The Giants pulled it off last night – barely. It seems they thrive under pressure like our two presidential candidates. But unlike the Giants, we have to live with one of these people for the next four years. I wish we had a probationary period of a year, then we re-evaluate if the new president is doing his job or not. I like how the British handle their politicians. If there is a loss of confidence and support, they step down and call for a new election. I’m always amazed how many are waiting in the wings to fill the vacancy. You’d think the British would need a few months to ask for resumes to find someone who was a good fit to lead the country. Instead, you wake up the next day to see a new prime minister move into 10 Downing Street.
This year American politics has succumbed to an all-time low. It reminds me of a bull fight, except instead of a bull and a matador, we have two bulls locking horns and skewering each other. The issue of character, composure, and class has been trampled. Neither one has given us their plan for the country except in sound bites. If you’re interested, Hillary says to go read her book. I saw it in Costco last week. It’s a paperback that looks like it’s been culled together overnight by a team of star-struck high schoolers in a stuffy basement somewhere. It’s written for an eight-year old reader. That shows you what she thinks of us, or is the book for the non-American and non-citizen who is going to vote this year?
The Giants play again tonight. They must win if they’re going to stay in the game. As for Donald and Hillary, I’m hoping neither wins. Their VP candidates would make better presidents.
Calvin says, “Stick to baseball. At least there’s a ball to play instead of dirty laundry.”
Everyone loves to win. Last night the Giants won the game with the Mets. Today in the office the mood was lighter, there were more smiles, and people were huddled in small groups discussing the plays.
I rushed home last night to see the game on TV. Nada. None of the major networks was televising it. I was shocked.
I checked the Internet for live streaming. Nada. I had to download flash players and create accounts in order to see the game.
What once was the right of every American to see baseball on TV for free has been usurped by grubby hungry cable companies in order to make more money.
That’s just plain un-American.
It’s time for a revolt.
Let’s all go to our local sports bar and view the games there. That will teach these cable guys they can’t mess with the public like that.
The bars would love the business, and we’d enjoy watching with others who are mad with us. Besides, it’s more fun being together. After a few drinks, and lots of peanut shells on the floor, we can be as noisy as we want together.
Calvin says, “I’m mad with you. It’s like removing all the rabbits from a field. It leaves you bereft.”
Yesterday I watched the US vs Belgium soccer game.
It was intense.
For the full 90 minutes neither team scored, but they did a massive amount of running across the field.
Belgium had more shots on goal than we did, but because of Tim Howard’s talent, our goalie, we blocked all the balls.
That’s when it unraveled.
Both teams were exhausted, but nevertheless they rallied for a last ditch effort and with it came the goals.
Things ended up 2-1 in favor of Belgium.
So we’re out, they’re in.
However, I must say this time our US team did an outstanding job of playing.
They’re coming into their own. They looked like a soccer team and played like one.
That’s huge for a country that’s obsessed with the other two ball games.
Most of the matches at this World Cup have been played well and have been entertaining.
And it’s been good that our US team has joined that league.
My everyday morning commute to work is your typical jammed-packed-full-of-bodies-on-a-train experience. Nothing romantic or inspirational about it. I serves me well for characters in a story, for recording dialogue, and for picking up nuances of personality.
This morning, however, I met a character that made me laugh out loud.
His name is Buddy.
But Buddy is no ordinary personage.
He’s an English bulldog with panache.
I’ve seen Buddy before. He’s usually on the other side of the street with his owner, in an enclosed area between two buildings, barking at an orange ball the size of a watermelon. His owner is usually on his cell phone, so Buddy has to wait to get his attention. Hence the barking. Then his owner kicks the ball and Buddy waddles after it with more barking. His barking sounds more like snapping with a smoker’s voice. It echoes down the street and commands attention.
This morning I heard the snapping before I saw Buddy. This time he was on my side of the street. I rushed to catch up to him.
That’s when I laughed out loud.
I caught up to him at the curb waiting for a car to clear the street. Buddy seems to know about streets and curbs and traffic because he was waiting patiently there. His skateboard had flipped over, exposing the four orange wheels. It seems orange is Buddy’s favorite color. He snapped and gnawed on one of the wheels.
“Flip it over,” his owner said.
Buddy barked with frenzy.
“Come on, Buddy, flip it over,” the man said.
Buddy opened his mouth, bit down on the wheel he was conversing with, and with a turn of his head, flipped the skateboard onto its right side. Then he nudged it with his nose, which in his case was his entire face, and pushed it across the street, which by now was empty of cars. Once on the next street, Buddy hopped on, peddled with his front right leg, gathered speed, then climbed on for the ride.
“How did you teach him to do this?” I asked the owner, a man as strong and street smart as Buddy.
“He taught himself. One day he got on it, and it’s been his thing ever since,” he said.
I looked up and Buddy had hopped off just in time before the skateboard crashed into a tree. It flipped over.
Apparently Buddy knows about trees, too.
“He’s getting good exercise,” I said.
“Yea, I’m hoping it will lengthen his life. His breed doesn’t live long, eight to ten years. Maybe with all the exercise he’ll live to be twelve,” the man said.
Then he added, as if talking more to himself than to me. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him. I like him better than people.”