I went to the wrong game. Last night, in addition to stealing two bases, Shohei Ohtani hit his 49th and 50th home runs of the season - becoming the first player in major league history to steal 50 bases and hit 50 home runs in one season - and then, for good measure, hit his 51st home run. He went 6 for 6 and drove in 10 runs in the Dodgers 20-4 win over the Marlins.
I should have known Ohtani would set the record here. For it was in loanDepot Park that, last year, he struck out Mike Trout to win the World Baseball Classic for Japan. Oh yes, for those of you not into baseball, the amazing hitter is also an incredible pitcher.
My first 2024 visit to see the Marlins was prompted by the visiting Dodgers, their superstar Shohei Ohtani, and the prospect of witnessing baseball history. Ohtani came into last night's game with 48 home runs and the same number of stolen bases, on the verge of becoming the first player ever to get 50 of each.
He led off the game with a single, promptly stole second (#49), and sprinted to third on the errant throw. This I learned later, as my friend Mark and I were stuck in traffic. Never underestimate the desire of people to witness history.
In his next four at-bats, Ohtani failed to reach base, striking out twice, once while looking. This was a huge disappointment to the fans, many of whom wore Dodgers caps. But even Marlins fans, I suspect, were looking for something to celebrate in a very dismal season.
My solace came at the end of the sixth inning when, on my way to buy my beloved arepa, I spotted a new stand selling Asian food. I passed on the bao buns holding miniature hot dogs – though they looked very cute – and got bao buns stuffed with pork. They were excellent.
I love malls, not so much for shopping – I can’t remember the last time I bought anything other than food in one – but for people-watching and picture-taking. In South Florida we are blessed with two of the nation’s most successful malls: Sawgrass Mills and Aventura Mall. I rarely enter the first; I sit with a book on a bench outside and watch the parade of nations pass by. Aventura boasts one of the best food halls in the region and, since the summer, a delightfully unconventional bookstore.
Unlike Sawgrass’s Books-A-Million, Quade Books is a small, bright, extremely well-curated space. It sits next to the Apple store on the second level; you walk under the food court to get to it. And there you find books in English and Spanish, not in separate sections, but on the same wall, in the same genre. It is an interesting approach, and one perfectly reflective of our bilingual home. On one shelf you can find Leslie Jamison in English and on another Eduardo Galeano in Spanish. There are also romance novels, with their bright covers, and a large section of children’s books. It is a wonderful addition to the mall, a place where I will actually buy something.
I have begun calling my cough ‘Etna’. It lies dormant for long periods and then suddenly erupts.
I used to like awards shows but now they just remind me of how different my tastes are from those of most Americans. I watched a few episodes of The Bear (too over-the-top; nobody is that mad that consistently) and Bad Reindeer (too bizarre). Shogun I have no interest in. My favorite TV shows are/were My Brilliant Friend (which I assume wasn’t nominated because of the year break), Curb Your Enthusiasm (which at least got nominated), and Real Time with Bill Maher (nada).
The man behind Bad Reindeer, in one of his three acceptance speeches, praised the fact that the studios are taking risks on shows with unconventional premises. But the real risk, it seems, would be in backing a show about the everyday lives of ordinary people.
Sunday in Chicago was a beautiful day and I headed over to the Printers Row Lit Fest, where I had spoken the day before. Once there, I heard a man talking in passing with the vendor of posters, in that easy, familiar intercourse of people connected by place – and for a moment I wished I lived in a city like Chicago - or Chicago, for that matter. But then I realized that that connection, that deep-seated social cohesiveness, while it still exists, is not as strong as it once was when there were metropolitan newspapers that everybody read and other institutions – like department stores – that everybody frequented. About all that’s left now to unite a city’s residents are its sports teams, which explains why sports are so popular today and why, at games, even grown men and women now wear the caps and jerseys of their home teams.
At one of the tents I found a book about Mike Royko. The great newspaper columnist was a man whom Chicagoans read and quoted and followed with a devotion that cut across ethnic and economic spheres and created a feeling of belonging among the population. That was Royko’s genius, and it doesn’t show up in every generation. But if it did today, it would be drowned out by a thousand podcasts.