Orange Rock the Dome

For the second consecutive game, the Orange came back, from more than ten down in the second half, and beat a quality opponent. All of the Bergs went into Cuse last night, and saw the Orange beat Virginia. That capped a week in which they had beaten a ranked Florida team, a ranked Kansas team, and then a credible ACC team. We woke up this morning to find the Orange fourth in the current RPI, and while it's still early, and while I don't really care that much about the polls, the RPI makes a big difference in March. Plus, with their strength of schedule this year, even when begin to lose Big East games, these early season quality wins will help out.

First half everyone on the team was half asleep, or more likely just tired, playing their third game in five days. I couldn't tell whether the team was just going through the motions, expecting to beat an unranked team at home, after beating two ranked teams on the road; or just worn out, which was the Coach's explanation after the game. Whatever, they played poorly for twenty minutes, turning the ball over 11 times in the first half, shooting poorly, and not getting up on Virginia's shooters. With a couple minutes left in the half, the lead was down to four, but then Virginia went on a little run, and ended up leading by 11 at the break.

Second half was an entirely different story. Team played the man defense, which seemed to have ignited them in the Kansas game. They shut Virginia down, and began chipping away at the lead. Guards started getting into the lane, and they dished to Jackson a couple times for dunks, which he managed to throw down, unlike the layups he was missing in the first half. A Rautins three brought them to within one, and then a second three a minute later gave them a four point lead. If Cuse had hit their foul shots, and if PH hadn't had a dunk blocked (should have used the backboard, for a less showy, but more effective layup), they would have run away with the game. As it was, there was just enough of a cushion to protect the lead, even when Va. hit a couple late shots. Oh, one more thing -- the crowd. It was a holiday weekend, with school on vacation, and no kids in the Dome. Still, 22,000 fans came out on a lousy snowy night, and when the comeback began, the crowd got loud, and the Dome was rockin.

So now we have games against Colgate and Cornell, before ten days off, and some time to rest. Enough guys are hitting shots when they need to; defense is playing good enough for stretches, even if not for forty minutes; and after a tough early season schedule, Cuse is 6-0, and is sure to be ranked come Monday. Go Orange.

Road Trip

Cuse traveled to Kansas City this week, where all the nay-sayers expected disaster to strike. The team had won three early games, against less than stellar competition. Lemoyne? So what? Oakland? Big Deal! And against Richmond, which didn't exactly make it to the Final Four last year, the Orange survived thanks largely to Eric Devo's hot hand; and even with that, they managed only a narrow victory. Still, there were enough encouraging signs that the team had promise, potential. And as always, I remain unable to understand how anyone talks shit on Boeheim or the Orange, after all the excitement they have brought to the Dome, after all the success they have had over the years.

Anyway, as everyone now knows, Cuse went on the road and beat not just two ranked teams, but the NCAA champs for the past three years -- Florida and Kansas.  Perhaps more significantly, they beat Kansas in Kansas City, which apparently hadn't happened in more than two decades. And they accomplished this feat on consecutive nights, before a national TV audience, far away from home, and with Dickie V blabbing incessantly in the background. (That's enough to drive anyone to distraction.) I couldn't hear the end of the game last night, because my computer video link shut off after two hours, but I'm hoping that maybe the two wins either shut him up, or at least got him blabbing about how great Flynn and Harris looked. 

I'm expecting that the tournament win will vault the Orange up into the rankings, perhaps into the top twenty. Not that I minded the fact that the team was previously unranked, and had a chip on its shoulder. This team needs to feel that it has something to prove. It needs to play hard for forty minutes (something we haven't seen the past few years); and it needs to stop making mental mistakes. I don't want to draw unwarranted comparisons too early in the season, but remember how many times the 03 team had to come from behind that year? I recall several games where they were a dozen or so points behind, sometimes deep in the second half. So it's a good thing to see the team struggle, but then come out on top.

 And as long we're drafting our wish list here, they also need to hit threes. Onuaku was a beast during this tournament, but Big East teams will collapse around him; besides which, there will be other beasts on the court. And even though AO played strong inside, he needed the threes to open things up. Hit threes, drive the lane, dish for easy inside baskets. That's the recipe for success. If we miss threes, the land gets clogged, and there won't be any spacing inside.

