Brett Favre and his Field of Dreams

I just finished watching Field of Dreams, which, along with The Natural, is one of the two best baseball movies of all time (Although this doesn't quite live up to the book, while The Natural's movie version definitely leaves a better taste in the audience's mouth than the book in terms of the whole "having faith in humanity" thing, but that's for another day).  I specify "baseball movie" as opposed to "sports movie" because I believe they are a different genre, in fact, hardly even the same species.  One of my professors from last semester, Tracey Thomas, told me that Frank Deford, who has written for Sports Illustrated and is a broadcaster for NPR, once said that he believes that the best sports movies are the ones written about the sports with the smallest balls, and while I'm having a hard time coming up with good golf and polo movies (although I do love The Legend of Bagger Vance), and I love all of the following movies, it's hard to argue that Remember the Titans (team comes together to win), The Longest Yard (team comes together to win), Rocky (man overcomes odds to win), Hoosiers (team and coach come together and overcomes odds to win), Coach Carter (team overcomes odds to win), or Rudy (man overcomes odds for a huge moral victory) are very good complete stories compared to Field of Dreams (man gets to redeem himself after losing the opportunity to have relationship with his father), For Love of the Game (man realizes what's actually important in life), The Natural (man has to decide between love and money, and loses, completely crashing from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in the process), and even The Sandlot (kid makes friends, realizes he sucks at baseball, geekiness saves Babe Ruth baseball, watches his friend succeed).

Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez agrees with me)

There are no scores in Field of Dreams.  Nobody wins.  Nobody loses.  The only time a run is scored is when Moonlight Graham (by the way, what happened to cool sports nicknames?) drives in a run off of a sac fly, after finally being able "To stare down a big league pitcher.  To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink.  Make him think you know something he doesn't."  The whole point of the movie is that dreams and spontaneity are the most real things in the world, and that as long as we make sure that we follow our dreams and act on our impulses, we'll probably turn out okay (Editor's note: Letters to Pilky takes no responsibility for anybody who follows this advice and fails.  It's probably much more difficult to do if there isn't a disembodied voice giving hints along the way).  All that Ray Kinsella wanted to do was to be able to play catch with his father one last time after he severed their relationship.  He wanted another chance to play.  One more chance to show his father that he loved him.


On a related note, up until about a month ago I had a serious problem with Brett Favre.  I enjoyed every interception that he threw.  I hoped and prayed that he would get hurt.  I wanted the Vikings to lose every single game that they played.


In the first week of December I had to give a presentation on sports and the media for my Sports in American life class (with the previously mentioned Tracey Thomas, dontcha know), and I decided that I would discuss the way that Brett Favre has used the media to put himself into the limelight.  What I started to realize, instead, was that this guy was just trying to please everybody, something we've all been guilty of at one time or another, and while I still hope that the Vikings lose every time they walk onto the field, I started to feel bad for all the hatred that I've given Brett Favre over the past few years.  At one point, the man was my idol for being able to have more fun than anybody in the world, and now I dislike him for pretty much the exact same reason. 


Last night I finally got a chance to unashamedly cheer one more time for Brett Favre, as the Packers needed the Bears to lose for the Packers to win the division (because we all know that the Bears will lose to the Jets next week, and the Packers the week after, while the Packers have easy wins against the Giants and Bears coming up.  By the way, the Bears have only played four teams with winning records so far this year.  I don't think that should count.  The teams that they have beaten have a combined record of 75-93.  These guys blow.) (Editor's note: Best Case Scenario: Packers sneak into a Wild Card spot, draw the Bears at Soldier Field in the first round, and win by 600 points after Roger Goodell implements a mercy rule at halftime).  Anyway, it was fun.  Cheering for Favre was fun.  Watching Favre throw a bubble screen for a touchdown was fun.  And all of the sudden I didn't hate Brett Favre anymore.  In fact, I really liked him.  After all, he stands for everything that Letters to Pilky has been harping on since the beginning.  Ignoring logic.  Joy.  Making the most of experiences.  Extending childhood.  Like Ray Kinsella, Brett Favre has done some totally irrational things without much regard for how the people who cared about him would react, but I cheer for Ray and boo Brett.  Why?  Maybe because Brett Favre is a no-good rotten traitor he didn't go about it gracefully.  Maybe because he went to the arch-rivals.  Maybe because it seems like he's really finally done.  Maybe because Brett Favre just wanted to play.  He wanted to go out and enjoy it.  He wanted to do what he loved.  It's hard to fault a guy for that, especially when he did such a beautiful job of it for so long.  I never thought I'd be able to forgive Brett Favre, but I guess I have.  All he wanted was one more chance (and one more chance, and one more chance) to show the game that he loved it, and I'd say he did a pretty good job.

