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(11/14/03 4:40pm)
The moral of the story about the tortoise and the hare is that slow and steady wins the race. Last weekend, Vijay Singh and Matt Kenseth proved to be their respective sports' head tortoises.\nSingh wrapped up the PGA Tour Money List title by finishing tied for fifth at the Tour Championship. He became the first player other than Tiger Woods to win the money title since 1998. Furthermore, he helped his chances to win the PGA Tour Player of the Year Award, which is voted on by his fellow players. Making 26 of 27 cuts this year, Singh earned $7,573,907.\nKenseth, meanwhile, clinched the NASCAR Winston Cup points title -- maybe the saying should be fast and steady wins the race -- with his third place finish at the Pop Secret Microwave Popcorn 400 at North Carolina Speedway in Rockingham. (Sheesh, you wonder if NASCAR might get a corporate tie-in one of these days.) The points title was the first of his career.\nBoth Singh and Kenseth are late bloomers. Singh, 40, has been a pro since 1982. Kenseth, 31, didn't get a Winston Cup ride until 1999. Prior to driving on the Busch series in 1998, Kenseth thought he might be headed back to the regional circuits.\nBoth come from places not considered likely to produce top notch athletes in their sport. Singh comes from Fiji, an island nation with less than a handful of golf courses. Kenseth comes from Cambridge, Wis., a town of 1,100 nowhere-close-to-the-good-ol'-boy epicenter of stock car racing.\nThe most noteworthy comparison, though, has to do with their keen desire to compete. Kenseth won only one race, becoming the first driver since Benny Parsons in 1973 to win the points title despite winning only once. (Nobody has ever won the points title despite going winless.) Singh never claimed dominance over Tiger Woods -- Tiger won more money per tournament competed -- but won four times and hung in there in dozens of others.\nKenseth started slowly, finishing 20th in the Daytona 500. After that, he was on the lead lap often, finishing third, first, fourth, eighth, second, sixth and ninth in his next seven races respectively. He took a lead he wouldn't relinquish.\n Singh made 26 of 27 cuts this year. He missed a paycheck only at The Players Championship, perhaps the most prestigious non-major, but he came back two weeks later to finish tied for sixth at The Masters. In fact, he didn't win any major and finished in the top 15 in only The Masters and the British Open, where he tied for second behind Ben Curtis.\nHe had the strongest finish among everybody on the PGA Tour. He finished in the top six in each of his last eight tournaments, including wins at the John Deere Classic and the Funai Classic at the Walt Disney World Resort. At the season-ending Tour Championship, Singh finished tied for fifth while Woods finished 26th out of 31 competitors. \nBoth also have their critics. Kenseth's critics believe that his points title de-emphasizes winning. Given that Ryan Newman won eight races while Kenseth won just one, shouldn't Newman get more credit? However, Newman finished 38th or worse four weeks in a row at one point also.\nDespite the disparity in victories, Kenseth still has had the more impressive year. What must be considered is how demanding the races are from week to week and the different conditions Kenseth has had to race under in to be competitive every week. It's a real credit to him and his crew to make sure Kenseth has a competitive car for both the restrictor-plate races at the superspeedways like Daytona and Talladega and the tight ovals like Bristol.\nThe criticism of Singh is more personal. While participating on the Asian Tour at the 1985 Indonesian Open, tournament officials disqualified Singh for cheating. He reportedly altered his scorecard by one stroke to the better in order to make the cut. The Asian Tour eventually indefinitely suspended him.\nWhile taking a mulligan or three while playing with your friends at the IU Golf Course is one thing, cheating in a professional event is another. According to Links Magazine, Singh has never fully explained what happened. Rather, he has taken his anger out on the media, many of whom have found him to be surly.\nSingh also angered many by saying that he would rather withdraw than play with Annika Sorenstam at the Colonial back in May and that he hoped Sorenstam missed the cut. His comments were too personal for many.\nBut like Kenseth, he was about focus, putting everything aside and saving his best for both the beginning and end of the year.
(08/08/03 5:31pm)
For a long time, The Vulgar Boatmen were out of sight, out of mind. Along with the La's, they were one of those late '80s/early '90s bands that left a meteoric flash in the night sky. And they happened to be, at least partially, from this part of the world. Did anybody know what happened to them?\nWell, as it turned out, the band, co-led by 1980s IU grad students Dale Lawrence and Robert Ray, put out the major label Opposite Sex in 1995 and disappeared. Marking their return with the compilation Wide Awake, to be released Tuesday, they've created a generous 21-song document that introduces those who missed them the first time and reminds those of what they missed.\n"Change the World All Around," "Drive Somewhere" and "Cry Real Tears" are classics no matter how few people have heard them. Lawrence and Ray set desirous and wistful lyrics to hypnotic little guitar riffs and rolling rhythms. Former member/producer Walter Salas-Humara's contribution is missed, but he set the aesthetic: perfect pop and mid-fi production that doesn't feel out of place on a dance floor.\nIt might be the one time where calling something bar band music is a compliment.
