The Brands You Trust

Whatever shopping habits you had...they changed once the pandemic began.  Brand loyalty went out the window, as did actual deal hunting.  That a store had something you needed was a triumph in and of itself.  This has lead to some interesting purchasing changes for me, but none that were long-term.  It is easy to keep an open mind because it could always be worse and you got what you needed, so who cares?

To that point, in Autumn the school sent emails and texts that they were providing food free of charge as it was already in the budget.  I figured that was for those who needed it, so I ignored the notes.  However, in the middle of winter, making the same ol shit for a VERY finicky eater I noticed that the school missives said "for everyone."  I reached out and confirmed this claim.  "Yes, we have it, come over Friday morning."  

That first visit was a surprise.  A quart of milk, a hothouse cucumber, and a large box.  Inside the box were individually portioned and frozen foods along with fruit cups, juice boxes, cereal cups, and more sporks than I'll ever need in my life.  Just having these options invigorated the two of us.  She'd adhere, mostly, to the menu, and we find hits (she loved Salisbury Steak from the first bite) and losers (you don't want government chicken nuggets or "General Tso's Chicken").  Even as we've started to bore of the usual fare, that these helpers are there are still a welcome delight.

Last week's pickup brought some news: next week will be more supplies than frozen foods.  It'll be items so we can make things ourselves.  Which...was 1 of the problems (because, according to my employer, at home alone doing work with a kid I therefore have all the time in the world) but so be it.  Opening the box this morning brought, well...some interesting staples.

The cans, though.  The cans brought a chuckle to my face.  "What is that?" said the Big Scoop.  Oh, she saw what was reported to be in the can, but in this young age, even she seemed suspect by the items.  Let's just take a look, shall we?

Teasdale Pinto Beans (a can of Jean's own!)

Just because I've never heard of a brand doesn't make me laugh.  On the contrary - if anything I get eager to see if I like it (and, like Newman, to see if I can tell the difference).  Teasdale is a Texas brand, out of Carrollton out there on Belt Line Road.  I think what caught my eye was the red on top with white writing (not unlike Campbell's) but I did like the drop shadow and 60's font.  Just in time for Cinco de Mayo, too.

Tuny tuna fish

Abasto Magazine, the publication for Hispanic food and beverage industry news, says Tuny "began its commercialization in the ’90s and quickly positioned itself as one of the favorite tuna brands by Mexicans."  "Tuny is backed by the most prestigious national and international certificates to give you the confidence that you are consuming an excellent and safe product."  It IS important that you know what you're eating is safe, isn't it?  Although, just that statement does leave a lingering doubt.  Since they're such sticklers about safety, do know the can is not BPA free, and is in soybean oil, not water.  But hey, free tuna.

Great Choice canned fruit

4 cans, Mr. Potthoff?  You've made a Great Choice!  The ingredients of the pears was simple: Pears, Water, Pear Juice, citric acid.  It is distributed out of Stockton, but a product of China.  The bottom of the label has the California warning about BPA, which, you'd think, would be an issue for a California company doing the distribution, but that doesn't move the items off the shelves.  Searching for more information about this company didn't go far: there is already "Great Value" and "Best Choice" so are they going after the confused consumer?  Highland Wholesale Foods Inc. describes themselves as "quality food distribution nationwide."  They just forgot to tell you what kind of quality. 

Chef Maxwell mixed vegetables

When the Big Scoop was little, I bought a toy set of fruits and vegetables that came with some boxes and cans and utensils.  We'd play "restaurant" and learn about foods and so on.  This can immediately came to mind as something lifted right from that set.  As for Chef Maxwell, 5 years ago the FDA stated the frozen version of their mixed vegetables were recalled.  Pay no mind, as this is the can, whose ingredients are listed as carrots, green peas, potatoes, sweet corn, water, and citric acid.  Citric acid in vegetables?  LA Foods in Agoura Hills was kind enough to send this our way, but another product of China.  LA Foods' slogan is "stretching food budgets from coast to coast."  