Meanwhile, we've got one more tough game on Friday, against Virginia, before we get a break with Colgate and Cornell. Win or lose against Virginia, beating the Gators and the Jayhawks will help later on, when the tournament selection guys are sitting in some hotel room, and sorting through the at large teams. Big East will be tough this year; it will be a chore to finish above 500 in the conference. So every so-called quality win is important. Go Orange. 

Hope for the New Season

Every sports season opens with hope. It's the season for hope all across the U.S. But is it too audacious to have hopes for a tournament berth in March? Here's a brief update on last night's opening game. It's a mixed review.

The bad news was terrible outside shooting. We went 5 for 24 against a short Lemoyne team, one that really didn't challenge most shots from beyond the arc. If we go 21% against Big East rivals, we aren't going very far this year. That's especially true if we have trouble working the ball inside to AO. AO should have dominated last night's game, but he really wasn't much of a factor. In addition, we had far too many unforced turnovers. It's easy to excuse sloppy play early in the season, as everyone is still rusty, but if we're throwing the ball away against Lemoyne, which really didn't pressure us much at all, what will happen against Memphis, or Virginia, or Pitt? And KO continues to make mistakes. His defense is more aggressive, but that often manifests itself in silly fouls, and he isn't scoring much at all. I'm thinking he will start most of the year, but play only a dozen or so minutes every game. In fact, if the freshmen come along, KO may ride the pine in 2009.

On the plus side of the ledger, Rautins led the team in assists. He threw the ball away a few times early in the first half, but then began connecting on his passes. Part of Rautins' problem may have been that his passes had so much zip on them, and were rarely telegraphed, while we are so accustomed to receiving softball tosses that are announced over the PA system, so everyone in the Dome knows they're coming. Another bright spot was the play of Rick Jackson, whose defense and rebounding were great. Very active, very aggressive. If he plays well, together with AO, we have 10 fouls to give inside.

The other bright spot was the team's depth. Boeheim used nine players regularly last night; with Rautins, Jackson and the two freshmen off the bench. We lost a few games last year when we simply ran out of gas late, but I don't think anyone will get worn out this year, barring injuries of course. And the two freshmen, Joseph and Jones, who looked pretty good at times, won't be thrown into the fire too soon. The team has a decent rotation without them, so hopefully, they won't feel the same degree of pressure, and won't be looking to make foolish plays just to make something happen.

Of course, beating Lemoyne is indicative of nothing much at all. Let's withhold judgment until next week, when the Orange play some prominent teams in the final rounds of this CBE tournament. Until then we have only unadorned hope, audacious hope, but not much more than that.

Keen's - Round Three - The Knockout

It was late in the evening. The food, the good fellowship, and the many malts we had shared for the past few hours had so dispersed the hate, that there could be no more arguing with Rico. To paraphrase Joe Garigiola, the love was off the Richter Scale. And what better way to enjoy a few more minutes of that good feeling than with the After Dinner Flight. We've all had Keen's After Dinner Flight before; but this group of whiskies is so outstanding, and Keen's prices this flight so accessibly, that it's almost sinful to visit there without partaking of these whiskies to end the evening.

We added one wrinkle, however, because we were uncertain about which Edradour Ballechin appeared on the flight, and even uncertain as to the precise difference between the two malts. So we asked our server to add a fifth glass to the flight, so we could taste the two Edradours side by side. Keen's not only obliged, but when the flight was served, the bar manager came by and spent a few moments with us, to explain the difference, to answer our questions, and really to let us know that he appreciated our extensive sampling of Keen's fine whisky.

Anyway the flight opens with Macallan Cask, which is a big flavored malt, and one of the best values in the Macallan line. But on this night, after the remarkable malts we had already tasted, and next to the other members of the After Dinner Flight, I'm sorry to inform the folks at Macallan, whose whiskies I love, notwithstanding the fact that many of their prices have passed through the stratosphere, and into freakin outer space, that this dram was really the weak sister of the flight. Let's not dwell on that fact.

