A Jersey to Bronx Tale

Posted By jersey2bronx on May 20, 2012

Six Feet Under was one of my favorite shows.  It was more than just entertainment – it was real and abstract art combined, meshing together to display life, love, and death in complete honesty.  Just like life it could be funny, beautiful, sad, uncomfortable, and brutal – sometimes all at once.  Just as in life, relationships, family dynamics, and lives themselves changed in a moment’s notice – lovers turned to haters, friends turned to enemies, and the living became the dead.  No one was safe, and as viewers we tuned in each week without any guarantees of our favorite characters escaping unscathed.  It was life in its purest form, in the random and scary way we don’t generally like to think about when it comes to reality.  On this show, as in life, the wolf was always at the door.

One of the most brilliant moments of the show was the series finale, which I consider to be the greatest ending of a series in the history of television.  I will not spoil it for anyone who has not seen it (and I do highly recommend you see it – not without seeing the entire series first, of course), but I will say that what was great about it is that it echoed many of the key themes of the series without “over-doing it” as so many series finales are wont to do.  It also provided the one thing we all seek out of life but aren’t always fortunate enough to get – closure.

There was, however, one moment in this episode that always bothered me, because I have never really been sure what it meant.  I won’t give specifics on the context, or the characters involved, again for fear of spoiling the experience for anyone who has yet to give this brilliant show a try, but the moment revolved around someone taking a picture while being told, “You can’t take a picture of this – it’s already gone.”  The line and moment in the episode have always seemed ambiguous and obligatory to me – a forced dramatic moment that pushed together meaningful sounding but ultimately insignificant words.  Recent events in my life, however, have given me insight into these words and this moment, and I now believe I “get it.”

The line stands out because it exists as a counter-argument to the concept of closure that the finale hinges itself upon, and the comfort that closure provides.  It reminds us that in life there are no guarantees but what we have in the here and now, and that the cruelest joke in existence is that life moves so quickly that by the time we stop to appreciate the present, it has already moved into the past.  Everything in the here and now changes into something else, and eventually everything ends.  If we’re lucky, the future resembles the present enough that we are granted a stay of execution of sorts, but nothing stops the wheel from turning, and life ultimately demands that we keep moving forward.  The hardest thing in life is letting go, especially when we don’t see the need for something to end (although, do we ever see the need?), but we must because try as we might we cannot frame the present and take it with us into the future.  If we choose to hold on, then we can only live in the past – a lifeless, lonely void that has been abandoned by everyone who has chosen to move forward.   This is not to say we cannot take our memories with us – after all, the character in the show who is told they cannot take the picture does, in fact, take the picture anyway (spoilers!).  While we must let go, it does not mean we have to stop caring about who and what we have lost, nor do we have to abandon the meaningful ways in which our life experiences have changed us, for the lessons of the past should always guide us through the present and into the future.  We honor our past, and the events and people who have touched our lives by moving on, and more important by doing so we honor ourselves.

Understanding this line now, seven years after the finale of Six Feet Under aired, I cannot help but be moved to express once again how very brilliant and meaningful this show was.  It was a true slice of life, full of beauty, tragedy, and brutal honesty, and just like life it presented us with moments that confounded or troubled us for a while until experience helped us come to a greater understanding of what happened.

Category: Life, Television | No Comments »
Tags:

Posted By jersey2bronx on March 24, 2012

I’ve often been criticized for my generally optimistic view of the world.  I am an idealist – I am capable of seeing things as they are, but I tend to focus more on how they should be.  It is at the same time one of my greatest attributes, and one of my greatest flaws.  In any situation, I always hope for the best of outcomes, and I often push myself (and sometimes others) to see possibilities that may seem slim, or not even apparent.  I have a very hard time “giving up the ghost” as it were.   I do this on a personal level, and a global level, and I often do it to a fault.

It is for this reason that events like the Trayvon Martin case tend to have a profound impact on me.  Stories like this make it hard to be an idealist or an optimist.  They make it very easy to give into cynicism and despair.  We live in a society that is divided by race, gender, class, sexual orientation, and countless other categories that should no longer hold weight in the year 2012.  To fail to recognize that is naive.  However, when one is an idealist, one does not see this as a permanent condition, but as a battleground for change.  An idealist accepts that the wheels of progress move slowly, but they do move forward.  However, every so often, the idealist’s faith is tested.