 

The following are the LA Food categories: Mass Feeders (not passing judgement on anyone in that photo), shelters, food banks, schools, and hospitals.  "Our customer base is diversified; including schools, correctional facilities, manufacturers--" I'll stop there and say thank you for putting schools above correctional facilities.

And I'll say thank you to the school district for helping me break her away from daily mac n cheese desires, saving me a minor amount of time on a daily basis, and teaching me something new.  Now, who's up for some Chef Maxwell?!

Spring '21

For a brief amount of time last year, the 2 sports cards stores in my town (yes, 2, in the '20s no less) were closed.  And, to keep paying the bills, they unloaded some product in ways that, even now, I don't quite understand.  But these items somehow filtered down to the parks department.  (This is not unique: a dance studio which had to close unloaded boxes of generic trophies.  Kind of like when Arthur Carlson sent Dolly Parton wigs to victims of the earthquake in Guatemala.)

These items, baseball cards, are one of the objects being used as "prizes" for the stinkos doing such advanced things as "listening," "doing what I asked you to do," "stopping that," etc.  When shown to me, the Big Scoop herself was excited:

"Look what I got!  The counselor said one of them another kid got was worth $50!"  I had to do some real looking here at what was received.  What was the name of that magazine that showed the prices for cards?  Do you remember that?  Does anyone remember that?

A quick grab from a box of Fleer Ultra's 1994 set provided the following gifts (and the reflective foil is a bitch for photos, scans, etc)

Richie Lewis, P, Florida

Richie spent 7 seasons bouncing around the majors.  Spent 3 years in Florida.  4.88 career ERA.

John Smiley, P, Cincinnati

One of those guys whose name I remembered after some reference, Smiley was a 2 time all star.  In 1991 he was a top 3 guy for the Cy Young.  Following a World Series victory, Minnesota got him for 1992.  He went 16-9 with a 3.20 ERA...and off he went to Cincinnati.

Bob Natal, C, Florida

Bob was a backup catcher for 5 years, 4 in Florida.  The back of the card shows him in a teal chest protector.  Can say he played for the Expos.

Armando Reynoso, P, Colorado

Armando had played in a handful of games in the majors in 91 and 92, but 93 was considered his official rookie year.  (I still don't get how that works - Nando played for the Dodge in 1980, but I guess not enough because he was a "rookie" in 1981).  A member of the starting rotation for 3 different clubs.

Rick Wilkins, C, Chicago Cubs

 

Not sure if Rick lost this one in the sun or not.  The definition of a journeyman catcher, Rick started his career with the Cubs then went on to 7 other teams.  Had some great years with the Cubs.  

There were 2 "names" in the stack of cards - how were they doing in 1994?

 

Willie Wilson, great player

Is the drug charge in the mid-80s the only thing keeping Willie from the Hall of Fame? 

 

Kevin Mitchell, great player, has quite a temper

 

Kevin's 1994, cut short of the strike, was looking to be as good as the year before: batting over .300, and had over 100 hits.  What could have been, since the Reds were in 1st place at the time of the strike.  Don't make him angry.  

Looking through the stack again (and those I didn't scan) I wonder if this was a curated selection or if the Comic Book Guy just grabbed a pinch of 'em and considered it a tax-deductible donation.

Alas, the season starts this week, with pockets of fans in the stands, some travel, some hope.  As we begin, a reminder that the Dodgers are reigning World Champions.

The Curious Case of Colgate

We are lucky in many respects, and for selfish reasons in some cases.  That we'll get some sort of March Madness this year is something positive to look forward to, particularly at a time where such things take on greater weight.  And if you're stuck waiting like I am, you're watching games and then hit in the face with whatever channel's "bracketologist."  And hey, god bless these oafs for fleecing a broadcasting monolith for big cash to talk, make predictions, receive no comeuppance or flack for getting things wrong ("I guess the committee changed their outlook this year...oh well, now I'm on to predicting who's in the Mayo Bowl") and cash that check.

