"A Separation": A-. Nader and Simin have been married for fourteen years, but their marriage is coming to an end. In the opening scene, Simin tells a judge that she wants to leave Iran, and has only forty days before her exit visa expires. Nader replies that he can't leave because he has the responsibility of caring for his aged father, Omar, who is suffering from Alzheimers. (For purposes of this post I'm calling Nader's father "Omar," though he is not given a name in the credits.) Simin would leave the country anyway, were it not for the couple's eleven year old daughter, Termeh. The family lives in the Omar's apartment. The judge won't grant the divorce, but Simin moves out to live with her mother in another part of the city. Nader hires Razieh to look after his father during the day while Nader goes to his bank job and Termeh attends school. Nader explains to Razieh that her main duties are to give Omar his meds and, most importantly, to keep him from harming himself. Razieh brings her little girl Somayeh with her to play in the apartment while Razieh performs her caregiving and housekeeping tasks.
We get a grueling up-close look at what it's like to care for Omar, who is incapable of performing even the simplest tasks. The job is too much for Razieh, but her husband can't take over because his creditors have had him jailed for failing to pay his debts. In fact, for religious reasons Razieh has not even told her husband that she has taken on this job. One day, when Nader returns home early and finds Omar near death and no sign of Razieh, he desperately tries to resuscitate his father. While all this is going on, Razieh returns and Nader erupts. To add fuel to the fire, he accuses Razieh of theft. Razieh admits she left Omar home alone for a very brief time to attend to a personal matter, but vehemently denies stealing Nader's stash of hidden cash. Nader forcibly ejects Razieh from the apartment.
There are a lot of things going on in this movie: the pending divorce, the care of and concern for Omar, the clash between Nader and Razieh, and the plight of Termeh, who is trying to cope with all that is going on before her young eyes. When Razieh's husband gets involved, another layer of confrontation evolves, much of it playing out in another courtroom. Emotions run high, to say the least.
Nader and Razieh each have their secrets, and they also have their faults. Neither is a bad person, as evidenced by their efforts to be good parents to their respective daughters, yet sometimes bad things happen to good people. The movie is a study of how a single decision, viz., the decision of Simin to move out of her family's apartment, can start a domino effect of (probably) unforeseen events. Some of the scenes in the movie, particularly that of an early conversation at the dining room table between Simin and Termeh's tutor, don't seem particularly important when shown, yet have eventual major inpact in the evolution of the story. The same can be said about the scene in which Nader kicks Razieh out of the apartment, and a scene when Omar briefly leaves his apartment to go to a newsstand across the street. If you pay attention to detail, you will be rewarded with a higher level of appreciation of this gripping tale.
The acting is superb, with a special tip of the hat to Sareh Bayat who plays Razieh. And Kimia Hosseini, who plays little Somayeh, is just about the cutest little kid I've ever seen on the screen. "A Separation" has been nominated for two Oscars, Best Foreign Language Film and Best Original Screenplay. It will take an excellent movie to defeat "A Separation" in either category.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Winter Under Where
Admit it, you thought I confused "where" and "wear" in the subject line above. Actually, it's a play on the made up Latin phrase "hiems sub ubi," which translates into the three English words "winter," "under" and "where." My Latin IV teacher at Bishop Ryan High School, Father John O'Leary, used to tell us tongue-in-cheek that those words formed the phrase "winter underwear." His other so-called joke was to ask, "Habesne sed?" The translation of "habesne" is "Do you have?" "Sed" is the Latin conjunction for "but." Put it together and it translates into "Do you have a butt?" Yep, even though Latin is accused of being a dead language, there were times when it was fun to learn. Father O had us rolling in the aisles.
Most adults in the US probably did not study Latin. The main reason I did was because my first high school, Assumption High, only offered Latin or Spanish to the boys, and I was afraid of the bullwhip-wielding Spanish teacher, Father Colonese. Therefore, I took Latin by default. Regardless of whether or not you have studied Latin, there are three English abbreviations, each having Latin roots, which I strongly advise you to learn. They are: "e.g."; "i.e."; and "viz." The first two I have seen erroneously exchanged for one another by people who should know better, and the third one is simply underused.
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The abbreviation "e.g."stands for the Latin term "exempla gratia," which means "by the grace of an example." You use that abbreviation to introduce examples of what you wrote before.
Example: I have traveled to several southern states, e.g., Louisiana, Mississippi and Florida.
It is often useful to separate your examples from the rest of the sentence with parentheses.
Example: There are a few NFL teams (e.g., the Patriots, the Packers and the Rams) which are unlikely to draft a quarterback in the first round.
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Don't use "e.g." when you should be using "i.e." The abbreviation "i.e." stands for the Latin term "id est," which means "that is." You do not use "i.e." if you are about to show examples. Instead, you would employ the abbreviation "e.g." Conversely, "i.e." is usually used to show a specific identification of what you wrote before, similar to an appositive.
Example: The meteorologists warned their viewers of the hazardous road condition which is the most difficult for a driver to see, i.e. black ice.
Example: Momma Romano waited until she retired from the restaurant business before she revealed her secret ingredient, guanciale, i.e., cured pork jowl.
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The third abbreviation which I commend for your consideration is "viz. " The full Latin word would be "videlicet," but in shorthand English it's translated as "namely." As I wrote above, the use of "viz" is minimal, perhaps due to the fact that the difference between "viz." and "i.e." is subtle. Both abbreviations are used to introduce something specific (rather than a set of examples) to an antecedent. A good writer will use variety, both in choice of words and in sentence structure. Instead of using "i.e." repeatedly, try substituting "viz." occasionally. Maybe you can fool people into thinking you're a Latin scholar.
Example: Lennon and McCartney were inspired to keep changing the style of their music compositions by the competition they faced from their chief contemporary rivals, viz., Jagger and Richards.
Example: NASA is mostly interested in exploring the two planets which are closest to the earth, viz., Venus and Mars, although missions to more distant planets are also part of the space program.
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Finally, and since we're on the topic of Latin-rooted abbreviations, I would like to throw in a short warning about the term "et cetera," which is abbreviated "etc." Be careful not to pronounce that term "EK setera." Phonetically, it's "ET setera." The Latin word "et" means "and"; the Latin word "cetera" means "other" or "other things." Thus, "et cetera" is translated to say "and other things."
