Still Burning Bright

...In the forests of the night. The reference is not to the latest brush fire in a series that has encircled the Los Angeles area during this endless heat wave, but to the amazing Detroit Tigers, who, at the two-thirds pole of this baseball season, have the best won-lost record in the game and a healthy seven-game lead over two strong adversaries, the White Sox and Twins.

Detroit's sudden leavening this season from its twenty-year sojourn through Mediocrity is baseball's best story this year, taking the sting out of the Barry Bonds steroid scandal. I am not a Tiger fan but I am most impressed with their efficiency and rise from a team that lost 119 games just three years ago. People in Kansas City must be shaking their heads, not to mention Cub fans.

I look at their line-up and cannot understand why they are so successful, winning more than two-thirds of their games. Okay, they have solid veterans in Pudge Rodriguez and the always underrated Magglio Ordonnez, but have been getting amazing production from such relative unknowns as Brandon Inge and Marcus Thames (whose first major league home run was as a Yankee, off Randy Johnson). But it's mostly been a tale of their pitching, which has coalesced with Bonderman and Maroth, the startling rookie Justin Verlander, and the addition of old pro and general asshole Kenny Rogers. Manager Jim Leland, a Wise Old Man, has guided this mix brilliantly. It's a shame, in a way, because he will get tremendous credit and win Manager of the Year, when the most amazing job has actually been done by Joe Torre, who's kept the Yanks alive despite losing half the line-up to major injury. Leland would not have been so fortunate if he lost Pudge, Ordonnez and Guillen as the Yanks have lost Sheffield, Matsui and Cano.

But I do look for that race to tighten, as both the surging Twins, with the league's two best pitchers in Liriano and Santana, as well as the slipping but still powerful White Sox, will be challenging Detroit for the division title and the potential Wild Card spot. And a similar state resides in the American League East, where the Yanks, Red Sox and Toronto make a fearsome threesome. At this juncture the Yanks are only 1 1/2 games behind Boston, again a testament to brilliant managing, Jeter and Giambi, and the Yankee mystique. It still seems likely only one of these three teams will make the play-offs. And in the AL West, where Oakland and the Angels have been switching places on top, it is actually a free-for-all among all the contestants; the four teams are separated by 3 1/2 games. I still pick Oakland to win it, but their pitching had better move up a notch.

That leaves a remarkable ten AL teams with a shot at the pennant, and the National League has almost as many contestants. The Mets are still dominant in the East, but with Pedro's bad foot and declining performances by their other starters, their position as League favorites is in jeopardy. The Phillies have pretty much bowed out with dreadful hurlers, and the Braves are making a comeback with their usual second-half magic. Though they have a way to go, I still predict them to be the Wild Card team, which means having to mute the play-off games whenever the fans do the Tomahawk Chop and the offensive chant. But at least there wil be no more than two NLDS games at Turner Field.

The Cards have more than enough to glide into another title, with the surprising Reds hanging in thanks to Harang and Arroyo, the latter being the most successful off-season pick-up for any team. Houston just can't get their offense untracked, though they also have a history of strong finishes and it's ahrd to discount the pitching trio of Oswalt, Clemens and Pettitte. I think Houston and Cincinnati will batter each other during the Last Third and hand over the Wild Card to Atlanta. As for the West, who the fuck cares. Oh yeah, I think San Diego's in first place now, but tomorrow it will be Arizona, or San Francisco, and next week maybe Colorado. Only the Dodgers have begun to sink out of contention, somewhat to my surprise. The failure of their front-line pitching aside from Brad Penny has pretty much doomed them, and manager Grady Little doesn't have the imagination to fashion a winning team without the horses he used to have in Boston. The Dodgers could probably have done better with Jim Tracy, though he is hardly pulling rabbits out of his hat in Pittsburgh.

Still, the National League has eight legitimate contenders at this stage. With eighteen Major League teams in place for post-season play, the trading market, usually frenetic at the end of July, has been sedate. The disappoointing Brewers traded free-agent-to-be Carlos Lee to Texas and received two young, good hitters, in Kevin Mench and Laynce Nix, as well as closer Fransco Cordero. That was a good trade for the Brewers, though the Texas offesne will get a nice little B-12 boost. Alfonso Soriano will probably be moved from Washington by Monday, to whichever team is so desperate for a quick fix that they are willing to sacrifice major prospects for a two-month rental. I just hope it's not the Red Sox.

