It's a long season. That hasn't changed. I acknowledge that fact, and that we are only at Memorial Day as I write this, and that they are only five games out of the division lead at this point. But I don't think the Phillies are going to be playing for any championships this year.
Now, I certainly do hope I am wrong. Their recent run of five straight division championships, along with their style of play and the character of the players, has made this Phillies team the most memorable of my lifetime, possibly my favorite baseball team ever, and most probably the best team in Philadelphia Phillies history. But they're scuffling now, and all signs point to a drop off that will be difficult to overcome.
Yes, their best offensive players have been injured all season. Yes, there have been some injuries to the pitching staff. And yes, there was enough shuffling in the off-season that you can make the case that it's just taking a little while for things to gel. But I think there's more going on here than a minor, temporary dip in the team's fortunes. The evidence points to an ending rather than a new beginning.
Cliff Lee was hurt for a while there, but even so he should not be winless for the season. The bats have been mostly mute without Chase Utley and Ryan Howard in the lineup...and that's part of the problem. There doesn't seem to be much faith in anyone in red pinstripes that those two guys are actually going to play this season. Other teams have guys on the DL, but those teams nevertheless carry on without the missing pieces, and do so with confidence that those players will be contributing soon. (Though Boston has been very up and down, they remain a confident team despite the number of key injuries they've suffered.) And now, with Roy Halladay potentially showing breakdown signals, everything points to a siuation that's about to turn from bad to worse.
Of course, it's possible that everything will turn out right in the end. Maybe the ship rights, guys who've been hurt come back on or ahead of schedule, and the machine starts rolling through the NL again. It just doesn't feel like that's going to happen. The current Philllie team feels more like a squad that is under siege, a team where every time something positive happens (taking three out of four from the Cardinals this weekend, or perhaps seeing one of the big bats back in the lineup soon), some new calamity rises up and takes a big chunk out of them for another foreseeable future.
It happens. Good teams, even great teams, often have that one season in the midst of their run where, for whatever reason, nothing goes right and a whole year is lost before they bounce back. The A's of the late '80s-early '90s were like that: three straight league championships, then one oddly off year in '91 before a bounce back season brought another division title in '92. The Yankees and Dodgers back in the '70s met twice in consecutive years in the World Series, then took the next two off before meeting again in '81. I could probably cull through baseball history and come up with more examples, if it weren't so late now.
So how about it? Can't the Phillies do the same thing? Can't they win next year, if not this year? Maybe. I hope they do. But I also know that there are plenty more examples from baseball history of good teams that had their run, and then dissipated once age and player movement took their toll. I fear we're seeing the latter development in South Philly. So I'm bracing myself, and reminding myself whenever I grind my teeth a little too hard over another loss to the goddamn Mets: Appreciate the good times of the last five years. It was fun while it lasted.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Shins Shine
Back in the old crescent & crossbones days, I used to do much more in the way of music reviews, along with the still chugging along (barely) book and movie reviews (Recently Read and Reel Reviews, respectively). I abandoned that habit, both because I just don't dive into the new music pool very often, and because I came to the conclusion that I don't have much to offer in the way of music criticism. It's easy to say you like, or don't like, a song or album, but it's not nearly as easy as it is with books and movies to say why you should or shouldn't like any particular piece or collection of music. To me, it really does come down to a matter of taste, and who's to argue about that?
Nevertheless, once in a while a new musical work comes along that just compels me to speak up--and that happened earlier this year with the release of the latest from The Shins, Port of Morrow. I've been a Shins fan ever since Chutes Too Narrow, or perhaps even earlier with the big breakthrough hit "New Slang" in the movie Garden State. The arrival of Wincing The Night Away back in 2007 cemented The Shins as my favorite "now band"--a hip, current outfit I could point to as at least one example of a group I like that is relevant today, to complement my gigantic stable of favorites from back in the day.
