

Every team the Rangers have come up against, as I have talked to my friends, has said the same thing:  "Well, they are really hot right now."  And they have been right.  The Rays played pretty well in September and got helped by a complete Red Sox meltdown.  The Tigers have played some excellent baseball, lately, as well, completely shutting down the AL Central by Labor Day.  And the Cardinals have played well, too.  Though, they were also helped by a major Braves collapse.

None of my baseball friends ever remark that the Rangers went thirty-five and fifteen over their last fifty games.  Or, that the Rangers are currently nine and five in the post-season.  That adds up to forty-four and twenty, lately.  Yeah, that is hot.

My prediction is:  The last time the Rangers got worked this bad was the 9-0 defeat by the Tampa Rays in game one of the ALDS.  After that, the Rangers ripped off five victories in a row, including a series clincher.  I think the Rangers will wrap this up in St Louis on Weds night.

All my love,
Ardent.

There is a mean old

Cat Lady that lives just a few doors down from us.  She hates us (me, Renee has ne'er talked to her.)

She hates me b/c I confused the name of one of her cats w/ another cat that prowls around the Golf Course Condo Extravaganza we live in.

She has a male cat, Sparkles, (what the hell, I am sorry, kind of name is that? Especially for a cat) that weighs over thirty pounds.

Sparkles is grey and white.

Anyhoo, the Mean Old Cat Lady showed up at my store the other day.  I had ne'er seen her there before.  She was coming out of the bathroom, natch, and def saw me but despite my pleasant smile, acted as if she had no idea who I was.

Mean Old Cat Lady has a v large (not too chic) purple purse.

I tried to point out Mean Old Cat Lady to my buddy, Nick C, who was working with me at the time.  We were at the "Cheese Island", surrounded by the "Coffin Case", and Nick C was intently helping a moderately difficult customer whilst Mean Old Cat Lady was across from us, facing the other direction, at the Prepared Foods Counter.

I knew I could not have a conversation w/ Nick C, so, I took a small "taster" piece of wax paper and drew an arrow on't w/ a Sharpie.  Underneath the arrow I wrote the following words, "Mean Old Cat Lady (purple purse)".  I would move the arrow like a Ouija board towards my victim so that perchance Nick C got a chance, he would see her.

It did not work.

But we had a good laugh.

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

This was the same night the Rangers clinched the pennant.  And as Renee fell asleep on my  lap, me stroking her lovely curly locks, I heard a hiss.

We had left the main porch door open.  (It has been hot here, still.)  And there was a cat right up against our screen confronting Molly (our kitten).

It was forty pound Sparkles, right up in Molly's (and ours) grille.

Sparkles had ne'er been on our porch before, much less right up against the screen.  


I chased him off (but when I went to smoke later and Molly was quite content on the couch, away from the windoor) Sparkles had returned.

He ran away again.

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

You have got to be
Wary
Of the mean
Old
Cat Lady

Despite a v embarrassing and awful

Montage sequence that inexplicably included what sounds like an emo American indie song (plop in the middle of a French film), Le Noms des Gens (The Names of Love [US title]), is one of the best comedies I have seen in years.

Right from the beginning, with actor, Jacques Gamblin, lamenting his plight of having the most common name in France, Arthur Martin, comparing his situation to that of the North Korean football team in the most recent World Cup (nine of their starting eleven had the surname, Kim), I knew this was going to be my kind of movie.

"Look at my GIANT, gaudy trophy. And my Cuh-razy pumps."

Of course, just the premise of the film is right in my wheelhouse:  Gamblin (Martin) is "seduced" and falls for a French/Algerian beauty, Sara Forestier (her character's name is Baya), who sleeps with Right-Wingers in order to convert them to the Left and cure them of their fascisme.  Gamblin is not a Right-Winger, he always votes for the Socialist, Jospin, who always finishes a v distant third in every general election (the bulk of the film of the film is set in the late 1980s) but Forestier "likes" him, probably due to the fact that, like her, there are "taboos", secrets in his family's past.

Both families, and those dreaded "taboos", are used to hilarious effect throughout the film.  Gamblin's parents, in particular, who are obsessed with all the "superior" technologies that ultimately flop, i.e. Betamax and the first giant laserdiscs that came out.

