Three Of A Kind

The expression is that it always happens in threes. That, especially, people die in threes. Over the past week, this has been the case in the sports realm with the Blue Jays pitcher Kennedy, Sean Taylor and the first black All-American Bill Wilts. Working in news, I much more prone to mark these stories and see the correlation -- though, I think it may be merely coincidence. Sure it doesn't always happen, but it does more than you think and probably doesn't more than you think too.

But what about people being born in threes. I've got this inkling that November 29th was a favored day in heaven. On this date, C.S. Lewis, Louisa May Alcott and Madeline L'Engle were birthed. That's a lot of genius to be giving out at once, even for God. And a lot of genius in the imagination of children's literature too. It's like it wasn't given out all at once. All of them, most known for the work as a children's author with the ability to transcend the genre to appeal across generations at once.

It was like literature won the lottery that day. Or that there was an overstock, one-day sale on genius. Maybe it's Christmas on November 29th in Heaven. Or would they have Christmas?

Either way, today's greatness happens in threes.

UPDATE:

NOVEMBER 30TH: BIRTHDAYS OF MARK TWAIN AND JONATHAN SWIFT (GULLIVER'S TRAVELS). SERIOUSLY... MAYBE I'M THE ONLY ONE FASCINATED BY THIS.

UPDATE:

PROBABLY.

The Paradox Of Winning

Much has been said about the current success of Boston sports teams over the past month. In fact, Sunday marked the last time a Boston sports team (not counting the woeful B's) had lost in the past month(Cleveland beat Boston on Oct. 16th). This time it was the Celtics. Who barely lost. In a game I watched on NBA TV because I have it. Yes. I'm that special. I actually prefer the Celtics over the Patriots. For that reason I missed the first two Pats scores against the Bills.

And what I did watch of the Patriots game was nothing short of masterful. It wasn't that the Bills looked bad. The Patriots looked so good to make a team they were playing not look bad and instead make themselves look even better. The Mrs keeps asking how I can watch the Pats game with the scores so out-of-hand. Because it's beautiful. I've never seen such precision and execution on the football field. It's like watching Beckett work in a playoff game. The opposing batters just don't have a shot because he is that good. The Patriots are just that good.

I likened it yesterday morning to an old SportsCenter commercial.


We are the Holyfield of the NFL.

But it's a long season. So let's not get ahead of ourselves.

As per the punditry that revolves around these landslide victories, it's nice to be the villian. To be the hated team. And it's nice to know and realize this is the case only because we are winning so easily. We are not overpaying players. The organization does things the right way. Forget SpyGate. We're 10 weeks removed from that. It's over. Move beyond it. The only reason we are hated as a team is because the Patriots win and win so very very well.

I love paradoxes.

This may or may not be one.

A Day For The Birds

So let's get today straight. The Homerun king gets indicted on perjury charges. Indicted. Not convicted. Indicted. And the media goes ape over this. Did I mention he's a baseball player? Well, he is. Meanwhile, a president gets convicted of perjury and it's supposed to be no big deal?

Then there's the whopping $270+ million contract the Yankees are paying someone to not help them win a World Series.
Then, the writers are on strike because the same companies that sue online outlets for $1 billion, i.e. YouTube, for posting and making money off of their online content tell the same writers that they have no way of knowing how much money online content is worth.

The governor of Ohio (and fellow Asbury alum and soon-to-be-Clinton-VP-running-mate) thinks we should do away with the electoral college system and just have a popular vote. In his defense, the electoral college system is no way to elect a prom king or queen. To think that history classes should have as much say as the cheerleaders, the nerve.

Then there's also this guy. Fascinating medical story. But some things you can't un-see.

To quote Tracy Morgan from tonight's 30 Rock that accurately sums up this day: "Stop eating old french fries pigeon. Have some self-respect. Don't you know you can fly?"

A Good Man Found On The Edge Of Town

I stumbled across a very interesting association between my favorite fiction writer and my favorite musician. It's a connection I never supposed or suspected, so you can expect my surprise when I discovered that Bruce Springsteen has been heavily influenced by Flannery O'Connor.

I did some more digging, finding that he was most influenced shortly before the Nebraska album. Which, if you know the album, figures. The final line of title track borrows right from O'Connor, "Sir, I guess there's just meanness in the world." He even penned a song for the epic Tracks album in 1998 called "A Good Man is Hard to Find" and captured the essence of the story fantastically.

Springsteen says it's her characters that intrigue them the most. How they are broken, shattered, imperfect and ultimately redemptive. Listening to that album, Tom Joad and Devils and Dust, you see the same dirty and dusty and grotesque characters searching for their "own piece of the cross."

