The Post-Pessimist Association

My Christmas Gift (To Me)

2011-12-25T09:35:00.003-05:00

I don't know how I missed this for so long, but the ČTK -- the Czech press agency -- has a nice big chunk of its photo archive up on the web, going back to the earliest parts of the 20th century. So if you're like me, you're going to want to do a search on "hockey," go straight to page 5197, and start browsing backward. This is really fantastic stuff, if you're a giant nerd about old Czechoslovakian hockey. The photos are all watermarked, so I won't be wallpapering with them, but they're still great -- lots of pictures of ATK Praha and Tankista and Tatra Smichov and all those myth-shrouded clubs. There's even a shot with my main man Victor Lonsmin. Seriously, this will keep me entertained for weeks. Merry Christmas everyone!

Vacation Reading

2011-12-15T17:58:00.002-05:00

Struck me today: this will be the first year since I started tracking that I won't hit 50 books read. I'll trade that for having read "Infinite Jest," sure, but still: end of an era.

#39 -- "Bloodlands" by Timothy Snyder

#40 -- "Czechoslovakia Since World War II" by Tad Szulc

Snyder was a friend of Tony Judt, so of course I was all over this. I'm happy to say that "Bloodlands" lives up to that connection -- it's absolutely shattering and up there with "Postwar" and "Nixonland" in the pantheon of great history books I've read in the last few years. Snyder's subject is the unhappy fate of the lands trapped between Hitler's Germany and Stalin's Soviet Union (roughly Poland, Belarus, Ukraine, and the Baltics) and parts of it were enough to (seriously) give me nightmares. That shouldn't put you off, though. It's excellent.

Szulc's book is an old used bookstore find. There is a surprising lack of good works on the Prague Spring and the Soviet invasion -- this is one of the best, and it's pretty flawed. Some of that is unavoidable; it was published in 1971 and lacked a lot of material that came out later. But much could have been better; despite the title, you'd be forgiven for thinking not much happened between about 1950 and 1965. (There are also some basic errors, including (gasp) a hockey error.) It picks up considerably once it gets to the events of 1968, at which point it discovers the urgency the rest of the book lacks. In the absence of a "Twelve Days"-style retelling of the invasion, this may be about as good as it gets.

Colorado State of Mind

2011-12-14T09:01:00.002-05:00

Back in the homeland for a few days. I don't think the temperatures have crept above 40 since I arrived, so much of my oohing and ahhing over the state's natural beauty comes from the vantage point of my parents' couch rather than outdoors. My brain's a bit mushy, and I've already aborted two would-be posts (you missed out on what I think about Tim Tebow, so devote some time today to thinking about bullets you've dodged). In lieu of that, check this: footage from a 1959 World Championships match between Czechoslovakia and Canada. My guys are in dark and doing well here, though they ended up third behind Canada and the Soviets. Whoever posted this is some kind of hero of the universe.

Know Your Hockey History Redux

2011-11-27T11:40:00.003-05:00

In connection with a long-term project I'm working on -- a (very partial) list of hockey players who fled Czechoslovakia during the Communist era. No NHLers or WHAers here, not because I'm not interested but because their stories are generally pretty well documented.

Jiří Bastl -- Fringe player for Sparta Praha and Kladno in the 1960s. Defected late that decade, apparently to West Germany at first (though details are sketchy). Made his way to North America where he attended a Blackhawks training camp and played in the IHL, then went back to Germany. Coached for a while. Now lives in Switzerland, and is (I think, again) the father of tennis player George Bastl.

Kristián Cee -- Sparta defenseman of the 1940s and 1950s. Became a doctor during his playing days. Post-career, traveled to Western Europe through Yugoslavia in 1966, settling in West Germany. Returned to the Czech Republic after the fall of Communism, and died last year.

Jaroslav Drobný -- Now here's a guy worth looking into: a forward for I. ČLTK Praha, he was also a tennis star and defected at a 1949 tournament. He got Egyptian (sure, why not?) citizenship, won the 1954 Wimbledon men's singles tournament, and eventually settled in Britain. He died there in 2001.

Jiří Hanzl -- uncertain on this one, but I think that post-career, the Sparta goalie defected to West Germany. He definitely ended up coaching there for a while.

Petr Hejma -- 1968 Olympian, forward for Sparta Praha. Defected to West Germany following a Sparta exhibition match in September 1968. Played many years for Düsseldorf and Krefeld, still lives in Germany.

Zdeněk Hlásek -- Sparta forward during the 1950s. Not sure of the date but defected in the 1960s. Still lives in Switzerland, and like Bastl his son ended up a professional tennis player.

Jiří Kren -- Sparta forward, defected during the 1963 Spengler Cup. Played in the Canadian minor leagues for a season then back to Germany and Switzerland. I exchanged letters with him a few years ago; he was making wine in northern Italy, which does not sound half bad.

Oldřich Kučera -- 1936 Olympian, longtime LTC Praha forward. Post-career details are scant, but by 1949 he was coaching in Switzerland, and reportedly eventually ended up in Australia.

Viktor Lonsmín -- covered at length here.

Martin Maglay -- 1970s junior goalie, fled along with or around the same time as Jiří Crha. Ended up in the Maple Leafs system but it's unclear if he ever played; he was beaten up during a mugging and that effectively ended his career. Runs hockey school programs in Ontario.

Zdeněk Marek -- forward for ATK Praha and Sparta, defected at 1949 World Championships. Played at least one season for the University of North Dakota; I don't know if he played any organized hockey after that. Lived in New York for a long time. Reportedly passed away in 2009, though that's strangely hard to confirm.

Stanislav Nepomucký -- Sparta defenseman in the 1950s. Defected during an exhibition tour in 1958. Played at least one season for HIJS Den Haag in the Netherlands; eventually ended up in the United States and changed his last name to "Nielsen." Passed away in 2006.

Jiří Petrnoušek -- Sparta youngster, defected to the Netherlands in 1968 at age 21. Played for Tilburg for a very long time and represented the Dutch in the 1980 Olympics. Think he still lives there.

Jiří Pokorný -- defected late 1960s, date unclear, not clear if he was currently active when it happened. Wound up as player-coach for Tilburg in Netherlands in 1969-70, then coached in Netherlands and West Germany through the 1970s. I'm still looking for more information on him, by the way.

Miloslav Pospíšil -- Forward for ATK Praha, Tatra Smichov, and Sparta. Wound down his career in the early 1960s, fled to Austria in 1968. Eventually wound up in North America, and lived in New York until his death in 2000.

Rudolf Šindelář -- Sparta forward from the late '50s through the '70s. Escaped to Austria (I think) at some point post-career. Now lives back in the Czech Republic.

Miroslav Sláma -- Fellow I don't know much about -- I. ČLTK Praha defenseman, 1948 Olympian. According to notes on the Society for International Hockey Research website, he defected during the 1948 Spengler Cup tournament and spent several years playing and coaching in Switzerland. Ended up in the U.S., died in California in 2008.

Zdeněk Tikal -- Brother of Czech legend František. Not sure what level Zdeněk played at in Czechoslovakia -- I haven't turned up any records with major teams. Went to Australia with his father in 1948, played on the Australian national team in the 1960 Olympics. Died in 1991.

Jaroslav Tůma -- Like Petrnoušek, another Sparta youngster, may have defected at the same time. Ended up with Tilburg (along with Petrnoušek and Pokorný), where he put up frankly ridiculous numbers. Went to West Germany after a few years and still did well; eventually wound up in Switzerland, I think.

Ivo Veselý -- Like Zdeněk Tikal, I know nothing about his Czechoslovak career -- like ZT, went to Australia and ended up on the 1960 team. Died 2002.

Oldřich Zabrodský -- Brother of Vladimír (see below). Forward for LTC Praha, fled to Switzerland in 1948, where he played for Davos and Lausanne for a few years. Lived in Belgium last I knew.

Vladimír Zábrodský -- Legendary forward for LTC Praha and Sparta, subject of much controversy. Escaped to Sweden at some point. Still lives there.

This is far from a complete list -- look for updates at some point.

Clearing the Pipes

2011-11-26T19:42:00.003-05:00

One thing about this book diary: once it backs up a bit, it keeps me from posting anything else. Let's rectify that and quickly.

#36 -- "Zone One" by Colson Whitehead

I'm way over zombies, so it's a testament to Whitehead's power that I was able to get past that for this. Very good, not his best, but very good. Subtle, too -- weeks later I'm still picking up on things.

#37 -- "The Origins of the Second World War" by A.J.P. Taylor

Post-Wallace I'm on a history kick, and I've been wanting to reread Taylor's "The Struggle for Mastery in Europe," which I last read in college. Feeling like I should read something new-to-me first, I got this and "Bismarck." This isn't anything really new to me, but it's very well presented, and it's instructive and helpful to read a history that looks at everything rather dispassionately -- i.e. did the characters involved act rationally. Britain comes off looking awful, France almost as bad.

#38 -- "Tito" by Neil Barnett

This is part of a series of popular biographies, so maybe my hopes were a bit high. As far as here's how Tito's life went, here's what he did, here's what resulted, it's fine. It doesn't delve much deeper than that, though. (Admittedly, sources beyond Tito himself are scarce for parts of his life.) I don't have any real complaints about this, but no enthusiasm, either. It gets the job done, but I'll have to wait for a real comprehensive biography of the man.

The Joke

2011-11-21T19:54:00.006-05:00

#35 -- "Infinite Jest" by David Foster Wallace

So it took nearly two months, 15 years after it actually came out, ten years after I really should have read it, two years after Infinite Summer for chrissakes.

And it was so very worth it. Was it frustrating? Absolutely -- there were times when I'd settle in to read a chapter before bed, and instead find myself getting through two pages in 30 minutes. There were sections that I wanted to skip. There were times that I thought it'd never end.

But when I got to the end, I wanted to go back and start again. "Infinite Jest" amazed me and moved me.

A recap isn't really worthwhile -- there's so much written about the book (a lot of it really good itself!) that me trying to sum it up wouldn't accomplish much. I can say I'd recommend everyone give it a try. Early on, I told someone who asked that I wasn't sure if it was for everyone. I still don't know, but I think everyone should find that out themselves. It's worth the try.

What a fantastic book. I wish I hadn't waited until three years after Wallace's death to find out just what I'd been missing.

Free Gary Roenicke

2011-11-15T13:57:00.000-05:00

This is the one thing that could get me to follow baseball again.

Placeholder

2011-11-13T20:25:00.004-05:00

I meant to get back to blogging this weekend. I've been all moved in for a while, things have settled down, I finished "Infinite Jest." Then ... time slipped away.

But, soon. I still intend to write some longer things for this, which unfortunately take some research time. I'd also like to write something about the experience of finally reading "IJ," because there simply isn't enough written about that book. I'd like to write something about the very strange experience of being a Denver Broncos fan this year.

But tonight? Tonight I'm tired, and I'm going to drink a Lagunitas Censored and read A.J.P. Taylor 'til I pass out. Soon, though.

Relocation

2011-10-09T11:26:00.002-04:00

So, uh, it's October already? September blew by -- in what constitutes a major life change, I've been moving in with the Ski Bum. It's the first time since 2002 that I haven't lived alone, and moving (and preparing my old place to be rented) has made me radically rethink the benefits of private property -- think a special episode of "Hoarders" devoted to Eastern Europe, hockey, and penguins and you get some idea of what my place was like. Books about the Balkans alone took up several storage boxes.

In a masterpiece of bad timing, I also declared September to be "Infinite Jest Month" -- reading that was long overdue. Now, finishing it is: moving and reading IJ at the same time don't really mix, as I'm usually getting in about five pages as I collapse at the end of the day. I'm still just 1/3 of the way through it.

And that's all I'm reading. So the only addition to the list lately is this:

#34 -- "Ajax, Barcelona, Cruyff" by Frits Barend and Henk Van Dorp

This is a collection of interviews with the soccer legend, and -- as is probably obvious -- one's interest in the book will be directly proportional to their interest in Johan Cruyff. Mine's moderate. Some of it's really interesting -- Cruyff is not humble and not shy about stating his opinion, making him a far more fascinating personality than, say, Tom Brady or Sidney Crosby. But then many of the interviews are directly related to issues in Dutch/Spanish soccer at the time of speaking, and those get eye-glazing if you don't have a doctorate in "internal politics at Ajax, mid-70s."

Maxvill

2011-09-20T07:56:00.003-04:00

"I'd hate to see you throw a knuckleball 3 and 2 to a guy like Maxvill, if the bases are loaded and a walk means your ballgame."

That's 1969 Astros manager Harry Walker, speaking to Jim Bouton, quoted in "Ball Four." I read it in 1985 or so, and immediately cultivated an image of Maxvill, a player I otherwise knew nothing about: a canny player, the kind of thoughtful hitter who would make you pay if you threw him the wrong pitch at the wrong time. I vaguely wondered why I hadn't heard more about him in all my baseball reading.

That image stayed with me until I came across this card a few weeks ago, and read the back: I'd interpreted Walker's words the wrong way. Dal Maxvill hit .175 in 1969.

* * *

This isn't becoming a card blog, but I felt like I needed a palate cleanser after that Hadl airbrush. This is just a beautiful card.

The 1972 Topps design is hit or miss for me -- I can't tell if they were going for their idea of a modern-psychedelic design, or their idea of a throwback-1920s art design. Or both. Sometimes it's really gaudy. But other times, when they keep the colors sedate, they can be lovely. Exhibit A: this card. It screams baseball. The photo is great -- the Cardinals' uniforms are so timeless that this could be any time from the 1930s onward. Turn it sepia and you could pass this picture off as a member of the Gashouse Gang.

Your Airbrush Future

2011-09-16T20:47:00.004-04:00

Madness lies within 1970s sports cards. You pick up a card that at first glance looks okay -- but the slightest uptick in attention to detail and you notice something seems off. It's been airbrushed. You think ok, that's not a bad airbrushing, but then you can't help but keep looking, and all the little flaws leap out at you, and eventually you've spent 15 minutes critiquing a football card that came out when you were four years old.

There are a few quarterbacks that have earned themselves a classification in my mind: guys who retired a few years before I came onto the football-watching scene, who seemed to get good press but didn't end up in the Hall of Fame or in the Super Bowl, my two main avenues of exploring the NFL's past. Roman Gabriel, John Brodie, John Hadl (Billy Kilmer is a semi-member, but he played in a Super Bowl). I know two things about Hadl: he played for the Chargers for a long time, and his last name looks like it might be Croatian. Oh, a third: his 1975 Topps football card probably drove an airbrusher crazy.

Not sure why they had to resort to the airbrush here -- he went from the Rams to the Packers in mid-1974, so there was ample time to find a new photo or just dig out a cropped head shot. But no, Topps stuck with this picture (it's a good one, you must admit). At first it looks pretty normal -- you have to scrutinize things like numbers to see the problems. But then the big one hits: both teams are wearing home darks. Never happens. Once that clue's there, you can see all the little things: Hadl's helmet is a little off (though really pretty good -- I've seen airbrushed helmets that looked like Sputnik), the deformed #72 on the blocker, the lines on Hadl's socks.

But then the thing that drives me absolutely crazy: #5, there, on the far left of the card. Why did a PATRIOTS player have to be airbrushed in? With his deformed hand and the helmet that looks like a six-year-old drew it? What's the point?

The point, I guess, is that the Rams' bench was on that side of the field and there must have been a clear white jersey standing there, maybe with a dark blue helmet. So it was necessary to do something. But why make it a (very weird-looking) Patriots player? It's that detail that's the breaking point, the thing that keeps me coming back to this card. If it took that much effort, why not just dig up a Hadl headshot?

After all that work, Hadl's time with the Packers was brief and disappointing (details here, including info on the Ricky Williams-esque trade that brought Hadl to Green Bay). Airbrushing lasted a bit longer -- Topps kept doing it on football and baseball cards 'til 1981 or so, and hockey through about 1990. The anonymous airbrusher, I hope, went on to bigger and better things. After that card, he deserved them.

September

2011-09-03T09:02:00.002-04:00

It's still steamy, still bordering on unbearable, but now the knowledge that it will end becomes more tangible. Mornings are refreshing, not as heavy with heat. It's still a sweaty business just existing, but it's not too long before I can bring the long-sleeve t-shirts out of mothballs. Stepping out of work to the sounds and smells of a Falcons preseason tailgate the other night was bracing, exciting. It felt like the start of something good.

I've said it many times before: autumn is my favorite time of year here. This one promises to be good.

So, Hey

2011-08-29T20:46:00.002-04:00

The dog days of August get me again. The Ski Bum and I went to Mexico for a week, then when we returned we both suffered post-vacation torpor and ailments, then my internet crapped out for a few days. And things have been busy. And I've still got that torpor (I haven't uploaded most of my vacation pics yet, for one).

I've got some stories to tell, like my run-in with the cops in some backwater town, but they'll have to wait (I'm tired, still a bit ill, and in the midst of one of my three fantasy football drafts). But they'll come -- I've got some writing in me.

In the meantime, though, other people's writing:

#31 -- "But Beautiful" by Geoff Dyer

Many years back, a music critic told a friend: if you can write well about jazz or hip hop, you've got it made in this business. Which may explain why I flamed out as a music writer. I love jazz. I can't write word one about it, though.

Geoff Dyer can write quite well about it. I learned about this book through the Progressive on the Prairie -- I suggest you read his piece on the book, which is better than anything I can do. It's quite a book and one of the best things I've read this year.

#32 -- "The Serbs" by Tim Judah

This falls into a weird gray area: it's fantastic, but if you aren't really really into that region of the world, it'll be too dense. If you are really really into that region of the world you probably don't need me to tell you about the book. Anyway, it's nuanced and intelligent. Also unknown by me 'til recently: Judah is apparently behind the Economist's great Eastern Approaches blog, so three yays there.

#33 -- "The Dangerous Summer" by Ernest Hemingway

Ah Hem. Long time since I've read anything by him (aside from my ten-year effort to get through "Garden of Eden"). This is half brilliant descriptions of enjoying life and drinking with beautiful people, half stuff about bullfighting. To be fair, some of the bullfighting stuff is pretty gripping (and I still want to read "Death in the Afternoon") but ultimately I don't really know/want to know anything about the sport, so it's kinda lost on me. For completists only. Or people who grabbed it off a used bookstore shelf on a whim a decade ago.

Close Your Eyes and Think of England

2011-08-13T08:52:00.000-04:00

Heading out of town again, for the third time in the last month-and-a-half -- this strange little period of jet-setting ends after this, and I'll be Atlanta-bound for a few months. Not now, though, and it's actually a pleasant change to schedule just about all my out-of-town trips for the unbearable summer months rather than the pleasant spring/fall months.

I went to DC two weeks ago, for a 48-hour exercise in old-style drinking-too-much, and managed to take two photographs over the course of the trip:

So there you have it. DC.

* * *

Books:

#26 -- "Send Them Victorious" by David Stubbs

I like to imagine my British friends' internal monologues sound like this. It's hard to properly describe without weakening the joke, but an old British Boer War commander reviews all English international soccer matches. Clever and surprisingly subtle for something that's (intentionally) over-the-top xenophobic. Really, it's a lot funnier than I can make it out to be, just search "wingo" and "When Saturday Comes" and that might turn up some of the pieces. I laughed throughout, and I am normally a somber, humorless man.

There were four more books here, but sometimes Blogger says "Greg -- I'm autosaving right now," but then lies. And then when you hit "publish," you get a 404 error, and then find out that your draft cut out like 20 minutes ago. And then you say a really bad word, because really you need to finish packing. So you miss out on hearing about:

#27 -- "Contacts" by Jan Morris

#28 -- "Reach for the Ground" by Jeffrey Bernard

#29 -- "They Call Me Assassin" by Jack Tatum

#30 -- "The Italian Job" by Gianluca Vialli and Gabriele Marcotti

So, uh, sorry?

* * *

Got to run but one last bit of self-promotion: read this! And go Liverpool today.

I Wrote Something

2011-08-10T17:26:00.002-04:00

So I usually try to keep this part of my life separate from that part of my life, but once in a while ego takes over: I've written a travel article on my favorite place, and I'm really rather proud of it. Go and give it a read, willya?

Late to the Party

2011-08-07T12:14:00.002-04:00

A while back, I gave Unsane a nice little tongue bath -- one of my favorite-ever bands, legends in the field, etc. Left unremarked at the time: I hadn't heard their most recent album, 2007's "Visqueen." Yes, kind of weird to go four years without hearing the latest album by one of my favorite bands. But I kinda figured I knew what I'd be getting, the logical follow-up to "Occupational Hazard" and "Blood Run." Something cool but not mind-blowing.

I was kind of right but oh so wrong. Motivated by extreme enthusiasm for one of Chris Spencer's other projects, Celan, as well as the late-last-year release of a new Unsane single, I finally checked out "Visqueen." I may have telegraphed the punch: this may be the best thing they've done since at least "Total Destruction," if not earlier¹.

"Visqueen" is just nasty. Furious, but with that tightly-wound control that's made Unsane such a mesmerizing and ominous force for (gulp) more than two decades. "This Stops at the River" and "No One" sound like a hate letter to New York. "Shooting Clay" and "Last Man Standing" and a couple other spots on the album bring the bluesy element that's always lurked in the depths of Unsane's music to the forefront -- it's like Robert Johnson's playing guitar with a crowbar, man². "Eat Crow" and "Disdain" are familiar headcrushers. I could probably do without the eight-minute dirge that closes out the album, but what the hell, if I'm gonna hear an eight-minute dirge I'd prefer it be by Unsane.

This is the lost soundtrack to "Escape From New York." Snake Plissken would dig this. Goddamn Unsane, man. They're still touring, too -- I hope they make it down here sometime soon.

^{1 - Pitchfork gave this a 5.0 score. Here's a fun fact: Pitchfork sucks.}

^{2 - I don't know what this means}

Football Readiness: Confirmed

2011-07-27T20:39:00.005-04:00

This has been one long week of global bummers, between the Norway massacres and the subsequent jerky reaction, the death of Amy Winehouse and the subsequent jerky reaction, and the ongoing bizarrely self-destructive debt ceiling dispute and the ongoing jerky reaction. Borders went under, somehow prompting one sleepless night thinking about the world's imminent decline. And it's been really hot.

Amid all this, the end of the NFL lockout comes as not just a relief but an overwhelming joy. About a month ago I told the Ski Bum that I'd be fine if the NFL lockout continued through the season, that I'd use the time to do productive things. She looked at me askance, and rightly so. The past 48 hours have been a blissed-out blur of reading ESPN blogs about guys I've never heard of on teams I don't care about, wondering where Kevin Kolb will end up, stopping my fingers just short of buying 16 John Elway throwback jerseys on eBay. I'm excited about the forthcoming Premier League season and Liverpool's possibilities. I'm excited about the forthcoming NHL season and the Avalanche's possibilities. I am absolutely frothing rabid about the upcoming National Football League season and this in a year where the Broncos will be lucky to go the 6-10 that Vegas is predicting. I'm thinking about taking some days off to go visit Falcons training camp, even though that means sitting outside on an August Georgia day developing heat prostration and watching a team I don't really care about.

