Ron Gardenhire Does Not Deserve AL Manager of the Year

I'm sorry, Ron Washington. 

I know, Gandenhire had a fabulous season. Strike that. A fabulous regular sesaon. His team posted a .580 win percentage with former MVP Morneau out for over half of the year, and going into the year with talent like Nick Punto as a starter. Great job, indeed.

But once again, when this team got to a place where the bright lights shine, they appear utterly clueless. They were swept by the Yankees in three, and never offered any kind of resistance. At all.  If they could have tapped out at the end of Game 2, they likely would have.

Washington, on the other hand, weathered a brutal Texas summer and got his team not only to the playoffs, but to the World Series. Just due to weather alone, it's damn near impossible to win in Texas, but Washington won, and won when it counted.

So, sorry Ron Washington. You got chumped, while the captain of the USS We're Just Happy to Be Here conducts interviews and prepares for another great regular season.

To be quickly followed by an weak and immediate exit from the playoffs.  Again.

A Question for Dad

My brother sent me a link to a recent Joe Posnanski blog post that incredibly intertwines a story about Bruce Springsteen's prolific years between Born to Run and Darkness on the Edge of Town with a story about Joe and his father.  It is masterfully written, and I encourage you to read it here. 

Joe's an fantastic writer, and the story he weaves is really touching. 

After reading it, I reflected on it a bit, then I waded into the comments at the end of the blog.  Big mistake.  One post in particular mentioned a reader who had previously has some discussions with his friends about the questions they would ask their deceased fathers if they had the opportunity.  That hit me hard, because I immediately know the one question that I'd ask Dad if here was standing here right now.  And it'd be a trick question, too. 

"Dad, do you love me?" 

I can see his face immediately after I ask.  His brow would furrow and he'd appear a little hurt.  "Of course I love you," he'd say.  "Your Mom and I love you very much.  What, are you wacko?"  Then he'd go in for the huge bear hug, and my trick will have worked perfectly. 

Nobody could bear hug like my Dad.  He hugged with his heart.  He hugged with gusto.  He'd surprise you with his strength and musculature of his shoulders and arms.  It felt good, even when his unshaven cheek was rubbing against yours.  And when you were there, there was no better or safer place in the world.   So if I could parlay my question into a hug from my Dad, I'd be quite content to ask no other questions of him. 

Note that in my quote above, Dad replied "your Mom and I."  He often did this in things of significance.  Some might speculate him doing it because it kept him from being totally exposed on emotional issues, but in my years of observation, that was not the case at all.  Mom and Dad were a team, knew where each other stood, and were unified in their approach to us kids.  When he'd say stuff to me that began with "your Mom and I think...," I could believe it, as I knew they had verbalized it to each other, they were on the same page, and one of them could freely and confidently speak on behalf of the both of them.  Mom often used the same language, and it meant the exact same thing coming from her. 

Note to my brother - Please don't send me any other blog posts like that where there is a possibility I might read them at work.  Not cool.  But please do send them along, because with this one I got to go back and experience a wonderful dynamic between our parents, and if I close my eyes, concentrate hard and open my heart, I can clearly remember what it was like to get a hug from Dad.   

Fr. Don Talafous and the Selling of Our House

I was all set to use the following as my next blog post:

There’s a big lie you’re not being told.  The recession may not have impacted you, or so you think.  You’re not lost your job, and have remained fully employed.  You income could even have gone up.  The belt tightening that we’ve all had to do turned out not so bad.  Life’s good.  At least until you try and sell your house.  The dirty little economic horror story that nobody is discussing is the absolute shambles in which the real estate market has been left.  Oh, you can look at what sold around you, and tell yourself tales like “that is a good comp to me because of X so I’m OK” or “that is a bad comp to me because it obviously had to be a foreclosure,” but the fact of the matter is you have no idea what you’re sitting on in terms on home value until you put it on the market.  Your perusal of real estate transactions can’t tell you.  Your county assessor can’t tell you.  Your real estate agent can’t tell you.  Only the market can tell you, and unless you’re entry level, new construction, a foreclosure, or $1,000,000+, what the market will tell you is that you are screwed.  Royally.  What you think your house is worth isn’t even close to what it’s worth, and if you were counting on that equity as a retirement buffer, security blanket, or a means to fund your kids’ college, you better find another money pile, bucko, because the one you’re living in has burned away to ashes. Caveat venditor.

I subscribe to a daily newsletter from Fr. Don Talafous, a priest that was a part of my freshman and sophemore years at St. John's.  I strongly encouage you to subscribe - he has fabulous insight. 

The very next day after writing my house screed above, I get this message from Fr. Don:

What we can and must do is trust in the value of our commitment and not let such disappointments lessen our generosity or good spirit. We have been blessed with closeness to God and Christ, with life in the body of Christ and with the assurance and strength this brings. Rather than wailing over what isn't and dreaming of some other time, we need to give the present our best, our gifts, our hope. Whining, nagging, complaining self-pity, grumpiness, bitterness, silence, are not, as Paul would say, the fruits of the spirit but of the flesh, of a short-sighted attitude. Rather our true following of Christ shows itself in joy, kindness, forgiveness, respect for others' conscience, trust for the future, perseverance in prayer and worship.

