"We're going to gradually increase that and grow with that and we've been working on that for quite some time and got that going and that will continue to go and continue to grow in all forms."
University of Florida offensive coordinator Stave Addazio, quoted in yesterday's Miami Herald.
If Ken Burns is such an intelligent documentary filmmaker, then why did he begin "The 10th Inning" with the statement: "Despite what happens off the field, it's still a beautiful game" and then show, as illustration, a player hitting a home run? And not just any player, but one embroiled in the bulking up scandal? It contradicted the message of all the previous hours of "Baseball," which is that it is the small things, the often unnoticed subtleties, that make baseball such an exquisite game. Whether it's the "greatest game ever invented," as someone claimed last night, is debatable, and awfully jingoistic. Is it superior to soccer, chess, or solitaire (which our electronic age has given a new life).
One of the small things that is sadly disappearing from the game is the organist (you don't get that with chess). After four decades, Chicago White Sox organist Nancy Faust is retiring, and taking with her an era of graciousness, individuality and wit. (She would, with input from fans seated nearby, play songs appropriate to the opposing team's batters.) She personalized the game, and made sitting at U.S. Cellular Field different from sitting in almost any other ballpark.
Now, the White Sox want to give their fans the same blast of canned, homogenized music that's everywhere these days, even in the retro stadiums. (Retro only goes so far.) Burns - if he really wants to capture the spirit of baseball today - should play some of this music over a shot of George Will, mouthing words we can no longer hear.
Congratulations to University of Miami football coach Randy Shannon for closing the Twitter accounts of all his players. You can't have people tweeting "Third and long - we're gonna try a double reverse" and expect to win football games.
The couple at the ticket window next to mine were speaking a language seldom heard at Sun Life Stadium. I asked the woman where she was from.
"The Netherlands," she said.
"And you understand baseball?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I was a pitcher."
Her husband was still discussing seating with the woman behind the window, so I told the beautiful Dutch hurler that they could buy cheaper seats - bullpen for instance - and then move over to the infield, as not many people came to the games.
"Thanks, but we'll do it by the book," she said.
By the book, I thought to myself as I climbed the circular ramp. How did she know that expression?
The game was a wash. Bad Marlins pitching, bad Marlins fielding, bad Marlins base-running. Why can't the Marlins learn to play baseball the way the Dutch learn to speak English?
But the game ended as all baseball games should, with Louis Armstrong singing - as fans slowly filed out of the stadium - "What a Wonderful World." This is the only tradition the Marlins should take to the new ballpark.
Enjoying the U.S. Open? Well, it is the greatest tennis tournament in the world. At least that's what they said (twice) during the opening ceremonies. It is the only tennis tournament in the world that insists on claiming that it is the greatest in the world.
It's also the only tennis tournament in which players are constantly asked how they like playing "in front of these crowds" - New York sports fans apparently being the world's neediest. Every player, without fail, says he or she loves it, though I wonder about Djokovic, who had to stop play last week when a fight erupted in the stands. You don't get fights at Wimbledon, that inferior upstart.
You also don't get British fans cheering a missed first serve, the way they do at the Open when their favorite is on the receiving end. You don't get ball boys wearing supersized Ralph Lauren polo logos so that they're unmistakable on TV. (Do people wear logos of tennis players at polo matches?) You don't get, speaking of Djokovic again, caps and shirts flowing with decorative Gothic lettering.
But if you cut through the nonsense, it's been fun to watch on TV. If somehow you can forget the superior coverage the USA Network used to give the Open, with the inimitable Michael Barkann roaming the grounds and doing the on court interviews of the victors. Last night, during the Federer-Melzer match, they showed celebrities sitting in the stands; years ago Barkann would have been kneeling next to them with a microphone. John McEnroe continues to be as brilliant a commentator as he was a player (and without the tantrums) while Jimmy Connors - on another network - states the obvious in sonorous tones as if it's great insight. He's the poet laureate, as a journalist friend used to say about a colleague, of conventional wisdom. If Connors were dumped and Barkann reinstated I might actually consider the Open to be the greatest tennis tournament in the world.
I have never desired Carl Kasell's voice on my home answering machine (Hania does a lovely job with hers), but I do like listening to the NPR news quiz show "Wait Wait ... Don't Tell Me!" The questions tend to be fairly easy, but the panelists are usually funny and irreverent.
Usually. This past Saturday, the celebrity guest was Pete Carroll, the new coach of the Seattle Seahawks and the former coach of the University of Southern California Trojans. USC was recently penalized by the NCAA for a number of violations, mostly in its football program. Carroll is believed by many to have taken the job in Seattle so he could avoid the mess at USC. He has claimed that he knew nothing about the violations.
The always affable Peter Sagal refrained from bringing up this matter during his interview with Carroll - perhaps forgetting that he is the host of a "news quiz show." It is also a humor show. And none of the normally astute panelists noted that the coach now under suspicion for turning a blind eye was on the segment of the show called "Not My Job."