Should I like football this much? It's a stupid and meaningless question, yes, but that doesn't prevent me from asking myself from time to time. The whole overblown spectacle surrounding the sport, the mashup of a WWE event and one of the crasser Republicans' campaign rallies, is anathema to quiet bookish me. There's the casual response to the potentially life-ruining violence, there's the casual racism that's let much of the fan base dehumanize Vince Young, to name one. The players generally aren't too likeable, the fans are often worse (part of the reason that I've never sought out a Broncos bar here is that it lets me maintain the fiction that Denver fans are smarter/classier than the rest). It's not a sport with much of an intellectual tradition -- Paul Zimmerman (past) and David Roth (present) are the only writers on the sport that have impressed adult me (America's most popular sport should have more great writers on it, shouldn't it? Roth knocks it out of the park in the Awl, but other than that there's no one that I feel like I have to read, just the SI types that I struggle to on Monday morning because I'm reluctant to accept that the football weekend's over).

But forget all that. I'm certainly able to. Come September 11th, I'll be getting into a neck vein-popping state over failed third downs. I'll be performing ethical contortions to justify rooting for the unsavory types on my teams (a little easier for me, at least, since I don't root for the Steelers). I'll be Tweeting incoherent pre-verbalisms when Knowshon Moreno fumbles. I'll be routinely drunk and eating awful shit on Sunday afternoons.

Why? I don't know. American football's the best sport for tv, and combined with its once-a-week schedule, it seems more like an event, a happening than other sports. Childhood conditioning, too, I guess -- in our largely secular household, the NFL was the premier Sunday ritual, and my childhood happily coincided with the local team being pretty great. And for all the missteps, the NFL does know how to build up drama -- NFL Films may be frequently hokey, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I get a chill any time I see its grainy slo-mo, even if it's a presentation of "The Detroit Lions: The Less-Bad Years."

So bring on the spectacle, bring on the stupid. Bring on Frank Caliendo and Jimmy Johnson and Tim Tebow talking earnestly about believing in yourself. It isn't pretty, it isn't classy, but good lord I cannot wait for football to start.

Prague 2001

2011-07-24T15:24:00.004-04:00

One afternoon I went to U Fleků, spurred on by the "Rough Guide to Prague" descriptions of ambrosial beer and a beer museum in the back. The beer was indeed ambrosial, although back in 2001 the craft beer explosion hadn't fully hit and I was still willing to drink things like Heineken, so my perceptions may have changed since. When I went back in 2006, the bar was full of drunk loud Germans so I passed it by in favor of a club where bad folkies were playing to hippie American expats.

The beer museum, though: I asked an employee about it, me with no Czech and he with limited English, and was led back into a courtyard. He indicated that he needed to get the fellow in charge of the museum -- he also indicated that this wasn't something that came up often. I waited, and waited. Finally, he reappeared -- and bear in mind that it was about 4 p.m. -- shaking his head. "Still asleep," he said. "Still asleep."

* * *

Pretty slick, wasn't it, how I spent all of June nursing this blog back to life, then spent the first few weeks of this month holding a metaphorical pillow over its metaphorical face? Yeah. I've been working on something else writing-wise, which will hopefully bear fruit soon, and I've been busy as hell regardless. To sum up: Colorado was lovely, and everyone who doesn't live there is an idiot.

* * *

Books. I did continue to read.

#23 -- "Sag Harbor" by Colson Whitehead

I'm thoroughly in the bag for ol' Colson now, and I'll read anything he writes, even if it's on the disappointing Grantland site. This, man, this is so good. A book about the teenage years that doesn't feel romanticized or idealized: dead-on funny and heartbreaking. My memories of childhood summers stem from the two weeks we'd spend at a Michigan lake -- this felt perfectly accurate, and wonderfully written.

#24 -- "Roumeli" by Patrick Leigh Fermor

I felt like I should pay tribute to the late PLF somehow, but in retrospect I probably shoulda just read "A Time of Gifts" again. This has some beautiful parts, but really, unless you share Fermor's rapturous love of Greece -- and it exceeds my love of all things Slavic -- a lot of this will seem over the top.

#25 -- "Pfitz" by Andrew Crumey

Some of this feels way too cute, some of this feels like genius that's a few levels above me. On finishing it, I was torn between a sneaking suspicion that I'd just wasted a few days, and the desire to read this about two more times to sort it out.

Jaroslav Jiřík

2011-07-11T10:07:00.003-04:00

Sad news from the Czech Republic -- media reports say that Jaroslav Jiřík, once of the St. Louis Blues and the first Czech-trained player in the NHL, died in a small plane crash today.

His North American career was minor -- three NHL games, no points, most of the season spent in the minors -- and he went back to Czechoslovakia after one year (later saying he should have given it more time). His career in Europe was pretty magnificent, though. Nearly 20 seasons with Kladno and Brno, more than 300 goals, three Olympics and seven World Championships. Rest in peace.

Notes From the Patio

2011-07-07T12:06:00.003-04:00

I'm on vacation, I read a lot. My parents have a nice back patio that's very conducive to this. Briefly:

#20 -- "Big Shots" by A.J. Baime

A series of brief histories on some of the world's biggest liquor brands. The style's not really my thing -- written by a Playboy editor, nice back cover comments from Maxim, this is bro-lit. Bill Simmons on booze. It's fun though, and made me feel like I should drink more bourbon. Plus learning what an awful human being the real Captain Morgan was makes those horrid "Put a little Captain in you" ads a bit easier to take.

#21 -- "Shadow of the Silk Road" by Colin Thubron

Some time back, I was mightily unimpressed with one of Thubron's earliest works. Reading this gives me a bit of perspective on that, though, and if I look at "The Hills of Adonis" as a rookie effort in the process that eventually allowed Thubron to write something this wonderful, well, then, it served a purpose. There isn't a lot of great travel writing around today, but Thubron seems to get better and better. "Shadow of the Silk Road" takes him along the old route, from China to Turkey, and it's the best book yet from someone who's written his share of greats.

#22 -- "Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman

Good fun here. I'm still waiting for one of Gaiman's novels to knock me out, and it hasn't yet -- his characters are a bit too templated for me -- but they're all entertaining, rollicking, exciting, whatever words you want to use. In my easily-distracted state, it's nice to find a book that hooks me enough to be read in one sitting.

Back to the patio!

The Eagle Has Landed

2011-07-04T15:14:00.003-04:00

Interrupting this holiday silence with breaking news: Tomáš Klouček has latched on to a team for 2011-12, signing on with HC Lev Poprad. This is the new Slovakian entry in the KHL, and it's looking like a haven for Czechs and Slovaks who want KHL money while staying closer to home. Every player listed here is either Czech or Slovak, including long-ago Avalanche washout Václav Nedorost.

This is excellent news (though not as excellent as my hypothetical Klouček-to-Brno deal). HC Lev immediately becomes the shining star of the KHL. Everyone can get back to enjoying the holiday now.

That Life It Is Contagious

2011-07-03T22:02:00.003-04:00

At the risk of jinxing myself, life was already feeling kind of good before I came out here. Now? Now I feel unstoppable, able to bench press cars, ready to star in a Hollywood blockbuster. Colorado will do that to you. Well, perhaps not you, but definitely me.

This morning began with me on my parents' back porch at 7 a.m., drinking coffee and writing in 70 degree temperatures. Two hours later, I was at 10,500 feet, clambering over a 10-foot-deep snowdrift to get to a rickety bridge over a burbling stream. By 1 p.m., I was back on the porch, 70 degrees changed to 90 and coffee changed to beer.

It was all lovely. Colorado, why you gotta be so great?

Coming to a Close

2011-06-30T21:36:00.002-04:00

This is, I think, the last day of the SCFblog challenge (today or tomorrow -- I'll have something tomorrow anyway, before I leave for Colorado). Big thanks to Tapeleg for getting this going, and giving me a reason to breathe some life into this ol' blog. I think you'll continue to see a more frequent posting schedule than pre-challenge. Not quite daily, and perhaps not quite so much on obscure Czechoslovakian hockey, but more often.

Not much tonight, as I'm still wiped out from a weird and evil 24-hour sinus infection that struck me yesterday, plus I'm still struggling to do laundry and pack, plus I frittered away most of the evening playing Football Manager (Ajax are well on their way to a second straight Dutch title). I'll be writing from Colorado soon enough (when not buying Tapeleg Becherovka and beers), and hopefully maintaining some of the momentum this produced.

Thanks to everyone that dropped by. Now tonight, do me a favor, and pray to whatever higher power you believe in that the Avalanche don't pick up the newly-free Sheldon Souray tomorrow.

* * *

#19 -- "A Visit From the Goon Squad" by Jennifer Egan

I feel a bit unworthy writing about this when I'm this tired -- this'll just be a knocked-off review, and this book deserves more. I get nervous when a novel is described as a rock and roll novel -- which I think this was, or maybe I imagined it -- because the track record isn't great. "The Commitments" is fun enough, I never liked "Great Jones Street," and I seem to remember Jay McInerney writing one that was just awful.

Put all that negativity aside, because this is wonderful. Often touching, often funny, often powerful. It's more a series of loosely connected stories than a novel ("a rock and roll 'Cloud Atlas'" - Greg). There seems to be a lot of hype around Egan, and judging by this, it's justified.

The Last in Line

2011-06-29T21:40:00.002-04:00

The end of the roll call: part three of the Czech Thrashers.

Zdeněk Blatný -- Guy's from Brno! A product of the first draft, I can honestly say that (even with my eye for such things) I don't remember a minute of Blatný playing in Atlanta. (He only managed 20 games over two seasons for the Thrashers, so perhaps understandable.) Went to Europe in the lockout year, came back for a season in the Bruins system, and has been bouncing around Europe ever since. He split 2010-11 between three different teams in Slovakia and Germany, doesn't seem to have a team for next season. He's still just 30, though, so I imagine he'll pop up somewhere.

Tomáš Klouček -- What could have been. Official hero of the PPA. 38 games over two seasons for the Thrashers, his time ran out with Barys Astana of the KHL and he's been linked to Slovakia's new entry in that league. Mark my words, if he'd stuck in Atlanta, things would be so different now. (I'd have about 14 more Thrashers jerseys, for one thing.)

Jaroslav Modrý -- Gosh, did I ever want to like him, but my enduring memory of his one Thrashers season goes like this: power play, puck goes to Modrý at the point, it skips over his stick and out of the zone. That happened one trillion times (give or take) in 2005-06. Kind of amazingly after that, he managed two more NHL seasons with the Stars, Kings, and Flyers, before returning to the Czech Rep. He played in Plzeň last year, not sure if he's back next season.

Bobby Holík -- He was here for three seasons, according to the internet (which has no reason to lie) -- I would have sworn it was much shorter. I remember being excited about the signing, but then never really warmed to him with the team. I believe he lives in Wyoming now, which I've always found rather curious (people living in Wyoming, that is, not Holík in particular).

Pavel Kubina -- Another longtime favorite (Czech defenseman, natch), though by the end of 2009-10 he seemed to be going through the motions. Granted, so did every other player except Evgeny Artyukhin. I was still sad to see him go -- a really solid player whose reputation was tarnished by playing in Toronto. He suffered a concussion in the playoffs and I'm hoping he'll be fit to go next year.

Ondřej Pavelec -- Ahh, perhaps the saddest entry. He showed many signs of becoming the goalie we hoped last year -- now, if he pans out, he'll do it in Winnipeg. Left out to dry far too often by the shaky defense, I get the sense he's got a good future. He's getting more looks for the Czechs in international play, too. Maybe, down the line, a Pavelec Czech jersey will make its way into my home.

Early '90s Represent

2011-06-28T21:39:00.003-04:00

I don't really get too bent out of shape over the Hall of Fame -- basically if a player is up there enough that he's even in the discussion then sure, give him the benefit of the doubt, that's my feeling. (note: this all becomes null and void when Chris Osgood's name comes up) All of the guys today are sorta relics of the pre-Avalanche era for me -- regardless of how long they played or what they accomplished, I lock in Nieuwendyk with Calgary, Gilmour with the Leafs, Belfour with the Blackhawks. (And Howe with the Flyers, but that was where he spent his glory years anyway.)

At least in the case of Gilmour and Belfour, that's where the best memories are. I'd completely forgotten that Killer ended up playing for the Sabres and Canadiens in later days -- after that period from 1992 to 1994 where he was in contention for best all-around player (I had a Gilmour poster and jersey, and I've never even liked the Leafs), the decline was pretty rapid. And even though Belfour won the Cup with the Stars, by that point he was behind Roy, Brodeur, and Hasek on the list of most-feared goalies. His off-ice escapades eventually made him something of a joke, and it was easy to forget that time when he was the most-feared goalie in the league. God, I hated him with the Blackhawks. Glad he never made it to Detroit.

Anyway, the good feelings from the selections lasted about five minutes before everyone on Twitter started bitching about whoever didn't make it, but in this corner: can't complain. I'd like to see Bure get in but I can't argue that he should have gone ahead of any of these guys.

Lifeline

2011-06-27T21:45:00.003-04:00

Tonight's the closest I've come to dropping out: I planned an extravagant post, got caught up in other activities and lost track of time, and now I'm about 10 steps from collapsing and I've got nothing. Nothing... but an old CHZ Litvínov banner.

Litvínov is one of the smaller towns to become prominent in Czech hockey -- it's more on the level of Chomutov than Prague or Brno -- but since Miroslav Klůc's stint with the team 50 years ago, it's at least made a dent. Prominent players coming out of Litvínov include Ivan Hlinka¹, Jiří Bubla, Petr Klíma, Josef Beránek, Robert Lang, Vladimír Růžička, Martin Ručinský, and Jiří Šlégr all passed through. Put aside your thoughts about those players' NHL careers -- that's a pretty good lineup.

Litvínov's closely associated with black and gold -- when a book was written about the team's history, the title was "Černá Žlutá," or "black and yellow" -- but careful observation reveals that this is red and black. No idea why -- I haven't seen any color pictures of Litvínov uniforms pre-1980s, so if they once emulated the Atlanta Falcons, I still haven't seen proof.

^{1 - and if ever someone's reputation deserved a posthumous rethinking, it's Ivan Hlinka -- a hockey legend whose name was dragged through the mud by a disastrous and perhaps unwinnable coaching situation}

ATK Praha

2011-06-26T19:24:00.003-04:00

Another of the old Czech magazines, and this one's a goldmine. "Ruch" (meaning "hustle," according to Google Translate) from November 28, 1952. It looks like it's the precursor to "Stadion" -- same size, similar look, same publisher's address inside.

There's a lot here and I'll post stuff as I scan in, but for now I just want to talk about the cover. It's a great photo, making me wonder if all of these magazines are nicely archived somewhere. It shows a match between Plzeň in blue -- for that year, they were known as ZSJ Leninovy Závody Plzeň, which is a mouthful -- and ATK Praha in green. The ATK player in the center, mosh pit grimace on his face, is forward Miloslav Charouzd. I don't know a lot about him, but he was pretty prominent in 1950s Czechoslovak hockey -- he played on that doomed 1949 World Championships team, then on the 1952 Olympic team.

The thing that's most interesting (to me, friends, to me) is the ATK uniforms -- in my various books and magazines, this is the only thing that has good clear photos of the team. The ATK stood for the melodious "Armádní tělocvičný klub" -- Army Physical Education Club, according once again to our pals at Google Translate. It was one of several short-lived military clubs (Tankista and ÚDA Praha among the others) in the early 1950s, prior to the military focusing its affections on Dukla Jihlava. There isn't much on record about ATK -- they (as far as I can tell) replaced the similarly-obscure Stadion Podolí, went through some name changes and then vanished after 1956 -- so realizing that this actually had a photo of them in action, however obscured, caused some excitement in these parts.

Not much on the design (there's actually a better black-and-white view inside, which I'll scan sometime down the line), strong letters that look kind of frattish or youth crewish, but thumbs up to the forest green-and-red combination. That's not something you see a ton (at least in North America -- the Minnesota Wild are the only team that I can think of), like the claret-and-blue of Aston Villa.

I don't know much about any of the other players on the cover. The Plzeň defenseman in the front is named Havlíček -- I can't find anything more on him. The goalie is likely Karel Trhlík. The player in the back (partially cut off on my scan) is a bit confusing -- his jersey appears to be pale green, but the caption indicates that he's defending here, so he's probably just a miscolored Plzeň player. The caption calls him "Havel" -- likely Jan Havel, one of several Czech players with that name.

More to come from this issue, once I get stuff scanned in.

Guilty Feelings

2011-06-26T15:36:00.003-04:00

#18 -- "Our Lady of Darkness" by Fritz Leiber

This is something I feel kind of bad about: trashing a book that's (I think) out of print and not likely to be picked up anyhow. But somewhere along the line, I committed to documenting everything I read, so:

(deep breath)

Boy is this bad. I felt a need for some old-timey horror a while back, and this was one of the few books mentioned in Stephen King's "Danse Macabre" that I never got around to reading. The little I knew about it sounded good. I find the concept of cities-as-entities interesting and I had high hopes.

Instead: a muddled and often incomprehensible plot. Horrible expository dialogue. Unwieldy adjectives and adverbs. Boring cardboard characters. There are three legitimately chilling scenes in the entire book -- one is immediately followed by five or six chapters of a dry conversation recounting an invented San Francisco literary history, another turns out to be a complicated joke. At one point, a character "quirk[s] a smile". Harry Stephen Keeler would be ashamed.

I get the feeling that this was a very personal book for Leiber -- the little bit I've read about his life seems to indicate that. I wonder if that kept editors from pushing some much-needed changes. It needed something.

The kicker: this won the World Fantasy Award for best novel in 1978. I won't be seeking out the runner-up.

Atlanta's Czechs (Part 2)

2011-06-25T15:01:00.002-04:00

Thought about an Avalanche draft post, but after about pick three I was at a party, and past Landeskog and Siemens I don't really recognize any of the names. Plus, last night's post serves as proof that I really don't know what I'm talking about -- I got kind of upset that they didn't draft a defenseman with the second pick, but since I'm vastly against rushing defensemen to the NHL anyhow, I should therefore... be against picking one there? Picking one to start in 2011? Oh, god, I don't know. I can't complain about the Landeskog pick, have a strange premonition Siemens will be traded before he ever plays a game for the Avalanche, and they didn't pick any Czechs or Slovaks. There you go, that's your draft post.

Let's move on with the Czech Thrashers instead. Starting with a favorite:

Jiří Šlégr -- one of my all-time favorite hockey players, little of which has to do with his Thrashers time (though I was upset when he was traded). Definitely my all-time favorite Canuck. Never really got the respect he deserved, but he's one of those rare guys who won the triple of the Stanley Cup/Olympics/World Championships, plus he's Jiří Bubla's son so beat that. The best thing about the Red Wings winning Stanley Cups is that Šlégr got a ring. He's now in the Czech parliament, which is awesome.

Ladislav Kohn -- Scrappy guy who could've had a NHL career if things had fallen differently, another one I almost forget was a Thrasher (26 games, seven points). Also ended up lifting the Cup with the Wings, though (correct me if I'm wrong) think he didn't play enough to get his name on. Still plugging away with Třinec in the Czech league.

Milan Hnilička -- All-time leader, NHL-goalie-looking-most-like-Henry-Winkler award. Ended up with a pretty awful NHL record but he never had a very good team in front of him, eventually getting pushed out by the flash of brilliance that was Pasi Nurminen. He's now an official for BK Mladá Boleslav, a team that makes me wonder why we don't see the green-and-black combo more often.

Kamil Piroš -- The Thrashers' move means I can quit wondering when Piroš is going to pan out. He's apparently 32 now, which makes me feel indescribably old -- in my mind he's forever 23 or so, a bright prospect. At one point there were a surprising amount of his training camp-worn jerseys available in the Thrashers team store. I'm tempted to see if they're still there, but that might get a bit emotional. Since leaving the NHL, he's been carrying out his own Grand Tour, seeing Russia, Switzerland, Germany, Finland, and Sweden. He's playing for HV71 next season.

Richard Šmehlík -- I'm not qualified to be GM of any NHL team outside of Alberta, in part because show me any aging Czech defenseman and I'll think "great signing. Fantastic." I thought the Šmehlík signing was the kind of thing that would lead the Thrashers to the next level, blah blah. Instead he played half an uninspiring season for them, was traded for a pick that became Mike Vannelli (now of the Stavanger Oilers), then retired. I think he lives back in Buffalo. Mike Vannelli played in Norway last year. I do have a Šmehlík-signed puck, which looks classy on my bookshelf.

Helpful Tip

2011-06-24T19:20:00.002-04:00

Argh blargh, if you're in a "do a post every day" thing and you've got an event after work, WRITE YOUR POST EARLY, dumbass. I thought about writing something about the Liles trade but I find I don't have a ton to say -- nice little player and I'll miss him just in the way you miss the familiar, but "offensive defenseman" is a pretty easily-replaced position and he wasn't Bobby Orr out there.

I'm more concerned that this leaves the Avalanche with a dearth of quality defensemen for next year -- beyond Johnson, Quincey, and O'Byrne (I presume he'll be re-signed), there's the unpopular Hunwick, Cumiskey (who wasn't John-Michael Liles out there), Wilson, and the young kids who will take a while to reach their potential. So all of a sudden I've gotta thoroughly rethink yesterday's post and say that it would be just delightful if the Avalanche sign Bieksa or Pitkanen, not least because it'd be advantageous to hit the cap floor at some point. I guess I'd kind of prefer Pitkanen -- maybe because of my usual Euro bias, but he's also younger and sturdier, and I get the feeling Bieksa's a bit more likely to be overrated.

I also entertain fantasies of throwing an offer sheet at Bogosian, because I think he's gonna be pretty hot shit down the road, but the Jets are also way under the cap and would match anything. Still, I can dream.

So ok, there's my revised plan for the Avalanche's summer: get Vokoun, get Pitbieksa, don't throw a crapload of money at any over-the-hill winger, for god's sake double don't even think the words "McCabe" or "Jovanovski" to fill those vacant defensive spots, maybe pick up Klouček, probably tank again next year and pick high again and then start tearing shit up. Research backs none of this up but I've got a party to go to. Bye!

PS As I was typing this the Avalanche picked Landeskog, which is I guess a bit weird because he's not a defenseman, but what the hell. I'll take it.

Not Long Now

2011-06-23T20:01:00.003-04:00

Eight days to Colorado.