"You always felt like it was baseball here"

 

My favorite people are people who love their jobs, people who we can all be pretty sure would still work even if they weren't getting a paycheck, people who make us question the definition of what work is and whether or not it has to involve at least some degree of disappointment or hassle or frustration.  People like the previously mentioned George the barber, people like Stuart, people like Ron Santo.

From 1959 until Thursday, Ron Santo managed to make a living from the game of baseball.  He played until 1974, and from 1990-2010 he was the color commentator for the Cubs.  The job description of "color commentator" could not fit anyone better than it fit Ron Santo.  We've discussed color commentators before.  Very few people who are given this title actually perform what they set out to.  They don't add color to the game, they add "I think I'm smarter than you" and "I don't give the viewers enough credit" insight.  Ron Santo didn't do that.  Ron Santo provided color.  He made listening fun.  As a Chicago native, it's very easy to juxtapose Ron and his play-by-play partner, Pat Hughes, with Ed Farmer and Darrin Jackson of the White Sox.  Farmer and Jackson are very good at two things: 1. Trying to talk over each other.  2. Not really being able to figure out who's supposed to be doing play-by-play.  3. Knowing more than the other person  4. Taking themselves way too seriously  5. Not providing negative excitement (I know, that was more than 2, but I was on a roll).  Pat and Ron don't have these problems at all.  Pat gives an incredibly descriptive description of the game, the weather, the uniforms, the ballpark, and Ron sucks it all in like the rest of us would if we were at the ballpark.  He was an emotional roller coaster, just like the rest of us are when we're emotionally invested in things.  Would my mother like listening to the Cubs if it weren't for Ron Santo's ability to attach her emotionally to the game?  Not a chance.  He did this not only with positive excitement, but also with negative excitement, most famously when Brant Brown dropped that fricken fly ball.  "Ohhhh noooooo...  Nooooooooo!"  Pat and Ron had conversations that made listening worthwhile even when the game wasn't.  (Editor's note: This is a great stocking stuffer)  They involved the listener.  They were best friends and they allowed you into that circle, and we knew that it was a privilege and that we should be honored, and we were.  It was like they were sitting in the backseat of the car, reminiscing about the glory days, getting their hopes up about the current players and teams, and basically just being professional fans.

Ron Santo didn't add much insight to broadcasts.  He wasn't a brilliant analyst.  (Mickey Mantle once said, "I could never be a manager. All I have is natural ability."  I'd put Ron in a similar category)  He was, however, the most passionate of fans.  When we get to the ballpark we always check out who's sitting around us, and the best are the guys who know just enough to not be annoying ("Yay!  Wait, what happened?"), but not too much to the point where they over-analyze everything ("The SABRmetrics say that guys with Nike spikes perform worse on Thursdays.  I can't believe that Piniella didn't know that").  The best is the guy who has a relationship with the game, because baseball is a game you have to have a relationship with.  There isn't the constant excitement to hold your attention and it's way too complicated to truly understand unless you've spent a lot of time around it, which means that there is a much bigger distance between true fans and casual friends than in other sports.  I've heard people say that Ron Santo is annoying or that he's stupid or that he's hard to listen to.  These people just don't understand Ron Santo's beautiful relationship with the game.  There was nothing else (just kidding, he's a great family man too).   (Editor's note: I should be using past tense I guess, but I don't think I'm ready for that)  Donald Hall said in his book Fathers Playing Catch With Sons, "Baseball is fathers and sons. Football is brothers beating each other up in the backyard, violent and superficial. Baseball is the generations, looping backward forever with a million apparitions of sticks and balls, cricket and rounders, and the games the Iroquois played in Connecticut before the English came. Baseball is fathers and sons playing catch, lazy and murderous, wild and controlled, the profound archaic song of birth, growth, age, and death. This diamond encloses what we are."  Baseball isn't meant to be focused on 100% when you're watching or listening.  Every pitch doesn't need to be analyzed because there's not that much meaning behind a 1-1 outside fastball that the pitcher was trying to brush the corner with.  It doesn't need to be looked at too hard.  Other things can be talked about during a ballgame because there isn't a need for the entire three hours to be filled with play descriptions and analysis.  Ron Santo understood that.  He would get up and go to the bathroom between innings, he would get hot dogs and go silent for batters at a time while eating them, he was just a fan.  He was somebody that other fans could relate to, and that's why he's so loved.

