Monday Morning Video Laugh - March 8, 2010

I don't make this shit up. While you don't see any of the fight, my theater of the mind is imagining it all just fine.

Dinner last night: Taboulli pasta salad.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - My Childhood Church

It's the Lenten season and that's a mandate for self reflection. So, I'll join in here on the next few Sundays. Self reflecting.
All about my childhood church which is pictured above in its current condition.
St. Peter's Evangelical Lutheran Church on East 219th Street in the Bronx. Still there, although now there is the recent addition of a fellowship hall to the building's right. Remarkably, the main portion of the church looks the same as it did when I first walked through its doors when I was around four or five.
Actually, I was in there a little sooner than that. I was baptized there at the age of four months. Despite my usually astute photographic memory, I recall little about that day. I am guessing my parents were in attendance, although I would not be shocked if my mother stayed home with one of her sinus headaches. And I'm pretty sure the sprinkling of the water would have freaked me out. But, I figure this was one of those mega-family events that dragged out from the woodwork every distant relative or friend. After all, there was the post-christening promise of good food and even better booze.
It was fitting that my family was there in this church on that day because pretty much everybody in our tribe attended St. Peter's. In European countries around the turn of the 20th century, the village church was the fulcrum of all activity. Everybody was the cousin of somebody else. Or married to the cousin of somebody else. And all social activities centered around whichever steeple dominated the center of town.
Those traditions followed these folks when they migrated to the United States. My grandparents and their compatriots all came from Germany and landed within a ten block radius. The center of the circle? St. Peter's. And, from everything my grandmother told me, pretty much everything they did for fun back when had some direct or remote connection to the church. Dances, parties, weddings, funerals. My family alone probably managed to keep the place open 24/7.
Now, of course, Grandma's recollections to me about the church needed to be taken with several grains of salt. Or a whole container of Morton's Salt. Maybe even Lot's wife herself. Because, as I remember her stories, I have been able to now poke some holes into the plotline.
Grandma told me that our family helped to construct the church. I bought that hook, line, and sinker. Except my recent Internet research tells me the church was built in 1894, a good 10 to 15 years before my grandparents got off whatever boat they came over on. There were some other urban legends as well. When I heard that Jesus himself had gone to the hardware store with my grandfather to pick up some nails, I knew that Grandma's memory had become a little fuzzy.
But, the story she told about the gala party held to celebrate the burning of the church mortgage is valid. It is mentioned prominently still on the church's current website. This happened around 1944, smack in the middle of World War II. Grandma was also right about how devastating that war was for our church. Of the total congregation, there were almost seventy people who served overseas in the conflict. Indeed, there were five who did not come back. Grandma's son, my uncle and the person I was named after, was one of them.
I've recently gone through some of my parents' wedding photos and all of them show off St. Peter's Church in glorious black and white. Probably fitting that they were not in color since my mother had experienced a nasty sunburn that day. To get a healthy tan for the wedding, she had gone to an apartment rooftop, "Tar Beach," the day before. And promptly fell asleep. Still, the wedding photos of them exiting St. Peter's are still fun to look at.
Because, in retrospect, I don't remember seeing them at church very much when I was around.
While the church was a great part of my family's socializing early on, it became inexplicably less so once the next generation was born. Oh, the kids had to go to church. There was no hearing our argument otherwise. But, my parents, my aunts, and uncles seemed to get a hall pass on the in-person worship. From time to time, I would ask my mother why she didn't go to church.
"It's a long story."
I'd ask my father.
"It's a long story."
What had happened? I didn't understand. Grandma and Grandpa were still going. There was a conveniently scheduled German-spoken service every Sunday after the English worship. I asked Grandma why my parents didn't go to church.
"Go ask them."
Er, I did. It's apparently a long story.
And a mystery that was never ever solved for me.
But, dutifully, my dad would drive me there every week while I went to Sunday school, which began for me as soon as I entered kindergarten.
And sit in the car outside reading the Sunday funnies.
To be continued...
Dinner last night: Bacon turkey burger at Magnolia.

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - March 2010

I love the way the sponsors used to work their product into these TV shows. Meanwhile, Bea Benaderet died of lung cancer several years after this.

Dinner last night: Hot dog.