On February 4, 1999, a West African immigrant named Amadou Diallo was shot and killed by four plain-clothed NYPD officers outside of his Bronx, New York home in a case of mistaken identity.  He took out his wallet, presumably to show identification, and was perceived to be brandishing a weapon.  As a result, the officers fired 41 bullets at him, killing him with 19 direct hits.  The now infamous “41 shots” took down an innocent, unarmed man, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong skin color.

On February 26, 2012, approximately thirteen years later, a 17 year old African-American kid named Trayvon Martin was shot and killed in Sanford, Florida.  He was gunned down by George Zimmerman, a member of the local “Neighborhood Watch” who deemed Martin suspicious, primarily because he chose to wear a hooded sweatshirt (on a rainy night).    Zimmerman was not arrested on the night of the incident.  He claimed that the shooting took place in self defense, and this was taken at face value by the local authorities despite the fact that no weapon was found on Martin, only a bag of Skittles candy and can of Arizona iced tea.  Further to this, witness accounts and a recording of Zimmerman’s own call to 911 would later show that Zimmerman followed Martin that night, despite being explicitly told not to by the 911 operator.  The tape and claims by witnesses would also show that Martin, not Zimmerman cried out for help that night just before shots were fired.  To date, however, no charges have been filed against Zimmerman.

Has progress moved forward, if at all?  Will things ever change?  The idealist/optimist in me wants to believe so, but he’s finding it pretty hard.  It’s tempting, of course, to look at the response the Trayvon Martin case has gotten – the protests, the “Million Hoodie March,” and the solidarity that like-minded people have shared via social-networking.  As John Lennon profoundly sang, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one,” and just a glance at my twitter feed tells me that I am indeed not alone in believing that our society can do better; can be better.  However, how much of this call-to-arms in the name of justice is reactionary and momentary, and how much of this passion for change will exist once this story fades away into history?  The cynic within me, who is always at war with the idealist, believes this is the case, and that this shared passion will subside, only to rise again when the next unlucky person gets killed just for living in his American skin.  I’m tempted to believe the cynic is right.

…but I cannot ever let that cynic win.  He makes a strong point, and he sure seems to have a foothold on the truth as things stand now.  However, I refuse to let myself give in to cynicism, despair, and pessimism, if for no other reason than I need to believe.  If there is no hope for the future, then there is no hope for anything, and if there’s no hope for anything – well, then there’s nothing left to live for.  At the end of the day, I’d rather be beaten down for believing in possibilities than give in to a hopeless world without any power for change to occur.   I know I’m not alone, but if by some chance I am, that’s all the more reason not to give in.  The flame of hope will not be extinguished on my watch.  The last one out shuts out the light, and I’m not leaving.

Like I said… I’m an idealist to a fault.

Category: Life, Politics, Uncategorized, World Events | No Comments »
Tags: 41 shots, amadou diallo, cynic, cynicism, despair, idealism, idealist, optimist, optomism, pessimism, pessimist, racism, trayvon martin

Posted By jersey2bronx on June 13, 2011

Not everyone who hates is a “hater.”

If you find yourself disgusted by the overwhelming number of basketball fans (and even some non-basketball fans) who are reveling in the NBA Championship collapse of LeBron James and the Miami Heat; or worse, if you find yourself likening this phenomenon to the age-old phenomenon of “hating on a good [team, player, etc],” you are sadly missing the point.

Hating on a team  “just because they’re good” is ignorant.  It’s a jealousy-based, immature response towards a team that has experienced more success than your favorite team (usually because they are willing to do certain things such as outspend the competition).  That brand of hating is despicable, and should always be called out with a response such as, “Worry about your own team.”  However, that is not the brand of “hating” that is going on here, because this was never about one team’s talent or advantage over the rest of the league.  This was about character – LeBron James’ character, to be specific, which was revealed to all on ESPN approximately one year ago when he made his fateful “decision.”