To feed into the interest (and "for clarity"...which...OK) the NCAA sends out their Net rankings on a daily basis.  This, they claim, is the guiding tool for the seeding and at-large selections for the tournament.  And, with the entire tournament being played in Indiana (thus removing the need for the incredibly biased "pod system" of seeding), you'd think the seeding and admittance would be crystal clear to fan and player alike.

When the Net rankings opened this year, right toward the top was Colgate.  The question of if they'd take the league title from BU was removed by "What the?  Colgate?  Well, pandemic year blah blah" and immediately covered by how poopy Duke and Kentucky looked, and ranked, at the start of the season.

Well, here we are now in late February.  Duke and Kentucky have rebounded to typical form.  And there, still at the top, currently ranking #12 as of this writing, is Colgate.  These self-styled "bracket knowers" once had our beloved Loyola-Chicago as a "first four out" with a Net ranking of #14, which gave us hearty laughs for minutes on end.  That, it's clear, is something the windbags don't know, or are refusing to accept.

Back to Colgate.  What does a #12 ranking get you?  If it's a literal transition, it's a #3 seed.  If it's a "yeah, but you're not Syracuse, so you get an #11 seed" then we know little has changed, that the selection committee hates small schools and smaller conferences for life.  And if that's the case, then why fake transparency?  Why go to those lengths?

Alas, for the next few weeks, we won't know.  Depending on how they play, Colgate might move down a touch, or not.  And, as the windbags prefer, they'll have 3 more weeks of free money in the bank account.  It's not bank accountability when the shakedown happens for them.  For us fans, all we can do is wait.

The Scarlet Test Result

New Year's Eve went like most nights: a certain someone goes to bed early while The Big Scoop and I watch 1980 Wheel of Fortune episodes until it's "too late."  Furthermore, who hasn't awoken on New Year's Day not feeling well?  Certainly not unusual.  But these days, New Year's events are a decidedly muted affair, so the little lady and I were surprised to see a very groggy older lady of the house the morning of.  "I feel a cold coming on, but this feels different."  How so, I asked.  "I feel it in my body."  Well, of course you would.  Turns out, it was that indescribable feeling that meant something.  Oh, did it mean something.  

Out of precaution, she put on a mask.  I crashed on the couch, and took over all home duties.  Day 2 of '21 looked and sounded even worse.  "I think I'm going to get a test."  Movements seemed more deliberate and slower.  You can only tell someone so many times to "take it easy" when you're trying to keep distance, right?

Later that afternoon, my phone rang.  It was her - she was calling from the bedroom.  Her voice was soft, a combination of illness and sadness.  "I got the results back.  I have Covid."  My body likely made some sort of sound, and then I started to change the priorities of the house and, more importantly, my life.  Masks on everyone, the Lysol in greater effect, and (more than anything) a general wondering of what the hell is next?

We meet outside, this time at approximately 20 feet distance (or so it seems) for the news drop on the Scoop.  "Ohhhh.  Uh oh." Yup.  "Are you scared for me?" she asked.  I said I was concerned of course...but if I might be allowed a selfish moment, I'm wondering if, uh, I'M ok?!  Or will be tomorrow?

So the air filters are going and I'm dropping off room service food.  From the bedroom, some groans and old smoker's coughs cut through attempted slices of life.  The little lady and I go to Dodger Stadium and get tested...my heart races the next day to open the email...we're both negative.  How did we dodge, pardon the pun, this bullet?  I start to piece together how she got it (the hospital, of course...and it was likely inevitable.  Shit, she went in that week to get the 1st vaccine shot.  Oh the irony) but then conclude that what's done is done.  Gotta keep up.

Week 2 continues, and we hear her beginning to boss us around from over the phone and rooms away.  "This is a sure sign she's slowly getting better" I tell the scoop.  She and I go to Echo Park for test 2 in a colorful part of town.  It goes quick.  We're both negative...again.  

