Best Super Bowl ever?

Maybe not. There's certainly competition. For me, the iconic one will always be III, Jets versus Baltimore Colts, which I watched with five or six other guys in a law school dorm neighbor's room. As soon as the score was final, our host jumped up and turned off the TV. Asked why, he said, "I don't want to hear Howard Cosell say, 'Broadway Joe Namath, the New York Jets, and the American Football League all came of age today.'"

Still, this one had about as exciting a finish as could be imagined. There's great running commentary on the Wall Street Journal's Super Blog.

This Keystone State native can take some satisfaction in the football and baseball championships both residing in Pennsylvania for the first time since 1980.

Oh, yeah, my prediction (see immediately previous post) was wrong. I've gotten into this thing of calling upsets I don't want, in hopes that by doing so I'll prevent them.

Smoothron, who trusted in Jesus, was wrong, too.

The comfort of the hot stove, and my Super Bowl prediction.

I left Tampa yesterday, just ahead of Super Bowl insanity. Back in chilly Brooklyn this morning, I was delighted to find, tucked on page three of the New York Times sports section, a column by veteran scribe George Vecsey with the title "Baseball Provides Warmth in Winter". In it, Vecsey recounts his recent conversation with former Phillies pitchers Robin Roberts and Larry Christenson. Roberts, a Hall of Famer who pitched in the Majors from the late 1940s to the mid 1960s had this observation:

Roberts thinks everybody overthinks pitching today. Teams get a youngster with a live arm, and they mess with his delivery and they mess with his mind, producing the insecure six-inning nibblers we see most days.

To this I say, "Amen", and add a "Hallelujah!" to Vecsey's succeeding paragraph:

Serene smiles came over the two right-handers as they recalled their own home runs, back when both leagues played the authentic version of baseball, before the ghastly designated-hitter rule. There were giants in those days. Roberts knew, right off the top of his head, that Wes Ferrell leads the pitchers' list with 38 homers (one as a pinch hitter), followed by Bob Lemon with 37, Warren Spahn with 35, Red Ruffing with 34, Earl Wilson with 33 and Don Drysdale with 29.

Oh, yes. That game tomorrow. As a Pennsylvania native, I want the Steelers to win. But something in my bones says it's the Cardinals' day, and that the Kurt Warner Canonization Campaign will get a big boost from a widely witnessed miracle.

O Florida, venereal soil (take 2).

By South Dale Mabry Highway, Tampa, January 29, 2009 (once again, apologies to Wallace Stevens).

Obligatory post-inaugural post.

I wanted something more. I wanted that deathless sound bite; that "Ask not what your country can do for you...", that "nothing to fear but fear itself." Nowhere in the speech, which was in my estimation an excellent one, was there anything that seemed to me to reach such a height. This was a speech characteristic of a former president of what has become a temple to the memory of Aleksei Stakhanov, the Harvard Law Review. As he spoke, I could imagine in the background the strains of that great hymn "Come, Labor On".

The speech posed a challenge. The new President said we were in a bad way, and that the only way out was through hard work. Come to think of it, that's just another way of saying, "Ask not what your country can do for you... ."

Update: Blue Texan finds a memorable quote, and makes a point with which I emphatically agree: the speech was anything but non- or post-partisan.

Andrew Wyeth, 1917-2009

The summer before last, we visited the Farnsworth Art Museum and Wyeth Center in Rockland, Maine. I'm afraid I'd succumbed to what I considered a highbrow prejudice against Wyeth as, at best, a very talented reactionary. Seeing his work up close quickly dispelled that notion. One painting, an interior scene in an old house as I recall, he described (according to the panel accompanying it) as "very abstract". How true.

Wyeth died today at the age of 91. The video above was made on his 80th birthday. In it, he touches on what is meant by "abstraction."

Take a walk with me.

Walking the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn to Manhattan, from the Cadman Plaza entrance to the East Tower, Tuesday morning, January 13, 2009.

The strange persistence of the Spitzer tie.

You might well think that a distinctive and prominent item of clothing worn by a disgraced politician in the very moment of his public humiliation would instantly lose its appeal. When I saw the now ex-Governor on TV confessing his indiscretion, I thought he was bringing to an end the long time popularity (at least since I was in college, which was just over forty years ago) of a particular rep stripe patterned cravat. Such a tie, I was convinced, would be indelibly stained by its association with infamy and self-destruction.


Evidently not, as witness this window display at Brooks Brothers' flagship Madison Avenue store today.

The Gators have become boring.

