Posts Tagged ‘Jimmy Cannon’

Why Would They Throw Rocks?

Friday, November 2nd, 2018

By Bob Gaydos

Occasionally, when the news has gotten away from me — too much, too fast to have reasonable, well-thought-out opinions on all of it — I borrow a device used to great effect by the late, great sports columnist Jimmy Cannon. Jimmy had opinions on lots of things and from time to time would tell readers, “Nobody asked me, but …”

I have found that this approach helps clear my mind and provides a touch of sanity. So …

— Maybe it’s just me, but why would they throw rocks? By “they,” I mean the unarmed members of the “caravan’’ of Central American asylum seekers that Drumpf sees as such a threat to national security he says he may send 15,000 troops to the U.S.-Mexico border to protect us. The dotard-in-chief, who studiously avoided military service, says rocks will be answered with bullets. Well, first of all, no they won’t. Established procedure for such missions, which is outside the usual scope of the regular military, calls for troops to protect themselves and avoid responding if objects (like rocks) are thrown, unless their lives, or others’ lives are in danger. Then, deal with the situation. This is typical Trump tough talk to rile the bigot base. If you’re fleeing violence at home, looking for a safe haven for you and your family — and there are thousands of families in this “caravan” — why would you throw rocks at armed, trained troops at your chosen destination? Another thing. Not all the troops will be armed because, well, there’s no need and it helps avoid an unnecessary, tragic over-reaction. One report said a few migrants briefly scuffled with Mexican police at a border crossing — some rocks may have been thrown — but it was quickly resolved, no shots were fired and the migrants got in line and were quickly processed. But that story doesn’t get the bigot vote out.

 — Maybe it’s just me, 

Jamal Khashoggi

Jamal Khashoggi

but does anybody remember what that story was out of Saudi Arabia, or maybe it was Turkey? Something about a journalist who lived in Virginia because he wrote some stuff for the Washington Post that the royal poohbah prince of all princes didn’t like and the journalist was afraid to live in his homeland, which the prince was reportedly dragging out of medieval times but really wasn’t, and so the journalist went to the Saudi embassy in Turkey to get a document that verified he was divorced, which would enable him to marry his Turkish fiancée, but while he was in the embassy the paunchy, middle-aged journalist picked a fight with 18 Saudi goons who just wanted to ask him a few questions and it wound up with him being tortured and dismembered while still alive? I think it’s something like that. And the Saudis denied it and the Turks said we’ve got proof and then the Saudis said, well maybe it happened, but it was an accident and the prince had nothing to do with it and we will make sure these guys with the bone saws are punished, but don’t go threatening not to sell weapons to us, America, or we will stop buying condos in Trump properties and Trump said, at first, that he asked the prince about it and the kid denied it, and then Trump said, well, if he lied something “bad” would happen to the Saudis, but so far nobody knows where the body is and nothing bad has happened to anyone except the journalist, Jamal Khashoggi, and his fiancée. I think that’s it. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like kind of a big deal.

— And the bombs. A dozen, sent in the mail to Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, George Soros, CNN and a bunch of other public figures who have been critical of Trump‘s policies. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems that a president who lies about everything, uses violent language at campaign rallies and refuses to condemn hate groups, might want to cool his rhetoric and assume some responsibility for the effect of his inflammatory words on people looking for any excuse to vent their anger and resentment at conveniently provided targets. Maybe not provide those targets. And maybe that same president might actually want to pick up the phone and call the targets of those mail bombs and express regret that someone who is clearly one of his followers is apparently responsible for them. Also, maybe say that he’s glad no one was hurt. Again, maybe it’s just me, but when asked if he’s going to make those phone calls, the president in question doesn’t say, “I think I’ll pass.”

— Speaking of passing, maybe it’s just me, but I think if I were an NBC-TV executive, I would’ve passed on the “opportunity” to hire Megyn Kelly away from Fox News and give her a morning chat show where she could not only demonstrate her outstanding inability to be chatty, but also remind NBC viewers what coffee-talk racism sounds like. Knowing that she smilingly told any kids watching her on Fox that Santa Claus was, without question, undeniably and proudly white, how could NBC execs be surprised to learn that she felt there was no problem with white kids going out on Halloween in black face? She said they did it all the time when she was a kid. Maybe in her neighborhood; not in mine. Maybe it’s just me, but I think people who do that at Fox aren’t faking it and the NBC folks were just hoping she wouldn’t revert to form.

— Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think any of the above is normal or acceptable.

— And finally, after a half century of informing the people to the best of my ability, I don’t like a pathological liar who praises a congressman for body-slamming a reporter calling me the enemy of the people. No maybe about it.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

The Jimmys: Murray, Cannon, Palmer

Saturday, April 15th, 2017

This column appeared first on Zest on Sept. 11, 2010. It is offered as a companion to Jeremiah Horrigan’s nostalgic piece on baseball, which also appears on Zest this week.