The film, co-written and directed by Michel Leclerc, is obviously influenced by Woody Allen's work, especially Annie Hall, even including some crustacean scenes.  It is a delight to watch, very sexy, and extremely funny.  And also, like a lot of really good comedies, it has a crucial, serious center, regarding immigration, religion, and the "secrets and lies" that all families share.

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

A couple of years ago I was channel hopping late at night and happened upon a famous, modern French film star (I do not remember his name) on Charlie Rose's awful program.  The actor was bitching about the "new French cinema" and how it was just like Hollywood now, homogenized, and "safe".  "Where are all the Godards and Truffauts and Melvilles and Rohmers these days," he seemed to be suggesting.  And, yes, I know that Godard is still alive and just came out with a new film (which I am still hoping I get a chance to see soon).  But back then, I really had no idea what he was talking about.  I was not watching a lot of French cinema then.  Now that I am watching a good deal more French films these days, I see exactly what he was talking about.  As much as I love Le Nom des Gens or Love Crime or Carlos or Potiche, it is plain, that unlike the Cahiers du Cinema gang, who took the ideas of Hitchcock, Ford, Welles, and others to new and stratospheric heights, that the contemporary French cinema is tending to "copy" Hollywood style and directors, as opposed to using that style and those directors as inspiration.  Except, now, that I think about it, I might take Carlos (and Assayas) off that list because Assayas tackled the extremely difficult subject of terrorism in a moving, yet still, entertaining way.  Carlos' story cannot help but be entertaining and edge-of-you-seat viewing.  There is no way a film as good, like Carlos, could be made in Hollywood, no way.

Having said all that, I must admit that I am sure there are French auteurs today that I am not seeing here in the States, and that my access is limited.  It could v well be the case that I am merely getting access to the most US-friendly, Hollywood-ized French films there are.  I am hoping that is the case, and that I will eventually find all those "grimy/arty" films in the future.

And where are all the Jean-Pierre Melvilles these days? Although the style (espec the lighting) and music would have been decidedly different, Carlos, would be a topic that Melville would have relished.  (And he'd prob have done it in a hundred minutes, to boot.)

Mwah, ... 

Remember/The fifth/Of November

Nah, I am kidding.  (Though, I am becoming more and more sympathetic to Mr Fawkes' views on government by the day, despite the whole Catholic thing-y.)

No, I am saying that, You should remember a short series is not always the best measurement of two ballclubs that have already played, say, one hundred and seventy-five games.

Honestly, I think the Rangers, overall, were a better ballclub than the light-hitting, insanely great starting pitching SF Giants last year.  And look what happened, the Giants smoked, waxed, destroyed, whatever you want to say, the Rangers last year.

That is why I am a little bit scared.

"What? I'm left holding the bag? For crying out loud, they're going to put me on the rack!"

Once again, I believe the Rangers, overall, are better than the Cardinals, but that do not mean poop.  And you got to play the games.

The TradMedia is madly in love with St Louis and is picking LaRussa's bunch.  The Bill James/Baseball Prospectus crowd is more than narrowly picking the Rangers.

I am going to say it will be a tough series, but one the Rangers should win.  That is not a prediction.  I am like the aforementioned, James.  I cannot make predictions (in any sport) worth anything.

So, I am not about to start today.

The AL Championship defense started here.  In Surprise, AZ.

Let us play some baseball and see who comes out on top.  I am so looking forward to it.

Go Rangers, dang it.

KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON

I would just like to say, beforehand, that I know all about all the blood, torture, thievery, greed, malice, and pain that comes with any great Empire; and that the Welsh, Scots, and particularly the Irish probably do not see England (Britain) in quite the same light that I do; and also, that, regardless, I have my own v special love for Scotland and especially Ireland (I am part-Irish) that is wholly different from my supine adoration of England; and also that this post is meant in the most general and fun sort of way.  And, so, off we go:


KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON


What about plucky little England, hunh? Here we have a tiny little chain of islands off the coast of mainland Europe, that has never had a significantly large population, and has barely any natural resources to speak of (except its' citizens; more on them in a minute) that eventually found itself the largest and most powerful Empire in the world.  