That the connection was obvious was not what floored me. What got me was the roots of the connection itself. The Mrs, not much of a Springsteen fan aside from The Rising and a couple of live tracks, was also surprised to learn of the connection. And, as always, she summed it up adeptly: "You shouldn't be surprised. It just shows you're consistent in what you like." I love O'Connor's work for the exact same reasons I love Springsteen's work: Rich imagery compounded by the actual facts of the world and an attempt to redeem a little piece of it.

Suffice to say I've gone back through the albums I have and listened to them again. Unfortunately, I don't have the entire Nebraska or Joad albums, but the tracks I have make me feel like I'm in Andalusia, sitting next to O'Connor, with Springsteen spewing out throaty melodies on an old guitar. Give Springsteen credit, he's not just a political mouthed musician who plays in a cool band with a cool name and had a few hits. He's a brilliant writer. And that he was affected by O'Connor and not merely effected rises up in his body of work.

Meanwhile, reading O'Connor and listening to Springsteen at once is not possible. It's like being in the exact same place at the exact same time and trying to do something entirely different.

Because Of That One Dentist

It's been brought to my attention that they've stopped selling Mentadent at Giant Eagle. Seeing as how that's where the Mrs shops, seems I'm out of luck. I've used the brand for more than a decade. I despise other brands. It's one of the things I dread about traveling: having to use different toothpastes.

See I'm awfully sensitive about teeth in that I cringe and convulse in conversations about cavities, wisdom teeth, tooth pain. Most notably, I can't even listen to another person brush their teeth. Not my wife. Not my college roommates. Not on T.V. Not in the movies (remember the scene from Stranger Than Fiction? I almost had to leave the theater). Do not expect to have a conversation with my whilst brushing. In fact, expect me to leave and find a place where I can cover my ears and not have to hear you brushing your teeth.

So now I don't have the toothpaste I've used for the past 12 years? Crisis.

And let's just leave it at that.

It's That Time Of Year

It's November. The time when I historically come down with something. Last year it was pneumonia and a trip to the hospital. This year, a wonderful GI bug given to me by my loving son. That's right, Isaac has been sick for the past few days -- his first illness. And as he came out of the woods yesterday -- i.e. no fever and a cessation of the vomiting -- the Mrs and I decided to stroll through the woods ourselves -- i.e we got sick. Isaac, much to the chagrin of the Mrs, was given the nickname Poopy McPoopsalot. Yesterday, in the vein of too much information, he became Poopy McPoopsalot Jr. And by a lot, just to clarify, I mean a lot.

A friend recently emailed me wondering why I hadn't shared anything about the Pats and the Celtics run over the weekend. Truth is, because of what happened over the weekend and then this week, I've done gone completely sapped. Like a Vermont Maple Tree sapped.

Anyway, the energy is slowly returning. So expect more posts here in the coming days. Especially on the Celtics. Man, they look good. Unfortunately, as much a Celtics fan as I am, there's been no real desire to make an effort to watch them on T.V. over the past few years. The quality of basketball was just plain horrible. So I stuck to the box scores, blogs and articles on them. All this to justify my now writing more about them. I also had to use a more formal argument to explain to the Mrs. why basketball ranks above football on my list of favorite sports to watch. Evidence #1: My DVDs of the Basketball Jesus and The Celtics history complete with about 10 full games I own. NOTE: This are the only DVDs I even own.

So yes, I'm excited about the Celtics. Very. Very. Excited. And the Pats are good too. Their next four games will be on TV here in the capital city... so that's good.

The Misadventures Of Isaac

So I was prepared for this, one of the inevitabilities of having a boy. Only I wasn't ready for it to happen so early. But on Saturday, Isaac broke his leg. It happened while I was walking down the stairs. I tripped and fell, landing hard on the steps. I was holding Isaac and I didn't drop him, the only visible injury we could discern was a bump on the head from where we banged into the wall and the emotional injury of scaring the bejesus out of him: I yelled, the Mrs. came running in with a yelp of her own. He was consoled and slept for a couple of hours afterwards.

But later in the afternoon, I noticed, while he was pulling himself to stand, he was doing it awkwardly - favoring the left side and screaming like he was in pain. So we went to the Children's Hospital in town where they told us Isaac had a broken leg.

He's doing well, already adapting to the large blue cast on his left leg. He's figured out how to crawl as normal and has even taken to pulling himself back up to a standing position -- which isn't permissible given the injury. And all accounts point to him making a full recovery with no long term effects.

Kids are amazing. How they adapt, how they learn so very quickly.