Monday Morning Video Laugh - October 7, 2024

 We're honoring the legendary Marx Brothers this month.  Paging Dr. Hackenbush.

Dinner last night:  The pre-game Stadium Club buffet at Blue Heaven on Earth.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Len in the Broadcast Booth

 

This is a great vintage shot of the legendary Vin Scully.  He is still missed every single day.

This is the guy that taught baseball to Southern California when the Dodgers moved there in 1958.  The city would have been lost without Vin.

As for me 3000 miles away, I didn't know who he was.  Oh, sure, I probably knew he worked for the Dodgers.  But the only time I actually saw the guy was whenever he would host a TV game show.

Nope, my radio and TV links to baseball were the Mets broadcast crew.  Lindsey Nelson, Ralph Kiner, and Bob Murphy.

I probably spent more time listening to them than I did my own parents.  They were my connection to an obsession.  The Mets.  And, as I lived my young life, I often emulated them.  I wanted to be an announcer for this team.  How cool would that be?  Traveling with the team.  Seeing games every day for nothing.  No, actually getting paid to watch games.  At Shea Stadium where I wanted to move my bed.

When you're a kid and all baseball all the time, you start to sound like your team's announcers.   In my Yankee-centric neighborhood which was also mostly Italian, it was a natural to idolize Phil Rizzuto and his "Holy Cow."  Of course, I was a loner when it came to my guys in the broadcast booth.  So I had to repeat their speech patterns in my own way.

In those crazy baseball games I played all by myself in the backyard. 

In our yard, there was a brick staircase into my grandmother's kitchen.  We called it "the stoop."  The bricks served as my backstop against which I would throw my rubberball for strikes.  In my little world, there was much more to this all than the game I was concocting in my mind.  Nope, I needed all the pomp and circumstance that I would see at Shea Stadium.

First, in my best ten-year-old public address announcer's voice, I would announce the line-ups.  First, the opposition, then the Mets.  This would be following by my singing of "Meet the Mets."  It took me ten minutes to get through all this nonsense.

Once the game began, I'd throw my pitches.  One after another.  If I missed the brick stoop, I'd hit the house.  Quickly, a kitchen curtain would part and Grandma would peek outside.

All the while, there is my expert play-by-play.  Switching over from Lindsey Nelson's voice to Bob Murphy's traditional call for a "happy recap."

"Galen Cisco on the mound with two strikes to Willie Mays.  Ball one."

Another hit to the house.

"Ball two."

One right into my grandmother's rose garden.

"Ball three."

The self-involvement was so intense that I was exhausted quite quickly.  No game lasted more than two innings.  I couldn't talk anymore.  Or, sometimes, my game was cancelled due to...Grandma.  She had enough of my endless play-by-play rambling.  The kitchen window would open.

"Shaddap already."

Not a fan of any baseball announcer.

While pursuing traditional career paths throughout high school, I still fantasized a bit about being a baseball announcer.  I would often take a tape recorder into the living room when a Met game was on.  I turn down the sound and offer my own play-by-play.  I would yammer on incessantly.  After three innings or so, one of my parents was done.

"Shaddap already."

I couldn't win.

In high school, I became friends with another kid who had similar aspirations but was really working at his talent.  Obviously, nobody had told him to shut up.  He'd do pretend play-by-play for hockey games and was quite proficient at it.  He'd ultimately make a decent career out of it all.  But, back in those still-learning days, he wanted to go to the college where sports announcers, including Vin Scully, were born.

Fordham University and its WFUV-FM.  

It wasn't the only reason I opted to enroll there.  But the college radio station was an attraction, no doubt about it.  Of course, I followed my friend into those hallowed halls as a freshman.  And was startled to find there was a lot of me around.  Would-be sports announcers from all over the metropolitan area.   And, crap, they were all better at it than I was.

As inferior as I felt, most of them became good friends of mine.  

And I joined the WFUV Sports Department, which did the radio broadcasts for all the Fordham team games.  But, as I looked around and listened to them all, I knew I was sunk.  

I had left all my good work in the backyard with Grandma's stoop.

There was a lot involved in doing game broadcasts and not all of it was on the air.  Kids produced.  Kids handled half time interviews.  And, when there were Fordham football games, kids did the spotting.  That was my very first assignment.

What the hell is a spotter?

Well, you watch the plays as they unfold and then point to a roster sheet and let the announcer know who made the run and who made the tackle.

I was horrible at it.  The wrong guy always had the ball and was ultimately tackled by another wrong guy.  

I already had one foot out the press box door.  The good news is that I must have had a fun personality because the sports guys/my friends kept me around for comic relief.

