Category Archives: Pittsburgh
Things that are “uniquely Yinz”
By the numbers
It’s all about the numbers today. Looking for a good sequence of quick picks? Maybe this will be your lucky day. Here are some numbers that stood out to me today.
This week, a 3-mile stretch of the Parkway West, entering the Ft. Pitt Tunnel, was named the 9th most congested stretch of traffic in the nation. Never fear however. All eight above us are in LA and New York. So outside of NY and LA, we’re #1! Woo-hoo!
Suck it, Philly!
Last month’s announcement by President Obama in support of gay marriage was called courageous because it was seen as a move that could turn off black voters. In March, polling showed that a gay rights bill on the ballot this fall in Maryland had only 39 percent support amongst black voters. This week, the same poll revealed that 55 percent of black voters approved of the bill, with only 36 percent in opposition. That is a 36-point swing in two months. Nothing moves 36 points in two months in American politics. Nothing. The same kind of shift was identified in North Carolina, where black support of gay marriage is up 12 percent since the state changed their constitution banning it. Could it be that America is just waiting for President Obama to provide some leadership on the issue? Was his endorsement that much of a game-changer? No other issue has changed as quickly in this country as the issue of gay marriage.
Pirates’ fans love to bemoan their teams low payroll and the inequality of money in baseball. Interestingly, as of tonight, with more than 1/4 of the season in the books, of the top 5 payrolls in baseball this year, 4 are at .500 or below and 3 are in last place in their division.
Of course, big money teams can always spend money mid-season to fix what ails them, but still… $150 million won’t necessarily buy you what you think it would.
Over thirty states have or will be considering legislation that would require voters to present government-issued photo ID in order to vote. Most all of these efforts are GOP-led and are said to be necessary to prevent voter fraud. Problem is, voter fraud has not really been a big problem in this country. Rolling Stone recently reported that: “A major probe by the Justice Department between 2002 and 2007 failed to prosecute a single person for going to the polls and impersonating an eligible voter, which the anti-fraud laws are supposedly designed to stop. Out of the 300 million votes cast in that period, federal prosecutors convicted only 86 people for voter fraud – and many of the cases involved immigrants and former felons who were simply unaware of their ineligibility.” 86 people. 86 votes. Out of 300 million. Over 5 years. That’s really going to swing the election.
And for this, studies suggest that up to 11 percent of American citizens lack the proper government-issued ID, and would be required to navigate the administrative burdens to obtain it or forego the right to vote entirely. Of course, this will most significantly affect the elderly, the poor, immigrants, and college students. For instance, in Texas, you can register to vote with a handgun permit, but not a college ID. Most states now require a valid driver’s license, will accept an NRA ID as well as a hunting license, but refuse to accept a valid student ID for voting purposes. Thousands of students across the country will be denied absentee ballots as well. Why? Because it is obvious that a majority of students support President Obama. You know, I thought it was Stalin and Hitler who won elections and support by eliminating the opposition. Guess somebody has been studying history. What does it say about your party that your best chance to win is with fewer people voting?
This must be keeping NBA commissioner David Stern up at night. You know how all the big-time free agents want to go to the bright lights of the big-market teams to maximize their earning power? Problem is, that doesn’t always equal wins. Of the four teams left in the NBA playoffs, 3 of them represent the 28th (San Antonio), 40th (Indianapolis), and 50th (Oklahoma City) media markets in the country. If you were wondering, Pittsburgh is 25th. (All according to Arbitron.) You know he’s doing all he can to pray that Miami (12th) makes it to the finals. Otherwise, it could be a ratings disaster for the NBA. You can throw out the record books when Oklahoma City and Indianapolis get together!
(UPDATE: Miami won tonight. Stern will get his big market team in the East. He’s still screwed in the West. Plus, NBA is the only league without parody. While the NFL and MLB and NHL only have a handful of teams that have never won it all, half of NBA teams have never won a championship. This is a league that is comfortable with a small group of elite front-runners. Go home and get your shine box, Indy. You’re not ever winning anything in this league!)
As in 1 transformative moment. I love the picture floating around this week. It was take two years ago when a State Department employee brought his or her children to meet the President. They were each allowed one question. This little boy’s question had to do with the President’s hair. He wanted to know if the President’s hair was just like his. I guess his little brain just couldn’t believe the fact that someone with hair like his was actually the President of the United States. President Obama allowed him to see for himself. If this isn’t the iconic photo of Obama’s presidency, I don’t know what is.
“The light music of whiskey falling into a glass – an agreeable interlude.”
That’s a quote from James Joyce. Or, you can go with a more American icon…
I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down, down into my belly…
–Ron Burgundy, “Anchorman”
It’s been one of those weeks. Filled to the brim and overflowing, both at work and at home. Actually, at work at home. Besides writing posts, I haven’t had time for reading other blogs, Web sites, or news reports. I feel like I really don’t even know what’s going on out there, let alone do I have an opinion about it. Deadline pressure at work has forced me to take it home with me. If I were paid a salary, I guess one would consider that a part of the job. But since I get paid hourly, and only when actually at the office, it just seems like I’m doing stuff for free, and I hate that. But my life will be better when I can get on top of the crush and not beneath it.