Hence, I retract my whining above, and continue to put my faith in the fact that things will happen when and how they're supposed to happen.

Thanks, Fr. Don.  Again. 

Review of Spamalot, Weidner Center, Green Bay

We attended a very enjoyable showing of Phoenix Entertainment’s Monty Python’s Spamalot at the University of Wisconsin Green Bay’s Weidner Center last night.  It wasn’t your typical Broadway show, but I didn’t expect it to be, either. 

Here are notes from the performance: 

• I was surprised at the script’s literal interpretation of the movie with many parts.  Dialog was brought in verbatim, which had me not only finishing lines in my head, but also had me listening to the woman behind me say them out loud.  This was disappointing as the fresh content was really good.  
• Highlights were Lancelot’s coming out, You Won’t Succeed on Broadway (Unless You Have a Jew in the Show), and The Song that Goes Like This. 
• Best performance of the night (and there were a few) goes to Jacob L. Smith and his handling of his solos. 
• Caroline Bowman as The Lady of the Lake had a beautiful voice, and was worth the price of admission as well. 
• The faux playbill was pure Python (did Eric Idle write it?) and had me laughing out loud multiple times prior to the curtain. 
• I was impressed by Weidner Center.  While the stage was on the small side, the venue had great sight lines and an intimate feel.  Unfortunately, the upcoming schedule of shows is limited, which is a real shame.  A hall like that should be used a lot more frequently. 

As a Python fan, I really enjoyed the show.  My wife, not a fan of Python at all, even had an OK time.  It was a well produced, well performed Sunday night out.

Now That's More Like It

It has been years, but finally there is reason for celebration in South Bend.  Notre Dame absolutely dominated #14 Utah in a game that was nearly flawless by the Irish.  It seems like everything came together - no stupid penalties, few mental mistakes, textbook blocking and tackling, and performance in all aspects.  If this is a vision of what Notre Dame looks like in the future under Kelly's tutelage, there is cause for optimism. 

But before we get too far down that road, the team will have to prove that they've turned the corner by beating an option-heavy Army team under the bright lights of Yankee Stadium.  The Irish have struggled mightily with option-based offenses this year - the games against Navy and Michigan both stand out - and if this team has truly found itself on a new path, they must find a way to stop these offenses. 

But that's next week.  For now, after so much trauma, it is nice to enjoy an upset win on an emotional senior day.

Brett Favre's Steakhouse Restaurant Review

Last night we attended Brett Favre's Steakhouse here in Green Bay.  It kind of aspires to be a top steakhouse (waiters in the white coats, meat choices presented on carts, etc.) but is kind of a cheaper version.  For example, the dining room lamps don't fit the room, the steaks are all USDA Choice, the wine list (even the reserve list) lacks vintage information, etc. 

That being said, we had an enjoyable dinner.  I started with a mediocre French onion soup (the onions were undercooked), moved to a tasty bone-in ribeye, accompanied by some very good mushrooms and creamed spinach.  My wife enjoyed a good New York strip. 

I'm ordinarily not a dessert person, but our waiter went on about their pasty chef and how he cranks fresh stuff out every day, and my better half was sold on a sweet even before the waiter's pitch, so we ended up sharing a piece of the carrot cake.  If you go to this restaurant, absolutely save room for dessert.  It was, by far, the best part of the meal.  The cake was incredible - moist, with the perfect mix of golden raisins, coconut, and carrots, and an outstanding cream cheese frosting.  It was probably the best piece of carrot cake I've eaten.  Outstanding. 

Just because it's been talked about so much lately, we close with a gratuitous  photo of Brett Favre's meat.  

I'm not sure what the big deal is...

Green Bay Stereotype Confirmed

Unfortunately, Green Bay has a couple of stereotypes.  It's industrial.  Lacks size and sophistication.  Not very pretty.  According to former kicker Ryan Longwell, "a place where fine dining is a choice between Appleby's and Hooter's."  And, as one popular T-shirt put it, a "drinking town with an NFL football problem." 

While I've been here only a couple of months, I know the town to be much more diverse than that.  I'll get into all of that in future posts.  But back to that stereotype thing.  It doesn't help matters when the back of my Packer game ticket offers free schweel if the Pack scores more than 30 in the game.  I can honestly say I've never seen a free beer offer before - wow. 

I paid attention to this during our game, and there was an audibly louder cheer from the fans once that critical 30 point threshold got breached.  It added a component of drama to an otherwise dull blow-out.

I guess it says something about my acclimation to our new home when I tell you that I'll be at Festival tomorrow morning, ticket in hand, to pick up my free 6-pack. 

Hey, free schweel is free schweel.  Might even pick up a pack of bratwurst, too.  

Go, Pack go?

Happy Veterans' Day