When Sportsman's Park in St. Louis was torn down, he was quoted as saying "I'm going to miss it... It always felt like it was baseball here."  That's what Ron Santo's voice has been for the last twenty years.  It always meant baseball.  He lived through the Cubs, and now he's died with the Cubs.

Someone I want in my foxhole

One person who I have a lot of respect for is my high school baseball coach, Jeff Aldridge.  When we chose team captains, he would have us write down three guys each that we would want in our foxhole.  What he meant by that was three people that we knew we could count on if we had to make it out of a battle alive.  This meant the people that we picked weren't necessarily the ones we liked the most or who were the best players (although it was always a bonus if they did fall into these categories), but the ones who were loyal enough and valued the group enough to stay with us for better or for worse.  This is somebody that I would definitely want in my foxhole:

The Nard Dawg

I don't think I've ever met a person as loyal as Nardo.  Nardo is somebody who would do anything for any of his friends.  Whenever something seemed even slightly wrong, he'd immediately check on me to make sure I was okay.  Whenever one of us went into an uncertain situation he'd be right next to us.  He gave everybody a chance, and then he made sure that he had their back forever.  Little things like that seemed insignificant at the time, but looking back, it's amazing how much they can do and how much I value them.  Knowing that there's somebody that cares about you is a feeling that you only realize exists when it disappears. 

This man loves his friends more than just about anything in the world, which I'm sure the rest of us wish we could truly say.  No matter how much love I throw at Nardo, he always throws back more, but I guess I can still try.  If I'm ever in a foxhole I want Nardo there next to me, because I know that he'd be more willing to go down himself to get me out than to get out himself.  That's the best kind of friend and the best kind of person, and I can only hope he realizes how highly I think of him.

On this date...

We're once again going back in time to revisit some of the most important events in recent history.

On this date (October 15) in 1990...

...Ryan Murphy was born (who knew that Murph had a first name?)

Murph, always a snazzy dresser, is the cause of major excitement for #1 Notre Dame recruit Dave Acton

 Murph's story actually starts well before October 15, 1990, however.  In April of 1840, Ma and Pa Murphy decided to move from their home in the midwest to the promised land of Oregon.  They departed from Nauvoo, Illinois with $50, 193 pieces of bacon, a rifle, and 14 jars of aloe vera.  Unfortunately, Ma Murphy developed a severe case of Cholera in Casper, Wyoming, so the Murphys settled down and their descendants have lived there ever since.

Pa and Ma Murphy posing confidently before heading west.

By the time Murph dirty was born, the family had well adjusted to western life.  As a child, Murph won over 17 duals on the playground, which would have had him tarred and feathered and hogtied to the train tracks in any other town, but fortunately he shot the sheriff (he didn't shoot the deputy), and therefore was able to avoid any time in the local prison/saloon.

Murph and his right hand man, the Bandana'd Bandit

Murph gave up his outlaw ways when he enrolled in Natrona County High School.  He gave up his spurs for sneaks, and led the Mustangs to two Wyoming state basketball championships (actually a real fact), although I'm pretty sure that there were about three teams in Wyoming, and NC was the only school with at least five boys enrolled.  Still, two championships in three years isn't bad.  Murph was also named to the Knute Rockne Memorial Recreation Center All-Star team, where he led the gold squad to a 21-16 victory over a team led by That Asian Guy Who Tries Way Too Hard And Seems Like A Douche.

Murph drives against all three of Kelly Walsh's players

 Having accomplished all that he wanted to accomplish in the desperado and basketball worlds, Murph now lives a relatively quiet life, pretending to not be a crazed former murderer/point guard extraordinaire, which he pulls off quite well.  His soft spoken ways and quick wit always leave the ladies wanting more, which is exactly how he likes it.

