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Two years ago tonight I experienced one of the worst storms I can remember. It was a Friday, and I had spent the day going about my business, getting ready for my graduation the next morning. April storms are unusual, and the one that struck that night was extraordinary. It wasn’t just the rain (although it did rain 2.53 inches that night, a record for the date that still stands), but the wind was astonishing. When I attempted to open the back door that night, a gust blew it out of my hands. Fallen branches were everywhere, and at the end of the street, and elsewhere around the neighborhood, houses were crushed by entire trees. On 6th Street, a massive oak fell across the road, pulverizing the sidewalk and flattening a fence. When my family came to town the next day, the neighborhood looked like a war zone.

Two years on and the scars from that night’s storm are still visible. Two blocks north of me, a house that was heavily damaged that night now stands vacant. A tree had fallen across the roof and driveway, damaging the house next door in the process. The next door house got fixed, but a few months after the storm, and the tarpaulins that had been placed temporarily over the damaged roof had broken down or blown away, leaving massive holes open to the elements. Only a couple months ago did a new, more secure looking tarp appear over that house. Elsewhere, the half-ground stump of the giant tree that crushed the sidewalk along 6th Street is still visible in the now otherwise bare yard of the old farmhouse at 31st Avenue. The city replaced the sidewalk shortly after the storm, and the street has been repaved, too. The white house at the corner, the back half of which had been almost flattened, has been completely repaired. If you look closely you can see that the bricks on the east side have been replaced, and the spot where the enormous oak tree stood is bare.

We were lucky that night: our house, and the houses of our neighbors were unharmed. They say it may have been a tornado that plowed through. I can’t say, but I was glad to get by unscathed. Still, two years on that storm is fresh in my memory.

Filed under: Meteorology, Musings on April 30th, 2012 | No Comments »

A legendary baseball park turned one hundred years old today. Truly one of the cathedrals of the game, it witnessed some of the sport’s greatest moments—many World Series and All-Star Games—and hosted legendary players like Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, and Lou Gehrig. From its earliest days, it was the city’s pride. Tiger Stadium opened 20 April 1912.

Unlike another ball park that opened the same day, however, Tiger Stadium is only a memory now. Its demise is one of the most unfortunate in the history of baseball, and, in a city that is a pale shadow of its former glory, it is surely missed. Its destruction must count as another shameful example of the short-sightedness, iconoclasm, and willful disrespect for tradition that has severely hurt baseball, and has seen too many great old parks fall victim to the wrecking ball. Consider this: after Fenway Park and Wrigley Field, the next oldest parks in Major League Baseball are Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, Angel Stadium of Anaheim, Oakland Coliseum, and Kauffman Stadium in Kansas City. Tropicana Field is the eighth oldest ball park in the Majors. Now, Dodger Stadium is, in my opinion, a modernist masterpiece, and I appreciate Kauffman Stadium, too, but the destruction of Comiskey Park, Cleveland Municipal Stadium, and Yankee Stadium ought to be considered scandalous given the banality of their replacements.

Surely, few people miss Jack Murphy Stadium, the Metrodome, or Three Rivers Stadium. And even if I personally have fond memories of Fulton County Stadium, and even if the Astrodome was a modern marvel, they had their flaws. So did Candlestick Park (which still stands) and Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. In any event, Camden Yards and PNC Park are each striking in their own way. Rangers Ballpark is one of my favorite designs, and the view from the new Busch Stadium is vastly superior to the old, closed-in design that obstructed views of St. Louis’ most iconic landmark.

Of all cities, New York—where memories of Ebbets Field seem to send old Brooklyn fans into fits of reverie—should have been more appreciative of the majesty of Yankee Stadium, if not the style of Shea. Alas, greed proved more potent than pride and tradition, and the House that Ruth Built is lost. Ages hence, a white-haired Billy Crystal will look into some documentarian’s camera and lament the loss of his childhood.

What difference does it make, so long as the crowds want to come? Nostalgia is my answer. Red Sox fans who attended games at Fenway with their fathers, who attended games with their fathers, can give those same memories to their own sons. When I visited Wrigley Field in 2008, I could tell my wife how it looked exactly the same as it did when I saw it on television with my grandfather almost a quarter century before. And, though he never saw a game there in person, had he gone there as a boy it would have looked the same. That means something.

Fenway Park turned one hundred years old today, and tens of thousands of Bostonians turned out to wish her a happy birthday, with best wishes for another hundred years. Alas, Detroit lost that chance when Tiger Stadium disappeared in 2009. However appealing construction of Comerica Park may have seemed at the end of the last century, the new stadium will not live to see its one hundredth birthday; I’d bet money on it. But I wouldn’t bet my memories, and that’s what makes me and the iconoclasts different.

 

Filed under: Current Events, Nostalgia, Sports on April 20th, 2012 | 1 Comment »

Historians sometimes speak of something called the long nineteenth century, beginning in 1789, ending in 1914, and bookended by the French Revolution and the beginning of the First World War. It can be a useful conceptual aid, and not unduly harmful, since, in any event, the idea of “the century” as an important unit of time is relatively arbitrary. And if, as an Americanist, I would choose to push the beginning of “the nineteenth century” up to 1814, I still concede that World War I appears to usher in a new age. All of this is simply to say that the one hundredth anniversary of the sinking of Titanic, which is hereby observed, is of peculiar interest to me.

Consider the popular image of the ship as a floating palace, with opulent ballrooms, elegant dining halls, grand staircases, and vast promenades, where passengers of different classes were kept separate, and where your class largely determined whether you survived the voyage. Almost all of the first-class female passengers survived, while many, if not most, of the female third-class passengers perished. Consider the spirit of hubris and optimism that caused its builders to provide lifeboat capacity for fewer than half the passengers under the best-case scenario. Given that some lifeboats were launched with as few as a dozen passengers, the picture becomes much more bleak. The same irresponsible forces were at play in other disasters of the era. The Iroquois Theatre fire comes to mind.