On Wednesday, however, I squeezed in a short break. Two buddies and I went to the Industry Public House, a new bar and grill here in the Pittsburgh neighborhood of Lawrenceville. We’ve had a lot of these opening as of late. They have all become very trendy. They are the kinds of places where a guy like me (over 40) can feel more like an intruder than a customer. There’s the Round Corner Cantina, New Amsterdam, Eclipse, and Tamari, all filled at night with skinny jeans, strategically mismatched layers of American Apparel, and expensively ironic eye wear. You know, hipsters.
From the Tribune Review‘s article.
It was nice to discover that Industry is much more of a neighborhood joint than a see-and-be-seen pick-up emporium. Now, I’m not going in there at 11:30 on a Saturday night, but at 7:30 on a Wednesday night, it was a breath of fresh air. It’s a great layout. Huge u-shaped bar with tables (made from steel girders) on the outside. I had already had dinner, so I was only in it for the booze. But my friends had food. From all I’ve heard of their kitchen, it’s not going to win any culinary awards, but it’s not objectionable. What is prize-worthy, however, is the liquor. They have a huge selection of two things: beer and scotch — pages and pages of each. Beer-wise, they feature a full array of IPAs, stouts, and ales, including ones from the local Full Pint Brewery. They have more than 60 artisinal bourbons, and Scottish and American whiskeys.
From the Pittsburgh Magazine review.
As you know, bourbons are only made in Kentucky. Otherwise, they are basically scotch. But the added bonus is the “smoke stack.”
Pick any scotch or bourbon and for an extra three bucks, they will infuse it with your choice of three flavors of wood smoke: apple, cherry, or mesquite. Yes, we were going with this one.
I went with a mid-shelf Knob Creek Kentucky bourbon. My friend, Chris, went with the more inexpensive Wild Turkey. We both went with the mesquite wood. It just reminds me of walking around my parents’ neighborhood in Scottsdale, Arizona, in the winter, when everyone is burning mesquite in their fire places. It really makes you feel like you are in the West.
The smoke stack is quite the floor show. First comes three shots of bourbon. Then a splash of maple syrup and a few dashes of bitters. A martini strainer is put on top of the glass. The bartender then puts a few nuggets of wood on the strainer and lights it up with the power of butane.
It ‘s a bit dark for iPhone photography in the Industry Public House. But you can see my drink on the left, smoking away while he fires up Chris’ campfire. Mine has a mixer on top of it to let the smoke infuse for a few minutes. Then, he garnishes it with an orange peel and one over-sized ice cube. I like the large ice cubs. That way, the ice melts much more slowly and doesn’t water down the drink too fast.
The result is a little bit of Kentucky heaven. The flavors all mix together brilliantly. You never really taste the syrup or the bitters or even the smoke. And the smoke takes the edge off of the scotch. It’s just so smooth. I decided to follow it up with a second Knob Creek by itself (no smoke) and the first sip really knocked me back with its strength. It just underlined how smooth the first one was.
Yeah, this might become my occasional treat. I’m planning to go back and try both the cherry and apple woods at some point. Maybe I’ll try the actual Scotch from Scotland next time. And maybe next time, I’ll go hungry so that I can enjoy the pot-roast fries, drenched in gravy and bits of slow-cooked beef. Or the Catalyst Chilli. Vegetarian? Try the Truffled Fries with sage, rosemary, truffle oil, and Gorgonzola. You’re welcome. There’s huge burgers (topped with wild boar bacon?) and all sorts of other pub food fare.
Not into beer and scotch. Try the Confection: Three Olives cake vodka mixed with cake batter, chocolate liqueur, and cream, finished with an explosion of multicolored jimmies, and served in an icing-laced glass. How did I not get the memo that cake-flavored vodka is a thing? It’s probably for the best.
Check ‘em out at http://www.industrypgh.com/.
Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whiskey is barely enough.
– Mark Twain
Raise it.
What a night to be at the ballpark! For those of you not from Pittsburgh, PNC Park is THE most incredible place to watch a baseball game, according this extremely biased reviewer. And while there’s nothing wrong with a good ol’ hot summer evening — and I’m sure we will have plenty of those — I’m a big fan of cool weather, and for me, this was pretty damn close to perfection. Mrs. Bagger was a little concerned about getting rained out but the forecast only called for a scattered shower (which we had for about 5 minutes). What we did get was a great show with some spectacular moments. Oh, a they played a baseball game, too. Here are the Baggers. I emailed this pic into the stadium as instructed and it ended up on the jumbotron between innings late in the game.