Instead, let's start with the Laddie. Last time I had the After Dinner Flight, it included Bruichladdich 20, but Keen's has scaled back to the 17, which is understandable, as Bruichladdich is racing along with Macallan to price their whiskies for millionaires. That's too bad really, because Laddie has always been a favorite. And on this night, among all those other fabulous malts, Danny proclaimed the 17 his favorite of the night. "It's the best of the bunch. It has a full, rich flavor; its loaded with fats and oils; but the peat does not take over." I can't quarrel with any part of that review. Bruichladdich is a great label; the 17 is fabulous; and on any other night, it would be the perfect whisky with which to end an evening. But not on this night. And as good as the 17 was, it wasn't my favorite.

So next we had the Talisker 25. Here's the review: "Oh my God!" This Talisker has a forever taste - a finish that never never quits. You could take a sip of Talisker; walk a couple blocks over to Madison Square Garden; watch the Celtics beat the Knicks; and just so long as you didn't have a hot dog, return to Keen's after the game with the taste of the Talisker still in your mouth. And did I mention that it's smooth? So smooth going down, so luxurious in the mouth, that if the Puritans ever tasted this malt, they'd make it illegal. It's that good.

But it still wasn't the favorite of the night - at least not for me. For me the most fun of the night was drinking the two Ballechins side by side. And just for the record here, even though we've already posted about this whisky - Edradour makes a highly peated Highland malt, which it then ages in wine casks. We had No. 1, aged in Burgundy, and No. 2, aged in Madeira. The number one starts out with peat - actually with peat, peat and more peat. I'm talking smoky peaty whisky here, the equal of anything from the islands, minus the brine. But then, after all that peat, the Burgundy finish took over, softening and sweetening the dram. The number two, however, worked backwards. First, we tasted the Madeira finish, a sweet sugar cane character to the whisky that stayed sweet in the mouth, as the peat began to come out. Now how does that happen? How is it that one of these malts starts smoky and ends sweet, and the other one works exactly backwards? It's a mystery. But regardless of how that mysterious phenomenon occurred, my impression remained that the Ballechin No. 2 was as good as anything we tasted that night. I just loved the complex flavors that evolved on my palate as I savored this unique malt. Maybe I'm making too much of a big deal about this, and maybe by the time I tasted the Ballechins, my judgment had been impaired by the dozen or so malts we had already drunk. Who knows? And really, who cares?

All I want to know is this - when do we get to go back for more?

Keen's - Round Two

Picture this: all the haters were sitting around a table in the back of Keen’s. We had just finished a glorious dinner, which had been highlighted by two gigantic porterhouse steaks, each steak purportedly portioned for three people, but in reality, about big enough to feed six. We had two of them. And those two steaks went with two bottles of California cabernet, two heaping plates of fries, and a couple other sides. All that had all been preceded by Keen’s big raw bar platter. So maybe you get the impression that we were, by the time the steaks had been cleared away, rather well sated. Oh, did I mention that some of us even ate dessert?

In any event, sated or not, we were ready to enjoy some after dinner malts. In truth, there really isn’t such a thing as an after dinner scotch, but in my experience, some tastes are so strong that they overpower the palate before a meal. I think of the peatier island malts as those kinds of whiskies. Plus, it only makes sense to move in the direction of quality. I think it has something to do with the second law of thermodynamics, but really, would you want to drink Talisker 25 at the start of the evening? And if you did that, would you really enjoy an Edradour 10 a couple hours later? I think you get my point.

We ordered the Great Scott’s flight – four whiskies, each one from a different region. Here’s the lineup: Bladnoch 20; Glen Grant 26, North of Scotland 40, and Port Ellen 21. Lowland, Speyside, Highland, Islay.

The Bladnoch 20 was flowery, spicy and reminiscent of Rosebank. Joe gave John and me a taste of Bladnoch one time at Federal, and we loved it, but were disappointed to discover that this is yet another marvelous lowland distillery which had been closed. However, the good news, according to Jackson, is that the distillery has reopened in the new millennium, and so will soon be producing that distinctively light but flavorful lowland malt that we’ve come to appreciate. I actually think a lowland is best before dinner – like the Rosebank we had enjoyed in the bar earlier that night. But this Bladnoch had enough flavor to impress us even after a dinner of steak and red wine. John’s call: “A knockout!” I can’t argue. Jackson is not a huge fan of lowlands, but Jim Murray rates several Bladnoch offerings in the low 90s. I can’t argue with that either.

