This Date in History - September 7

If you're wondering why this photo is here, you will have to wait.  And read.

70:  A ROMAN ARMY UNDER TITUS OCCUPIES AND PLUNDERS JERUSALEM.

Obviously, Titus should have been called "Tight Ass."

1228:  HOLY ROMAN EMPEROR FREDERICK II LANDED IN ACRE, PALESTINE AND STARTED THE SIXTH CRUSADE, WHICH RESULTED IN A PEACEFUL RESTITUTION OF THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM.

So, the damage inflicted by Titus/Tight Ass was not permanent.

1652:  AROUND 15,000 HAN FARMERS AND MILITIA REBEL AGAINST DUTCH RULE ON TAIWAN.

Hmmm.  No Droopy explanation here.

1776:  IN THE WORLD'S FIRST SUBMARINE ATTACK, THE AMERICAN "TURTLE" ATTEMPTS TO ATTACH A TIME BOMB TO THE HULL OF THE HMS "EAGLE" IN NEW YORK HARBOR.

Submarines in 1776?  Are you telling me that George Washington didn't necessarily have to make that crossing in a row boat?

1822:  DOM PEDRO I DECLARES BRAZIL INDEPENDENT FROM PORTUGAL ON THE SHORES OF THE IPIRANGA CREEK IN SAO PAOLO.

And....no Droopy explanation here.

1860:  STEAMSHIP LADY ELGIN SINKS ON LAKE MICHIGAN, WITH THE LOSS OF AROUND 400 LIVES.

Around 400?  Okay, what does that mean?  399?  401?  History needs to be specific.

1860:  PAINTER GRANDMA MOSES IS BORN.

And doesn't die until 1961!

1876:  IN NORTHFIELD, MINNESOTA, JESSE JAMES AND THE JAMES-YOUNGER GANG ATTEMPT TO ROB THE TOWN'S BANK BUT ARE DRIVEN OFF BY ARMED CITIZENS.

Armed citizens?  I love that concept.

1901:  THE BOXER REBELLION IN CHINA OFFICIALLY ENDS WITH THE SIGNING OF THE BOXER PROTOCOL.

What the hell is boxer protocol?  No hitting below the belt.

1907:  RMS LUSITANIA SETS SAIL ON HER MAIDEN VOYAGE FROM LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND TO NEW YORK CITY.

I'm just guessing, but I'm not thinking there's a long shelf life for this tub.

1909:  DIRECTOR ELIA KAZAN IS BORN.

He didn't die until 2003, so Grandma Moses is still the bigger winner in today's blog.

1911:  FRENCH POET GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE IS ARRESTED AND PUT IN JAIL ON SUSPICION OF STEALING THE MONA LISA FROM THE LOUVRE.

It's not like you can hide it under your coat.

1921:  IN ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, THE FIRST MISS AMERICA PAGEANT IS HELD.

Grandma Moses is already 61 years old, so she was not eligible.

1923:  ACTOR PETER LAWFORD IS BORN.

He didn't make it past the age 0f 61, which means Grandma Moses didn't drink or snort coke.

1926:  VOICEOVER ACTOR DON MESSICK IS BORN.

Ta-da!  He was Droopy!!!!!!!  Also, Boo Boo Bear, Astro, and Muttley. 

1936:  MUSICIAN BUDDY HOLLY IS BORN.

And that'll be the day that he was born.

1940:  THE WORLD WAR II BLITZ BEGINS AS NAZI GERMANY BEGINS TO RAIN BOMBS OVER LONDON.

I have a good friend who lived through this.  And you thought the upstairs neighbors were noisy?

1945:  JAPANESE FORCES ON WAKE ISLAND SURRENDER TO U.S. MARINES.

The Sayonara tour begins.

1950:  ACTRESS JULIE KAVNER IS BORN.

It's cartoon voice day on Len Speaks!

1953:  NIKITA KHRUSHCHEV IS ELECTED FIRST SECRETARY OF THE COMMUNIST PARTY OF THE SOVIET UNION.