In an interesting sidelight, hanging around the Fordham/WFUV broadcast booth did provide me with an amusing brush with greatness.  It was the Saturday that the late and famed Yankee public address announcer Bob Sheppard's path crossed directly with mine. 
 
Along with his duties at the Stadium for Yankee and Giant football games, Bob Sheppard was apparently a renowned speech professor. And one of his gigs was at St. John's University. This then morphed into Sheppard doing the PA at that school's football games. Okay, we're not talking the Big Ten here, folks. But, there he was. A booming voice covering every inch of a pretty chintzy football field.

Well, as luck would have it, Fordham was playing St. John's one crisp October Saturday afternoon. Perhaps 150 people were in attendance. Part of that throng was the WFUV-FM broadcast crew covering the game for Fordham. As I mentioned  earlier, my good humor always allowed to go along for the ride.  With a rather spotty career as a spotter, my entire purpose at this football game was to stand quietly and out-of-the-way in the back of the tiny press box. 

In the booth next to us sat Bob Sheppard calling the results of each football play.

Now, there was a kid by the name of Steve on the Fordham Ram football team with a very long and convoluted Polish last name. The good news is that this running back didn't get into the game very often. But, when he did, our WFUV announcers got his last name dead-on. Why? Because I was an insider. 

Steve and I had been in French together the year before and were even study partners, so we were "class friends." More importantly, it made me a complete and thorough expert in the pronunciation of his last name which I dutifully shared with my broadcast cohorts. Hell, I had to bring something to the party.

Around the fourth quarter that day, my language lesson buddy gets into the game at last. And even carries the ball for a couple of yards. Forward motion that is immediately reported over the loudspeaker by Mr. Sheppard.

"FORD-HAM FOUR YARD RUN BY STEVE........(totally butchered pronunciation of last name)."

Don't ask me why I did this. Perhaps I felt that I was the official spokesperson for this kid. But, that screw-up of his last name didn't sit well with me. I needed to step in. I yelled into Sheppard's booth the correct pronunciation. What the hell was I doing?

There was a ten second pause of eternal proportions. And then...

"COR-REC-TION. FORD-HAM FOUR YARD RUN BY STEVE...(totally correct pronunication of last name.)"

So there. 

If nothing else, my childhood work emulating Lindsey, Ralph, and Bob almost always involved the correct way to say the players' names.

Meanwhile, back at the microphone, I wasn't.  I was getting ready to call it a play-by-play career.  But, it was springtime and Fordham baseball season was upon us.   There were lots and lots of games to broadcast and the WFUV Sports Department worked hard to cover them all.  There were plenty of announcer spots open.  

I was picked to do the middle three innings of one game.

Audible scream.

I did my homework for this game as if my life depended upon it.  This was going to be the very earliest fulfillment of a bucket list item.  I studied the players and the stats.  I was going to be ready.

As I slid behind the play-by-play mike in the fourth inning, I thought about this momentous day in my life.  I was speechless.

Literally.

Mouth open.  No words came out.  And, in another attack of flop sweat, I suddenly discovered that I couldn't tell the difference between a fast ball and a curve ball.

It was the longest hour of my life.  As I finished up my stint, I believe you could hear the faint sound of applause all across the Bronx.

Yep, I was done.  At that very moment, I made the play-by-play call for myself.

"Well, maybe I should be a writer."

Years and years later, I got to be the charity participant for two straight years on post-game "Dodger Talk" when it was on KABC.  My first year's participation was so-so, but, by the next season, I was able to command a whole fifteen minute segment with the able assistance of the then-"Dodger Talk" guys Joe Block and Josh Suchon.  I made a contribution to the show and even sounded coherent.  

I also got to meet fellow WFUV-er Vin Scully and, of course, we talked about what we had in common. Later on, I was wandering around the press box during the seventh inning stretch when Vin walks around for his own limbering.  He saw me again and remembered my name.

"Hiya, Len."

Two hours later and I was still on the top of his mind.  But, then again, that's how you stay in one job for six plus decades.  As for me, I moved on to other hopes and aspirations.

The one hold-over from my career as a sports announcer.  I still remember how to pronounce Fordham running back Steve's last name.

Dinner last night:  Deli snacks at a party.

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - October 2024

 Well, it is Oktoberfest.   Let's promote a German beer.

Dinner last night:  Bourbon chicken from Panda Express.

The Mugs of October

 

Real hair, my Aunt Fanny!

Those Macy's Doorbuster sales can be violent.

Oh, my God!  John Candy is alive!  And they've arrested him!

Arrest the plastic surgeon and the hair stylist, too.

Well, blow me down.

I wonder what stage of transgendering he or she is in.

Yeah, my hair is real.   Whacha you wanna make of it?

It's the police photographer, not your dentist.