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I was going to finish this post with another Latin joke, but I'm afraid I've used up the only two I know in the first paragraph. So, I simply bid you "Vale!"
Most adults in the US probably did not study Latin. The main reason I did was because my first high school, Assumption High, only offered Latin or Spanish to the boys, and I was afraid of the bullwhip-wielding Spanish teacher, Father Colonese. Therefore, I took Latin by default. Regardless of whether or not you have studied Latin, there are three English abbreviations, each having Latin roots, which I strongly advise you to learn. They are: "e.g."; "i.e."; and "viz." The first two I have seen erroneously exchanged for one another by people who should know better, and the third one is simply underused.
-----------------
The abbreviation "e.g."stands for the Latin term "exempla gratia," which means "by the grace of an example." You use that abbreviation to introduce examples of what you wrote before.
Example: I have traveled to several southern states, e.g., Louisiana, Mississippi and Florida.
It is often useful to separate your examples from the rest of the sentence with parentheses.
Example: There are a few NFL teams (e.g., the Patriots, the Packers and the Rams) which are unlikely to draft a quarterback in the first round.
---------------
Don't use "e.g." when you should be using "i.e." The abbreviation "i.e." stands for the Latin term "id est," which means "that is." You do not use "i.e." if you are about to show examples. Instead, you would employ the abbreviation "e.g." Conversely, "i.e." is usually used to show a specific identification of what you wrote before, similar to an appositive.
Example: The meteorologists warned their viewers of the hazardous road condition which is the most difficult for a driver to see, i.e. black ice.
Example: Momma Romano waited until she retired from the restaurant business before she revealed her secret ingredient, guanciale, i.e., cured pork jowl.
--------------
The third abbreviation which I commend for your consideration is "viz. " The full Latin word would be "videlicet," but in shorthand English it's translated as "namely." As I wrote above, the use of "viz" is minimal, perhaps due to the fact that the difference between "viz." and "i.e." is subtle. Both abbreviations are used to introduce something specific (rather than a set of examples) to an antecedent. A good writer will use variety, both in choice of words and in sentence structure. Instead of using "i.e." repeatedly, try substituting "viz." occasionally. Maybe you can fool people into thinking you're a Latin scholar.
Example: Lennon and McCartney were inspired to keep changing the style of their music compositions by the competition they faced from their chief contemporary rivals, viz., Jagger and Richards.
Example: NASA is mostly interested in exploring the two planets which are closest to the earth, viz., Venus and Mars, although missions to more distant planets are also part of the space program.
------------------
Finally, and since we're on the topic of Latin-rooted abbreviations, I would like to throw in a short warning about the term "et cetera," which is abbreviated "etc." Be careful not to pronounce that term "EK setera." Phonetically, it's "ET setera." The Latin word "et" means "and"; the Latin word "cetera" means "other" or "other things." Thus, "et cetera" is translated to say "and other things."
-----------------
I was going to finish this post with another Latin joke, but I'm afraid I've used up the only two I know in the first paragraph. So, I simply bid you "Vale!"
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Movie Review: "Carnage"
"Carnage": A- Penelope (Jodie Foster) is the mother of Ethan Longstreet, an eleven year old boy who was struck by chum Zachary Cowan with a stick during a playground argument. She and her husband Michael (John C. Reilly) ask Zachary's parents, Nancy (Kate Winslet) and Alan (Christoph Waltz), to come to their New York City apartment to have an adult conversation about the scuffle. After some minor disagreement over the choice of words (Was Zachary "armed" with the stick or "in possession of" the stick?) on a statement which Penelope types up, it appears that things are settled and the Cowans are headed for the door. They have not, at this point, even removed their coats. But tightly wound Penelope can't resist making a comment which the Cowans won't let pass, and before you know it the Cowans have settled in for a longer duration. Although Alan is a litigation attorney, he does not seem eager to get into a verbal jousting match with Penelope; he lets Nancy, an investment broker, do most of the talking in defense of Zachary. Meanwhile, Michael, who is a laid back hardware parts salesman, tries to keep things light with his smile and his sense of humor.
Ethan has suffered some dental damage which is covered by the Longstreet's insurance. But Penelope feels that the conversation should be about more than that, and if the Cowans aren't attuned to that reality, Penelope is bent on making sure they see her point of view before they leave. The discussion turns to deeper yet related themes such as child rearing, discipline and punishment, apologies, bullying and even gangs. In spite of the divergent points of view, the Longstreets are nevertheless aware of their roles as hosts, even offering Penelope's prized cobbler to the Cowans while the four of them continue their discussion. All too frequently, Alan answers his cell phone and carries on conversations with his pharmacuetical company client regarding a prescription drug which may be defective. It's obvious he has his mind on more pressing matters than two eleven year olds' mishaps in a park, even if one of those kids happens to be his son. These interruptions are annoying to the other three, but then Michael's elderly mother starts calling too. As it turns out, she has been taking the same questionable medicine that Alan's client has been manufacturing. One of the funniest bits in the movie occurs when Michael puts Alan on the phone. Michael's mother thinks Alan is a doctor!
The script for "Carnage" is brilliantly written. At first it is the Longstreets against the Cowans in a civilized manner. Your instinct tells you that the serene atmosphere won't last forever. Then, before you know it, the two men take sides against the women, one of the characters gets violently sick, and Alan's cell phone stops ringing for a surprising reason. When Michael decides to break out his eighteen year old single malt scotch and Cuban cigars, that is a game changer.
It is often said that great athletes have the ability to bring out the best in their teammates. If one were to test that theory as it applies to acting, "Carnage" would be offered as Exhibit A. All four leads are on top of their game. Austrian Christoph Waltz, who was brilliant in 2009's "Inglorious Basterds," is probably the least well known of the four to American audiences, but he is an amazing actor, having the ability to send out mixed signals with the utterance of a sentence or two coupled with subtle facial expressions. If you have ever said, "I'd like to be a fly on the wall" to eavesdrop on a lively private argument, you won't want to miss this movie.