My Oscar Pix for 2009

No, this isn't an old blog post. These really are the Oscars for 2009. The awards this Sunday night are from the movies from last year. I actually get angry when I hear them talking about the ceremony as "Oscar 2010." Get it right. End of tantrum. Meanwhile, I'll confuse you even further by posting a photo from the Oscars circa 1960.

Here we go, folks. You know that I'm in an annual pool with my NY friends, Lorraine and Dennis. We start the process by predicting the nominees in all the major categories. Heading into the awards, I have already amassed 32 points. Lorraine has 30. Dennis has 29.5. Yes, a half point. No, that's not a vote for Mickey Rooney. Dennis correctly picked Stanley Tucci's nomination, but for the wrong film.

Now, we prognosticate on the winners. Here are my picks. The only thing that I am really sure about is that, by Monday morning, I will probably hate Alec Baldwin even more than I do right now.

We don't mess around here at Len Speaks. I'm heading right to the Big Kahuna of Awards.

Best Picture: Big friggin' deal. They nominated ten movies this year. There are really only two in the running. Avatar and The Hurt Locker. I am sincerely hoping that people finally get over the video game magic exhibited by James Cameron's over-imagination. There was absolutely no story there. None, zilch, nada. I am betting now that Hollywood once again will continue its cycle of awarding a movie about war and its aftermath. Indeed, another battle-related Best Picture is long overdue. Think about it. 1929: All Quiet on the Western Front. 1942: Mrs. Miniver. 1946: The Best Years of our Lives. 1953: From Here to Eternity. 1957: Bridge on the River Kwai. 1970: Patton. 1978: The Deer Hunter. 1986: Platoon. You see what I mean? It's time. The winner will be THE HURT LOCKER.

Best Actor: As much as I would like to see George Clooney get it for his wonderfully shaded performance in Up in the Air, there is no way that Hollywood misses this opportunity to give a career Oscar to JEFF BRIDGES.

Best Actress: Despite what you hear, I understand this is probably the only acting award that is not a lock. The buzz is that there is a late surge for Meryl Streep's turn as Julia Child in Julie & Julia. That would be my own personal pick. But, still, there seems to be this inexplicable desire to honor Sandra Bullock who, for the first time in her career, starred in a movie that did not co-star either Ryan Reynolds, Matthew McConaughey, or some other vapid himbo wandering around the studio commissary. It's almost as if they feel sorry for her. Alas, alack, the winner will be SANDRA BULLOCK.

Best Supporting Actor: Villainous roles tend to win Oscars for supporting actors. Villainous Nazi roles are a slamdunk. So,, it's the most "no contest" of all "no contest" categories. Frankly, I thought CHRISTOPH WALTZ was way over the top in the grossly overrated "Inglourious Basterds." I felt like I was watching Charles Nelson Reilly in "The Diary of Anne Frank." But, he is a lock and I'm only hoping that, during his acceptance speech, he will explain to us all what happened to the other two letters in his first name.

Best Supporting Actress: Repeating the previous announcement. Villainous roles tend to win Oscars for supporting actors. Next to villainous Nazis, angry Black women are a slamdunk. It's really hard to believe that Sunday's winner, MO'NIQUE, used to be on a crappy UPN sitcom. She gets the award for throwing a TV set at Precious. That also might earn her a prime slot on the next wrestling card from the WWF. Perhaps, during her acceptance speech, she will explain to us what's behind that apostrophe in her first name. Expect her to thank everybody from Barack Obama to Harriet Tubman. Meanwhile, when Hattie McDaniel won the same award in 1940, she very eloquently and simply said thank you and exited through the Cocoanut Grove kitchen.

Best Director: This never ever deviates from the winner of the Director's Guild Award. KATHRYN BIGELOW won that for The Hurt Locker. If you're still stuck on who gets this Oscar, please call the dot connecting department ASAP.

Best Original Screenplay: Okay, now the categories get a little tougher to call. Quentin Tarantino is perceived as an expert wordsmith so his horribly protracted scenes of dialogue in Inglourious Basterds could fool the Academy for their alleged cleverness. But the shithead didn't win the Writer's Guild trophy, so I'm guessing there is a groundswell for MARK BOAL and his script for THE HURT LOCKER.

Best Adapted Screenplay: Finally, my favorite film of 2009 gets a bone. Or so I hope. JASON REITMAN and SHELDON TURNER for UP IN THE AIR.