Let me say up front that I have no issue with LeBron, or any player exercising their right to free agency.  I also have no problem with free agency in and of itself.  Athletes are entertainers, and they work in a billion dollar industry.  Every player has the right to earn his market value, even if that means moving from one team to the next.  On the same token, every owner has the right to put the best possible team on the court, field, ice, what have you.  If that means spending a ridiculous amount of money to put together an all-star lineup, kudos to the team that does it.  That’s how it works.  This being the case, LeBron was not “wrong” in principle for moving to Miami.  He was wrong, however, in HOW he did it.

In life, there is always a right way to handle something, and a wrong way.  LeBron handled his departure from Cleveland in the worst way possible.  For starters, he was an Ohio native, something he played off of and sold to the public as part of his image from day one.  In doing so, he communicated the message to the fans in Cleveland, “I’m one of you.”  When he famously proclaimed, “I got a goal, and it’s a huge goal, and that’s to bring an NBA championship here to Cleveland, and I won’t stop until I get it,” the words were taken as a promise that he wasn’t going anywhere until the Cavaliers won it all, and one would have to stretch quite a bit to see it as anything other than that.

Now, even if he could be forgiven for that statement – even if one could argue that all athletes speak with a certain degree of hyperbole, and that  their words should be taken with a grain of salt, it would be difficult to give LeBron a pass for what came next.  I’m referring, of course, to “the Decision.”  Now, it’s one thing to tell your team and fans (hometown team and fans, by the way, in case that point was missed) that you’re moving on to greener pastures.  It’s quite another to hold a self-aggrandizing TV spectacle to sever your ties on international television.  It was like breaking up with your girlfriend at the prom over the DJ’s sound system, and then making out with your new girlfriend under the crystal ball.  The city of Cleveland, a city decimated by poverty, unemployment, and general despair even before the economic collapse was given a giant, unnecessary, public kick while they were down.

…and the foot belonged to one of their own.

Now, I could go on about the months that followed… the bragging about all the rings his new team would get, and his sad attempt at “playing victim” with the whole Nike, “What Should I Do?” ad campaign, and the many ways he has failed to show any semblance of humility or even acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t handle this situation very well and that those whom he slighted were justified in feeling that way.  I could do that, because the examples are there.  Everyone sees them.  Everyone who rooted against Miami all year, especially throughout the playoffs, and most certainly throughout the finals knows all about them.  They have been fueling the anti-Heat frenzy all along.

Rooting against LeBron and the Heat was never about wanting to see a great team, or great player fail for the sake of seeing a giant fall.  It was always simply about not wanting to see a bad “decision” rewarded.

Category: Rants, Sports | No Comments »
Tags:

Posted By jersey2bronx on May 8, 2011

“I have forsworn myself. I have broken every law I have sworn to uphold. I have become what I beheld and I am content that I have done right.”

-  Elliot Ness, in The Untouchables

Lately, I’ve been having a crisis of conscience.  Perhaps conscience is the wrong word to use, as my dilemma is not one which includes any feelings of guilt, self-doubt, or inner conflict.  Nonetheless, recent events and my reaction to them have forced me to re-examine the validity of my beliefs and my core philosophy.

A week ago, we killed Osama Bin Laden.  The architect of 9/11 was gunned down by U.S. Special Forces, in what could best be described as a mafia-style hit.  There was not much of a struggle, and by all accounts the man was unarmed.  Under the direction of our Commander in Chief, our military swooped into a residential neighborhood and killed a man in cold blood in his home.

-And I’m fine with it.

Now, if you’d told me the same story but omitted the name, “Osama Bin Laden,” my response would have been quite different.  I would have screamed about injustice and surrendering the moral high ground.  I would have quoted Ghandi and MLK, and pointed out how “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”  I would have argued how this act ultimately made things worse, not better.

My response WITH the words, “Osama Bin Laden” ???  I cheered.  I cried tears of joy.  I popped a bottle of champagne.

-And this was not just an “in the moment” response.  I woke up feeling joy, and a week later as I write this, I’m still happy about it.