Ethan has suffered some dental damage which is covered by the Longstreet's insurance. But Penelope feels that the conversation should be about more than that, and if the Cowans aren't attuned to that reality, Penelope is bent on making sure they see her point of view before they leave. The discussion turns to deeper yet related themes such as child rearing, discipline and punishment, apologies, bullying and even gangs. In spite of the divergent points of view, the Longstreets are nevertheless aware of their roles as hosts, even offering Penelope's prized cobbler to the Cowans while the four of them continue their discussion. All too frequently, Alan answers his cell phone and carries on conversations with his pharmacuetical company client regarding a prescription drug which may be defective. It's obvious he has his mind on more pressing matters than two eleven year olds' mishaps in a park, even if one of those kids happens to be his son. These interruptions are annoying to the other three, but then Michael's elderly mother starts calling too. As it turns out, she has been taking the same questionable medicine that Alan's client has been manufacturing. One of the funniest bits in the movie occurs when Michael puts Alan on the phone. Michael's mother thinks Alan is a doctor!
The script for "Carnage" is brilliantly written. At first it is the Longstreets against the Cowans in a civilized manner. Your instinct tells you that the serene atmosphere won't last forever. Then, before you know it, the two men take sides against the women, one of the characters gets violently sick, and Alan's cell phone stops ringing for a surprising reason. When Michael decides to break out his eighteen year old single malt scotch and Cuban cigars, that is a game changer.
It is often said that great athletes have the ability to bring out the best in their teammates. If one were to test that theory as it applies to acting, "Carnage" would be offered as Exhibit A. All four leads are on top of their game. Austrian Christoph Waltz, who was brilliant in 2009's "Inglorious Basterds," is probably the least well known of the four to American audiences, but he is an amazing actor, having the ability to send out mixed signals with the utterance of a sentence or two coupled with subtle facial expressions. If you have ever said, "I'd like to be a fly on the wall" to eavesdrop on a lively private argument, you won't want to miss this movie.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Album Review: "Emotional Traffic" - Tim McGraw
"Emotional Traffic": B+. In 2010 Mary and I journeyed to Milwaukee with our friends, Bob and Sue Cipolle, to attend a couple of baseball games featuring the Twins and the Brewers. We also purchased tickets to see a Summerfest concert featuring Tim McGraw and Lady Antebellum. In order to familiarize myself with McGraw's body of work before the concert, I listened to several of his albums and made a mix of my favorite nineteen McGraw songs, which were all that would fit on a burned CD, to enjoy en route from the Twin Cities. Before then I had admired his talent, but that weekend I actually became what could fairly be labeled a fan.
Two weeks ago, McGraw released his first album, "Emotional Traffic," since the four of us went on that Sudsville trip. "Emotional Traffic" is his eleventh studio album of original material. I will admit up front that I have not perfected a grading system to use for music like I have for movies. (See my January 12, 2012 post, "Prelude To 2011 Movie Ratings Recap.") Yes, I know that it is presumptuous of me to think that I've created a perfected system for anything, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and on this blog, yours truly is the beholder. The way I see it, a movie can't be saved, or conversely deemed to be excellent, based on a few scenes, whereas if an album has a few superb ditties sprinkled in among the rest of the set list, it can at least be labeled above average if not higher. Another way to put it is this: A movie must be rated based on its entirety, whereas an album has the capacity to enable a few terrific songs to weigh more than an equal number of clunkers. As for rating "Emotional Traffic," the challenge was a little easier than normal, as my question was this: How many of its twelve songs were good enough to be included on that 2010 mix I made if I could expand the capacity beyond nineteen songs? My answer is two for sure, maybe as many as four.
"Emotional Traffic" has been marketed with McGraw proclaiming, "This is my best ever album," but my reaction after my initial listening to the first five tracks was, "Meh." (I have always wanted to use the word "meh" in a sentence ever since discovering it several months ago. What you just read was my big opportunity!) Then I played Track # 6, "Better Than I Used To Be," and recalled the new Budweiser Light tag line, "Here we go." That song is vintage baritone McGraw, admitting past indiscretions but promising to get better. He tells the listener, "I ain't as good as I'm gonna get, but I'm better than I used to be." For some reason it called to mind Toby Keith's 2005 hit, "As Good As I Once Was," when he sang, "I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was."
The other song on "Emotional Traffic" that I'd rate top notch is Track # 11, his duet with Ne-Yo titled "Only Human," which is about having lofty aspirations that sometimes must be trimmed back to something more realistic. To be honest, I did not know Ne-Yo from J Lo, other than I once heard his singing style referred to as "whine-hop" (as opposed to hip-hop, I guess), but he sings great on this duet and I'm going to check out some of his other, solo work. The album title "Emotional Traffic" comes from one of the early lines of this song.
The four songs between "Better Than I Used To Be" and "Only Human" are all worthy too, including a song about unexpected miracles (Track # 7, "Touchdown Jesus"), a story about a singer who had to leave her hometown to be appreciated as a star (Track # 8, "The One That Got Away"), and two upbeat story songs about meeting someone new in a bar toward the end of the evening ("Felt Good On My Lips" and "Hey Now," Tracks # 9 and 10, respectively). The set closes with "Die By My Own Hand," a deep reflective song reminiscent of Journey's "Faithfully" and Kenny Roger's "She Believes In Me." It's not easy for a woman to be in love with a music man.
Does "Emotional Traffic" live up to Tim McGraw's proclamation as his best work? I am going to say "no." I still think his 1995 album "All I Want" remains his best. However, as you have seen from my grade of B+, I do highly recommend "Emotional Traffic." But start with Track # 6.
Two weeks ago, McGraw released his first album, "Emotional Traffic," since the four of us went on that Sudsville trip. "Emotional Traffic" is his eleventh studio album of original material. I will admit up front that I have not perfected a grading system to use for music like I have for movies. (See my January 12, 2012 post, "Prelude To 2011 Movie Ratings Recap.") Yes, I know that it is presumptuous of me to think that I've created a perfected system for anything, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and on this blog, yours truly is the beholder. The way I see it, a movie can't be saved, or conversely deemed to be excellent, based on a few scenes, whereas if an album has a few superb ditties sprinkled in among the rest of the set list, it can at least be labeled above average if not higher. Another way to put it is this: A movie must be rated based on its entirety, whereas an album has the capacity to enable a few terrific songs to weigh more than an equal number of clunkers. As for rating "Emotional Traffic," the challenge was a little easier than normal, as my question was this: How many of its twelve songs were good enough to be included on that 2010 mix I made if I could expand the capacity beyond nineteen songs? My answer is two for sure, maybe as many as four.