On this date (October 17) in 1991...

...Eric Chyriwski was born.

Eric before converting to Catholicism

Eric Chyriwski is a modern day renaissance man, not only participating in many fields, but excelling at all of them from the time that he was a young man.  His athletic, academic, business, and acting careers (the jury is still out on whether or not the acting career counts) would be remarkable accomplishments by themselves, but coupled together they make for one of the most extraordinary lives of all time.

Eric also survived living with this hobo for a year

Sometimes referred to as the Danny Almonte of Long Island Lacrosse, Eric was able to play in the U12 division of the Lynbrook Lacrosse League for a record 12 years due to his small stature.  Long considered to be a legal midget, Eric was allowed to play mostly because everybody felt bad for him, but in the meantime he racked up an impressive 10,382 goals, and after retirement, immediately flipped the growth switch, growing a remarkable 3 feet in his first 2 months in college.  League officials are in the midst of an investigation as to whether this sudden growth spurt was due to HGH, and as of now, his goal record has an asterisk.

Eric leads the Mean Green Machine against the Angry Blue Dragons in LLL U12 action in 2008

After adding the extra 36 inches and 100 pounds, Eric took his talents to South Bend, where he led the interhall hockey league in penalty minutes.  Every one of Eric's penalties resulted from checks, which are illegal in the league.  This shows Eric's true stupidity irrationality courage, as he believed that taking out opponents physically and mentally was well worth the two minutes in the box.  Eric's talents don't stop there, however, as he was also a tycoon in the business world, swindling almost $95,000 dollars in funds from the Lynbrook pool's concession stand.  He followed up that performance by bribing the judges and jury in his money laundering case, allowing him to win the case and take away $30,000 of his original "earnings."  After losing it all in a game of H-O-R-S-E, a quick-thinking Eric quickly went double-or-nothing on a game of NCAA football, which he won easily.

He then purchased this fine suit (Note - Eric was 17 years old in this picture)

Eric may come across as cocky at times, but after all of his accomplishments, this confidence is much more understandable.  He also has a philanthropic soul, as he is currently growing out his sick flow, brah, to donate to Locks of Love.  Donations can be made to support Eric at locksoflove.org

On this date...

Today, we will go back in history and discuss influential important significant pretty regular events that took place on September 26 September 28 around this date in history (Official Editor's Note:  This probably would've been better if I would have done it on the exact date, but I've been busy, ok?  Get off my case)

We'll go chronologically.

On this date (September 28), in 1990...

...David Jeremiah Acton was born.

Fun Fact: Dave came out of the womb in a tux.

 Dave has been a champion from the very beginning, coming in first place in the "Most Beautiful Baby of 1990" award from Huntington hospital with a total of 78 votes, which was 78 votes over the next highest finishers.  Over 52 of the voters (Huntington hospital nurses) also claimed to have been hit on by the young Maestro, and 51 said that his wooing attempts were successful (the other seemed to be so overwhelmed by the beautiful baby's dreamy stare that she couldn't speak, so she couldn't technically answer the question).

29 nurses claimed that it was Dave's "angel-like" smile that won them over

Davman2890 passed through elementary school without attending a single class, preferring instead to smoke cigarettes on the playground with the 5th graders.  He was also undefeated in both four-square and capture the flag, generally intimidating the other players by his size before they would even attempt to beat him.  After being heavily recruited by most of the NBA, Dave took his talents to South Beach, leading the Miami Heat to the 2006 NBA championship under the pseudonym of "Shaquille O'Neal."  Due to gambling allegations, Dave was forced to hang up his sneakers after the season ended, at which point he returned to Strong Island to join the Huntington High School track team, where he won 3 state championships in the 4x100 meter relay, where he was the starter and anchor for the team (he also ran the second and third legs).  The combo of Acton, Acton, Acton, and Acton finished the New York State Championships with a time of 36.91 seconds.  Although this record (and the championship) was later revoked because a rule had been added that an individual runner could only run one leg of a relay.  Nonetheless, it is considered one of the New York State Public High School Athletic Association's greatest moments.  Acton was later disallowed from competing in the Olympics because the electronic timers used in Beijing were too slow to react to the Maestro's speed.  He was given an honorary gold medal.