(08/08/03 5:30pm)
Feeder is an odd band. After all, its soaring, post-Pumpkins, sorta-heavy rock sounds very American but is actually made by a British trio.\nDrummer Mark Richardson, formerly of Skunk Anansie, has replaced Jon Lee, who committed suicide in January 2002. Clearly, this has affected frontman Grant Nicholas' songwriting more than the actual drumming. On Comfort in Sound, Nicholas fights with his emotions at times, but whether its his British reserve or a major label dictum to smooth out the lyrics to make all listeners identify with them, one gets the feeling he still might be holding back.\nNicholas does write above-average melodies, but years of cynicism make it sound banal anyway. This is reminiscent of, though inferior to, Dredg's El Cielo, a somewhat more clear, far more focused song cycle of almost operatic art-rock.\nNicholas co-produces the record along with Gil Norton, known for adding credibly weird sounds to major-label pop-rock records. Just listen to the Pixies' Doolittle or the Foo Fighters' The Colour and the Shape. Feeder throws in keyboards and strings to create the same effect, but it all just sounds melodramatic.\nSpurred by oddity and tragedy, Feeder wants to sound reformed. They need to try a little harder.
(08/08/03 5:25pm)
If you have seen either of the first two "American Pie" movies, you generally know what to expect.\nJim (Jason Biggs) gets humiliated in the first scene and at various points thereafter. Then, he has uncomfortable chats with his dad (Eugene Levy). Stifler (Seann William Scott) gives that what's-wrong-with-you-dorks, constipated, tense look. Sophisticated wimp Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas, your career is boarding) strikes out. Then, they throw in a little nudity, and you can guess when that's going to happen too.\nThankfully, it's still often hilarious, but they ought to quit while they're ahead as you can sense when the film begins to teeter.\nThis time, Jim asks horncat/flautist/girlfriend Michelle (Alyson Hannigan) to marry him. She says yes, and Fred Willard and Deborah Rush play her hard-to-please parents, who only seem more so since Jim is always worried about messing up. Michelle's sexy sister Cadence (January Jones) is a priss who provides a way for an uninvited Stifler to ingratiate himself upon the festivities.\nThe scenes and characters are so down pat that while Jesse Dylan is listed as director, it moves along like on autopilot. The real star, though, remains Adam Herz's writing. If anything, he's made this film a little raunchier, perhaps just to top himself.\nWith outrageous gags serving as the reason to see the film, the cast isn't so important. Thomas Ian Nicholas's Kevin is in this film, but he has very little to do. Perhaps he was the only one from the previous films who didn't get the hint: Tara Reid, Natasha Lyonne, Chris Klein, Shannon Elizabeth and Mena Suvari are all not in "American Wedding." Only Elizabeth's character, Nadia, is even acknowledged, and even that occurs only briefly.\nThe film sticks with its comedic strengths, riding them for as many laughs as possible while throwing in just enough genuine feelings that create these films' unique temperament. Specifically, those strengths would be Stifler and Jim's dad, Stifler handling all the moments that require him to be the life of the party and Jim's dad handling all the private agony. In fact, Jim's dad even helps out Michelle after she comes up with a case of wedding vows writer's block. It's a somewhat mushy scene but redeemed by Michelle's hysterical synonym for lovemaking, said with an especially straight face.\nFor fear of spoiling the fun, details must be spared. I will say Stifler gets victimized as part of a gag that's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen on film. The cream puff scene in "National Lampoon's Van Wilder" is "The Wizard of Oz" compared to this scene. Also, when characters get caught with their pants down, that is meant literally.\nThankfully, part of the occasionally conservative formula is an R rating. Anything less would be too civilized.
(08/07/03 4:00am)
If you have seen either of the first two "American Pie" movies, you generally know what to expect.\nJim (Jason Biggs) gets humiliated in the first scene and at various points thereafter. Then, he has uncomfortable chats with his dad (Eugene Levy). Stifler (Seann William Scott) gives that what's-wrong-with-you-dorks, constipated, tense look. Sophisticated wimp Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas, your career is boarding) strikes out. Then, they throw in a little nudity, and you can guess when that's going to happen too.\nThankfully, it's still often hilarious, but they ought to quit while they're ahead as you can sense when the film begins to teeter.\nThis time, Jim asks horncat/flautist/girlfriend Michelle (Alyson Hannigan) to marry him. She says yes, and Fred Willard and Deborah Rush play her hard-to-please parents, who only seem more so since Jim is always worried about messing up. Michelle's sexy sister Cadence (January Jones) is a priss who provides a way for an uninvited Stifler to ingratiate himself upon the festivities.\nThe scenes and characters are so down pat that while Jesse Dylan is listed as director, it moves along like on autopilot. The real star, though, remains Adam Herz's writing. If anything, he's made this film a little raunchier, perhaps just to top himself.\nWith outrageous gags serving as the reason to see the film, the cast isn't so important. Thomas Ian Nicholas's Kevin is in this film, but he has very little to do. Perhaps he was the only one from the previous films who didn't get the hint: Tara Reid, Natasha Lyonne, Chris Klein, Shannon Elizabeth and Mena Suvari are all not in "American Wedding." Only Elizabeth's character, Nadia, is even acknowledged, and even that occurs only briefly.\nThe film sticks with its comedic strengths, riding them for as many laughs as possible while throwing in just enough genuine feelings that create these films' unique temperament. Specifically, those strengths would be Stifler and Jim's dad, Stifler handling all the moments that require him to be the life of the party and Jim's dad handling all the private agony. In fact, Jim's dad even helps out Michelle after she comes up with a case of wedding vows writer's block. It's a somewhat mushy scene but redeemed by Michelle's hysterical synonym for lovemaking, said with an especially straight face.\nFor fear of spoiling the fun, details must be spared. I will say Stifler gets victimized as part of a gag that's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen on film. The cream puff scene in "National Lampoon's Van Wilder" is "The Wizard of Oz" compared to this scene. Also, when characters get caught with their pants down, that is meant literally.\nThankfully, part of the occasionally conservative formula is an R rating. Anything less would be too civilized.