Glen Grant is the backbone of Chivas, and so one would expect a smooth whisky without such strong flavors that they might intimidate the larger scotch purchasing public. We sampled a 26 year old bottling, and the various reviews included, woody, honey, iodine (I didn’t get much iodine), chamomile, and oak. This was a fine whisky, but I think the general sense was that it was undistinguished. Certainly, in the company of the magnificent malts we drank at the Haters Ball, the Glen Grant did not stand out. But its smooth character and long finish told us that it was an enjoyable drink.

North of Scotland, 40 years old. For starters, not one of us had ever heard about this whisky. Jackson makes no reference to it, in his guide to single malt scotch. But as it turns out, that’s because North of Scotland is not a malt whisky, it’s a grain whisky. The collective palate at the Haters Ball could detect that difference right away. We thought it was a rye; maybe I thought it was a rye. Rico went to the bar afterward and learned it’s made from wheat. I found a reference to it in Jim Murray, under single grain scotch. Murray likes it, and here’s a quote that seems to be consistent with our tasting: “begins in a bourbon sweetness, then dries toward very old Canadian.” That’s the rye flavor. Our notes show references to vanilla, citrus and caramel, but we also recognized two distinctive and most enjoyable characteristics. First was a long finish, as one would expect from a forty-year-old whisky. Second was a silky texture on the tongue; Danny thought in that respect, it reminded him of the older Bunnahabhains. So putting that all together, it’s like a sweet Canadian whisky, buttery and rich, long finished. And I regret to advise all the haters that this is yet another whisky which is fast disappearing from view. The distillery stopped producing in 1980, and was dismantled in 1993. That’s perhaps why we were drinking such an ancient bottling at the Ball. Oh well, better to drink it now, while there are still a few drops to be found, than to read about it after it’s gone, and never have had the chance to taste.

Which brings us to the gem of the evening, to quote Joe Howell from Federal, Port Ellen 21 – cask strength. I think I’ll just let the notes speak for themselves: “enormously flavorful”, “wonderful aftertaste”, “deceptively smooth”, and my favorite review of the night, although I can no longer recall who said it: “an orgiastic feast for the senses”. Here’s the other thing I want to point out – we drank four fabulous malts on one flight. Two were from distilleries long closed – and therefore, two were whiskies which might not be around by the time of the next Haters Ball. All four were outstanding; and Keen’s price for the flight was really quite modest. I know it’s not the price that matters, and I know we went there for the Haters Ball, but when it comes to malt whisky, Keen’s is really all about the love. Love of good whisky.

Oh, and by the way, we weren’t done yet. There was the After Dinner Flight as well. But that will have to await my final posting about the Haters Ball.

Keen's - Round One

We arrived for the Haters Ball around 5:30, having parked on 38th street, and then walked down Sixth Avenue past the aptly named Hater Building. When we entered the bar at Keen's, Danny was sitting down at the end, already enjoying the first pour of the evening. That was a Caol Ila 15, some private bottling that I can't remember much about. Danny needs to fill us in on the details, but the point was, the evening was underway.

G-Man and I asked for a listing, which always requires about fifteen minutes just to skim through. Keen's arranges its listings by region - Highlands, Speysides, Islay malts, other Islands, and so forth, which is really useful because how could one possibly make a choice from 275 selections? At least this way, we could figure, OK, let's start with a nice Highland before dinner. And after a few minutes we settled on Edradour 10. Edradour is a tiny highland distillery, which is now making the heavily peated Ballechin malts, aged in wine casks. We knew about Ballechin because it appears on the after-dinner flight (Round Three), but had never before tasted the 10. I know we liked it, although I can no longer describe it with any specificity other than to say it's better than Jackson's review (79), closer to the rating given by Jim Murray's Whisky Bible (86). Murray describes it as charmingly heathery, but I have absolutely no idea what that means. Here's what I do recall: after the bartender poured our drink, he looked at the almost empty bottle, and decided that there was not another pour left. So instead, he just addedthe rest to our pour, giving us an especially generous glass of Edradour for under $10. Mind you we were in Manhattan, where cranberry and seltzer often runs close to ten dollars. So a huge pour of a nice highland malt for under ten? Are you kidding me?

