A few weeks ago, my brother and I took my girls to see the Jim Henson exhibit now running at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. The wonderful exhibit chronicles Henson’s entire career, from commercials and Jimmy Dean talk-show appearances in the 1950s and ‘60s through the mega-success of Sesame Street, The Muppet Show, Fraggle Rock and the Muppet movies in the final two decades of Henson’s life.
I saw this exhibit with Eric and the girls in late September – before the passing of Steve Jobs, before the release of the latest Wilco CD, and before the St. Louis Cardinals’ stunning World Series victory. But as I reflect on these very different events from Autumn, 2011, they all remind me of that very rare individual – the one who can visualize and create something that is not there. Jim Henson, Steve Jobs, Jeff Tweedy and Tony La Russa fit that bill – and for different reasons.
Henson is so well-known for his creative genius that Jobs placed him and Kermit the Frog on one of Apple’s “Think Different” ads in the 1990s. Take a single image from any Muppet – say, Kermit playing the banjo at the start of The Muppet Movie – and you find yourself shaking your head at the sheer ingenuity. Since his death last month, Jobs has been eulogized by many as his generation’s Thomas Edison for his contributions to the technological revolution in which we currently reside. As Guggenheim perfected the printing press, Jobs perfected the smartphone. Jeff Tweedy has led Wilco to a place where pop music defies categorization, and that is meant as the highest compliment. Is this band, now well into its second decade, a pop band? Rock? Alternative? Country? Roots? The more you search for a clean label, the more elusive – and hypnotic – Wilco becomes. And as for Tony La Russa, anyone who is willing to buck the status quo in baseball deserves some kind of plaque in Cooperstown. La Russa’s willingness to think different in how to use pitchers and position players alike – and his ability to win a World Series with the likes of pedestrian players such as Nick Punto and John Jay in his starting lineup – is puppetry at its finest.
Tony La Russa retired yesterday – more than 2,700 wins were apparently enough for the man, and he’s ready for something else in life. With his jet-black hair and his bowl haircut, La Russa looks a bit Muppet-like. He and Jim Henson would probably have a lot to talk about. La Russa would surely compliment Henson on his adroit use of lesser-known puppets such as Bunsen and Beaker. Henson would likely fine-tune the Cardinals’ “rally squirrel” to give it a more human dimension. Jobs would probably recruit them both for an iPhone commercial, complete with Wilco soundtrack.
Yes, the geniuses are out there, and they’re still changing the world. It may seem as if we’re living amid a whole lot of ordinary sometimes. But in spite of the reality-show nonsense and movie-sequel mania, there are still innovative entertainers creating great art for us all. And despite the copy-cat technology in your nearest Best Buy, there are still inventors changing the way we live. Somewhere beyond all those American Idol songs, there are also still musicians crafting truly new sounds. And way out beyond the SportsCenter highlights, there are women and men thinking about sport in ways that no one has dared to think before.
The exhibit in Queens is titled “Jim Henson’s Fantastic World.” As we scan the headlines and the cable channels, this world doesn’t seem all that fantastic sometimes. But if we look within, open our minds and think different, it can seem damn near amazing. Great enough to make a frog sing. Or a Cardinal cheer.
Showing posts with label Wilco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wilco. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Innovators (One Sixty-Two: Day 144)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Forty-Four: Gio Gonzalez, Oakland Athletics
It is a landmark of ingenuity, nestled in the Berkshires inside a maze of brick mill buildings. The Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, known as MASS MoCA, has been around for more than a decade now. However, it is growing in scope, ambition and popularity with every year. This weekend, my wife and I had the chance to pay a visit.
The museum, located in North Adams, Mass., takes your breath away from the moment you see it. The 13-acre complex features 26 buildings along with numerous courtyards, passageways and tall windows, to go with a giant metal sign atop the roof featuring the museum’s name. Inside, the visitor encounters a stunning array of contemporary art, including a three-floor retrospective of Sol Lewitt’s wall drawings, a vast exhibit featuring everyday material items inside giant rooms, and a collection of ambitious sculptures by Petah Coyne. Oh, and did I mention Leonard Nimoy’s photos of individuals showing off their “secret selves”? Or Natalie Jeremijenko’s outdoor sculpture featuring telephone poles and upside-down trees? And we haven’t even gotten to the museum’s concerts (including a recent summer festival starring Wilco), nor have we discussed its theater, dance, films, kids events and dance parties.
Sometimes, when you think different, you create amazing things. As MASS MoCA continues to grow, the other old mill buildings in North Adams have become home to artists’ lofts and galleries. The downtown features dozens of galleries and very few empty storefronts. A walk through the street on a Friday night found busy restaurants and a live musical performance in a gallery. This is a town to which Amy and I both plan on returning, sooner rather than later.
Think different. The Oakland Athletics have been following this motto for years now, using their data-driven philosophy, immortalized in Michael Lewis’s book Moneyball, to change the way baseball players are valued and scouted. In the past few years, though, the A’s have fallen under the radar, as their offense has dissipated and they have traded away several veteran players.