(08/07/03 4:00am)
Feeder is an odd band. After all, its soaring, post-Pumpkins, sorta-heavy rock sounds very American but is actually made by a British trio.\nDrummer Mark Richardson, formerly of Skunk Anansie, has replaced Jon Lee, who committed suicide in January 2002. Clearly, this has affected frontman Grant Nicholas' songwriting more than the actual drumming. On Comfort in Sound, Nicholas fights with his emotions at times, but whether its his British reserve or a major label dictum to smooth out the lyrics to make all listeners identify with them, one gets the feeling he still might be holding back.\nNicholas does write above-average melodies, but years of cynicism make it sound banal anyway. This is reminiscent of, though inferior to, Dredg's El Cielo, a somewhat more clear, far more focused song cycle of almost operatic art-rock.\nNicholas co-produces the record along with Gil Norton, known for adding credibly weird sounds to major-label pop-rock records. Just listen to the Pixies' Doolittle or the Foo Fighters' The Colour and the Shape. Feeder throws in keyboards and strings to create the same effect, but it all just sounds melodramatic.\nSpurred by oddity and tragedy, Feeder wants to sound reformed. They need to try a little harder.
(08/07/03 4:00am)
For a long time, The Vulgar Boatmen were out of sight, out of mind. Along with the La's, they were one of those late '80s/early '90s bands that left a meteoric flash in the night sky. And they happened to be, at least partially, from this part of the world. Did anybody know what happened to them?\nWell, as it turned out, the band, co-led by 1980s IU grad students Dale Lawrence and Robert Ray, put out the major label Opposite Sex in 1995 and disappeared. Marking their return with the compilation Wide Awake, to be released Tuesday, they've created a generous 21-song document that introduces those who missed them the first time and reminds those of what they missed.\n"Change the World All Around," "Drive Somewhere" and "Cry Real Tears" are classics no matter how few people have heard them. Lawrence and Ray set desirous and wistful lyrics to hypnotic little guitar riffs and rolling rhythms. Former member/producer Walter Salas-Humara's contribution is missed, but he set the aesthetic: perfect pop and mid-fi production that doesn't feel out of place on a dance floor.\nIt might be the one time where calling something bar band music is a compliment.
(07/31/03 4:00am)
The Kills might be like The White Stripes, but a big difference is that The White Stripes are famous and The Kills are still obscure. The Kills have an outlaw personality, which might make them less viable commercially. In fact, their song "Jewel Thief" is what Bonnie and Clyde might sound like if they could rock. \nTheir guns blaze toward world domination in baby steps. Fried My Little Brains, a three-song EP containing barely more than nine minutes of music, is the Kills' latest attempt at burrowing into our conscience. \nThey do it with rudimentary tom tom drumming with no fills. The title track will cure cowbell fever, but you have to listen closely. There's no bass, making the kick drum essential. The band buries the vocals behind guitar murk and their surprisingly intricate rhythms.\nJust because they are buried doesn't mean the vocals don't receive care. They're multi-tracked, full of echo, meticulously harmonized and respectfully shared by guitarist VV and drummer Motel.\nWhile it certainly has merit and modest originality, it's hard to recommend this, though, based purely on rock for your buck. Even $5 is a lot to spend for only nine minutes of music. So would you "kill" for it?
(07/31/03 4:00am)
It's hard to root against Cheap Trick. It recorded one of rock's all-time great live albums, 1979's Live at Budokan. Ever since, the band brought its show to just about anybody who has wanted to hear it, including Bloomington five months ago.\nIts gestures towards the audience -- I still dream of catching one of Rick Nielsen's guitar picks -- are magnanimous and genuine.\nYet, to give back for all the thrills and excitement the band has given us, we need to lock the doors of every record studio in the world. Special One marks 11 straight studio duds since 1979's Dream Police.\nSpecial One sounds like Cheap Trick's attempt at a mature adult rock record. Ugh. The lyrics are often treacly. Musically, the album is dominated by soaring, overly atmospheric torch balladry. \nInstead, we have inconsistent, weird production with Steve Albini, Dan the Automator(?!) and Jack Douglas, the band's best co-conspirator trying to help, but just making things more jumbled. Also, charismatic frontman Robin Zander's vocals sound pinched. \nIf you think Cheap Trick reached the height of its powers when it recorded its huge 1988 hit ballad "The Flame," then be wary of the following two things: (1) You're wrong, and (2) You might find they even come up short of that standard.