Not to mention, Elizabeth I's Da, told the Pope and the Catholic Church to take a holy hike, and made it stick.  And, how the hell, did Elizabeth I take a motley, fractured, messed-up, in the midst of a Religious Civil War citizenry and defeat mighty Spain and put England on the map, in the first place? 


And, whilst all this Empire building was happening they somehow found time to create the greatest literary canon in Western Culture.  (Yeah, yeah, I know the Greeks invented theatre and poetry in the West, and philosophy, and just about everything else, really, but, like you see with Shakespeare, The Beatles, and the Stones, the English are just so damn good at riffing on other people's forms.)


How did they do this? It is the people.  


Now, I suppose you could call me a sentimental old sod, who has watched way too many Ealing films, always chuffed, watching them put the kettle on as the bombs are falling.  (Never forget that bombs were falling on Liverpool when both John Lennon and Ringo Starr were born.)  But make fun of the "Stiff Upper Lip" at your own peril.  It is an attitude our own nation should adopt, but seems nowhere near to doing.  Even when my mother was living in Switzerland (oh boie, is that a blog post for ya?! Ardent Henry on The Cantons of Helvetica? But I will save that beast for another day) and used to go to London quite frequently, all this right after scary nine-one-one, she seemed so impressed with the (not the right word, really) blase, or (not the right word, either- both French words, that is why) nonchalant attitude of Londoners in the midst of an attack on the Western World.


There is something in the soil.  Perhaps, it is terroir (yet another French word)?

When all is said and done, and they are grading the great Western Empires, I will take England over the United States every day of the week.  And that is even knowing that the United States at this point is the precocious, mouthy, spoiled tween that has grown up way too fast, but is still v young.  


(England still makes terrible cars and lousy food, though.  You cannot have everything.)






xxxoooxxx, 
Ardent


P.S.  My upstairs neighbors are Limeys, and they just had a baby boy, Henry.  Little Hank.  Little King Henry.

Yesterday was my Da's birthday,

"Thanks, Da."

Andy Spitler, the nicest, sweetest man ever.

Thanks for everything, Bud.  Talk to you soon, and I am sending you your present to Tulsa.

Love,
Michael

Rangers win the pennant (again!)

"What, we get another crack at this World Serious thing-y?"

Who would have thunk it? Once again I was in baseball limbo, furiously hitting refresh on my iPod touch (thanks, Steve Jobs, RIP, bruvver) at work.  Down one nil, then two nil, then up three two, then, after a mad rush of customers, and refilling the beer cooler, up nine runs to two.  Wha? Did that really happen?

And then I started to get really nervous, because, now I could taste it, back-to-back American League pennants.  That kind of stuff just does not happen to the Rangers.  I thought immediately of Alex Gibney's fantastic 30 For 30, Catching Hell doc about scapegoats and the Bartman incident, and how the truly bizarre, weird, crushing stuff always happens in Game Six.

The wife thought I was insane to be worried.  And to be honest, I did not really feel comfortable until Cruz hit his sixth home run of the series.  We were home by this point and I watched it unfold on the teevee from the bottom of the fifth until the confetti and I Like Texas ("love to drink that Shiner-Bock beer") by Pat Green showed up.

(And, what a wife? She drove a v nervous [basically I am insane, and unbearable re the Rangers] boie home from work, having procured a fab Chow pizza for me for dinner, "They scored nine runs in the third, what are you worried about?" Everything, love, everything.)

I love the Tigers, and I am so glad the Rangers will not have to go back to Comerica until next year.  Or see Miguel Cabrera until Spring 2012.  Or Justin Verlander.  Jim Leyland is a true class act, and a first ballot Hall of Fame manager, who was eloquent and graceful in defeat, a real gentleman.

And the series, though not going the full seven, was just a great series, much better than the Rangers pennant clinching series against the Yankees in 2010.  Extra innings twice, a postponement, rain delays, balls bouncing off of bases, smoking hot bullpens mowing batters down, twenty home runs (thirteen by the losing club, six by Cruz), starting pitching on both clubs looking for answers (after a v pitching dominant regular season this year), a walk-off Grand Slam, and on and on.

And how about this bad-ass NOLA resident doing the Funky Chicken?

I am still in pleasant, ludicrous shock, and I love it.

Mwah, ... 

I promise, I promise, I promise

This will not be a fucked-up (loaded) victory post.  I promise.

