I don’t watch much TV these days unless it involves a bunch of overpaid men and a football or baseball. But long ago, I watched a ton of Tom Snyder.
Not many people will admit that. First, it shows how old you are. Second, Snyder was thought of as kind of a goofball.
Not funny goofball like David Letterman or Stephen Colbert. More like a goofball who doesn’t get it.
And he didn’t, to some extent. But that was part of his appeal.
Still, for its time, “The Tomorrow Show” could be entertaining. It was one of the first talk shows that appealed to night owls. His guests ranged from rock stars to politicians — and weren’t the kind of usual suspects you see on a lot of shows today.
And of course there was Tom. He smoked. He had a big hunk of hair combed sideways. He waved his long fingers in front of his face. He said stuff to guys off-camera. He had that booming laugh and verbal tics that identified him like his fingerprints.
As such, he was easy for comics like Dan Aykroyd to mimic, But then, so was the great Johnny Carson.
“The Tomorrow Show” lasted for nine years, from ’73 to ’82. That’s actually a long time in TV terms.
In the late ’90s, he came back for three years with “The Late Late Show.” It was OK, but it didn’t have the magic of “The Tomorrow Show” in its heyday.
Snyder’s death this week unleashed a surprising flood of nostalgia. But the more you think about him and his show, he deserved better.
He was fun and funny. If he was angry or emotional, he didn’t try to hide it. He was more of an average guy than a star, and that was endearing.
He was the kind of host who made his guests comfortable and let them talk. And that is the goal of a talk show, to let folks like us listen to an author or an astronaut as if we were in a living room with him.
Sleep well, Tom. You sent a lot of people to snoozeland after your shows. Now it’s your turn.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Tom Snyder
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Name game
As expected, Bernard Hopkins outpointed Ronald Wright in their light-heavyweight bout last weekend in Las Vegas. Even though Hopkins was 42 and — like most older fighters — had come out of retirement, he had Wright on the defensive the whole 10 rounds.
I wasn’t surprised. You see, Wright’s nickname is “Winky.” A boxer with a nickname like that is never going to go far. Especially against a pugilist nicknamed "The Executioner."
In fact, that’s a problem these days — lousy nicknames for boxers. Need I mention Eric “Butterbean” Esch. What’s he supposed to do, smother you in gravy?
Back in the day, it wasn’t like this. Fighters had fearsome names, and you thought twice about climbing into the ring with them.
I’m talking Larry “The Easton Assassin” Holmes, James “Bonecrusher” Smith and John "The Beast” Mugabi.
Then there’s the greatest boxing nickname of all time, Carl “The Truth” Williams.
I just hope Osama bin Laden isn’t sitting in a cave somewhere in north Pakistan thumbing through the sports pages and saying, “Look, Abdul, the Americans have a fighter named ‘Jerry “Wimpy” Halstead.’ Let’s launch another attack on these weakling infidels.”
Just once, I like to see Osama get leveled by Mitch “Blood” Green. Then he’d know we weren’t a country to be trifled with.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Good commish, bad commish
You can call this the tale of the two sports commissioners. One made a good call, one dropped the ball.
Commissioner A, otherwise known the NFL’s Roger Goodell, has reacted well since the words “Michael Vick” and “dogfighting” started appearing in the same sentence.
On Monday Goodell told Vick to stay away from the Atlanta Falcons’ training camp, at least for the time being. Goodell correctly noted that while the judicial system will judge Vick’s guilt or innocence, the NFL has different standards.
Goodell wants to determine if Vick’s conduct, even if it wasn’t criminal, violated the league’s personal conduct policies. Vick will keep drawing his salary, which is fair too.
Right on, Roger. I think Vick should be allowed to play this season — unless he pleads out, which might become more likely as this case approaches trial. If Vick is guilty, he needs to face up to that reality and cut the best deal he can get to resume his career and life ASAP.
For now, however, a little sit-down from the NFL is in order. Goodell’s action also prevents the Falcons from suspending Vick for four games, which was the team’s intentions. That would be rash, given that Vick hasn’t even been arraigned yet. (That happens Thursday.)