Well, we know he didn't get the job because of his good looks.

1963:  THE PRO FOOTBALL HALL OF FAME OPENS IN CANTON, OHIO.

Why do they always put these sports halls of fame in places that are so hard to get to?

1970:  BILL SHOEMAKER BECOMES THE WINNINGEST HORSE RACING JOCKEY OF ALL TIME.

Big deal.  He's still short.

1971:  ACTRESS SPRING BYINGTON DIES.

From December Bride to September Corpse.

1978:  ROCK MUSICIAN KEITH MOON OF THE WHO DIES.

How?  Where?  When?  Why?

1979:  ESPN MAKES ITS DEBUT.

And sports broadcasting begins its slow and painful descent to earth.

1982:  BASEBALL PLAYER KEN BOYER DIES.

Brother of Clete.  Son of Charles.

1986:  DESMOND TUTU BECOMES THE FIRST BLACK MAN TO LEAD THE ANGLICAN CHURCH IN SOUTH AFRICA.

If Shania Twain married him, she'd be Shania Twain Tutu.

1996:  HIP HOP STAR TUPAC SHAKUR IS SHOT AND KILLED IN LAS VEGAS.

Tupac spelling backwards is Kaput.

2003:  ROCK MUSICIAN WARREN ZEVON DIES.

Werewolves of London?  There, wolves of London.

2005:  THE FIRST PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION IS HELD IN EGYPT.

Yeah, that worked out long term.

2008:  THE US GOVERNMENT TAKES CONTROL OF THE TWO LARGEST MORTGAGE FINANCING COMPANIES IN AMERICA, FANNIE MAE AND FREDDIE MAC.

Ooops, there goes the economy.  Good news, though.  Jed Clampett still maintained control of Elly Mae.

Dinner last night:  Leftovers plus salad.

My 2011 Dodger Talk Experience

Here's your unflappable blog writer along with KABC's Dodger Talk hosts and uber-nice guys, Joe Block and Josh Suchon.  They were also conveniently my hosts for another evening that will go down in the highlight reel of my life.

Steady (or, unsteady, as would be more likely) readers of this daily flotsam may now be wondering.

Hey, Len, didn't you do this last year?  Heck, I remember reading some other long tome about this.

Well, yes, I did.  And the blog entry was pretty lengthy.  If you never read it, go back to the Len Speaks edition of Friday, August 13, 2010 and catch yourself up.

Somehow, I wound up back in the Dodger Stadium press box for a 2011 game and this year's experience, like "The Godfather, Part 2," topped the original.

And, frankly, I wasn't even looking to do it again.  Yes, gang, here comes some requisite but much needed Hollywood backstory.

A truly positive (and perhaps only) legacy that the Frank McCourt family will leave the Los Angeles Dodgers is the development of the Think Cure foundation, donated to raising money and awareness for cancer research.  It's the Southern California version of the Jimmy Fund, which was a long time charity of the Boston Red Sox and originally shepherded by Ted Williams.

Think Cure's annual fundraising event includes a telethon and an on-line auction for memorablia and stadium "experiences."  Now, in any given year, I'm going to donate a certain chunk to a cancer cause, remembering, of course, a parent and several other relatives who bravely tried to battle the disease.   Why not give some dough and get something tangible in return?

Several years back, I dipped my toe into the philantrophic waters, but stayed squarely in the shallow end.  I got myself a baseball autographed by Clayton Kershaw. 

Last year, I shot a little higher.  One of the "experiences" offered was the opportunity to be a "co-host" of KABC's Dodger Talk, the post-game show that follows all Dodger games.  For those not familiar, it's perhaps the most balanced and intelligent of all Major League Baseball team post-game shows.  Years of listening to "Vinnie from Bayonne" calling in to bash Mets manager Davey Johnson give me the credence to make that declaration.