(07/31/03 4:00am)
Fu Manchu is one of those bands that has no real songs, just a sound. Songs begin with nuclear, lysergic, instantly familiar, epic, bong-fueled, puppy-neutering guitar riffs. The listener knows what he or she is going to get.\nGo For It ... Live! is a two-disc celebration of not only the band's 1970s-derived sound but of its 1970s-derived, dazed and confused rock ethos. The best examples of this in today's music might be jam bands actually, but Fu Manchu is no jam band. It makes fairly concise, hooky songs and throws in a cover of Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla." The group takes few liberties live, though there is Scott Reeder's lengthy drum solo on "Anodizer." But heck, in its ethos, a drum solo is almost expected, as you could imagine them packing a gong.\nThe listener will notice the guitars immediately but will keep coming back for the rhythm section. Brad Davis' charging bass meshes with Reeder's drums in a powerful groove. They bring a sense of busy upkeep and treacherous doom, important, because in-the-pocket playing would make this sound too lightweight.\nTwo discs of it might overwhelm, but then again, we might not have been there.
(07/30/03 11:59pm)
Fu Manchu is one of those bands that has no real songs, just a sound. Songs begin with nuclear, lysergic, instantly familiar, epic, bong-fueled, puppy-neutering guitar riffs. The listener knows what he or she is going to get.\nGo For It ... Live! is a two-disc celebration of not only the band's 1970s-derived sound but of its 1970s-derived, dazed and confused rock ethos. The best examples of this in today's music might be jam bands actually, but Fu Manchu is no jam band. It makes fairly concise, hooky songs and throws in a cover of Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla." The group takes few liberties live, though there is Scott Reeder's lengthy drum solo on "Anodizer." But heck, in its ethos, a drum solo is almost expected, as you could imagine them packing a gong.\nThe listener will notice the guitars immediately but will keep coming back for the rhythm section. Brad Davis' charging bass meshes with Reeder's drums in a powerful groove. They bring a sense of busy upkeep and treacherous doom, important, because in-the-pocket playing would make this sound too lightweight.\nTwo discs of it might overwhelm, but then again, we might not have been there.
(07/30/03 11:57pm)
It's hard to root against Cheap Trick. It recorded one of rock's all-time great live albums, 1979's Live at Budokan. Ever since, the band brought its show to just about anybody who has wanted to hear it, including Bloomington five months ago.\nIts gestures towards the audience -- I still dream of catching one of Rick Nielsen's guitar picks -- are magnanimous and genuine.\nYet, to give back for all the thrills and excitement the band has given us, we need to lock the doors of every record studio in the world. Special One marks 11 straight studio duds since 1979's Dream Police.\nSpecial One sounds like Cheap Trick's attempt at a mature adult rock record. Ugh. The lyrics are often treacly. Musically, the album is dominated by soaring, overly atmospheric torch balladry. \nInstead, we have inconsistent, weird production with Steve Albini, Dan the Automator(?!) and Jack Douglas, the band's best co-conspirator trying to help, but just making things more jumbled. Also, charismatic frontman Robin Zander's vocals sound pinched. \nIf you think Cheap Trick reached the height of its powers when it recorded its huge 1988 hit ballad "The Flame," then be wary of the following two things: (1) You're wrong, and (2) You might find they even come up short of that standard.
(07/30/03 11:56pm)
The Kills might be like The White Stripes, but a big difference is that The White Stripes are famous and The Kills are still obscure. The Kills have an outlaw personality, which might make them less viable commercially. In fact, their song "Jewel Thief" is what Bonnie and Clyde might sound like if they could rock. \nTheir guns blaze toward world domination in baby steps. Fried My Little Brains, a three-song EP containing barely more than nine minutes of music, is the Kills' latest attempt at burrowing into our conscience. \nThey do it with rudimentary tom tom drumming with no fills. The title track will cure cowbell fever, but you have to listen closely. There's no bass, making the kick drum essential. The band buries the vocals behind guitar murk and their surprisingly intricate rhythms.\nJust because they are buried doesn't mean the vocals don't receive care. They're multi-tracked, full of echo, meticulously harmonized and respectfully shared by guitarist VV and drummer Motel.\nWhile it certainly has merit and modest originality, it's hard to recommend this, though, based purely on rock for your buck. Even $5 is a lot to spend for only nine minutes of music. So would you "kill" for it?