My yellow-tinted computer glasses are currently my only non-broken pair of reading glasses. But the color scheme works, while also giving me a sort of John Lennon mystique, don’t you think? Mrs. Bagger with her scarf. Always channeling Coco Channel and Audrey Hepburn, that one. As the temps went down, though, that scarf became more than just a fashion accessory. We look like a couple of aging hippies.
With a rather sparse crowd in attendance, and the Nats coming to bat, I decided to wander down to the right field corner to check out the new Bowtie Bar, the Budwiser-themed bar they installed into a rather wasted space in that part of the park. I’ve gotta say, it was bigger than I imagined. Here’ s a shot looking at the bar with the playing field — and the private party — in the background.
Yes, now you can attend a Pirates game and also watch the NBA playoffs, or hockey, or The Voice, I guess. They had large portable fire heaters up there, too, but I guess it wasn’t cold enough to get those bad boys humming. Looking out the back of the bar, you get a great view up the river.
I didn’t stay for long because when I’m at a ballgame I actually like to, you know, watch the game. Plus, some incredible clouds were moving in.
This was from the aisle right outside the bar. Check out those clouds. As ominous as they seemed, you could tell that they weren’t going to do much. First, they were moving too fast to do any damage. And second, they were too low and unorganized. But they were great to look at.
What followed was a great show in the sky, as well as an ever-changing light show projected on the skyline. I couldn’t help it. Every 5 minutes the view completely shifted in shape and color, and I kept taking pictures of it. The clouds were roiling above, the setting sun was peaking through behind us and reflecting off the buildings, changing shades like a kaleidoscope, and then, finally, a pink glow stretched across the once dark gray cumulus as some sort of grand finale. My iPhone doesn’t do the colors justice, but it did okay. Enjoy the show; we sure did.
Nice, right? It made the baseball game more interesting, too. The wind was constantly swirling around, batter by batter. For one hitter the flags were blowing straight in. The very next hitter they were pointing to the right field bleachers. Then, three pitches later, they were blowing out. I couldn’t believe the flags didn’t end up completely wrapped around the poles.
The game was typical Pirates. Newly acquired Erik Bedard mowed the Nats down in 5 pitches in the first inning. But three pitches into the second inning, he was bent over with back spasms. Thus, it was a 5-man bullpen by committee for the rest of the game. The Buccos scratched across three runs in the third inning in extremely lucky fashion. It involved a dropped third strike that allowed our pitcher to take first base. There was an error, a walk, and some dribbling ground balls that eeked their way into the outfield. I almost felt bad for their pitcher because he should have been out of the inning. I almost felt bad for him. I got over it. After that inning, the Pirate offense predictably shut down. But our relief pitchers did just enough. We even shut down their rookie phenom, Bryce Harper (0-3, walk), although he made two great plays in the field to rob us of doubles. Yamaico Navarro made a great catch over the wall in left field to take away a home run. It felt like they constantly had multiple people on base and were about to break the game open, but we always got that key strikeout or pop up at just the right moment.
With us winning 3-2 in the 8th, Bucco pitcher Jason Grilli loaded the bases with 1 out. It looked bleak, but then he reached back for two strikeouts. It was also a typical game because Andrew McCutchen carried our offense. In the bottom of the 8th, already 3 for 3 on the day, Cutch went deep over the 383 ft. marker in left to give us that crucial two-run cushion. Hammer time in the ninth was nervous time. Hanrahan had blown a save the night before and his grandmother had just passed away, so he was emotional. He allowed two base runners in the ninth just to raise our blood pressure before striking out the final batter for a rather ugly Bucco win. Raise the Jolly Roger!
Hey, there will be plenty of ugly losses down the road, so don’t look down your nose at the occasional ugly win. That’s two in a row over the first place team in the East. They’ve got Strausburg on the mound on Thursday. But the Pirates have already won the series. And two tired Baggers had to scurry home because they both had to work in the morning.
The merry month of May
The princess hangs out in front of her likeness.
Yesterday was one of those days you just survive. It started with walking the dog in a downpour at 7:00 a.m. Not that I mind the rain so much, but I have a pretty prissy pet who prefers to pad down practically dry paths if practically possible. (That was fun!) Yes, my little princess (I’m done with that, now. Really.) hates wet bricks, wet mud, wet grass, and all forms of wetness in general. Walking her in the rain makes you feel like you are dragging her to the executioner. She looks at you like you have betrayed her trust at a soul level. “You were my friend! How could you?”
Then came the funeral of my boss (ex-boss), which was a beautiful service but, you know… ick. All afternoon, I labored over a manuscript with a raging headache. By 4 o’clock, I surrendered.
Hey, I’m fully aware that on a scale of bad things, this was a bad day only for someone who doesn’t have a lot of bad days. So I have a low pain tolerance for bad days. Sue me!
Bryce Harper. Somebody needs to knock that smirk off his face.
