Kids these days

On Xitter, one discussion involved how Sandy Koufax would pitch in 2025, based on his Cy Young and NL MVP season of 1963.  One man opined that Koufax had dominated all right, but not against the kind of hitters who dominate today.  "Janitors," he called the old-timers.

Another poster weighed in with a list of so-called janitors, shown below.

To which list I thought, um...  the names are those of players who had been, or were rising stars, along with those whose prime was in 1963.  But I held my tongue.  

Probably the best action in that venue was no action.  But here, where Asian skimmers and scrapers are the most frequent visitors, I can speak more freely.  The poster knew the players, but plainly did not check their statistics.  No complaint with Mays, Aaron, Clemente and McCovey, but Ernie Banks batted .227, Frank Robinson had a down year (.259/.379/.442), and Brock, Schofield, Mazeroski, and 19-year-old rookie Staub all finished below the league average of .245/.306/.364, while 42-year-old Musial, in his final season, posted a .255 average.  Orlando Cepeda, Bill White, and Johnny Callison would have fit better on the list. And Pete Rose?  Rookie of the Year, but a couple of years away from perennial .300-hitter status.

Begging the question

After publishing an obituary for Dr. Peter Fenwick, who had extensively studied near-death experiences, the New York Times collected readers' recollections.  

I read the eight short stories, and for the first time, I wondered, "These are the people who came back.  How many others got to that point and didn't return to life on Earth?  

If I reach that place with the bright light and the feeling of peace, and I see loved ones that I haven't seen since they died, why not stay?  If my favorite cat is there to greet me, I'll probably say "OK, I'm home now."

Way back, waaay back...

Not absolutely sure of the above assertion, but the two things I remembered about the first MLB game I attended were that Norm Cash homered and a 36-year-old rookie named Hank Izquierdo was catching for the visiting Twins.  It was his only season with them, and with the help of Baseball Reference, I found that he played only 3 games in Tiger Stadium, with two of them the nightcaps of doubleheaders.  The single game was on Thursday, August 24, and Norm Cash did homer that day.  

Yeah, I did the math, I know how long ago that was...  I can also sing commercial jingles from that era as though I saw them yesterday.  (Since I've watched a number of them on YouTube, it's entirely possible that I did.)  And I've used Izquierdo sometime during the past year in Immaculate Grid.

In Another Time

It occurs to me that if I really wanted to do a blog now, I know what I'd do it about.   All I have to do is open up an old magazine or newspaper, read about someone I've never heard of, and let Google take its course.  

It's a natural:  I listen to pop-culture history podcasts like You Must Remember This and Cocaine and Rhinestones.  This afternoon, I loaded a bound volume of Cosmopolitan from the second half of 1922 and found some full-page portraits of women whose names were unknown to me.  I looked up one of them, Helen Lee Worthing, and learned that she'd been a pariah due to her marriage to a Black doctor.  

Of course, everything prior to 1926 is public domain, so there'd be no cost except for my time and my enthusiasm.  But for every good reason, there's one on the other side of the ledger.  I like the idea, but I'm not on fire for it.  Lacking the want-to is the big negative.  I already have a hobby right now, and loving on cats, learning about writing for cats, and doing my own writing for cats is plenty interesting enough.  (Maybe in retirement, though.)  

Anyway, other people have already beaten me to the idea.  This blog, for instance.

Red's Lasting Lesson

 

For some reason, the IFRAME link doesn't work with the link that contains the actual time the relevant portion begins, so it begins here at the 68-second mark.

In my days working in the business of entertainment, it helped to remember this bit from the Red Skelton shows when I was a kid.  A bit of wisdom at a young age in someone who didn't demonstrate much of it back then.  

He began his monologue with "I feel good tonight."  At age 12, I took it at face value.  Later in life, when preparing for my presentations, I understood that nobody feels that good all the time, and that what he said was probably partly for the audience and partly as a reminder to him.  

Years later, when leading conference calls, I'd answer the inevitable "How are you?" with "I'm having a good day."  Thanks, Red.

When I'm 64 no more

 And as the saying goes, I'll live to be 100, or die trying.

Who Needs Netflix?

Among today's entertainment, courtesy of YouTube Premium and YouTube Music:

Radio from the Hoover Administration; programming from 1930.  (1) Ninety-one years ago, (2) before my mother was born

The monologue from a 1966 Bob Hope special.  Didn't need to look up any references to get the jokes.  

The first 3 innings of Game 1 of the 1972 ALCS, the Detroit radio broadcast with Ernie Harwell, with a quick Marc Avery voiceover before the recorder cut off the commercial.  Of course I know Marc Avery's voice when I hear it.  I listened to him afternoons on WJR only... 49 years ago.

Some new recordings of "old" songs by Kate NV.  Plus Clairo, The Academic, and Kurt Vile.  (Keeping YouTube on its toes.  Don't pigeonhole me!)   

Because it's there

"Who's on first..."

Nothing fancy in those days.  Mock up a front page and paste it onto that day's local paper.  I'd figure the show was produced live in New York City, but that headline on the left side references the White Sox adding two new players, Phil Cavaretta and George Kell.  In 1954, the Yankees were chasing the Indians, not the White Sox.

 

Saturday Evening Post

 

Doesn't make it right

Magazine publisher writes opinion piece to put employees on notice.  Twitter users put into words how I felt while reading it.

Representative sample: