Steel Kaleidoscopes

The Art of the Film

So here I am in Palisades, N.Y., eating two slices of New York pizza after a day of hanging out at a Showtime shoot at the 9W Golf Range. You see, Monster cut a deal with Showtime last spring, part of which includes product placement in an upcoming film short. These are the 4-5 minute segments that are run in between programming to keep the viewer engaged.

Chris Elliott ("There's Something About Mary," "Everybody Loves Raymond," among others) is the star of the short, living in a driving range ball-pickup cart, getting pelted by golf balls as he ponders a career change. He easily ad-libs, making everyone laugh except for his producer. She's all business and wants to move the production forward as it's rained off and on all morning. They're clearly behind schedule.

When I'm introduced to Chris, we shake hands and, with a full grey beard, I notice he looks older than I'd pictured him. I ask him his favorite fantasy (he's acting out three dream jobs, which, of course, he's found on Monster) and he says "none of the ones we're shooting. It does involve a cage though." Everyone laughs. Except for his producer.

A few minutes later, Jackie Martling strolls onto the set carrying an umbrella. I introduce myself and he's quite cordial, but brief. I don't feel like asking him if he regrets coming in too high when he renegotiated his contract with Howard.

So I eat a roast beef sandwich and a few cookies, hanging with the folks at Showtime and Civic Entertainment Group during an afternoon of filming. Tomorrow, we shoot the elevator fantasy with Carol Alt. Then it's back to Maynard. Never settle, right?

Cubs vs. Red Sox: A Personal Dilemma

What would you do if you were me?

Days of Innocence: Watching the Cubs:

Richard M. Nixon was in office, young American men were fighting in Vietnam and the Beatles had just broken up. What did I know? I was a pre-pubescent baseball nut, counting the hours between Cubs games. Growing up in upstate New York, the only time I could watch the Cubs was when they were on Saturday's NBC Game of the Week or if they were playing the Mets. Sometimes, if the nights were clear, I could pick up Cubs games when they were playing the Pirates in Pittsburgh, listening to Bob Prince's voice weave in and out of static.

The highlight of my summer was our annual two-week August vacation to visit my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins in Wheaton, Ill., a half-hour drive from Wrigley Field. My uncle would be sure to get us tickets for one Cubs game, and we'd pile into the car and find street parking, usually a few blocks from the shrine on the corner of Clark and Addison. I'll always remember walking through the concourse and seeing the field for the first time -- the outfield grass dazzling green while my idols played soft-toss and sprinted casually across the field.

Wrigley was the first ballpark I ever visited, and the Cubs were my first love. I remember that lineup in the early '70s: Ron Santo, Don Kessinger, Glenn Beckert, Joe Pepitone, Billy Williams, Bill North, Johnny Callahan and Randy Hundley. Fergie Jenkins was the ace, and he seemed to win 20 games every season.

Problem was, the Cubs always finished second, sometimes third, sometimes worse. In '69, they blew a huge lead to the Miracle Mets. My mother was 15 the last time the Cubs won a pennant, in 1945 against the Tigers. They haven't won a World Series since 1908, but every year Cubs fans are optimistic that they'll put together a team that is good enough to win it all. It never happens.

Days of Adulthood: Watching the Red Sox:

In '84, I moved to Boston. My undergraduate work behind me, I needed to pursue a real job. My first October in Boston, the Cubs won the NL East and faced off against the Padres for the National League pennant. In what would be the last year of the five-game league playoffs, the Cubs won the first two and lost three straight to Steve Garvey and the Padres. Stars Lee Smith and Leon (Bull) Durham played poorly in the playoffs and the Cubs were sent home once again.

But something was happening to me. I was living just blocks from Fenway Park, and going to Red Sox games was part of my new culture. My friends and I would just hop on the Green Line, buy a bleacher seat for $4 and watch some pretty good baseball. It wasn't the Cubs, but I also didn't have to wait all year to see a baseball game. I didn't have to go with my parents, I could drink beer and I could come back the next night, providing I wasn't working.