Today, however, is a new day, and a good day because I’m going to the Pirates’ game tonight. It’s my first time back to PNC since opening day, so I’m ready. At first, I was a little disappointed that the Nationals’ ace pitcher Stephen Strausburg wasn’t going to pitch until Thursday, but then I remembered how the Pirates struggle to hit against even mediocre pitching. Why would I want to see them blanked by a kid with a 100 mph fastball and some sick breaking balls? So, bring on Ross Detwiler and let’s see the Pirates take some hacks! I am excited to see their other phenom, outfielder Bryce Harper. Everybody is saying that this kid is some combination of Lou Gehrig, Pete Rose, and Barry Bonds, but with the showboating attitude of Terrell Owens. And he’s only 19 years old! Gotta get my hating reservations in early.
The Pirates have not overwhelmed anybody this year. But let me provide a couple glimmers of hope.
First, only the Seattle Mariners have played a rougher schedule this year, opponents’ winning percentage-wise. We have played all the division leaders and few of the teams in the cellar. Plus, we had ten home games and thirteen road games, including a long and demanding West Coast swing. May will be different. This month will feature 18 home games and only 10 on the road. Although we still play a lot of good teams, we also will finally see the Astros, Cubs, and Marlins. May will tell us a lot about the 2012 Pirates.
As bad as the bats were early in the season, there are signs that things may be heating up. Pedro Alvarez, who was horrendous the first two weeks, seems to be getting his timing back. In the last two weeks, he is hitting .333, with 3 HRs, 3 doubles, and 9 RBIs. (Yes, I know that RBI is plural already, but writing 9 RBI just makes you look pretentious!) Neil Walker is up to .289, Andrew McCutchen is over .300, and even Garrett Jones is up there at .279.
Last night’s heroics!
My horrible day was miraculously salvaged, however, with two events. One, seeing the Philadelphia Flyers ignominiously dispatched from the NHL playoffs by a team from over the river in New Jersey. Two, the Pirates’ stupendous, bottom-of-the-ninth, game-winning home run by, of all people… Rod Barajas. Hopefully, last night’s shot will get Barajas going, because the bottom of the order has been atrocious. Barmes, Barajas, and the pitcher has pretty much given other teams three automatic outs every time through the lineup. This has to improve.
And how about those pitchers? Last year, the Pirate pitchers were last in the majors in getting strikeouts. That means the other team puts the ball in play a lot. That’s when bad things happen. Plus, we also were near the top of the league in issuing walks. Not a good combination. This year, Neil Huntington addressed that by picking up two new strikeout starters: Erik Bedard and A. J. Burnett. Last night, Burnett notched 10 strikeouts in 8 innings, only giving up 2 runs. Unfortunately, Pirate hitters and closer Joel Hanrahan couldn’t get him the win, but at least they won it in the bottom of the ninth. This year, we are only near the bottom in strikeouts instead of at the bottom. (12th instead of 15th) And they are only 6th in the National League in giving up walks. Baby steps. But overall, Pirate pitchers have the 8th best ERA and are #3 in not allowing earned runs. Not too shabby.
I still have hopes that the bats will heat up at some point. When they do, we might in for some summer fun! Last year, the team’s best month was June. This year, I wouldn’t mind seeing them start their tear a little earlier.
See ya at the ball park!
A bittersweet Friday
Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
– Dr. Seuss
The president of the company I work for — and the man who hired me and brought me to Pittsburgh — passed away last night. It was not unexpected; the end just came a bit more quickly than anticipated. He was 83 and had been diagnosed with cancer last fall. But up until a few weeks ago, he was still coming to work every day in a suit and tie, just as he had done since the 1970s. In fact, I’m told that until this year, he had never really taken a sick day and only a few vacations — usually for mission trips. For a man who shunned retirement and was most happy when working, a quick passing is an act of mercy. Bob Sr. would have been miserable with a long, drawn-out period of hospice, tubes, and medications.
Bob’s increasing age and his penchant for micromanagement had caused us to bump heads a bit in the last few years, but I have mad respect for the life he built and the family he leaves behind. I see him as sort of the “Colonel Sanders of Christian publishing.” Like the Colonel, he started before there was an industry. He had been blessed and moved by classic Christian literature in the 1960s, a time in which there really were no “Christian bookstores.” He started out on a mission of giving books away, driving from church parking lot to church parking lot just to get them into people’s hands. Then, as things grew, he did it for cost. In 1970, he started a company in his Monroeville garage. Then, he approached pastors and offered to print their books. Today, he leaves behind six kids, twenty-six grandchildren, and a Christian publishing and distribution company that does tens of millions of dollars in sales each year. Not bad for starting from the trunk of your car.
On Wednesday, able to do nothing but lie in bed, Bob turned to Mary, his wife of 62 years, and said, “I feel like I’m standing in line at Kennywood.”