Naively, I thought EVERYONE would feel this way.  It certainly seemed that way last Sunday night/early Monday morning, as the news showed people all over the country gathering and cheering and reacting with everything from tears of relief to outright jubilation.  Twitter and Facebook were exploding with expressions of gratitude towards our armed forces, remembrances of 9/11, and bits of dark humor directed at the fallen Bin Laden.  Overall, there was a feeling of unity not seen since the days just after 9/11, except this time we were brought together to rejoice, not to mourn.

However, in the days that followed, the naysayers began to say nay.  Many of the sentiments that I would have expressed had this not been about Bin Laden began to surface.  People, many of whom I love and respect, began posting the Ghandi and MLK quotes on their Facebook walls (some turned out to be false quotations, but that’s besides the point).  Friends began to remind me, and anyone who would listen, that “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”  While I respected their opinion (and still do), and would normally line up with them and share the same sentiment with the world, I could not find myself agreeing with them this time.  I was, and still am, unmoved by an argument of “higher moral authority” when it comes to this man.

So, why is Bin Laden an exception to my moral philosophy?  As an American and a New Yorker, did 9/11 hit too close to home for me to be objective?  Am I a hypocrite?  Or is it possible that maybe, just maybe, there really are exceptions to every rule, even the ones about morality.  Perhaps once in a while a figure appears in human history who must be put down.  Someone whose actions must be met with an equal and opposite re-action to show that, if nothing else, one cannot bring destruction upon the rest of us without bringing destruction upon himself.  Perhaps, like a controlled burn of a forest, we must sometimes sacrifice a bit of our humanity in order to save it.

I don’t really have the answer.  All I know is that I am happy that we killed Osama Bin Laden, and I don’t feel the need to apologize for it.

Category: Politics, Rants, World Events | 5 Comments »
Tags:

Posted By jersey2bronx on December 16, 2010

So… I’m at Stew Leonard’s this afternoon and I’m trying to get in and out as fast as humanly possible.  The place was crowded but not too insane, so I figured this would not be an issue.  It wasn’t, until I reached the soup & prepared meals section…

Now, for those of you who have never encountered the magic that is Stew’s, you should know that the store has a rather unique setup.  Unlike a traditional grocery store with parallel aisles broken down by category, Stew’s essentially has ONE long aisle that stretches and winds through the length of the store.  It sounds crazy, but it actually works.  Stew’s gets the consumer to walk past every one of their products (leading to impulse purchases galore), and the consumer gets to relax a bit, knowing that he/she is going to pass every “section,” lessening the likelihood that they will forget “that one item they really came for.”

…ok, now back to the story…

So, I’m walking through the store, enjoying my Stew Leonard’s shopping experience as I usually do, strolling the winding aisle, contemplating my day and the aisle itself (it is such a stress-free and orderly way to shop, almost makes one wonder if the concept was developed by Temple Grandin).  I’m having a grand old time – traffic is flowing nicely, the sample people are out (Hot pastrami, New England clam chowder, meatballs, homemade potato chips… yum, yum, yum!), and life is good.   Then, I reach the soup & prepared meals section and it all goes to hell.  A traffic jam ensues, and not only are I and my cart completely brought to a standstill, I cannot get anywhere near the mashed potatoes and cole slaw that I need to complete my vision for dinner this evening (the main component, for those of you scoring at home – BBQ brisket sliders).  And why the back-up, you ask?  Well… apparently two old birds decided that the place to exchange pleasantries and catch up on old times was right smack dab in the middle of the god-damned aisle (well, maybe not in the “middle” – they were off to the side a bit, but between them and a display case in the middle of the aisle, 3/4 of the traffic flow was completely blocked off).   People slowly made their way past, some commenting (especially if they needed something in that section), but most just moving on.  I would have joined the latter group, but I had business in this section, and wouldn’t you know it… they were blocking the effing cole slaw.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I’m not a confrontational person.  I’d like to say that this is because I have a great deal of patience and understanding, but truthfully it is because I despise confrontation.  When forced, I can throw down with the best of them (and oddly enough, I do enjoy the “art” of a good verbal skirmish, or at least the sarcastic prick who lives inside me does), but at the end of the day, I’d rather not expend the energy, waste the time, or deal with the potential aftermath.  All things being equal, I’d rather just move on and vent about it later (usually in 140 characters or less).  Unfortunately, however, there are times when our hand is forced; times when no one, not even Dr. Bruce Banner, could walk away.  This afternoon was one of those times.

So, here I am, having picked up my brisket and mash, needing only the cole slaw to complete my trifecta of deliciousness for tonight’s meal, and standing in my way are two birds who think that the perfect place for an afternoon social is the middle of a grocery store aisle, blocking the salads.  When I made my way closer to them, I started out taking the high road by saying, “Excuse me,” and motioning towards the shelf I needed to reach, foolishly thinking that at least one of these two ladies would come to their senses and realize, “Good god, look what we’re doing,” or at the very least move to the side for a moment before continuing in their cavalcade of inconsiderate socialization.   That is not what happened, however.  What did happen was a raised finger.  Yes – one of these two unholy bitches raised her finger up to me, as if to say, “My friend is talking, so you need to wait.”  I was stunned.

…but not stunned enough to stand there and wait.  Instead, I found myself stepping in-between the two women, pushing finger-woman’s cart aside even, to grab the cole slaw.  I did it without even thinking – it was as if my body decided on it’s own to have a, “Oh no you diiii-int!” response and went on autopilot.  My mouth would soon get its chance to fly as well, because my intrusion into these ladies’ personal space (well, the personal space they were stealing from the patrons of Stew Leonard’s this afternoon) did not go over well.  Woman number two decided to make the, “Well I never!” gaspy sound, to which I responded, “I said excuse me.”  This prompted finger-woman to tell me, “That was very rude.”

I shit you not.  This woman, who apparently believes her conversations take precedence over grocery store traffic, other people’s food needs, and basic common sense etiquette; a woman who apparently believes the world should wait until her friend is done telling her about Winthrop Jr.’s 3rd birthday or whatever the hell was so important – THIS WOMAN was calling me rude.

Being a teacher, and someone who often goes out of his way to try and see where someone else is coming from, I quickly deduced that perhaps this individual and her friend simply didn’t understand what rudeness meant.  Being a teacher, I decided to explain it to them.

“I am not rude.  Rude is blocking an aisle in a grocery store, especially a grocery store that only has one aisle.  Rude is blocking items that people would like to buy so that you can carry on a conversation like it’s the library.  Rude is also talking in a library, but I bring it up as an example because I’m sure you’re the kind of people who would do that too.  But you know what’s really rude?  Hearing someone say excuse me, and not stopping to realize where you are and what you’re doing, and failing to conclude on your own just how rude you are being.”

I can’t say I put it EXACTLY as succinctly as that (short-term memory is a bitch), but it was pretty damn close.  In retrospect, I wish I’d worked in a line about the finger, and a thousand other lines that popped in my head when reflecting on the drive home,  but oh well…  I’m nonetheless pretty damn proud I said what I said and that I was able to get it out without either of them interrupting me.  I’m even prouder that neither of them had a word to say after my mini-rant, leaving me walk of into the sunset like the conquering hero.  I’d like to think that I stunned them into silence, and caused them to reflect in shame on their behavior, but I’m sure the truth is probably something closer to them thinking, “Holy shit, what a psycho.  We’d better just sit still and hope he goes away.”

They most likely picked up their conversation right after I left, but that was for the next pissed off customer to handle.  As for me, it was off to the deli, and some fresh roast turkey for tomorrow’s lunch.  I hope I have cole slaw left to enjoy with it…

Category: Attention Whore, Life | 2 Comments »
Tags:

Posted By jersey2bronx on November 11, 2010

Hello Blog Readers (all 3 of you!),

It has been a long time since I’ve logged an entry here, although I suspect that is about to change.  As those of you who follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, or that thing we call “real life” may know, Melissa and I have begun the Couch to 5K running plan.  We are giving up our decidedly sedentary lifestyle in favor of an activity I have openly mocked for years….

