With The 2008 Philadelphia Phillies headed to their first World Series in fifteen years, I can only think of my father. My father died the day The Phillies won the 1993 National League pennant. This would be the Phillies’ first trip to the World Series since their loss to The Baltimore Orioles ten years earlier. He didn’t live to see the team that went “from worst to first” — his team— go on to play their hearts out against The Toronto Blue Jays. He didn’t get to see the longest game in World Series history, most total runs scored in a single World Series game, and most runs scored by a losing team in a World Series game. He didn’t get to hear about the death threats made to Phillies closer Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams. He especially didn’t get to see Joe Carter’s walk-off home run. I believe that had my father lived, that would have killed him.
My father was the typical Phillies fan. He loved them when they were winning. After a Phillies win, he would smile and pump his fist, proclaiming “All the way, baby! All the way to the World Series.” When they were losing, he would snap the TV off in the fifth inning and grumble “Bums! They’re bums!”
My father was a simple guy who led a simple life. He was born in 1926 and was raised by his father, a bigot in the truest sense of the word, who my mother called “the dumbest man ever to walk this planet”. And by his mother, a stubborn, die-hard, Nixon-loving Republican, who my mother said “was too mean to die”. Unfortunately, my mother was right. My grandmother outlived my mother by four years and my father by two. My father’s simple pleasure was watching his Phillies. He grew up following and loving the Phillies. He loved to tell the story about how he cut school to go to a Phillies game. He saw a no-hitter and, because he was supposed to be in school, couldn’t tell anyone that he was there. Well, my father also liked to make shit up. It’s a great story, but Chick Fraser pitched a no-hitter for the Phillies in 1903 and they didn’t have another until Jim Bunning’s gem on Father’s Day 1964.
My father took my brother to Phillies games at Connie Mack Stadium. My mom and I would stay home and listen to the game on the radio. When I was old enough, my father took all of us to beautiful new Veterans Stadium. My father worked for local supermarket chain Pantry Pride and would get free tickets from his suppliers. My family would usually sit in the Oscar Mayer field box — about ten feet from first base. I remember during one game against The San Francisco Giants, shortstop Chris Spier threw a ball to first about twelve feet over the head of Giants’ 6-foot 4-inch firstbaseman Willie McCovey. McCovey looked at Spier in disbelief and my father said to me “He was throwing that ball to you!”
My father cheerfully related stories about Richie Ashburn and the “Whiz Kids” (the 1950 Phillies). He remembered with contempt the Phillies’ infamous 1964 ten-game season-ending collapse. Of course, he beamed when Tug McGraw struck out Kansas City’s Willie Wilson to win their one and only World Series in 1980.
Sure, the Phils made it to post-season a few more times in the early 80s, but they ultimately suffered some lean years. My father suffered right along with them, cursing them all they way.
I can still picture my father settling down in his chair to watch a Phillies game. He had a Tastykake Chocolate Junior and the biggest fucking glass of chocolate milk you ever saw. To one side there were a few packs of Viceroy cigarettes, which he would run through by the bottom of the third inning. He’d fall asleep by the fifth and wake up in the bottom of the ninth, in time to catch my mom attempting to change the channel. “I was watching that!” he would state indignantly.
Last night, as my wife, my son and I watched the Fightin’ Phils stomp the Los Angeles Dodgers right into the ground of Dodgers Stadium, I couldn’t help but think of my father. I think my son was channeling my father when he said “I can’t believe those bastards are going to the World Series!”
Well, Dad, it’s been fifteen years coming.
The current challenge on sugarfrostedgoodness.com is “scary”.
Paul Goresh was a New Jersey college student and amateur photographer. He met John Lennon on two occasions by posing as a VCR repairman. He hung around outside of The Dakota with his camera hoping to get some pictures of Lennon. Paul was just a fan, but Lennon thought he was working for the press. Lennon didn’t want his picture taken and he felt Paul was harassing him. Paul just wanted to take candid photos of the ex-Beatle.
Paul explained to Lennon’s assistant that he didn’t work for the press and he was just a fan. Paul encountered Lennon several more times and Lennon eventually warmed up to Paul, sometimes inviting him on walks through upper Manhattan.
Around 4:15 PM on December 8, 1980, Lennon was met by Paul on the sidewalk in front of The Dakota. Paul raised his camera and began snapping pictures. He photographed Lennon signing a copy of Double Fantasy for another fan that Paul had met earlier. In approximately seven hours, that other fan, Mark David Chapman, would fire four bullets into Lennon and kill him.
The illustrationfriday.com challenge word this week is “strings”. This is the second of two illustrations I did for the subject. The first can be seen HERE.
I found two great (and unrelated) quotes for “strings”, so I decided to illustrate both.
“Most men, no matter how well or badly dressed, carry overstuffed, beat up wallets that should have been replaced years ago. Why is that every time I see a guy take out a wallet anywhere, it looks like a piece of old melted chocolate cake-with strings.”
— Jonathan Carroll, author
The illustrationfriday.com challenge word this week is “strings”.
“All gods are homemade, and it is we who pull their strings, and so, give them the power to pull ours.”
— Aldous Huxley
This is the first of two illustrations for this topic. HERE is the second.
The challenge this week on Monday Artday is “mad scientist”.