Come weekend, she says "well, it's been in my body for over 2 weeks, so I'm no longer contagious.  I think if I wear a mask, I--" she was curtly cut off by yours truly.  "Um....no?  You're not healthy, still have a cough.  Let's wait until you test negative."  Days later, she gets a test, more out of my insistence than anything.  "I feel better now, it should be fine."  Well, I hope so.  Sunday morning we finally get the news: she's prognosis negative.  She looks like she's the picture of good health, all smiles.  So are the scoop and myself, breathing a sigh of relief.  Masks taken off...

But you can't help but reflect.  Scared as I was, and maybe slightly am for the future, we got off lucky.  There are, as of this writing, 35,000+ deaths in this state since "it all" started.  There are no signs, as of now, of slowing.  We look up, toward the horizon, knowing there seems to be an actual plan from those in charge.  Thankful there is now someone who IS in charge.  Thankful it worked out.  Mindful that...well, it's not over.

The Phrase of the Year Award

It's been quite a year of phrases new and well-worn.  So which of these fucking annoying and misplaced phrases wins the award for 2020?  Let's find out!

2nd Runner Up: "The New Normal"

By using this phrase, the person speaking is accepting the abnormal as what will be commonplace.  Where this was wildly misused was when, after asking someone politely to wear a mask to prevent the spread of a virus would then be extended to, say, charging you through the nose for a product.  Or giving you twice the amount of work because you're lucky to be working at all, you know?  You can apply a phrase such as this afterwards, as if to say "I used to do _____, but now I do _____.  I never do that old ______ anymore....______ is my new normal."  But that doesn't apply to being treated like dung on purpose just because...hey!  This is Your new normal.

1st Runner Up: "It is what it is."

Look, the morgue is full.  The park is closed.  Occurrences minor, annoying, major, life-threatening.  Could they have been prevented?  Most likely.  But they weren't.  They're dead, the house is burned, the store is closed forever and...it is what it is.  A favorite phrase of people who love to talk but say little to nothing of value, this one rocketed up near the top...but it isn't #1.  

The 2020 phrase of the Year: "Can't you just..."

Your life, in whatever way you manage it, or view it, or just plain live it, is completely different.  As such, some rather large difficulties have sprung up.  You're only human to wonder aloud how to deal with these difficulties, but deal with them you do and life marches on (if you're lucky).  And there, from the sidelines, comes confusion from people who are utterly baffled a majority of their life.  Their lack of general knowledge and seeming avoidance of all manners of formal education shine through.  They don't understand.  To explain why you "can't just" would not only require a lengthy explanation, it would also require the person who asked you that same question to understand simple, basic logic.  Could they fully step into your shoes and view the situation as you?  Or anyone else?  Of course not.  As such, the confusion continues.  And it used to just be those random moments in public where their lost, glazed face would cross your path and you'd just shake your head and exhale.  Now those same people, daffier than ever, are oh so confused almost 100% of the time.  Do you have time to explain life/society/how the can opener works?  

It's easy to ask "what is your resolution for '21?" but why is it (I fear) it will just be more so in the coming year?  When is the escape?  Individually, how will we define it?  What will it look like?  And can you blame anyone if they never return? 

It's the system we currently have and...

 Before I begin, I note that I am writing this because I am a big college football fan.  I'm probably a bigger college basketball fan, but I watch more college football these days (just the way it goes with life obligations) but know that combination as you read.

As I watched Saturday and then sat thinking Saturday night, I knew the inevitable.  The good, the fun schools, the ones who made the season interesting and as such would make an invitational er... playoff interesting, wouldn't get close to being included.  It was the same old, same old.

And I thought about what bowl games I could remember, and for each that were big time schools and games, the rest were the upsets and weirdo games.  Of course I'll never forget the Rose Bowl I attended with Oklahoma and Georgia going toe to toe in a game that seemingly never ended and we didn't want it to and I found myself hugging complete strangers in euphoria.  But, for some reason, I remember VERY old Independence Bowls, and I don't know why.  I won't even bore you with the details.

These kind of reaching thoughts first started in late March of 2020.  I felt selfish, but I thought back to many, many March's and their madness.  Some nuttier than others, some unique, a few depressing, but a large amount of memories.  Nearly all of those memories were not that North Carolina won their 2nd round game by 30.  It was because they lost to Weber State in the first round.  

Both of those events, a destruction and an upset loss, were because "the powers that be" long ago said even if you're great, or a "big school," you're going to have to play these games.  You're going to have to travel (not always, I'm looking at you Duke) and you'll play Missouri State or Detroit or Belmont or Santa Clara, and you'll just have to go right then and there.  Hell, DePaul, in its glory years, received byes (back when those were a thing) and then would lose their 1st game so often they said "we don't want to have a bye, we want to play in the first round, too) and so it was.

So bring it back to college football.  And all I hear from the windbags or those brainwashed by either ESPN or a spray-tanned pile of chicken fat say "DURRR THEY'D GET SMOKED BY (insert school here)."  I could list the many March Madness upsets (even when the NCAA is slowly trending to include fewer of those schools) and their automatic response is that it's "not the same."  Because the sport isn't the same, not what we're talking about (upsets, all schools getting a fair shake) because...well, we're already losing brain cells.  

North Carolina "would smoke that school" until they didn't.  They lost.  I'm not saying Alabama should play Kansas State this year.  I'm saying I'd like them to play an undefeated Cincy...or Coastal Carolina...shit, I've love to see em play Army, just to fuck them up when they go on a 15 play, 42 yard drive that takes 13 minutes.  Or an undefeated San Jose State, where Nick goes "Wait, why does our quarterback have to throw while running backwards?"  And maybe they'd win.  And they'd likely win.  And SJSU would say "we gave em everything we had."  Or maybe it'd go the other way around, and we'd be talking about it forever.

I always mean to watch reruns when I can't think of what to watch.  I should watch "Turkey's Away" from WKRP in Cincinnati around Thanksgiving.  Some years I do, some I don't.  And when I don't, I know I can go through the high points in my mind, smile and shake my head.  Well, college football, I've seen this shit over and over again.  You don't want to show me another episode...or anything new.  If the callous response, correctly or misplaced, is "It's all about money" then let's see a fandom, some of whom are upset, vote with their TVs/Computers/Phones and just not watch.  When a double digit decline in viewership is reported, "they" won't be ready for a response.  But if it's the same old, same old, well...that's what will continue to happen.  And, also selfishly, something I enjoy will be taken away from me, and all that's left are those same memories.

Escaping to and from

Late at night last Friday.  Some swanky tunes were playing, I believe Natalie Cole or Yvonne Elliman.  Rain was on the way and it seemed like Fall was finally showing up.  It was in this moment that we made a decision somewhere between striking and relenting: we shall vacation, if even briefly.  Won't just doing so make us feel better?  Well, in today's world, worries never really leave, do they?

The drive to Santa Barbara has all the same signposts: the 101, north of Oxnard, going along the ocean.  Passing Ojai and the mountains.  You pass Carpinteria and Summerland, and you know you're almost there.  Then it narrows (because you MUST have traffic) and just as it opens, there are all the familiar streets.  The familiar foliage and architecture.  What was not familiar was the thing that brought all the feel good crashing down.  All it took was one view of State St.  We knew that the street was closed in-between cross-streets, and restaurants had spilled out into the streets.  While that seems like a good idea in theory, the practice is another matter.

So for the first time since it all went down, I sat at a table, on a sidewalk, adjacent to a heat lamp (in midday, this being SB in the fall) and tried to relax as much as one could in-between seeing folks walk with the old "chin mask" (and some "The Dumb and The Maskless" - weekdays on CBS).  There are just so many things outside your control that it used to be Dumb Mouthbreath would only be in your way, or cause a minor annoyance.  Does it just seem like they multiplied?  

