an open letter to god
Jason posted on October 30, 2008
God,
Best,
Jason
good news/bad news (world series edition)
Jason posted on October 22, 2008
I have a good news/bad news scenario for Philadelphians as the Phillies prepare to take on the Tampa Bay Rays (nee Devil Rays) in the World Series tonight.
The good news: As I said before, the Phillies are going to win the World Series. I have no doubt about this and haven’t since they got into the playoffs, even calling a Phils WS win on here. Because I moved as far away from Philly as possible, God is going to bestow the city of Philadelphia with its first world championship since 1983, when I was four years old. God and I have been feuding on and off for years now, and this is His way of really one-upping me. You have to admit, He’s good. So Philly fans, you have that going for you.
Secondly, the Phillies, pound for pound, have the better team. The Rays have pop, we have pop. The Rays have speed, we have speed. The Rays play great defense, we play great defense. The differences:
1) The Rays have homefield advantage. True, four games will be played at The Trop and only three at Citizen’s Bank, if the Series goes to seven. But can I ask you a question? Would you rather have four games in front of crowd filled with people who think Evan is Eva’s little brother and think it’s good when the batter hits the ball far, even if it’s for an out? Or would you rather have three games in front of a crowd of rabid, obese, championship-starved people, whose franchise has one championship in 126 years, who not only know about baseball and the team but will also you follow you into the parking lot and brain you with your little cowbell after the game? I’m ok with the latter, thanks.
2) The Rays rotation is deeper. Kazmir, Shields, Garza and Sonnanstine is a good, deep rotation. But when I look at those names, I see 2a, 2b, 2c, 3a. The Phillies have a much thinner rotation, led by Cole Hamels and followed by Brett “Who am I going to be today?” Myers, Jaime “I’m apparently trying to sabotage the playoffs” Moyer and Joe “Nobody seems to notice that I’m pitching pretty well right now” Blanton. But here’s the thing: in a seven game playoff series, deep rotations with B or B+ starters don’t get it done - rotations with one or two aces do. Cole Hamels is an ace. Cole Hamels can go 1 and 4 and 7, if necessary (not buying Charlie Manuel saying he won’t start Cole on three days’ rest). I’ll take Hamels two or three times in a seven game series (with a quality start or two from Myers or Blanton) over B+, B+, B+, B, thanks.
3) The disparity in bullpens. The Rays bullpen, seemingly a source of relative strength for the team all year, seemed to hit a wall in Game 5 of the ALCS. Watching Dan Wheeler on the mound, dangling there, I mean “deer in headlights” doesn’t even work there. Of course, David “Superman” Price closed out the game in Game 7 and could be their closer, but the guy had five major league appearances on his resume prior to the playoffs. Yeah, he looks like The Truth, but what happens when he’s on the mound in the Bank with the game on the line? And this is even if he’s closing - Joe Maddon has said he’s going to be used almost exclusively to get Chase Utley and Ryan Howard out. Aside from Price, the TB bullpen appears to be held together by duct tape at this point. Meanwhile, the Phils had the second-lowest bullpen ERA in the league and a closer who went 41-41 in save opps during the season and is 5-5 so far in the playoffs. Huge advantage here for the Phils.
4) We have experience. Last year, when the Phillies got to the playoffs, it was their “happy to be here” attitude that helped in their undoing. I don’t think this team will feel satisfied with a WS appearance, but rather only with a WS victory. Tampa Bay’s hopes rest on a 24 year old starter who’s spent his entire career playing for absolutely terrible teams; a 24 year old who started playing CF just this year and had 9 home runs during the regular season; a 23 year old 3B who, well, he looks pretty great; and a 23 year old set-up man/closer who’s pitched a total of 14.1 innings in the major leagues.
5) Ryan Howard and Jimmy Rollins. Anyone else noticed that the Phillies dismantled the Brewers and Dodgers without a single home run from Ryan Howard? Anyone else notice in the last three games against the Dodgers, Howard went 6-12 with two walks and most importantly, zero strikeouts? Did you guys know that Jimmy Rollins is hitting .243 in the postseason so far? See that leadoff home run in Game Five against the Dodgers? These two are beyond due. If you had told me before the playoffs that the Phillies would go 7-2 with Howard and Rollins batting a combined .250 with two home runs and five RBI between them, I probably would have placed several bets with you.