* * *

Was going to write a post on how I hope the Avalanche (again) behave responsibly in the free agent market -- I'm still not over the dual Smyth/Hannan disappointment -- but all the NHL madness today kinda took the wind out of my sails. Suffice to say I'd be happy if they get Vokoun (or a roughly equivalent goalie -- if Colorado goes into 2011-12 with Brian Elliott as the top option, I'll be super sad) and ... not much else. They've got a lot of prospects, they'll have more in a few days. There are very few appealing options on this list -- Gagne might look ok but at a much lower salary, Pitkanen would be swell but I suspect he and Bieksa are going to be this year's winners of the stupidly overpaid defenseman award. I'd like to see Fleischmann back, too, but I also know I'm an idiot where Czech/Slovak players are concerned and I'm trying not to let my fingers type SIGN HEJDA WHATEVER IT TAKES or something right now. Spend what it takes to get up to the cap, but focus on the young guys you've got, don't get stupid. I know a lot of people want to see a big splash. Here's hoping for a quiet, effective ripple.

* * *

Edited to add: after Vokoun-to-Avs, the second biggest thing I want to see in the NHL right now is Ryan Smyth-to-Flames, simply for the absolute shitfit that would ensue. I'll bring the popcorn.

Revelation Revisited #6: Frozen Peas

2011-06-22T20:36:00.004-04:00

No For An Answer: You Laugh

I was an uncritical supporter of all things O'Mahony for a long, long time, but now I can acknowledge being wrong on a few of them. Voicebox was not good. God Forgot was far worse. "A Thought Crusade" is often pretty plodding, and (gulp) some of "This Isn't Me" is kind of sappy.

All that off my chest: 20+ years after I first heard it, "You Laugh" remains my favorite early Revelation release, and top five for the label's whole history. Opening "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" onward to the Uniform Choice-slagging "About Face," this is nine minutes and change of everything I loved about hardcore. Barked vocals, buzzsaw guitars, drums that sound like the set's in the process of falling over.

This record is sufficiently imprinted on my brain that I've still got the entire lyrics memorized, putting me in good shape if anyone ever starts up No For An Answer karaoke. After Minor Threat, NFAA was one of the hardcore bands that helped shape my worldview (to the point that I kind of dismissed Uniform Choice because of "About Face," and rightly so, I must say. What an overrated band). A lot of the stuff from this era sounds at least a little bit hokey now. "You Laugh," though, is still a ferocious burst of awesome.

* * *

Things I have, in keeping with the Czechish theme of this month: a bunch of old hockey team pins, from 1960s through 1980s Czechoslovak hockey teams. I've been looking for a nice way to display these for a while -- I've struck out, so any suggestions gratefully accepted.

Top row, left to right: ZKL Zetor Brno (yeahhhhhhhhhhhh!), HC Poldi Kladno, TJ Gottwaldov, Škoda Plzeň, Spartak Hradec Králové. Bottom row: TJ Slavia Praha, Sparta Praha twice, and TJ Baník Ostrava. Not a lot to say about any of these (except for the Hradec Králové one, which shows a lion holding a "G" -- that's the city crest, exactly what you'd expect for a city named "Hradec Králové") except that I think they're pretty cool to look at.

On Living and Writing

2011-06-21T21:07:00.003-04:00

Short post tonight -- I had to work late, and now I'm wrestling with something larger: trying to reconcile my portrayals of two rather -- nay, very -- inconsistently characterized characters. It ain't easy.

I'm sometimes resistant to anything that someone says will "help with the writing." My hubris-laden (and silent) response is that I know how to write, dammit (if not always well), I just need the right atmosphere. Or motivation. Or something. All of which is bullshit and I know it, but that's a post for another time.

Anyway, this is "I'm not too big to admit that I'm sometimes wrong" day, so here are two different tools (in very different forms) that have really helped a ton with the writing. Both came to me from good friends -- cheers, MMW and Tapeleg.

In book form, let me suggest that anyone who wants to write fiction check out "The Writer's Notebook: Craft Essays From Tin House." The parts I've read are just dead on, pieces that address things that might cause you trouble, then make you feel capable of tackling them. A+.

And then there's Pomodoro, something that I guess is widespread but that I'd never heard of before Tapeleg mentioned it. The Pomodoro plugin is one hell of a big help for someone with chronic attention problems. It seems simple, but somehow, having the actual timer going is a big help. At least for me.

So thanks, M and T, for the assistance. Tomorrow: more stuff about old Czech hockey!

Atlanta's Czechs (Part 1)

2011-06-20T20:53:00.005-04:00

The brief period of furious mourning passed -- apparently, among the things we've learned over the past month and a half is that thanks to my inner strength I can indeed cope with being abandoned by a hockey team. The story of my voyage of self-discovery will be released by Random House in August, $29.95 hardcover.

But I'm not yet averse to a little nostalgia. One of the things that made the Thrashers easy to root for (for me, at least. Perhaps not you) was their willingness to sign our Slavic brothers. In their brief time in the league, the Thrashers employed (by my count) 16 Czechs and four Slovaks -- in comparison, the longer-lasting Avalanche have had only eight Czechs. The Thrashers' roster sometimes looked like I'd assembled it in a poorly-thought-out game of Eastside Hockey Manager.

A look back is in order. In their first season alone, the Thrashers had the following guys on the roster:

Patrik Štefan -- when they make the sad Thrashers movie, the Štefan pick will start it off. He would have benefited from more time in the minors, not playing in the IHL, not suffering so many concussions, not forever being known as "the guy picked in front of the Sedins." Scored 25 points in 1999-2000 -- surprisingly, that wasn't his best year. He'd broken down by 2008 and is now an agent in California.

Petr Buzek -- forever the answer to the unasked trivia question, "who was the Thrashers' first all-star," presumably picked because of his not-actually-horrible-by-Thrashers-standards -22 in 99-00. He'd been a promising prospect whose career was derailed by a nasty 1995 car accident; 99-00 was his only full NHL season. He played only 14 games for the Thrashers over the next two seasons before being dealt to Calgary -- after 1 1/2 part-time years there he returned to the Czech Republic. He's now in management with Dukla Jihlava.

František Kaberle -- If you have anything bad to say about this guy, don't say it 'round here. Came over from the Kings in a mid-season trade, was one of the Thrashers' steadiest defensemen in the early years. Losing him for nothing was the start of the downward spiral. Won the Cup with Carolina in 2006, he's been back in the Czech Republic for a few years -- he'll play for Plzeň next season. With Tomáš winning the Cup this year, the Kaberle brothers can swap stories over beers in Kladno this summer.

Martin Procházka -- Even my Czech Thrashers memory isn't infallible -- I routinely forget that he ever played in Atlanta. Racked up one assist in three games in his NHL swan song. He's split the past decade between Russia and the Czech Republic; after taking last year off, he's reportedly coming back with Kladno next season. (edit: hours after I wrote this, he signed with EV Regensburg of Germany instead.)

Vladimír Vůjtek -- Doomed from the start, I remember him best because he caught a skate blade in the face in the pre-season. After that, it's perhaps understandable that he only lasted three games before returning to Europe, where presumably skate blades stay where they belong. Also notable because a large Vůjtek photo remained on the wall of the team shop for several years after his departure. He had a curious career arc -- he'd play on the fringes of North American hockey, head back to Europe for a few years, then return to the U.S. for a cup of coffee. The Thrashers experience didn't totally put him off and he returned for a five-game stint with the Penguins four years later. After that, he collected passport stamps with appearances in Finland, Russia, Switzerland, and the Czech Republic. He's since packed it in and is now an agent in Prague.

Coming soon: part two!

Under the Wire

2011-06-19T22:21:00.002-04:00

Sneaking this in to continue my one-a-day streak. I'm exhausted and have a sore jaw after Friday's dental work, so actual "trying" resumes tomorrow. Quickie book review:

#17 -- "Football Dynamo" by Marc Bennetts

This is the kind of thing I like -- a book placing sport against a wider backdrop. In this case, it's soccer in Russia, and it's a good time -- history, corruption, vodka. Bennetts has a good sense of humor and a good ear, plus he very obviously loves the country. I'd like to see something like this written about Russia's (or any non-North American country, really) hockey.

Help Wanted

2011-06-18T12:56:00.004-04:00

Busy weekend here and a rare appearance at a Braves game tonight, so I'll keep this short. I'm more or less throwing this out to any Czechs and Slovaks who drop by -- I need some assistance on a long-term project.

I'm trying to find out whether the following hockey players are alive or dead -- if they're dead, I'm looking for a date/info on their later life.

Names are given with and without diacritics, in hopes of attracting a stray Google search.

Any assistance is greatly appreciated. Leave comments here or contact me at postpessimist at gmail dot com. Thanks.

Otakar Cimrman (a/k/a Otto, Ota, Oto, Otik). Born May 1, 1925. Defenseman. Played for Chomutov 1950-63, appeared in 1956 Olympics.

Miroslav Nový (Miroslav Novy). Born October 1, 1930, in Prague. Defenseman. Played for Sparta Praha, Motorlet Praha, Chomutov, ATK Praha, I. ČLTK Praha. Appeared in 1952 Olympics, 1953 and 1954 World Championships. Coached in Poland and Czechoslovakia in 1960s and 1970s.

Jiří Pokorný (Jiri Pokorny). Born June 16, 1932. Forward. Played for Pardubice, Sparta Praha, and Tilburg (Netherlands). Coached in Netherlands and Germany after retirement.

Zdeněk Pýcha (Zdenek Pycha). Born May 29, 1926, in Prague. Defenseman. Played for Stadion Podoli, Sparta Praha, ATK Praha. Appeared in 1952 Olympics.

Miloslav Šašek (Miloslav Sasek). Born March 25, 1933. Forward. Played for Plzeň in 1950s and 1960s. Appeared in 1957 and 1958 World Championships. (UPDATE: still alive, appeared at HC Plzeň ceremony in recent months)

František Schwach (Frantisek Schwach). Date of birth unknown. Forward. Played for Plzeň and TJ Gottwaldov (now Zlín) in 1950s and 1960s. Appeared in 1958 World Championships. (UPDATE: still alive, lives near Zlín)

Vilém Václav (Vilem Vaclav). Probably born December 16, 1925, though some sources give year as 1926. Forward. Played for Plzeň. Appeared in 1957 World Championships. (UPDATE: passed away in 2011, date uncertain)

Miloslav Vinš (Miloslav Vins). Born December 3, 1923. Forward. Played for Plzeň. Appeared in 1957 World Championships. (UPDATE: passed away several years back, probably in 2004 or 2005)

Jozef Záhorský (Jozef Zahorsky). Born January 6, 1929, in Bratislava. Goalie. Played for Slovan Bratislava, ATK Praha, Plzeň, Sparta Praha. Appeared in 1952 Olympics, 1953 World Championships. (UPDATE: reportedly passed away in 2002, though I've been unable to find any hard information)

Long shots, eh? Thanks to anyone who can help -- you'll get the coveted PPA Medal of Honor.

S is for Sparta

2011-06-17T15:10:00.005-04:00

It's the most iconic symbol in Czech club hockey, one of the most iconic in Europe: Sparta's "S." Through the years, it's always been there in some form -- no other Czech team matches Sparta for consistency.

One of my favorite jerseys, this is a Sparta ČKD Praha jersey from the late 1970s. It's almost definitely from 1977-78 or 1978-79. It's hammered, it's got stories to tell, it's got character.

Some luck here: I'm usually at a loss when jerseys don't have names on the back, and old Czech rosters are few and far between. But thanks to the relatively certain dates we can establish that this was probably worn by defenseman Miroslav Kuneš. He played for Sparta from 1969 through 1982, and in all the photos I've seen, he was wearing number 5. Numbers didn't change much in the old Czech leagues so I think this must be his.¹

Judging by the numbers, Kuneš could handle himself. He was generally among the team leaders in penalty minutes. This jersey has been through the wars. Repairs are numerous, and the right sleeve looks like eventually they just gave up on trying to repair it. This is probably the most hammered jersey I own. It's unlikely that I'll ever see any late '70s Sparta games on DVD, so I can only imagine.

The shoulder/sleeve writing says "Transgas" -- I'm guessing it was the state-run gas company. This only appeared for a few years and helped date the jersey.

I always think of Sparta as the pre-eminent Czech team, but they went from 1954 to 1990 without a title. Brno, Dukla Jihlava, and Kladno racked up the titles in the meantime, with Pardubice, Košice, and Vítkovice also winning at times. Think of the New York Yankees going 36 years without a title. Actually, don't, Sparta doesn't deserve that.

In that vast empty space, a lot of great players never tasted glory -- players like Jiří Holeček, Jan Havel, Jiří Hrdina, ... and Miroslav Kuneš. He is still involved with the club, on the management side, so hopefully he's had a chance to share in the joy of the six titles they've won in the past 21 years.

^{1 - edit/addendum: minutes after hitting "publish post," I found a photo of Kuneš ... wearing number 7. It's from fairly early in his career, though, and he was definitely wearing 5 later. Still think it's his.}

Lemons

2011-06-16T20:30:00.004-04:00

Amalfi coast, Italy, 2004

I've got nothin' tonight. There's a post I want to do, but I don't have the energy to do it justice. So, tomorrow. In the meantime: lemons.

That's not enough? Fine, fine. Pula, Croatia, too. 2003.

When Minnows Swam With Sharks

2011-06-15T19:09:00.010-04:00

Looking at it from decades on, Czechoslovakian hockey post-World War II has something of a Wild West feel. Between 1945 and 1957, the top league had (year-by-year) 12 teams, 11, 12, 8, 8, 8, 18, 21, 18, 16, 15, 14, 12. Divisions ranged from one to three. The two most prominent pre-war teams, LTC Praha and I.ČLTK Praha, were quickly dissolved, merged, and neutered. On paper, it looks like anybody's game.

For the most part, though, the anarchy masked some simple truths: if you weren't from one of the big cities, you weren't going to win. In those years, the champions were all from Prague, Ostrava, Brno, and České Budějovice.¹ That state of affairs mostly lasted until army-backed Dukla Jihlava started its spell of dominance in the late 1960s.

One team, though, came close to busting in a decade and a half earlier -- and it may have been the least likely team in Czechoslovakia.

* * *

Chomutov, as far as I can tell, didn't have a team before World War II. I have a book from 1954-55 (most of these images come from it) called "10 Years of Ice Hockey in Chomutov" -- another from 2005 is called "60 Years of Chomutov Hockey." So if there was much going on pre-war, these books are ignoring it. Chomutov's club² first appeared in 1945-46, on a very low level -- playing exhibitions, as far as I can tell.

I don't know much about Chomutov the city, except that it's fairly small. According to Wikipedia it had about 30,000 people in 1938 -- it has 50,000 now, still smaller than Boulder. What's more, it's not really near any large population centers, so there was no spillover to draw from. Logically, they should have stayed in the lower levels.

Chomutov rose through the ranks, though, as the Czechoslovakian leagues gradually took a new shape. In 1949-50, they were in the equivalent of the second division. And when the top league went from eight to 18 teams in 1951-52, Chomutov were one of the promotees. Most of them could only aspire to be also-rans. Chomutov, though, competed from the start. And it was largely down to one man.

* * *

Miroslav Klůc, center, in action against RH Brno³. Other players, L-R: Bohumil Sláma, Vlastimil Bubník⁴, Otakar Cimrman, Slavomír Bartoň

There's a commonly-repeated statistic that Miroslav Klůc scored 226 goals in the 1949-50 season. That's true in the most technical sense, but that includes all matches the team played, including exhibitions (which made up most of the schedule at that point). Think if an AHL team played a local beer league team, and that's what Chomutov was doing. The schedule for that year includes a 32-2 win over "Atlantic Praha," a 21-5 win over Roudnice, and a 26-4 win over Jičín. Miroslav's brother, Josef, is listed as scoring 131 goals that season.

Klůc's achievements don't need exaggeration. It's hard to determine these things for certain, but it seems like at least offensively, he and Vladimír Zábrodský were the top players of the early 1950s. Between the 1951-52 season (when Chomutov entered the top flight) and 1956-57, either Klůc or Zábrodský won the scoring championship each year.

Right out of the gate, Chomutov were a force. In 1951-52, with Klůc leading the league in goals⁵, they finished first in the Czechoslovakian league's Group A, going 9-1 in the regular season. Unfortunately that didn't carry through to the finals, where they went 0-4-1 to finish last of the six teams participating.

The next year, they finished second in Group A, going 10-2. Klůc led the league in scoring with 33 goals. Chomutov tied for the highest-scoring team in the league with 100 goals. They went 2-3 in the final, to finish fourth.

The same season, Klůc got his only invitation to the World Championships team -- he scored two goals. It's a bit confusing as to why he rarely got called to the national team (he'd have one more prominent appearance), and I'm short on theories.

Next year was an off year for both club and Klůc, but in 1954-55, Chomutov finished second in Group B at 9-3-2. Klůc led the league with 25 goals. Chomutov was the highest-scoring team with 89 goals. They went 1-2 in the final, finishing third. And then the next season they seemed to be moving up: 1955-56 saw them finish first in Group B at 12-1-1. Klůc led the league in scoring again, and got his only Olympic appearance, scoring twice in Cortina. Things were looking bright.

Cortina Olympics: Brno's Bartoň, Chomutov's Klůc, Chomutov's Cimrman

* * *

Unfortunately it was the high-water mark.

For the 1956-57 season, the Czech league slimmed down to 14 teams, and eliminated the groups and the round-robin final. False causality, I know, but I don't know what else changed that year: Chomutov finished an uninspired seventh, well out of the running. A bit of a comeback the next year, as they went 13-8-1 to finish fourth, but the 35-year-old Klůc scored only eight goals.

It proved to be his swan song with the team. There were -- according to the 2005 Chomutov book -- problems in Chomutov's management, and disputes with Klůc. One of them was over his coaching -- he served as player-coach for several seasons, and management apparently decided that he should concentrate on one. Whatever the problem (and however it worked - I'm not sure how player transfers operated in Czechoslovakia), in 1958 Klůc left Chomutov. He traveled just 15 miles northeast, joining second-division Jiskra Litvínov. One season as player/coach and he got them up to the top league; then in 1959-60, Litvínov's first season in the top league, Klůc regained some of the old magic and scored 23 goals. He kept playing until 1963, at age 40. He's still revered in Litvínov -- they've never been back down to the second division since that season they earned promotion. When Litvínov retired #14 in honor of their greatest player, Ivan Hlinka, they saw fit to dually honor an earlier holder of the number.

* * *

Chomutov's time in the sun was almost done. Post-Klůc, they limped on in the lower half of the league for a few years, but after a last-place finish in 1963-64, they were relegated. They made it back to the top league in 1967-68, but only lasted that season -- ditto one more promotion in 1973-74. Since that last one, they haven't made it back to the top, even after the post-Communism changes. They're now firmly established as a top second-division club -- they're always at the top of the next flight down, never quite moving up.

Miroslav Klůc is still alive, living in the Prague area. 88 years old as of this writing, one of the best players no one's ever heard of, on a team that caught a little bit of magic for a few years.

* * *

Research for this article came from "10 let ledního hokeje v Chomutově,"⁶ "60 let Chomutovského hokeje," and historie.hokej.cz.

Most images came from the "10 let" book -- the 1956 Olympic photo was sent to me by Miroslav Klůc, the Litvínov retired numbers photo from Miloš Tarant.

* * *

^{1 - Kladno finally broke the monopoly in 1958-59, but it's only a few miles from Prague so could almost be considered a suburb.}

^{2 - I like to give the full names of Czech clubs where possible. I also like hanging on to my sanity too, though, and in the years covered here (according to the more recent book) the club was called ČSK Chomutov, Sokol II Chomutov, ZSJ Spojocel Chomutov, TJ Sokol Hutě Chomutov, TJ Baník Chomutov, and VTŽ Chomutov. So simply "Chomutov" it will be. If you want to know more about the naming history, congratulations, we should probably hang out.}

^{3 - forerunners to today's Kometa Brno, whoop whoop!}

^{4 - brother of Augustin, yes}

^{5 - 1950s Czechoslovakian goal leaders are a bit problematic. In years where there was a playoff tournament, that's included in the goal total. So when Chomutov hit those finals, Klůc got an extra three-four games to score in. Nothing we can do about it, all these years later.}

^{6 - this is an interesting book, in part because the author is listed as -- Miroslav Klůc. Perhaps he really was the whole team in the 1950s. It's got a number of odd little cartoons throughout, including the one below.}

* * *

This doesn't really fit in anywhere, but I had to share it. The joke is very basically, if I'm translating right:

"Heavens, what is Otakar Cimrman (Chomutov defenseman) doing, hanging a steel ball off his foot?"

"He's so fast that he has to do that to keep from going offsides!"

I have to think that in 1950s Czechoslovakia, a hockey player with a ball cuffed to his leg would bring up less humorous images.

Calendar Man

2011-06-14T19:27:00.003-04:00

Ahhh, to be young and in Colorado again. I'd estimate that in the late '90s, I put about 50% of my earnings into buying Avalanche merchandise. They were really the biggest thing in my life for a few years, and while I wouldn't want that skewed perspective back, there is a certain nostalgia for the innocence and passion.

This came from a late-1996 game, when we could still think of an imminent dynasty in Denver. The Avs' wives were selling team calendars at McNichols Arena -- Stephane Yelle, on injured reserve at the time, was signing them.

Most of the photos are players-with-families, warm and friendly shots. A couple of the single guys, though, got goofy.

René Corbet (above) remains one of my all-time favorite Avs, one of the most entertaining energy players I've ever watched. He'd fight anyone (winning none) and score. I still think the trade sending him and Robyn Regehr to Calgary for Theo Fleury is the worst Avalanche trade ever, even worse than Drury/Yelle for Derek Morris and spare parts.

Then there's Eric Lacroix, below, who was already laboring under the "general manager's son" tag and chose to compound it as the runaway winner of the "photo most likely to get you shit in the locker room" contest.

These are still the guys that I forever think of as the "true" Avalanche (Avalanches?) -- I see Matt Duchene and still think "Ricci's number," Erik Johnson's 6 draws an instinctive "Wolanin." 16 is forever Warren Rychel to me and I didn't wasn't even a fan. Not long ago I had a flashback dream about Tom Fitzgerald getting traded to the Avalanche. I hadn't consciously thought about Fitzgerald in years.

Thankfully, there are a few numbers that are eternal, and I won't have to worry about them getting usurped by someone new. Like good old #21, here, showing us how they eat breakfast in Örnsköldsvik.

Ephemera

2011-06-13T20:26:00.010-04:00

Stuff dug up in a vain attempt to get organized:

Photo of the 1959 Czechoslovakia World Championship team, sent to me a few years back by forward Bohumil Prošek (kneeling third from left, slight pen mark pointing to him). Two down from him, far left kneeling is Jaroslav Jiřík, who a decade later would become the first Czechoslovak-trained player in the NHL.