Yes, we are becoming joggers.  Not overnight, mind you – the Couch to 5K program (which you may read about by clicking on the link in the paragraph above, if you’ve not done so already) is one which takes lazy fat bastards such as myself and gets them up off their asses and moving, gradually pushing them towards a more healthy, active lifestyle.  Ideally, the program takes 9 weeks, although it can be adapted to suit one’s individual needs.  Melissa and I are already guessing it is going to take longer for us, and we’re ok with that as long as we’re doing it honestly and pushing ourselves further each day than we did the day before.  Melissa has some rather lofty future goals (you can read her take here), but at the end of the day all I care about is no longer feeling like my body is much older than it actually is.  I’ve got just over a year to go before I turn 40 – I’d really like to reach that milestone without back pain, shortness of breath, and aching muscles constantly reminding me that I’m less capable than I once was.  Age catches up with all of us, but if we sit around on our asses, then we make ourselves easy prey.  That knowledge has finally sunk into my thick skull, and I’m done sitting around.  I can’t escape aging, but I can start making its job harder.  From here on in, the hands of time are going to have to give chase.

Inspirational words and self-promises aside,  I realize that this is not going to be easy.  I know there will be times I will want to quit.  Hell, I wanted to quit halfway through day one – the “introductory” step.  I know it will get harder.  Long neglected muscles will ache, and my lungs will choke, and my head will pound, and I’ll hear the voice of Montgomery Scott screaming, “Capt’n, we’re givin’ er all she’s got!  She can’t take any more!” and I’ll need someone to make sure I press on.  I’ll need someone to hold me accountable, or better yet – someone to make me hold myself accountable.  Melissa and I will do this for each other to a certain point – in fact, that’s one of the reasons we’ve decided to do this TOGETHER – one person pushes another, while the other one pushes right back.  However, that can only work for so long, because as much as our successes or failures may be intertwined in this venture, so are our desires.  We can push each other to go farther, but we can also look at each other and say, “Have you had enough?  I know I have.”  It’s hard to push someone to keep going when you yourself want to quit, and you can make the pain stop by simply giving into each other in a moment of weakness.  You can only suppress your id so far, and when your partner’s id wants to come out and play with yours, it’s game over.  It’s human nature, and the reason why every troop, team, or individual goes farther with a drill sergeant or coach doing the lion’s share of pushing.

That’s where YOU come in, or should I say, this blog comes in.  By keeping a public journal of sorts and tracking my progress online, I will be forced to keep pushing on.  I will be aware that you are out there, watching to see if I’m still going at it, or if I’ve given up.  If I do quit, you will see it, and I’ll have to deal with that knowledge.  Maybe you will become vocal, and whether your words be positive or negative, maybe they will motivate me to stay on, or get back on that proverbial horse.  Hopefully, just the fact that “everyone will know” I’ve quit will create the external accountability I am banking on.  You, the reader will be the Louis Gossett Jr. to my Richard Gere, or the Herb Brooks to my 1980 U.S. Olympic Hockey team, or perhaps you will simply be the external agent of my conscience – even if you never type back a single word.

Whatever your level of involvement, I thank all of you in advance.

Category: Couch to 5K, Life | 3 Comments »
Tags: Couch to 5K, insanity, jogging, running, weight loss

Posted By jersey2bronx on February 18, 2010

Make no mistake.  I love the Olympics, especially the Winter Games, and I have been thoroughly entertained by this year’s competition.  From Apolo Anton Ohno’s amazing speed and Shaun White’s incredible acrobatics, to mogul skier Alexandre Bilodeau’s winning gold for his native Canada (the first on home soil) and for his brother with Cerebral Palsy, there has been much to cheer for and take in.   However, this doesn’t change the fact that the Vancouver games have been one of the most problem-plagued ongoing events in modern history.

First, there was the tragic death of Georgian Luger Nodar Kumaritashvili on a track that had previously drawn criticism from individuals within the sport for being “too fast” and unsafe.  Now, most reasonable-minded folks think luge is a sport that is too fast and unsafe on ANY track, so when people who are actually part of the sport make comments like that, how does nobody listen?  This is a tragedy that clearly could have been avoided, and a shame that will no doubt weigh over Vancouver and the IOC for years to come.