I have to admit, I got pretty caught up with the Red Sox. The '84 club had bashers like Jim Rice, Dwight Evans and Tony Armas. This new guy, Wade Boggs, was once of the purest hitters I'd ever seen. When Roger Clemens struck out 20 Mariners on a cool April evening in '86, I was hooked. The Red Sox made it all the way to the World Series in '86, something I'd never seen the Cubs do. When the Mets came from behind to win both Game 6 and Game 7, I was disappointed, but not crushed. Being a Cubs fan, ultimate failure was expected in baseball.

I became a sports reporter during the '86 season, and had the opportunity to cover several of the Red Sox games. I tried to be professional but my insides were jumping, as I was fulfilling a dream I had since second grade. I interviewed Boggs, Rice, Evans and Clemens, among many others, and saw a side of athletes I had never seen. They can be ornery and full of themselves. This gave me a new perspective on baseball, and professional sports in general. These guys are not idols; they are not icons. They are definitely not role models.

In '95, I moved out of the sports writing business and into the online publishing world. I still followed the Cubs and Red Sox, watching another Cubs playoff collapse in '89, and Red Sox playoff shortcomings in '90, '95 and '99.

Nine years removed from sports writing makes it easier to become a fan again. This is my 20th September in Boston, and I have followed this team as close as those early '70s Cubs teams. The Red Sox offense is like none I've ever seen before, all the way through the lineup. There's Manny, Nomar and Tek. Mueller and Millar. Damon, Walker, Ortiz and Nixon. Pedro and D-Lo. I had the pleasure of seeing the thriller against the Orioles last week, when Walker tied the game (Bernie Carbo style) with a three-run shot with two outs in the ninth and Ortiz won it (Fisk style) with a solo shot in the 10th. It's a hell of a ballclub.

So, what do I do if the Cubs, winners of the NL Central, meet the Red Sox in the World Series? Red Sox fans cry 1918, but it's been 1908 for the Cubs. And who did the Sox beat to win their last World Series title? The Cubs, of course.

Do I honor my childhood team and pull for the Cubs, or do I root for the home team, my home team, these never-say-die Red Sox that have provided thrills and spills in my back yard for the last 20 years?

It's a nice problem to have, should it happen, but I have no idea how to solve it.

Eminent Prophet

John Sumser writes about the blog revolution today and correctly points out that this new communication vehicle succinctly expresses the original ideas of the Web.

John is truly an online pioneer and has been writing about blogs before many of us recognized what these were. His pieces on policy, relevant recruiting blogs and job seeker blogs show real insight into the power that is yet to be unleashed.

Of course, John's been doing this for a while now. His electronic recruiting news is essentially a blog, daily thoughts from a visionary sitting in the comfy confines of his guitar-adorned greenhouse in Mill Valley. Rock on, John.

Dream World Series

Cubs vs. Red Sox. How cool would that be?

Red Sox Thriller at Fenway

I've been going to baseball games for the last 35 years, and I'd have to say last night's Red Sox' 6-5 10-inning victory over the Orioles was the most compelling. Down 5-2 in the bottom of the ninth, two outs, a 3-2 count and Todd Walker drills a line drive into the bullpen to send the game into extra innings.

The place was pandemonium, Fenway literally rocking in applause and adulation for this never-say-die ballclub. Very few people had left the ballpark. It was almost like everyone expected the Sox to pull this game out.

David Ortiz's blast into the Monster seats in the bottom of the 10th sent Fenway into a frenzy, and the entire team exploded out of the dugout onto the field to mob Ortiz as he crossed the plate.

A night that was supposed to be rainy and miserable turned into one of the season's highlights, if not the pinnacle of the regular season. And the rain? It stopped well before game time. The evening was warm and splendid.

If you were there, this will be a game you won't soon forget.