That ain't chocolate milk.

Mad Magazine's Alfred E. Neuman has a sister.

It's Funny Face Day at the local prison.

Maybe it's the Gotham City Jail.

Speaking of Batman, here's the Joker.

Dinner last night:  Cheese omelet.

Morons of the Month - October 2024

 

This is the second time I have used this now iconic photo that will go down in history.

Since then, there has been another attempt on Trump's life.   And there is still very little information on what happened in either incident.  In this day of over-details, we have very few...particularly about the background of the would-be assassins.  

Okay, folks, this is not a blog piece that will chastise you for voting one way or the other.  You can save that nonsense for social media.  Indeed, I have watched friendships end because of political affiliations.  Let's face it.  Elections in this country used to be so civilized.  Not any more.  Our once-great nation has such a bi-polarity for which there is no medication.

There is a hatred in this country that cuts right down the middle.   And, on our watch...the descendants of the so-called Greatest Generation...we now have a political change in our nation that just might end in violence.

You may have heard recently that it is very possible that Iran, not a fan of DJT, might be orchestrating this shooting attempts.   To that, I said it is very, very, very possible.

And I'll go a little further.  The hatred and fear of a Trump second presidency is so strong and palpable that they (the Democrats) could stoop to new lows in their quest for power.

Might that include murder?   Do you think that's impossible?

If so, you, cherished blog reader, are a moron.  

Ours is a country that has staged government takeovers and coups all over the globe.   We may have been justified in doing so, but we interfered nonetheless.  Heck, we just had a coup on our side of the pond recently.  Or are you really believing that story about Biden stepping out of the race all on his own?

Trust me, when it comes to these political shenanigans, there are equal perpetrators with both Ds and Rs following their names.  

Come on, folks.   We have already killed a US President in America.   Or are you really believing that story about Lee Harvey Oswald acting alone?

Wake up and smell the gun smoke.  If anything happens like that to alter this election, this country will have turned into a dark corner from which there is no return.   Sadly, we might be just mere steps away.

And it happened on our watch.   Taking the land our parents and grandparents fought so valiantly for in World War II and turned it to shit.

So, keep "unfollowing" Facebook friends who disagree with you.  Those actions, when magnified, have dire consequences.

Dinner last night:  Sausage and salad.

This Date in History - October 2

 

Happy birthday to Tony Soprano's favorite shrink, Lorraine Bracco.

1187:  SALADIN CAPTURES JERUSALEM AFTER 88 YEARS OF CRUSADER RULE.

Saladin?  Wasn't he the guy on "Have Gun, Will Travel?"

1535:  JACQUES CARTIER DISCOVERS THE AREA WHERE MONTREAL, QUEBEC IS LOCATED.

And opens a jewelry store.

1552:  CONQUEST OF KAZAN BY IVAN THE TERRIBLE.

Elia or Lainie?

1780:  JOHN ANDRE, BRITISH ARMY OFFICE OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, IS HANGED AS A SPY BY AMERICAN FORCES.

These days, we'd let him go free. And then give him his show on MSNBC.

1789:  GEORGE WASHINGTON SENDS THE PROPOSED CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENTS (BILL OF RIGHTS) TO THE STATES FOR RATIFICATION.

Back when our government actually worked.

1803:  POLITICIAN SAMUEL ADAMS DIES.

Loved his beer.

1835:  THE TEXAS REVOLUTION BEGINS WITH THE BATTLE OF GONZALES.

Adrian or Pancho?

1864: DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, UNION FORCES ATTACK SALTVILLE, VIRGINIA, BUT THEY ARE DEFEATED BY CONFEDERATE TROOPS.

In a peppered attack.

1889:  IN COLORADO, NICHOLAS CREEDE STRIKES IT RICH IN SILVER DURING THE LAST GREAT SILVER BOOM OF THE OLD WEST.

Although there were several mediocre silver booms later on.

1890:  COMEDIAN GROUCHO MARX IS BORN.

Swordfish.

1895:  COMEDIAN BUD ABBOTT IS BORN.

Costello was born in 1906, so, technically, Abbott's on first.

1919:  US PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON HAS A MAJOR STROKE.

Something Natalie Wood desperately needed years later.

1924:  THE GENEVA PROTOCOL IS ADOPTED AS A MEANS TO STRENGTHEN THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS.

The League of Nations?  No designated hitter, right?

1928:  ACTOR GEORGE MCFARLAND IS BORN.

It's Spanky!!!

1928:  OPUS DEI IS FOUNDED BY SAINT JOSEMARIA ESCRIVA.  

Four years after Doris Dei was founded.

1932:  BASEBALL STAR MAURY WILLS IS BORN.

Speaking of Doris Day....