Goodell’s counterpart in Major League Baseball hasn’t been so smart this week.
Bud Selig surprised — and disappointed — a lot of people by announcing that he will tag along until Barry Bonds breaks Henry Aaron’s home run record.
“Out of respect for the tradition of this game, the magnitude of the record, and the fact that all citizens in this country are innocent until proven guilty, I will attend Barry Bonds’ next games to observe his potential tying and breaking of the home run record, subject to my commitments to the Hall of Fame this weekend,” Selig said in a statement today.
Uh, Bud, if you really want to respect the tradition of the game, you’d tell BALCO Barry to buzz off. As commissioner, you don’t have to follow that innocent-until-proven-guilty line off a cliff. You still have discretion and common sense — or at least I thought you did.
If so, you would have released the following statement:
“Even though Barry Bonds has not been convicted of using performance-enhancing drugs, there is a mountain of circumstantial and anecdotal evidence that indicates he did. It is impossible to ignore this evidence and pretend that this is just another record-breaking event. As long as this suspicion hangs over Bonds, I will neither support him or criticize him in public — or appear in the same stadium with him.”
Hank Aaron is making sure that he will be elsewhere when No. 756 clears the wall. Selig should have sided with his old friend from the Milwaukee Braves days on this one.
Friday, July 20, 2007
You go, goddess
Normally, I’m a by-the-book guy. But every now and then, you have to cut somebody some slack. That’s why I’m applauding the Nepalese authorities who have agreed to review their decision to strip a 10-year-old girl of her title of “living goddess” by breaking tradition and traveling overseas.
As you’ve heard a thousand times by now, Sajani Shakya journeyed to the United States last month to promote a documentary about, well, the centuries-old tradition of Nepal’s living goddesses.
What the heck did you think she would promote, the benefits of throwing a curve ball in the dirt when you’re ahead in the count? For gosh sakes, she’s a living goddess in Nepal, and she’s only 10!
Anyhow, that’s a no-no in Nepal. If you’re a living goddess, you can’t leave the country — even though I personally would think that a living goddess could do anything she darned well pleased. Hey, what part of “living goddess” don’t you get?
Fortunately, cooler heads may prevail in the mile-high kingdom scrinched between India and China.
Jaiprasad Regmi, chief of the government trust that oversees the living goddesses, was quoted by the Associated Press as saying, “We are consulting with elders, priests and culture experts on whether it was appropriate for the living goddess to break tradition and leave on a trip.”
Right on, Mr. Regmi!
I’m sure that being a living goddess is fun and all that, but sometimes you want a break from the same old same old. And as you well know, being a living goddess is not a piece of cake.
Again I refer you to the Associated Press:
“Living goddesses are worshipped by both Hindus and Buddhists. The girls are selected between the ages of 2 and 4 after going through several tests.
“They are required to have perfect skin, hair, eyes and teeth, and should not be afraid of the dark. They wear red, pin up their hair in topknots and have a ‘third eye’ painted on their forehead.
“Devotees touch the girls’ feet with their foreheads, the highest sign of respect among Hindus in Nepal.”
I don’t know about you, but after being worshipped endlessly, I think I’d want a change of scenery.
Apparently, the head honchos in Nepal are thinking of restoring Sajani’s title because thousands of her followers were cheesed off. Who says you can’t fight City Hall anymore?
Why can't we just pretend the whole thing never happened?
Look, living goddesses have to relinquish their titles anyway when they reach puberty. It’s tough being told you’re over the hill when you’re 12.
Let’s not give the girl any more grief.
… Now if you want to pass around a petition asking Queen Elizabeth to step down, count me in.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Mike's mess
To: Michael Vick
From: Me
Subject: That unfortunate federal indictment for dogfighting that just landed on you like a 300-pound lineman who slipped a block.
Message: Mike, you’d better hope that this is one biiiggg misunderstanding. If it’s not, you have just done one of the dumbest things by a professional athlete since Ricky Williams walked away from the Dolphins.
On paper, you’re innocent until proven guilty and all that, but I gotta tell you, this one looks bad.