(01/22/03 12:31am)
I was curious over winter break as to exactly how many rock concerts I have attended. Fortunately, I have saved every ticket stub, and the number I came up with was scary. I have attended 101 concerts. \nNo. 100 was a Get-Up Kids show at the Murat Egyptian Room about two months ago. No. 101 was a Mission of Burma reunion show the following week in Chicago. No. 1 was a Tears for Fears show on a Saturday afternoon (?!) at the Star Plaza Theatre in Merillville when I was 16. \nIn between, there have been five Smashing Pumpkins shows at four different venues with three different drummers, including the Assembly Hall show they played in January 1997 -- good work, Union Board -- and its last arena show in Chicago in November 2000. I have seen Neil Young play with the Stray Gators, Crazy Horse and Booker T and the MGs. I have seen the Gin Blossoms open for Neil Young. I have seen Sonic Youth open for Neil Young and scare all the hippies in the audience to the concession stand. I have seen the Dave Matthews Band open for Neil Young. How's that for diversity in opening acts?\nI went to a Robert Plant show where a girl asked me -- completely seriously -- what band he had been in previously. I went to a Bruce Springsteen show where I was shouted down after jumping out of my seat when he started to play "Born in the USA." I went to a Lynyrd Skynyrd show where the band actually did play "Freebird." I saw a band twice in a six-month span play songs from an album that had not had its formal CD release yet -- and if you don't have it, I urge you to grab a hold of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.\nIn case I didn't have a reason to be proud, I have never been to a Woodstock, an Ozzfest or a Guns N' Roses show, and somehow, I have managed to avoid the Eagles despite easily affordable tickets.\nLooking back, the memories are fond. At the time, though, my instant reaction was one of denial and embarrassment. How could it have happened? I didn't really see the Spin Doctors headline a show with Soul Asylum and the Screaming Trees, two far superior bands, as openers. Oh, yes I did. I didn't really see the Cranberries at the IU Auditorium to impress a girl, did I? That number of concerts just sounds like too many. Couldn't I have been doing something better with my time and money? At some point doesn't the law of diminishing returns exist to limit my enjoyment? \nAfter 101 shows, have I become overly critical and unable to enjoy a show on its purest terms?\nThe answers to those questions are no, no and no, respectively. Going to concerts is something I love to do. I gave up on my baseball card collection when I was 16 to free up money to buy concert tickets. I worked jobs with the ability to buy tickets in the back of my mind. I have always worried about the law of diminishing returns, but after seeing Mission of Burma, three guys in their mid-40s with no chance of ever becoming a popular mainstream band, rock a small theater as if their lives depended on it, my joy of concert-going was revived and as high as ever. As for being overly critical, well, that's just another word for snob, and I don't think being five years older than 95 percent of the audience at a Green Day concert makes me a snob.\nThe whole self-doubt issue got raised in two films that I saw last weekend, both of which have opened to high critical praise. "About Schmidt" focuses on a man who realizes after his retirement, the death of his wife and the wedding of his daughter that he has wasted his life. "Adaptation" is about a famous screenwriter who develops severe writer's block related to his inability to turn a famous book into a screenplay.\nThe main characters in both movies have their self-loathing derived from loneliness, the same qualities expressed in Smashing Pumpkins songs that compelled me to see them five times and buy all their albums. In the end, though, your heart and mind directs your nature.\nAs Nicolas Cage's alter ego brother character says in "Adaptation," "We are what we love, not what loves us"
(01/22/03 12:05am)
Spoon, an independent pop-rock trio from Austin, Texas, makes music that is bouncy on the surface. Close listening reveals that Britt Daniel, the band's lead vocalist and main songwriter, has written some downtrodden lyrics. Combined with the band's tamer sound, it's not the equal of 1998's Series of Sneaks, the band's best effort. Jittery, staccato rhythms dominate the album on songs like "Small Stakes" and "Jonathon Fisk," and they are often married to spare, gloss-free keyboard figures. It's a joy to hear a keyboard on a rock album these days that doesn't sound like it was multi-tracked to the moon. While Daniel tries to be literate like Elvis Costello, he clearly admires the hipster-soul singing style of Paul Weller. Daniel's guitar has lost the edge shown on previous albums, which his deceptively dark tunes. "The Way We Get By" is about drug abuse. "All the Pretty Girls Go to the City" has an upbeat, catchy chorus but appears to be about prostitution. The key for Spoon in the future will be to have edgier sounds to match up with its dark musings.
(01/16/03 5:00am)
Spoon, an independent pop-rock trio from Austin, Texas, makes music that is bouncy on the surface. Close listening reveals that Britt Daniel, the band's lead vocalist and main songwriter, has written some downtrodden lyrics. Combined with the band's tamer sound, it's not the equal of 1998's Series of Sneaks, the band's best effort. Jittery, staccato rhythms dominate the album on songs like "Small Stakes" and "Jonathon Fisk," and they are often married to spare, gloss-free keyboard figures. It's a joy to hear a keyboard on a rock album these days that doesn't sound like it was multi-tracked to the moon. While Daniel tries to be literate like Elvis Costello, he clearly admires the hipster-soul singing style of Paul Weller. Daniel's guitar has lost the edge shown on previous albums, which his deceptively dark tunes. "The Way We Get By" is about drug abuse. "All the Pretty Girls Go to the City" has an upbeat, catchy chorus but appears to be about prostitution. The key for Spoon in the future will be to have edgier sounds to match up with its dark musings.