"Emotional Traffic" has been marketed with McGraw proclaiming, "This is my best ever album," but my reaction after my initial listening to the first five tracks was, "Meh." (I have always wanted to use the word "meh" in a sentence ever since discovering it several months ago. What you just read was my big opportunity!) Then I played Track # 6, "Better Than I Used To Be," and recalled the new Budweiser Light tag line, "Here we go." That song is vintage baritone McGraw, admitting past indiscretions but promising to get better. He tells the listener, "I ain't as good as I'm gonna get, but I'm better than I used to be." For some reason it called to mind Toby Keith's 2005 hit, "As Good As I Once Was," when he sang, "I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was."
The other song on "Emotional Traffic" that I'd rate top notch is Track # 11, his duet with Ne-Yo titled "Only Human," which is about having lofty aspirations that sometimes must be trimmed back to something more realistic. To be honest, I did not know Ne-Yo from J Lo, other than I once heard his singing style referred to as "whine-hop" (as opposed to hip-hop, I guess), but he sings great on this duet and I'm going to check out some of his other, solo work. The album title "Emotional Traffic" comes from one of the early lines of this song.
The four songs between "Better Than I Used To Be" and "Only Human" are all worthy too, including a song about unexpected miracles (Track # 7, "Touchdown Jesus"), a story about a singer who had to leave her hometown to be appreciated as a star (Track # 8, "The One That Got Away"), and two upbeat story songs about meeting someone new in a bar toward the end of the evening ("Felt Good On My Lips" and "Hey Now," Tracks # 9 and 10, respectively). The set closes with "Die By My Own Hand," a deep reflective song reminiscent of Journey's "Faithfully" and Kenny Roger's "She Believes In Me." It's not easy for a woman to be in love with a music man.
Does "Emotional Traffic" live up to Tim McGraw's proclamation as his best work? I am going to say "no." I still think his 1995 album "All I Want" remains his best. However, as you have seen from my grade of B+, I do highly recommend "Emotional Traffic." But start with Track # 6.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Within The Rules, But Without Class
Deontay Greenberry is a six foot three inch senior at Washington Union High School in Fresno, California, who also happened to be the eighth highest ranked wide receiver in the country. He had full ride scholarship offers from over a dozen big name college football programs. Last May he gave a verbal commitment to Notre Dame, becoming the second player to do so. The NCAA mandates that high schoolers may not sign letters of intent ("LOIs") until sometime in February of their senior year. For 2012, that date was February 1, commonly referred to as National LOI Day. When a player signs a LOI, he becomes off limits to all other suitors. Because the NCAA restricts its universities in the number of football scholarships they can grant (25 in any one year, and a maximum of 85 overall in each school's program), and because there are approximately twenty-four different positions, including kickers, on each team, it's obvious that a team rarely is able to "load up" on one position. For example, a team would not usually have more than two or three centers on its team, nor would it have more than, say, four or five defensive ends. The coaches have to make sure that they have enough scholarships to fill each of those twenty-six positions with a first string, a second string, and several deeper reserves at key positions.
Once a player commits to a team, two things directly result immediately. First, the coaches of that team may discontinue recruiting additional players at that same position, taking into account the NCAA scholarship limitations cited above. Secondly, even if the coaches decide to recruit additional players at that same position, some high school players who had been considering that school may opt to pick a different university for the simple reason that they do not want to take the risk of not being able to beat out that first committed player for playing time. This is especially true in a situation like Notre Dame's commitment from a high school phenom like Greenberry. There are a lot of very good high school receivers who were no longer interested in ND once the Irish "landed" Greenberry.
The problem for ND coach Brian Kelley and his staff was that they had not, in fact, landed Greenberry. Even though, according to published reports, Greenberry had given assurances via the telephone not only to Irish recruiting coordinator Mike Denbrock but also to Greenberry's own cousin and high school teammate, Tee Shepard, as late as January 31 that his commitment was solid, Greenberry astonished the world of recruiting by changing his mind on the morning of National LOI Day. Shepard, a defensive back who enrolled as an "early entrant" at ND in January, was totally taken off guard, as was Greenberry's high school coach and Shepard's father (Greenberry's uncle). Greenberry faxed in his LOI to the University of Houston, and ND was left holding the bag, with their fans scratching their collective heads and muttering to themselves. It's important to note that high schoolers are not required to sign a LOI on National LOI Day; that date is merely the earliest they can sign. Some high school seniors, wrestling with their decision, wait a couple of weeks or even longer before faxing in their LOI to the school they finally select.
There is no question that a seventeen year old high school kid can be unpredictable. But why not show some respect to the coaches who offered you a scholarship and to whom you gave a verbal commitment? If you felt unsure or that your verbal commitment was wavering, why not man up and give your recruiter at least a heads-up instead of pulling the rug out at the last possible moment? Where does a young athlete learn that kind of disrespect? Perhaps he took his cue from New England Patriots head coach Bill Belichick.
Belichik, who has won three Super Bowls and is considered by the majority of football experts to be the gold standard of the thirty-two NFL head coaches, is not known as a wonderful and warm human being. Case in point: the cutting of wide receiver Tikwan Underwood from the Pats' roster on the night before last Sunday's Super Bowl. The Patriots and the Giants had two whole weeks to prepare for the game, having won their conference championships on January 22. The only New England player whose health made him doubtful for the big game was tight end Rob Gronkowski. When the team doctors cleared Gronkowski to play, Belichick decided he didn't need Underwood and gave him the proverbial pink slip Saturday night. Belichick replaced Underwood on the roster with a defensive lineman, Alex Silvestro, who did not even end up playing. Team officials sheepishly admitted to the press that Underwood had done nothing wrong. The kid was gung ho to play, and even had the Patriots logo shaved into his hair. No doubt he had family and friends in Indianapolis to watch him perform. Small consolation to Underwood that, despite being cut, he still received a paycheck for the game.
You would think a guy like Belichick, whose M O includes leaving nothing to chance, would have figured out way before Super Bowl Eve that he needed an extra defensive lineman. But then again, you would also think that a guy like Greenberry, who was committed to Notre Dame for nine months, would have figured out way before National LOI Day that he really didn't want to go to school there. So much for loyalty in the environment of big time football.