Gein and the Grave Robbers

One of the most refreshing bands to come out of the Boston music scene these days is the spook-surf sound of Gein and the Grave Robbers. Who would have ever thought to combine ghastly sound clips with power surf riffs? It's a scintillating combination that would make both Vincent Price and Brian Wilson proud.

Songwriter and lead guitarist Gein fronts a lineup that includes Myra on rhythm guitar, Kemper on bass and Sloth on drums. The Necro-Tone recording artists are playing a gig tomorrow night at the Lucky Dog Music Hall in Worcester. The show starts at 9, and is the perfect way to kick off autumn.

Alice Cooper, look what you've done!

West Wing - Left Wing

The only reason "The West Wing" won "Best Drama" at the Emmys is obvious: There's a Republican in the White House. The Academy of Television Arts and Sciences is so frustrated with the Bush administration that it has to re-elect its own president, the fiercely liberal Josiah Bartlett. Bill Clinton was Hollywood's guy and it misses him. Until the face of real-life Washington changes from an elephant to a donkey, you can expect the left-wing cast shadowing the podium again and again. ...

It's a crock that Brad Garrett won "Best Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series" for his Jackie Gleason wannabe performance in the overrated "Everybody Loves Raymond." Comedy is more than freezing your facial expression. "The King of Queens" is a far better show with superior writing and acting. ...

It's refreshing to see Tony Shalhoub win "Outstanding Lead Actor in a Comedy Series" for his performance in "Monk." He's a unique character in a program not many people are watching.

Identity

Checked out "Identity" on DVD the other night and was pleasantly surprised. I had heard the premise was unique, but wasn't sure what to expect. There's a major twist toward the end that prompts you to utter a lot of "oh yeahs" when thinking about the strangeness of earlier scenes. Tiberius only gave it two donuts, but I think he missed the genius of the writing/directing. Jenna liked it. The only blemish was that almost the entire movie is shot in the darkness and pouring rain, which makes it difficult (for me, at least) to follow who's doing what, and to whom.

I recommend it. It's much better than snoring through the tired plot of the recently released "Cold Creek Manor," which was one of the most predictable and cliched movies I've seen in a while.

Jungleland

Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain.

Bruce Springsteen, '75.

Remembering Ron Burton

There's so much fascination with the gifted athlete these days that character is a trait seldom considered when qualifying greatness.

One guys hits home runs but also hits on loose women. Another guy is a terrific pitcher, but looks for kids to pitch in some dough for his autograph.

It's refreshing to meet an athlete who realizes the responsibility attached to success. It's rare, but there are role models who are willing to give as well as receive.

When I met Ron Burton several years ago, it was clear this was a special person. Burton's death this past week leaves a void in the world.

Give? Burton ran a unique training camp for inner-city kids in Hubbardston, a quiet town in the western part of the state.

Give? Burton initiated Framingham Pop Warner football, spent endless hours with crippled children, the blind, the boy scouts, and was the national speaker for SADD - students against drunk driving.

The first-ever draft pick of the New England Patriots, Burton's resume was as long as his 91-yard touchdown return on a missed field goal in 1962, a Patriot record. Burton holds career scoring records at Northwestern and was a Heisman Trophy nominee in his senior season.

But it was his efforts off the field that mattered to him most.

"I just wish I could reach every kid," Burton told me. "I would like to share what's been given to me."

Burton was a testament to clean living, which is what makes his passing at 67 from bone cancer seem so unfair.

"I've never had a drink, never had a smoke and I can't even tell you what a drug looks like," he told me. "If someone tries to get you to have a drink or a smoke or try one of those funny little pills called drugs, you'll look at them a little differently next time. Because that person, whoever he or she may be, they may be your buddy but they're not your friend.

"No friend is going to get another person to do that unless they're losing big time themselves. If you do, you'll never go as far as you could have."

Ron Burton in a life cut short went farther than most people do with a full life. Heaven is lucky to have him.