Next, there was the Opening Ceremonies, and the failed lighting of the Olympic Cauldron – a moment that will likely come to symbolize these games in more ways than one.  Who will ever forget the pained look on “the Great One” Wayne Gretzky’s face, as he, and the rest of us, waited endlessly for “something” to happen that never did?  What an odd, and somewhat anticlimactic moment it was seeing the partial torch go up, even though we were later treated to a “save” by Gretzky as he rode across town in the back of a pickup truck, getting pelted by rain all the way, to light the “real” Olympic Cauldron in an outdoor park for all to see.  Of course, it wasn’t until about a week later that it actually could be seen by all, once the city finally bowed to public pressure to remove fences that were obstructing views.

Finally, there’s the seemingly endless string of postponements due to track conditions (not to mention countless stumbles, falls, and other challenges the competitors do not normally have to contend with).  It is unfair to put all of this on Vancouver, as the region has been experiencing its mildest winter in years, with record lows and excessive rainfall at the most inopportune of times.   However, it’s not only the outdoor tracks that have been experiencing problems.  Due to malfunctions by the new-fangled “green” electric ice resurfacers, which rendered the speed tracks useless by carving deep grooves into the ice and belching out hot water and ice shavings, several indoor events were delayed (and in a victory for “old school” ice cleaning, a tried and true 10 year old Zamboni was brought in from Calgary to fix the mess, and get the games back off the ground).

Again, this is not to say that the games have not been worth watching – there have certainly been enough moments to cling to, and there will likely be more before the flame is extinguished.  It also goes without saying that this is not the first, nor is it the only city to have issues.  The Olympics are perhaps one of the most challenging undertakings any city can accept.  It just seems that in this case, in the wake of so many problems plaguing the games, Vancouver may have bitten off more than it could chew.   London (2012 Summer), Sochi (2014 Winter), and Rio (2016 Summer) should be taking note, as should any and all cities putting in bids to host the Olympics in the future.

Oh, and just a song before I go…

Who the hell is running NBC these days?  Showing events to the West Coast on tape delay, even in prime time, when those events are happening LIVE ON THE WEST COAST?!   Really?!   That kind of stupidity speaks volumes.   But hey… at least they haven’t booted Bob Costas in favor of Jay Leno.  That’s something.

Category: Rants, Sports | No Comments »
Tags: alexandre bilodeau, apolo anton ohno, bob costas, ceremony, jay leno, luge, nbc, olympic games, olympics, shaun white, torch, vancouver 2010, wayne gretzky, winter games

Posted By jersey2bronx on February 10, 2010

Category: Life | No Comments »
Tags: blizzard, bronx, new york city, nyc, snowstorm

Posted By jersey2bronx on January 23, 2010

All of New York has JETS fever at the moment.  The bastard franchise of New York, the other NY football team, the non-GIANTS, or whatever you like to call them 11 months out of the year – those guys are on top of the New York football world at the moment, carrying with them the hopes and dreams of New York, New Jersey, and even parts of Connecticut.  If you live in the tri-state area, you have no doubt noticed things have gotten much greener lately.  JETS merchandise is selling like hotcakes at MODELLS and other assorted sporting goods stores.  People are proudly displaying their JETS pride with hats, t-shirts, sweaters, jerseys and jackets.  Suddenly, New York and its surrounding area has become Jets country.   All I can say is, WHAT THE FUCK???!!!

Don’t get me wrong – I am very happy for the Jets, and I am pulling for them with all of my heart and soul.  However, I am not a “Jets fan” and nor would I pretend to be.   I have never had any ill will towards the Jets, unless they were playing or could otherwise impact the fortunes of my beloved Pittsburgh Steelers, and I’d even go so far as to say that I’ve always kind of liked them.   They are the prototypical underdog;  “lovable losers” with a Charlie Brown-esque “football pulled out from under them” quality that makes them somewhat endearing.  That said, they are not my team.  That means, I can and do root for them (again, so long as they don’t get in the way of my team), but I can never consider myself a “fan” of theirs.  That is a term reserved only for the special individuals who have lived and died with this team, who have suffered through the bad times, who have endured mockery and mean-spirited jabs from fans of every other team (especially from fans of the other, more beloved New York franchise).  This is their time – not mine, and not yours.  Their admission to this ride was paid long ago, and has been paid again and again over the years, and the cost has been much more than that of a New Era ballcap.