Two photos of defenseman Jaromír Bünter, sent to me by Mr. Bünter. He played in the 1956 Olympics.

Photo of Litvínov old-timers ceremony, sent to me by former forward Miloš Tarant.

Dukla Jihlava statistical guide from the 1972-73 season.

1973-74 Sparta ČKD Praha team photo, sent to me by defenseman Josef Horešovský (1968 and 1972 Olympics). Horešovský is dead center of the middle row.

Photo of František Kaberle junior and František Kaberle senior.

German cigarette card, showing the 1936 Olympic match between Czechoslovakia and France. Czechoslovakia won 2-0. No idea who wore what number so I can't identify any of the players.

1987-88 Tesla Pardubice team photo. A couple future NHLers here. Far left of bottom row, wearing goofy headband: Jiří Šejba, who briefly appeared with the Sabres a few years later. Third from right of the same row, similarly wearing goofy headband: Dominik Hašek, who made far more appearances for the Sabres.

Inexplicable

2011-06-12T11:40:00.008-04:00

Ok, this is a hard one to figure out.

The title is (more or less) "From the American Ballpark," and the joke goes roughly:

"Reporter: What's your name?

Player: Buzcinski - B as in bits, U as in hit, Z as in killed, C as in shreds, I as in invalid..."

Obviously, the translation ruins the whole "U as in," "Z as in" effect, but more curiously -- why is a Czechoslovakian sports magazine in 1955 running a cartoon about American football? While there had been at least one such game played in Prague (details are here -- I'd never heard about this before I started looking this up) I really don't think it was at all common. Czechs would have related to such a cartoon the way I'd relate to one about, say, cricket. I suppose the humor in the joke would be universal, but why set it against the background of an unfamiliar sport? Was football seen as quintessentially American back then? I kind of doubt it -- I'd think baseball would have been more representative (though unlikely to produce the scene seen here).

My guess is that they cribbed it from an American publication -- I can't quite make out the artist's name, but it looks like the first name is either Fred or Ford, both American style. Or, perhaps it was an American living in Prague. I've got a few issues of this magazine and I'll have to go and see if this was a regular thing.

Then there's this, which makes me laugh a bit. It's from an article headlined "Prima donnas and traders" -- the player on the left, with his fancy-dan mustache, is obviously a prima donna. The fellow on the right is obviously a trader. I don't know why he's wall-eyed. The article's a bit long and I haven't tried translating it yet.

This is most of the cover to the issue, from January 28, 1955. The full thing is too big to fit on my scanner. That's a fellow we've mentioned before, Vladimir Zábrodský, making a defenseman look stupid. While his reputation in the former Czechoslovakia is a bit mixed, Zábrodský was undoubtedly a massive talent. In most of the photos I've seen of him, he stands out -- players are giving him room (or he's creating it), and he looks stronger, more confident than the others. That sounds a bit like projection, but in this case I don't think it is. I think if I were to show a photo of a game featuring Zábrodský to someone who had never seen hockey, they'd immediately recognize him as a star.

* * *

Hey, let's do a little link catch-up, in the name of spreading the word about good sites. First off, I've been remiss in not giving props to my chum Michelle's Street Dog Dispatch, chronicling her adventures in Southeast Asia. She's a hell of a writer -- go by and encourage her to do more of it.

Then, on the Czech hockey front, something sorely needed: the Czech Hockey Report, an English-language site covering hockey in my favorite country. I think this is the first English blog covering the Extraliga since Vak Fan gave up the ghost, and I'm thrilled to find it -- wish I had known about it during the 2010-11 season. Switching sports, staying in the region -- the Slavic Football Union, with a variety of writers covering soccer all over Eastern Europe. It's good stuff. Finally, The Other 87 -- soccer again with some really interesting features, in particular the multi-part article on Antonio Cassano, and this post on Eric Cantona. All good sites, give 'em a look!

The Incident at U Herclíků

2011-06-11T19:15:00.003-04:00

Perhaps it's time to nominate a new name for the title of "toughest player ever." I don't know how many penalty minutes he accumulated in his career. I don't know if he ever threw a check. I don't have any idea how he played. But Augustin Bubník survived events that would have crushed many -- and then he returned to play hockey.

* * *

In early 1950, Gustav Bubník's career must have looked pretty good. He was one of the top Czechoslovakian league's brightest stars at just 21, the middle of three talented brothers. He'd been an integral part of the 1948 Olympic team that took silver, and the 1949 team that won the World Championships. He'd followed that up by leading the league in goals, scoring 26 for ATK Praha in the 1949-50 season.

But there were dark clouds looming over the Czechoslovak team. Defections were a concern for the authorities -- players such as Victor Lonsmín, Zdeněk and Drahomír Jirotka, Oldřich Kučera. and Milan Matouš had already left. Most recently, Bubník's national teammate Zdeněk Marek stayed behind in Stockholm after the 1949 championships, eventually ending up in the United States.

Bubník had his chance to do the same. In 1948, his touring LTC Praha team voted in somewhat shadowy circumstances on whether to stay behind on a trip to Switzerland. They decided no^{1 2} and returned to Czechoslovakia. A few years later, they probably regretted that decision.

* * *

It's just about impossible, at least with the resources at my fingertips, to determine just what happened on March 13, 1950. Bubník is the only surviving principal. Another hockey player, Vladimír Zábrodský³, wasn't there, but might have insight but if he's spoken on it it's not readily available. All others are dead.

Bubník and his countrymen weren't given the chance to defend their world title in 1950. The flimsy official reason was a that Czechoslovakia was protesting the alleged refusal to grant visas to Czech journalists, an excuse that dissolves under the simplest scrutiny. The authorities may have been weary and wary of defections, they may have been getting in line with the rest of the Eastern Bloc nations.

On March 13, much of the team was gathered at the U Herclíků pub. Zábrodský wasn't among them -- some have hinted that he may have sold out his teammates and been responsible for what subsequently transpired, but he was known as a teetotaler, and given how popular he appeared to be with some teammates, he may just not have been invited. Again, no one knows.

In any case, the visa excuse was broadcast on the radio as the players gathered, and they responded rowdily and angrily -- calls of "Death to Communism" were heard, not something you wanted to shout in 1950 Prague. And at some point, others in the pub revealed themselves as state agents. Punches were thrown, arrests were made, and 12 Czechoslovakian stars were in the brig.

Bubník suffered torture and worked on the Czechoslovakian equivalent of chain gangs even before he was formally sentenced. Once the trials (a formality) were concluded, one of Czechoslovakia's brightest young stars was sentenced to 14 years in prison, the second-longest sentence after star goalie Bohumil Modrý, who got 15 years.

The sentence included work in uranium mines. An aside here: uranium mining is not good for you. It doesn't promote long life -- the New Yorker had an excellent article about it last year, and bear in mind those were people going to it voluntarily. The experience was sufficiently debilitating that it's widely blamed for Modrý's 1963 death.

Bubník made it through, surviving long enough to see Czechoslovakian President Klement Gottwald's death and a subsequent slight loosening under Antonín Zápotocký. An amnesty was declared in 1955 -- Bubník and his teammates were pardoned. And then, after torture and forced uranium mining -- most resumed playing hockey.

* * *

Who knows what Bubník could have done if he hadn't lost five years of his twenties right as he was emerging as a star. As it was -- he slotted right back in with Spartak Brno, then moved on to Motorlet Praha, Slovan Bratislava, and Litvínov before an injury -- apparently to the spine -- ended his career in the early 1960s.

Later that decade, he moved to Finland and began coaching the national team. He helped take Finnish hockey to a new level. In 1967, he led the Finns to their first international victory against a major hockey power -- Czechoslovakia. The next year, the Bubník-led Finns defeated Canada at the Olympics.

Perhaps realizing that it was better to have him on their side, the Czechoslovakian government "rehabilitated" him in 1968. Bubník returned home in 1969, and coached Škoda Plzeň for a couple years, then coached off and on throughout the 1970s.

* * *

Bubník is still alive and by all accounts quite robust at age 82. He's one of the final links to a fascinating chapter in hockey's history, the last survivor of one of the game's darkest moments. He's a member of two halls of fame, in the Czech Republic and Finland. Not a household name, but a fascinating man nonetheless.

* * *

(two excellent links for further reading: a straight forward account of the arrests and trials here, and a lengthy interview with Bubník here. Both were invaluable in writing this.

^{1 - the vote was either 8 or 9 against staying to 6 for. According to Bubník, Vladimír Zábrodský was the go-between on the discussions and cast a vote against after the Swiss-based organizers of the plan reneged on promises. Zábrodský's brother Oldřich did stay, playing in Switzerland for a few years and eventually ending up in Belgium.}

^{2 - In the Lonsmín article, I suggested that this was the same time when Lonsmín defected. Further research suggests that's not the case although I'm still not sure.}

^{3 - about whom more at another time}

Another Hero Down

2011-06-10T14:44:00.004-04:00

Patrick Leigh Fermor, dead at 96.

~~I was perhaps the only person on earth who believed he would finish~~ And the article says that we'll see the last book in the trilogy that started with "A Time of Gifts" and continued with "Between the Woods and the Water." Those two books are simply beautiful. If you haven't read them, and possess an ounce of interest in the world beyond your neighborhood, do yourself a favor.

(edited because I'm very obviously a moron who didn't read to the end of the Guardian obit.)

10 Years Ago

2011-06-09T19:57:00.004-04:00

Lazy post tonight. I had ambitions, but work wrung me out like an old rag, and the other things I was planning require some research.

So: ten years since the Avs' last Stanley Cup. Canucks and Blues and Kings fans are, I know, weeping for me. I remember the night pretty well -- I was still working the graveyard shift, so I watched the first period at home, listened to the second period on the radio en route to work, watched third period at work. Thankfully my supervisor that night was a diehard Bruins fan -- he delayed a meeting so that we could see Bourque get the Cup.

I had a bit of bad luck with Avalanche Stanley Cup wins -- saw that one at work, saw 1996 exhausted on my parents' couch the night before starting a new job just after moving back to Colorado. That one left me almost dumbfounded; the Avalanche were still something new and odd, I wasn't used to them, I hadn't gone through any pain. Krupp scored his goal. I looked quizzically at the TV, watched the celebration with some pleasure, then went to bed. 2001 was, in retrospect, more satisfying. We'd gone through all the "next dynasty" talk, built up a healthy hate of the Red Wings, a healthy dislike of the Stars, and then it all came back around.

As I write this -- in mid-2011, for anyone checking my hard drive after the apocalyptic war -- the Avalanche don't look too close to a Stanley Cup (talk to me in three years). Hopefully I'm back in the homeland for the next one. I'm overdue for a proper celebration.

Good Thing of the Day

2011-06-08T16:25:00.001-04:00

Roman Turek and giant penguin, circa 1996.

Profiles in Courage

2011-06-08T13:28:00.001-04:00

Couldn't let this one pass unremarked -- someone named, uh, "Generic Viagra" added this comment on an old post:

in my town a similar building is abandoned, the drug addicts are there and smoke many drugs!I think that this is really good!

I salute you, sir/madam.

The Unbearable Lightness of Michal Sýkora

2011-06-08T09:15:00.003-04:00

(Rejected titles: "Sýkora on Trial," "I Served Michal Sýkora," "Sýkora Is on the Roof")

I don't have much time for the Philadelphia Flyers -- probably because the man most associated with the team is this charmer, probably also because you heard so much about the team in the 1990s even though they never won anything. Nonetheless they've had a few guys I really liked over the years (Pronger, Hextall, that Pletka kid) and for a team that's always seemed suspicious of Euros, they've had a whole bunch of Czechs.

Thus this, snagged on eBay a few years back. No points for guessing why I found it irresistible.

Roman Čechmánek was one of two big, flaky Czech goalies named "Roman" around the same time, and like Turek, I had a soft spot for him. The Flyers' treatment of him was pretty abominable -- while he was inconsistent in the playoffs, he got zero help from his teammates around that time, and the Flyers haven't had a goalie as good since. I admit that I'm a Čechmánek apologist, but there were a lot of passengers on those early-'00s Flyers teams, and he's unfairly taken the heat since. He was never the joke he was subsequently made out to be -- anyone who thinks Brian Boucher or Robert Esche was better is certifiably insane and should not be allowed to roam the streets.

Then, Michal Sýkora: one of those eternal frustrations, by then tempting his fourth and final NHL team. Big (6'5", 225) and with a scoring touch in juniors, he'd shown signs of breaking through in 1995-96, but then spent the next several years bouncing from team to team, then NHL to AHL, then North America to Europe. 2000-01 saw him returning to the NHL after a year and a half with Sparta Praha -- in part-time duty with the Flyers he was decent but unspectacular, and afterwards he was back to the Czech Republic.

I'm no chess expert, but I think it's just about impossible to get the board into this setup. One might almost think this was staged in the service of a silly pun.

The season this came out, 2000-01, marked the Flyers debuts of both Čechmánek and Sýkora -- for Čechmánek, it was the start to an NHL career, for Sýkora an end. Čechmánek went on to three good but tumultuous seasons with Philly -- he won the Flyers' team MVP trophy two out of the three years he was there, and added the Jennings Trophy in 2002-03, but also blew up at his teammates in the 2002 playoffs and never got them to the Stanley Cup. He spent one season with Los Angeles, generally the Last Chance Saloon for NHL goalies in those days, then spent a few years dividing time between the Czech Republic, Germany and Sweden before calling it a day in 2009.

Sýkora returned to his hometown Pardubice after his sole Flyers season, and played four more seasons there. He and Čechmánek did team up once more, on the 2002 Olympic team. He only suited up for HC Pardubice twice in the 2004-05 season, and that marked the end of his career. I've been told he runs a pub in Pardubice now -- if anyone knows (I know a couple people from Pardubice drop by here), fill me in, as I'd like to get this signed.

Krujë, Albania

2011-06-07T21:34:00.006-04:00

Albania fell 2-0 to Bosnia-Herzegovina in Euro 2012 qualifying today -- I'm not up to the math at the moment but I'd guess that all but ends any hopes of making it to the tournament.

In sadness, and because I don't have time for a proper post tonight, I give you photos of Krujë circa 2005.

I think of Albania often, and hope circumstances take me back there soon.

I Wear This One to Parties

2011-06-06T18:39:00.004-04:00

Back when I actively collected jerseys, Petr Tenkrát was a white whale for me. When I started, focusing on fringe Czech NHLers, I figured his jerseys would be easy to track down. Two seasons bouncing around the NHL and AHL (this was before his one season return to the NHL with the Bruins) meant jerseys with several different teams. But I couldn't... find... any.

Why's Tenk so hard to find? Apparently the guy's worshiped like a god in Finland, near as I can tell. While he's played in the U.S., Russia, Sweden, and the Czech Republic, he's seen his greatest success with Finnish team Kärpät Oulu (Oulu Weasels!). There's a pretty decent jersey collecting culture in Finland, and folks there had snapped up all the Tenkráts.

It became more and more frustrating, occasionally tracking down a jersey, then arriving moments too late as it went off with another Finnish collector. No stranger to craftiness, I enlisted a Finnish friend to help me out -- but he ran into the same brick walls. He'd find someone selling a Tenkrát that hadn't been on the market before -- but the person would back off, or ask a ridiculous price, or something.

Finally, one day I woke up and found an e-mail -- he had one. The guy was waiting on me. He was ready to sell. And that's how I ended up with this:

A Petr Tenkrát Kärpät home jersey, worn in a late 2000s tournament (which is apparently why he's wearing #17 instead of his more familiar #62). One of my favorite jerseys, behind only the Kloučeks and the vintage Czechoslovakia jerseys.

It's a busy jersey, lots going on here. I'm no longer bothered by ads on jerseys -- I prefer them without, but if I'm going to get really bent about ads on jerseys I should carry it to its logical conclusion and get upset about ads on boards, jumbotrons, programs. The back has a sublimated number but the letters in Tenkrát's name are rather rubbery, training camp style.

The collar means it's suitable dress for formal outings.¹

A close-up of the weasel, turning to berate his tail. It's a Tackla jersey, one of the only post-1990 ones I've seen. They're still around but it looks like they focus more on hockey pants. Oulu's one of the teams they list as partners, so maybe that's why this is a Tackla.

Tenkrát is back in the Czech Republic this coming season, with HC Sparta Praha. Last year, he played with Kärpät (gosh, I'm getting tired of copy-pasting the umlauted version) after a few disappointing seasons in Sweden, and promptly put up his best numbers in a few years.

The reason for putting this one up now -- as noted before, he played one season with the Bruins, scoring 14 points in 64 games. As a favor to a friend, I put up a former Canuck's jersey -- now I'm doing the same for an ex-Bruin. All in the name of spreading out the luck and extending the series.

As always, the jersey bio concept is a Tapeleg creation. Go bug him to do some more jersey posts.

^{1 - I thought I'd used that joke once before, but apparently not.}

1969

2011-06-05T19:38:00.003-04:00

Know your hockey history: found this on YouTube while I was searching for something else. Arguably the most political hockey game in history, Czechoslovakia meets the Soviet Union in 1969, the year after the Soviet invasion. It's all in Swedish and Slovakian, but some things transcend language -- check out #5 in blue (think it's Jaroslav Holík, Bobby's dad) after the Czechoslovakia goal at :41.

Outside the Perimeter

2011-06-05T11:54:00.004-04:00

That's an Atlanta geography reference, and if you aren't familiar with the city you won't get it, so if you aren't familiar with the city let me just say I don't go there often. A friend of mine once equated "Outside the Perimeter" with "Here There Be Dragons" on old maps, and that's about right.

But that's where you've gotta go if you want to see the Atlanta Silverbacks play soccer, and that's what I was doing last night. So.

There may be a bit of "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" in this. The Silverbacks have played (or, last year, not played) at a variety of levels for years, but I'd never been to a game before this year. My feelings about the Thrashers' doom have shifted from "fuck Winnipeg, fuck the NHL" to "it's all my fault because I didn't go to every game ever" (plus a healthy dose of "I hope they name the team the 'Winnipeg Whiteout'"), so there I was last night, supporting the 'backs for the second time this season.

I don't really get the U.S. league soccer structure -- I know it gets some people really exercised, but I spend enough time worrying about U.S. foreign policy, Balkan politics, and hockey that I don't really need to add another thing to the list. Basically, from what I can tell, the Silverbacks' league -- the NASL -- is a couple levels (of talent -- not necessarily organizational) below the MLS, which is in turn a whole bunch of levels below pretty much any European league.

Who cares. It's a lot of fun. A Silverbacks match (this was my second of the season) is along the lines of a county fair or a high school baseball match -- you come out, you drink beer (and eat food -- the steak tacos I had last night were the best thing I've ever had at a sporting event), you enjoy the weather (Atlanta summer nights get bearable just about the time the Silverbacks start playing), you watch some soccer.

The Silverbacks, alas, aren't doing too well. They've yet to record their first NASL win, and they've only scored goals in three of nine matches this season. In the stating the really obvious department, finishing is their problem -- they dominated possession last night, and a couple players (Lucas Paulini and ex-MLSer Raphael http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifCox) looked far more skilled than anyone on Minnesota, but they still came out on the wrong end of a 2-0 score.

But who cares? (well, the Silverbacks, presumably.) It's a nice small-town feeling in a big city -- the two Silverbacks games I've made it to were tons of fun ($2.50 beer helps -- you'd be amazed how much better Heineken tastes when it's $2.50). There are rumors that Atlanta's about to take a step up in the soccer world -- I'd support that, of course, even though putting long-term bets on Atlanta expansion teams only leads to heartbreak. For now, Atlantans, consider giving the Silverbacks a shot.

What We Write About When We Write About Sports

2011-06-05T07:00:00.004-04:00

Appetizer post here, as blogger needs to get going to the gym. It's also something of a bridge, as the longer post coming later in the morning is about soccer -- I think most of the people arriving at this blog right now are more interested in hockey, so a warning of some sort is probably in order.

Anyway, a public service announcement: if you have any interest in the craft of writing about sports -- on whatever level, blogs, mainstream media, spray paint on the side of an abandoned warehouse -- check out The Blizzard. The first proper issue just came out and it's great. (An "issue zero" came out a few months back and it was great.) It has three important things to share with all of us: 1) it's possible to write thoughtfully about sports 2) there are many different subjects to write about in connection with sports 3) sportswriting and literature are not mutually exclusive.

It may not be for everyone -- but if you're interested in aiming higher with your writing, give this a look. (it's got a pay-what-you-like thing in place for downloads -- I liked issue zero enough that I paid for a hard copy subscription) I realize that some of the things you take away from this can't be applied to hockey. Soccer's global reach is vaster than any other team sport; ditto, its different international cultures interact a lot more than those of hockey. And I do realize that there are not many markets for thoughtful sports literature (I'm curious about Grantland, but also pretty dubious), and even when there are, hockey is number 967 on the priority list.

Nonetheless. Look over the Blizzard site. If it sounds interesting, give it a try. Writing this good deserves celebration.

Ustrnul

2011-06-04T15:54:00.003-04:00

In some parallel universe, it worked out this way. Tomáš Klouček and Libor Ustrnul were the cornerstones of an impenetrable Thrashers defense in the latter part ofhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif the 2000s, helping propel Atlanta to playoff glory (and solidifying the team's presence in the Big Peach). Two big physical Czech defensemen, giving the Thrashers an identity they sorely needed.

Rather far-fetched, but why not. I can daydream. I'm hard-pressed to explain why I gravitate toward Czech defensemen -- I can't explain it to myself so I could hardly explain it to you. Klouček, Šlégr, Kubina, Kaberle, many more.

And Libor Ustrnul. He never made it to the NHL, never really came close (a few half-seasons in the American Hockey League), got derailed by injuries, but he from all accounts was a hard-working guy and seems like a genuinely fun and decent person in interviews. Got to like that he took time away from hockey to take care of his family -- also got to like the oddity of a Czech defenseman ending up in South Dakota.

Alas, after one season with the Rapid City Rush, he didn't catch on with the team for 2010-11 and who knows if there are any prospects for next season. I'm holding out hope, though. People -- those of you who still have a team in your city -- encourage management to SIGN LIBOR.

What I Want to See in 2011-12

2011-06-03T07:41:00.007-04:00

Longtime (just hunt around) hero-of-the-PPA Tomáš Klouček is out of contract at Barys Astana of the KHL. (which is probably a good thing for our guy, as I get the impression that Astana is only slightly more appealing than Winnipeg) Either he got squeezed out or was injured -- either way he played only 17 regular season games in 2010-11, scoring one goal and racking up a Kloučekian 65 penalty minutes.

Meanwhile, rather-arbitrarily-chosen Czech-team-of-the-PPA HC Kometa Brno completely blew a hot start (putting them in the same boat as the 2010-11 Avalanche and Thrashers -- I strive for consistency in the teams I support) and ended up in the relegation-threatened bottom four of the Extraliga. They escaped, but obviously work needs to be done.