Nature Will Find a Way

Last week the Wall Street Journal's vaunted editorial page lashed out againt the doomsayer's who claim that global warming is real and largely caused by human pollution. Why they would waste ink and paper (valuable resources) to perpetrate its stubborn Luddite ignorance is unclear, except that it is probably that rag's unstoppable reflex to deride anything spoken by Al Gore. The editorial referred to two scientists who they claim refute the conclusions of the Evil Scientific Community. One of them has already responded that she said nothing of the kind, that global warming is real and terrifying and urgent. She also made reference to a scientist of yore who declaimed till his dying day against the concept of continental drift, long after it had been accepted by the establishment.

Okay, global warming is scary, and there may be an impulse to deny it because its ramifications are of literally global consequence on a scale way beyond our comprehension. But to avoid the obvious seems to be wildly wrongheaded and perhaps fatal to our species. Every day it seems more and more like we are existing within a familiar Science Fiction scenario, last popularized in the somewhat silly "Day After Tomorrow," in which the Vice President ignored the warnings of climatologist way after it was too late to act. In that movie, the Earth was plunged into a sudden Ice Age, so it can hardly be viewed as a docudrama for the near future. But Al Gore's movie "An Inconvenient Truth," and its follow-up by Tom Brokaw in a Discovery Channel special that reiterated Gore's findings, make a very compelling case for Global Warming as a residual effect of fossil fuel emanations and carbon dioxide emissions.

An even more compelling case is being made every day, outside, even as I write. The temperature outside in normally temperate Southern California is in the blistering 90s Fahrenheit. In the San Fernando Valley it has goine into triple digits regularly the past two weeks, leading to greater power usage and occasional brown and blackouts. (Just what the situation needs, more power consumption!) When a meterologist was asked if the continued heat wave was a result of global warming, the response was a very quizzical "No--it's the result of a large high pressure region centered mid-Continent." However, the meteorologist added, "Global warming is the real deal." This nonsensical non-denial denial, probably done for measured and political reasons, is like someone claiming that it's not swimming that gets you wet, it's the water in which you swim.

If there is a single statistic that clearly stands on its own, it's that twenty of the last twenty-one years have seen the highest mean world temperatures in recorded history. The one exception was probably the year that Mount Pinatubo spread some cooling clouds over the earth, dampening the heating effect. But twenty out of twenty-one is more than a random chance. And to cap it off, 2006 has been highest of them all.

On Saturday the temperature reached 119 degrees in Woodland Hills, a town just north of me in the San Fernando Valley. That was the highest recorded temperature ever in the Los Angeles region. I experienced some of it, as I attended a poker game over the hill and even at 7 P.M., exiting my car was like entering a very uncomfortable sauna at the gym. On top of that, traffic lights were malfunctioning all over because the power grid has been wildy oversapped. Oh, what fun. And I was reminded of that classic "Twilight Zone" episode when the Earth had lost its bearings and was heading toward the sun.

At the game, the subject of the weather naturally came up, and one wagster opined that it was silly to worry about global warming when World War III was about to overtake us thanks to the upheaval in Lebanon (or North Korean adventurism, take your pick). It struck me then that that might provide nature's perfect solution. If there is thermonuclear war, the nuclear winter--like a super Mount Pinatubo eruption--would instantly drop temperatures twenty-or-so degrees, totally neutralizing the effects of Global Warming. Ta-da! Everything will be fine again, except we will all be dead.

That wouldn't be so bad either; at least I'd be spared any more watching Arod continue to strike out with the bases loaded.

What, No Hurricanes?

If I had reason to be spiritually downcast last week with another hollow Independence Day celebration, the developments since then have been even more dispiriting, if that is possible for a week in which I was not personally physically ill.

I received an e-mail from my Rotisserie partner on Tuesday saying "devastating news about Darryl," and I was hoping against hope that something dreadful had happened to Darryl Strawberry (against whom I hold no grudge) because the alternative would have been more dreadful. As it was, the alternative was what happened--a member of my Rotisserie League named Darryl had succumbed to prostate cancer. Of course he was about the nicest guy I've known. (Only the good die young, as our benevolent "god" decrees). A loss for his family, for his friends, the League, and Hollywood in general. Also a reminder of my own fragile health in that regard.

Then there are the wildfires growing in an overheated Southland, the impending death of the beloved but unsalvageable horse Barbaro, and--last but clearly not least--an impending conflagration of the entire Middle East.