Last night, Bob Sr. began the ride of his life. Farewell, sir.
I worked at Art All Night and all I got was this awesome painting
The Baggers are nothing if not aficionados of all things art. And what is more artistic than this tasteful take on the city of Pittsburgh. Notice the neoclassic motif of the Sister’s Bridge with accents of pierogies, beer, and Mr. Rogers’ sweater. Anchored by a typical ‘Burghian set of stairs and a post-impressionistic Kennywood sign, this is a classic example of early 21st Century Ravenstahlian Pittsburgh. Oh, AND it has a freakin’ zombie! You know you have an awesome wife when she decides she wants to buy a 4′x6′ zombie/pierogie/Kennywood/MrRogers painting to hang in the living room… well, at least until the zombie starts to freak us out. And she negotiated a VERY fair price.
Perfect spot for an art show!
The Lawrenceville signature event of Art All Night (the 15th!) happened this weekend. It was at a new location, an old sheet metal fabrication factory next to the CMU robotics lab beneath the 40th St. Bridge. It was the perfect space for our “art invades industry” roots. The last two years, we had been in the old Iron City plant. It was cool looking but pretty decrepit. After being in there a few hours, it just smelled like cancer.
For the uninitiated, Art All Night began as a bunch of local artists and residents wanting to demonstrate that Lawrenceville was a safe place to be at night by holding an all night art fair that was open to everybody — one piece per person with no juries, no fees, and no censorship. Not sure it really was a safe neighborhood back then, but they put on a brave face. 
It’s much safer now, of course, and the event now brings several thousand artists and a crowd of somewhere between 10-12,000. It may have been down a little this thanks to the cold, rainy weather, as well as the fact that we can’t stand much more growth so we really didn’t advertise it anywhere beyond social media and posters this year. There are three music stages, kids activities on Sat afternoon, and free beer on Saturday night while it lasts. (You don’t need a liquor license to give out free alcohol.) Everything is free, as it’s always been. It’s been copied by cities like Washington D.C. and Trenton, but never fully duplicated. Not sure about D.C., but Trenton visited us and asked for permission to use it. We’ve been talking about trademarking the event, not to keep others from using it but to ensure that no corporate entity makes it theirs and charges for its use. We’re happy to give it away, just like everything else.
Mrs. Bagger and I signed up for the graveyard shift… midnight to 8 a.m. That’s when all the committee members who’ve been there all day fade away and they need someone in charge who can project some authority to the weird collection of “up all night” humanity. Nobody projects a more impressive facade of completely bogus authority than the Carpetbaggers. From midnight to 2 a.m., I was traffic cop at Foster and 40th. This is a 5-way intersection with a steady stream of pedestrian traffic during that period. I wore a long reflective coat and the white gloves, so everyone just assumed I was a cop. It was a little stressful trying to keep the cars from hitting the people or each other, especially the drunk drivers. As my old football coach used to say, you gotta keep your head on a swivel. We had one hit-and-run incident with an impatient driver who decided he didn’t want to wait. He gunned it, side-swiped a waiting car, and tore through the intersection just missing some pedestrians and one volunteer cop. He’s lucky I wasn’t packing. I just chalked it up to another near miss on those who Serve and Protect. Believe me, I was in need of a donut and a pension by this time.
From 2-8, I stayed in the building. By that time, the traffic had died down considerably.Here’s what it’s like to be in an art show in a factory at 3:30 a.m.
A little spooky, but also sort of serenely beautiful.
And endlessly entertaining. You’d be constantly amazed at the kinds of people who go to an art show in a factory at 4 am. It’s a wonderful array of freaks, transvestites, and wannabe punk rockers. There’s always a guy wearing all latex and a group of pirates who busk outside and then come and look at the art. All the time you’re thinking, What do these people do during the day? I’m guessing the answer is sleep.
Speaking of which, it’s going to take all week to get back on my sleep schedule. I napped on Saturday afternoon for around 3 or 4 hours. Then came home at 8:30am and slept until around 1:30. Then went back to help with artist check out. Then to bed again around 10:30pm. I was pretty exhausted all day at work today, so I’m sure I’ll be hitting the rack early again tonight. Hopefully, I’ll be back to normal by midweek. It’s all worth it though. It’s an awesome event put on by the artists and neighbors of Lawrenceville. It’s a big part of what I love so much about Pittsburgh. And I’ve got an original piece of artwork that may not be appreciated by general society today, but will be worth a bundle some day. (See Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir.)
A good walk spoiled
That’s how Mark Twain referred to the sport of golf. Yesterday was National Golf Day. And it made me realize something: I miss golf in my life. I never thought I would, but I do.
When I lived in Chicago, most of my friends loved to golf in the summer. Most were also the fathers of small children so getting out of the house for four or five hours might have had something to do with it, but still, there were ample opportunities to hit the links. Also, my job was flexible. In fact, I could often do my job while golfing with the right people.