Finally, the last reason for optimism: my entire life I’ve been your typical pessimistic Philly sports fan, predicting doom at every turn, realizing that ultimately my teams would let me down. When the Eagles lost the Super Bowl in 2004, I quoted Daniel Patrick Moynihan, who after the assassination of JFK said, “To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart.” The misery of the Irish is sooooo a hundred years ago; the misery of the Philly sports fan is more alive now than ever before. But this year, straight from the get-go, I’ve eschewed pessimism and anxiety and have sat back and enjoyed the ride, a ride which will only end with a parade down Broad Street. Which brings us to the bad news…
The bad news: If the Phillies are in a position to win the World Series title, I am going to Philadelphia. I know, I know - I probably should stay away. In the post linked above, I talked about how in 2001 I left Loserville Boston and moved to Titletown NYC and almost single-handedly reversed the fortunes of those two cities. It was only when I made the decision and began making arrangements to move to LA than did the Giants win the Super Bowl. Hell, in 2006, I flew from NYC to Seattle to root for the Seahawks in the Super Bowl, so desperate was I to be in a city that wins a championship - and we know how that turned out.
The point: essentially, where I am, championships are not. However, as a die-hard Philadelphia fan, I can not allow myself to (potentially) sit idly by in Los Angeles, a city I hate with the passion of a thousand burning suns that are on fire really bad, while my city erupts into a championship orgy. I can’t do it. I have to be there if this might happen.
So here’s my thing - I’m in New York City right now for a work thingee. On Thursday night, I am flying back to LA (I will miss Game Two, but there is nothing I can do about it). On Friday, I am driving to Las Vegas - my first trip ever to Vegas - for my buddy/old roommate Brian’s 30th birthday. I am scheduled to return from Vegas to LA on Monday.
(By the way, Vegas suggestions welcome. We’re staying at the Hard Rock.)
Therefore, I will be in Vegas for Games Three (Saturday) and Game Four (Sunday) and in LA for Game Five (Monday). If the Phillies are up 3-0 after Saturday, I am flying from Vegas to Philly on Sunday morning. If the Phillies are up 3-1 after Sunday, I am flying from Vegas to Philly on Monday morning. If the Phillies are down or 2-2 or whatnot, I will return to LA and play it by ear.
There are a lot of variables at work, but this much I can assure you: if the Phillies are in a position to win the World Series title, I am going to Philadelphia. This is going to happen. I have the vacation days to burn, 112,000 Delta SkyMiles at my disposal, and above all, a relentless desire to finally see victory, real, live victory.
(Having said this, I will take full responsibility if the Phils lose when I am in Philly. I promise.)
Prediction: Phillies in six.
music
Jason posted on October 10, 2008
Six Songs
(You can hear some of these songs on mixwit, but mixwit really let me down this time ’round and I wasn’t able to locate and add some of these to the playlist. Sorry.)
“Problem Child” AC/DC
Another kick-ass AC/DC song that I’ve discovered lately. I swear, I feel like a teenager. My buddy (not Site Guy) Brendan has been extolling the virtues of AC/DC pretty much since I’ve known him, and I’ve always brushed him and the band off - sure, as a red-blooded, beer-swilling, tit-loving American male, I love “Shook Me All Night Long” and “Thunderstruck” and the like just as much as the next guy. But I never thought of these guys are “real” rock, but rather almost like (but not quite as bad as) Aerosmith. Then I recently was reading a book about Guns N’ Roses (which should tell you all you need to know about how my level of intellect has dipped since moving to LA) and read that in their early days, they used to cover a song called “Whole Lotta Rosie.” I downloaded this song - since I am still spending at least 2.5 hours a day in the car and you guys haven’t been recommending too much new music to me - and was bloooooown away. “Whole Lotta Rosie” is just about the hardest-rocking song I’ve heard.