Best Animated Feature: Of the nominees, I saw the creepy 3-D laden Coraline and the post-movie headache is still pestering me. The only other nominee I saw was Up and it was my second favorite film of 2009. The first 15 minutes provided one of the best sequences ever captured on any film. My thumb and pick is way UP.

Best Art Direction: Here's where some of the guessing starts. This year, the category should be retitled Best Use of a Green Screen. Since this is one of the areas that reviewers gushed over when it opened, my guess is that AVATAR goes home with this piece of gold.

Best Cinematography: Usually this Oscar goes hand-in-hand with the Director's Oscar. So, if you have been paying attention.......THE HURT LOCKER.

Best Costume Design: Len's Oscar rule-of-thumb for this award? Always go with the movie that features some facet of British royalty. I saw none of the nominees, but I am thinking that THE YOUNG VICTORIA qualifies.

Best Documentary Feature: I saw only one of the nominees. Food, Inc., which was all about how horrible food processing is in this country. Not a good idea when you've ordered a hot dog to eat during the film. But, I digress. This year, there doesn't seem to be any documentary devoted to the Holocaust, which is always a lock. But, global non-warming is in. THE COVE is about the killing of dolphins. That's close enough for me. Of course, several years from now, we will find out that this documentary is a fraud just like Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth. The dolphins are not being killed. They are really committing suicide.

Best Documentary Short: My fellow Oscar poolers, Lorraine and Dennis, make a point of going to see the short films in the hopes that the intel will give them a leg up. I say it makes no difference. Once again, look for the one with the Jews and the Holocaust. Hmm, this year? None. There is one devoted to the closing of a GM plant. Now, that's timely and may get some votes. But, most of the Academy members drive luxury foreign cars, so I doubt they care. Okay, MUSIC BY PRUDENCE is about a disabled singer in Zimbabwe. Handicapped and Black??? Wow, talk about stacking the deck. There's your winner. I think.

Best Film Editing: Of all the nominees, the editing played the biggest part in creating all the tension that was the hallmark of THE HURT LOCKER.

Best Foreign Language Film: Well, I saw the White Ribbon and wrote about it here several weeks ago. There is also buzz for France's The Prophet and Israel's Ajami. Only because it was the one I actually attended, I will pick THE WHITE RIBBON. And I am hoping that, in the acceptance speech, the producer explains to me the ending of the movie.

Best Make-up: Hopefully, they will give it to STAR TREK and my Oscar pool selections live long and prosper.

Best Original Score: Avatar is nominated? There was music in that? That's how unimpressed I was with the whole film. I do remember some of the stuff from UP. Disney animation always seems to do in this category.

Best Original Song: I know Randy Newman did those two nominated tunes from The Princess and the Frog, but that wasn't enough reason for me to go see that ghetto-ized Disney cartoon. The only song I remember is the one nominated from CRAZY HEART. "THE WEARY KIND." I couldn't hum it now if I tried, but what the hell, I'll pick it here. Frankly, ever since "Moon River," this category has gone completely downhill.

Best Animated Short: Again, I think Lorraine and Dennis go see this shit. They are the only two in the country who do. I always pick this one by the most interesting title. The winner will be A MATTER OF LOAF AND DEATH, whatever the hell that is.

Best Live-Action Short: No clue, no clue, no clue. I say the winner will be THE NEW TENANTS. Why? No clue, no clue, no clue.

Best Sound Editing: AVATAR. Just so we can keep James Cameron's big bazoo shut.

Best Sound Mixing: AVATAR. Just so we can keep James Cameron's big bazoo shut even longer.

Best Visual Effects: Yeah, okay, AVATAR. Cameron, I've given you four Oscars. Are you friggin' satisfied?

Good luck to all of you in the pools you swim in. There will be an Oscar follow-up on Tuesday as we check in with our old friends, Saul and Hesse, at Nate N Al's in Beverly Hills.

Dinner last night: Roast beef sandwich from Clementine's.

And The Stimulus Money Goes To....

Even I can get tired coming up with funny stuff for this blog on a daily basis. Today, I'm going to outsource the humor.

Here are some real-life factoids on where your tax dollars have been going, courtesy of the stimulus plan. Be aware that federal agencies are right now spending stimulus bucks at the rate of $196 million per hour. Even my mother couldn't match that pace.

The lucky recipients of your hard-earned dough are:

$233,000 to the University of California at San Diego to study why Africans vote. The number of jobs created? Twelve, but seven of those are Africans living in Africa.