A few months ago I read an article somehwere that warned of a high possibility for regional war in the Middle East as early as this summer. Like most jeremiads, it set off a defensive denial in my consciousness, just as Republicans are trying to deny that global warming is impacting us already. But now that first prediction is coming to awful fruition, as Israel has responded to a provocative act by Hezballah with a vigorous (to put it mildly) attack on the nation that harbors the terrorists. It is hard to condemn Israel for its reaction against an established group that is being financed by Iran and has sworn to destroy Israel. Whether the fury of Israel's attack is "disproportionate" is certainly arguable.

But it is also moot. Ohmert's decision to go to full-scale war against a terrorist organization is rather Bushian in its naivite. Sure, in the short-run Hezballah will be hurt, but at what risk? Large attacks foment other retaliatory acts. And I'm not just referring to missiles being lobbed over the entire Israeli territory, with the threat of expansion into Syria, Iran etc. If we think that this is confined to that nasty region of religious fanaticism, then we have all forgotten 9/11, London, Bali, and Mumbai (whatever happened to Bombay, I've thought irrelevantly).

I am currently writing this as two ambassadors, one from Israel, the other from Syria, are arguing on "Hardball" about who is more in the wrong; the Syrian refuses to sit in the same studio but will talk from an adjacent room. Diplomats squabble, innocents die, weapons are brandished and God is pleased. I hope very much for Israel's survival, but think it out, guys--can so well-entrenched an organization as Hezballah, and its terrorist allies, be wholly defeated by any military attack? At best they would be driven into their caves, more bitter and mroe resolute to continue their attacks. It would be easier to wipe out all the cockroaches in the world.

So much shit, so little time.

ZZ, Nutmegs and the World

I engaged in an interesting role-reversal activity yesterday, playing World Citizen with a semi-feigned interest in the World Cup finale between Italy and France. The sport of soccer has never really engaged me, though I'm sure if I were English, or raised by a father who immersed himself in soccer lore as I actually was by a diehard baseball fan, my preferences would have been different.

So it was with my next-door neighbors, a Greek-American family with little tolerance for baseball but universal knowledge of soccer (which they called football, sneering at the American usage of that term). They cordially invited me over to a World Cup party, which made up for my lack of invites for the Super Bowl extravaganza. An added incentive was the culinary attraction of a menu made of specialties from the competing countries--lasagna, quiche and chocolate souffle. Plus an HD-TV screen, congenial company and a commute of about eight feet. So who was I to quibble about a game I found uninvolving (embarrassingly, as do most Americans).

This was a gathering of about a dozen folks, most of whom could recite arcane statistics about World Cup matches past, great defensive plays, teams with the most championships, etc.--precisely the kind of nonsense that I find so riveting in the world of baseball. But here I was the newcomer, slowly acclimating to the subtleties and pace of the game, if not attuned to its true nuances. The experience though, was largely positive, for I did pick up some of the lingo and a sense of its history, and my knowledge increased about a thousandfold over what it was before the World Cup series began a month ago. I can now say things like "handball" and "stoppage time" and actually know of what I speak. I sort of understand the onside rule. And instead of explaining the infield-fly rule to a polite observer during an October play-off game, here I was learning about the peculiarly named "nutmeg," a graceful running maneuver involving kicking the ball between the legs of the defender and picking it up again.

The game itself was more exciting than I'd have guessed. I've always objected to the low level of scoring in soccer, and the deflating effect a first score has on the the opposing team. In this match, however, France scored early on a penalty kick, and Italy bounced right back with a "header" off a corner kick. The game then remained scoreless through regulation and two overtime periods, to be decided by the intense goal shoot-out which Italy won for two reasons--a French kick nicked the top of the goal and bounced off, and French star Zinedine Zidane, their best player, was booted from the game for an unsportsmanlike head butt before the shoot-out.

Zinedine Zidane! What a wonderful name. With an eagle's nose and a intense buzz-cut he made an imposing, charismatic figure, rather like a leering young Patrick Stewart. The heart of the team, he was responsible for the penalty goals scored by France in this match and in the previous semi-final victory over Portugal. But in a moment of high emotion he lost his composure, retaliated grossly against an opponent and cost his team the best scorer it had. Those watching with me commented that this disgrace would live with him forever; despite his greatness, he would have a Bill Buckner shadow hanging over him for as long as World Cup play is remembered, which is a long time. He wasn't allowed to return to the field to accept his second-place trophy--such is the dishonor of attaining a red card.

The winning Italians also had their share of heroes, including the slick defenseman Fabio Canavarro and the robust Luca Toni, who sounded either like a pasta or a victim of the Corleones. For some reason, all those in attendance at the gathering were pulling for the Italians. They found it easy to dislike the French, who would probably be universally despised if it weren't for our recent international arrogance that took the heat off the Gauls.

