I have met and endless supply of people on my travels. The character trait that most stands out for all of them is pride. If you remove the face painted yahoos,the faux trendy latest pink hat bunch as well as the upper echelon of business people - who frankly, I never see anyway because I inhabit the field and the grandstands - and what remains is a group of America. Arthur Rhodes is as proud and confident and loving as a person can be.
My mother used to tell me the road to Hell was paved with good intentions....walk in my footsteps as I trundle down those smokey, hot steps. I meant to stay on this blog at least every day but have been caught up in the maelstrom of creating an exhibit at the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute this summer. Today is the first "breather" I have had from that and I am hoping it can continue through the weekend. Media Day is in Pawtucket April 6th at 3PM...all is right here in "Bill Chapman Nation.."
Just thinking this Christmas Morning 2009, what I would say if I was asked the best baseball game/event that I have ever seen. A new book is coming out "Baseball's Bucket List - 162 Baseball Things to do Before You Die." (disclaimer: I do have photos in it..)(disclaimer2: and at least 14 other books, 3 coming out this spring...) and lists already being an almost passe craze. Hey, there is no passe craze - you is passe or you ain't...If bucket lists are appearing, then lists must be a passe as Facebook for hip people.
Timi Yuro's "The Big Hurt" could be the soundtrack. As happens every year, baseball disappears into scraps of "new" about who might go where and money deals being suggested that are so beyond a two dollar bleacher seat boys grasp of the world. Every winter, I wrestle with, "Am I done with this..??" and the Grim Reaper swings the scythe that much closer to my camera hand. Hitting the highway for twenty years, shooting because it makes me happy. As my friend, Bill R, remarked, "What else are you going to do?"
I went to the final game of the ALDS with my pal, Mickey. he and I are veteran Sox watcher/chronic complainers since we crossed paths in 1970. The game seemed to bring back the old little expensive engine that could...err...should theory. If they won this, then won two more...then...then... However, these were not the Pink Hat Red Sox of 2004. These guys hearkened back to all the teams I had witnessed before that.....going back as far as my memory serves to the 50s...and as far as my game viewing had gone as early as 1962. 67,75,78,86,90,91,93......look out, there is a new dud in town.
That second season starts for The Sox on Thursday in Anaheim. Depending on football, the time of the first Fenway game on Sunday hasn't been decided yet. I did had a moment of jubilation when the Sox made it but the odds against The World Series being in front of my eyes seem about as thin as the ham in a sandwich at Fenway. Right now, I am just happy that I get to see one more baseball game before hanging up my camera bag for the weekend. The "Baseball Faces" exhibit will be hitting the road next summer with me in tow. A self published book is in the works. Posters, postcards...and a mascot uniform for me are in various stages of production. Good Lord, children..
The number of times I have posted here has dropped off drastically. Methinks it might have to do with playing on Facebook but boredom has set in with that, too...so...here I am Moe. This blog shout off the counter at 1600, so I am left with the feeling that I am preaching to the already converted: myself. Now that Facebook has been piled on by older people, I have found that a lot of it marks the departure of my friends into geezerdom, premature or not. There are terrific blogs getting posted, side splitting videos but the majority of it seems to be the "I am cooking dinner" type of post. No problem with that, it is just that my interests lie elsewhere..I work with professors that feel themselves accomplished because their books have sold 500 copies. Really. This, again, is fine, but no cause for entitlement. Pop culture is so fragmented that nobody succeeds anymore on a grand scale. If the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom, the castle has become very, very tiny.
The Boston Globe is reporting the financial troubles of the Brockton Rox, the indie league team in the "City of Champions," Brockton, MA. Minor League teams are not a stable commodity and we local New Englanders are spoiled by the bedrock teams like the Portland Sea Dogs and the Pawtucket Red Sox. While a pleasant, if bland place to watch a b'ball game, I am sure that when the dollar began wilting, the allure of buying a hot dog with a ten dollar bill wrapped around it became less of a draw. I was quite surprised to see a booth to buy lottery tickets at the park. A friend who grew up in Brockton told me the best advice when you are there is not to look anyone in the eyes, just charming for a photographer....The departure of "Singing Ed Nottle, the manager and storied vocalist must have had an impact as well.
In some sort of paradox, "Baseball Faces," the exhibit at Panopticon Gallery that bears my name ends Wednesday, the Ninth of September, the same day as the Beatles catalogue that has been remastered, is being released on CD. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. A pal gave me some studio speakers that I don't even use because they are so powerful. I intend to hook them up and blare "Taxman" and a few others through them....
The Kennedys have been part of my life since I was nine. My sense of noblesse oblige was formed from a caring grandfather, a child's meager understanding of the New Deal and the actions of the Kennedy family. Jack's election, a fellow Irish Catholic from a shared hometown of Brookline, MA at my age of nine and his murder at my age of eleven, followed by Teddy's term in the Senate, Bobby's presidential run and subsequent murder, had a lot of bearing on what I was to adopt as my own political views. No matter what shenanigans Teddy pulled in his life, I was able to ignore them because he was the only chance America had of adopting a national health care possibly. The Clinton's failed terribly at making it a reality, Obama is skirting failure with the same.the same. Had Teddy been elected president, he would have four or possibly eight years to establish his goals. By having stayed as a Senator, he had so many more years to work his programs through to completion. His death is affecting me far more than I thought. There have been only nine years of my life when I have not been represented by a Kennedy. The booming voice...the loud laughter, the dominating presence; yeah, I have those too and guess where they came from...