By Bob Gaydos

Jim Palmer ... handsome as ever

Jim Palmer … handsome as ever

At one point in my four-plus decades in newspapers, I was a sports editor. It was for a paper in Binghamton, but it was still a great job. I got to go to sports editor seminars where everybody talked sports, hung out, ate and drank. I got to cover some Yankee games. Jerry Izenberg, former columnist for the Newark Star-Ledger once lent me his typewriter (see Wikipedia) so I could file my story after a game because I had left my machine in Binghamton. I also once interviewed Baltimore Orioles ace pitcher Jim Palmer as he soothed his aching body in the whirlpool. Yes, au natural. And yes, the sonofagun was as handsome in person as he was on TV.

But the best part of being a sports editor was that I also got to write a column on whatever I pleased. The bosses preferred local topics, of course, but it was Binghamton so they let me wander off to professional sports. And when their travels brought them to the Southern Tier, I talked with the likes of Roger Staubach (polite, if dull), Rocky Graziano (the textbook image of a pug) and, too briefly, Jackie Robinson. All in all, it seemed like the best job in the world and I often wondered wistfully, as my career veered back to the hard news side, what life might have been like if I had pursued a career as a sports columnist.

Now I know and now I have no regrets. I found the answer in a discarded copy of Jim Murray’s autobiography, which I picked up for a buck at the Thrall Library used book store (still the best deal in town if you read without the aid of a Kindle). Murray, one of the founding fathers of Sports Illustrated, was also a nationally syndicated sports columnist for the Los Angeles Times. He covered everything from NASCAR to golf and his style was unique. Murray was not a numbers guy. He didn’t cover events so much as the people participating in them.

On Muhammad Ali: “He didn’t have fights, he gave recitals. The opponent was just the piano, the backdrop. All eyes were on Ali. He loved it. It was his stage, his life. He was like Bob Hope with a troop audience. Olivier at the Old Vic.”

And what of the column that won him a Pulitzer and made him famous? Murray: “(It) came into my life in 1961. And took it over. A column is more than a demanding mistress. It is a raging master. It consumes you. It is insatiable. It becomes more you than you. You are not a person, you are a publicly owned facility. Available on demand.

“It has a calamitous effect on family relations. It confuses the kids’ identities. It rearranges your priorities — and not for the better.

“Jimmy Cannon had the right idea. He apparently accepted the fact early that he was wedded to the column. And he lived alone in a midtown Manhattan hotel and devoted his whole life to it.”

Maybe it‘s just me, but it sounds like Jimmy Cannon (one of my other favorites) shortchanged himself on the whole “we only have one life to live” deal. I was thinking about the two Jimmys because I had just spent the weekend watching some of the most godawful professional football games that people were ever asked to fork over a couple of grand for. The kind of games that rekindle the romance of high school football Friday nights.

Take the Jets. “Please,” as Henny Youngman (whom I once met in an art gallery in Woodstock) famously said.

Maybe it’s just me, but if Mark Sanchez is ready for prime time, so is Jimmy Fallon. The Ravens’ best play was pass interference on third and long. But hey, don’t beat up on Sanchez too much. Tony Romo and Philip Rivers and Drew Brees and Bret Favre — established stars all — all stunk up the joint in their first games.

Maybe it’s just me, but when most opening games were comedies of errors and penalties (Washington vs. Dallas was almost unwatchable) and ex-con Michael Vick is your standout quarterback, if you’re the NFL you should think twice about cutting the preseason by two weeks and adding two games to the regular schedule.

And don’t get me started on Joe Girardi. He makes Keanu Reeves seem animated. Girardi doesn’t manage games so much as he scans actuarial reports. He has all the instincts of a computer. If he has the best job in baseball, how come he never smiles? Just asking.

One more thought before I get too carried away with this whole sports column thing: If, as some observers claim, Tiger Woods being unable to play golf at a high level is good for the game because it has opened the field to so many other unknown golfers to make their names, how come the golf writers keep writing only about Tiger’s struggles and we still don’t know the names of those other golfers?

Maybe it’s just me, but I think the two Jims — Murray and Cannon — would have loved writing about Tiger. After all, he doesn’t just win in grand style, leaving the rest of the field in shambles, he loses in epic fashion, his life burning down around him like some tragic Greek hero out of Aeschylus. Win or lose, all eyes are on the Tiger. The score is secondary.

And I apologize for all the name-dropping.

(Editors note: For younger readers, a column is to newspapers what a blog is to a website.)

rjgaydos@gmail.com