And then there’s this one. If there’s an award for “Best Opening Line of a Song,” may I humbly submit the following Bon Scott nugget: “I am hot/And when I’m not/I’m cold as ice.” After the first solo, the chorus comes back with a shaker in the background and Bon screams, “Just watch your step!” I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to rapture than I was when I first heard this song. This whole AC/DC epiphany for me is on par with discovery Led Zeppelin at 11, Jimi Hendrix at 12 and Elvis Costello at 16; I thought that this level of musical phanaticism was reserved only for youth. Guess I was wrong.
“Hammond Song” The Roches
Can something be at once creepy and soothing? This song has to be as close as possible, especially when you realize all three members of this group are sisters, even the one with the extremely deep voice. Just three sisters, one with a really deep voice, singing in harmony over acoustic guitar and minimal other sounds/effects. I don’t know if it makes me want to fall asleep or go batshit crazy and throw an unopened can of Diet Dr. Pepper through my office window.
“Blue” The Jayhawks
Similarly, just two dudes singing about how sad they are, and possibly asking each other to “stay behind.” Um, where do I sign up?
“Valentine’s Day Is Over” Billy Bragg
Incredibly depressing song, founding member of “Sad as Fuck” playlist.
“I Beg Your Pardon” Tom Waits
This song reminds me of New York. It also reminds me of cold weather; I want to sit somewhere high up in December and look out at the frozen city from across the East River and drink this. In a related story, it only took me about 28 years, but I think I like Tom Waits.
“Fashion Coat” The National
When they make the movie about my life, they’ll explore three central themes: my relationship with my dad (him as Real Man, me as mezzofinook); my unquenchable thirst for success juxtaposed with my unwillingness to do any real, actual work to make it happen; and my near-constant involvement in complicated, long-distance relationships. Toward the end of the movie, my character, played by whoever Meatloaf’s son is, will say at the end of an argument to his long-distance girlfriend, played by (hopefully) Zooey Deschanel or (more realistically) Nikki Blonksy, “Everywhere I am - it’s just another thing without you in it.” Then my character, again portrayed wonderfully and faithfully by Meatloaf’s son, will walk out of the door without saying a word. Then the next scene will be a shot of a hotel engulfed in flames and firefighters fighting to contain the blaze, and then a voiceover from a 1010 WINS saying, “Sad news tonight from Leeds, England - a massive hotel fire has claimed the the lives of 13 people, included among them author, raconteur and cad, Jason Mulgrew. Mulgrew was in Leeds reportedly to buy cocaine and authorities believe he may have started the fire while creating a tuna melt, but this has not been confirmed. Repeat: Jason Mulgrew, author, raconteur and cad, is dead.” Then there will be this picture with the caption, “Dedicated to the Memory of our Sometime Friend, Jason Mulgrew: 1979 - 2011.” Then “Hammond Song” will play over the end credits.
Let’s start the bidding now. I can start on the screenplay this weekend - I have some free time.
[Have a good weekend.]
the philly sports story and me
Jason posted on October 9, 2008
In a few hours, the first pitch will be thrown between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Philadelphia Phillies in the first game of the 2008 National League Championship Series. The winner of this series will go on to the World Series. To many of you, today’s game will be just another postseason baseball game. But I must tell you that there are other things at work here.
On paper, the Phillies appear to be the superior team. They won the NL East and finished 92-70, good second-best in the National League. They boast the last two NL MVP winners in first baseman Ryan Howard (2006) and shortstop Jimmy Rollins (2007), and if second baseman Chase Utley’s hitting hadn’t slowed as the year progressed, he might have joined them this year. They have great team defense (Rollins won a gold glove last year, Utley should win one this year); lots of speed on the base paths (Rollins and CF Shane Victorino combined to steal 83 bases, despite missing 25 and 16 games, respectively); lots of pop (four different players with at least 24 home runs, including Ryan Howard’s 48 home runs, tops in the NL); a legit ace in Cole Hamels, a #2 starter in Brett Myers who can be brilliant, and a “crafty veteran” as their #3, Jamie Moyer, the 45 year-old who led the team with 16 wins; a lights-out closer who did not blow a single save all season; and, perhaps most importantly, home field advantage for the series.