They've won the BCS title for the second time in three years, again holding a team many pundits (though this time not the bettors) thought an unstoppable scoring machine to a mere two TDs. Is this enough to silence that portion of the commentatoriate that, every year, finds some reason to declare SEC teams inferior to the Big 10, Pac 10, Big 12, whatever is the flavor of the moment? Probably not.

But, for me, the Gators have committed the unforgivable transgression: they're no longer underdogs.

Fortunately for me, now there's USF football.

Update: Maybe this year's better-than-the-SEC flavor will be the Mountain West.

A song for our times?

Uncle Tupelo at The Lounge Ax, Chicago, November 8, 1992 (thanks to Pants Elderly).

New Year's thank-yous.

I'm a little late with this, but I trust you'll forgive me. Last year at this time I posted a thank-you to everyone I could think of who had, in some way, supported this blog during the previous year. I am now repeating all those thank-yous (so, if you didn't follow the link, please go back, click, and read the linked post) because you all deserve a second round of recognition.

I also need to add some new friends who've been very helpful during 2008 and, I'm sure, will continue to be: Chrissie Brodigan; David Castillo of Blue Barn Pictures; and Eleanor Traubman of Creative Times, one of the principals behind Brooklyn Blogade.

I'd also like to give repeated and special thanks to those of you who've regularly commented on my posts: Archaeopteryx, Brooklyn Beat, Joe Martini, The Lady of a Thousand Nics (even though, for some inexplicable reason, she's yet to add S-AB to her blogroll), Rob Lenihan, The Lone Beader, Sometimes Saintly Nick, and Twiffer (and, of course, Anonymous, whoever s/he may be).

Special thanks for productive links from New York Times City Room, Fucked in Park Slope, and New York Shitty. A blog should be known by the company it keeps.

Hepzibah the acrophile.

Something in her little feline brain encodes a military maxim: Take the high ground.

Aboard Amtrak's Adirondack, with an R&B soundtrack.

Riding south from Plattsburgh to New York City on Amtrak's Adirondack last Sunday, I was in the rear coach, and noticed a couple standing at the back end of the car. He was using his camera to take a video through the rear window as the train rolled along. I was inspired to do the same, and shot this just south of Westport, New York.



As I was shooting, my iPod played Arthur Alexander's "You Better Move On", which, given that the train had left Plattsburgh about half an hour late, seemed appropriate.


As we continued southward along the shore of Lake Champlain, I heard this rare Dolly Lyon gem from 1957:

The song's steady rhythm melded well with the tempo of the train's motion, and Ms. Lyon's rich alto voice complemented the Champlain scenery. Thanks to northern soul stalwart cadlagh1 for the clip.

When we stopped at Whitehall, New York, improbable birthplace of the U.S. Navy (my wife, a Massachusetts native, strongly disputes this claim), I decided to shoot another video from the rear window as we departed the station and proceeded through the town.



As we continued southward toward Fort Edward, the iPod carried me back to my law school days with Robert Knight's "Everlasting Love":



A tip of the hat to davepinch1 for the video. South of Fort Edward, we picked up speed as we traversed the flat woodland between the Hudson River and Saratoga Springs. Looking out the window next to my seat, I saw the sky turning magenta. I aimed my camera through the window, but shortly after I pushed the button we passed a stick of freight cars, parked on a siding, that obscured the view. Once past the cars, the sky reappeared, with trees flashing by.



While the train was stopped at the Saratoga station, the iPod played "You Can't Sit Down", a 1963 hit by the Dovells, here capably covered by The Look in a 1982 MTV video posted on YouTube by that group's Dave Edwards:



The Amtrak crew was successful in making up lost time, so we arrived in Albany slightly ahead of schedule, and had almost forty minutes wait time at the Albany/Rensselaer Station. I decided to stretch my legs on the platform; while there, I saw Amtrak train 291, the northbound Ethan Allen Express, on its way from Washington, D.C. to Rutland, Vermont, arriving on schedule at 5:50 P.M.

Happy New Year!

These fireworks are from New Year's 2007, taken from the roof of my building.

Here's wishing everyone a happy, healthy, and (may I be so bold?) prosperous 2009.

Sampling the Saranac "beers of winter".