Titanic fascinates us because, in some ways, it stands as a metaphor for nineteenth century society. Beneath the ship’s splendid exterior were men and machinery, making it all work. And the photographs of elegantly-dressed passengers amid the splendor of Titanic’s luxurious rooms belie the tremendous danger that all were in, though they didn’t know it. Plus, shipwrecks are just fascinating in general. In 1750 Samuel Johnson wrote that “almost all the fictions of the last age will vanish, if you deprive them of a hermit and a wood, a battle and a shipwreck”. Shipwrecks make for good stories, and, as it has been commonly observed that nothing is more dramatic than real life.

I remember reading or hearing about Titanic when I was a small child. But I recall being spellbound when, in the mid-1980s, the wreck was located. National Geographic made a television special about the discovery, and I watched it with tremendous interest. They showed images of the wreck at the bottom of the sea, and it was like seeing a ghost. The ship’s bell, its wheel, the rail above the bow – it all astonished me.

Ten years after Titanic was rediscovered, I had largely forgotten about it. I mean, if I was asked a Jeopardy question about it I am sure I would have answered correctly, but I didn’t think about it often. So, when the film Titanic was released in 1997, I didn’t really care. All my friends went to see it. We refered to it as “Crytanic”. Mostly I just thought Leonardo DiCaprio seemed like a terrible over-actor. Then, in 1998 or 1999, I went to see the band NRBQ play a show in Tampa. They played a song that sounded made up on-the-spot, but that I remember to this day. It was a sort of list of all the stuff that was making headlines—indeed, the stories that wouldn’t go away—at that time. Prominently mentioned were “el Niño”, “Year 2000 Computer Disaster”, and, of course, Titanic. The verse went like so:

Monday, Titanic. Tuesday, Titanic. Wednesday, Thursday, Titanic.

Friday for a change, a little more Titanic.

Saturday, Sunday, Titanic.

That was a pretty accurate summation of public consciousness at the time.

I did eventually see the film, and my opinion of Mr. DiCaprio’s performance was confirmed. But Kate Winslet was fair of face, and the story was gripping. Friday night we went on a double date with a lovely couple, Michael and Mandy, and we saw Titanic in its newly-engineered 3D format. (I will say, for the record, that I do not like 3D movies. It never looks like real life because photography itself cannot mimic what the eye sees. That is, 3D films rely on a standard formula of shallow depth-of-field and selective focus. The director chooses an object in the frame to focus on, and the rest goes totally soft from the wide aperture. Often, he will adjust focus so that the a new object becomes the subject, while the other goes soft. Granted, our eyes do this all the time, but they do it instantly.  What the human eye can accomplish the lens cannot, and, too often, the 3D film looks like a Viewmaster slide.) Though it was not originally shot in 3D, the transfer was skilfully handled, by which I mean it was not obnoxiously done, with silly gimmicks, like chunks of iceberg seeming to fly out of the screen. With so many distant-perspective shots in Titanic, it seems like a logical choice to give it a go, and I admit it could have been a lot worse. My opinion of Leonardo DiCaprio has not changed. Why does he always seem like he’s acting in a high school play? And while Kate Winslet remains beautiful, I did not realize before that her character is supposed to be seventeen. I was not convinced. Though I still found the story compelling, many of the special effects look awful. I have criticized CGI for years, and in spite of substantial improvements in computer technology, CGI still does not look as good as traditional special effects with models. Nearly every film I have seen that uses a considerable amount of CGI has disappointed me. Both Incredible Hulk-inspired films looked terrible. Gollum in the Lord of the Rings films looked fake. Not quite Elliott in Pete’s Dragon fake, but close. And last night we watched Rise of the Planet of the Apes and it looked so cartoonish that I couldn’t decide which was worse, the special effects or the story. Both were nearly unwatchable. I am not exaggerating when I say that Dr. Zaius looked far more realistic in 1968 than Caesar did in 2011. The Titanic filmmakers used lots of models, and those look great. But the CGI effects, especially long sweeping shots of the ship’s deck and surroundings, look cartoonish. Indeed, in several instances, the computer-generated passengers walking along the decks looked like a video game. Grand Theft Auto: Titanic. Considering the film’s budget, that is disappointing. They would have done better to build a model on a set and use cranes to shoot it.

All that said, we had a splendid time with Mandy and Michael, and the sinking of Titanic is still fascinating, even a century after it happened.

Filed under: Film, Friends, History, Musings on April 15th, 2012 | No Comments »

I saw the future tonight.

MLB.TV is like Netflix, insofar as you stream content through a device like a video game console, and select from menus like on Netflix. But instead of movies, you are selecting baseball games. Any baseball game, in fact, being played across all of Major League Baseball. So, want to see the Hated Yankees playing against the Orioles in Baltimore? No problem. St. Louis at Cincinnati? Sure. Kansas City at Oakland? Yep. You can even chose which announces you want to hear. That is, if you want to hear the regular Atlanta announcers in the game against Houston (playing tonight as the Colt .45s), you can do that. Or you can hear the Astros’ announcers. And, unlike, say, a DVR, which only allows you to rewind an unrecorded program as far back as the moment you tuned in, this service lets you rewind any game to the very beginning. Oh, and when the inning ends, instead of going to commercials, you see a blank screen. It’s enormously refreshing.

In 1989, Back to the Future, Part II predicted that by 2015 we would have hoverboards, flying cars, and holographic billboards for Jaws sequels. It didn’t predict this.

Filed under: Sports, Technology on April 10th, 2012 | No Comments »