The Madness beckons. The "Big Dance" starts on Thursday (play-ins on Tuesday & Wednesday); the valiant Wolverines are the № 4 seed in the Midwest Regional Bracket & face the № 10 seed, the epithetless Bobcats of Ohio University, on Friday. Let us hope the valiant Wolverines are better prepared for the N.C.A.A. Tournament than they were for the Big Ten Tournament. The Madness! The Madness!
Saturday, 10 March
(№ 7) Ohio State 77-55 Michigan (№ 10)
24-9, Big Ten 14-6
Well, that was embarrassing, more a repeat of January's 64-49 drubbing at the hands of those same hated Buckeyes rather than February's 56-51 victory over that same ancient foe. The worst part was the insistent futility of Trey Burke's play; the young man was plainly out of his depth, throwing up brick after brick in an attempt to win the game by himself, rather than passing to teammates with better shooting positions. The fault lies with Coach John Beilein, for leaving Burke on the court to flail; there is a strong argument to make that when a player is struggling he must be allowed to play through the doldrums back to success, but I am of the opinion that there comes a point in a game when a player must be sat down & told that he will indeed have a chance at redemption, but on another day. Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk.
The most annoying part of watching any Michigan game is that at some point my father will drift into the room (or in the case of tournament games he's more likely to emerge from his hobby room in the basement to watch the game with me on the first floor) & immediately launch into a baseless tirade against Michigan's head coach, John Beilein. At least I think the tirades are directed against Beilein ("bee-line"); my father is always ranting against the inadequacies of someone named "Baerlein," whom he regards as uniquely unsuited to the rigors of coaching in the Big Ten. (Side note: O, how I loathe the "B1G" logo!) He provides no reasons for why he believes "Baerlein" to be so uniquely incapable, but this does nothing to shake my father's confidence in the assertion. The only way to shut him up is to initiate a harsh attack on Purdue's, his alma mater, recent lack of success, including the ill-starred Boilermakers' early (at least earlier than Michigan) exit from the Big Ten tourney. He hates Michigan State & Ohio State more than he hates Michigan, but he criticizes Michigan's coaches most fiercely of all. What a jerk!
Friday, 9 March
(№ 10) Michigan 73-69 Minnesota (O.T.)
24-8, Big Ten 14-5
It was worrying that it took overtime time for the valiant Wolverines to prevail over the luckless Golden Gophers. This just wasn't the Maize & Blue's weekend; we seemed never to play our best, never to find a comfort zone.
Go Blue!
Project MERCATOR
Ska Army rang me on Friday & asked if I had plans for the evening, which I did not. He invited me to join him & another fellow at Art Walk, a monthly cultural fête in downtown Flinttown. I told him I'd be happy to join him, but that dinner was presently being prepared & I was ravenous—which I was, having skipped lunch—; so, I would ring him after I finished dinner. It turns out that my mother was preparing her homemade macaroni & cheese, a tasty treat perfect for a Lenten Friday, but a meal with a lengthy, multi-step preparation. Dinner was not served for thirty-five minutes after I rang off from Ska Army & I was not able to ring him back 'til seventy minutes after his original call. I motored downtown, parked along Saginaw Street, & soon joined Ska Army & his pal Seth, whom I've met a few times. We trekked to the Buckham Alley Gallery, an oven just as it's been during every other Art Walk I've attended. We poked fun at the art; said hello to Mr. & Mrs. Dick, the married couple from The Loose Ties; & were predictably disappointed to learn what a serigraph is. We next trekked to the Greater Flint Arts Council, where as usual I would define more of the works displayed as "crafts" rather than "art." Mr. & Mrs. Dick weren't following us, they were just following the same path several minutes behind us; so, we again enjoyed the pleasure of their company. Not long after, the evening was called on account of everything to see having been seen (they'd visited the several other Art Walk venues before our rendezvous) & the gloriously bone-chilling cold. I bid my fellows a good night I trekked back to Lumi the Snow Queen, enjoying the last truly cold night for many months to come.
I had no desire to go out when Ska Army called me, especially after the distasteful incident of ferrying him home from his birthday party, but wanting to stay in & play hermit is not sufficient reason to decline a social invitation under the protocols of Project MERCATOR. I'm lucky to have any friends at all; so, I should not neglect them when they wish to spend time with me. (Imagine if MERCATOR had been in effect in high school, when I declined nine out of ten invitations, to my grave social detriment.) My biggest objection was the spontaneity of the outing. Ska Army called at 6:30 & was already downtown. Had I been waiting by the 'phone for an invitation, I might have been able to join him in a timely fashion—as it was, the time spent at Art Walk was too short, hardly worth my while—, but given the necessary delay for dinner the plan was hardly actionable. Had we previously discussed going to Art Walk, even as late as earlier that very day, the necessary modifications to schedule could have been made for me to join Ska Army & Seth earlier. In the words of John "Hannibal" Smith (portrayed by the late handsome actor George Peppard), "I love it when a plan comes together." I like plans, I like preparation; I like for potential difficulties to have been considered & solutions previously devised. The evening would have been a far greater success with greater forewarning; forewarned, as they say, is forearmed.
The Queue
A bit of wisdom from the great Steve Martin, the veracity of which my own experiences in public speaking/performance confirm entirely, not that such a seasoned pro. needs my amateurish verification. Ahem.
The consistent work enhanced my act. I learned a lesson: It was easy to be great. Every entertainer has a night when everything is clicking. These nights are accidental and statistical: Like lucky cards in poker, you can count on them occurring over time. What was hard was to be good, consistently good, night after night, no matter what the abominable circumstances. (Born Standing Up, p. 139)
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Don't Worry Desmond Dekker" from Medium Rare (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: One of the many things I love about The Bosstones is their propensity to write nostalgic songs, songs in which a small happenstance in the present casts back the mind upon the foreign country that it the past. This suits my innately wistful disposition to a T.
"And I (whoa oh)
I can hear your laughter, (whoa oh)
It stays with me after (whoa oh)
All this time,
And I (whoa oh)
I still got your records, (whoa oh)
Clash and The Selecter, (whoa oh)
And don't worry, Desmond Dekker's doin' fine."
Also, a bit of housekeeping: April approaches swiftly, & with it SKApril '12, the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.'s second month-long celebration of the ska. I'd be grateful for nominations of bands or songs for SKApril. I thank you.
Samstag, 10 März
Fountains of Wayne, "Red Dragon Tattoo" from Utopia Parkway (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary:
"Red dragon tattoo is just about on me,
I got it for you, so now do you want me?
With nothing to prove, will you by my honey?
Oh yeah, in you I confide,
Red dragon tattoo,
I'm fit to be dyed, am I fit to have you?"
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