Continuing a tradition I began this time last year with the Sam Adams Brewmaster's Collection, this year I got the Saranac "Twelve Beers of Winter", a case of two bottles each of six brews thought appropriate to the season. The Saranac range of beers and ales is made by the Matt Brewing Company of Utica, New York. Matt operates what is now the oldest contrinuously used brewery in New York State. I first became familiar with Matt's products back in the 1970s, when I began to frequent the Lion's Head, where the staple draft beer at the time was Utica Club. Some years ago, Matt retired "UC", a typical but well-made mass-market lager, as its flagship brand, and turned to craft brewing. For a time, they made "local" craft brews (including my home favorite, Brooklyn Lager, until Brooklyn Brewery had its own plant) under contract. (Update/correction: I checked the labels on some Brooklyn Brewery bottles this evening, and found they still bear the message, "Brooklyn Brewery, Utica, NY." This means they're still being made at Matt's brewery. Perhaps it's only the kegs of draft that are being made here in Brooklyn.) They later adopted the name "Saranac" (after a lake in the High Peaks region of the Adirondack Mountains, just over 100 miles northeast of Utica) for their own line of premium brews.

This year's winter lineup includes:

Bohemian Pilsner. The Pilsner style is popular in this country because it is light, crisp, and takes well to refrigeration. Saranac's version is close to my Platonic ideal of Pilsner: definite, but not overpowering, barley toastiness balanced by tart, slightly astringent, but not too bitter, hops. It proved a good companion to pizza.

Belgian Ale. I've not been a great fan of Belgian ales, perhaps because, as an oenophile, I prefer fruit in vinous form (though I have a weakness for Berliner weisse mit schuss; a pale, almost sparkling wine-like wheat beer with a dollop of raspberry syrup). This low country-style charmer, though, won me over by having a tart, cinnamon-y opening that brought to mind my wife's excellent apple pie, and a subtle malty finish. It stood up well to Newman's Own hot chunky salsa on white corn chips.

Extra Special Bitter ("ESB"). Evidently, the makers of Fuller's ESB haven't trademarked the initials, which stand for "Extra Strong Bitter" or "Extra Special Bitter", depending on which side of the Atlantic you're on. In any event, "ESB" is prominent on the wrapper over the neck of this ale's bottle. Saranac's version isn't as complex or interesting as its British cousin, but still a well-balanced and satisfying ale.

India Brown Ale. I have a weakness for India pale ales, or IPAs, which began for me years ago with the version, sadly no longer made, by Ballantine. I like IPA's robust hoppiness--its name, as I recall, came from its being made to withstand a long, hot sea voyage to India; the hops, I suppose, acting as a preservative. Saranac's "India Brown", as the name implies, is darker in color than IPA, being brewed with malts that are, according to the Saranac website, "decoction mashed to highlight their character...". The result is a rather busy brew, with tart hops and savory malt both performing their virtuoso acts on the tongue. Not at all unpleasant, but I still prefer IPA.

Vanilla Stout. I was prepared to be mildly disappointed by this, as I was by last year's dark-brew-plus-confection, the Sam Adams Honey Porter. To begin, "stout" to me means Guinness; all others so far have been mere pretenders. Then there's my prejudice against added flavorings, even "natural" ones. My first taste confirmed that this is not Guinness; the hops are much more assertive and the malt heavier, less mocha-y. My first thought was, "Where's the vanilla in all this?" Then, after a swallow and a breath intake, it showed itself, coyly and not cloyingly. It's subtle, and it works. The website suggests having it with dark chocolate or fruit desserts. As luck would have it, on the same shopping expedition that yielded the Saranac I also scored a Terry's dark chocolate orange. Seemed like a way to kill two birds with one stone. Tried it; didn't get a trip to Nirvana, but it was pleasant.

Season's Best. This year's model of Saranac's annual special holiday brew is described as a "Vienna-style lager." I've never been to Vienna, but if this is typical of their beer, it may be worth a visit (that, and the opportunity to walk the same streets as Mozart, Beethoven, Freud, and Wittgenstein). Hops open strong here, but malt asserts itself at the finish. In between, there's a delightful frissance. Goes well with the chocolate orange, too.

Eartha Kitt

All I can say is, a bit of my childhood has gone. As I posted before, and will repost below for your convenience, Ms Kitt's Uska Dara was an indelible memory from age seven:

When I was about seven, and we were living in rural Hertfordshire, England, one afternoon my mother and I were listening to BBC radio when the disc jockey said, "And now, here's some Turkish music." What followed was a tune so hooky that it remained caught in my memory until some thirty or so years later when Mike McGovern, a New York Daily News writer who later became known as Kinky Friedman's sidekick in the Kinkster's detective novels, invited several of us who had closed down the Lion's Head to come to his place for a nightcap. He poured us each some whiskey, then put an Eartha Kitt album on his turntable. After a couple of cuts, I was amazed to hear the same exotic tune that had so captivated me as a child. Judge it for yourself here:

Season's Greetings

Tomorrow morning I am off to the very edge of the Great Frozen North, to the banks of the mighty St. Lawrence, there to celebrate Christmas. My opportunities for posting from that location may be few or none, so I leave you for now with warmest greetings of the season, and a scene of carolers gathered by the tree at the entrance to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade.