With those two things in mind -- and since with my aforementioned anticipated free time looming this fall, I'm going to actually be trying to find Extraliga streams online (anyone have tips? Help a brother out) -- this needs to happen:

A perfect match, in the Eastside Hockey Manager game that runs about 40% of my brain. Seriously, I pretty much have quit buying jerseys, but I'd be all over a Klouček Brno like you wouldn't believe.

(longer posts to come back tomorrow.)

The Valeri Kamensky Language School

2011-06-02T20:15:00.000-04:00

"Al Bundy," Kamensky said with a thick Russian accent. "I learned a lot from him. That was a good show to learn English."
--Denver Post, November 20, 1996

This was one of the more curious statistics surrounding the initial years of the Colorado Avalanche: at least two players, Valeri Kamensky and Sandis Ozolinsh, got their primary initial English instruction from watching "Married With Children." Ozolinsh also got some from "Alf." Maybe Alexei Gusarov did too, but he was famous for not talking to the press too much.

I'm lousy with languages, and as stated a bunch of times, I'd like to learn Czech. But I mean "learn" in the sense of "wake up one day and be magically fluent in." I'm starting to think that isn't working.

It's looking like I'll have a lot of free time this autumn, though, with no local hockey team and possibly no NFL, so it might be an opportunity to put my nose to the grindstone (or as Google Translate says they say in Czech, "položil jsem nos do brus"). But I've tried just about all the major language-learning companies (except Rosetta Stone, who unaccountably don't offer Czech -- seriously, Rosetta Stone, you're telling me Welsh is more useful than Czech? Seriously?) and they've ended up collecting dust.

So tonight I tried the Kamensky route. I have a number of Czech DVDs -- a whole bunch of hockey stuff, and Miloš Forman's "Loves of a Blonde." The latter would obviously be the best choice -- trained actors speaking clearly, subtitles as needed. Instead I went with the HC České Budějovice 2004-05 highlight DVD. It has two undisputed highlights:

An opening commercial featuring a Budvar/Czechvar bottle skating and unleashing a slapshot, which has great spiritual significance for me and at least one reader of this blog...

...and Radek Dvořák (left) looking like the dude at the Quik Trip who's really eager to tell you why "Powerslave" is the best album ever.

Anyway, no suspense, watching hockey highlight videos apparently doesn't teach you Czech.

* * *

A making-me-feel-old aside: Kamensky's son is 22 years old and playing hockey in one of the lower Swiss leagues. What happened to my youth?

The Man Who Wasn't There

2011-06-01T12:05:00.001-04:00

I’m not a betting man, but I’ll put money down that you’ve never heard of Victor Lonsmín. I’d never heard of him until a few weeks back, and I specialize in Czech hockey players. In the history of hockey, he’s a footnote to a footnote to a footnote.

This photo (via here) is one of the only images out there of him. It’s long after his hockey career, a good 11 or 12 years after the last confirmed time that he played in a high level match.

The facts are sparse. His name was spelled both Victor and Viktor depending on the year and location. He was born in 1920 or 1921. Where isn’t certain, but somewhere near Prague is a good bet. He played hockey. He defected in the late 1940s. He came to the U.S. He died in 1990, and that we know for certain.

He doesn’t look very happy in that photo – but I’m projecting. Projecting is all I can really do with Victor Lonsmín.

* * *

International hockey is largely ignored on these shores. 1972 and 1980 resonate, and the tournaments get interest when North Americans win, but otherwise they’re an afterthought. European teams are stock villains in action movies, there only as a foil to the good guys – if they somehow win, then the competition suddenly no longer matters.

But there are infinite stories hiding out there. Players and teams and countries touched directly by the grimmest forces of the 20th century. There’s more to hockey than the stolid farm boy on a backyard rink.

* * *

He's a shade, he's a cipher. We don't know what kind of hockey player he was -- he played forward, that's all we know. We don't know how big he was, but photos make him look tall and lean -- I picture him with a loping stride, deceptively slow. We don't know how good he was, but probably not bad -- he lasted several years with LTC Praha, the premier Czechoslovakian team at the time. He played on the 1939 Czechoslovakia (by this time Nazi-occupied) World Championships team, and apparently scored two goals -- that's the only statistic we have from his career. Once Czechoslovakia was dismembered, he was selected to the "Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia" team.

According to records -- and for pre-1950s Czechoslovakian hockey, they are of dubious reliability -- he started playing for LTC Praha¹ in the 1937-38 season, when he would have been 16 or 17. That season was only the second of an organized Czechoslovakian league, and we know very little about it. According to Czech records, teams played an uneven number of games -- LTC Praha played five league games, I. ČLTK Praha² played six, AC Sparta Praha (who still survive today) played four, VŠ Bratislava only two. Canadian Mike Buckna, who perhaps did more than anyone to bring Czechoslovakia to the upper levels of the hockey world, also played on LTC and led the league with 14 goals; fellow LTC forward Josef Maleček was second with 10. We don't know how many Lonsmín scored, but with or without a major contribution LTC were dominant. They won all five of their league games, outscoring opponents 33 to 1. In the final, they dispatched Sparta 5-1.

Looking at the records, LTC were almost unfairly ahead of the rest of the country. According to another source, they outscored opponents 61 to 1 the next season, winning all seven league games for another title, then took the treble in 1939-40. I. ČLTK finally broke the monopoly the next season, by which point World War II was in full swing and we can only guess the shape Czechoslovakian hockey was in. Slovakia was an independent nation, leaving LTC with less in the way of top-flight opponents.

Through these years, Lonsmín kept on going. He was with LTC as they reclaimed the title in 1942, with them as they won in 1943. In 1944, he's no longer listed. There are no records of the 1944-45 season, as all involved had greater things to worry about. In 1945-46, he reappears with VŠ Bratislava, third place in the first post-war season. Then in 1947, he came in second, now with I. ČLTK Praha. After that, he vanishes from Czech records.

And after that, his story gets interesting.

* * *

The late 1940s were turbulent times for Czechoslovakia. The nation emerged from occupation into political uncertainty, and the Communist Party first won a big share of the 1946 elections and then took over completely in 1948.

The turmoil was mirrored in hockey. The national team was devastated by defections, by a plane crash that killed much of the 1948 Olympic silver medal-winning team, and the trumped-up arrests and show trials of the 1949 World Championship winners.

Lonsmín was one of the defectors. It's not clear if he was involved in the Switzerland story that Gustav Bubník relates in the above link, but it's probably the case; later on, a Chicago Tribune article said that he was with his team in Switzerland when the Communists took over, and he didn't go back. His wife, Betty, apparently joined him later, possibly in 1950. What transpired between 1948 and 1950 isn't clear, but on May 4, 1950, the Lonsmíns arrived in New York on the General R.M. Blatchford, origin Bremerhaven, West Germany, eventual destination Clifton, Virginia. They were listed as "stateless." They left three young daughters behind.

* * *

Here, we can only speculate again. We don't know what he was feeling. Was Lonsmín political? Did he see what was coming, or did it catch him by surprise? Did he make the decision calmly, or was he consumed by fear?

Later on, he said that he thought his daughters could get out easily following him and his wife. They didn't, and that would cause problems down the line.

* * *

The next few years are another empty period, with only little bits filled in. The Lonsmíns spent a few months in Virginia, moved to Maryland for a few years, and then to Cicero, Illinois in 1952 or 1953. In 1955, Mrs. Lonsmín was the vice president of a Chicago group called the European Research Club, encouraging Eastern European expats to band together and fight communism. The group's secretary was Zdeněk Jirotka, once a Sparta Praha defenseman. The Lonsmíns became U.S. citizens in early 1956. He worked as a machinist, she as a bookkeeper.

* * *

Behind the scenes, they were making attempts to get their daughters out of Czechoslovakia. According to the Chicago Tribune, the U.S. State Department made "attempts" -- details are uncertain -- in both 1956 and 1957. Both failed. In 1958, they stepped up their efforts. Mrs. Lonsmín traveled to Vienna to contact a priest who had assisted other defectors. The priest passed on bribes to Czechoslovakian officials and border guards, but nothing came of it. Lonsmín himself went to Vienna in early 1959, and the story he told after was a bizarre one.

In the June 15, 1959 Tribune, a story headlined "Reds Thwart Attempts to Unite Family" says that the Czechoslovak government put the Lonsmíns oldest daughter under surveillance after the 1958 attempts. The night of May 1, she traveled to a spot near Bratislava, on the Austrian border. Lonsmín and a friend headed there to meet her -- and were arrested by Czechoslovak soldiers.

Here's how the article describes subsequent developments:

Lonsmin, imprisoned for three days, was told if he would agree to work with the Czech secret police "against the capitalists who are destroying peace," he would be given a chance to get his daughters out.

Lonsmin signed an agreement -- which included a repentance for his defection. Then, he and his Austrian friend were fed, and taken to a private home where the Reds outlined a plot to kidnap a priest in Austria. It was the same priest whom Lonsmin's wife had contacted earlier.

After signing the agreement Lonsmin said he was permitted to look thru a one way glass at a girl the Communists said was his daughter. They reported they had picked her up 20 minutes before Lonsmin appeared at the border, he said. He felt it was really his child, he said, because she was wearing a coat relatives had described.

Lonsmín went on to say he was set free after agreeing to all their demands, but immediately reported everything to the American embassy in Vienna.

They kept up their battles. Later in 1959, they drew hope from a court case, as a U.S. judge ruled that three American boys should be sent to live with their parents, who had fled to the Soviet Union. The Lonsmíns' letter to Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev, requesting a meeting during his American visit, drew national coverage. They were getting publicity for their plight, and it was sympathetic.

That was about to change.

* * *

A short blurb in the March 10, 1960, Tribune is headlined "Vote To Indict 2 In Liberation Swindle Plot." The "2" are the Lonsmíns, charged with "operating a confidence game and larceny." Two fellow Czech émigrés accused them of taking money to get people out of Czechoslovakia, then not delivering. At issue, as far as I can determine, was whether the money would be refunded if the plain failed. The accusers said that was the agreement -- the defendants said it wasn't.

The case went to court in 1962 and almost immediately became ... strange. Mrs. Lonsmín testified that a court interpreter was a Communist agent. The prosecutors didn't comment on that.

The Lonsmíns argued that they had tried, and that they had paid the money to sources in an attempt to secure the subjects' release. They said they had made no profit on the deals. They said that the accusers made no attempt to resolve the dispute before going to court.

Regardless, within days, the verdict was in. From the Chicago Tribune of April 12, 1962: "Couple Found Guilty Of Red Refugee Fraud."

* * *

The stories are cold agate, just the facts, reflecting little of why the case swung that way. Aside from the "Communist agent" anecdote, there is little color from the newsroom. We don't know how the Lonsmíns came across.

I'd like to ask Victor Lonsmín, but I can't. Was the court right, ruling him a would-be con-man? Or was he as much a victim as anyone else, duped by dishonest men taking advantage of his hopes?

* * *

The Lonsmíns could have faced jail time, but a month after the verdict, they were sentenced to five years probation and ordered to pay back their accusers.

After that, they mostly vanish from the records. I imagine a quiet, perhaps sad life -- I wonder, were they estranged from the expatriate community? It couldn't have been comfortable.

Strangely, in the 1970s, Lonsmín reappears briefly -- he secured patents for small novelty items, trick pens and cigarette lighter covers. I imagine him in a little workshop, coming up with these devices. The language involved in patents is somehow both detailed and unclear, so I have a hard time visualizing these items, but I like to think that maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the line I used something that he invented.

Victor Lonsmín died on July 22, 1990, just one month after Czechoslovakia held democratic elections. I don't know if he ever saw his daughters again.

* * *

(research for this article comes from the Chicago Tribune archives, this wonderful LTC Praha site (all in Czech), and the Czech hockey history site. My dear sainted mother also contributed research on the Lonsmíns' move to the U.S. My gratitude to all.)

^{1 - the "LTC" in "LTC Praha" stands for "Lawn Tennis Club," one of those things I find charming about European sports}
^{2 - another lawn tennis club. There are still tennis clubs with both old names in Prague today, though I don't know if they're direct descendants of the original clubs. Neither have hockey teams}

Endings, Beginnings

2011-05-31T12:17:00.000-04:00

And so that's that. The past week has been, in the words of a friend watching the 2004 election returns, "like being at a wake where you're forced to stare at the body." Part of me remains rational -- professional sports are a business, and businesses don't shy away from making money just because something will hurt people. Atlanta didn't deserve this any less (or, it should be said, more) than Sacramento, New Jersey, Montreal, Kansas City, Hartford, Winnipeg, Quebec City, or other places that lost franchises.

On the other hand, part of me remains irrational and bitter, and that part says fuck the NHL in its ear.

* * *

This was originally intended, lo these many years ago, to be something of a Thrashers blog. That obviously went out the window long ago. But in some form of twisted tribute, I'm taking on a challenge from ol' pal Tapeleg, seen here. I'm going to extend it to its fullest and write every day of the month (well, I plan to, I should say. I don't have the best track record with challenges.)

It won't all be about hockey -- there are only so many ways one can say "fuck the NHL in its ear" before it starts to sound same-y -- but the first two posts will be, at least, if all goes as intended.

* * *

Speaking of challenges -- haven't said much about it but I do remain on course for the Eastern Europe challenge of earlier this year:

#15 -- "Society Without God" by Phil Zuckerman

#16 -- "Have A Nice Day" by Dubravka Ugresic

"Society Without God" takes a while to get going -- Zuckerman's painted into a corner, since he's asking people who don't care much about religion how they feel about religion. Much of the fault is mine, too -- it's preaching to the converted (har), as I already know that non-believers can be decent/moral people, thank you very much. It gets more interesting once he starts comparing the secular Scandinavians to the more religious Americans. It's a good book, but probably more useful for someone less atheist than me.

The Ugresic book is #6 (of 12, if I remember the deal correctly) in the E. Europe challenge. I've wanted to read her stuff (she's Croatian) for a while, and ... this was probably the wrong place to start.

She lived in the northeastern U.S. for a time as the Balkans were going up in smoke, and this is a collection of columns written during that time. She's a wonderful writer, this would seem to be fertile material ... but ... despite some good moments, it leaves me cold. I'll give her other work a try -- again, she's got a great style. I'm trusting that this just wasn't the best use of it.

How To Get Ahead In Czech Advertising

2011-05-29T09:41:00.005-04:00

Another one from the archives of Czechoslovak-era hockey programs. This comes from a 1986 TJ Tesla Pardubice program -- Tesla not just being a science dude and a hair metal band but also the communist-era state electric company. They sponsored (I guess -- I'm still not 100% clear on how this worked in the 1960s through the '80s) Pardubice hockey from 1960 until the fall of communism.

The ad's a bit curious, in its juxtaposition of Age of Aquarius text (that's a font that I associate with late '60s DC Comics house ads) with tough bearded army dude/construction worker/something. That text reads (very roughly) "We increase radio effectiveness in all economic sectors," which is probably how I once imagined all communists talked.

Tesla Pardubice were usually also-rans in Czechoslovak hockey, winning only one title before the late '80s. Around that time their fortunes picked up with a bunch of good young players, not least a young Dominik Hasek, and they won two titles in the waning years of Czechoslovakia. They might have added a few more if events hadn't overtaken them -- as it was, stars like Hasek, Jiri Sejba, Petr Prajsler, Ladislav Lubina, and others all sought their fortunes elsewhere as soon as they could.

Pardubice also had what were probably the sweetest uniforms in Czechoslovakia. I haven't bought a jersey in a few years, and I'm in an era of fiscal responsibility now, but man that sweater makes me salivate.

Revelation Revisited #5: Side by Side

2011-05-25T21:02:00.004-04:00

My most memorable moment regarding this record is an alarming one. In my mid-20s, not long before leaving Tucson, near blackout drunk and listening to this in my apartment at 4 a.m., weeping copiously over something -- uncertainty, romantic setback, I don't remember.

Just one stop in a confusing journey. I really disliked Side by Side when I first heard them (see also, in the near future, Bold and Chain of Strength) -- thought they were generic, and probably thought they had too much of the tough guy thing going on. Then in my early 20s -- once I'd started drinking, bear in mind -- I adopted them wholeheartedly. Side by Side was really carried by their singer, Jules, who had that overwhelming rage/sincerity that's tough to question. When he howls "You're only young once -- so don't fuck it up!" it's hard to contradict. I mean, he really cares. The best you're gonna be able to do is shrug and say "sorry, dude, I'll try." He also leads, I dunno, the world in use of the word "fuck," which makes it kind of funny that in the recent Double Cross interviews he's done, he emphatically avoids any swearing. I guess he used it up 20 years ago.

And how do I feel about this, 20 years on? Well, it's twofold. I shelled out for the full expanded album on iTunes (22 songs, 35 minutes), with demo tracks and live tracks added, and I'd say the extra tracks mostly show that Side By Side was tapped dry on the seven-song 7". Most of the bonus stuff is generic, poorly recorded, or both. But oh, those seven songs. Yeah, they still signify one of the high-water marks of early Rev stuff. "You're Only Young Once" still gets a fist-pump. Even something as simple as "Friends" gets a solemn and appreciative nod. I wouldn't have said this when I was 18, but now I recognize -- in the pure edge era of Revelation, SBS is a contender for the best thing they put out.

* * *

#14 -- "Endgame" by David Rohde

Another book that languished on my shelves for years, because it looked daunting and I figured I knew everything there was to know about Srebrenica. More fool me, as this should be the definitive take on that horrid story. Rohde has an even, restrained style, knowing he doesn't have to sensationalize to convey the horror. The hour-by-hour narration builds the tension to an unbearable point. I know a lot about the 1990s wars, and I still learned a lot here. The U.N. comes off looking poorly; Ratko Mladic comes across looking like even more of a monster than I had anticipated. I read all 400 pages with only necessary breaks. Highly recommended.

Memorial Blues

2011-05-21T11:03:00.004-04:00

I don't go down to Memorial Drive a lot, because aside from Oakland Cemetery and the wonderful but too-rarely-visited-by-me Six Feet Under, there's not a lot there. It's just a bit too far to walk from my place and as much as I love abandoned buildings, it's not a great place for a walk. Abruptly ending sidewalks, little shade, long stretches of nothingness. In the 1970s, Life Magazine named Tucson's Speedway Boulevard the ugliest street in America. Memorial looks like Speedway after the rapture.

Mom visited a couple of weeks ago, and circumstances (visits to the Cyclorama and Oakland, trips to a rental car place) took me down Memorial multiple times -- probably more than in the time since my last post on the place, three years ago. Some stuff did catch my eye, so needing a stroll this morning, I headed down there.

I'm not much for religion but I'm curious what the Omega Holiness Church's story is. It looked boarded up and defunct, and the bulletin board by the door had notices from 2006. But signs on the door indicated it's still going -- it also seems to be a church that's active in the community, so a rousing rah for that. Even the active businesses on Memorial are thoroughly covered with graffiti, which can get confusing for the abandoned-building seeker.

Somewhere around here, I heard a rooster braying repeatedly in a nearby backyard. Strange sound for downtown Atlanta.

As I was taking this photo of the smokestacks, I heard a distant "hey!" Thinking nothing of it, I walked on. Shortly after, a pickup truck barreled past me, turned left onto a side street, and a man hopped out. He started walking toward me -- a ridiculous figure, short, toothless, 50s-ish and meth-damaged. In a tent-like t-shirt, he looked strangely sunken. Chest puffed out, he planted himself in front of me and said "you taking pictures of my house?" I was a head taller than him -- he would have needed a bazooka to be threatening. I just responded with a curious "no..." Laughing weakly, he said "Oh. I thought you were taking pictures of my house." I walked on, flashing back to this stupid incident, leaving him laughing to himself behind me.

Keeping Busy in Retirement

2011-05-20T11:13:00.001-04:00

Dick Cheney, hawking condos in downtown Atlanta!

Empty Nest Syndrome

2011-05-18T20:41:00.000-04:00

Events pretty quickly overtook my last post on the Thrashers; by the morning after I wrote it, my semi-optimism was looking more and more like whistling past the graveyard. Rumors had solidified enough that Atlanta journalists were reporting on the growing possibility of a move. It's been up and down since -- negotiations with True North confirmed, the emergence of an interested party seeking to keep the team in Atlanta, the revelation that said interested party is kind of a disaster. That's ... mostly down. Simple contempt has kept me from checking TSN's "Jets Meter" lately but I imagine it isn't pretty.

It's a strange feeling. I'm trying to remain somewhat objective about it all. If it happens it happens -- my life goes forward regardless. If the Thrashers leave, I don't start fashioning a noose. I'll fill my time other ways. At the same time, I'm attached to the team. Since the lockout they've gone from a way to give me a hockey fix to a "Team 1A" along the Avalanche. And there's a feeling that they've been poorly served. The Atlanta sports market is a fickle one, and the Thrashers have played ignored little brother to the Hawks (who in turn are the ignored little brother to the Braves and Falcons). They've suffered from abhorrent ownership -- one of the greatest tragedies of the space shuttle program's end is that we'll never see the Atlanta Spirit executives crammed into Endeavour and aimed at Neptune.

The whole recent experience has been dispiriting. The Thrashers don't seem to attract much sympathy -- aside from Craig Custance, no national/continental hockey writers have really acknowledged that there actually are people here affected by this. There are good fans here (better than me); I know people who live and die by this team. But it's easier to cheerlead and treat a Winnipeg move as a historic wrong being righted if you ignore the existing fans in Atlanta. People in the hockey world haven't done themselves proud these past few weeks.

At the same time -- and here's where that attempted objectivity comes in -- I've been on the other side of this. The Avalanche didn't spring fully-formed from Zeus's brow. I felt bad about the bereft hockey fans of Quebec City, and I'm pretty sure that had Twitter existed in 1995, I wouldn't have been campaigning for another city's team to move to Denver. At the same time, once the season started, the sympathy pretty rapidly turned to an overwhelming sense of "fuck yeah," and I doubt that when Colorado won the Cup I spent a ton of time thinking about the Quebecers.

So what would happen if the Thrashers move to Winnipeg? My emotions wouldn't follow them there -- I have no ties to the Peg other than being glad I don't live there. I'd wish Pavelec, Byfuglien, Ladd etc well until they became UFAs and moved on. The Avalanche would get some of my attention back. I'd go to a few more Gladiators games a year, though I'm realistic about how often I'd be willing to make the trek from my snug in-city home to Gwinnett (not very). International hockey would theoretically get more interest, as would soccer. I'd devote more time to non-sports projects.

But I'd rather it didn't come to that. After more than a decade here, I feel (and it was a surprise when I realized this) some Atlanta pride. I think Atlanta and the Thrashers could be good for each other, given an opportunity. I'm holding out hope that opportunity becomes reality.