(01/16/03 5:00am)
I was curious over winter break as to exactly how many rock concerts I have attended. Fortunately, I have saved every ticket stub, and the number I came up with was scary. I have attended 101 concerts. \nNo. 100 was a Get-Up Kids show at the Murat Egyptian Room about two months ago. No. 101 was a Mission of Burma reunion show the following week in Chicago. No. 1 was a Tears for Fears show on a Saturday afternoon (?!) at the Star Plaza Theatre in Merillville when I was 16. \nIn between, there have been five Smashing Pumpkins shows at four different venues with three different drummers, including the Assembly Hall show they played in January 1997 -- good work, Union Board -- and its last arena show in Chicago in November 2000. I have seen Neil Young play with the Stray Gators, Crazy Horse and Booker T and the MGs. I have seen the Gin Blossoms open for Neil Young. I have seen Sonic Youth open for Neil Young and scare all the hippies in the audience to the concession stand. I have seen the Dave Matthews Band open for Neil Young. How's that for diversity in opening acts?\nI went to a Robert Plant show where a girl asked me -- completely seriously -- what band he had been in previously. I went to a Bruce Springsteen show where I was shouted down after jumping out of my seat when he started to play "Born in the USA." I went to a Lynyrd Skynyrd show where the band actually did play "Freebird." I saw a band twice in a six-month span play songs from an album that had not had its formal CD release yet -- and if you don't have it, I urge you to grab a hold of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.\nIn case I didn't have a reason to be proud, I have never been to a Woodstock, an Ozzfest or a Guns N' Roses show, and somehow, I have managed to avoid the Eagles despite easily affordable tickets.\nLooking back, the memories are fond. At the time, though, my instant reaction was one of denial and embarrassment. How could it have happened? I didn't really see the Spin Doctors headline a show with Soul Asylum and the Screaming Trees, two far superior bands, as openers. Oh, yes I did. I didn't really see the Cranberries at the IU Auditorium to impress a girl, did I? That number of concerts just sounds like too many. Couldn't I have been doing something better with my time and money? At some point doesn't the law of diminishing returns exist to limit my enjoyment? \nAfter 101 shows, have I become overly critical and unable to enjoy a show on its purest terms?\nThe answers to those questions are no, no and no, respectively. Going to concerts is something I love to do. I gave up on my baseball card collection when I was 16 to free up money to buy concert tickets. I worked jobs with the ability to buy tickets in the back of my mind. I have always worried about the law of diminishing returns, but after seeing Mission of Burma, three guys in their mid-40s with no chance of ever becoming a popular mainstream band, rock a small theater as if their lives depended on it, my joy of concert-going was revived and as high as ever. As for being overly critical, well, that's just another word for snob, and I don't think being five years older than 95 percent of the audience at a Green Day concert makes me a snob.\nThe whole self-doubt issue got raised in two films that I saw last weekend, both of which have opened to high critical praise. "About Schmidt" focuses on a man who realizes after his retirement, the death of his wife and the wedding of his daughter that he has wasted his life. "Adaptation" is about a famous screenwriter who develops severe writer's block related to his inability to turn a famous book into a screenplay.\nThe main characters in both movies have their self-loathing derived from loneliness, the same qualities expressed in Smashing Pumpkins songs that compelled me to see them five times and buy all their albums. In the end, though, your heart and mind directs your nature.\nAs Nicolas Cage's alter ego brother character says in "Adaptation," "We are what we love, not what loves us"
(01/15/03 4:33am)
If Martin Luther King, Jr. was around to celebrate his 74th birthday, he would learn that racism in sports is present and that cultural differences lead to debate.\nWe are to consider it progress that it isn't overt, and that some hillbilly from Martinsville isn't running the Big Ten or some other large sports organization. However, it is subtle, a little divisive and a little offensive to those finding the progressive oasis in an unfeeling desert.\nOne of the overblown issues in professional sports over the last year has been 49ers wide receiver Terrell Owens' increasingly theatrical touchdown celebrations. Owens is so good that we get to see him celebrate a lot; he had 44 touchdowns the last three seasons including the playoffs. The highlight of him pulling out a highlighter -- actually, it was a Sharpie -- and signing the ball after scoring a touchdown in a Monday night game against Seattle in October brought outrage to those who felt that Owens was somehow desecrating the game and insulting the competition.\nThe NFL had no problem with Owens pulling out the pen but did fine him $5,000 for the heinous crime of leaving his shirttail untucked. Talk about a way around political correctness. \nEvery time Bears wide receiver David Terrell scored a touchdown, he went through enough choreography to make it seem like he was auditioning for "Grease." So offended were some fans that they were still complaining about it at the end of the season even though Terrell missed the last half of the season with a foot injury and even though a Bears touchdown was worth not a dance but a ticker tape parade. "Act like you've been there before," Terrell's critics argued.\n"Act like you'll never get there again," I say.\nAnother funny Bears story happened later in the season when the Bears had to put Henry Burris, who is African-American, in at quarterback after quarterbacks Jim Miller and Chris Chandler got hurt. Burris was totally inept, throwing four interceptions against Tampa Bay in his first start, a 15-0 loss. Listen to sports talk radio in Chicago the next day, and many African-Americans called in, giving the impression that Burris was not a 27-year-old Canadian Football League journeyman but in fact the next Brett Favre, who by the way wasn't impressive either starting out. This definitely points out the belief that many fans have that African-American players don't get a fair shake.