Okay, you've had several paragraphs to reconnect with last year's story, but, if you haven't, I'll provide a quick thumbnail summary.  I watched the game in the press box.  I had an introduction to the legendary Vin Scully among others.  And I got to have a bit of a stuttery moment on the air after the game.  Still, it was all superlative, thanks mainly due to Josh Suchon and then-host Ken Levine, whose terrific blog is now linked to mine and vice versa.

So, the 2011 Think Cure auction rolls around and I survey the list of goodies.  Hmm, the Dodger Talk experience is up for grabs again.  Now, as much as I enjoyed it last year, I hesitate to bid on it.  How much better could it be?  And, what would happen if I show up again and I get a reaction from one of the hosts that clearly translates to "oh, hi, it's you again?"

I opt to zone in on a piece of art.  Why?  No clue.  But, it's an artist's interpretation of the Brooklyn Dodger celebration following Game 7 of the 1955 World Series.  Surely, I can hang it someplace.  And, frankly, I'm not a patron of the arts.  I couldn't tell the esthetic difference between the Mona Lisa and two comic strip panels from last Sunday's Blondie.

So, I dive into bidding for this painting and soon discover myself in an on-line war with some kook from Pacoima.  As the price keeps going up and up, I wonder just how commited I am to funding this artist's next five gallery showings.   A donation to cancer research is one thing.  The last third of my life being spent on a diet of ramen noodles is another.  And, besides, I don't have the wall space.

I sincerely hope the kook from Pacoima is enjoying his purchase.

At the eleventh hour, I shifted focus and surveyed what was still within the economic realm of the last stimulus package.  Hmmm.  The Dodger Talk experience was still up and. with decimal places, in a price stratosphere closer to Mercury than Pluto.   This, of course, was long before my 401K headed down a non-Chavez Ravine.  But, like Jerry Lewis used to do on his telethon, I'm still thinking about the sick kids.  I placed a bid on Dodger Talk.

And wound up in another bidding war.  Who the hell is this person?  The Kook from Pacoima had been replaced by a Pest from Pasadena.  The price escalated and I amazingly continued to climb right along with it.  I started to wonder if this is how Bernie Madoff got started.

I hung in there long enough for the deadline clock to strike high noon and/or Carpal-Tunnel pain started to bother the Pest from Pasadena.  I would be heading back to Dodger Talk. 

My winning contribution cleared my credit card in record time with American Airlines Advantage miles to boot, thank you very much.  But, for several weeks following the auction, there was radio silence regarding plans for my 2011 Dodger Talk experience.   In 2010, I had heard from co-host Josh Suchon pretty quickly.  Not so this year.  I still had his contact info and I thought about forging ahead and e-mailing/calling him myself.  But, what if he was clearly in "oh, hi, it's you again" mode?  I decided to contact the charity directly.

A few days later, I heard back from Ingrid at Think Cure with many apologies.  The original contact at the charity had left the foundation and my experience was one of those which had fallen through the cracks.  In several phone calls and e-mails, she apologized so much that I began to think she had actually seen how low my 401K had subsequently dropped.  I kept reassuring her that I was not worried, but she kept apologizing.  Gee, I didn't give that much.  Or did I?  Nevertheless, Ingrid was intent on following this through and wouldn't rest until my Dodger Talk experience was scheduled.

I did hear from KABC and my date was confirmed.  I touched base with Josh and I didn't discern an audible grimace on the other end of the phone.  I was good to go.  But, Ingrid still didn't feel right.  More notes thanking me for my kindness and patience.  One more e-mail and I expected an invitation to her house for Thanksgiving.

Then, Ingrid e-mails me...

"Is this your current home address?"

Hmmm.  Maybe she's actually coming over to my house to cook Thanksgiving dinner.

Another e-mail...

"Who's your favorite Dodger?"

I see where this is going.  I tell her Clayton Kershaw.  And add that I have an autographed ball and wear "his" jersey when he pitches.  But, I offer up Matt Kemp and Chad Billingsley as worthy replacements.

Another e-mail...

"We're sending something out today."

Two days later, an envelope arrives.  It's not bulky, so it's obviously not a baseball.  I tear it open like it's Christmas morning to find...

A garment bag adorned by the Major League Baseball logo.

Huh?  Is this their sneaky way of telling me I have tickets to the World Series?

In a rare moment of genius, I zip open the garment bag.  And find a jersey autographed by Chad Billingsley.

I thought about the painting I was bidding on.  And backing out because I had no place to hang it.

Once framed, this Chad Billingsley jersey will easily find a home in my home.  I may have to move to a place with more walls, but that will be a problem for another day.  A terrific bonus from the folks at Think Cure.

When it came to my actual Dodger Talk appearance, I didn't need any bonuses.  At the door to the Vin Scully Press Box, I was met warmly by Josh Suchon.  When introduced to new Dodger Talk co-host Joe Block, he noted that I would be missing last year's co-host/famed comedy writer Ken Levine, who has moved on to doing radio play-by-play for the Seattle Mariners.  Joe was almost apologetic.

"The only thing I know about Cheers is that Coach died."

No worries.  If needed, I can easily find Ken on Facebook.  

Josh attempted to introduce me to the other Dodger broadcasters, but all of them were in their private dining room enjoying a pre-game repast.  Having a moment last year with Vin Scully, I had already exhausted our connection of having WFUV and Fordham University in our mutual pasts.  I had struggled to think about what I would say to him this year.  Oddly, I was happy to be spared the handshake and the small talk in 2011.

While most of my experience was exactly the same as it had been in 2010, save for Joe replacing Ken, it felt almost mystically different.  Chowing down on a turkey burger (same as last year) in the press box cafeteria known affectionately as Dave's Diner, I had the weird sensation that I belonged.  

Heck, a career like this is what I longed for when I was in college, but opportunities and largely talent moved me into other arenas.  But, thanks to the ultra-congenial atmosphere anchored by Josh and Joe, I felt simply like another reporter in the room.  And that was a very good feeling indeed.

The game was a long one as Padre starting pitcher Tim Stauffer morphed into Steve Blass and walked seven, count 'em, seven batters in the second inning.  Then, allegedly-injured Dodger Andre Ethier recovered from what might have been overnight arthroscopic surgery on his knee and hit a grand slam.  The final score wound up Dodger 8, Padres 5.  For me, the game lasted long enough and really not long enough.  I had a thoroughly fabulous time with my two hosts as we simply, to quote Joe Block, "talked some ball."

Once again, as we chatted all night, I got to watch Josh and Joe do their homework for the post-game show.  Early on, they began to frame the topics they would put out there for the callers.  I marveled at how buttoned up they are.  Meanwhile, I look around at some of the other members of the press corps.  One is reading the "Beverly Hills Courier," as if such a newspaper actually has a sports department.  Most are in and out of their Facebook pages. 

Hey, wait, I do a lot of the same stuff at work, too.

Last year, my cameo appearance on the Dodger Talk post-game show was really a "Where's Waldo" moment.  And, unfortunately, I stumbled, mumbled, and fumbled through some jibberish about how disappointing the 2010 Dodger season had been.  Trust me.  Airchecks can not be found in the broadcasting wing of the Cooperstown Baseball Hall of Fame.

This year, however,  I prepped as I listened to Josh and Joe do their own prep.  I thought about the three topics they were focusing on and began to formulate my own responses to them.  Just in case they asked.

Well, they did.  And, according to friends around the country who listened to the show via podcast which can be found here (http://kabc.com/Article.asp?id=2275220&spid=33844), I was blended so seamlessly into the show that I came off like a regular feature of the show.  Said friends also commented on how terrificly balanced and professional a post-game call-in show could be for a baseball franchise.  I wonder out loud just how bad Marlins Talk is.

It, and I, sounded good for a reason.  Josh and Joe do their homework and show their passion.  And it winds up on the air.