1937:  LAWYER JOHNNIE COCHRAN IS BORN.

OJ Simpson celebrates this date every year.

1937:  DOMINICAN REPUBLIC STRONGMAN RAFAEL TRUJILLO ORDERS THE EXECUTION OF THE HAITIAN POPULATION, APPROXIMATELY 20,000 PEOPLE.

Meanwhile, several decades later, there were plenty of them left and all of them lived in my hometown of Mount Vernon, New York.

1938:  CRITIC REX REED IS BORN.

The man who has never liked a single movie ever.

1942:  OCEAN LINER RMS QUEEN MARY ACCIDENTALLY RAMS AND SINKS HER OWN ESCORT SHIP OFF THE COAST OF IRELAND.

"Hey, lady, watch where you're going!"

1945:  SINGER DON MCLEAN IS BORN.

The singer and writer of the song I detest most.  "American Pie."  Yeech!!!

1950:  PEANUTS BY CHARLES M. SCHULTZ IS FIRST PUBLISHED.

Welcome to you, Charlie Brown.

1951:  ROCK STAR STING IS BORN.

The first day he took a breath.

1954:  ACTRESS LORRAINE BRACCO IS BORN.

I always thought her voice was sexy.

1959:  THE TWILIGHT ZONE PREMIERES ON CBS TELEVISION.

The very first episode starred Earl Holliman.  For those of you still playing Trivial Pursuit.

1967:  THURGOOD MARSHALL IS SWORN IN AS SUPREME COURT JUSTICE OF THE US.

He was the first Black to do so.   For the rest of you still playing Trivial Pursuit.

1970:  A PLANE CARRYING THE WICHITA STATE FOOTBALL TEAM, ADMINISTRATORS, AND SUPPORTERS CRASHES IN COLORADO.

Okay, but what about the cheerleaders????

1973:  ACTOR PAUL HARTMAN DIES.

Emmett from "The Andy Griffith Show."

1979:  POPE JOHN PAUL II DENOUNCES ALL FORMS OF CONCENTRATION CAMPS AND TORTURE WHILE SPEAKING AT THE UN IN NEW YORK CITY.

So I guess he wasn't a fan of "Hogan's Heroes."

1985:  ACTOR ROCK HUDSON DIES OF AIDS.

He was gay????????

1994:  ACTRESS HARRIET NELSON DIES.

Outliving a son, but, then again, she didn't fly much.

1996:  AEROPERU FLIGHT 603 CRASHES INTO THE PACIFIC AFTER TAKEOFF FROM PERU.  70 ARE KILLED.

Another reason why Harriet wouldn't fly much when she was alive.

1998:  SINGER GENE AUTRY DIES.

Dare I even attempt a "riding off into the sunset" reference?  Wait, I just did.

2002:  THE BELTWAY SNIPER ATTACKS BEGIN AND THEY LAST THREE WEEKS.

Longer than some TV series on the OWN Network.

2005:  COMEDIAN NIPSEY RUSSELL DIES.

On this October's second day, here's the ground where Nipsey Russell will lay.

2017:  MUSICIAN TOM PETTY DIES.

Heartbreaker.

2022:  SACHEEN LITTLEFEATHER DIES.

She's the screwball Indian who accepted Brando's Oscar for the Godfather.

Dinner last night:   Smoked sausage.

Just How Old Am I?

 

It's the reliable joke.   Walk through any assisted living place and you'll hear two things coming out of each room's TV..."Wheel of Fortune" and the Andy Griffith-starring "Matlock."   Indeed, while not in a facility, both of my parents got hooked on these shows in their later years.

So, in the true spirit that every TV show can be rebooted, "Matlock" now has its renewed time in the sun.   This time, it's Kathy Bates in the title role as it is now standard for genders to be flipped.  Frankly, I was a wee bit curious as I always have liked Kathy Bates' work.   Also, while I was on the Paramount lot over the summer, we saw the crew setting up on the NY street for an exterior scene.

Hmmm.

Then I read that the pilot airing on regular over-the-air CBS got phenomenal ratings.

Hmmm again.

Since it also is running on Paramount Plus, I decided to climb into bed and let "Matlock" on my tablet lure me to sleep.

Except, at the show's end, I was wide awake.  And exhilarated by how good Episode One was.

Oh, this is the old series, but not.   Kathy Bates is channeling Andy Griffith, but not.  It's a standard courtroom drama, but not.

Indeed, the whole concept is turned upside down.   With a twist in the last five minutes that sets up the rest of the series.  Trust me.   I didn't see that coming.  Neither will you.

Okay, Mom and Dad, I'm hooked on the new "Matlock."  Just as you instructed me back in the 90s, don't call me while it's on.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.