Of course, the team’s front-office, led by general manager Billy Beane, was up to something clever all along. As baseball steps forward into the post-steroid era, Beane was re-making his team around pitching. And so, as the A’s stand solidly in second place in the American League West this year, they do so behind the arms of some very exciting young pitchers. Some of these starters, such as Trevor Cahill and Dallas Braden, are homegrown A’s who were drafted by the team itself. Others, however, such as lefties Brett Anderson and Gio Gonzalez, were craftily acquired via trade.
Gonzalez, for instance, was obtained from the Chicago White Sox a couple of years ago in exchange for outfielder Nick Swisher. It turns out that the Sox moved Swisher along to the Yankees after one year, while Gonzalez has quietly become one of the American League’s best left-handed pitchers. This year, he has 14 wins, a 3.16 earned-run average and 153 strikeouts in 179 innings. A few days shy of his 25th birthday, Gonzalez is at the heart of the new-look A’s – a team that’s not afraid to beat you 1-0 if that’s what it takes.
When we try bold new innovations, we often surprise people. And before they know it, those people are waiting in line for playoff tickets in Oakland – which, by the way, could happen as soon as next year. Or maybe they’re letting their GPS or Mapquest lead them up to North Adams, Mass., to walk through some old mill buildings and experience art as they’ve never seen it. Take some creativity, a dash of forethought, and a whole lot of guts, and you might get something that surprises the world. Like a museum in the mountains that feels cooler than cool.
Day One Hundred Forty-Four: Gio Gonzalez, Oakland Athletics
It is a landmark of ingenuity, nestled in the Berkshires inside a maze of brick mill buildings. The Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, known as MASS MoCA, has been around for more than a decade now. However, it is growing in scope, ambition and popularity with every year. This weekend, my wife and I had the chance to pay a visit.
The museum, located in North Adams, Mass., takes your breath away from the moment you see it. The 13-acre complex features 26 buildings along with numerous courtyards, passageways and tall windows, to go with a giant metal sign atop the roof featuring the museum’s name. Inside, the visitor encounters a stunning array of contemporary art, including a three-floor retrospective of Sol Lewitt’s wall drawings, a vast exhibit featuring everyday material items inside giant rooms, and a collection of ambitious sculptures by Petah Coyne. Oh, and did I mention Leonard Nimoy’s photos of individuals showing off their “secret selves”? Or Natalie Jeremijenko’s outdoor sculpture featuring telephone poles and upside-down trees? And we haven’t even gotten to the museum’s concerts (including a recent summer festival starring Wilco), nor have we discussed its theater, dance, films, kids events and dance parties.
Sometimes, when you think different, you create amazing things. As MASS MoCA continues to grow, the other old mill buildings in North Adams have become home to artists’ lofts and galleries. The downtown features dozens of galleries and very few empty storefronts. A walk through the street on a Friday night found busy restaurants and a live musical performance in a gallery. This is a town to which Amy and I both plan on returning, sooner rather than later.
Think different. The Oakland Athletics have been following this motto for years now, using their data-driven philosophy, immortalized in Michael Lewis’s book Moneyball, to change the way baseball players are valued and scouted. In the past few years, though, the A’s have fallen under the radar, as their offense has dissipated and they have traded away several veteran players.
Of course, the team’s front-office, led by general manager Billy Beane, was up to something clever all along. As baseball steps forward into the post-steroid era, Beane was re-making his team around pitching. And so, as the A’s stand solidly in second place in the American League West this year, they do so behind the arms of some very exciting young pitchers. Some of these starters, such as Trevor Cahill and Dallas Braden, are homegrown A’s who were drafted by the team itself. Others, however, such as lefties Brett Anderson and Gio Gonzalez, were craftily acquired via trade.
Gonzalez, for instance, was obtained from the Chicago White Sox a couple of years ago in exchange for outfielder Nick Swisher. It turns out that the Sox moved Swisher along to the Yankees after one year, while Gonzalez has quietly become one of the American League’s best left-handed pitchers. This year, he has 14 wins, a 3.16 earned-run average and 153 strikeouts in 179 innings. A few days shy of his 25th birthday, Gonzalez is at the heart of the new-look A’s – a team that’s not afraid to beat you 1-0 if that’s what it takes.