Next up, we tasted Jura 16. I suggested Jura, because I'd tasted the ten a couple weeks earlier at my friend Tony's house, and while unremarkable in many ways, Jura has a secret flavor lurking deep inside. It reminds me in that way of Bunnahabhain, although those two malts don't taste at all alike. What I mean is that each one seems to have a secret ingredient, some spice from Yemen or Morocco that gives the whisky a unique flavor. I can't ever figure these secret flavors out; for example, I'm no good at discerning the lavendar or gooseberry flavors in red wines. All I know is that Jura is distinctive; and the 16 is not at all a bad whisky, even if it was not in the league with the other malts we tasted.

By this time on Saturday, John and Rico had arrived, and that meant only one thing -- Rosebank. Keen's once had two different Rosebanks on the list, but as time has passed, less and less Rosebank remains available, even at an establishment like Keen's. So now they're down to a single offering -- I'm pretty sure its a bottling by Whisky Galore, a 13 year old. Rosebank has a special attraction for everyone in my family, and as always, we loved it. But we were able to love it just a little bit more, because for the second time that night, the bartender gave us the last pour from the bottle, and for the second time that night, it was a very generous pour. So there we were at the bar in Keen's drinking a huge glass of Rosebank, for under $15. A couple blocks away, I'm sure that some kid in his 20s paid more than that for a vodka and tonic, just because he ordered one of those now fashionable brands. That kid should go to Keen's and stop ordering those horseshit vodka drinks.

That was it for before dinner. An Islay malt for Danny; an obscure Island malt for G-Man and me; a Highland whisky, and our favorite lowland, the incomparable Rosebank. And just to put this all in perspective, Susan ordered her french Kiss; Linda had a spectacular bloody Mary (forget what I just said about vodka drinks; this cocktail was sick), and the check was around $75. Meanwhile, as I write this, I'm nursing a glass of HP 12. Once upon a time, I used to fantasize about getting stuck on a tropical island with Kathy Ireland. That was a young man's dream. Today, if I'm going to be stuck on a desert island, I think a few cases of Highland Park, perhaps the 18, oh what the hell, how about the 30? should get washed up on shore with me. A more age appropriate fantasy.

There's No Place Like Keen's

I’ve been meaning to post about the whisky we drank at the Haters Ball; my problem, however, is that there is so much to say, and I haven’t felt as if I’ve had the time. But I’m going to get started on my review, regardless of how many postings it requires, mainly because I want to finish this process while I can still vividly recall how much we enjoyed that night.

First, the overview: as always, we arrived at Keen’s early. What’s the point of visiting this establishment if one can’t spend a fair measure of time in the bar? Admiring the whiskies lined up, six deep behind the bar; chatting whisky with the bartenders, or even with other patrons; lingering over the whisky listing; these are experiences you don’t want to miss. When we arrived, Danny was already enjoying a glass of a private bottling of Caol Ila -- I think it was a fifteen, and I can’t recall if it was cask strength. And honestly, because we drank so many that night, I can’t remember much about this malt, except I do know that we were all impressed with its quality. Beyond that, however, it’s now just a blur. Danny may want to fill us in – that is, if he can remember much of anything.

We drank in the bar for close to an hour, and enjoyed at least four different malts. More on that later. After dinner, we had two separate flights of whisky, so that was another eight malts. Of this dozen, we drank at least six whiskies we’d never before tasted in that particular bottling or age, a couple we’d never even heard of previously, and some that we’ve only tasted either at Keen’s or Federal.

Here’s one example of the extraordinary selection we enjoyed at the Haters Ball. On one of the flights, there was a Port Ellen 26. Now I recall from reading one of Jackson’s books, that Port Ellen was a town on the Island of Islay. But I had to go back to the books to learn that it was also, at one time, a distillery. Like Rosebank, it’s now extinct. It was closed during the eighties, apparently at a time when scotch consumption fell off sharply, perhaps in response to the new popularity of vodka, and all those fruity cocktails that are now termed martinis. Whatever, Port Ellen stopped distilling over 20 years ago, and is available today only in private bottlings.