Because it def ain't over yet.  Verlander goes tomorrow, and Holland and Lewis for the Rangers have not exactly inspired confidence in this series.

Sorry, you do not to get to pass Go.

There was a moment for me at work, following on my iPod touch, going to the top of the 6th (Porcello had allowed one hit and struck out six) that I was like the great Spalding Grey, "So, if we do not make it to the World Serious, at least, We had a great year!" You know, lowering your expectations to deflate your sorrow.

But the Rangers rallied, took the lead, had Alexi Ogando, the Tiger-killer in there.  It was 3-2 Rangers right when I wanted to leave, but as I punched out, after no one watching any baseball, at all, tonight, there on the break room teevee was Inge celebrating his game tying home run.  (I completely missed the thrilling Cruz/Napoli/Cabrera play at the plate on the walk home.)

I was still a nervous wreck, especially during the Ollie and Boychik Feldman innings, but Hamilton lined his second double in a row off of Valverde, and I knew then it was over.

And I hate the Fox network.  And Fox News, for good measure.  And, I cannot tell you how glad I am that this game ruined the frickin' X-factor tonight.

Mwah, ... 

This should be a free-wheeling catch-all,

So, let us begin:

First, happy birthday to Jock Ono Lennon, who would have been seventy-one years old today.

And, secondly, keeping with the Beatle theme, the Scorsese-directed, George Harrison:  Living in the Material World, despite some crack editing, fabulous-sounding music (natch), and some great interviews, is a bit of a let-down.  It is especially a let-down to Beatle/Harrison fanatics like myself.  Although, as my wonderful wife, Renee, pointed out, the film looks much better to folks unfamiliar or ambivalent about the Beatles or Harrison.  (And it is only the true Beatle nuts, like myself, who are stunned to discover that anyone could be unfamiliar or ambivalent about the Beatles.)  Renee definitely has a point, and she is still watching the 208 minute doc in pieces, and she is enjoying it immensely and thus, lifting my feeling about it, as well.  The thing I am most disappointed about is the gloss over the Patty Boyd/Eric Clapton issue.  Scorsese got Ms Boyd to sit for an interview, she, the subject for two of the greatest rock songs of all-time, Something and Layla, but we never really get in to the crazy details of how these relationships started, changed, and dissolved.  I am not asking for some titillating TMZ/E Network grit-fest.  I trust that Boyd and Clapton (and interviews of the deceased Harrison) could handle this amazing Rock Story in a tasteful way, I mean, all three loved each other, right? (But just as I typed this, I also remembered Renee's reaction to some of Clapton's interviews, "He's kind of a jerk, isn't he? He is so full of himself." Spot on, Renee.  Just when I gave Slow Hand some credit for the George Harrison memorial concert, I go and see his nibs all smug and Blues-snooty in this documentary.  Clapton should just play guitar and "you, don't talk so much" [h/t This is Spinal Tap].)  The film also does not discuss the My Sweet Lord/He's So Fine lawsuit, at all, a massive, glaring, unforgivable omission, and glosses over the infamous 1974 US tour, with a coked-up Harrison, insisting that Ravi Shankar be a part of the bill; Harrison's voice shot, wheedling about God to the audience on every stop.  My other problem with the film is something Scorsese suggested but should have taken pains to really punch, and that is the paradox that was Harrison.  Harrison, the Roman Catholic from Liverpool, who went on a spiritual quest, not attached to Western Organized Religion, was also the same guy who was a tightwad with money, reluctant to even pick up dinner checks sometimes (but had no problem mortgaging one of houses to raise four million dollars to produce Life of Brian), who wrote the song Taxman, who published one of the most self-indugent, over-the-top, autobiography editions in recent memory, who was the man who organized the first big-time rock star benefit concert of all-time, who time and again, seemed to have an insanely insightful consoling nature with his friends and loved ones re death and loss and grief, who loved racing and super expensive sports cars, and on and on and on.  Like I said, much of that is in the film.  I just think Scorsese should have made that the focus of his film, his contradictory nature, as opposed to his Spiritual Quest.  Enough kvetching! Here is the good stuff from the film:  I did not even know Astrid Kirchherr was still alive, and when she unleashed that photograph of Lennon and Harrison in Stuart Sutcliffe's studio, that was taken right after Sutcliffe's death, I was near tears.  (Once again, here is Harrison, at eighteen, having some kind of other-worldly insight in to death that is beyond most folks, well before he discovered Eastern Spirituality.  Amazing.); the Phil Spector interviews about All Things Must Pass are well-worth watching, Spector wearing a Beatle-like wig, and his right hand shaking the entire time, discussing how George also liked to do nine million takes; all the Olivia Harrison interviews are spectacular, particularly the toughest one about the home-invasion and attack, and it is great to finally meet Ms Harrison, who is a smart, grounded, amazing person, in her own right, who Harrison was damned lucky to find, and marry.  Plus, their son, Dhani, seems to be a great guy, too, and he is v v v good-looking.  ... The addition of TCU to the Big 12 is a smart move, albeit one that should have been done last year.  I love  TCU football, they have built their whole program on stout defense and a power-rushing attack, my favorite type of football, to be honest, but I still believe the conference is in trouble, and that their idiotic concession to let UT have its' own network is supremely unfair to the other great Big 12 athletic programs and could (prob will) fracture the conference in the future.  (And every Sooner fan knows that the last team to beat the Sooners in Norman was the Horned Frogs, many years ago.) ... Renee and I loved Moneyball; Pitt was great, reminding me of seventies stars like Redford or Newman, in fact, the whole film had that 70s star-studded comedy feel to it; the script is great (Aaron Sorkin, co-wrote); it does not get bogged down in super stat-geek stuff; the guy playing now Ranger Manager, Ron Washington, gets a great laugh line (which you see in the commercials); it was long but not too long; it was just really good.  And it is wonderful to see a good, solid Hollywood comedy. They are few and far between these days.  My only problem was the amazing Seymour Hoffman's talents were sadly wasted here, he hardly has any scenes. ... Renee and I also loved Love Crime, a french thriller, obv influenced by Chabrol and Hitchcock.  Renee said it best, "It was sexy despite showing hardly any sex and it was violent despite showing hardly any violence."  A real must-see, folks. ... Still have not seen Drive, yet, maybe next week. ... Poor Justin Verlander seems to bring rain with him, wherever he goes.  He has had the worst luck this post-season, and yet, the Tigers remain a formidable foe.  And they are saying there could be more rain tonight, too.  Oh boy.