\nHumility and stoicism are commandments for many whites when teaching the right white way to play. Don't stare at your home runs. Don't spike the football. Don't dance on the scorer's table, even if your team just hit a three-pointer at the buzzer to beat the No. 1 team in the nation. \nAlso, the common implication that hockey players are real men because they get their front teeth knocked out and get right back in the game, is interesting since of all our major pro sports leagues, the NHL is the one that has done little to attract an African-American audience.\nThe case of LeBron James' Hummer is also grounded in racism. James, the nation's consensus top high school basketball player at St. Vincent-St. Mary High School in Akron, Ohio, raised suspicion after his mom obtained a bank loan and bought him a tricked-out SUV with three TVs and video-game compatibility as a gift. The Ohio High School Athletic Association has asked for a written report as they try to determine whether James is guilty of "capitalizing on athletic fame by receiving money or gifts of monetary value.''\nThat sounds like a racist rule. If a white person is considered the top high school player, and he gets an SUV as a gift, would we call that capitalizing on his fame or being rewarded for his hard work? What if the white guy comes from a two-parent household where both parents have jobs?\nJames, who almost certainly will skip college and be the No. 1 pick in this June's NBA Draft, will, barring something very unforeseen, get his SUV eventually; if a bank is willing to give the okay to James' mother's bank loan application, then why should the OHSAA step in? This is especially so in James's case where everybody is trying to profit off him, from pay-per-view TV that televises all James's games to ESPN: The Magazine, to the shoe company that has put its gigantic logo on St. Vincent-St. Mary's uniforms.\nFinally, there is the advice that even Dr. King might relate to all his African-American followers: Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be college football coaches.
(12/09/02 3:39am)
Have college sports come to this?\nWhen Dartmouth announced it was going to discontinue its swimming and diving teams due to budgetary reasons, a swimmer's boyfriend came up with quite the creative solution: He put the team up for sale on eBay.\nThe eBay people found out about this and quashed it since the boyfriend was not the rightful owner to begin with. Too bad. What is an Ivy League degree worth today anyway if you can't swim?\nThen came the news of Bill Byrne's resignation as athletics director at Nebraska to take the same job at Texas A&M. Byrne once noted that he only listened to "boosters of substance and influence" when evaluating Nebraska's football staff. Since when did donating a lot of money to a university make one a football expert? By the way, Nebraska fired three defensive coaches this week just before Byrne left, causing wealthy people throughout Nebraska to rejoice.\nByrne also received criticism saying he focused on non-revenue sports too much at the expense of football. Yeah, shame on him for supporting non-revenue sports, as if the fact that the Nebraska football team is the biggest team in the state means they need even more attention.\nSpeaking of Texas A&M, they were so below board with their hiring of new football coach Dennis Franchione that the school's 12th Man booster club registered several Internet domain names including aggiecoachfran.com and aggiecoachfran.net several days before they fired then-coach R.C. Slocum, according to espn.com. That was also when Franchione was still coach at Alabama. As for Franchione, others shouldn't blame him for leaving Alabama for Texas A&M since A&M gave him a considerable raise and a job with less pressure. But if Franchione sees what happened with this Web site though, he might want to wonder what the boosters will do if he has a couple of bad seasons.\nThe Michigan basketball program's self-imposed one-year ban on post-season play continues to look laughable as Michigan lost by 22 points to Duke Saturday, dropping their record to 0-6. They wouldn't qualify for the post-season in an intramural league. Among the losses, they lost at home to Western Michigan and Central Michigan, and their next game is against Bowling Green, a team they lost to last season.\nLouisiana State forward Shawnson Johnson also had one of those weeks. He decided to quit the team in the middle of a game, walking from the bench to the locker room. I bet other colleges are falling over themselves to grab this ultimate team player.\nJohnson leaving the men's basketball team wasn't the only big news in Baton Rouge. LSU women's basketball coach Sue Gunter called her team's play against Alabama State "lethargic" and said the team "didn't play well on the offensive end." Did I mention that LSU won, 65-19? If LSU was "lethargic," what in the world was Alabama State? Worm food? My goodness, Alabama State scored 19 points! At least Gunter had the good sense to say, "I shouldn't complain and be glad we won."\nI don't know what these guys were smoking, but it might have come from Arizona tight end Justin Levasseur, who was arrested in Geneseo, Ill., last week on drug possession and trafficking charges after being caught in a van with 87 pounds of marijuana. Former NFL lineman Nate Newton might find Levasseur amateurish having been arrested twice driving vans carrying a combined 388 pounds of pot, but I want to know what a University of Arizona student from Antioch, Calif., is doing 140 miles west of Chicago when he should be in school. Somebody should take the proceeds from the sale of the weed and use it to buy Levasseur a map and some textbooks.\nWhile the women's soccer team at North Carolina lost to Santa Clara in the Final Four last weekend, coach Anson Dorrance had other problems. The Tar Heels, who have won 17 of the 21 all-time women's soccer national championships, have dominated women's soccer since gaining NCAA recognition. However, two former players' sexual harassment lawsuit against Dorrance was not dismissed in federal court. Melissa Jennings and Debbie Keller claim that Dorrance asked questions about their sex lives, made unwanted phone calls and touched them inappropriately. Next to Iowa's wrestling program, no collegiate team might be more dominant than North Carolina's women's soccer team, and a lawsuit might embarrass Dorrance to the point where his program will enter a downhill slide.\nSo given all that's happened during a crazy week of college sports, you can see why I feel lethargic.