Once a player commits to a team, two things directly result immediately. First, the coaches of that team may discontinue recruiting additional players at that same position, taking into account the NCAA scholarship limitations cited above. Secondly, even if the coaches decide to recruit additional players at that same position, some high school players who had been considering that school may opt to pick a different university for the simple reason that they do not want to take the risk of not being able to beat out that first committed player for playing time. This is especially true in a situation like Notre Dame's commitment from a high school phenom like Greenberry. There are a lot of very good high school receivers who were no longer interested in ND once the Irish "landed" Greenberry.
The problem for ND coach Brian Kelley and his staff was that they had not, in fact, landed Greenberry. Even though, according to published reports, Greenberry had given assurances via the telephone not only to Irish recruiting coordinator Mike Denbrock but also to Greenberry's own cousin and high school teammate, Tee Shepard, as late as January 31 that his commitment was solid, Greenberry astonished the world of recruiting by changing his mind on the morning of National LOI Day. Shepard, a defensive back who enrolled as an "early entrant" at ND in January, was totally taken off guard, as was Greenberry's high school coach and Shepard's father (Greenberry's uncle). Greenberry faxed in his LOI to the University of Houston, and ND was left holding the bag, with their fans scratching their collective heads and muttering to themselves. It's important to note that high schoolers are not required to sign a LOI on National LOI Day; that date is merely the earliest they can sign. Some high school seniors, wrestling with their decision, wait a couple of weeks or even longer before faxing in their LOI to the school they finally select.
There is no question that a seventeen year old high school kid can be unpredictable. But why not show some respect to the coaches who offered you a scholarship and to whom you gave a verbal commitment? If you felt unsure or that your verbal commitment was wavering, why not man up and give your recruiter at least a heads-up instead of pulling the rug out at the last possible moment? Where does a young athlete learn that kind of disrespect? Perhaps he took his cue from New England Patriots head coach Bill Belichick.
Belichik, who has won three Super Bowls and is considered by the majority of football experts to be the gold standard of the thirty-two NFL head coaches, is not known as a wonderful and warm human being. Case in point: the cutting of wide receiver Tikwan Underwood from the Pats' roster on the night before last Sunday's Super Bowl. The Patriots and the Giants had two whole weeks to prepare for the game, having won their conference championships on January 22. The only New England player whose health made him doubtful for the big game was tight end Rob Gronkowski. When the team doctors cleared Gronkowski to play, Belichick decided he didn't need Underwood and gave him the proverbial pink slip Saturday night. Belichick replaced Underwood on the roster with a defensive lineman, Alex Silvestro, who did not even end up playing. Team officials sheepishly admitted to the press that Underwood had done nothing wrong. The kid was gung ho to play, and even had the Patriots logo shaved into his hair. No doubt he had family and friends in Indianapolis to watch him perform. Small consolation to Underwood that, despite being cut, he still received a paycheck for the game.
You would think a guy like Belichick, whose M O includes leaving nothing to chance, would have figured out way before Super Bowl Eve that he needed an extra defensive lineman. But then again, you would also think that a guy like Greenberry, who was committed to Notre Dame for nine months, would have figured out way before National LOI Day that he really didn't want to go to school there. So much for loyalty in the environment of big time football.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Movie Review: "The Grey"
"The Grey": B-. The opening shot of "The Grey" scans the beautiful snow-covered mountains of Alaska, with hardy green pines being the only sign of life. We then meet John Ottway (Liam Neeson), a big rugged outdoorsman making his way into the raucous bar at a large oil company's camp. There are punches being thrown and loud cursing all around him, but Ottway is alone with his thoughts and his bottle at the bar. He narrates to us that these men who work the pipeline in the Alaskan outback are ex-cons, punks, trouble makers and assorted losers. Ottway seems too intelligent to be part of that scene, yet there he is. He is a sharp-shooter, hired by the company to pick off wolves and other animals who threaten the line workers. Accordingly, he is an expert on the habits of the northland's wild beasts. His mind wanders to a pretty woman who is lying in bed with him, telling him to be brave. That mental vision lasts only a few seconds. Abruptly he leaves the bar, contemplates suicide, but changes his mind and gets on the frigid company plane with thirty or forty other pipeline workers who are on their way to a job site in no man's land. Ottway does not want to join in the conversation. His vision of the woman comes back to him. Once again he's alone in his thoughts, just like he was at the bar.
The plane crashes in the mountains. Blood and guts are strewn across a large area. Ottway somehow survives the crash, along with only six other men. He comforts a dying man inside the plane, then reluctantly surmises that he alone among the survivors has the skills and the knowledge to give them a chance to remain alive while they hope against hope for rescue. Someone correctly predicts that their chances of being rescued are practically nil. If the searchers sent up forty planes, maybe they'd be spotted. But these men are nobodies, in their own eyes, so the search for them will more likely consist of only one or two planes.
Not everyone is keen on Ottway taking charge. After all, he wasn't elected. But it soon becomes apparent that they need a leader, and he is the most trusted. The men believe that their biggest challenges are avoiding starvation and freezing to death. There is one thing they overlooked, however: wolves. The group finds out the hard way when a wolfpack has one of the men for a late night snack. Good thing Ottway is a wolf expert. Can he lead the men to safety? Are they in the wolves' habitat, within a thirty mile radius of their den, or was the pack just passing through? They can't stay by the plane. There is too much blood in the snow, easily detected by the wolves. They head for the faraway trees, not knowing for sure if that is the direction they should be going.
Other than Ottway, we really do not learn much about the survivors. It took me awhile to remember their names. I identified them as the guy with the big glasses, the guy with the neck tattoo, the black guy, the guy with the swollen eye who prayed, etc. They were in many respects fungible characters, which was a weakness of the movie. It also seemed to me that the bitter cold was not dealt with realistically throughout the movie, only in sporadic scenes. In one scene a character is submerged in a river, yet his clothes come out of it without freezing. On the plus side, Neeson is perfectly cast. Rugged, intelligent, brave, believable. Toward the end of the movie we learn more about the woman in his dreams. Ottway had a lot on his mind besides his co-workers and the wolves.