* * *

#13 -- "Behindlings" by Nicola Barker

One of the joys of being an avid reader is discovering a new vein, finding a fantastic author that wasn't on your radar before. When I read "Darkmans" last year I had a vague idea that Barker was just discovering her talent. Not so, friend, not so. The earlier "Behindlings" is almost as daring and just as brilliant, and I'm officially buying in to anything she does in the future. Strange and difficult book, but also rewarding and haunting. It's not easy but it's very worthwhile.

Revelation Revisited: Bidip Bo!

2011-05-16T18:48:00.006-04:00

Revelation #4 -- Gorilla Biscuits s/t 7"

From the start, the Gorilla Biscuits 7" was screwed with me. "Start Today" was a watershed moment in my discovery of hardcore -- what was a fairly frequent backwards progression did the GBs no favors.

Looking back now, the 7" seems a bit more honest in comparison to the very slick (in hardcore terms) album. But at the time, living in distant Tucson, I imagined the Biscuits as this amazingly tight outfit -- without any sort of perspective, I just figured they could knock off "Start Today" note-for-note in the live setting. I also thought the Reason to Believe album was an accurate representation of that band live. Catching both on third-generation VHS tapes later was a bit of a shock.

So in 2011, whither the Gorilla Biscuits (I note they're playing a few shows up in the northeast soon, and that makes me regret even more that I skipped them here a few years back)? I feel considerably more generous to this ep now, but that's not getting me to listen to it. It's good solid hardcore, goofily earnest like so many of its contemporaries, less polished than the band's recorded output would become. I can give it more of a nod now than my disappointed 17-year-old self could, but it's a museum piece -- not something that I feel really moved to listen to now.

The verdict: about the same as 1991, but my perspective's a bit different.

* * *

While on the pop culture tip, why not knock off a few more things? I saw "Thor" Friday night, and ... I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a movie so unreservedly. It's big, it's stupid, it's loud, it's so much fun. The plot makes even less sense than you'd expect from a movie that's about a comic book superhero version of a Norse god, but who cares. I never warmed to Thor as Marvel superhero, partly because of my DC bias, partly because I was never a big fan of Jack Kirby or Walt Simonson, the two creators that really defined him. I've missed out on most of the superhero revival in movies -- I think a half-asleep in-flight viewing of one of the X-men movies is all I've managed since the Tim Burton "Batman" -- but god, if they're all these good, I've got catching up to do.

And then books.

#11 -- "Murder in Amsterdam" by Ian Buruma

#12 -- "The Ball is Round" by David Goldblatt

The Buruma book is very good, taking a nuanced and uncertain view on one of the most touchy and sensitive subjects of the day, and I might write more about it if my brain weren't all THOR! and Gorilla Biscuits and beer right now. Give it a shot, okay?

Re "The Ball is Round," I already sorta kinda had a post in the hopper about why some sports (hockey, American football) have a remarkable paucity of good writing devoted to them, while others (baseball, soccer, I hear tell boxing) are just lousy with talented scribes. This is just more fuel for that argument -- between "The Ball is Round" and "The Inverted Pyramid" I've had two soccer books invade my all-time top ten list in the past few months. It's 70 gazillion pages (conservative estimate), it's a history of soccer placing the sport in context with the social developments of each era and location, and it's brilliant. It's hard to imagine this book being written about any other sport -- none comes close to soccer's global reach and collisions with the political world. Read this and then see just how embarrassingly inadequate most sports writing really is.

Filling the Empty Room

2011-05-11T18:25:00.000-04:00

A friend recently asked if I was worried about the various rumors about the Thrashers leaving Atlanta. I said no -- first off, after that shitshow of a season (Thrashers tank, Avalanche do so much worse that scientists are working on new forms of the word "tank"), hockey ranks around tractor pulls and snuff films on the list of things I want to watch. We're still cool, me and hockey, but I'm seeing other sports for a bit.

Down the line, I'll get over it and want to watch hockey again. But I'm still not worried. All the stories about their problems (or those of the Coyotes, which seemed much more fraught) are -- to be generous -- rather thinly sourced, and generally pushed the most by outlets (I'm looking at you, Winnipeg Free Press and TSN) that have some interest in keeping this story alive. It's hard to believe that after bending over backwards to help out the Penguins, Predators, and Coyotes, Gary Bettman et al will wave dismissively as a team in one of the ten biggest U.S. metropolitan areas heads north. I'm no big fan of the "open letter" form of writing, but this post (via Puck Daddy) does a nice job of laying out the reasons why the NHL has some interest in keeping a team in Atlanta.

Feel free to throw all that back in my face if the ECHL is my only local option next year. But if I'm right -- and I usually am -- the Thrashers will still be here next season, and the Winnipeggers will be feverishly grasping on to rumors about the Islanders or Blue Jackets.

But there will still be a problem in Atlanta.

Put a happy face on it all you want -- and hey, I'm a relentless civic booster in all cases other than the otherworldly heat and the awful traffic and the Braves -- but the Thrashers' attendance will still suck. There are a lot of reasons for this, and I'll rely on someone else for the research here, but I'd guess that one of the major factors is that the team's primary audience is located outside the city. And considering how much fun it is to get around here (for the outsider: public transportation is useless and no one knows how to drive) the fan base might as well be located in South Carolina. There are a good amount of hockey fans intown, but the families are primarily located outside. Barring moving the arena to Cobb County (and hey world, please don't) there's nothing that can be done about that.

Meanwhile, intown -- Atlanta, according to some rather hasty internet research, has the largest gay population in the U.S. According to that article it's nearly 40 percent of the city. The city's sports teams, far as I know, have almost completely ignored them (and when they haven't ignored them, well, it isn't pretty at all). I can't speak for other big cities but by and large I'm going to guess that's still taboo in the big three and a half U.S. sports. It's sad. It's also stupid -- and perhaps the Thrashers could be a groundbreaking team.

The hockey world is, by and large, a conservative one. But it's also a fairly friendly one, if you stay off Twitter. Again, unscientific research, but I'd bet that Brent Sopel taking the Stanley Cup to a gay pride parade and Sean Avery coming out in support of gay players and same-sex marriage is more than we've heard from athletes in other major sports. And it was gratifying -- as a self-styled progressive who sometimes despairs about reconciling that with avid sports fandom -- to see people go in hard when a NHL agent took his shots at Avery's comments. Even history's greatest monster, Chris Chelios, has said a gay teammate wouldn't be a big deal.

So, Thrashers -- turn your marketing efforts that way. Yearbook shots featuring the players in their underwear. Lady Gaga on the sound system. Mixed drinks instead of Heineken. Eric Boulton doing a guest bouncer stint at the Eagle. Branch out, try new things. Philips would suddenly be a tough place to play -- an arena full of gay guys taunting the other team is gonna be a hell of a lot cattier than "Hey goalie, you suck!" Imagine Eric Staal breaking down in tears on the bench. It's sweet, isn't it?

Then imagine this: because the Thrashers have taken this step, because the Thrashers have reached out, they now have a sympathetic fan base in every city (except maybe Edmonton -- are there gay people in Edmonton?). Go on the road and there are supporters at every stop.

For the most part, and I'm gonna go out on a limb and speak for my fellow straights (you guys don't mind, right? cool) here, I don't think that most people would get too upset about this. Most of us would be united in love of hockey and are tolerant of others and are comfortable enough that we wouldn't feel threatened. We might lose a few mulleted guys with "69" jerseys, but addition by subtraction, y'know? Or those mulleted guys with "69" jerseys might learn something... about themselves.

I can't imagine that it'll happen. I also can't imagine that it would lose. Seriously, Thrashers, give it a shot. At the very least it's a more focused marketing strategy than whatever "Sons of Blueland" was all about.

Revelation Revisited: Doubling Up

2011-04-17T16:52:00.003-04:00

I suppose I should have stated at the outset that the first few releases would get kind of short shrift -- for a variety of reasons, Rev #1-3 weren't ever truly on my radar early on. So we'll get through #s 2 and 3 today and then progress. Start today, if you will.

#2 -- "New York City Hardcore: Together" compilation

1991 -- ???

2011 -- gosh, I wish I'd paid more attention.

This was one of two of the early releases that I never actually owned. The reason's simple: I thought that the upcoming number 7, "New York City Hardcore: The Way It Is" was entirely this one with added tracks. That's not totally true, and one of the two songs that I recognized from this was re-recorded for the next record (Supertouch's "Searching for the Light"). So I don't have a lot of recollections of this, probably because I couldn't get this on grey vinyl. The sound quality is pretty iffy so it's more like I'm hearing my neighbor play great old hardcore instead of Katy Perry. A really brief breakdown:

* Warzone "As One" -- pretty great and I wonder if I'm finally becoming a Warzone fan at age 38

* Gorilla Biscuits "Better Than You" -- one of the standout songs because I worshipped GB when I first heard this -- cheerful and catchy with some of the more gloriously stupid lyrics out there

* Bold "Talk Is Cheap" -- we'll get into Bold later and I think they're one of the dullest bands in the history of hardcore, but this actually isn't bad, a bit more intense than the rest of their output

* Youth of Today "Together" -- at the height of their powers, they were pretty great here, hard to believe we weren't far off from the whateverness of "Break Down the Walls"

* Sick of it All "My Life" -- I'm not a fan of early SOIA, but this is one of the catchier songs they did (in that I actually remember it)

* Side by Side "Violence to Fade" -- 180 degrees from Bold in that I generally liked them, but man this is forgettable

* Supertouch "Searching for the Light" -- this was young Greg's favorite ST song, but this isn't the good version

It's tempting to think that if I'd given this a good listen back then, I would've loved it, since it had all the good of NYCHTWII and less of the dross. But with the exception of Warzone and Bold, all of these bands had plenty of other recorded output that I liked as much or more, and so this would've just sounded like a seven-song appendix.

#3 -- Sick of it All 7"

1991 -- SELLOUTS!

2011 -- This would've been a decent intro to hardcore.

I got Sam McPheeters' "Dear Jesus" collection not too long ago, and reading it now was a bit of a trip -- that was my personal bible round about 1991 and 1992, my guide to things that didn't really affect me but that I decided really were important. Chief among those was the issue of major labels, and the legendary Born Against-Sick of it All debate. I don't know why I cared, because I didn't know any of those involved and there was no danger of any Tucson bands signing to majors, but I did. I cared a lot and felt obligated to lecture any poor Tucson schmuck who didn't share my angst over Sick of it All or Killing Time or whoever. On down the line (see future Quicksand entry), I got more angsty, and then just dropped it to the relief of everyone who knew me, but for a time I was kind of loud about it, a foot soldier in a war that didn't concern me and was being fought out far away.

So: SOIA were a visible target and I made a big show of boycotting "Blood, Sweat and No Tears" and "Just Look Around," to the point where I think I still haven't heard them. Then later, once I'd tossed in the towel, I liked "Built to Last" and "Call to Arms" as much as I'd slagged the earlier records. Lost in all this was the debut Rev ep, which occupied a grey area: the indie-label debut of a band I'd decided represented bad things. Like Warzone, I owned this -- record collecting nerdery trumped my confused ethics -- but didn't listen to it a lot.

Now, it feels like nothing special. There's a certain youthful joy to it in that it's easy to imagine that it was recorded in one take start-to-finish, but it's really generic hardcore with only Lou's vocals to set it aside. I would've loved this if I'd heard it right after my first hardcore show (Malignus Youth, American Deathtrip, Upside, Justus, Suspended Animation in Bisbee, Arizona). Now, it's an artifact. One that highlights just what a dork I was.

Revelation Revisited

2011-04-05T20:24:00.003-04:00

Many moons ago, in this blog's updated-more-frequently era, I mentioned that I'd owned a really large chunk of Revelation Records' early releases (see here) and then joked about doing a retrospective on my feelings for each release, all these years later. It seemed like a really bad idea.

So now I'm going to do it. It's been 20 years since I graduated high school, and that was the year I discovered most of this stuff. And a lot of it still comes up when I work out -- in fact, that might be a marketing idea. Workouts for aging ex-straight-edge guys, trying to work off the beer. "Rev It Up!"

Revelation's really the only choice for this -- there was a decent amount of time where I was crazy with anticipation for any release, and that lasted long into the period where they were more defined by Whirlpool and Engine Kid than bands I actually liked. Even now, I check the webpage semi-regularly. Dischord is really the only other label I could conceivably do this for -- they probably affected my personal ethos more than Rev did -- but in my formative years they were putting out stuff like Holy Rollers and Fidelity Jones that I didn't like even then. Beyond that, what is there? Victory? New Age? Vermiform?

This will last until I either run out of releases I listened to or I get bored with it. So until then, welcome to Revelation Revisited.

#1 -- Warzone "Lower East Side Crew"

1991: OMG SKINHEADS

2011: I kinda wish Revelation had put out more stuff like this.

Young Greg never really gave this one a chance. May have had a little to do with the lack of big black Xs on their hands, may have had a bit more to do with the fact that some of their stuff came out on Caroline Records, which had some vague bigger-business ties that I didn't understand but were sufficient for me to purse my lips and shake my head. But most of it was that here it was in the flesh, the skinhead threat, subject of very serious CBS special reports.

Never mind that the only skinheads I knew were kind of depressing dorks, not a threat to anyone except themselves -- the topper being an illegal immigrant who rebranded himself as an American pride skinhead and called himself "Beans" -- I'd lived kind of a sheltered life, and it took more time than I'd care to admit to accept that at least in Tucson, skins weren't any sort of threat or any sort of influence, positive or negative. My fevered MRR reading probably didn't help -- I really thought that skinheads, Krishnas, and major labels were the three worst things out there.

(none of this was sufficient to keep me from owning a copy of "Lower East Side Crew" and later selling it for a decent chunk -- even at my most stridently doctrinaire, I was capable of astonishing moral flexibility)

Now, with the benefit of some perspective and no longer caring a whit about hardcore scene politics, it's hard to find what upset me here. By all accounts Raybeez was a pretty wonderful human being, and there aren't any lyrical problems (unity is good, lack of unity is bad, let's all work together) here. What is something of a (sorry) revelation is how much I kinda dig this. The dirty production and the sheer urgency sound really, really good to my jaded ears; it's more organic hardcore than the more polished stuff that the label became known for. I've gone full-circle now. In 1991 I was more "Start Today" -- in 2011 I'm more "Lower East Side Crew."

The Verdict, comparing 2011 to 1991: much better.

More of this to come! Unless I get bored.

I'm Not an Endtable

2011-04-03T17:35:00.000-04:00

So hey! Anyone miss me? Uh, ok, anyone notice I was gone? Things've been busy, things've been hectic, but I'm gonna try to get back to this regularly.

#8 -- "Inverting the Pyramid" by Jonathan Wilson

#9 -- "John Henry Days" by Colson Whitehead

#10 -- "Don't Mourn, Balkanize!" by Andrej Grubacic

The Wilson book is brilliant, and I'll probably have more to say about it in a day or two, if I finish something that I've been writing for weeks and weeks. The Whitehead book is brilliant, but I don't have much more to say about that -- you oughta get it, ok? And follow him on Twitter, he's one of the people that make it worthwhile. The Grubacic book is frustrating and I wanted to throw it against the wall a few times, and guess which one I'm gonna write about.

I picked it up out of a desire to get some alternate views on the Balkans -- I've come under some criticism over the years for a reflexively mainstream/Western point of view, which is perhaps fair enough. This is certainly a varying view -- unfortunately it's not that persuasive.

It's a collection of essays, more or less divided into two parts. The first critiques U.S./NATO intervention and involvement in the Balkans. The writing is -- to be polite -- not that hot. Think of someone cornering you at a party and ranting at you. Think of them using finger quotes to mock points of view divergent from theirs. Think of them using the word "neoliberal" so often that it loses all meaning. That's what this is like. It's a MRR column page circa 1991.

Western involvement in the region is ripe for critique, but there are a lot of problems here. Yes, Serbia isn't solely responsible for the 1990s chaos. But it fields some, and that's glossed over here. While there's some hints of sympathy for all the Balkans' peoples, for the most part, Serbs and Roma are the only ones who get directly acknowledged.

The second part leaves me feeling a bit kinder toward Grubacic. He lays out his vision for the region, and while I don't find it realistic, it at least shows his heart is in the right place. He lays out a scheme for a loose Balkan federation without (so far as I can tell) much in the way of central government or national borders. It's a nice idea and there were many interesting points in this section -- I particularly found the section on participatory economics interesting, though I lack the background to know whether it would work.

And that's the problem in this section -- lots of nice ideas, not much in the way of practical ways of making them work. How are you going to get people to take part? How will you convince Balkan residents (Grubacic doesn't lay out boundaries for this, but I'm assuming it goes beyond Serbia) to re-enter a federation, however loose, after the last one collapsed in blood and despair? There really isn't much in the way of answers to those questions, and in the end, the book loses a chance to be elevated above the rank of a ranting manifesto.

Ignore Everything I Say

2011-02-15T19:45:00.002-05:00

When last we met, I was taking what I imagined was a calm, reasoned look at this business of being a fan. Because the heavens like a good jest, five days later I was watching Liverpool (minus ex-favorite player Fernando Torres) versus Chelsea (plus ex-favorite player Fernando Torres), and absolutely losing my shit as I contradicted everything in the aforementioned post.

I booed Torres when he left the field. I screamed and embraced my Liverpool-watching pal when Raul Meireles scored. When the final whistle blew, leaving Liverpool with a 1-0 win, I posted some frankly embarassing stuff about my devotion to the club on Twitter.

So much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I'm just as stupid and irrational as anyone else. I apologize for the confusion.

* * *

That day seemed to herald a turnaround in my sporting (watching) life; not only did Liverpool win, but the Packers (representing good) defeated the Steelers in the Super Bowl, and it emerged that Peter Forsberg was returning to the Avalanche. Combined with an Evander Kane-fueled Thrashers win over the Rangers a few days later (with me in some posh seats, thanks to the Elk) and it looked like all sunshine and roses from here on out, up to the inevitable Thrashers-Avalanche Stanley Cup. Since then, though, the wheels have come off. Liverpool could only manage a draw against Wigan, Forsberg's retired and the Avalanche are tanking, I also saw the Thrashers in an uninspired loss to Carolina, and labor strife threatens the 2011 NFL season. Sports, man. They'll break your heart.

* * *

I have been reading, yes, yes.

#5 -- "The Ghost Map" by Steven Johnson

#6 -- "The Siege" by Ismail Kadare

#7 -- "War Without Death" by Mark Maske

"The Ghost Map" is an interesting book elevated to another level by the sheer enthusiasm (if that's the right word, given the subject matter) the author brings to it. Johnson -- a really good writer -- thinks this stuff is fascinating and he really wants to share it with you. It's hard not to be swept along. The book's about a 19th-century cholera outbreak in London and some non-traditional thinking by a few of the residents that led to a breakthrough in how the disease was viewed. It's good stuff.

I love Kadare, but "The Siege" didn't do a whole lot for me. It's actually an older book ("The Castle," which I can now scratch off my want list) repurposed. It's a metaphor for late-1960s Albania and it felt like it could've been half the length. Not bad but he's got a bunch that are better.

"War Without Death" eases me gently into the football offseason. Maske spent a year following the NFC East teams around and this is the result. I applaud him for breaking out of the "follow one team" thing, which has been done so many times before, but can't help but think that it would have been better if he'd just ... followed one team. As it is it jumps around a lot and some interesting threads are lost. It's good, but could've been much better.

38

2011-02-01T18:15:00.003-05:00

I spent much of my 38th birthday rather unspectacularly: waiting in a Toyota dealership, light rain outside, getting Twitter updates on the Fernando Torres saga while waiting for a few hundred bucks worth of work to get done on my car (and then finding out that a few hundred more will be necessary, just for kicks).

The Torres watch was a grim thing -- he was likely Liverpool's most valuable player, and unquestionably my favorite. But watching the fan reaction as the story played out over a week was instructive. When the rumblings first began in late January, anyone who recounted a rumor was savaged -- Fernando's a True Red, he'll never leave, etc. Writers were abused on Twitter for saying it was a possibility that he would go to Chelsea.

The rumors didn't go away, and eventually, obviously, they became fact. And then the fury turned on Fernando: he's not a true Liverpool player. He's a prima donna, he's lazy, he's petulant. He told us he was one of us and he wasn't. And now it's turned to a grim sort of satisfaction: he's going to fail miserably at Chelsea, he'll regret this eternally. Strange to watch, hero to pariah in the space of a week.

I'm obviously upset -- my two Torres jerseys are poignantly gathering dust now -- but this all highlighted just how bizarre sports fandom can be. Torres wants to win titles and wants to play in the Champions League. At least for the moment, Chelsea offers a much better shot at that. I wouldn't want Fernando to stand in the way of any career advancement on my end; who am I to tell him he shouldn't pursue what he wants?

Tapeleg had a good post a few weeks back about Evgeni Nabokov and the vitriol that came his way when he refused to go to the Islanders. Fans want the players to go out, perform well, and win. We don't want them to have any desires more complicated than that, and when they do, we shower them with abuse. We take it personally: it's not just the club he's rejecting. It's the city, it's us.

Life goes on (I'd say the sun came up today, but at least here in Atlanta it's been pouring like mad). As a Thrashers fan, I've survived Heatley then Hossa then Kovalchuk wanting their way out of town; as a Liverpool fan, I'll survive Fernando. Hell, I've already got my eye on a Raul Meireles shirt.

* * *

#4 -- "Albania: From Anarchy to a Modern Balkan Identity" by Miranda Vickers and James Pettifer

And this is #2 for the book challenge. Whew. I've been trying to get through this for a long while now; it's perhaps the most scholarly book I've read in a decade. It tracks Albania's emergence from Hoxha's dictatorship, and does it exhaustively.

It's very thorough, but anyone's interest in this will vary by need. If you're a hardcore Albania nerd (Albanerd?), like me, then it's must reading. If you want a primer on Albania's history, Vickers' excellent "The Albanians" is the place to go. If you don't want to read about Albania at all, why are you looking to me for recommendations?

Marketing

2011-01-30T21:53:00.000-05:00

Folks, this is how you get me to buy your product.

Go Green

2011-01-23T12:17:00.002-05:00

I think I'm oh for 2011 in terms of picking football, so this is utterly meaningless, but I'd really like to see an all-green Super Bowl. Go Jets, go Packers. It's more reactionary than anything else (though I do like Aaron Rodgers and have fond childhood memories of rooting for the Jets) -- it's more anti-Bears/Steelers than pro-Pack/Jets.

The Bears are more of a shrug than anything else -- don't mess with my state, Jay Cutler, but if they do advance ... well, I've got a lot of friends and family from Chicago and if they're happy, cool. The Steelers are a different story; I don't know if there's an athlete that I hate as viscerally as their (allegedly!) subhuman quarterback. I'd rather Roethlisberger never feel anything approaching happiness again, but that being difficult to guarantee, I'll settle for Pittsburgh losing.