It was supposed to be a relaxing time, but it was all making me depressed: I knew it wouldn't be the Santa Barbara I remembered, but the endless store closures drove it home.  An area that was once vibrant was near-death.  I tried to think about how that was good - we have more space to ourselves, right?  But we all know why we do, and it didn't make anyone feel good.

Remember that restaurant?  Closed. Oh there was a good store that-- Closed.  Can we walk down that path to-- Closed.

The wharf is still there.  So is the beach.  So are the sunsets.  And riding up and down the coast on the bike was bringing the familiars back while creating new...and it was then that I began to realize that's about all you can ask (or hope) for when trying to break away in 2020 and beyond.  Once I began to keep that lens, the "survival" mode was still around, but the glow buoyed the good times.  Or maybe it was the hot tub, looking up at the post-sunset sky, palm trees quietly swaying.  

Yet the next day, back we went, and when we did there wasn't the melancholy of "damn, it's over."  There was a whole other "we made it" vibe on the return.  It had only been an overnight, but upon returning, we all said we felt like we'd been gone a week.  (Some of us packed that way, too...not calling out names)  Refreshment was delivered, even if the comforts and safety (such as it is) of home were as welcome as a gold-framed vista.

Making it Happen used to have one meaning.  Those still trying to make a go of it in Santa Barbara now have given it a whole new definition. 

Baseball salvation

It's only been a few days, but I keep reminding myself (and others out here do as well): World Champions.  #1.  "We" did it!  Because for so long it seemed like it would happen, I still can't believe it.  In public, anyone in Dodger gear finds another (I've had it done to me and done it myself): Hey!  World Champs!  

This might sound like an aside, but it fits in with the story: I've worked with metrics of one kind or another my entire adult life.  Said metrics that are used for business decisions.  And since Day 1, I/we have always said that nothing is absolute, that these are used to guide decisions.  Sometimes you go with your gut, and you're proven wrong.  This, now more than ever, applies to baseball.  And it's well known that stats help.  I am sure a team uses "cyber metrics" (a new term I'd never heard before this series, thanks Fox Sports) as guidance for key situations.  But if you're a Dodger fan and Dave Roberts is managing your team, and you'd see Dave looking at his cards in the dugout, you knew you were in trouble.

Why does a former ballplayer, one with such success, go past his instinct and rely on the cards?  Is he a pushover?  That he's told to and he does what he says?  Does this then absolve him of keeping too close a focus on the game?  Us Dodger fans knew the answer was somewhere in there.  And as a result, despite what success occurred in the regular season, we were just the 1990's Braves.  The hot glare of the post season shows up, and sooner or later "we" melt under stupid decisions.  

The 2010s were tough times for Dodger fans.  The 1st half of the decade the Giants fans could rightly taunt southern California with their rings and their ability to make it happen.  The 2nd half was a letdown, one way or another.

2015 hurt but we learned that Zack Greinke's only motivating factor is money.  Is the check fatter?  That's job #1.  It also removed Donny Yankees from the team, so all was not lost.  2016 hurt but hey, it was the Cubs, they went on, and god bless em.  2017 "we" make the World Series!  Yes, the Astros cheated, we all know this, but it's still a loss.  Altuve can eat shit.  We lost 2 extra inning games, don't forget.  And we did win one in Houston as trash cans banged around.  Altuve can fuck off.  2018, Boston was the better team.  Dave was a Red Sox hero, and didn't want to tarnish that in any way.  Game 4 was right in our hands.  Dick Mountain was doing his thing.  And then Dave looked at his magic cards.  And Dick walked to the dugout and threw his glove at the wall because he was dealing hot sauce and he knew what was coming.  The Dodgers lost everything after that.  Farhan and his smug self-satisfaction left, too...sadly leaving behind the "cyber metrics" thinking to Dave.  Since Farhan's gone to the Giants, they've had a losing record every year.  2019 was...again, right fucking there.  An NLDS embarrassment, but at least the team that beat us won it all.  Scioscia rumors began.  Last chance, Dave.