Now, understand this. I wasn’t a good golfer by any stretch of the imagination. I had my moments. I could uncork a beautiful 200+ yard drive. I could finesse a wonderful chip shot. Perhaps even drop a decent length putt. But these were exceptions, not the rule. On my best day, I would shoot in the mid-90s for 18 holes. I didn’t golf often enough to get good at it. Maybe once or twice a month during the summer.
Occasionally, though, there were golf outings. A group of guys would get away to Wisconsin or Michigan, where we’d play three or four rounds, drink beer, eat some good meals, and stay at a rather seedy motel. Those were great times, some of my most treasured memories. For me, enjoyment of the game didn’t revolve around my score. I loved the camaraderie. I loved the beauty of the courses. I loved the feel of a well-struck shot. I loved the smell of freshly cut grass. These were all I needed to keep going back. We played at places like…
Settler's Hill in Batavia. An old garbage landfill turned into a golf course.
Arrowhead Golf Club in Wheaton. Lots of wedding receptions here, too.
The Village Links in Glen Ellyn. The course I grew up on. Long and flat. Used for qualifying for the Western Open. I think I may have killed a Canadian goose here, too. Not on purpose!
Public courses, all of them. I’m no country club snob. I don’t enjoy dropping hundreds of dollars a round. Like I said, I’m not that good. Luckily, there are plenty of quality public courses in this country that you don’t have to belong to a club. When visiting my parents in Phoenix, I would play Camelback Golf Club, in the shadow of Camelback Mountain. Gorgeous!
Just stay alert for snakes in the rough!
I have not touched a golf club since I moved to Pittsburgh almost seven years ago. Nobody has ever asked me to golf. I’m not sure I know anybody who does golf. Part of it is choosing to live in the city and not the ‘burbs, I guess. Still, I hear there is a nice course in Schenley Park. I go by a couple of courses on my drive to and from work, including a public course right next to the Oakmont Country Club.
This might be the summer that I pick up the sticks again. Let’s be honest. I’m going to stink. Muscles will have to be retrained. My head will have to remember how to stay down. I’m going to need a couple of cases of balls. And there’s a decent chance that some property damage will occur. Hey, golf is hard enough without taking a 7-year layoff when you stink to begin with! So, first will come some time at the driving range. But after that, if you hear “Fore!”… you had best heed the warning and take shelter. Because I may not hit them accurately, but I do hit them hard.
Project Runway: Uniform edition
Felt the need to lighten things up a bit today after yesterday’s heaviness. And nothing could be lighter and fluffier than meditating over sports uniforms.
Nike is taking over for Reebok in dressing NFL players this year. And their theme seems to be making the players look like speed skaters. I mean really, how much tighter can you stretch nylon around 250-350 lb. men before there is some sort of wardrobe malfunction?
I gotta say. Those Seahawks uniforms are kinda awesome. They’ve come a long way from the days of my boyhood hero, Gale Sayers. Look at the muddy forearm-length sweatshirts those guys are wearing…
And what’s with the gloves? Every NFL team now has fancy gloves that allow players to put their hands together in unnatural ways to form their team logo. You sort of have to pretend like you are doing shadow animals… or jazz hands… or something. Bet you a thousand dollars Santonio Holmes is already practicing this move with his little Jets gloves. Was this missing in pro football? Is the league that has completely outlawed any and all entertaining displays of emotion suddenly encouraging players to perform hand puppetry after touchdowns?
The Steelers’ schedule has them opening the year on Sunday night in Denver against Peyton Manning. That. Is. Awesome.
You know what’s not awesome? The Steelers’ new alternate/historic jerseys. It’s like Pugsley Addams mated with Waldo and had a special needs child.
The stripes, the numbers, the socks, the white shoes, the skin-tight Dockers… no. Just, no. Apparently it was so bad, they had to photograph Isaac Redmond wearing it in the Steelers’ bathroom. The team has foolishly committed to wearing this atrocity for two home games this year. This is sure to completely throw off Bluz Dude’s Mojo Spreadsheet in which he tracks the success of his fan apparel for each game. Bluz, we are all going to insist that you get those socks and wear them on the appropriate weeks. I don’t care how historic those things are, unless you are playing for Burt Reynolds’ team in The Longest Yard (in my world, the Adam Sandler movie never happened), you don’t get to wear stripes like that. Hey, Mr. Rooney, an attorney for all bumble bees just called and is suing your ass for patent infringement!
But stripes must be the new black. Have you seen the new unis for the U.S. men’s and women’s soccer teams?
Speaking of Waldo, maybe this design is inspired by the men’s failure to qualify for this year’s Olympics, allowing us to play Where’s the U.S. Soccer Team? all summer. Pulling off that look is no problem… if you’re twelve! Or, perhaps, if you are sailing off Nantucket with Biff and Buffy. But not if you want to look competitive while standing next to guys from the Netherlands…
Those are bad ass. They don’t look like they were designed by Little Lord Fauntleroy and inspired by a Land’s End catalog. There is one accessory that should be included with the US look.