kisses,
xxx ooo xxx,

Ardent.

The baseball gods must have been

Busy elsewhere, or taking an extended nap, on Four, Eleven, Eleven, when they let Alexi Ogando and two relievers best Justin Verlander two-nil at Comerica Park in Detroit.

(I listened to the game at home, Eric Nadel and Dave Barnett, chatting with my Ranger buddies on BBTiA, and scoring the game.)  Here are those scoresheets:




Tigers




Rangers

 Comerica Park has been a House of Horrors for the Rangers since it opened and I took a great amount of pleasure in their gritty win that day.

(Ogando went seven innings, striking out six, while Verlander pitched a complete game.  The big Ranger hits were a pair of RBI doubles in the seventh by Michael "Face" Young and Mitch Moreland.  Verlander only walked one batter, Josh Hamilton, who subsequently scored on Face's double.)

I was so pleased with the victory and the Rangers' 9-1 start that I even wrote a short post on this blog, quoting my own comments on BBTiA later that day.

Well, the baseball gods woke the hell right up after that victory and promptly put Josh Hamilton on the DL for six weeks the very next day at Comerica on a head-first slide at home that also brought out tension between the star outfielder and the third base coach that sent him.  The Rangers, natch, lost that game and then the next four at Comerica, returning the basball universe to its' normal equalibrium.

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

This is going to be an extremely tough series for the Rangers to win, even though I believe the Rangers are the slightly superior team.  But in a short series against a club that will have Verlander going (at least) twice, my belief cuts v little ice.

I also expect the TradMedia to overwhelmingly pick the Tigers and the the stat geek/Baseball Prospectus crowd to slightly favor the Rangers.

And I am hoping that the baseball gods are either asleep at the wheel again or feel the karmic wheel should turn the Rangers' way next week in Detroit.  It should be a great series.  Let us play some baseball.  Go Rangers!

mwah, ...
kisses and love for all, ...