I must admit there are some advantages to soccer over American football and baseball. I like the continuous action and a clock that never stops. All the commercials have to be bunched in the beginning and between halves, which makes it perfect for TIVOing. Rules of battle are much more civilized, and any contact is frowned upon with a yellow card (if accidental) or severe red card (if intentional). I do think the subjective responsibilities of the refs to determine "intent" makes them more integral to the game than in American sports.

I am not a convert--to admit soccer has any value compared with local patriotic sports like Nascar would immediately brand me as Hating America. But I'm glad to have had this experience among knowledgeable fans. At my age any novelty is intriguing. And I was also watching an event that will be more enduring on the world scene than either the World Series (inapppropriately named until it's pan-Hemispheric at least) or the Super Duper Bowl.

Independence Day Blues

Though I am terribly overdue, I was too headstrong to compose my blog on a National Holiday; to write on the Fifth of July would evoke the play by Lanford Wilson (a very good one); and I was too lazy to write yesterday. Running out of reasons, here I am, to report on why this years's Independence Day was among the most depressing on record.

It's not because the Yankees lost 19-1, though I'm sure that humilated free-spending George Steinbrenner. It's not because my elderly Mom, whose birthday it also was, cut my conversation short so she could go off to a bridge game. And it's surely not because of the passing of Kenneth Lay, whose "heart attack" a few weeks before his jail sentencing set off alarums of skepticism ringing throughout the land. Nor was it that I discovered that, even with the finest high-def TV picture, fireworks still come off blandly on the screen.

I started reading the LA. Times' Op Ed page, and most columns, including the editorial, pointed out the disparity between the ideals established by the Founding Fathers and the way that they have been systematically undercut since the terrorist attacks of September 11 turned us into a fortress nation. What most disturbed me on that Awful Morning, even more than the horrific deaths of all those involved, was the likelihood that we would, from that point on, slowly regress into a police state, with Security becoming the dominant issue that would drive all other national policies. Certainly, with Guantanamo, the Iraq War and the largely sanctioned phone and wiretapping that has ensued, we are well on the way.

Equally depressing, in the comics section, no less, was a panel called "Mallard Fillmore", drawn by conservative cartoonist Bruce Tinsley. I certainly respect the right and need of contrary opinions in the Times, and will usually read the conservative columns as well. But this one struck me as particularly irresponsible because it made a caricature of Al Gore as a flaming alarmist whose campaign about Global Warming is another silly liberal plot to undermine our industrial complex.

I have seen the Gore movie, and now NBC is airing a two-hour special underscoring the same frightening statistics. For anyone, even a conservative, to try to undermine these valid points is not only stupid, it is dangerous and as unpatriotic as it gets, unless he enjoyed the drowning of New Orleans and looks forward to the same inundation in Florida, Calironia, Texas and New York.

There are apparently no established scientists who contest that CO2 levels are spiking like the Stock Market in 1999, and that historically, terrestrial temperatures have followed the same contours as the CO2 line. And the consequences of such temperature increases are already being witnessed, in the melting of large portions of Antarctica, the Arctic Ocean and Greenland; the severity and elongation of the hurricane season; the killer heat wave of Europe in 2003; the extended drought in our Southwest; even the bizarre series of storms that barraged the East Coast last week. A tree trunk fell in front of the White House. That was a warning, too.

Of course, Bush and his Merry Band of Idiots, while acknowledging that global warming is probably valid, don't seem to want to do anything about it, especially sign the Kyoto accords or mandate tougher emission standards for our automobiles (among the laxest standards in the world). Acoording to Bush, it's is not the government's role, and he hopes that private industry will voluntarily work to decrease the noxious emissions. Sure, and Ken Lay really did die of a heart attack.

It seems clear that human activity has grossly enhanced the carbon emissions, but even were that not the case, the levels are where they are, and if the governments of the world, in a coordinated effort, do nothing about it, there will be a catastrophe in the next couple of decades unlike anything since the Great Plague, and perhaps worse, because it will be irreversible. So I would suggest that a government machinery that was so avid to save the comatose Terri Schiavo and to deny gay people marital rights actually start addressing itself to the true issues of national security, and that goes way beyond nutso terrorists. Interestingly, in the last week the latest silly issue has been the proposed Constitutional Amendment to ban flag burning. Well, even if it passes, it will become moot in a few more years. The flags will all spontaneously combust.