$2 million in Nevada to build a new fire station. Except, because of budget cuts, the county involved can't afford to hire firefighters to work there.

Penn State University got $1.5 million to study plant fossils in Argentina. Of five jobs created, 2 belongs to Argentines.

Researchers at SUNY-Buffalo got $389,000 to pay 100 Buffalo residents $45 each to record how much malt liquor they drink and how much pot they smoke each day.

The White House has authorized $5 billion to weatherize homes. But one Texas county spent $4 million to weatherize just 47 homes. That's $78,000 per house. Each retrofit is supposed to save homeowners $500 a year in energy costs. That mean taxpayers will recoup their investment in just 156 years.

Two Arizona universities got almost one million dollars for three grad students to study how ants work. That's more than $300,000 per grad student.

Companies that raise tropical fish, shellfish, catfish, alligators and turtles can qualify for $50 million in tax money to buy fish food.

North Carolina public schools received $4.4 million to hire math and literacy coaches. Not for students, but for the teachers. That's 64 people paid $70,000 each to teach teachers how to teach reading and math.

There's some tourist device called the Napa Valley Wine Train. The county received $54 million to build a railroad bridge, relocated a half-mile of track, and build a flood wall to protect a wine train passenger station. The no-bid contract went to a minority-owned business operated by an Eskimo tribe outside Anchorage. But, wait, there's more. The company then hired a real constuction company for a fraction of what they were paid by the government to actually do the work. But, wait, there's even more. The tribe's CEO has no construction experience. His last business, a website for sailors, went bankrupt after spending $13 million in investor money.

Six million dollars of stimulus money went to a California contractor who happens to be under federal investigation for overcharging the city of San Diego during the cleanup after the 2007 wildfires.

A Denver developer received $13 million in tax credits to help build a senior housing complex despite being sued as a slumlord for running decrepit, rodent-infested apartment buildings in San Francisco.

Kentucky gave $24 million to a contractor on trial for bribery.

An aerospace company received $15 million to monitor water quality in a Ventura County creek it was already fined for polluting.

Gee, this just may be the funniest stuff I have ever posted in this blog.

Dinner last night: German salami sandwich and tomato soup.

Two Pack a Wednesday

The President of the United States smokes. Do you?

---So, Obummer has yet to kick the filthy habit. Or so said the report of his recent annual physical.

---It's tough to quit those things with a normal job. Can you imagine how hard it is if you have to worry about Joe Biden every day?

---A couple of weeks ago, there was a shot of the dumbbell Vice President sporting some ashes for the Lenten observance.

---I just figured that Michelle had come into the room and Barry needed a place to put out the ciggie fast.

---If you can't use the Vice President's forehead for an ashtray, what good is he?

---So just how does the President get his cigarettes? Does he buy them by the carton? Or is there a junior Secret Service agent who has to make a daily run to a Kwiki-Mart?

---Are nicotine patches contained in the health care bill? The President is checking it right now.

---Hey, any reason to get him to read the damn thing is fine by me.

---Meanwhile, Urkel's physical also contained the following note from his doctor: Try to drink in moderation.

---Now, everybody is jumping to conclusions that this means the President is a drunkard. But, frankly that's a standard note that any physician will give you.

---When did you ever hear a doctor tell you that you're not getting enough alcohol?

---Of course, it's fun to think about. Obummer stumbling around the White House late at night in a vodka haze.

---Hey, it could happen. It could be in the genes. His old man was a drunken slob.

---"Hey, where's my red phone??? And who the fuck has the key to the liquor cabinet????"

---Now I'm dying to know how many Presidents have been snockered in the White House. And Nixon doesn't count.

---We all know that there have been some First Ladies who tippled. Mamie Eisenhower, for instance. Although they blamed the lack of balance on inner ear issues.

---Pat Nixon. Who could blame her?

---Barbara Bush was also a little loopy but I think that was more because of all the hair spray.

---Speaking of wifes, that addled moron Harry Reid said that the rising level of unemployment has provoked more men to participate in domestic violence.

---Which means it will truly suck to be Mrs. Harry Reid come election time in November.

---I am happy to announce this week's inductions into the hallowed Black Fuck-Up Hall of Fame.

---NY Governor David Paterson who has so much dirty laundry that he announced he won't run for re-election.