The Dodgers, on the other hand, don’t look as sexy on paper. They won the NL West, universally recognized as the worst division in baseball this season. Their regular season record was 84-78; four teams in the NL Central finished the season with a better record (so essentially the Dodgers spent most of their year playing crappy teams and still didn’t garner an impressive record). Their full season leader in home runs was 25 year old Andre Ethier, with only 20 homers. Their best pitcher this year was Chad Billingsley, who went 16-10 with a 3.14 ERA but is just 24 years old. Their closer (Saito) was hurt during the year and has returned without the same stuff, so their playoff closer is Jonathan Broxton, also 24 years old, a moose of a power-pitcher who has dominating stuff but has been known to bleed like a hemophiliac when cut. All this…meh.
(For a terrific and much more thorough statistical analysis of the two teams, go here.)
However, the Dodgers have four things going for them: 1) Manny Ramirez, who since joining the team 53 games ago has put up a video game-like stat line of 17 home runs, 53 RBI, a .396 average and a .489 on-base percentage; 2) manager Joe Torre, four-time World Champion with the New York Yankees and widely considered one of the wisest and most-respected managers in the game; 3) the return of their lead-off man Rafael Furcal, whose speed at the top of the lineup and defense from the shortstop position makes this team much more threatening; and 4) the fact that they not only just swept the Chicago Cubs, far and away the best team in the NL during the regular season, but absolutely handed their asses to them and then went home and fucked their wives. Seriously. It was a bloodbath.
For these reasons, the Dodgers are the trendy pick to beat the Phils and advance to the World Series, and the majority of media members are saying they’re going to win. They’ve got the even-keeled manager, the super-duper star, the momentum, the huge media market, and as I write this at least two Fox executives are masturbating in their offices about the potential ramifications of a Sox-Dodgers “Return of Manny and Torre to Boston” World Series.
But here’s the thing: the Philadelphia Phillies are going to win the National League Championship. Then they are going to win the World Series. Because it must be so.
Time for some history lessons.
There are thirteen US cities that have teams in all four major sports (baseball, football, basketball, and, still but for not too much longer, hockey). They are Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Detroit, Miami, Minneapolis, New York, Philadelphia, Phoenix, San Fran, and Washington, DC. (Note: We’re talking metropolitan areas, so SF has the Warriors in the NBA and the Sharks in the NHL, etc.) Below is a list of these cities with the last year in which any one of their teams won a championship and the team that won it:
Atlanta* — 1995 (Braves)
Boston — 2008 (Celtics)
Chicago — 2005 (White Sox)
Dallas — 1999 (Stars)
Denver — 2001 (Avalanche)
Detroit — 2004 (Pistons)
Miami — 2006 (Heat)
Minneapolis** — 1991 (Twins)
New York — Giants (2007)
Philadelphia — 1983 (76ers)
Phoenix — 2001 (Diamondbacks)
San Fran — 1994 (49ers)
Washington, DC*** — 1991 (Redskins)
* Only had all four sports since 1999
** Only had all four sports since 2000
*** Only had all four sports since 2005
Looking at that list, Philly has the longest championship drought of any team with four major sports teams, having won their last title in 1983. You may look at this list and say, “Yeah, well, the Twins or Redskins in ‘91 aren’t that far behind - that’s only eight years. Then the Niners and Braves aren’t far beyond those guys, with their last wins in 1994 and 1995. Doesn’t seem to be that much of a difference.”
Do you want to know the difference between 1983 and 1991 or 1994 or 1995 is? MY ENTIRE FUCKING YOUTH. The last time a Philly team won a championship, I was four years old. I didn’t get to enjoy it, because I’m not sure I could even wipe my own ass at the time. Instead, I came of age when the Phillies (save for 1993) blew, the Eagles were tempting but always a disappointment (then later a downright disgrace), the Sixers were hot-cold (meaning warm and cool, cold, colder) and the Flyers, while pretty solid in my high school years, still didn’t bring home any championships.
Here’s another way to look at this. The following is a list of total seasons since any of the sports teams won a championship.