Nick Reynolds, 1933-2008

Once again, as with another former Kingston Trio member, John Stewart, sad news has come to me late. The death of Nick Reynolds at 75 leaves Bob Shane the only surviving member of the Trio from its heyday. (I'll always remember Bob looking out at an audience that included me about ten years ago and saying, "God, but you all look old.")

Here's the original lineup of the Trio doing "MTA", a song that was a big hit when I was in seventh grade. Nick is the short guy in the middle playing the little four-string tenor guitar; Dave Guard is on banjo and Bob Shane on six-string guitar:



This has been a tough year for the folk music generation of the 1950s and '60s, considering also the deaths of Erik Darling (born the same year as Nick), Miriam Makeba, and Odetta.

12/18 update: Sadly, today I learned of an addition to the roster: British acoustic guitar legend Davy Graham.

Mets' bullpen woes over?

A couple of days ago the Mets acquired off free agency arguably the best closer in the Majors, Francisco Rodriguez (I resist calling him "K-Rod" for the same reasons Lisa Swan gives in Subway Squawkers: (1) it's an obvious ripoff of the nickname of a certain Yankee; and (2) his first name is not "Krancisco"). This filled the need arising from the injury to Billy Wagner, but didn't address the greater problem of the unreliability of the Mets' middle relievers last season, especially Aaron Heilman. Yesterday they announced a three way deal with the Mariners and Indians that, among other things, sent Heilman to Seattle and former Mariners' closer J.J. Putz (yes, he'll need a thick skin in Noo Yawk) to the Mets. As Jesse Spector "putz" it in Touching Base, "this trade...gives the Mets quite possibly the most fearsome bullpen in the National League. (They had that this year, but now it's fearsome to opponents instead of their own fans.)"

Whenever the Mets do a multi-player trade, there's always at least one that I regret their losing. In this deal, it's Endy Chávez. He's the kind of journeyman player that I admire because, despite his mediocre batting average that offsets above average fielding skills, I can't forget the occasional spectacular catch or clutch hit. I also like that he has a brother named Ender, who played for a season with my beloved Brooklyn Cyclones. What is it with Venezuelans--remember the Alfonso brothers, Edgardo and Edgar?

12/15 Update: MSNBC's First Read calls Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich "F-Rod".

Fresh Air Fund needs your help this holiday season.

This time of year is when we all get lots of appeals for money. This year is a particularly bad year for many. We have to decide who or what to support, and in what amount. I'm making this appeal for you to consider the Fresh Air Fund, which gives inner city kids an opportunity, for a couple of weeks in the summer, to savor country life and have some experiences they couldn't otherwise enjoy. A donation now will help FAF establish next summer's program, is greatly needed, and will be deeply appreciated. Also, if you have a country or permanent house in a rural area in the Northeast, please consider hosting a child next summer. It's a way to go beyond the giving of money, and to experience firsthand the fruit of your generosity. Please visit FAF's website here.

Chanukah on the Chisholm Trail.

Captain Smartypants and the boys do a little country 'n' eastern, working in a tradition begun by the great Kinkster (caution--lyrics of Kinky's song below are NSFW):


A tip o' the hat to Andy Bachenheimer.

College football: Gator-Sooner showdown.

I was tempted to predict that the Tide would roll over Florida in the SEC championship game this weekend, but with fresh memory of my last prognostication failure, I was fortunate by being reticent. Now I feel the same temptation concerning the BCS championship game against Oklahoma, a team I've never much liked. But I had the same misgivings concerning the Gators in their championship matchup with Ohio State a couple of years ago, and was proved wrong. I used to have an uncanny sense of when Florida was going to go flat, but they seem to have lost their once unfailing ability to break their fans' hearts. Even their one loss this season, to Ole Miss, seems less embarassing now that the Rebels have cracked the top 25 in the BCS rankings.

The Gators are number one and the Sooners second in the AP poll, while their positions are reversed in the USA Today coaches' poll. Does this mean that Bob Stoops is now more popular with fellow coaches, or Urban Meyer less so?

Another sign of a long, cold winter?

Perhaps it's just my imagination, but the local squirrels seem to be putting on weight above and beyond the norm this year. I spotted this one chomping on what appeared to be a bagel remnant scavenged from a trash can at the corner of Montague Terrace and Remsen Street, in Brooklyn Heights, yesterday morning.