Dave running the second leg of the NYSPHSAA State Championship

In the fall of 2008, the University of Notre Dame began recruiting Dave, who they considered to be their top academic prospect.  Because he had been a professional basketball player, Dave was ineligible to play any sports for the Irish, but this opened the door for President Father John Jenkins to offer him ten full ride scholarships, essentially giving him $1,800,000, as well as covering class fees, to attend Notre Dame.  Mr. Acton was also placed into Alumni Hall, where he serves as second in command to Father George Rozum.

Dave showing his joy after being named #1 recruit.  His much less important friend seems to be honored just to be in the same room as this great man.

Today, Dave splits his time between saving young squirrels and helping Aerospace Engineering students with their homework.

On this date (September 26), in 1994...

...Stuart Streit was born.

Stuart after distributing one of his legendary vanilla-smelling farts

Some say that Leonardo da Vinci was the Stuart Streit of his generation.  In his sixteen years of existence, Stuart has mastered the fields of academics, athletics, and music in ways unmatched by anyone in the history of the world (Research not needed.  Letters to Pilky staff is pretty sure about this one).

Stuart was named Pharoah of the Universe on September 27, 1994, a duty which he will carry to his death bed

Stuart was first noticed by the academic world when he received the first 4.0 ever achieved at Beginnings Montessori preschool, which had previously striven to treat all pupils equally.  Said Lorie Hyatt, the principal at Beginnings, "We could always tell that Stuart was the alpha male of the class.  He insisted that the only way that he would ever get accepted into MIT after graduation would be if he was given a 4.0, and when he started threatened us to a calculus competition for the transcript, we decided that it would be better to just give it to him than to be embarrassed and be forced to give it to him."  Stuart received an undergraduate degree in Computational and Systems Biology in the summer of 2000, after which he enrolled at South Elementary in Crystal Lake.  He was the valedictorian of the class of 2005, and filled the same role in 2008 at North Middle School.  His current class rank is undisclosed by Guidance Counselor Liz Arbir, but we're pretty sure that she just couldn't figure out what this confusing symbol meant: 1).

Stuart frequently has his clothing ripped off by adoring fans.  At this concert, it was the happy dude behind Stuart's bulging left bicep.

Stuart first entered the musical world with a resounding performance of "Jesus Loves Me" in the First Congregational Church's Melody Makers choir.  Since then, Stuart has mastered the piano and totally blows at the french horn (Get it?).  Some say that Beethoven has used the Stuman's work as inspiration for his symphonies, while Ben Folds routinely covers Stuart's songs for his albums and in concert.  Instead of using words to describe Stuart's musical talents, I believe that it would be more appropriate to use this song that Stuart wrote about himself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fppMDpe0W50

Stuart loads up to unleash a 107 mph fastball

Stuart's athletic career is considered by some to be his greatest personal accomplishment.  After leading Beginnings to three straight World Championships in football, basketball, baseball, and squash, he went on to lead both South and North to five and three more World Championships, respectively, in the same sports, although he decided to drop squash after the World Squash Federation was unable to create a rubber polymer that was able to withstand the power of Stuart's swings.  Upon entering high school, Stuart joined the cross country team, despite having a serious case of Severe Lack Of Whatever is Needed when Entertaining Serious Speed (You can take care of the acronym for yourself).  Coach Bill Eschman believes that Stuart's work ethic and tenacity more than make fun of his S.L.O.W.N.E.S.S.  Stuart also pitched for Team America in the 2010 RZ Dominica Elite tournament, being named El Mejor Lanzador (actually true).  He had to forfeit the award, however (not so true), when he failed to kiss the girl that RZ Dominica provided for such that purpose (kind of true).  Stuart is currently being heavily recruited by Theo Epstein of the Boston Red Sox to fill the role of both Assistant General Manager and replacing Jonathon Papelbon as the closer.

(Editor's note: The following material is extremely emotionally taxing, and is not recommended for those not sitting down, or those with weak stomachs, or for those not from Crystal Lake)

On this date (September 28), in 2008...

This guy

and this girl

fell in this

and the world is believed to have done this.