I read the recent Sports Illustrated cover story on the dogfighting operation in Virginia that you just happened to own. Then I read the news stories on the indictment handed down to you and three other guys. If I were you, I think I’d have trouble drifting off to sleep at night.
The indictment goes into great deal about the alleged dogfighting scheme — how you supposedly bought the property in 2001, set up a kennel for pit bulls and then went about acquiring all the odds and ends needed to train fighting dogs and prepare the property for nighttime events.
The indictment even lists the names of some of your dogs — “Seal,” “Maniac” and “Zebro.” (I guess a fella wouldn’t name a crazed fighting beast something like “Rover” or “Spot.”)
With all that detail, it sounds to me like somebody on the inside rolled over and is about to testify against you, but maybe I’ve been watching too many episodes of “Law and Order.” (By the way, whatever happened to that Fred Thompson guy who used to play the D.A. on that show?)
The Web site for two of your companies, Mike Vick K-9 Kennels and MV7 Inc. (your initials and jersey number) described the dogs as “family pets.”
“We do not promote, support or raise dogs for fighting, “ the Web site said before being mysteriously taken down, “and will not knowingly sell, give or trade any dog that may be used for fighting.”
Let’s hope so, Mike. Meanwhile, I have five words of advice for you:
Get a good defense lawyer.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Paper chase
One of the many important functions of this blog (insert your own joke here) is to point out that some things are not a good idea even though lots of really smart people are telling you it is a good idea.
Exhibit A this time would be an automatic toilet-paper dispenser.
According to the Associated Press, “A year in the works, the electronic tissue dispenser is being rolled out to the masses by Kimberly-Clark Professional as it seeks to capture more of the $1 billion away-from-home toilet paper market. The company believes most people will be satisfied with five sheets — and use 20 percent less toilet paper.”
Several thoughts immediately come to mind:
1) What on earth is the “away-from-home toilet paper market”?
2) Why does Kimberly-Clark believe that “most people will be satisfied with five sheets”? On second thought, I don’t want to know.
3) And, from a factoid later in the article, why do “Americans typically use twice as much toilet paper as Europeans”?
I don’t know about you, but I am not flushed with excitement over this news.
It is slightly encouraging to know that this fancy electronic toilet paper dispenser has some fallbacks.
It has an emergency feed button. It also has a manual feed roller. Some models will even have a “rescue roll” on one side of the machine.
That, I believe, is the way God intended us to use toilet paper. Simple, non-electronic and effective.
The prospect of being trapped in a toilet stall and frantically waving your hands under the motion sensor trying to get a few lousy sheets of paper is not something I am looking forward to.
I’m sure that back in the good ol’ days, some codger grumbled that the upshift from corncobs to the Sears catalogue in the outhouse was an questionable interface for the new platform.
All I know is that if you combine Murphy’s Law with Montezuma’s Revenge, you are in what the first President Bush used to call deep doo-doo.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Bye-bye, Barry
Finally, it is over — and I’ve never said that before about a baseball all-star game, even when the contests weren’t that riveting. (And they usually aren’t.)
This year’s was tough to take because it turned into a Barryfest. First the jerk makes the starting lineup with a last-minute surge of votes. Huh? The guy is booed like Osama bin Laden in every visiting park he plays. The Bay area must be more populous than I thought.
And of course it was in San Fran, and Barry totally piggybacked on the location this year. If you’re talkin’ baseball in San Francisco, it was Willie Mays back then and Balco Barry now. He gets to slide into the spotlight and act like he belongs there.
If the all-star game had been in Cincinnati or Seattle, all that nonsense about Barry being worshipped as “the game’s greatest hitter” would have been squelched. Instead, fans would be talking about what they should be talking about:
Will he be indicted for perjury and/or tax evasion. … Will Bud Selig summon up the gumption to be somewhere else when No. 756 is hit? … Wouldn’t you love to see him drilled in the ribs by a fastball just on general principles?
Whatever. It’s over, and thank God he didn’t hit one into McCovey Cove. He went 0-2. The only thing that would have been better was if he had made an error or struck out swinging wildly.