Atlanta* — 34
Boston — 2
Chicago — 11
Dallas — 34
Denver — 29
Detroit — 14
Miami — 8
Minneapolis** — 30
New York — 2
Philadelphia — 100
Phoenix — 27
San Fran — 54
Washington, DC*** — 12
* Only had all four sports since 1999
** Only had all four sports since 2000
*** Only had all four sports since 2005
Looks a little different, doesn’t it? San Fran is closest to Philly, but when I was a kid and I was praying that Randall Cunningham would not get sacked again, they had Joe Fucking Montana and his Hall of Fame back-up, Steve Young, which is like choosing between a million dollars and a blowjob or a million dollars and a blowjob.
This kind of stuff I take personally. It infuriates me, and in some subconscious way probably explains why I get my best erections at funerals and why I follow women in malls to get a smell of their hair. For essentially all of my life, Philly fans like myself have sat idly by, watching other teams and cities take home championship after championship; teams like the Marlins, Angels, Buccaneers, and Hurricanes (of Carolina - apparently it’s an NHL team) have all won championships in recent years - I think I have more friends than those teams have fans (and I am not a very popular guy). Still, Philly fans are some of the most loyal in the country, if not the world. Personally, I dare not list the things that I would give up for a Philly championship, but let’s just say that one of these things rhymes with “best spectacle.”
But what I would give up for a Philly championship is all moot now, since this is the Phillies’ year. Here’s why.
I went to Boston College. I started in September in 1997 and graduated in May of 2001. During that time, the Boston sports scene was abysmal. Drew Bledsoe was at the helm of the Patriots, which is kinda like me becoming the editor of The Economist; I’m not a total half-wit, but it ain’t gonna go well. The Wikipedia entry for the Celtics is broken into a section for 1993-2001 and titled “Tragedy and Decline,” so that should tell you all you need to know about that franchise at that time. And lastly (because I’m not counting the Bruins), the Red Sox were getting worked year-in and year-out by their hated rival the Yankees.
In July of 2001, I moved to New York City, home of the World Champion New York Yankees, who had won the last three World Series and four of the last five. They appeared to be on their way to their fourth in a row when I set up shop in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. But then a funny thing happened: Mariano Rivera was on the mound and with one blooper, the Diamondbacks beat the Yankees in Game 7, a game I watched from my bedroom in Brooklyn, and the Yankees lost the World Series. Since then, the Yankees have not won a World Series.
Two hundred miles north and a week before this Yankees loss, Cement Feet Bledsoe got knocked out of a game and a sexy beast of a youngster named Tom Brady entered the game at quarterback for the New England Patriots. Brady led the team all the way to the Super Bowl, but the game seemed a formality, as the juggernaut St. Louis Rams, champions of two years ago, were 14 point favorites. But then a funny thing happened: New England won 20-17 on a last minute field goal and that Tom Brady guy was named MVP.
This set off a chain reaction, a feeding frenzy for Boston teams that saw six championships - three in football, two in baseball, one in basketball - since I moved away from the city. To recap:
Boston
1997-2001 (me in the city) - no championships
2001-2008 (me not in the city) - six championships
In August of 2007, I did a three-week stint in LA, working out of my firm’s LA office while pitching a new TV show idea. The show idea did not take off - there were offers, but nothing that I thought were in my best interest (once you sell a TV show idea, the buyer owns the idea forever, so they’d better pay you in more than buckets of clam chowder) - but I loved my time in LA. It was great to get out of my cramped Chinatown/Little Italy area, I was hanging out with friends I hadn’t seen in a while, and making out consistently. I hearted LA.
(Re: hearting LA - Um, whoops.)
In December of 2007, I made a decision: I was going to move to LA. I figured that I was almost 30, that I had been visiting the city for years and enjoyed it, so if I was going to “start over” somewhere, this was the best time and LA the best place. I wasn’t sure how the logistics would work out with work and all, but for me, it was a done deal: sometime in the next few months I was going to LA. So I started making arrangements.