The plane crashes in the mountains. Blood and guts are strewn across a large area. Ottway somehow survives the crash, along with only six other men. He comforts a dying man inside the plane, then reluctantly surmises that he alone among the survivors has the skills and the knowledge to give them a chance to remain alive while they hope against hope for rescue. Someone correctly predicts that their chances of being rescued are practically nil. If the searchers sent up forty planes, maybe they'd be spotted. But these men are nobodies, in their own eyes, so the search for them will more likely consist of only one or two planes.
Not everyone is keen on Ottway taking charge. After all, he wasn't elected. But it soon becomes apparent that they need a leader, and he is the most trusted. The men believe that their biggest challenges are avoiding starvation and freezing to death. There is one thing they overlooked, however: wolves. The group finds out the hard way when a wolfpack has one of the men for a late night snack. Good thing Ottway is a wolf expert. Can he lead the men to safety? Are they in the wolves' habitat, within a thirty mile radius of their den, or was the pack just passing through? They can't stay by the plane. There is too much blood in the snow, easily detected by the wolves. They head for the faraway trees, not knowing for sure if that is the direction they should be going.
Other than Ottway, we really do not learn much about the survivors. It took me awhile to remember their names. I identified them as the guy with the big glasses, the guy with the neck tattoo, the black guy, the guy with the swollen eye who prayed, etc. They were in many respects fungible characters, which was a weakness of the movie. It also seemed to me that the bitter cold was not dealt with realistically throughout the movie, only in sporadic scenes. In one scene a character is submerged in a river, yet his clothes come out of it without freezing. On the plus side, Neeson is perfectly cast. Rugged, intelligent, brave, believable. Toward the end of the movie we learn more about the woman in his dreams. Ottway had a lot on his mind besides his co-workers and the wolves.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Dillon Hall Diaries: Singing With The Temptations
I thought that, from time to time, I might do a post about what life was like at Notre Dame "back in the day," i.e., from 1965 to 1969. That was the four year span I spent there as an undergrad, majoring in finance. I have decided to label those posts as "Dillon Hall Diaries," in honor of my old haunt.
I lived in Dillon Hall from my sophomore year through my senior year. In those days, ND was all guys, and there were eighteen residence halls. Dillon, located on the South Quad right between Alumni Hall and the South Dining Hall, was home to over four hundred of us, by far the largest dorm. When you are a student at ND, and even after you graduate, people familiar with the school always want to know what hall you lived in. That was the quickest way to identify someone, even moreso than his major. There were (and are) no fraternities at ND, so the dorm you resided in functioned somewhat like a frat house. If your first mental image of a frat house is a bunch of guys living like slobs and never missing an excuse to throw down a beer or two, you could equally apply that concept to most of the Irish dorms, including Dillon. We studied very hard, but we partied heartily too. When college guys like us would go days, maybe even weeks, without talking to a girl, let alone having one visit us where we lived, it was not surprising that we just might have gotten a little rough around the edges.
Yes, it is true, we did in fact have maids. They showed up around 10:00 a.m., as I recall, and they were gone by about 2:00. They made the beds, and did a little mopping and dusting. Lord knows we would have never done those jobs ourselves, so my thinking is that the university hired those poor women to keep the city of South Bend from condemning half the dorms as uninhabitible. Most of the maids were gradmother types. Looking back, I'd say they were brave.
Every dorm also had a rector who was a Holy Cross priest. Ours was Father Flannigan, an art professor and a good guy. Like me, he lived on the first floor of our four story building, but he was at the opposite end next to the hall chapel. Because Dillon was so big, we also had a couple of other priests living in our midst. One was Father Burtchaell, a theology prof whose most interesting characteristic was his British accent. Father Burtchael was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but he had an aristocratic air about him which always made me think that the only reason he was quartered in Dillon was due to the lack of a vacancy in a more refined dorm like Fisher or Pangborn.
I mentioned above that Dillon was right next to the South Dining Hall. None of us had much spending money, and what little we did have was usually saved for weekend six packs. Therefore, we were economically forced to eat all of our meals in the South Dining Hall. Almost no one bothered to get up in time for breakfast. Instead, rolling out of the sack ten minutes before our first class was our preference. We knew we were not passing up a great meal. Lunch, even though our first meal of the day, was typically on the run. The food was crummy, the coffee tasted day-old, and since everyone was on his own schedule, being able to eat lunch with your friends was hit and miss. Dinner, on the other hand, was a different story, in many ways the highlight of the day, not because the evening grub was any great shakes, but because of the camaraderie before and during that repast, and especially afterwards. Instead of dessert we'd all have our cup of java and a smoke while discussing (and solving) the world's problems before venturing off for a long night of studying.
In my senior year there was a group of six or seven of us who lived in Dillon, and almost every night before we headed off to the South Dining Hall for dinner we would gather in one of the guys' rooms to sing along to the Temptations Greatest Hits album. The Temptations was our favorite Motown group. Although we were all white, one of our group, Joe Renice from Long Island, sounded exactly like David Ruffin, the lead singer on many of the Temptations' tunes. One evening during our sing-along, I was sprawled out on the top bunk, lying on my back with my eyes closed, singing my heart out. As usual, the music was so loud that I could barely hear my "fellow Temptations." About three fourths of the way through a song, I realized that I was the only one singing. I opened my eyes, propped myself up on an elbow, looked down and there was Father Burtchaell standing in the doorway. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but managed to restrain himself. For the rest of the year, every time I ran into him he made sure to ask me how my singing career was coming along.
I lived in Dillon Hall from my sophomore year through my senior year. In those days, ND was all guys, and there were eighteen residence halls. Dillon, located on the South Quad right between Alumni Hall and the South Dining Hall, was home to over four hundred of us, by far the largest dorm. When you are a student at ND, and even after you graduate, people familiar with the school always want to know what hall you lived in. That was the quickest way to identify someone, even moreso than his major. There were (and are) no fraternities at ND, so the dorm you resided in functioned somewhat like a frat house. If your first mental image of a frat house is a bunch of guys living like slobs and never missing an excuse to throw down a beer or two, you could equally apply that concept to most of the Irish dorms, including Dillon. We studied very hard, but we partied heartily too. When college guys like us would go days, maybe even weeks, without talking to a girl, let alone having one visit us where we lived, it was not surprising that we just might have gotten a little rough around the edges.