Perfect.
Recalibrating
Every once in a while, you have rechalk the lines, align the cones, review the ground rules. Recalibrate.
Orson Wells once said, “The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.” Or, as Clint Eastwood put it, “Men must know their limitations. “
My friend Emma has a nifty blog on Blogger in which she has category tabs across the top. Each post, I assume, can be coded to fit into them, even though all the posts are aggregated on the front page. When I revamped my look here, that was one of the things I wanted to do, as a way to better focus my writing. Unfortunately, I discovered that Word Press lets you create static pages, but it doesn’t let you post onto them. So, all my posts must remain here in mish-mash fashion where you, my beloved readers, will have to sort them out for yourselves, reading what you like and ignoring what you don’t.
But, if I were able to create categories for my blog, they would probably be:
Politics — I have to live with the fact that I’m a wannabe D. C. wonk. You might as well, also. In college, I got an accidental poly sci minor because I took so many electives in that area. I never realized I had the minor until I received my diploma and opened it. Some day, that minor is really gonna pay off big time! It may as well be now! Some people hate politics and stay away. I love it. I love the fighting, the maneuvering, and the strategizing. And while I, like everyone, tire of the hypocrisy and the corruption built into the system, those usually provide for as much drama, comedy, and entertainment as you’ll find in any TV show or film. The dialog was better on The West Wing, but the story lines of real life are just as good. Politics has their heroes (you have to look close, but there are a few), villains (lots of ‘em), and victims (look in the mirror), and the plots keep changing each news cycle.
Faith– as a recovering megachurch pastor and current cohost of a house church fellowship, I think long and hard on matters of faith. If I ever get any answers, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll mostly post about the questions. Gandhi once said, “Faith is not something to grasp, it is a state to grow into.” I hope that is what I am doing.
Here again, some of you are repelled whenever people start flapping their yaps about faith or religion. Count me in, too. For the most part, it is done in a polarizing fashion. But I think there is a way to discuss faith and marvel at the mystery of what lies beyond without preaching, condemning, or demagoguing. There is a way to include reason in matters of faith. Or, as the writer Norman Cousins put it, “My reason nourishes my faith and my faith my reason.”
At least you can rest easy with the fact that most of the things dealing with religion I blog about would probably get me kicked out of any respectable church. So, come for the theological insights, stay for the wild-eyed heresy.
You see? That’s why I’ll never explode in popularity like That’s Church. Right off the bat, I prioritize the two topics you are never supposed to talk about in polite company. Oh, well, as Dalton said in the quintessential American film Roadhouse, “I want you to be nice until it’s time to not be nice.” Most of the time, I’ll try to be nice.
Pittsburgh — This is pretty much how I picture Pittsburgh in my mind’s eye.
I’m a big fan. And for a carpetbagging blogger who pays attention, it can be an endless source of people, places, and things that are interesting, infuriating, and inspiring.
Art — This is my place of retreat, especially when the Politics and Faith get me down. For me, it mostly takes the form of books, music, TV, and film, although I have been known to take a stroll through actual museums and galleries and such. One of my favorite things about living in Pittsburgh is the variety of artists I have seen, met, or gotten to know. I love the fact that bands have rehearsed and recorded in our living room. I love volunteering and working on Art All Night here in Lawrenceville. I have loved getting to know all sorts of creative people, from architects to metal sculpturers to graphic and tattoo artists to oil painters to muralists to potters to folk musicians to composers. And much more. Some do it for a living, but for others, art is the Superman to their 9-to-5 Clark Kent existence.
As much as anyone else, these are the people who feed my soul on an ongoing basis. It’s what makes me want to do and experience new things.
Sports — This is another place of refuge and escape when the real world gets me down, even if the teams I follow usually mimic the real world and beat me down even further. In Pittsburgh, “Sports” would also fit into the “Religion” category quite nicely. I, however, try to not take them as seriously as I once did. I grew up playing just about every sport there was, except for hockey and soccer. Back in the day, if I had realized that there were other jobs in professional sports besides those in the locker room, I probably would have pursued a career in a front office somewhere. Today, I can’t help seeing all these bespectacled, nerdy looking 35-year-old baseball GMs and wondering, Why did I not try to do that?
Oh well, my fantasy teams usually get trounced, so it’s probably for the best.
Misc. — This would be for the odd things that happen to me, places I travel to, a news story that caught my eye, or plain old Seinfeldian takes on life. “Whaaat’s the deal with this?”
That’s about it. Those are the rules, and they are nonnegotiable — unless I choose to break, amend, or abolish any of them at any time. ‘Cause that’s how I roll. I am the keymaster. Are you the gatekeeper? Highlander… there can be only one. But I digress.