So in Game 4 of this World Series, when Joan Baez was removed, then put back in to pitch in a moment...in Game 5, when Big K was taken out because "we talked before the game about the number of batters he'd face" I knew we'd be fucked.  The magic cards were out again.  And here, instead of going with what you're seeing on the field, it was the magic cards stopping all momentum.  And we'd be fucked again, and would anyone care?  But then, just then, in Game 6 when we were getting steamrolled...Dave Roberts magical cards floated to Tampa Bay's dugout.  Their starter (an off-season auto mechanic if I had to guess) was lights out and then POOF!  He's gone!  Saints be praised!  

The self inflicted wounds healed because someone else decided to hurt themselves.  I don't like to win that way...but someone has to win, why not "us" - right?  It's real.  It exists, and it's ours.

Each October, after another Dodger downer, I'd place the LA cap on the shelf...to be worn again next Spring; maybe this year.  The wait continues.  And now?  In the words of Jacques Clouseau "Not anymore."  The champagne flows and flows.

Which way the scales?

Looking for an escape.  Making one, on occasion, but always looking.  On that occasion, those escapes can last years. But over the 15 years of the Gold, as I think about life and what's been shared, that concept kept coming into my mind.  It could be read as "why can't you be happy with what you have?"  Well, there is enough of that already, no?  Isn't that day to day life?  

"Let's Do a Jacuzzi!"

The very people who used this setting as one for business deals, not deals of another sort, were still very much in charge at the beginning of this blog.  Their stories were simply endless gold deliveries, and most...MOST told them sheepishly.  Well, would you be proud of the fact that you were an hour late to get your wife at LAX because you just got some daffy dust and you wanted that gone before you got her?  And then when you got there she could tell you were "full of ideas" and there, in front of a soon to be completed Tom Bradley Terminal she calls you out and your high vanishes and you say it has to end, right then and there.  

That's a sad ending, but it's an ending that means that person could talk to you, in that hallway, in 2005.  Tread carefully, because you don't want to oversell and leave them wondering why life isn't the same.  In many ways, they survived.  Hell, they're still there, and in the end, decades later, you want to be that person telling the youth of America about shit that went down in your youth that you regret, sure, but the story is so nutty that it's an easy go-to for entertainment of "the old days."

But...there are others that vanished and now, 15 years later, even more are gone.  What seemed as relatively recent history then is even more far gone now...if it seemed like another world 15 years ago, what is it now?  Can you blame anyone if, reading it now, it starts to read like fiction?  Whoever is left will readily assure you it was all very real.  Unfortunately, fewer and fewer are around to do so. 

No, it was a comeback

It's not all depression around here...well, I mean, there ARE the weekends where some sort of facsimile of college football is still presented.  And you KNOW it warmed my heart completely to see CBS, carrying coast to coast, the afternoon football game of Appalachian State against Marshall.  This is how it could be: these schools mixed in with their usual SEC games.  I wanted the nation to know this.  Accept this, then embrace it.  Well, the results are in and needless to say that was not the case.  Look, you can't help people who don't want help, and I'm sure there are some overfed yokels out there who took one look at that game, thought it was Canadian football, and put in a tape of an old fishing show.  

Earlier in the day, however, Navy made quite the comeback: against Tulane, down 24-0 at halftime, they stormed back and won on the last play of the game.  Announcer Mark Jones yelped that it was the largest comeback in school history.  The Midshipmen were euphoric.  And then Mark decided to quote a lyric from LL Cool J from 30 years ago (to show he's hip to the youth of today).  It was the first lyric to "Mama Said Knock You Out" and even if you'd never heard the song in your life, you'd realize he was 100% wrong because what just occurred was exactly that: a comeback.  The same one that, seconds before, he was shouting about.  It appears the lesson will be learned, again, that announcers have shelf lives, some longer than others, and his appears to be done.  It was a good run.