At the time when I made this decision, the New York Giants were 7-4, but just about ready for one of their late season collapses, led first and foremost by their shaky quarterback, Eli Manning. They made it to the playoffs and beat the Bucs (in a game I cared so little about I barely watched it) the Cowboys (but the game was more a case of the Cowboys choking than the Giants rising to the occasion), and the Packers, improbably after missing a few field goals, to make it to the Super Bowl against the undefeated New England Patriots, 13 point favorites. But then a funny thing happened: the Giants won 17-14 on a last minute touchdown and that Eli Manning bum was named MVP.
************
The point: Every time I have left or have decided to leave a city, a championship has followed in my wake. Even when I left Philly to go to college, the Philadelphia Phantoms won the Calder Cup (hey, it ain’t much, but the Mulgrew Curse had to start somewhere). Now while I haven’t exactly “left” Philly per se, I did move as far away from Philly as I reasonably could (my ass wasn’t going to Tokyo or London or whatnot).
Add to this the long-standing feud I have had with God since the mid-80’s - I punish him by not dying and maintaining an unreasonable level of success despite a lack of both talent and an adult-sized penis, he punishes me with constant Philly losses - and it’s the perfect storm: The Philadelphia Phillies are going to win the 2008 World Series. There simply can be no other outcome. The Phillies are going to win the World Series and I will watch their victory in my shitty home in Los Angeles, alone, drinking canned beer and crying in my living room, lamenting the fact that I am here on the west coast where sports are about networking and being seen, while all my family, all my friends, all those I have cheered with and suffered with through the years are back in Philly, where it matters, where it’s everything. And I will weep and continue weeping for a long time, both for the end of the long-suffering misery of Philadelphia sports fans everywhere and because at that very moment, watching the team celebrate, sitting alone on my couch, seeing my cell phone buzz and fill with voicemail of joyful howls of victory and “Man, you should be here’s!” I will finally realize - God: W, Me: L.
(Go Phils)
away-home-away
Jason posted on October 8, 2008
I landed in New York just before midnight on Thursday, September 25, headed down to Philly for the weekend, and then came back to NYC and stayed there until Monday night (10/6) - eleven days back east, back home.
I know I’ve been doing a lot of “random thoughts”-type posts, but here are only five thoughts about my time back east that I’ve tried to make beefy:
Philly-love
Here’s the thing I’ve always thought with Philly: I’d never settle there. Never, ever, ever. I love my family, but I like them being just far enough that they can’t stop by unexpectedly. I love my friends there, but I like making an occasion out of seeing them (i.e. “Mulgrew’s home - let’s party!” or “Let’s go visit Mulgrew in New York - and party!”). I love the food there, but I like having arteries that are only 40% clogged, as opposed to the 85% clogged that they would become if I were to spend any significant amount of time in Philly.
In short, I love Philly at arms length. I like knowing it’s there, close by if I need it, but when living in NYC and in Boston (during college), I liked knowing it was down there, and I was up here.
Maybe it was because when I got there I was homesick for just about everything, or maybe I’m just getting older, but after this most recent visit, for the first time I could see myself moving back to Philly. Yeah, it gets ragged on a lot, but it’s an hour from the shore, an hour from the mountains, two hours from NYC and two hours from DC. It’s the sixth-largest city in the US, is walkable and compact, and has a burgeoning arts scene, loads of restaurants (and BYOBs!), and four major sports teams complete with a rabid fan base. Not only that, do you know what $400,000 will get you in Manhattan? A studio apartment in Yorkville with an additional $900 a month in maintenance. Do you know what $400,000 will get you in Philly? A sweet two-bedroom apartment in the most hoppin’ part of the city, right downtown, or a home - a real-life, actual home with a lawn and stuff - in the suburbs (I won’t point out that for $1000 a month, you can get a sick - yes, sick - one bedroom apartment; nor will I mention that people in my neighborhood - two miles from Center City, Philadelphia - pay around $450 a month for their one bedroom places). Finally, personally - and this is definitely the age talking - there is something to be said for keeping those who have known you your entire life close by.