After the Ball, after we had returned home, I sent Joe an e-mail at Federal, asking if he might have any Port Ellen in stock. I figured Federal was the only place I knew of that would have this delicious and soon-to-be-unavailable Islay malt. Sure enough, Joe had a 29 year old, cask strength, which he described as a ‘Gem’. Unfortunately, it was priced like a gem as well - $400 a bottle. Even though Joe reminded me that the price will only escalate, I took a pass. As much as I enjoyed the Port Ellen, and we’ll eventually get to that, along with all the other after dinner malts, I’m still not spending anything near that kind of money. I mention this detail, however, to highlight the quality of malts we enjoyed at the Ball. And considering Federal’s price, Keen’s is practically giving the stuff away.

Here’s the point – there’s no place quite like Keen’s. We’ve found some other great whisky bars, some of which offer terrific whisky at modest prices. And we’ve found some other pretty fair steakhouses. But there is no place that combines the enormous selection, the knowledgeable staff, the moderate pricing, and the ambiance of Keen’s. In other words, there’s no better place for the Haters Ball.

Check back soon for the details about the dozen or so wonderful whiskies we enjoyed last Saturday.

The Haters Ball

A year ago, G-man and Danny and I sat in the bar at Max’s and conceived The Haters Ball. Chuck had come to Rochester, bringing a bottle of Macallan 17, which was in payment of our 2007 baseball bet, because the Sox had bested the Yankees during the 2007 regular season. As always, Danny was talking shit on the Sox, predicting their demise in 2008, or at least promising that the Yankees would return to superiority. And to back up his talk, Danny suggested we re-up the bet for 2008, with higher stakes. (Always the gambler.) By the end of the evening, it was decided that next year’s stakes would be dinner at Keen’s, with the losers picking up the tab for the winners. Danny and G-man backed the Evil Empire, and John and I got behind the RedSox. The winner is the team with the better regualr season record.

So Saturday night, I was walking down Sixth Avenue, a few feet from the intersection of Sixth and 36th. There on the corner, on the northwest corner of the intersection, in huge letters for everyone to see, was the following inscription carved into the façade of some otherwise inconspicuous building: “THE HATER BUILDING” How perfectly appropriate, as we were standing no more than fifty feet from Keen’s, about to attend the first annual Haters Ball. Now every part of this story is true, but some of those in attendance that night suggested that the inscription really referred to the Haier Building. I don’t think so, first of all because what does that mean? Haier? Who’s ever heard of a Haier? And why would they name a building after such a non-sensical term? Secondly, this was clearly an omen, a sign, an indication that the evening was on for all the haters. Sort of like finding that all the planets were in alignment.

We’ll get to the whisky in another posting, but let’s just say for now that we had an amazing array of malts at the Haters Ball, including three malts from distilleries that have been mothballed for many years. Bladnoch, Rosebank, and Port Ellen – how many more times will we have the chance to imbibe these wonderful malts, whose stock is fast disappearing from the face of the earth? And those huge porterhouse steaks that Keen’s serves; not only were they delicious, but for those of us in the Nation, they were free. How great was that?

Now I know that not all readers of this blog were in attendance, and I want to make it clear that it’s our preference to make the ball inclusive, not exclusive. So other readers should feel free to express their interest. There are a couple requirements. One, everyone needs to declare before spring training starts. We can’t have anyone waiting until the all-star break and then trying to jump on the bandwagon belatedly. After all, haters or not, we’re all honorable people. Two, we need to stay paired up evenly between Yankee fans and Sox fans. Third and finally, we prefer like to keep it within the orbit of friends and family. I know that’s somewhat contrary to the policy of inclusiveness, but already we had this huge table at Keen’s, and it was crowded and loud in the dining room, and we need everyone to hear the various toasts and occasional insults that flavor the conversation. So if others are interested, they need to declare, and we can try to locate a corresponding fan of equal and opposite affiliation.