This post was more for me than for you. After all, what do you care what my rules or topics are? You just come here to amuse and distract yourself for a few minutes. But it is helpful for me to refocus. You have to know the rules in order to break them. That kind of thing. So, carry on. Move along. Nothing to see here.
UPDATE: Okay, with the help of my cousin at Stew’s Brew, I figured out a way to do these categories in a list on the sidebar. If you have a particular interest in one but not the others, you can click on the category to see posts the appropriate posts. We’re here to serve!
It’s always gloomy in Philadelphia
Nothing makes an Easter weekend more joyful, a Passover week more miraculous, or the early Spring blossoms more spectacular, than a thorough drubbing of thousands of visitors from the City of Brotherly Love.
Philly fans flooded our town in droves for 3 games between the Pirates and Phillies, and a meaningless Saturday matinée between the Flyers and Pens. And they learned a hard reality: that things are indeed quite sunny here in Pittsburgh, too.
With the 4-seed already wrapped up, forget the puck; let's give him the business!
On Thursday, I played hookey from work (a 4-day break since I already had Good Friday off) and met up with Mrs. Bagger for Opening Day at PNC.
Of course, the only game we attended was Philly’s lone victory of the weekend. It’s a good thing we don’t mind taking one for the team.
There is something magical about Opening Day that transcends all other sports. It mostly has to do with bidding a final, confident farewell to Old Man Winter as we celebrate buds and sprouts and the eating of something called Cracker Jack. There is a hope and optimism to it that is not found in any of the other sports. No matter how bad your team was, or how well you expect them to be this year, the ballpark is always packed on Opening Day. 
The players line up for introductions on the baselines, something you only ever see at All-Star games and the World Series. Then, after the first pitch, a huge cheer goes up, even if it’s just a ball outside. Thursday’s crowd at PNC was the largest baseball crowd ever — 39,585 of us. Somewhere between quarter and a third of them were Philly fans.
I knew we had our hands full with Roy Halladay on the mound. But things were looking good after the first two Pirate hitters, Presley and Tabata, got hits to start the game. Sure, one was a bunt, but first and second with nobody out… I’m now thinking, “This Halladay is a bum! He’s not fooling anybody.” Little did we know, the Pirates’ offense was done for the day. Not even a walk or error would put another Pirate on base. The only other Buccos to reach first would be when McCutchen and Barmes were hit by pitches. That was it.
The Phillies didn’t do much better. New Bucco free agent Erik Bedard looked every bit worth the price. He threw 21 out of 26 first-pitch strikes. And he looked like such a cool customer out there, with a nonchalant windup that makes him look like he’s just tossing pitches to his son in the backyard. The Phillies lone run came on a sacrifice fly to Tabata, who couldn’t throw out the lumbering Ty Wiggington even though he was shallow and running in when he caught the ball.
After the game, the Philly fans were a little mouthy. They were high-fiving and telling us how much the Pirates suck. Look, most of them had been over-served and didn’t seem up to a debate. But if one would have materialized, I would have told them that the Pirates just lost a one-run game on a sacrifice fly to the best team in the National League last year with the best pitcher of our generation on the mound. The Phillies, on the other hand, anemically squeaked by a team that, according to Philly fans, “sucks.” Given these two situations, I like our guys. But thanks for playing. Now go spend some money.
I would have liked to have seen a few more offensive fireworks on Opening Day, but given how the rest of the weekend transpired, I’ll take it.
PNC has quite few new features this year. The Bow Tie bar is in the right field atrium. This was a lost space that only served as a post-game broadcast perch last year. This is basically a bar that doubles as a huge Budweiser advertisement. They have them in several other parks this year, as well. With the park overflowing with standing-room-only crowds, I didn’t wander around too much during this game. I will explore things more thoroughly when the early crowds dissipate to the staunchly loyal die-hards. I did get to sink my teeth into one of the newest food creations… the Polish Hill Dog. Should have snapped a picture before wolfing it down, but I was starving when it arrived. It’s a footlong dog covered in slaw, brown mustard, and fried pierogies. It was darned tasty by ballpark standards, especially with the new Cajun fries.
The rest of the weekend was filled with walk-off wins for the Pirates. Somehow, the Pirates never led the Phillies with a man at bat all weekend, but still walked-off (literally) with two wins. You can call it lucky; I call it scrappy. There was no giving up with this team.
And, after dropping huge coin all weekend at our hotels, bars, and restaurants, the always cocky Philly Faithful slunk back down the Turnpike of Tears, knowing it will be a long time before they lose the sting of a painful 1-4 weekend.
All I know is, this view never gets old.
The Buccos are off on a West Coast swing that will test their mettle even further. If we are close to .500 when they return home, consider that a good omen for the early season.
Note: Most of my thoughts and experiences with the Pirates will be found on my Pirates blog: It Places the Lotion in the Basket – the story of a Pirate fan-base trapped in the cellar for a decade.