Imagine then, my disappointment when over four years passed with nary a whisper from The Shins. Of course, front man James Mercer--at this point, Mercer is The Shins--had a foray a couple of years ago with Broken Bells, but the one song I heard from that project ("The High Road") never sparked for me. Soon enough, I resigned myself to the inevitable and assumed I'd have to be satisfied with a couple of really good albums, and leave it at that.
Thankfully, I was wrong. Port of Morrow came along back in March, heralded by the pre-release single "Simple Song"...and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I could tell, on first listen, that there were a few songs that would grow on me, but nothing leaped out the way, for instance, "Gone for Good" or "Girl Sailor" had from the previous albums. I was almost willing to chalk it up as a loss--another album from a favorite artist that, for some reason or other, just bombed with me, like Imaginary Kingdom from Tim Finn. (Sorry, Tim. IK's no Before and After, that's for sure.)
Eventually, though, I had the good sense to burn the album onto a CD--they're still useful for some things--and started playing the thing in my car as I drove. The breakthrough came, not as any snap! "Eureka!" moment, but more as a slow-motion immersion into the heart of the music. After numerous listenings, during which I could feel the songs growing on me, I'm ready to declare Port of Morrow a triumph, maybe even the album of the year--even better than the recent release Wrecking Ball from my longtime favorite, Bruce Springsteen. Mercer's words and music offer something so unique that you really do need to give them repeated hearings before you can understand what's going on. It's only after hearing these songs enough to get the echoes ringing inside your head that tunes such as "For A Fool," "Fall of '82," and "40 Mark Strasse"--the song trio that delivers as the album's late, illustrious crescendo--can have their greatest impact. Their 'bright melancholy,' paired with more ebullient tracks like "Bait and Switch" and "Pariah King," run the listener through an entire gamut of musical expression like few other artists working today can achieve.
So my sincere thanks to James Mercer for giving us at least one more piece of greatness to add to the Shins' catalog. Or, to counterpoint the plaintive cry that ends both "Pariah King" and the album, "Yes, Jimmy, yes."
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| Port of Morrow by The Shins, available now. |
Imagine then, my disappointment when over four years passed with nary a whisper from The Shins. Of course, front man James Mercer--at this point, Mercer is The Shins--had a foray a couple of years ago with Broken Bells, but the one song I heard from that project ("The High Road") never sparked for me. Soon enough, I resigned myself to the inevitable and assumed I'd have to be satisfied with a couple of really good albums, and leave it at that.
Thankfully, I was wrong. Port of Morrow came along back in March, heralded by the pre-release single "Simple Song"...and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I could tell, on first listen, that there were a few songs that would grow on me, but nothing leaped out the way, for instance, "Gone for Good" or "Girl Sailor" had from the previous albums. I was almost willing to chalk it up as a loss--another album from a favorite artist that, for some reason or other, just bombed with me, like Imaginary Kingdom from Tim Finn. (Sorry, Tim. IK's no Before and After, that's for sure.)
Eventually, though, I had the good sense to burn the album onto a CD--they're still useful for some things--and started playing the thing in my car as I drove. The breakthrough came, not as any snap! "Eureka!" moment, but more as a slow-motion immersion into the heart of the music. After numerous listenings, during which I could feel the songs growing on me, I'm ready to declare Port of Morrow a triumph, maybe even the album of the year--even better than the recent release Wrecking Ball from my longtime favorite, Bruce Springsteen. Mercer's words and music offer something so unique that you really do need to give them repeated hearings before you can understand what's going on. It's only after hearing these songs enough to get the echoes ringing inside your head that tunes such as "For A Fool," "Fall of '82," and "40 Mark Strasse"--the song trio that delivers as the album's late, illustrious crescendo--can have their greatest impact. Their 'bright melancholy,' paired with more ebullient tracks like "Bait and Switch" and "Pariah King," run the listener through an entire gamut of musical expression like few other artists working today can achieve.