The fall of Fall

I mentioned in my first Two Decades post back in January that the evolution of the "New Fall Season" has gradually tumbled in importance.  Year after year it was so...a decline that I thought last year's breathless advertising was quaint.  Like a long ignored chain store that was once popular: customers walk by, seeing big banners for sales of new products, and turn to one another and talk about their last visit.  "Wow, how long has it been?  Man, we used to go in there all the time.  Remember that?"

Well, now there isn't one, and the very topic which was first brought up 20 years ago, that "there is no season anymore" - a topic that started with Survivor and pushed beyond with all other viewing sources, now here we are.  There are shows, you watch them now, or later, or a while after that.  There's more than ever...and that's just the first layer.

It's hard to say that it will ever return, or at least not to what it was, say 5-10 years ago, because weeks become months and months are years.  It seems that way now; fuck if I know why.  To that point, when I looked for my first post on Pacific Gold, the title was "A Hope For Tomorrow during Maddening Frustration."  I can pinpoint just what it was I was referring to, but while the problem seemed large at the time, what did I know?  If I look at this time of year over the last 15 years, roughly 1/3rd of the time I'd consider what I was going though the same thing - I was in maddening frustration, but there was hope for tomorrow in some way.  Was it really not that big a deal, or was it and I didn't let it get to me?  Maybe I was too much of a blithe spirit to realize my surroundings.  Maybe...

Nobody said that life would be easy, nor would it be easy finding a shorter rope.  Now, as then, we press on like Farmer John ham.   

 

The Hottest

 (static is heard, a monotone voice drones through the ether)

"The lever is long, and time is short"

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I knew we were Bound For Greatness when I got a text that jarred me out of bed at 2:45am about how it was safe to bet the KHL in Kazhakstan again.  Traktor was giving 1.5 goals, and you'd be a damn fool to let that pass.  I knew then, like I know now, like I always knew, that things were Turning Around.  Summer was around the corner, and spring had sprung.

Of course, it always gets hot before it boils.

Now we sit in the wash and pretend that "distractions" are any different from the waking somnambulance which constitutes our "lives".  Reanimated corpses come to life, indeed.  A 40 game season where they have to play a tripleheader just to make up for time lost to myocardial infarctions, and at the end you hoist a trophy in front of?  Your dad?  Who got the flu-mist?

I may have arrived too late to comment on these things, and lord knows I've heard much more music through the needle in the last 6 months than I have through the wireless.  I haven't had a drink in a year and this last 3 months felt like skiing uphill.  I worked, I quit, then I got hired, you know how it goes.  Strikes and gutters, and the gauze that covers my vision is comforting at long last.

But that's not what you are here for.  That's not what any of us are here for.

I suppose if you pull anything out of What It Means this year, it's got to be that the truth fucking CUTS, man.  I once mused that they might well just play these games on a sound stage in Burbank, and NOW THEY DO EXACTLY THAT.  Baseball became wrestling, football a game of sandlot two-hand touch, basketball reduced to a play in the round.  So what do we do?  You watch it, you sort of cheer, and you, what?  Eat?

If you're laying out hot sauce, like we all should, it's got to be offense forever.  If Stern were alive, he'd have these games ending in the 300s.  Why would a defender throw himself in front of a chugging running back and risk any type of injury or even discomfort?  What the hell does any of it matter anyway?  Keep the score up, keep the eyeballs, keep the money.  It's happening without witnesses, so, fine.  It's easier to control the dull roar of the fake fans inside the Viking Stadium than the real ones.  Shit, were there real ones?

They didn't blow the horn because 4 cops killed a guy.

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The meaning is gone, and there was never any meaning.  We told ourselves stories of rectitude and order.  In reality, it was always the spinning stars and the rising sun.  It was always the golden waves, and the green and blue drifts.  It was always only a stack of moments, nothing more.  So we still charge into that surf - and we still See What Happens when we step off the curb.

The Gold stays.  Happy 15.