Though being back there made me appreciate the city of Philadelphia in a whole new light, I’m not sure me going back there will ever happen. There are no big law firms in Philly (as if this blog didn’t already make me unemployable for the rest of my life), there’s no way I’m commuting on Amtrak to the tune of three hours a day (probably four door-to-door) and at the cost of $1100 a month (for a monthly Amtrak pass - I have friends who make the daily Philly-NYC commute), and lastly, I am simply unprepared to take the physical steps necessary to extend my life expectancy past the age of 36, steps that the increased consumption of meats, dairy and various fried foods would necessitate should I return to Philly. Still, it’s funny to see something you’ve known all your life in an entirely different light. Amazing what a little distance can do.
NYC-love (but different)
I can’t say anything more about my time in NYC than it was spectacular. Absolutely, bravo, 100% spectacular. Though I missed a couple of friends and by some incredible fate did not eat at Rosario’s once (more on this later), I went out every single night (every one!) and experienced just about everything that I love about NYC:
- I walked to and from work every day, enjoying the new, crisp weather in the mornings as I trudged 2.4 miles from the West Village down to Wall Street. Kingsley Amis wrote, “Anyone who walks up Fifth Avenue (say) on a sunny morning without feeling his spirits lift is an asshole.” Replace “Fifth Avenue” with “Sullivan Street in the fall” and I am totally on board with that.
- On Monday evening, I did something I haven’t done in ages: hit up a normal, pub-type bar to have some beers, all alone. You all know that I am a simple man: give me a beer in a pub-type bar and leave me alone, and I can sit contently for hours and hours. In LA, I don’t do this, both because I drive everywhere and because I haven’t found a single pub, even a lame pub. But on Monday, I walked through the East Village, stopped at Dempsey’s (really a charmless place, but it hit the spot) and polished off a few beers while I was waiting for my take-out from Sea Thai to be ready. I enjoyed my beer session so much that I actually left the bar, picked up the Thai food, and returned for a few more beers. I sat there, all alone, for almost three hours total, just loving life.
(When magic happens, you have no right to push it out the door, you jerk.)
- I saw and hung out with friends - lots of different groups of friends. In NYC, I have those friends I met in high school/are from Philly, my college buddies, buddies I’m friends with through work, people I met during my time in NYC outside of work, etc. This is different than LA, where I can list my best friends: 1) My buddy/old NYC roommate Brian; 2) my iPod; 3) my roommates Mark and Selena; 4) my iPhone; 5) Longing and Desperation (tie). I know other people in LA, but geography dictates we will never hang out - an NYC buddy suggested that I hang out with his friend who moved to LA the same time I did, and when she and I discovered over gchat that she lives in Silver Lake and I live in Redondo, we determined that we have a better chance of hanging out when we’re both back in NYC than we do while living in LA. We weren’t even joking.
But in NYC, one night it was dinner and drinks with Nicole (origin of friendship: college), the next dinner and drinks with Pat and Tracy (OOF: Philly/high school), the next some beers with Jeremy, Tim and Rachel (OOF: NYC), etc. So much variety, so much catching up, so much more fun that playing pool on the iPhone for three hours on a Thursday night.
- I actually watched a sporting event with other people who care about the team I’m rooting for. On Sunday, we had planned to get the band back together and head to Ship of Fools, our home base for Eagles games last year, but at the last minute we were able to snag a private room at Public House in midtown which would show both the Eagles and Phillies games. There, surrounded by 35 other Philly fans (our crew combined with two others, all friends or friends of friends) we watched the Eagles’ season end before our very eyes and our Phillies continue their improbable march toward the World Series. A magical day that was, for the most part, loads of fun.
(Seriously, though: the Eagles are done. In that division and that conference, you’re going to need 11 wins to make the playoffs. The Eagles have three losses already, two against division rivals, with two games against the Giants, at home versus Dallas, and at Washington still to come. Looking at this team the past three weeks, do they look capable of going 9-2 the rest of the way out - or even 8-3, which would put them at 10-6? No way. No way in hell. This season, and probably the McNabb era in Philly, is over. Mark my words. I hope I’m wrong, but mark my words.)
(Go Phils - more on this another time.)