Notwithstanding the title for this occasion, it was an evening of great food and fellowship. Uncle Rico termed it – Love, Masquerading as Hate. I know I felt the love, especially as we finished up the second flight of whiskies after the dinner, and the check was picked up by the Yankee lovers. That‘s what Yankee lovers are good at, buying dinner for citizens of RedSox nation. Let’s do it again next year, the exact same way.

Barack44 - an Select Invitation

My friend Matt, a huge SU sports fan, had an epiphany. Barack, the first African-American president-elect, is also the 44th pres. So SU, which has immortalized (and foolishly retired) that number, needs to present Barack with his own personalized 44 jersey, not at the White House, but in the Dome, perhaps at half time of the Georgetown game, on Saturday, Valentine's day.

In any event, we are setting up another blog, which we intend to use for the purpose of lobbying the AD to do this, and publicizing this grassroots movement. John has friends with Daily Orange connections, so we should be able to drum up support at the University.

The blog is going up this weekend. By this posting, I'm inviting G-man and Chip to be contributors. I'd use e-mail instead of this public notice, but Susan's computer broke, and I can't find Chip's e-mail. If you guys want to contribute, to be able to post, you have to do two things:
Thing 1 - go to blogspot.com and set up an account. (You may have already done this in order to submit comments on mannymontaigne under your respective names.)
Thing 2 - Then send an e-mail to John with your blogger ID, your e-mail and your password, so John can get you included as a contributor when he does the set-up this weekend. I don't want to put John's e-mail on here, so either call Susan's cell, or send us an e-mail, and we'll tell you how to contact John.

See you all at the Dome for the big event.

The Dilemma of Hating

Coming up on the Haters Ball, I decided to do some research. I thought I’d go to the original source material for inspiration on how best to hate on all the Yankee fans. What could I do to make the Ball more enjoyable for those of us who took such pleasure from the Yankees’ failure to reach the post-season for the first time since the mid-nineties? So I watched, for the umpteenth time, that episode of The Chapelle Show that featured The Player Haters Ball. “What can I say about your suit that hasn’t already been said about Afghanistan?” (John's favorite insult)

But then, in the midst of my field work, Barack got elected, and now suddenly, it’s no longer about hating. Hating is out; it’s passé. Worse, it’s bad for the country. Instead, now it’s all about the love, about bringing us all together – old and young, rich and poor, blue states and red states, black and white and yellow and brown. But RedSox and Yankees? Has it really come to that? How far are we expected to go with all this national reconciliation?

I read that Barack is a White Sox fan. Is he going to throw out the first pitch next spring for the Cubs? And really, do Cubs fans and White Sox fans hate the way we hate in the AL East? I have heard that, despite their long-standing history as baseball’s lovable losers, the Cubs are intensely disliked by many National League fans. Does that antipathy extend to the intra-city rivalry? And if so, how does Barack intend to heal that divide? And if he can’t bring the fans of his own home town together, why should we in the Nation have any second thoughts about our enduring and passionate hatred of anything pinstripe related?

This is really a moral dilemma, one for which I have no answer at present. It’s been so easy to hate in the recent past. Think about how ardently and obsessively the Republicans hated on Bill and Hillary all through the nineties. How they bothered to impeach their own president, and damage their country’s standing, all because Bill fooled around with Monica, and misused a cigar. And then, to return the favor, think of how relentlessly the Democrats have hated on Bush ever since 2000. In this climate of national hating, it only seemed right that we in the Nation hated on our rivals from New York and vice versa. But if Barack alters the political landscape, and changes the tenor of our national dialogue, can we continue in our hateful ways?

Maybe this is all wrong. Maybe I’m just deluded by the gracious and conciliatory speech McCain delivered the other night. Maybe a month from now, even before Barack is sworn in, Republican haters will forget all about that message of national unity, and return to their former practices. They’ll sharpen their tongues and fill the airwaves with talk show venom. And while I hardly look forward to that, at least it will free us from any sense of guilt over our own bad selves, and allow all of us, in the Nation, and in the Evil Empire, to return once more to unabashedly hating on our rivals. As Yogi would say, “It’s déjà vu all over again.”