I’m sure the same phenomenon is happening in other cities, and that it is not limited to the Jets.  I’m sure that Saints, Vikings, and Colts merchandise are clearing shelves as well from sea to shining sea.  Of course, its easy to root for a team like the Saints because they have come to epitomize the devastation, and subsequent re-birth of New Orleans, but if you put on a Saints jersey without being a fan, or intending to make a lifelong commitment to becoming a fan, then you are insulting every real fan of that franchise who has been with them since they were “the ‘Aints,” the joke of the National Football League.  Similar things could be said for the Vikings fans, who have had to endure years of great teams that decided to choke at the worst possible moment, or the Colts who nobody cared about for years after they packed up and moved out of Baltimore, until Mr. Manning showed up.   The point is this – fandom is earned, not bought.  You can’t stay away from the bad times, only to buy in when times are good.  You also shouldn’t be so quick to abandon YOUR team, whoever that team may be, just because they haven’t made it as far as your newly adopted one.  It is not fair, and it is not right, and it only serves to put a spotlight on how much of a jackass you and the other bandwagon fans are.

So… this Sunday, and on Super Bowl Sunday, pick a team and root them on.  Wear similar colors, if you want to show your support; but don’t go out and buy merchandise and pretend that you are a part of that team’s fanbase.  Don’t diminish the true fans’ moment by trying to make yourself a part of it.  They’ve waited through years of struggle and disappointment for this; you waited on line at MODELLS.

Category: Fandom, Rants, Sports | No Comments »
Tags: bandwagon, fans, football, jets, nfl, Sports

Posted By jersey2bronx on January 2, 2010

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before….

Man begins a blog, and gets all hyped up about it.  Posts frantically for a couple of weeks, and then leaves his blog for dead.   We all know this story.  In fact, readers of my old blog (if any of them actually existed) know this story all too well.

I will admit it – I’m a blog abandoner.  A discarder.  A quiter.  A downright, no good flat-leaver.

Of course, I’m not without my reasons, and I’ve spelled these reasons out before.  I won’t go into detail on them, for fear of rehashing old blog posts and boring the 2 or 3 of you who actually read my old blogs.  I will simply say this – I have a tendency to let my inspiration and desire to post be thwarted by an internal, “Who the @#$% are you, and why should anyone care?” response.  The last thing in the world that I want is to be seen as just another self-indulgent prick who thinks he’s funny, or who believes that his opinion matters so much he has to post it on the web and say, “LOOK AT ME!  LOOK AT ME!”  To avoid this, I’ve rationalized blogging as something I was doing strictly for my own enjoyment, and as an exercise in writing, and I’ve said as much in a number of my blogs.  I’ve sanitized previous blogs to ensure they were free of self-indulgent-prickiness (as well as an audience), and then I’ve found myself wondering why I end up getting bored and quitting them.

Thanks to Twitter and Facebook, I finally know the answer.  You see, after about a year and a half of tweeting with strangers, and facebooking with friends and family new and old, I’ve come to the conclusion that I AM funny, and that my opinion DOES matter so much to me that I have to post it on the web and say LOOK AT ME!  LOOK AT ME!  In short, I AM a self-indulgent prick!  I’ve just been in denial for a very, very long time.

So, after this breakthrough I came to the inevitable conclusion that I needed to not only start blogging again, but also to take it up a notch and register my own domain.

So, here it is – www.Jersey2Bronx.com, my little home on the web.  I sincerely hope you enjoy your visit, and that you realize that despite the attention-whoredness syndrome I just described, what I would love most on here is INTERACTION.  Its no fun if its just about me.   So, here’s hoping that you enjoy your visit enough to come back, and that we can engage each other time and again going forward.

Cheers!

Sean

Category: Attention Whore, Life | 5 Comments »
Tags: all about me, Attention Whore, Life, me