Yesterday was George Harrison’s birthday. The famed concert promoter and friend of Ravi Shankar would’ve turned seventy-three years old.
With pitchers and catchers due to report to spring training in just three days, now is the time to find out what 2016 has in store for the Atlanta Braves. My latest post at Banished to the Pen, a collaboration with another Atlanta-based BttP contributor and, thanks to crowdsourcing, some of you, has everything you could want in an MLB season preview post: statistics, laments, graphs, hopes, prospect evaluations, and references to Levon Helm, Kansas, and marijuana. What more could you need?
Opening Day is less than two months away, making now the perfect time to digest this tasty season preview.
The full post is available here.
The 2016 Jam queue already is filling up, but we’re going to start with this one:
David Bowie was featured in the third-ever Friday Jam post on this site, and here he is now. Nobody turned around the end of a line with such elegance as Bowie, so as we all attempt to plow through life’s commas, I suspect we’ll all recognize that, even if time changes us, we’ll always trace time, at least in part, by reference to Bowie.
The overhead view is of me in a maze,
and you see what I’m hunting a few steps away.
And I take a wrong turn and I’m on the wrong path,
and the people all watching enjoy a good laugh.
Embarrassed with failure, I try to reverse
the course that my tread had already traversed.
So doing the trauma engulfing my dream
invaded through what was an unguarded seam.
The torrent of helplessness swept me away
to the cavern of shame and the hall of dismay.
Inside me a voice was repeating this phrase:
“You’ve lost it, you’ll never get out of this maze.”
You’ll never get out of this maze
Happy Thanksgiving, ALDLAND readers. Without presuming that you need any help entertaining yourselves today, here are a few suggestions to enhance your holiday festivities:
- Family football: The WSJ’s Jason Gay offers “33 More Rules for Thanksgiving Touch Football,” including what to do if great grandpa wants to run a Mike-Leach-diagrammed deep route.
- Real football: Say what you will about the 2015 Detroit Lions, but they’ve been on a roll ever since they took that trip to Green Bay. Today, they’re in Philadelphia to face Jordan Matthews and the Eagles as part of one of the oldest traditions in professional sports. Kickoff is at 12:30.
- Mitigating uncomfortable dinner table conversation: “How to Talk to Your Family About the Designated Hitter at Thanksgiving.” Don’t say we didn’t try to help.
- Music: The salve for an explosively terrible Lions’ loss on national television or Aunt Suzanne’s totally unique, insightful, nuanced, and definitely solicited opinions about Donald Trump is a set of extended holiday sounds sure to satisfy. Warm up with “Alice’s Restaurant Massacree” and then blow full-steam into The Last Waltz. That’s a recipe for a Thanksgiving that can’t be beat.
We are thankful for everyone– over six thousand of you in 2015 alone– who stumbled by this virtual space in the past year. Have a wonderful day, and get off the dang computer!
It was a tough week on the health front for a couple folks we keep track of here at ALDLAND. First, Phil Lesh, best known as the bass player for the Grateful Dead, announced that he has bladder cancer. Lesh previously was forced to undergo a liver transplant due to a hepatitis C infection, so word of a new, serious condition was worrisome. The good news is that Phil’s cancer is “non aggressive,” and it sounds like he plans to make a full recovery soon.
Three days later, new Detroit Tigers pitcher Daniel Norris revealed that he’d been battling thyroid cancer this season. Norris’ cancer is malignant, and he will be undergoing treatment in the offseason.
For this week’s Jam, here’s Phil doing his warbly best with the Grateful Dead, twenty years ago in Memphis:
Lem Barney had just finished a round of golf at Detroit’s Palmer Park Golf Course in the summer of 1968. Palmer, one of four prominent courses in the area, attracted many of the city’s black celebrities, including Joe Louis, Smokey Robinson and The Temptations.
Barney had heard Marvin Gaye, one of his favorite artists, lived nearby. With time to kill before heading back to training camp for afternoon practice, he figured why not? Gaye sang the score to Barney’s high school and college years at Jackson State University. The second year defensive back introduced himself to Palmer’s clubhouse employees, who quickly obliged with his request for Gaye’s address.
Barney easily found Marvin’s house, less than a mile-and-a-half from the course. When the legendary Motown crooner and avid sports fan opened the door, he instantly recognized Barney, inviting him in for breakfast.
For nearly two hours, the athlete and the singer chatted like long-time friends, bonded by mutual passions: sports and music. … Read More
(Via The Undefeated)
We’re clacking and lurching on a Red Line car to the Roosevelt stop. This is the exit for Chicago’s Soldier Field, site of “Fare Thee Well,” the last three shows for the band formerly known as The Grateful Dead. Ask me why I’m here and I can only give you elliptical answers.
On most Sundays, the Grateful Dead are my favorite rock band of all-time, but this seems destined for pure farce—a Necrophiliac spectacle where the hallucinogenic ashes of Saint Jerry spike the Fourth of July fireworks. During intermission, the field will split open and he’ll ascend in a floating mausoleum, wax mannequin covered in tie-die, exhumation costs covered by the largesse of Ben and Jerry. A Jerry hologram was planned, but couldn’t be properly brought to fake life in real time. The Jerry impersonator from Half Baked was waylaid with prior Independence Day plans. One of these is true.
Somehow, four old guys, Bruce Hornsby, and Trey from Phish sold 65 percent more tickets per show than Taylor Swift—more than every summer festival except Coachella. And there may be more floral garlands here. The Golden Road to Devotion now costs a couple mortgage payments. No free press passes either. Entrance meant that you won the lottery, sold spare appendages on the black market, or finessed the Patchouli circuit plug. Maybe you’re one of the hundreds outside with a cardboard sign that reads: “Hoping for a Miracle.” … Read More