Blog

  • ODDS and ENDS: Goodnight Tottenham, Goals, and Memorial Day Weekend

    (Sorry, Tennessee)

    And thus the 2022/23 Tottenham Hotspur season comes to a close. Sadly, just as I thought, Spurs lost their last home match to a clearly on the rise Brentford. Though Harry Kane had one of the most amazing goals I had seen in a very long time, it was all for not… This Sunday the Premiere League comes to an end, which has Tottenham playing an away match against Leeds. Though Leeds is sitting at second to last on the table, they do have something to play for. If they get a win with a Leicester loss or tie, and Everton loss, then Leeds will avoid relegation. So, as per normal for this season, Tottenham will lose this match. Which is an awful thing to say, but on paper, Spurs should win this one, no question. But they seem to give away all the easy matches. Then the real humiliation would be Brentford beating Man City (And Man City won the League, so they have nothing to play for) thus causing Tottenham to fall to 9th. Oof! What a season. I guess I’ll wait and see what this Summer brings, with a new manager and players, and also, let’s see who sticks around. In the meantime, I got European qualifying, MLS, and the Women’s World Cup.

    I do have two small goals for today. I want to finish up two flash pieces that I have been working on. AND, I want to submit to a couple of more online journals. I’ve been trying to do this all week, and today is the day.

    Memorial Day Weekend snuck up on me. Actually, all holidays this year have snuck up on me. I feel like I am running behind on all of this stuff. But being as it is Friday morning, we won’t be leaving the City. Also, it’s Taylor Swift Weekend at the Meadowlands, so stay the hell away from the George Washington Bridge and Northern New Jersey. One day, I just might get my life organized enough to plan a getaway for the family, and make a four-day weekend out of it. Until that, I just might be drinking a beer on the roof of my building.

  • School Recitals

    My daughter had her Spring School Recital this morning. I won’t be reviewing the performances, so to speak (I will leave that to more professional writers like Frank Rich and David Sedaris,) but I would like to talk about the kids who clearly don’t want to be there.

    When I was in grade school, I was the kid that wanted to be front and center. I tried to sing the loudest, and get the most attention. I was a drama nerd from very early on. Hence why I persuaded a professional performance and theatrical career. All be it from behind a puppet, but still. Being up in front of people is a place where I am comfortable, and watching the kids in my daughter’s class, I could see that she and a few others also enjoyed having an audience.

    Yet, I do know and understand that for most people, have a group of people eagerly stare at you is not a fun way to spend any length of time. I took a moment to watch those kids today. The kids that were told they had to be up there, and sing along. I am happy to say there weren’t any trouble makers – no one went out of their way to sabotage the proceedings. These were the kids that were looking up at the ceiling, and mouthing the words. Doing anything to just get through the three minutes of singing.

    And when the song was over, and the half hearted bow was given, then the spark of joy and excitement came across their faces as they could NOW start leaving the stage to return back to their classrooms. It was like a magic switch was thrown, and they popped back to being kids.

    My kid was awesome, by the way.

  • Short Story Review: “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari (Translated, from the Italian, by Brian Robert Moore.)

    (The short story “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari appeared in the May 29th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (This story will be SPOILED, so beware!)

    Illustration by Guido Scarabottolo

    The old “losing your ball over the fence” story. It’s nice to know that boys in other countries have this issue as well. Seems like most kids grow up with this situation – the ball goes over the fence, and it is never seen again. Then the imagination takes over allowing wild stories to be created about the owner of the yard, and their dark evil soul, for only the vilest of humans would refuse to return a ball. I would say, “The Sandlot” comes to mind for most people when you talk about this situation. And it is a wonderful premise/structure/metaphor to address youth, nostalgia, coming of age, and a host of other ideas that writers have when they create stories about boys.

    Michele Mari’s story, “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz,” in essence is no different. Here the boys are in a boarding school playing soccer, and one of their goals abuts against a wall that belongs to Mr. Kurz’s backyard. When a soccer ball goes over the wall, Mr. Kurz, though polite about it, does not return the ball. Out of complete frustration, the boys hatch a plan to send one of their own over the wall to retrieve the balls.

    Though a predictable plot, Mari’s story does rise above the cliché. This narrative exists in a world of nostalgia, and I wouldn’t say the narrator is unreliable, but he does take some liberties with the truth, and in a very funny speech given by one of the boys, acknowledges this liberty. What this creates is a very charming world that these boys exist in, where their desire to have a fair and regular soccer match becomes the most important concern in their lives.

    I did have two minor issues with the story. First was the delivery of backstory, especially the rules that govern how the boys acquire new soccer balls. Most of this story, information is given directly to the reader from the narrator, but in this one situation, the boys explain the rules to each other. It felt clunky, and didn’t fit with the overall flow of the story. The second, and this is very nit-picky, is that I don’t know a single European male who speaks English that calls “soccer” soccer; it’s football. In Italy, the term is “calcio” which means “kick.” This makes me believe that this was a translation decision. Soccer is an American used term, and in this setting, it left a taste in my mouth that the story was “Americanized.”

    Now, what drew me in with this story was the well-executed climax. One of the boys does go over the wall late at night/early morning only to discover what Mr. Kurz has been doing to the balls, as well as how he spends his time in that yard. I’m trying to not spoil this, so forgive my vagueness, but when this boy receives a new ball from his father, and does what he does with it, all of the threads of this story are tied nicely together. I appreciated that Mari used that final moment to show this boy’s new understanding of the world. How the boy is essentially still the same, but his viewpoint of the world had expanded. That this boy knows he is now part of a moment in time.

  • Questioning Everything, Still (Unedited)

    There are some things that I don’t like about getting older, but I have mentioned my unfathomable dissepiment of ear hair already. But, I’m not here to speak of that.

    I, like most people, was an angsty teenager, and my distrust of anyone over the age of thirty was a pretty solid foundation in what I considered to be my character. I didn’t like the world that was around me, and I wanted desperately not to be the type of adult that reinforced the status quo. I challenged the ideas behind institution and conventions. Over my seven years of university education, I felt that continued in my questioning ways, and though I can admit that I came to no life changing conclusions, I did adopt the philosophy of looking to alternatives first.

    Then something happened in my thirties, and into my forties; I started to accept the way of things, and in some situations I would even get very angry at the way things had. I started to use phrases like, “That’s just how it is,” or “What are you gun’na do” way too often. I believed I was being a realist, seeing the world as it is, but in reality I was just giving up.

    I don’t say this lightly, but I gave up. I stopped trying. I started to look at life as something that I had failed at. That I had played, and lost, and I should just go away – Watch my tv, eat my chips, complain about the music being too loud.

    And I started to wonder; is this what it’s like getting older? Just being angry all the time? That sounds awful, but I began to ponder about it. How many people are out there are really angry that things didn’t work out the way they through they would? How many of those people are middle aged men? How many of these men are just projection their self-disappointment?

    Am I on that path right now? Can I still get off of it?

  • What I Taught My Kid

    What I Taught My Kid

    My daughter learned how to do this. I felt it was important that she understood the brilliance of “The Ministry of Silly Walks” sketch.