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Exxxtasy Show, July 16-18, Chicago
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CINEMA SEEN - "Bleeding Pinstripes!" By William Margold It had been a tumultuous baseball season for my beloved New York Yankees---filled with a number of lows but eventually more highs, and then one more low, that made the passing of the past six months speed by to the extent that only now I am able to catch my breath. Managing to land the Wild Card spot in the American League, the Yankees were quickly dispatched by The Cleveland Indians, causing me to shrug and utter the sentiment---"Tomorrow is April and the day after that is October." And thus another season of New York Yankees adoration was relegated to my memory banks comforted by the fact that during my five decades plus (accidentally aware of the team in 1953, but really being fully aware of them by 1956...which is a very touching tale all in itself) of devotion to the legendary professional baseball entity---I have been warmly rewarded with ten, count ’em, TEN World Championships. So come f...ing on, just how upset was I supposed to be? Besides...now I was going to be able to dedicate a Cinema Seen page to an ESPN TV mini-series that had made a portion of the summer go by quite enjoyably---THE BRONX IS BURNING----the superlative recounting of the tumultuous 1977 baseball season set against the backdrop of a New York City that was juggling the hysteria of "Son of Sam, " political unrest, sizzling temperatures, and even a blackout. I started to write. The phone rang. It was The LAXPRESS’s redoubtable sports columnist Joey Alkes, a gentleman who bleeds Yankee pinstripes, urgently in need of utilizing me as his "wailing wall" (something that very good friends do from time to time) in an attempt to exorcise his sorrow over New York’s fate. Trying to explain that I had a column to write, Joey was having none of it, as he filled the airwaves with his heartbroken sentiments. Unprintable expletives caused my ears to burn, so much in fact, that I placed the phone down by my computer, so that I could at least contemplate my empty screen on which my excitement over having watched THE BRONX IS BURNING would eventually come to life. Joey’s voice finally rasped out its final lament. And I prepared to discuss the wonderfully insightful (and at times painful) performances of the series’ three principles characters: John Turturro as the Yankees’ scrappy manager Billy Martin (an Emmy nomination worthy turn if there ever was one), Oliver Platt as George Steinbrenner, New York’s bombastic owner (equally Emmy nomination worthy), and Daniel Sunjata as the magnetic Reggie Jackson. I started to write. The phone rang. It was Jason Green, a relatively young (considering that Joey and I are in the twilight of our rooting lives) Yankees fan who resides in Las Vegas. Now it was his time to tell me that he was tossing his Yankees hat back into the closet for another winter. I reminded him of much "fearful fun" the season had been. And of how miserable we were at the end of May after losing three straight to the hateful Angels (from wherever)...in Yankee Stadium!!! And how we had "risen from the dead" to slug our way into the playoffs. And that we were "truly lucky to be Yankees fans." I told him that I was going to create a column about Jeremiah Chechik’s masterfully directed THE BRONX IS BURNING. I started to write. The phone rang. It was Dolph Rotfeld from New York---the elder statesman in my life---whose love of the ("our") Yankees is only exceeded by his passion for The Green Bay Packers...as is mine for The Detroit Lions. His mournful sigh of resolution spoke volumes of disappointment. I told him that I was going to write a piece about THE BRONX IS BURNING...and he told me (his tone now glowing with warm reflection) that he was in Yankee Stadium the October night that Reggie hit the three home runs to finish off the Dodgers in the 1977 World Series. And if I had needed a spark to ignite the piece you are reading, Dolph’s sharing of his magical moments on that cold autumn night 30 years ago would have been more than sufficient. But you must remember, I had already reconciled myself NOT to take the Yankees losing in the playoffs SO seriously. Yeah...and I guess that’s why I superstitiously started growing a beard right after they lost those three games to The Angels (from wherever) back in May. I started to write. end NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, October 25, 2007, issue. |