And this explains why I'm already looking forward to another on-line auction, another winning donation (Fidelity Investments willing), and another good time at Dodger Talk.  Sure, one of these years, I'm expecting to show up and find that Josh Suchon and Joe Block have been gobbled by other baseball teams and are now the radio or TV play-by-play guys working in the visitor's booth. 

Well, in that case, I am available.  And slightly experienced.

Or maybe I'll just bid on some artwork.  Contingent, of course, on Ingrid from Think Cure finding me a new condo with more square footage.

Whatever the case, there is no better cause than cancer research.  Those children are the ultimate winners to any on-line auction.

Dinner last night:  Grilled sausage, macaroni salad, and cole slaw.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 5, 2011

The always hilarious Charles Nelson Reilly.

Dinner last night:  Thai chicken sausage at the Hollywood Bowl Rooftop Grill.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Laborious Day

Here's a photo of New York City's Labor Day Parade in 1882.  There was such a celebration?  Did people flock to it?  Was it covered by Bob Eubanks and Stephanie Edwards?

The fact that they were celebrating Labor Day at all is a mystery to me.  Unlike all the other holidays, what the heck was being commemorated with this day?  I remember asking the question of my mother.  Just what is Labor Day?  She went for a response that was definitely feminine-skewed.

"It honors all those pregnant women who have labor pains before giving birth."

Huh?   So, it's a day where women go into labor.

"I guess."

The logic escaped me.  How long could labor be?  I was born in February.

"You ask too many questions."

There I go again.

Now, the mere mention of the first Monday of September would send chills up and down a kid's spine.  After all, in many other subtle ways, we were lamenting the end of summer.

We'd notice that it was a little bit harder to see the ball in our nightly softball contest down at the local lot.

We'd discover that there was more of a chill in the air at night as we would sit on somebody's front stoop yakking up the day's events.

And, while the Good Humor truck was still showing up promptly at 8:47PM each evening, that strawberry sundae on a stick you had been eating in twilight was now being consumed in complete darkness.

It was all so ominous.

We were headed back to school.

And Labor Day was the last straw we had.  For me, school usually began the Wednesday or Thursday afterward.  I'd immediately pull down a calendar to find my first days off.  Since the Mount Vernon, New York public school system was jampacked with Jewish teachers, we'd always get Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur off.  Sometimes, these days would happen as soon as school started.  Bonus days of summer.  My only problem with this concept was that all my friends in the neighborhood went to Catholic school.  I'd have the days off but had little to do but watch the Hollywood Squares with my grandmother.

When Labor Day weekend rolled around, this meant another complete horror for yours truly.  The annual quest for new school clothes.  And I was dragged to Genung's Department Store on Fourth Avenue by my mother.

Now, my mom was always very fashion conscious.  When it came to herself.  But, the outfits she'd suggest for me were, well, odd.   Oh, I was always completely color-coordinated.  But, then again, so was Superfly.

Mom, don't you think this shirt is a little bright?

"Well, you'll be easier to find after school after they turn the clocks back."

I could be easily seen from down the block and perhaps even Venus.

As I got older, the annual Genung's battle got more heated as I began to assert more and more power into my own clothing choice.  No, I don't like cuffs.  No, I don't want to wear a clip-on bowtie.  And white belts are for country clubs in Ohio.

Eventually, Mom gave up.  As all mothers do.

One more signal to the end of summer would be the television commercials on Channel 5 Metromedia in New York heralding the arrival of...

The Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon for Muscular Dystrophy.

Back in the day, the Jerry Lewis Telethon was done in New York, as I'm not sure Las Vegas had been invented yet.  And we watched it for all the wrong reasons.  Not because we were devoted to the charity.  Nope, we tuned it because it had all the promise of horrible television with heavy doses of schmaltz blended in.

Would Jerry make his monetary goal as predicted by co-host Ed McMahon in between swigs of some Budweiser?   Could Jerry possibly get through 21 hours on the air without a nap?  Would he break down and sob during his closing number, the ridiculously inappropriate "You'll Never Walk Alone?" 