No doubt Nikola Tesla was a brilliant man. He was one of the world’s greatest electrical engineers. Aside from his work on electromagnetism and electromechanical engineering, Tesla contributed to the establishment of robotics, remote control, radar and computer science, and to the expansion of ballistics, nuclear physics, and theoretical physics. In 1943, the Supreme Court of the United States credited him as being the inventor of the radio. (Take that, Marconi!) And he spoke eight languages. But…
Tesla suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder, and had many unusual quirks and phobias. He did things in threes. He was adamant about staying in a hotel room with a number divisible by three. Tesla was physically revolted by jewelry, notably pearl earrings. He was fastidious about cleanliness and hygiene, and was by all accounts germophobic. He greatly disliked touching human hair other than his own. He disliked touching round objects.
He was obsessed with pigeons, ordering special seeds for the pigeons he fed in Central Park and even bringing some into his hotel room with him. Tesla was an animal-lover, often reflecting contentedly about a childhood cat.
Tesla was a loner and was soft-spoken. However, he displayed the occasional cruel streak. He openly expressed his disgust for overweight people, once firing a secretary because of her weight. He was quick to criticize others’ clothing as well, demanding a subordinate to go home and change her dress on several occasions.
Tesla died of heart failure alone in room 3327 of the New Yorker Hotel, some time between the evening of January 5 and the morning of January 8, 1943, at the age of 86. Despite having sold his AC electricity patents, Tesla was destitute and died with significant debts.
Mad scientist?
How about “Bat-shit whack-o”?
The illustrationfriday.com challenge word this week is “sugary”.
This could be a companion piece to my illustration for “yummy”.
Here’s my original Tale of Swirly von Swirly deCocoa McDuff
Swirly von Swirly deCocoa McDuff
Made candy and gumdrops and sugary stuff
He mixed up ten pounds of peppermint sweets
And coconut tangerine crispy rice treats
Tray after tray of peanut fudge drops,
Hazelnut toffee and red lollipops.
Swirly von Swirly, he mixed and he stirred
Batch upon batch of sweet lemony curd,
Butterscotch cherry cashew rum brittle
Caramel chewies with cream in the middle
Those copper pots glistened,
Those pots of McDuff
Overflowing with chocolate
And marshmallow fluff
That Swirly von Swirly, he stirred and he mixed
Nonpareil candies all dotted with Trix!
He tried and he tested and experimentated
Shaken-up fizzy sticks (noncarbonated)
Clusters of almonds in a big creamy puff
All made by the Master —
deCocoa McDuff.
The Monday Artday challenge this week is “Schoolhouse Rock”.
From its 1973 debut, wedged between episodes of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?, Schoolhouse Rock taught grammar, math and history to youngsters nationwide. Schoolhouse Rock’s quirky animation, psychedelic images and catchy tunes made learning easy and the lesson stuck with kids. Even into high school, kids were humming the Preamble to the Constitution to themselves during history tests.
Singer/songwriters Paul and Storm obviously grew up with Schoolhouse Rock.
Feeling that the original set of Grammar Rock songs was short one important part of speech, they wrote “Epithets”.
Algernon was hanging pictures over his bed
The hammer missed the nail, and hit his finger instead
The swelling started growin’
And the blood began a-flowin’
While Algernon let go with some
Epithets!
Bobby was the pitcher on his Little League team
His father would project on him his own broken dreams
He’d guzzle down the booze
And then when Bobby’s team was losin’
Daddy started to abuse ’em with
Epithets!
An epithet’s a word or phrase that people can use
When ordinary words and phrases simply won’t do
To express frustration, pain, impatience, anger or scorn
To the ****heads and the ***holes in your way
The Mayor loved the women and he loved cocaine
He got himself a hooker to keep him entertained
But after he discovered
She was working undercover
Then Hizzoner started utterin’
Epithets!
Epithets
Show emotion
Impatience
Frustration
Pain and anger
Amen
Press the “play >” button below to hear “Epithets”, from Paul and Storm’s album Opening Band.
HEY! LOOK! I even got a mention on Paul and Storm’s website! Thanks Paul and Storm.
The challenge this week on illustrationfriday.com is “packed”.
Moving day at Castle Frankenstein.
The challenge on Monday Artday this week is “prehistoric humans”.
The first automotive trade show, circa 10,000,000 years BC.
The sugarfrostedgoodness.com current challenge is “yummy”.
For this uncharacteristically cheerful illustration, I took my inspiration from Dr. Seuss.
Here’s my original story of “Mister McBaker O’Frosting Moran”
Mister McBaker O’Frosting Moran
Baked one thousand cakes and used only one pan
He concocted pink cupcakes
And yellow and blue
But he used just one pan
Not seven or two
Giant red cream cakes with sprinkles on top
A big plate of chocolatey brownies and glop
Crunch cookies and fudgy yum yummies with fudge
Six batches of rum raisin spice cinnamon sludge
A great big enormous sweet stick-ity bun
And the pans that he used only numbered to one
He mixed in the eggs and the butter and flour
And the baking was done in just under an hour
Petit fours were presented by O’Frosting Moran
And ten dozen tea cakes — all using one pan
Cakes for a birthday
Cakes for a bris
Cakes for a Christening
with a cinnamon twist
How, you may ask, could he just use one pan?
’cause there’s magic in the kitchen
Of McBaker Moran