Take a look at the sky this evening.

Shortly after sunset this evening, those of you afforded with clear skies (the forecast for the New York area is favorable) can see a conjunction of the moon, Jupiter and Venus in the western sky (see here). Viewers in Europe will be treated to an occultation of Venus, i.e. the moon will pass in front of the brightest planet.

A fearless prediction: FSU 33, Florida 28

Why? The Gators are 10-1, second in the BCS ranking, and expected both to win the SEC and play Texas for the national championship. The 'Noles are 8-3, ranked 23rd in the AP poll, and could play in a BCS bowl provided they win the ACC championship. Trust me, this situation is custom-made for an upset. Look for State to take an early lead, then find ways to contain Harvin and disorient Tebow long enough to withstand a late Gator rally.

Shame-faced 11/29 update: It looks like I've lost my touch. I used to be able to see clearly when a Gator upset was coming, and when it wasn't.

For what it's worth, I'm glad I was wrong.

Tuck in!

Whether you're having traditional turkey, vegetarian or vegan alternative, or spaghetti carbonara, Calvin Trillin's favorite Thanksgiving dish, enjoy!

(Photo taken at about 2:30 P.M., November 26, 2008, at Trader Joe's, Atlantic Avenue and Court Street, Brooklyn.)

Planxty: "Sally Brown" and "The Frost is All Over".

Planxty was, along with the Bothy Band (see also here), one of my favorite traditional Irish groups. I never saw any version of the whole group perform live, though I did see Paul Brady and Andy Irvine, sort of a rump Planxty, at Town Hall in the early 1980s, and, since my date knew them, got to meet them backstage. In the late 80s I saw Andy performing solo at the Eagle Tavern, and, since my date (not the same one as at Town Hall) knew him, got to have a beer with him after.

Some time ago I posted a YouTube clip of Planxty doing "The Jolly Beggar". Unfortunately, that clip is no longer available, but I've found another of the same 1980 lineup: Donal Lunny on bouzouki (a Greek instrument which Andy, following Johnny Moynihan, championed the use of in Irish music), Andy Irvine on mandolin and lead vocal, Liam O'Flynn on Uilleann pipes, and Christy Moore (who introduces the song) on guitar, doing a sea chantey, "Sally Brown", first made popular by Sweeney's Men:



I also found a clip of a different, 1974, lineup, with Irvine, Moore (who here plays bodhran), O'Flynn, Paul Brady on guitar, and Johnny Moynihan on fiddle and lead vocal, doing one of my favorite Planxty numbers, "The Frost is All Over":

QE2 arrives at her final berth.

Forty years to the day from the beginning of her maiden voyage, Cunard's magnificent Queen Elizabeth 2 (photo above from her penultimate visit to New York, last January) docked today at Dubai, United Arab Emirates. There she will remain as a floating luxury hotel.

The story and photographs of her arrival are in today's Khaleej Times. I'm sad to learn that her towering red and black funnel will be removed to make way for a "four-story penthouse"; but glad of that which will be preserved, including some of her best-loved interior spaces.

Blog links: I'll take 'em where I can get 'em.

I'm thrilled to have gotten a blogroll link from Fucked in Park Slope, even though it's Heights, not Slope, strollers I have to dodge in my quotidian rounds.

And, yeah, it wasn't so long ago I was pushing one, myself.

Call me breeder.

I love Cajun music: D.L. Menard, Marc Savoy and L'Angelus

A couple of months ago I posted with a link to a YouTube clip of the venerable Cajun vocalist and guitarist D.L. Menard doing his signature song, La Porte d'en Arrière ("The Back Door"). Unfortunately, that clip has now been removed from YouTube, so I've found another (see above) of D.L. doing the same song, accompanied by Marc Savoy on accordion, and by the exciting young group L'Angelus, consisting of four Rees siblings: Katie and Paige on guitar and bass, John on drums, and the youngest (20 as of this past June), Steve, playing very hot fiddle.

Brooklyn gets a visitor from the Great Frozen North.

There's a dock at the Brooklyn Navy Yard that receives crushed rock salt from self-unloading bulk carrier ships. Most of these that call here are of the Norwegian Torvald-Klaveness or German Egon Oldendorff shipping groups. However, a few days ago I spotted (after enlarging my photo enough to read her name off her stern)
Atlantic Superior, of Canada Steamship Lines, docked there.

Atlantic Superior could be considered a new style laker; however, as her name proclaims, she's at home on open ocean as well as the Great Lakes.