You knew that, every year, it would be a car crash.  You just had to tune in for the exact moment of impact.

We used to watch along and my mom viewed it all with disdain.  You see, she was no fan of Jerry Lewis.  When I was a kid, his movies dominated the local cinemas and we were his target age group.  My mother wanted nothing to do with taking me to see his latest trash.  That job usually fell to my dad, who would conventiently doze off one reel into "The Errand Boy."

But, then, one Labor Day, there was a miracle...

My mom had just started a job in downtown Manhattan at an accounting firm, which just happened to be the official auditors for Muscular Dystrophy.  One year, she was asked to be part of the accounting staff to work at the telethon.

When she came home, I craved for details.  It's so bad on the screen.  Just how awful is it backstage?

A curveball flew out of my mother's mouth.

"That Jerry Lewis is quite a guy."

Huh?

"He is so devoted to those children.  It's like they're part of his own family."

Say what?

"There's a secret reason why he does this telethon, but he will only tell everybody after there is a cure."

Okay, just what was flowing from those water fountains down at the TV studio?

My mother had been transformed into a Jerry Lewis zealot.  In subsequent years, she watched the telethon with a different fervor.  I couldn't watch it with her again.  Instead, I had to hide in my bedroom with it shining from my black and white portable television.  I could easily giggle with the door closed.

And, for me, Labor Day just never was the same after that.

Dinner last night:  BLT sandwich at Blue Plate.

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - September 2011

Charlie says...

Dinner last night:  Turkey burger at GO Burger.

More Mugs Than There Are in Heaven

Right out of bed and into a jail cell.

With her ass in jail, where will her family hang up their washcloths?

The first time I've ever seen hair do snow angels.

The one call she can make from jail should be to whoever can show up with her bottom dentures.

She should be out in time to greet the 45th President of the United States.

And she'll be soon united with her prison matron.

Somehow I don't think you can fix this with a squirt of Bactine.

The real criminal here is whoever did her mascara at Walmart.

Got cell?

This guy really got plastered.

Oops, there goes another vote.

Dinner last night:  Had a big lunch with my good friend Amir and her cute little daughter Ella, so I just had a salad.

Something From Nothing

Last Friday night, Dodger broadcaster Vin Scully came out of left field (or really a corner of his play-by-play booth at Dodger Stadium) and announced that he will once again return for "at least" one more year behind the microphone at Chavez Ravine.  That, my friends, is always welcome news and I will never ever bury that headline.

Unlike the Los Angeles Times, who have once again stooped to the lowest level of journalism possible.  In their seemingly undying quest to bash all things Dodger blue, this "newspaper" hung the Dodgers' beloved Scully out to dry.  They perpetuated an issue where there was none.  They threw gasoline on a smoldering matchstick.  They exposed themselves one more time as a horrible excuse for a news source in a major metropolitan area.

Lucy, I'll 'splain.

It starts as do most controversies swirling around the Dodgers and their beat reporters with Los Angeles Times "sports columnist" T.J. Simers.  This is a guy who would be hard-pressed to cover water polo for the Bumfuk, Iowa High School newspaper.  Yet, here he is, trolling around the sports franchises of the second largest media market in America. 

Simers, who would need a significant upgrade just to rise to "idiot" status, fancies himself as not only a sports writer but a comedy scribe as well.  He frequently starts with some crazy joke and works backwards in order to come up with the facts that would allow him to close his bowel movement of prose with that very punchline.  Indeed, when it comes to Simers' columns, even dead fish are refusing to be wrapped up in those newspaper pages.

Now, regular readers here know that I am no ardent fan of Dodger owner Frank McCourt.  I want him run back to the sewers of Boston just like the next guy.  T.J. Simers, however, joins the rest of the hacks also known as the Los Angeles Times sport department, in taking this quest to almost maniacal extremes.  If there is bad news to report about the team, Simers and the other knuckleheads passing as Times correspondents will do so with zeal.  After all, when it comes to bad stuff happening, it's either Frank McCourt's fault.  Unless, of course, if it's not the fault of George W. Bush.  And, in the worst example of shoddy reporting, they will craft stories around e-mails they get from disgruntled fans and treat them like they are etched on a third tablet from Moses.