Yes, it is true, we did in fact have maids. They showed up around 10:00 a.m., as I recall, and they were gone by about 2:00. They made the beds, and did a little mopping and dusting. Lord knows we would have never done those jobs ourselves, so my thinking is that the university hired those poor women to keep the city of South Bend from condemning half the dorms as uninhabitible. Most of the maids were gradmother types. Looking back, I'd say they were brave.
Every dorm also had a rector who was a Holy Cross priest. Ours was Father Flannigan, an art professor and a good guy. Like me, he lived on the first floor of our four story building, but he was at the opposite end next to the hall chapel. Because Dillon was so big, we also had a couple of other priests living in our midst. One was Father Burtchaell, a theology prof whose most interesting characteristic was his British accent. Father Burtchael was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but he had an aristocratic air about him which always made me think that the only reason he was quartered in Dillon was due to the lack of a vacancy in a more refined dorm like Fisher or Pangborn.
I mentioned above that Dillon was right next to the South Dining Hall. None of us had much spending money, and what little we did have was usually saved for weekend six packs. Therefore, we were economically forced to eat all of our meals in the South Dining Hall. Almost no one bothered to get up in time for breakfast. Instead, rolling out of the sack ten minutes before our first class was our preference. We knew we were not passing up a great meal. Lunch, even though our first meal of the day, was typically on the run. The food was crummy, the coffee tasted day-old, and since everyone was on his own schedule, being able to eat lunch with your friends was hit and miss. Dinner, on the other hand, was a different story, in many ways the highlight of the day, not because the evening grub was any great shakes, but because of the camaraderie before and during that repast, and especially afterwards. Instead of dessert we'd all have our cup of java and a smoke while discussing (and solving) the world's problems before venturing off for a long night of studying.
In my senior year there was a group of six or seven of us who lived in Dillon, and almost every night before we headed off to the South Dining Hall for dinner we would gather in one of the guys' rooms to sing along to the Temptations Greatest Hits album. The Temptations was our favorite Motown group. Although we were all white, one of our group, Joe Renice from Long Island, sounded exactly like David Ruffin, the lead singer on many of the Temptations' tunes. One evening during our sing-along, I was sprawled out on the top bunk, lying on my back with my eyes closed, singing my heart out. As usual, the music was so loud that I could barely hear my "fellow Temptations." About three fourths of the way through a song, I realized that I was the only one singing. I opened my eyes, propped myself up on an elbow, looked down and there was Father Burtchaell standing in the doorway. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but managed to restrain himself. For the rest of the year, every time I ran into him he made sure to ask me how my singing career was coming along.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Left Tackles: The Baddest Of The Big Uglies
I always chuckle when the media calls six of the players on a football team's eleven man offensive unit "skill position players," as if the other guys, the five linemen, were chopped liver. By way of background, the so-called skill position players, according to the media, are the quarterback, the running backs, the wide receivers and the tight end. The remaing five are interior linemen, more precisely the left tackle, the left guard, the center, the right guard and the right tackle. Sometimes those five are affectionately referred to as "the big uglies." Other than the quarterback, who is usually the most highly compensated player on his NFL team and the brains of the outfit, the big uglies as a group are the smartest guys on the squad. It is not unusual for a rookie to play important minutes, maybe even start, if he is a skill position player other than QB, or else if he's on the defense. Not so for rookie offensive linemen. You will seldom see a rookie starting as an interior lineman, especially in the first two-thirds of the season. There is too much to learn in terms of the playbook, blocking schemes, audibles, defense recognition, footwork, leverage and other technical requirements. Perhaps the biggest reason why rookies don't often play much in the interior line is chemistry. It is the only unit in football which requires five guys to be on the same page for every play. If one of the starting five goes down to injury, things don't run nearly as smoothly when a sub comes in, because each guy on the line has a feel for how the guy(s) next to him do their jobs. That chemistry is not perfected overnight, maybe not even in the course of an entire season.
Of the five positions on an offensive line, the most important one and the spot requiring the most unique talents is the left tackle. This is not to say that the other four guys are second class. As noted above, the O-line functions as a unit and depends on a chemistry developed over a long period of time among the five. But the key guy, the baddest of the big uglies, is the left tackle. That explains why he is paid more than his buddies. You may ask, what makes the LT so valuable? To the typical fan in the stands, or TV armchair quarterback, all five of those guys toil in anonymity, they all look the same, and (except for the center snaps) they never touch the ball. What's the difference between the role of a LT and that of his linemates? Good thing you're reading this post, because I'm about to tell you.
Most NFL teams invest literally millions of dollars in their quarterbacks. Most QBs do not make a habit of running the ball. Instead, their bread and butter is the passing game. When a QB gets injured, it is usually because he was sacked. When a sack occurs, that's a result of one of two events: either the quarterback holds onto the ball too long (a "coverage sack") or a breakdown has occurred in the pass-protection blocking. Since most QBs are right-handed, their blind side is from the left side of the line of scrimmage. A left tackle's main responsibility is to protect his millionaire QB's blind side. Defensively, teams typically put their best pass rusher at right end, so that guy and the offensive left tackle are nose-to-nose for sixty to seventy snaps a game.
If blocking the other team's right defensive end was the left tackle's only responsibility, that would be tough enough. But there are a lot of other things which that big ugly must master. The footwork and leverage required for drive blocking on running plays is totally different than they are for dropping into pass protection. Unlike guards or centers, a left tackle usually is not involved in double-team blocking schemes. He is expected to beat his man one-on-one. The great left tackles (such as D'Brickashaw Ferguson of the Jets or Joe Thomas of the Browns) do not need blocking help from their tight ends. This frees up the tight end either to go out on a route as an additional receiver or to stay behind the line of scrimmage for max pass protection, perhaps helping out the right tackle. Sometimes the left tackle is called upon to seal-block on a sweep, which requires him to get outside the defensive end who is already lined up outside the tackle's left shoulder. Other times he has to check-block and then quickly get out to the flat to set up a screen pass. More screen passes are run to the left side than the right because they are basically counter plays. The idea is to get the defense flowing to its left (i.e., the offense's right), then tossing the ball against that flow to a receiver on the other side of the field. Guess who is in front of the guy catching the pass? You got it, the left tackle! The defense can be susceptible to this because most offenses run more to their right side, and the screen pass play starts out looking like a sweep to the right.