Best hosts ever
For almost my entire time in NYC, I slept on a couch in two-bedroom apartment, on the sixth floor of a walk-up building, in a living room that is, generously, 7′x10′. Me, a giant, bearded, snoring man who, every night when he went to bed, had at least four beers in him. And yet not once - not once! - did my friends Jeremy and Meredith, my wonderful hosts, complain. Sure, Jeremy did once mention how much hair I was leaving all over the bathroom, but that’s ok - I deserved it. Of course, when you’re as hairless as a baby it’s easy to say that a few chest/back/beard/pubic hairs left around are an “unbelievable” amount, but still, I took his constructive criticism and worked on it. I can never repay them for their hospitality, although I tried my damnedest with cupcakes from Crumbs.
Sickness at the end
On Sunday night just before 10pm after the games and then some, I stumbled out of the new Brother Jimmy’s around 31st and 3rd (don’t ask). It was then, in my not-quite-drunken-stupor-but-probably-can’t-unwrap-a-condom state that I realized I had had neither Rosario’s pizza, which I ate drunkenly just about every weekend during my entire tenure in NYC, or Katz’s, the be-all and end-all of Jewish delis - both of which are within two blocks of each other on the Lower East Side. Once I got my bearings, I hailed a cab and was en route to the LES. On my last night in NYC, this was going to be fixed.
I stopped at Katz’s first, because it was close to closing time, and got my standard: pastrami, Swiss and mustard on a hero. I figured I would save this sandwich for lunch the next day and eat the Rosario’s that night, since the sandwich would keep and since Rosario’s, like penis, always tastes better after a dozen beers.
When walking to Rosario’s, I realized my problem. I had gotten a hotel room for Sunday night. I did this because I knew I’d be boozing all day Sunday and the following day I’d have to work a full day and then take a 6.5 hour flight back to LA right after work. After sleeping on a couch all week, I pricelined a hotel and got one for $100. Good investment, I thought.
But the catch was that the hotel room in which I was staying didn’t have a fridge. Therefore, I had nowhere to store the two-pound pastrami sandwich I was holding in my right hand. So I could eat the sandwich that night and forego the Rosario’s - there was no way I could eat both (this is not mine, but an actual sandwich from Katz’s), or throw the sandwich out. The former it was, since there was no way I was throwing out a perfectly good $17 sandwich.
So there I was, living the dream: 10:30pm, filled with Guinness and PBR, laying in bed in a hotel room in midtown Manhattan with my shirt off, the AC blasting, baseball on the TV, eating a giant pastrami sandwich. If a woman had come into the room and started blowing me, I would have immediately had to take out a gun and blow my brains out, since my life would never get any better from that point forward.
But this nirvana was not meant to last. I feel asleep around midnight and woke up at 2am with intense, double-over-worthy stomach pains. I immediately jumped on the toilet, but after several contractions, there was nothing in the chamber. I tried to go back to bed but was shortly up again, dealing with more contractions. My beautiful brown baby was finally born at approximately 4:16am (four pounds, nine ounces), and was eventually joined by a sister and two brothers, but the net result was that I was up from 2am until after 7am, in pain and pooping. Therefore, at just about 6:30am I emailed my boss and said I wasn’t going to come in. He’s a smart guy, and I’m sure he thinks I was just hungover, but this…this was no hangover. This was someone’s revenge; this was personal.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression…
The last time I returned to LA from visiting the east coast, I was overcome with rage about my move to LA. Why did I move to this terrible city? Why did I leave all my friends and all that fun back in NYC? What the hell was I thinking?
But my return this time was different. Because I took something important away from this last trip to NYC: it’s still there. It’s still all there, all the bars, all the restaurants, all the friends, all the good times, all the beers - everything is just where I left it. And I know now that I can go back at any time and pick up right where I left off (literally - I landed at 11:30pm on a Thursday night, took a cab straight to the bar, and was out until 2:30am).
In the meantime, I have to try to make the most of my time here in LA - because it will be short. I don’t know what this means and I’m sure it will ultimately backfire and piss me off/make me hate LA even more, but that’s for later. For now, I have to accept the decision I’ve made and make the most of it. I’m a grown-ass man and this is what life is about: accepting your fate and dealing with it, whether it’s a the end of your team’s season, eating a pastrami sandwich that makes your butt kill itself, or moving across the country and away from your friends and family.