But I won’t be greedy. It’s enough that he wasn’t the “hero” of this game. It’s done, and now he is headed to another third-place finish on a team that can’t win precisely because it has this highly paid slugger who drives off other talent (like Jeff Kent) with his ego and his insults.
On the other hand, it’s back to the dreaded countdown to 756. Wake me when it’s over. Meanwhile, I’m cheering for the grand jury in San Francisco.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
No guts, no glory
Like Joltin’ Joe’s 56-game hitting streak, you knew it had to come to an end eventually.
In the pit of your stomach, you knew that Takeru Kobayashi would choke — literally or figuratively. For six long years, he had outeaten anyone or anything at the annual Fourth of July Nathan’s hot dog competition on Coney Island.
Finally, he met his master. Joey Chestnut, an up-and-coming challenger on the professional eating circuit, downed 66 dogs ’n’ buns in 12 minutes. It wasn’t pretty — really, it wasn’t — but it was efficient.
Poor Kobayashi set a personal record of 63 — 9½ over his previous max — but it was three dogs shy of a championship load. He actually put away a few more, but he had what is tactfully referred to as a “reversal.” That unfortunate upchuck ratcheted his final total back to a mere 63.
But, oh the humanity … and the heartburn. The carnivorous competitors were actually tied with 60 dogs with one minute to go. Yet true champions emerge in the fourth quarter or the ninth inning, and Chestnut was determined to prove that he deserved a table in the Food Hall of Fame.
He just kept funneling franks into his gigantic gullet, and soon Kobayashi was kaput.
This year, it would be the 23-year-old Californian who proudly strapped on the mustard yellow belt that is the Stanley Cup of chowhounds.
If that spectacle didn’t bring a tear to your eye (or a rumble to your tummy) you’re made of sterner stuff than me. It was a food fight for the ages, a gut-check moment that will never be forgotten.
… Until next year, when the rematch is set, and it’s time to either belly up to the bar or let the butterflies in your stomach take over.
Does Chesnut — and his mid-section — have what it takes? Has Kobayashi cratered, or will he gobble more glory?
We’ll all know in 365 days. Until then, I’ll take mustard on mine, not catsup. And one is OK. I can put away 60 of ’em too … but it will take me a couple of months.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Freedom, here and there
On our country’s 231st Fourth of July, as we celebrate liberty, a shout-out of praise goes to … Fumio Kyuma.
Kyuma is, or was, of all things, the Japanese defense minister. He still would be if he had not said last week that the U.S. atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II were … gulp … inevitable.
This is, of course, the truth. And it is even more true that the bombings were, ironically, the most humane way to end the war in the Pacific.
If the United States had been forced to mount a conventional D-Day style invasion of Japan, the number of Japanese (and Americans) casualties would have been much, much higher.
No serious military historian — or anyone with common sense — will dispute this.
That point of view isn’t popular in Japan, however, and that’s understandable. Their country is the only one on earth to have suffered an atomic bombing — twice. Even if it was the least-bad alternative, it is going to be a sore subject.
To make matters worse — from a Japanese perspective — Kyuma was a native of … Nagasaki.
Still, it’s about time that more government officials in Japan — like their counterparts in Germany — acknowledged the evil done by their country in World War II.
Many in Japan are still trying to deny the horrible saga of the “comfort women,” the 200,000 women (and girls) forced into military brothels.
Others are trying to say that the “Rape of Nanking” in 1937 wasn’t so ghastly — that only 30,000 innocent people were slaughtered, not 10 times that number. … Yeah, I’m sure that makes the survivors feel a lot better.
After the latest flap, Nagasaki Mayor Tomihisa Taue dredged up the old myth that the atomic bombings were the “indiscriminate massacre of ordinary citizens.” Two words, pal: Pearl Harbor.
The end of World War II was the best thing to happen to modern Japan. It got rid of a wicked dictatorship that brought massive death and destruction to the homeland. It allowed Japan to become one of the world’s most advanced societies.
We celebrate the birth of our freedom on July 4. Over the years, we’ve brought liberty to a bunch of other nations, from Korea to Kuwait. Japan is on the list, too — in large part because of what happened to Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August of 1945.
Happy Fourth of July to freedom lovers in this land and across the globe!
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