So, last week, Simers gets a communication from some irate season ticket holder who has been approached by the Dodgers to participate in a survey.  Hey, as a fellow season subscriber, I've gotten similar invitations in the past.  No big whoop.  Except, according to this guy, this particular survey is asking questions about the capability of every one on the Dodger broadcast team.  How could they?  Is Vin Scully under the microphone?  That Frank McCourt!  What an asshole!

Simers gets this e-mail and is once again first in line to yell "fire" in a semi-crowded baseball stadium.  Like Mrs. O'Leary's cow, he fans the flames all the way to Chicago.  The Dodgers are idiots.  They are obviously wondering if Scully should be invited back.  They are perhaps scrimping on dollars again.  Oh, the humanity!

Forget the fact that Vin Scully has been told by management that he has a lifetime deal to broadcast the Dodgers for as long as he wants.  The only guy in the world with better job security than the Pope.  And, forget the notion that Simers, unlike yours truly, has no knowledge whatsoever on the topic of market research.  And survey design.

You see, when I read his story about the Dodgers doing a perception study on its broadcast crew, my immediate reaction was they were looking to make a change with their TV crew that does the games when Vin is not working.  Their road TV announcer Eric Collins is horrific and might actually give you aural cancer.  I read the column and I silently thank God.   Eric Collins may not be long for the Dodger play-by-play world.

From years of experience with this sort of research, I know that, when designing a perceptual study, you need to create benchmarks for all levels of performance.  And the only way you can do that is by surveying all possible candidates.  And that, of course, would include Vin Scully.  This, my friends, is basic Market Research Survey Design 101.

But, Simers takes the leap and incites a printed riot.  I decide to help the schmuck out.  I'd e-mail him and let him know the basics of perceptual study design.

"Dear TJ, you were unfortunately a little off-kilter on your story today.  I have been involved in market research.  When a research company develops a survey, they have to methodologically include ALL possible examples in order to establish a benchmark.  My guess is that they need to get a reading on Vin Scully not because he is under the microscope.  They are likely trying to get a comparison to use in judging their other announcers.  This is pretty standard operating proceudre in market research."

I figured I'd get a thank you.  Maybe even a form of a retraction in a subsequent column.

Instead, I get this from T.J..

"Sorry, no reason to subject him to such a thing_they already havew a reads on him_he's the best"

I typed that just as I received it.

Exactly.  You can make your own call on Simers' jornalistic competence.  And his ability to type a note correctly.

Basically, T.J. wanted nothing to do with my logic.  And the facts.

Two days later, Vin Scully surprises the city of Los Angeles as he simply and humbly announces his decision to return for the 2012 baseball season.  This is class personified.  As only he can.


So, you read it plainly in Vin's own words.  He came to his decision with some soul searching.  And some praying to God.  Got that?

The very next day, the Los Angeles Times sports department mis-directs the message one more time.  This one comes from Dodger beat writer Dylan Hernandez who is also not in danger of winning a Pulitzer Prize any time soon.  His headline on the story?

"Scully Gets OK to Return for 2012 Season."

Uh-huh.  An okay to return.  From whom?  If you simply had followed Simers' column and not seen Vin's on-the-air message, you would be led to believe that the Dodgers had cleared him.  Maybe Frank McCourt had figured out how to pay him.   Whatever the case, from the Times' headline, Scully had been cleared.

You had to read deeply into the story to get the headline explained.  It was God giving Scully the okay.

But, that wasn't enough of a story for the Los Angeles Times.  Nope, they needed to give us a bushel full of bad news when all we needed to do is appreciate the kernel of good news.

And our media waters get muddied one more time.

Dinner last night:  Leftover antipasto pasta salad.