---He obviously felt the handwriting on the wall.

---And then they finally nailed some shit on that old bastard from New York, Charles Rangel, who's been trolling the House chambers ever since Moms Mabley had her own teeth.

---Rounding up all the crooked Black politicians, I can only think of Roy Scheider's famous line from "Jaws."

---"We're going to need a bigger boat."

---You think I'm kidding? Look at what happened in Chile after that earthquake last week. Sure, there was some looting, etc.. But, by and large, they didn't suffer half the calamity that Haiti did.

---Take a look at the people in charge of that country. Then, take a look at the assholes who run Haiti.

---The answer is as plain as the difference between black and white.

---Ahem.

---Sadly, I got sucked in at the end. I almost made it through the entire Winter Olympics without watching a single second. Until the last five minutes and the overtime of the hockey game for the gold medal.

---I am so mad at myself.

---Meanwhile, on Facebook during that last game, I saw one after another commenting on the latest play. Regaling in hockey.

---Five seconds after USA lost, none of these folks could tell you a single thing about the sport that only about 40,000 Americans give a shit about anyway.

---Big deal,Canada! You rejoice in hockey. We have more affordable co-pays.

---And tell your prime minister that his American doctor's invoice is in the mail.

---What the hell is a maple leaf anyway?

Dinner last night: Chicken Piccata.

The Sandy and Joe Show

The 2010 baseball season started for me in earnest on Saturday, February 26 at the Nokia Theater in the pretty nifty LA Live complex downtown. A truly special evening with two baseball legends. And me. In the loge section just like I was back in Dodger Stadium. Or even Shea.

Sandy Koufax was back.

This extraordinary event was a benefit for Joe Torre's Safe at Home Foundation, which has been devoted to helping kids who live in homes where domestic violence and abuse is present. Up to this point, Torre's pet project was New York-centric, but they recently opened up a branch here in Los Angeles. And what's a good way to get a bundle of money donated by a lot of Dodger fans? Let them have their first audience in 45 years with perhaps the greatest pitcher of all time. And he did his superlative work on a mound just five miles to the north of the Nokia.

Yep, Sandy Koufax was back.

Prior to the show, I noted an interesting phenomenon as I enjoyed my pre-event meal at Wolfgang Schmuck's Grill just adjacent to the theater. All around the restaurant and the adjoining plaza, the attendees all looked the same. Usually dressed in some apparel of Dodger blue, the audience composition was pretty consistent. A middle-aged guy accompanied by a much older man, sometimes using a walker or a cane. This was one more rite of passage playing out before me. Dad might have taken his son to see Sandy pitch in the Chavez Ravine sun. Now, the son was taking Dad to see Sandy perhaps one last time in the LA Live moonlight. Indeed, Koufax' public appearances are almost as rare as Haley's Comet. One after another, I saw a son returning a favor to his father. I thought of my own dad and the baseball players he might have wanted to see one more time.

Inside the classy Nokia Theater, pre-show festivities set the stage. Clips from each year of Koufax's magical career were projected on a big screen and narrated by Dodger announcer Charlie Steiner. Since this is LA Dodger baseball, celebrities routinely milled around. The inventor of Yankee Baseball fandom and Joe Torre's personal baggage handler Billy Crystal. Old Dodgers like Tommy Davis and Lou Johnson. Dodger fans like Ron Howard and Jon Lovitz. One row over were siblings Penny and Garry Marshall. For once, I didn't run into Garry in the bathroom. Meanwhile, vendors walked around selling hot dogs and beer as if it was the Left Field Pavillion on a warm July afternoon. Scorecards were not needed. There were only two players to concern ourselves with on this night.

Yep, Sandy Koufax was back. And Joe Torre had delivered him to our doorstep.

The standing ovations that greeted these two was sustained and filled with warmth. The ninety minute talk was moderated by LA Times sports columnist, TJ Simers, the writer you love to hate. TJ is smarmy, impolite, and the equivalent of a New York cab driver with a microphone. He referred to his guests only by their last name.

"So, Koufax, nobody's seen you for 45 years. When you left the game, where did you go?"

Sandy was in the first moments of his evening's warm-ups. His response was short and sweet.

"I went home."