So my sincere thanks to James Mercer for giving us at least one more piece of greatness to add to the Shins' catalog. Or, to counterpoint the plaintive cry that ends both "Pariah King" and the album, "Yes, Jimmy, yes."
Somnambulance
I am more than a little bit sad, frustrated, and nonplussed that this is the first post I've written in a month for this blog. I would give the tired, weak, and frequently quoted excuse that I just haven't had the time to make any new comments here, but that just doesn't cover the story. The plain truth is that, while I do seem to be the busiest part-time employed, work one day a week person on the planet, that's not what's keeping me away from Malchats Matters.
I think the grim reality has more to do with my living arrangements than anything else. It's now been six months since I broke down the most recent Heavily Fortified Bunker and moved in at my mom's place, and the erosive--indeed, corrosive--effects of that household set-up have been grinding down on my sense of having my own life. This is, after all, a touch of cyberspace that is designed to be a virtual adjunct to my life--and with the life I call my own squeezed down into such a narrow space in the real world, it makes perfect sense that I wouldn't have much to add to the Internet annex.
For one thing, the current set-up allows little time and space for me to do much reading; thus, very few Recently Read editions. Given mom's virtual monopoly on the main TV, watching movies has become a null program. (I have been re-watching old episodes of The Simpsons [seasons one through four, so far; now into season five] on the computer in my bedroom; that has taken away time and space that could be devoted to films.) And I suppose I just haven't been as active an observer on the scene as usual, and thus not so much a commentator on that scene.
But beyond all that, there's simply the fact that all I really think about these days is how much I hate the current arrangements, and if I were posting here regularly, all I'd really be doing is bitching about that. And, of course, that's exactly what I DON'T want to do. It's what I hate about most blogging to begin with (as well as its twisted virtual baby brothers, Twitter and Facebook): the false, narcissistic, unmerited belief that anyone gives a shit about the minutiae of your life. That's not what Malchats Matters is all about, despite the title. I want to express thoughts, and occasional feelings, about things that are relative to, but outside, my own life--not just wallow in my own filth. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, one of my sent-out resumes will strike literal pay dirt, and I'll have the chance to redevelop my sense of the world beyond my own (basically nonexistent) plot of earth.
Until such time, I ask for patience, both from myself and any reader who happens to stumble upon this Internet backwater.
I think the grim reality has more to do with my living arrangements than anything else. It's now been six months since I broke down the most recent Heavily Fortified Bunker and moved in at my mom's place, and the erosive--indeed, corrosive--effects of that household set-up have been grinding down on my sense of having my own life. This is, after all, a touch of cyberspace that is designed to be a virtual adjunct to my life--and with the life I call my own squeezed down into such a narrow space in the real world, it makes perfect sense that I wouldn't have much to add to the Internet annex.
For one thing, the current set-up allows little time and space for me to do much reading; thus, very few Recently Read editions. Given mom's virtual monopoly on the main TV, watching movies has become a null program. (I have been re-watching old episodes of The Simpsons [seasons one through four, so far; now into season five] on the computer in my bedroom; that has taken away time and space that could be devoted to films.) And I suppose I just haven't been as active an observer on the scene as usual, and thus not so much a commentator on that scene.
But beyond all that, there's simply the fact that all I really think about these days is how much I hate the current arrangements, and if I were posting here regularly, all I'd really be doing is bitching about that. And, of course, that's exactly what I DON'T want to do. It's what I hate about most blogging to begin with (as well as its twisted virtual baby brothers, Twitter and Facebook): the false, narcissistic, unmerited belief that anyone gives a shit about the minutiae of your life. That's not what Malchats Matters is all about, despite the title. I want to express thoughts, and occasional feelings, about things that are relative to, but outside, my own life--not just wallow in my own filth. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, one of my sent-out resumes will strike literal pay dirt, and I'll have the chance to redevelop my sense of the world beyond my own (basically nonexistent) plot of earth.
Until such time, I ask for patience, both from myself and any reader who happens to stumble upon this Internet backwater.
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