To that end, I'm rocking the one green shirt I have (a Corrosion of Conformity t-shirt). And deep down, reluctantly, I'm getting myself emotionally ready for Steelers-Bears.

* * *

#3 -- "Snow White and Russian Red" by Dorota Maslowska

My first read for the Eastern European book challenge, and it's a doozy: a jittery and blackly humorous journey as a Polish junkie plummets straight downhill. Reality and hallucination overlap; it's a wild and difficult ride but really good. And you know what? The author was 19 when she wrote this. Jesus.

The Great Thaw

2011-01-12T19:12:00.002-05:00

Even as difficult as the last few days have been, I wasn't all that thrilled to see the sun out this morning. Not just because that convinced a lot of people who shouldn't drive that it was okay (though that contributed). But for a few days, Atlanta was silent and otherworldly, peaceful and empty.

I have good memories of being snowed in from childhood. They're undoubtedly romanticized and I doubt my parents would feel the same way, but the memories are pleasant: always looking out at an empty, scrubbed world, rarely if ever interrupted by day-to-day life.

I didn't get to be snowed in this week. My job's of the "neither snow nor rain nor heat" variety (though the postal service obviously isn't -- haven't seen those suckers since Saturday), and I've been driving in slowly every day. It's been kind of nice, though. Atlanta's chaotic streets all to myself.

We really get these ice storms down here about once a year -- natives would have you believe it's once a century -- but this was one of the craziest I remember in my 11 years. There was a really big one (most of the city lost power) right after I moved here, in 2000; another maybe five-six years ago. It's been impressive, traumatic, and in a weird way, kind of fun. Winter's really beautiful down here. I wish it lasted longer.

* * *

#2 -- "The Memory Chalet" by Tony Judt

Earlier in the week I was kicking around a post about the Tucson killings, trying to work through my feelings about this happening in one of my old hometowns, but I dropped it (if this leaves you with a feeling of loss, trust me, you'll find plenty more bad writing about it elsewhere on the internet). In a way, reading this helped me calm down. Judt made the world seem so sane. I've said this before but reading his books, I would find myself thinking that "if I could just get people to read this, they'd understand so much." That's probably what people think about "Atlas Shrugged," too.

This is a collection (the final one, I believe) of the short reminiscings that he dictated as motor neurone disease slowly took him away. Less political than personal, they nonetheless show what a dazzling thinker he was.

My Judt fandom is no secret; I think everyone should go to Amazon and buy all his books right now. Reading "The Memory Chalet" left me with a real sense of loss. There are hints of so much more here; if not for his illness, there could have been 10, 15, 20 books to come. In their absence, his existing body of work still stands strong, and this is a worthy addition.

New Year, New Books

2011-01-05T20:54:00.004-05:00

#1 -- "1968" by Mark Kurlansky

I should've read this some time back -- there's a scarcity of good books on the events in Prague in 1968, and while that's only a fraction of Kurlansky's book, he covers it very well. I learned quite a bit from the rest; while I'm pretty familiar with the year's events in the U.S., Czechoslovakia, and France, I wasn't so hot on Poland and Mexico. Kurlansky sure can write -- I remember liking his "The Basque History of the World" a ton -- and I'll hunt down some of his other books.

* * *

I'm never much for reading challenges, but this one -- The Black Sheep Dances: The 2011 Eastern European Reading Challenge -- seems tailor-made for me. So I'm jumping in. I'm going to strive to read authors I haven't read before. That won't be entirely possible -- with two new Ismail Kadare books since the last one I read, I'm going to have to read at least one -- but for the most part I'll explore some new folks. Oughta be fun.

Everything Can Change On A New Year's Day

2010-12-31T10:08:00.005-05:00

One of the charming things about being human is the ability to keep finding hope, to keep finding ways to think that life will get better. I'm a pretty strict rationalist, but I'm still believing that while there's no discernible difference between today and tomorrow, the advent of 2011 will create a new start, a clean slate, a chance to begin anew.

My 2010 would be familiar to anyone who watches the Denver Broncos regularly: an early touchdown followed by a descent into ineptitude, one solid quarter followed by missed blocks, fumbles, blown coverage. I haven't addressed it on here and won't beyond this paragraph, but the engagement is no longer on (and hasn't been for some months). There's no anger -- just a lot of sorrow, and a lot of willful self-destructive drinking.

So as 2011 dawns, I'm more or less back where I was at the start of 2010 -- just with a little less hope, and a little more wisdom. (and 25 fewer pounds. Let's hear it for one resolution kept.) Rather than continue the pattern of moping-drinking-moping-drinking, I'll choose to look back on the good of 2010. Some cool new friends (yo to MMW and Reeby), reconnections with old friends (word up to Therese), wonderful people who have been there all along, new places to spend all my time and money at (Diesel), and new hope in the form of glorious human Josh Goddamn Freeman (and yeah, Timmy Tebow too, but he wasn't the frequent monster J-Free was).

And I'll choose to look ahead to the exciting of 2011 -- more writing, an exciting trip (details to come, once I sort it all out), and hopefully some long-overdue changes. I've got plenty of resolutions, but for once I won't stick my neck out and make a big deal out of them. A trusted confidante knows them and will presumably give me shit if I blow them.

So happy new year. Best to all.

Heartbreak Alley

2010-12-30T18:55:00.002-05:00

The corridor behind my apartment is no stranger to late-night drama, but last night's was pretty classic, even if it woke me up. First, a severely inebriated girl about 2 a.m., hollering into what must have been a bad cell phone connection:

"Horrible! Horrible! Not adorable -- you're goddamn fucking horrible!"

Shortly after, a couple noisily broke up in the same alley. Note to the dude -- you sound like a duck when you get agitated.

* * *

Not that I'm sounding much better, I'm afraid. I'm coping with a head cold of magnificent proportions. It seems like I've been sick for about the last two months of 2010, and it seems like I've been sick for more than half of the last few New Year's Eves. We'll see if I wake up hale and hearty tomorrow, but today was bad enough that I was ordered home from work, and even Bowl Noodle Soup isn't stopping the phlegm parade.

So one last book for 2010 -- with my head the way it is, I can't imagine I'll finish anything tomorrow:

#60 -- "The Code Book" by Simon Singh

I've wanted this for a long while now -- long enough, perhaps, that I suspect the material on modern-day cryptography is far out of date. No real matter to me as getting into all the tech of that made my mucus-filled head spin. The fun stuff with me was all the old-style codebreaking, the see-saw of tougher codes versus tougher cracks. The translations of dead languages were pretty thrilling. I wish I'd read this alongside Neal Stephenson's "Cryptonomicon" -- if I didn't have so many other unread books, I might do that next. Ah well.

Karma Stew

2010-12-25T08:38:00.003-05:00

(everyone's allowed one Circle Jerks-song post title per year)

I tend to expect the worst. So it's a bit of a surprise that when they started canceling Christmas Day flights out of Atlanta (because of the POSSIBILITY of snow), I shrugged and assumed mine wouldn't be one.

I was mistaken, natch. I logged on Friday just to make sure, saw the dreaded red letters telling me my flight had been affected, and found out that my three-hour Christmas morning jaunt had turned into a nine-hour descent into hell, beginning before dawn and concluding well into the Colorado afternoon.

Thankfully, Delta had a list of alternatives -- and one of them was a direct flight, leaving in just three hours. I took it, called my parents, threw a bunch of crap into a bag and rushed to the airport, and made the flight.

And -- found out that I'd been put in first class gratis. Which was every bit as sumptuous as I recall. Spacious seats! Free drinks! An interesting seatmate!

This sort of thing never happens to me (said in best Penthouse Forum style) -- I associate flying with screaming kids and getting my seat double-booked. I don't usually fall upwards.

So now I'm wondering -- has my karma improved? Or is the world just setting me up for an even bigger kick in the ass?

I have to fly back tomorrow (to be at work Monday), which will probably answer that question.

Anyway: Merry Christmas! The goat still stands!

Coming Up For Air

2010-12-20T20:38:00.003-05:00

I'm writing this with spikes of pain shooting up from my jaw, through my brain, out the top of my head, presumably dissipating somewhere in the stratosphere. Thanks in part to a rather hands-off approach to oral maintenance (my last dentist died nearly two years ago, and I only found out this month) an old root canal has gone bad and now I'm facing the prospect of rather more invasive surgery. Hooray. It's the perfect cap to this year, which started with such promise but then went badly awry. I usually like my metaphors less painful than this, though.

I haven't been updating this because really, there's one post that's just repeating over and over in my head: I don't like what I'm doing, I need to do something different, I'm afraid to make the jump. That little circle. I know (more or less) what I need to do -- now I just need to find the strength. Stupid, obvious patterns: as a kid, I was afraid to go off the diving board or do the abseiling exercises in gym class - until, finally, my hand was forced. And then I had fun.

Really plain lessons, you'd think, but apparently they haven't taken.

Anyway: Merry Christmas!

Books:

#57: "Freakonomics" by Stephen Dubner and Steven Levitt

#58: "Men of Tomorrow" by Gerard Jones

#59: "A Nervous Splendor" by Frederic Norton

"Freakonomics" -- I've been wanting to develop some basic economic knowledge beyond an Econ 101 class nearly two decades ago, and two people I respect told me to check this out. (thanks to my usual abhorrence of bestsellers, of course, I NEEDED to be told to check it out.) It's great fun -- we'll see if I picked anything up from it if/when I continue my ad-libbed economic education.

"Men of Tomorrow" -- Jones is great as a comics historian, and after a slow start, this chronicle of the early days of the comic book industry is fantastic. It's also very, very even-handed -- the treatment of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster is sort of the centerpiece of the book, and Jones is fair and calm in assessing it. Nice work.

"A Nervous Splendor" -- Vienna over the course of the winter of 1888-1889, when modernization was showing signs of leaving Austria-Hungary behind, and the one man who perhaps could have helped it along first was marginalized and then committed suicide. Marvelously written, made me really glad that I didn't live in late 19th century Vienna.

303 to 404

2010-11-30T21:43:00.004-05:00

Under the heading of shouldn't mean something but it does: after 11 years in Atlanta, I've given up the old 303 (Colorado) area code in favor of 404 (Atlanta). It's not voluntary; I got an iPhone and they wouldn't let me keep the old number. This all feels rather harsh, the severance of another link with the homeland. But -- I kept a 303 number through more than a decade out here, so perhaps giving in and going to a 404 number will free unseen bonds, and let me head back to Colorado. That's how it would work in fantasy novels, anyhow.

I have read books in the three weeks of radio silence (illness, work, illness, ennui). Not many, though, because one was longer than hell.

#55 -- "Crash" by J.G. Ballard

#56 -- "Nixonland" by Rick Perlstein

(read this book on an airplane if you don't like talking to other people)

So, "Crash." Long overdue. Notorious. And, god, reading it makes you want a shower, then another. Which isn't to say it isn't captivating -- it is. But I don't know that I honestly enjoyed it. I can't really recommend it, but it is an experience.

One note: I'd gone 20 years or so assuming that Government Issue's "Crash" -- sung by Ballard-fan Jay Robbins -- was about this book. But they don't seem to be connected at all. Another youthful fancy shot down.

Shorter and easier review department: "Nixonland" is probably the best book I've ever read on modern (or, what the hell, non-modern) American history. Why don't you do yourself a favor and read it?

Sucked In

2010-11-04T10:47:00.003-04:00

There's a corner in my favorite coffee shop here that seems to have a perpetual smell of patchouli and body odor, even when it's empty. Yesterday I sat in it and worried constantly that it was me; today I sat elsewhere, but walked by and it was still there. I think perhaps it's a little haunting, Amityville or Shining-style -- the miasma is all that remains of the souls of Boulder's old hippies.

The usual bit: I'm in Boulder, I want to move back right now. But there's a feeling, for perhaps the first time, that I'm something of a sucker, that coming back here would thrust me into a young man's game that I'm ill-equipped to play. I'm not ambitious in the traditional sense. Right now, I'm less certain than ever what I want to do with my life. Usually, a trip back to Boulder makes me feel like I can do anything. This time, I'm just finding myself more confused and aimless (albeit in a content way).

Money and the trappings of success aren't really important to me. On the other hand, I don't seem to have it in me to be an ascetic, and even if I get to that point I still have to worry about health insurance and the pragmatic parts of life. I don't want to get caught up in materialism but I also don't want to live under a bridge.

This is an aimless ramble; this is mostly what I'm capable of these days. Confused mental meanderings. At least this week I can do it in Boulder.

* * *

#53 -- "Neuromancer" by William Gibson

#54 -- "A Dangerous Place" by Marc Reisner

So, huh, "Neuromancer." One of those books that I shoulda read a long time ago. And... I'm not crazy about it. Didn't really hold me. I'm sure that aficianados of the genre could tell me why this is way better than "Snow Crash" but I'll still take the latter. Didn't get into "The Man in the High Castle," didn't get into this -- cult literature and I have a rocky relationship.

"A Dangerous Place" is much more my thing -- Reisner's the writer of "Cadillac Desert," which I loved a bunch once upon a time. This was his final book (he died before his completion). It's a last warning about California's future, detailing how the combination of overextended water resources and major cities built on fault lines will eventually lead to utter disaster. He closes with a speculative piece, detailing just how the disaster would play out, and it's very realistic and plausible. It's a pity he wasn't able to write more.

Back in Colorado

2010-11-01T17:48:00.003-04:00

Sorely needed, I'll tell you that.

* * *

Books:

#49 -- "Loving Graham Greene" by Gloria Emerson

#50 -- "The Hills of Adonis" by Colin Thubron

#51 -- "The Hot Rock" by Donald Westlake

#52 -- "Why Me?" by Donald Westlake

Emerson's book is an interesting oddity -- I found it frustrating and dull at first, and maybe throughout, but it kept me hooked. It's oddly dreamy and quietly funny, the story of a well-meaning American who channels twin obsessions -- her slain brother and Graham Greene -- into attempts to help the world's less fortunate, whether they want it or not. It isn't like anything else I've read, and while this isn't exactly a wholehearted recommendation, it may be worth your time.

Unfortunately, "The Hills of Adonis" isn't. I'm a big Thubron fan but this -- his first book, I think? -- is tedious. He's strolling through Lebanon on the eve of the Six-Day War, and seems wholly uninterested in the modern land; his concerns are two millennia old. Ok, fine, but he doesn't make it terribly interesting. I'd recommend just about everything else he's written, but not this.

"The Hot Rock" and "Why Me?" are two more on the Dortmunder checklist. These are two of the earliest, and two of the weakest. Still funny, natch.

Chapeaux de Formosa

2010-10-24T20:31:00.004-04:00

In lieu of any actual writing, a photo from PPA pal MMW:

Posting continues to be sporadic, but that's because most of my energies are going to the book (that rumored book, that damned book). Earlier plans have been scrapped and I'm revising/revisiting a lot, but anyone who wants to read it in semi-serial form, drop me a note (either in the comments or at the rarely-visited PPA e-mail address).

* * *

No real reading lately -- can't focus on anything -- but I did get through one (re-read):

#48 -- "Jimmy the Kid" by Donald Westlake

Yes, another Dortmunder novel. I remembered not liking this one as much as the rest, but either that was erroneous or my tastes have changed -- laughed my ass off.

That's My Positive Outlook

2010-10-07T08:56:00.003-04:00

I recently was gifted (?) with a bunch of my old newspapering notepads that had been moldering in my folks' house for more than a decade. Being an environmental sort, I've been going through them and tearing out the old notes for recycling, while saving the unused paper so that I have more loose sheets of paper floating around the house.

95% of the notes are about horrible hippie bands in Boulder. 4.99% are administrative notes. And then there's this cheery one, apparently from 1998 and headed "Problems":

"Job: Unfulfilling. Soul-sucking.

Interpersonal Relationships: Mess."

I'm sure I was deadly serious when I wrote that, but today it made me laugh out loud.

* * *

Despite evidence to the contrary, I still do read books:

#43 -- "Be Not Afraid, For You Have Sons in America" by Stacy Sullivan

#44 -- "Upside Down" by Eduardo Galeano

#45 -- "My Battle of Algiers" by Ted Morgan

#46 -- "The Secret Pilgrim" by John LeCarre

#47 -- "The Geography of Bliss" by Eric Weiner

Whew. All good here, if you want the one-line wrap-up. Sullivan's book is on the Kosovo war, from a perspective I haven't seen much of: the KLA guerrillas' point of view. A worthy addition to my growing Kosovo library.

"Upside Down" is chicken soup for the lefty soul; energetic and inspiring, kinda preaching to the converted but with some interesting perspectives that I'd never considered. "My Battle" is a blunt, honest memoir of the Algerian war from the French side; riveting and harsh.

Like all of LeCarre's books, I loved "The Secret Pilgrim" -- it feels a bit lighter than some of his others as it's (essentially) a collection of short stories linked by a framing device, but I'll take light LeCarre over lots of other things. And "The Geography of Bliss" is a good time, funny as hell as Weiner travels the globe in search of joy. Made me really want to go to Iceland and Bhutan; made me really not want to go to Moldova. Obviously, I could have used this book in 1998.

Hodgepodge

2010-10-03T18:36:00.002-04:00

Line of the weekend:

"I used to take my clothes off to this song!"

-girl at bar, when something by Danzig came on

Worrying sign of the weekend:

After an insomniac night Friday, I went to the gym early Saturday. As I drove home afterwards, I had a moment of panic: "Oh, shit, did I forget to put my pants back on?" Good news: I was wearing pants. Bad news: dementia is obviously setting in.

That book thing:

Soon, promise.

Whoops.

2010-09-22T11:14:00.001-04:00

Blew that deadline. Haven't been posting on this either. Something coming soon, though, I hope.

Soundtrack to My Life

2010-09-07T19:49:00.003-04:00

I've been working out a lot lately. This is kind of big news, because "get in shape" is usually on the same level as "learn Czech" for me -- something I'd like to do, but I'd also prefer to just wait around until someone invents a way for me to instantly get in shape/learn Czech. But over the past couple months I've been pretty good about it, to the point where I made it onto my gym's "honor roll" for last month, something that I'm kind of ironically and kind of unironically proud of.

In addition to making me less fat, it's radically changed my music-listening habits -- prior to this I've been more jazzy/country than anything else for a while, but now it's all metal/hardcore on the iPod. Two of my all-time favorites, Son Volt and Steve Earle, have been purged from the device for now. Why? Not aggro enough. If it doesn't make me want to start swinging fists, it's not gonna be on there.

It's also reintroduced me to an old pal: Corrosion of Conformity more or less dropped off the map for me when I got a review copy of one of their mid-'90s albums, but goodness me "Animosity" is one astounding album and I should never have let it lay fallow. (I also gave "Wiseblood," the offending review copy, a new chance. Just... no.)

Also getting a new life in my playlist: the Bronx. Loved their first album, hated the vocals on their second. Still am not crazy about that one but it's not bad stuff for working out.

So a quick survey shows the top workout bands are: COC, Entombed, Speak 714, Die Kreuzen, Crucifix, Cult Ritual (thanks Brushback for bringing them to my attention a while back), and Kiss it Goodbye. All pretty tough stuff. It goes well with the steroids.

* * *

In other self-improvement/overdue notes: I've set myself a deadline of September 19 to have a first draft of my book more or less set. This comes with some possibility of sliding, but not much (and hence this public notice, so that I feel like more of an asshole if I fail). The absolute ending bit most likely won't be done, but the rest should be. So feel free to post angry comments on September 20.

I'll also be looking for volunteer readers, so start coming up with excuses now!

From the Archives

2010-09-05T13:14:00.001-04:00

Jotted down in my notepad, overheard a month or two back:

"It's almost that time of year -- the Little League World Series. Man, I love seeing 11-year-olds cry."

The Hockey Jersey Mystery

2010-08-31T21:03:00.005-04:00

I loved me some Hardy Boys when I was a kid, despite the Boulder Public Library's refusal to stock the books (oddly enough, they did have "The Ghost of the Hardy Boys" -- the memoirs of Leslie Macfarlane, a frequent contributor to the Hardy legend -- but only in a secret back room where you had to ask nice). I think the library's refusal was based on literary quality, but I got my hands on 'em anyway and read them avidly. I even, at one point, tried my hand at writing my own. "The Hardy Boys and the Graveyard Mystery" (because I liked spooky stuff) and "The Hardy Boys and the Mystery of the Emerald Guitar" (because I liked emeralds and I liked guitars. And, for that matter, mysteries). "The Graveyard Mystery" was actually performed as a play at Heatherwood Elementary, providing the high point of my literary career so far.

Now, it might be time for my third, because I've got a puzzler suitable for Frank and Joe (and Chet and Biff): The Mystery of the Milwaukee Admirals Jersey That is Mysterious. Rapt? I thought you would be.

Ahh, the Admirals. One of the venerable minor league teams. I've been pretty proud to have this in my collection -- it's a very nice jersey, and the Ads are one of those staunch midwestern minor league teams (like the Komets and K-Wings) that have been gallantly plugging along for years. They're a proud franchise if you ignore this, and this has looked nice in my closet.

But I've got way too many jerseys in that closet, to the point where it's tough to store clothes I might actually work, so I'm getting set to clean some of them out. And this one was on the chopping block ... to the point where I put it up on eBay this morning.

It was only up there for about two hours, because of ... this.

(pauses for gasps of horror)

It got a lot of rapid interest -- including a note from a Milwaukee jersey expert, who asked a few questions and also pointed out that I had the year wrong (oops) and also that, as far as anyone can determine, Ladislav Tresl never wore #11 for the Admirals. He wore #33 all three seasons he spent in Milwaukee.

And he's right. I've checked around, and there are plenty of records of Laddy wearing #33, none of him wearing #11 with the Admirals. Here's a team photo from the season of this jersey; it's a bit hard to tell, but Mr. Tresl is wearing 33.

The plot thickens, though. Tresl -- a Czech player, it's probably unnecessary to point out -- wore #11 throughout his Czechoslovakian career (spent with Zetor Brno, the forerunner to PPA favorite Kometa Brno ... this is where Frank and Joe would get so puzzled that they'd call in their dad, Fenton). And one has to ask -- who would forge a minor league game-worn jersey? (I bought it from an as-far-as-I-know-reputable dealer five years or so ago)

So my best guess -- and I've sent off e-mails to Milwaukee in hopes of sorting this out -- is that it's a preseason/training camp jersey. The letters are screened onto a nameplate, not stitched. There's also a general lack of wear (a little but not much).

This has nothing to do with our investigation, but I just always liked the anchors on the old Admirals jerseys.