Sandy, admittedly a quiet and reserved guy, needed to be drawn out early on. He seemed a little uncomfortable at first, especially with the jabbing queries from Simers. Here is where Joe Torre stepped in to do what he does best. Calming the waters. Joe started to interject some questions himself to Sandy, often tapping his arm or putting his hand on the lefty's shoulder. It was almost as if Torre was trying to help a rookie reliever through an eighth inning jam. The Dodger manager was nothing short of masterful as if he brought Sandy out of his shell. Once that happened, the stories flowed like fine wine. Or maybe Ballantine or Rheingold Beer. Before I knew it, the audience and I were enraptured by their tales. And I learned some remarkable things that I never knew before.

---For instance, Koufax is barely a recluse. He ticked off all the places he can found on a regular basis. Most golf tournaments. The Final Four. Most Super Bowls. Met training camp. Dodger training camp. Dinner. The movies. Sandy was pretty straight forward. "I leave the house."

---Koufax readily admitted to throwing at Lou Brock after the Cardinal bunted a ball past him and seemed to be laughing at the pitcher while he was standing on first base.

---Sandy's arm problems started not from throwing but as a result of a 1964 baserunning slide when he landed on his elbow.

---I did not realize that the same batter made the last out in two of Koufax' no-hitters. Harvey Kuenn.

---Vin Scully pre-taped a recollection of Sandy's perfect game vs. the Cubs in September, 1965. It was the only time that the announcer thought the pitcher could throw a no-hitter just by watching him pitch in the first inning. Indeed, as the game wound into the eighth and ninth inning, Scully started to obsess over how he could make his broadcast perfect for Sandy if Koufax was to listen to a tape thirty years later. So, for the last out, Vin punctuated the moment by adding the time. "It's 9:46 in the City of Angels..." And hedged in time for the ages.

---Introduced in seats side-by-side were the two players that participated in the lone run scored in that perfect game. Dodger Lou Johnson who scored it and Cub catcher Chris Krug whose error allowed Johnson to cross the plate.

---Later on, Scully was prompted for a Torre memory, which he started to describe from a Milwaukee Braves games. Then, Vin stopped himself, "No, wait, that wasn't Joe. That was his brother Frank." Of course, he then winked at the camera.

---When asked about the famous Juan Marichal-John Roseboro bat wielding incident, Koufax pleaded the fifth. Only Juan and John know what happened that day.

---Regarding the dual salary holdout by Koufax and Drysdale prior to the 1966 season, Sandy admitted that the main reason he did it was because he knew that he only had one year of his career left. He wanted to lend support to Drysdale because Don certainly had a lot more years ahead of him to make some serious dough.

---During the last two seasons of his baseball life, Koufax woke every morning with no feeling in his left arm. It was as if his arm was not attached to his body.

---Sandy was asked about his "friendship" with Larry King. You may know that Larry portrays them as the best of buds from their high school days in Brooklyn. King goes as far as describes a time where he and Sandy enjoyed ice cream at a New Haven Carvel stand. But, Koufax set the record straight. "I've never been in New Haven." Sandy mentioned that he even called Larry to tell him he should stop telling all these stories. That didn't work. "You see what good that did."

---Even Torre go into the act with the fun. When asked for a Yogi Berra story, Joe related the tale when Berra was going to shoot that commercial for Aflac. Except, the night before, Yogi told Joe he was going to film an ad for Amtrak.

---Dodger manager-in-waiting Don Mattingly was in the front row and it was joked that he follows Torre around all the time in the event that Joe would slip and fall.

At one point, TJ Simers wanted to invite a kid up to the stage to get some pitching tips from the master. Simers pointed to some tall skinny guy in the front row. Of course, this was all staged and it turned out to be Koufax heir-apparent and current Dodger lefty phenom Clayton Kershaw. When they held up their left hands side-by-side, Sandy's fingers stretched out a full inch longer than Clayton's. Supposedly, the two of them flew back to Arizona together after the show. Hopefully, Kershaw and Koufax submitted to a brain transplant during the flight.

If not for Kershaw's curfew, the evening probably could have lasted several more hours. As Koufax and Torre exited, there was an even longer standing ovation. Sandy exited stage right. And who knows when we will see him again?

Nevertheless, as fathers and sons exited the Nokia, they beamed with the thought that they had watched Koufax together one last time. For each of them. And maybe even for Sandy.

It wasn't a complete game shutout, but the memory would be just as sweet.

Dinner last night: Spaghetti and meatballs.