Once an offensive lineman is set, he is not permitted even to twitch. To do so results in a false start penalty. This is especially tough on the road, where eighty thousand of the home team's fans are screaming at the top of their lungs, rendering the QB's signals inaudible. The defense, on the other hand, can move around before the snap all it wants. This makes blocking assignments for the big uglies that much tougher. If the defense "shows blitz," a tackle might have to block a linebacker (instead of the right end) who has built up a head of steam before the collision with the LT. Since most linebackers in the NFL weigh anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds less than the left tackle, the latter needs quick feet and usually a long wingspan to keep the LB from speed rushing around him on a path to sacking the quarterback.
The two attributes identified at the end of the immediately preceding paragraph (quick feet and long winspan) are identified by O-line coaches in their pre-season evaluations of whether to place one of their behemoths at LT or RT. A man who is not blessed with either, but is too big to play guard or center, will probably be designated for RT. In defense of RTs, they may be better at drive blocking than their teammate at LT. Also, sometimes with a year or two of experience at RT, the coaches might move him to the more difficult LT spot.
The fastest way for an offense to score is with "the long bomb," that is, a pass which is in the air at least forty yards. In order to pull that off, a QB has to take a five or seven step drop to give his receiver time to get down field. This can only be accomplished if the big uglies keep the defenders at bay. If the O-line is getting manhandled by the defense, the offense will be relegated to three-step drops and a quicker release by the QB. The result is shorter timing passes and no long bombs. Once the long bomb is, for all intents and purposes, removed from the playbook, the safeties can play up closer to the line to stop the run. If you think all that sounds like a domino effect, you're right. The entire offensive game plan can be shredded if the O-line has a bad day.
When you watch the Super Bowl this Sunday, do yourself a favor. Instead of watching the ball every play, keep your eyes on the battle in the trenches, i.e., the line of scrimmage. The team with the more effective offensive line will probably win the game.
Of the five positions on an offensive line, the most important one and the spot requiring the most unique talents is the left tackle. This is not to say that the other four guys are second class. As noted above, the O-line functions as a unit and depends on a chemistry developed over a long period of time among the five. But the key guy, the baddest of the big uglies, is the left tackle. That explains why he is paid more than his buddies. You may ask, what makes the LT so valuable? To the typical fan in the stands, or TV armchair quarterback, all five of those guys toil in anonymity, they all look the same, and (except for the center snaps) they never touch the ball. What's the difference between the role of a LT and that of his linemates? Good thing you're reading this post, because I'm about to tell you.
Most NFL teams invest literally millions of dollars in their quarterbacks. Most QBs do not make a habit of running the ball. Instead, their bread and butter is the passing game. When a QB gets injured, it is usually because he was sacked. When a sack occurs, that's a result of one of two events: either the quarterback holds onto the ball too long (a "coverage sack") or a breakdown has occurred in the pass-protection blocking. Since most QBs are right-handed, their blind side is from the left side of the line of scrimmage. A left tackle's main responsibility is to protect his millionaire QB's blind side. Defensively, teams typically put their best pass rusher at right end, so that guy and the offensive left tackle are nose-to-nose for sixty to seventy snaps a game.
If blocking the other team's right defensive end was the left tackle's only responsibility, that would be tough enough. But there are a lot of other things which that big ugly must master. The footwork and leverage required for drive blocking on running plays is totally different than they are for dropping into pass protection. Unlike guards or centers, a left tackle usually is not involved in double-team blocking schemes. He is expected to beat his man one-on-one. The great left tackles (such as D'Brickashaw Ferguson of the Jets or Joe Thomas of the Browns) do not need blocking help from their tight ends. This frees up the tight end either to go out on a route as an additional receiver or to stay behind the line of scrimmage for max pass protection, perhaps helping out the right tackle. Sometimes the left tackle is called upon to seal-block on a sweep, which requires him to get outside the defensive end who is already lined up outside the tackle's left shoulder. Other times he has to check-block and then quickly get out to the flat to set up a screen pass. More screen passes are run to the left side than the right because they are basically counter plays. The idea is to get the defense flowing to its left (i.e., the offense's right), then tossing the ball against that flow to a receiver on the other side of the field. Guess who is in front of the guy catching the pass? You got it, the left tackle! The defense can be susceptible to this because most offenses run more to their right side, and the screen pass play starts out looking like a sweep to the right.
Once an offensive lineman is set, he is not permitted even to twitch. To do so results in a false start penalty. This is especially tough on the road, where eighty thousand of the home team's fans are screaming at the top of their lungs, rendering the QB's signals inaudible. The defense, on the other hand, can move around before the snap all it wants. This makes blocking assignments for the big uglies that much tougher. If the defense "shows blitz," a tackle might have to block a linebacker (instead of the right end) who has built up a head of steam before the collision with the LT. Since most linebackers in the NFL weigh anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds less than the left tackle, the latter needs quick feet and usually a long wingspan to keep the LB from speed rushing around him on a path to sacking the quarterback.
The two attributes identified at the end of the immediately preceding paragraph (quick feet and long winspan) are identified by O-line coaches in their pre-season evaluations of whether to place one of their behemoths at LT or RT. A man who is not blessed with either, but is too big to play guard or center, will probably be designated for RT. In defense of RTs, they may be better at drive blocking than their teammate at LT. Also, sometimes with a year or two of experience at RT, the coaches might move him to the more difficult LT spot.
The fastest way for an offense to score is with "the long bomb," that is, a pass which is in the air at least forty yards. In order to pull that off, a QB has to take a five or seven step drop to give his receiver time to get down field. This can only be accomplished if the big uglies keep the defenders at bay. If the O-line is getting manhandled by the defense, the offense will be relegated to three-step drops and a quicker release by the QB. The result is shorter timing passes and no long bombs. Once the long bomb is, for all intents and purposes, removed from the playbook, the safeties can play up closer to the line to stop the run. If you think all that sounds like a domino effect, you're right. The entire offensive game plan can be shredded if the O-line has a bad day.
When you watch the Super Bowl this Sunday, do yourself a favor. Instead of watching the ball every play, keep your eyes on the battle in the trenches, i.e., the line of scrimmage. The team with the more effective offensive line will probably win the game.
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