A bit about our guy: Tresl (generally known as "Laddy" on this side of the ocean) was born in Brno and starred for the city's team throughout the 1980s. The Nordiques drafted him in the late rounds of the 1987 draft; he immediately came over and bounced around the minors (Fredericton, Halifax, New Haven, Milwaukee, Memphis) for seven years, with some good seasons but without cracking the NHL. He went back to Brno for a few years, then crossed the Atlantic one more time and closed his career in Waco. And, surprisingly, he stayed in Texas. Last I checked, he was coaching high school hockey and living in West, Texas. Comma intentional -- it's the City of West. That webpage actually gives a clue about why a Czech might feel at home there. It doesn't, unfortunately, give us any more clues about the jersey mystery.

Creepy Crawl

2010-08-30T19:34:00.002-04:00

I'm just tearing through the old-school paperbacks these days.

#42 -- "The Haunting of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson

Another one dredged up from the teen years. This is a masterpiece of never-quite-seen horrors -- nothing's ever seen head on and there is considerable question as to what the origin really is. I read most of this at home alone last night, and once the lights went out I became acutely aware of every creak and bump in my building -- and when my neighbor bumped something against the connecting wall between our units, I achieved levitation, my friends.

Messages to Myself

2010-08-30T07:56:00.003-04:00

I use the iPod Touch's "Notes" feature a bit inconsistently; I leave notes for myself on it and then forget about them for weeks on end. Hey, look at what I wanted to get at the grocery store last month! That sort of thing.

Went through it yesterday -- mostly reminders to myself of books, movies, or music that I wanted to pursue. But there is one that's puzzling me, from July 17:

"The Day I Realized I Would Suck at Evil"

What prompted this? A short story idea? A revelation about my own life? I have no clue.

* * *

#41 -- "The Ministry of Fear" by Graham Greene

First GG novel in a while! And this is a good one. Tense and thrilling, really fast and very unpredictable. All that combined with Greene's trademark cheery outlook on humanity. I've got a few of his novels that have been languishing unread for years and this might get me cracking.

Little Rip

2010-08-29T12:13:00.004-04:00

Cal Ripken Jr. (even now, it's hard for me to think of him without the generational title) turned 50 a couple weeks back. Contrary to the way these things usually work, that's actually made me feel young: if I'm 13 years younger than Cal, then perhaps there's still time for me. (to do what, I'm uncertain.)

Calvin Edwin Ripken Junior (I still remember the full name without looking it up; also that he was born in Havre de Grace. I've managed to forget his birthday, at least) was my favorite baseball player throughout the 1980s; this poster hung above my bed for years, only coming down when I moved to Arizona. It may seem hard to credit now, but he seemed relatively unappreciated in the 1980s; despite his successive Rookie of the Year and MVP awards, not to mention the 1983 World Series, he was playing third fiddle among AL shortstops to Robin Yount and Alan Trammell (and perhaps briefly, Tony Fernandez). If I remember right, this particular poster wasn't even listed in Sports Illustrated's vast poster ads.

Of course, after his second MVP award in the 1990s, he was anything but underappreciated. And his status as representative of "all that is good in baseball" probably got/gets a bit tiresome. But I still remain fond of the guy.

The Orioles haven't worn this uniform in more than two decades -- Ripken's hair probably hasn't been dark in at least that long. Nonetheless, when I think of the O's, this is the definitive image.

* * *

#40 -- "Echoes From the Dead" by Johan Theorin

A rare promise kept: I said the next book I read was gonna be another mystery, and lo and behold, it was. Theorin's latest novel beat out the late Stieg Larsson for some sort of Swedish award, so I was intrigued enough to grab this (Theorin's first, from a few years back).

It's interesting and nicely gloomy; it's got that "mystery of the past having reverberations in the present" thing that I'm always a sucker for. The plot kept me intrigued throughout. On the other side, none of the characters really grab me; Julia, the book's center, is pretty colorless. When she shows signs of emerging from her depression and regaining control of her life later in the book, we haven't really seen any signs leading up to this; it's just sorta "now, Julia is happier." Oh, okay.

The ending really threw me and I'm not sure yet how I feel about it. I was just about to write it off as "really weak climax" when it took a really sudden and unexpected turn; completely surprised me, but I don't know if that's just because there was no hint at all it might come. Don't know that I like the way it ended, but don't know that I don't.

All in all: an interesting but imperfect debut, and I look forward to reading the (aforementioned award-winning) second book, which got some really swell reviews.

Mystery Train

2010-08-22T21:12:00.003-04:00

#37 -- "The Girl Who Played With Fire" by Stieg Larsson

#38 -- "Nobody's Perfect" by Donald Westlake

#39 -- "The Blue Hammer" by Ross MacDonald

Not planned, but three straight books that you'd find in the mystery section at the local bookstore (and the next one probably will be, too). There was a time when this would be my regular reading pattern but it's been a while.

I was ahead of the curve on the first Larsson book, behind it on this one. I had some trouble getting into it, wondered if I would, then one night realized that I'd gone through 200 pages without thinking about it and was way past bedtime. I can't really remember how I felt about Lisbeth Salander in the first book, but in this one she's established as a really great, memorable character.

"Nobody's Perfect" -- ok, I kinda burnt out fast on my Dortmunder re-reads. This one seemed considerably weaker than the other two (still funny, just not as) and I dunno if that's a legitimate quality difference or just me reading three in a row really fast.

"Blue Hammer" -- once upon a time I considered MacDonald to be the third member of the holy trinity, with Chandler and Hammett at the other points. He's less appreciated (and was far more prolific) than the other two, but at his best it was no sin to speak of him in the same breath. This was the final Lew Archer novel, and while it's weak in some areas -- the plot really makes no sense -- it's the characterization, the desperation that makes it worth reading. In Chandler and Hammett, the crime becomes the centerpiece of the world; in "The Blue Hammer," it's just affecting a small group of sad people while the rest of the universe moves happily onwards. It's tragic and powerful.

Modern-Day Ruins

2010-08-12T21:24:00.003-04:00

I noticed this a while back, when my friend Nix held a party: a blasted out building, directly below her building's pool deck.

Turns out I'd actually been there. It's the old location for Loca Luna, now forgotten after a move. I'd actually been inside this building a few times back in the day, most notably the night before the 2004 tsunami. Looking at it from above, it didn't ring any bells and looked properly post-apocalyptic to push all my buttons.

Not sure what's in store for the space. It looks like it's been abandoned for decades, not a few years. In the grand scheme of things, in the good-for-Atlanta category, it'd be best if it gets snapped up fast.

For people who like urban decay, though, it's fantastic right now. It even has a 2000s-era ghost sign that looks like it dates to the 1940s.

Almost thoroughly disconnected, though it's still Atlanta: I can find sky porn anywhere.

Rusty, We Need To Talk

2010-08-09T17:25:00.003-04:00

I've been a fan of Ruslan Salei through thick and thin -- mostly thin -- since he came to the Avalanche. He's Eastern European (and from one of the very underrepresented Eastern European countries, too), and he's generally portrayed as a genial, level-headed guy. So that makes today's decision to sign with the Red Wings a mystery. Think this over, Ruslan: you've lived in California, Florida, and Colorado. You've been in North America for 15 years or so. How do you think Detroit is going to look by comparison?

Last week, out of boredom, I was assembling some Avalanche trivia (you kill time at work your way, I'll kill it mine) and I actually put together a list of players who have been on both Detroit and Colorado. It isn't pretty.

Jim Cummins. Eight games, two points, 65 penalty minutes with the Wings; 55 games, three points, 147 penalty minutes with the Avalanche.

I debated whether to count Cummins -- he played for the Red Wings before the Avalanche became the Avalanche -- before coming to the conclusion that it was already pretty lame to be assembling this list, and if I got to the point where I was agonizing over who to include, I was entering dangerous territory. His career was nicely arranged for the purposes of this pointless exercise -- he entered the NHL with Detroit in 1991-92, exited it with the Avalanche in 2003-04.

Advantage: Detroit. Cummins did his thing wherever he went, but he averaged 8 PIM per game in Detroit, which was undoubtedly more exciting. His points per game stat was higher in Detroit, too; .25 in Detroit, .055 in Denver. The Red Wings obviously got him at his best.

Uwe Krupp. 30 games, six points, 14 penalty minutes with the Wings; 144 games, 55 points, 90 penalty minutes with the Avalanche.

I remember exactly where I was when I found out Krupp had signed with Detroit -- in Harry Caray's restaurant in Chicago, having a boozy afternoon with my cousin. The news came up on ESPN; I watched drunkenly for it to come around again, certain I'd seen it wrong. I was shattered. Krupp was never a favorite of mine, but he scored the Stanley Cup winner in '96, and no one had crossed the line between the two teams.

The Avalanche had the last laugh; Krupp's stat line up there was over four seasons. Suckers. He was last seen coming to Atlanta to revitalize the defense here; pretty sure he should be off the injured list sometime next spring.

Advantage: Colorado. Most important stat: one Stanley Cup-winning goal.

Anders Myrvold. Eight games, one point, two penalty minutes with the Wings; four games, one point, six penalty minutes with the Avalanche.

Not much to say about Myrvold; the reverse of Cummins, he came in with the Avalanche, went out with the Red Wings. In the meantime, according to Wikipedia, he picked up a cocaine habit in Detroit. That remains the best thing to happen to anyone in that city over the past 20 years.

Advantage: wash.

Brad May. Who cares with Detroit, who cares with Colorado.

I'm still pretty disgusted that the Avalanche signed him. I was ecstatic when he went to Detroit, especially when he continued his rapid decline.

Advantage: wash. No one wins where Brad May is concerned.

Kyle Quincey. 13 games, one point, four penalty minutes with the Wings; 79 games, 29 points, 76 penalty minutes with the Avalanche.

There aren't a lot of things that make me laugh in my joyless life, but this is one of them. I can't remember why the Wings dropped Quincey (salary cap?), and I'm happy to have him with the Avalanche. Good solid defenseman, no complaints.

Advantage: Colorado by a whole lot.

Todd Gill. 104 games, 17 points, 79 penalty minutes with the Red Wings; 36 games, four points, 25 penalty minutes with the Avalanche.

I forgot him on the original draft of this list; he's one of those Rick Tabaracci-type players that I forget ever played in Colorado. I don't remember seeing him play with the Avalanche. Since I do remember seeing him get turned inside-out pretty regularly nearly a decade earlier, I imagine it was a grim spectacle.

Advantage: Detroit. Although you can argue that in terms of late-career Todd Gill, less is more.

So: Salei to the Wings. I can't imagine that this will turn out well for anyone involved. The Avalanche lose a Slav, the Red Wings are probably going to get something comparable to Krupp (low end) or Gill (high end), and a player I liked has to move to Detroit. Some days, no one wins.

* * *

#35 -- "Good Behavior" by Donald Westlake

#36 -- "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency" by Douglas Adams

"Good Behavior" is another Dortmunder novel, and I'd say it's funnier than the last one; it matches up with what I remember, that there was a steady increase in greatness up until they peaked with "Don't Ask," then a slow decline.

"DGHDA" -- not sure, but this may be the first time I've read this since it came out. I remember being disappointed in junior high that Adams didn't do another "Hitchhiker's" novel, and then liked the second book more than this one. The latter part of that holds. This is funnier than I remember, but often kind of aimless and occasionally too cute. I should really read the "Hitchhiker's" books again sometime soon.

Rest in Peace

2010-08-07T16:51:00.000-04:00

Tony Judt.

The world just got considerably less smart.

The Great Leap Forward

2010-07-31T17:45:00.004-04:00

I don't think anyone will ever beat Lots of Latin American metal blogs for pure spam awesomeness. Once a generation, you encounter a prodigy that's so far ahead of everyone else that it renders comparisons unfair. But if we ignore the outlier, I'm pretty pleased with the person who contacted me on Facebook not long ago:

"Greg, I am a female!!!
i like your profile!!! i do believe its... cool"

I do believe it is, indeed, cool. Sadly, the account has already been suspended, but they did have the foresight to let me know that I can contact them at "wetandhorny@whatever."

Meanwhile, "StopPaying4Sex" has started following me on Twitter, so I'm not sure what kind of signals I'm sending out to people.

* * *

#34 -- "The Bank Shot" by Donald Westlake

I hadn't read one of the Dortmunder novels in a really long time, so I picked the shortest one off the shelf. Don't have a lot to say, I've loved these for going on 20 years now; if you like a good laugh, you'll like these.

Scratched

2010-07-25T12:06:00.003-04:00

Been a long time since I've done one of these. Too long.

Libor Zabransky, 1996-97 Worcester Icecats home jersey. There's a lot of mid-'90s minor league type stuff here that normally bugs me; the "Ice" prefix on a team name, the cartoon mascot, the funky letters and numbers. Nonetheless: I love this jersey.

I don't know if Bush League Factor ever took on the Icecats -- I think defunct teams are removed from the site, right? -- but there's a lot to work with here. The jovially snarling Icecat, apparently decapitated by a hockey stick, with a mountain range (does Massachusetts have mountains?) in the background, all on top of a big "W". I don't know what it all means.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't the trend toward funky lettering start with the Tampa Bay Lightning? Yes? No? If so, they have a lot to answer for. In the 1990s, if you went to a jersey designer and said "give me something hip! Something extreme! Something the Offspring would like!" you'd get something like this.

Despite all this '90s excess, and all these criticisms, I love this jersey. It's giant (Zabransky was 6'3", 230), it's heavy. I don't mind the teal or turqoise or whatever that shade is. It's a jersey that got heavy use, and it's got a lot of character.

A claw-mark motif shows up throughout -- I think "Scratch" was the Icecats' mascot. I should note that I unironically love the back-number 5 with chunks torn out of it.

Do a Google search on "Marane oil heat," and about half the responses are in reference to Icecats jerseys. I'm gonna guess that means the company isn't around any more, but I could be wrong.

A bit on Zabransky: he was a big Czech defenseman, a late-round pick of the Blues in 1995. He was over here for two seasons, split between the NHL and AHL; I'm not totally positive but I think he was pretty injury-prone. He went back to the Czech Republic afterwards and played a few years for HC Vsetin, HC Sparta Praha and HC Pardubice, but had to retire really young due to a heart condition.

In recent years, he purchased the PPA's official team, HC Kometa Brno, and has done nicely with them -- as previously noted in this space, under his watch they've gone from insolvency back to the first division. There's an article on the team and Libor here.

(as always, jersey post concept originated by Mr. Tap E. Leg)

* * *

#33 -- "The Throat" by Peter Straub

This is the third book in a loosely-connected trilogy that also included the much-loved (by me) "Mystery," and honestly, I remember being pretty disappointed by it when it came out. I understand why, though I'm over it now -- at the time I wanted more adventures of Tom Pasmore, Sarah Spence and Lamont von Heilitz, but the latter two are only mentioned and Pasmore's a supporting character.

Never mind any of that, because this is a very strong book -- stronger than "Mystery," maybe, though occasionally really frustrating. Timothy Underhill (a character in "Koko" -- don't remember if he's in "Mystery" at all) comes back to his hometown to try to solve decades-old serial killings that seem to have started up again. It's very tightly plotted, very compelling, and it caught me off guard (even though it was a re-read) several times. I liked it much more than I remembered.

The frustrations mostly come from the characters (and some of it's by design). Underhill is a bit of a flaky character, and there's never a question of him taking responsibility for the way his (sometimes rash) decisions impact others. That, at least, is part of his character. More irritating is John Ransom, a supporting character and one of the main parts of the book -- his personality changes from curious intellectual to overgrown frat guy depending on what is needed from him at that part of the book. Very inconsistent and it seemed like there were just a bunch of rotating cardboard characters, all bearing his name.

Still, a great read. I'll get back to "Koko" one of these days, to finish it off.

Arizona Hardcore Documented

2010-07-22T20:50:00.002-04:00

Apropos of nothing, other than I've been cleaning out:

I remember scattered bits from this show. I didn't go up to Phoenix shows much despite the city's proximity; Phoenix and Tucson had the minor rivalry of the otherwise irrelevant, kind of like the Oilers-Flames of the '90s. This was pre-fame Offspring but we probably went up more for 411 -- Dan O gave a shout-out to the Tucsonans, which undoubtedly thrilled us. After the show Brendan Groundwork and I interviewed the Offspring on some guy's back porch. They were a bit stoned, probably horrifying straight-edge us, but genuinely nice and thoughtful people. As a result, when they later became the symbol of everything that was wrong with the decade, it was kind of sad, like seeing a well-liked second cousin get picked up on a morals charge.

Counterpunch was one of two notable Phoenix SE bands at the time, the other being Stand to Reason, with which they shared something like 75 percent of their membership. They put out a 7" of fairly standard moshcore (which I ordered from "Statue Records" and never received, and that's why I remember all this) then switched singers to some grunge dude, added a spazzy funk element to their sound, and sounded ... about as good as you'd expect a straight-edge band pretending to be the Red Hot Chili Peppers to sound, I guess. Actually, that's probably a bit unfair -- the first time I saw them I really thought they were cool, but it wore off fast.

411 and Triggerman played together twice in Tucson, which was actually a bit notable -- I think that since they were ex-members-of the same bands, they wouldn't play the same shows in California. But my memory of those years is getting sketchier. Outreach was kind of Groundwork's little brother band -- either they started as Forthright and then changed to Outreach, or vice versa. It wasn't easy, naming a straight-edge band in those years.

My brother probably did this flyer, since it shows some graphic design skills. The background image was the cover of one of Groundwork's 7"s.

And this must be from the other 411-Triggerman show in Tucson. The OC visits were pretty big events; we promoted them relentlessly and got a (DPC) capacity crowd every time these bands came out. Judging by the sloppy design work and the "let's see what Word Perfect has" fonts, I was the one who created this flyer.

* * *

#32 -- "A Cup of Coffee With My Interrogator" by Ludvik Vaculik

Vaculik's always been sort of on my radar as a prominent Czech dissident writer, but I'd never read him until now. I have a taste for this sort of thing, obviously, but even so I'm impressed. I got this thinking it was one of his novels, but nope -- it's a collection of short pieces (here called "feuilletons," and we've all learned something today) on the life of a dissident in 1970s Prague.

By this point, it seems, the real fear was past and all that was left was a malignant bureaucracy, trying to grind down rather than crush. Vaculik responds with dry humor and guts -- he sees the silliness, but he's not always willing to laugh it off.

One of the essays -- and I've already misplaced my copy, goddamn me -- deals with anti-intellectualism in Prague. It rather neatly anticipates the Tea Party, 25 years in advance. And that's one of the great things about this book; they're tied to a specific time and place, but often, they've got a timeless impact.

L L the L

2010-07-15T17:47:00.002-04:00

When Tapeleg enticed me to Time Warp, I didn't come through it free and clear: there's a brand-new Legion of Super-Heroes series, something like the 47th reboot since I first discovered the title, and it's written by Paul Levitz. Levitz -- some background -- wrote ALL the LSH comics of my childhood, just about every issue from 1982 on. He stopped in 1989, about the time 16-year-old me moved to Tucson, and (I think) hadn't been back since.

Reunions are often a disappointment for all involved, but I couldn't really pass this up -- I bought the first two issues of the new series. The verdict? Kind of a fun nostalgia trip. Levitz is still good at a lot of the things he was known for: setting up a ton of little plots and letting them develop slowly, somehow getting 20+ characters to develop personalities without making the comic feel crowded. The art is mostly by Yildiray Cinar, and it's pretty good -- I initially thought the cover to #2 was by Steve Lightle, and believe me you, there's no higher praise.

Will I keep buying it? Eh, I dunno. I get the sense (perhaps unfairly) they want to make sure it ties in to the wider DC Universe, and that seems like a pretty joyless place these days -- looking at the covers of Green Lantern, Green Arrow, JSA, etc. didn't entice me to throw down $3.99 (!) for anything besides the LSH. And I don't get out to comic stores too much any more, so perhaps I'll just wait for the trade-paperbacking of the title. And really, I don't need any more stuff hanging around my place, so, probably not. But hey: it's a fun little ride, and I'm glad that there's still some life in the franchise. I wish it well.

* * *

#31 -- "The Wonga Coup" by Adam Roberts

One of the weirder international stories of the last few years -- a group of mercenaries who tried to overthrow the (itself bizarre) government of Equatorial Guinea, and it would seem to be pretty rich material. So I had high hopes for this, but it was only ... okay. Very compelling in some parts, then it just draaaaaaags in others. I came away without any sympathy for any of the principals, which is quite a feat.

Posterized

2010-07-09T19:29:00.002-04:00

I'll admit it: I was feeling really, really smug about not watching the LeBron James extravaganza on television last night. Instead I had a nice meal of takeout Thai, and drank heartily of a La Fin Du Monde beer ... as I followed the whole thing on Twitter instead. That's right: I sat there and read the Twitters of people who were actually watching the thing I refused to watch. I don't even like basketball. Next time you're wondering "What's wrong with America?" just look at the signed, framed photo of me that's up above the mantel, and you will have your answer.

* * *

Another from the vast poster archive found in my parents' basement:

In the late '80s, the throwback industry was nowhere near as big as it is now, and when I saw this on a door in a Tucson Mall shoe store, it was a revelation. I didn't think such things were accessible to commoners like me. This was in my "I don't think about anything except for baseball and horror fiction" period and this poster was as good as porn.

They gave me the poster when I asked, probably not without a little confusion, and also special-ordered one of the 1950s Orioles caps pictured. Kind of pointless, because the Orioles had just gone back to a very similar design, but whatever. (It was also a fitted cap, which taught me that I really hate fitted caps)

The poster was for the American Needle and Novelty Company, which is still around, and still making cool old baseball caps. They also sued the NFL in a high-profile case, something that I remember hearing was going to change the landscape of sports as we know it. I haven't noticed the changes yet, unless it's responsible for the LeBron thing.

* * *

#28 -- "The Intuitionist" by Colson Whitehead

#29 -- "Welcome to the Terrordome" by Dave Zirin

#30 -- "A Season on the Brink: A Portrait of Rafael Benitez's Liverpool" by Guillem Balague

Intuitionist: So I finally got around to reading Whitehead, and boy was it good. A jittery, claustrophobic book, all nervous energy and strange twists. Some heavy stuff but still fast reading. I'll get to him again.

Zirin: I don't always like my sports and politics to collide, but this was good (and made me feel a little guilty about not wanting the two to meet). The pieces on Roberto Clemente and the New Orleans Saints were both great, and the soccer chapters downright fantastic. A little overly strident at times but it got me to think of some things a little differently.

Liverpool: Eh. Really good and insightful in the soccer strategy/building a team pieces. Really kind of insipid in the parts about how Benitez is different than other managers and how Liverpool fans are different than other fans. Of course, this was written right after some major successes for Liverpool; I'm reading it after watching them slog through an uninspiring season, followed by Benitez's exit. Pretty dated, just four years on.