(12/02/02 4:13am)
When he woke up on Nov. 21, Steve Hamilton, the athletics director at Hart Lakeshore Academy in suburban Detroit, was not happy.\nHe had just seen his girls' basketball team lose its state tournament playoff opener to Walkerville High School. The loss couldn't have surprised Hamilton since the team hadn't won a game all season.\nBut the score had him seeing red. 115-2. That's right, 115-2.\n"To me, if you run up the score like that, you have to answer for yourself," Hamilton said the next day. "I have my doubts about a school that would go and run up a school by 100 points."\nActually, it was 113 points, Mr. Hamilton, but who's counting?\nBefore you get too outraged, consider this. Walkerville coach Steve Kirwin told only the three players on the team who had not scored in the first half to shoot in the second half. He never applied the team's typical pressure defense. He played girls from the junior varsity. When Lakeshore was still overmatched, he started playing girls from the freshman squad. Kirwin, who normally avoids scheduling games against helpless opponents like Lakeshore but had to play them according to the playoff bracket, ran out of ideas.\nWalkerville athletics director Ron Stoneman defended Kirwin after the game saying, "It had the potential to be really, really bad." So how many "reallys" go before "bad" when the score is only 115-2?\nIn a lot of ways, this beating is symptomatic of something larger. (Would I be writing about it if it weren't?) That is, there seems to be a large competitive disparity in women's sports. Even basketball, the most popular participant sport among American women today, has its problems.\nWhile 115-2 is outrageous, check any newspaper and look at girls' high school basketball. Hardly uncommon are games with final scores like 90-24, 75-30 or 82-19. There seems to be some sort of dichotomy going on here. One team is trying to win, and the other team has more modest goals.\nAnd events in recent days show that it is also women's college basketball that has these types of blowouts. Last Thursday, the Purdue women's team nipped Savannah State, 103-25. Last Friday, Tennessee edged Puerto Rico-Mayaguez, 136-26.\n(I think the standard punch line right about now, especially if you have watched Saturday Night Live in the last ten years would be in your best Chicago accent to say, "Wit' or wit' out Ditka?")\nWhile men may take a win-at-all-costs attitude, women have always placed a greater emphasis on participation sports and having fun. While certainly not meant as a blanket statement, women can usually derive fun from physical exercise and activity more easily.\nThere's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, though, this gets misconstrued in the expectation that we expect our female athletes to be overtly feminine, and that's not fair either. While basketball is the most popular participant sport among women, the most televised sport featuring women remains figure skating, a sport where having a fake smile is part of one's "artistic impression" score and a sport where beauty and femininity are far too emphasized at the expense of wanting to win.\nIn women's basketball, Geno Auriemma's Connecticut Lady Huskies and Pat Summitt's Tennessee Lady Volunteers have dominated the way UCLA dominated men's basketball from the mid-'60s to the mid-'70s. In the mid-'70s, the game became popular nationally. More schools started taking men's basketball seriously, and we are now at a point where 10-15 teams enter the NCAA Tournament each year with a chance to win. Who is to say it won't be this way with women's basketball?\nWell, funny I asked.\nThe Women's Sports Foundation, the leading organization in the U.S. dedicated to women's sports issues, has always made it no secret that women often have different sporting goals than men. In fact, Mariah Burton Nelson, a former pro basketball player and respected women's sports scholar, wrote the following in both Working Woman magazine and on the Women's Sports Foundation Web site: "Those of us who are too competitive -- whether we express our obsessions in athletic arenas or business meetings or around the family dinner table -- hurt ourselves: our bodies, our integrity, our chances for happiness and success. We also hurt others: the loved ones we ignore because we're too fixated on victory (and) the rivals we cheat because winning becomes the only thing."\nPerhaps the Lakeshore coach read this to the team prior to the game.