When we try bold new innovations, we often surprise people. And before they know it, those people are waiting in line for playoff tickets in Oakland – which, by the way, could happen as soon as next year. Or maybe they’re letting their GPS or Mapquest lead them up to North Adams, Mass., to walk through some old mill buildings and experience art as they’ve never seen it. Take some creativity, a dash of forethought, and a whole lot of guts, and you might get something that surprises the world. Like a museum in the mountains that feels cooler than cool.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
October 1993
It was the fall of ’93, and I was busy typing up resumes and cover letters in my parents’ basement as my stereo pumped out the music of Pearl Jam and Nirvana. I had just graduated from college, and was hungrily looking for my first newspaper job. With our country crawling out of a recession, I was casting a wide net, firing out resumes to papers in every mid- and major-size city in America, as well as to papers in Ireland, England and Canada. It was a time of anticipation and hope for a 22-year-old. While doing all this, I had half an eye on the TV screen, where the Chicago White Sox were playing the Toronto Blue Jays in the American League Championship Series, and the Philadelphia Phillies were taking on the Atlanta Braves for the National League pennant. Bo Jackson was challenging his White Sox teammates to bring their games to a higher level, while the Phils’ Curt Schilling was pitching like a man who knew what the postseason was all about.
I’ve been thinking of that period, 15 years ago, as I reflect on the impending reality that 2008 will mark the first autumn since’93 that Major League Baseball is holding a postseason and the Yankees are not a part of it. Like any baseball fan, I’m disappointed that my favorite team doesn’t seem to have enough muscle to push their way into the playoffs. And yet, as I think back on 1993, I remember surviving that year just fine. So as I think ahead to next month, I also see much room for personal fulfillment even without a Yankee playoff game.
As a baseball fan, I’m eager to see young teams like the Brewers, Twins, Rays, Diamondbacks and Cubs vie for a playoff spot and a title. As a Yankee fan, I’m looking forward to watching the team unload some of the high salaries and re-tool. And I must say, some of the New York playoff rituals were getting a bit tiresome – the Irish tenor singing “God Bless America,” Rudy Giuliani clapping from his seat behind home plate, the Joe Torre investment commercials, even – dare I say it – the Jeter fist-pump.
When I think back to ’93 and the Yankees, I remember that being a year in which the team’s future started to unveil itself. We realized that year that it wouldn’t be long before New York returned to the playoffs for the first time since ’81, as the superb young players they’d grown from within had actually not been traded during George Steinbrenner’s two-year exile from baseball. The organization had realized that if you drafted great talent and nurtured it, you could be in pretty good shape once you added the right mix of veterans. In 1993, no Yankees player epitomized the future more than the guitar-playing center fielder, Bernie Williams.
Number 51 was still figuring out how to avoid pickoffs on the bases and when to lay off the breaking pitches at that time. But man, he could hit and run. And as time passed, we realized that this man possessed a brilliant combination of talent and class. He was the kind of player who could hit a walk-off home run in a tension-filled playoff game, then put his head down and run the bases without showing off the opposing team. He was a man who seemed to know that his intense passion on the field would only be maintained by having other interests (such as classical guitar) off the field. He never showed up the fans, and always maintained his cool under the hot lights.
As the Yankees close up their old ballpark and prepare for the new one, there has been no tribute to Bernie Williams. The old center fielder last played in the major leagues during the 2006 season and had a falling out with the team during spring training last year. Whatever was said during that time, the Yankees organization should be fully capable of moving beyond it and retiring No. 51 before the stadium closes. When a man helps his employer make billions of dollars with skill, effort and integrity, he deserves to be honored. When he’s not, the employer looks ungrateful.
Until I see No. 51 hanging up in left field with the other retired numbers, I won’t be too teary-eyed about the Yankees missing out on any playoff series. I’ll keep an eye on Ryan Braun, Alfonso Soriano, Evan Longoria and Chris Young, as they vie for a title. I’ll listen to my music – more Wilco and Beck these days than the grunge music of ’93. I’ll keep up my writing and my teaching. And life will indeed go on.
I’ve been thinking of that period, 15 years ago, as I reflect on the impending reality that 2008 will mark the first autumn since’93 that Major League Baseball is holding a postseason and the Yankees are not a part of it. Like any baseball fan, I’m disappointed that my favorite team doesn’t seem to have enough muscle to push their way into the playoffs. And yet, as I think back on 1993, I remember surviving that year just fine. So as I think ahead to next month, I also see much room for personal fulfillment even without a Yankee playoff game.
As a baseball fan, I’m eager to see young teams like the Brewers, Twins, Rays, Diamondbacks and Cubs vie for a playoff spot and a title. As a Yankee fan, I’m looking forward to watching the team unload some of the high salaries and re-tool. And I must say, some of the New York playoff rituals were getting a bit tiresome – the Irish tenor singing “God Bless America,” Rudy Giuliani clapping from his seat behind home plate, the Joe Torre investment commercials, even – dare I say it – the Jeter fist-pump.
When I think back to ’93 and the Yankees, I remember that being a year in which the team’s future started to unveil itself. We realized that year that it wouldn’t be long before New York returned to the playoffs for the first time since ’81, as the superb young players they’d grown from within had actually not been traded during George Steinbrenner’s two-year exile from baseball. The organization had realized that if you drafted great talent and nurtured it, you could be in pretty good shape once you added the right mix of veterans. In 1993, no Yankees player epitomized the future more than the guitar-playing center fielder, Bernie Williams.
Number 51 was still figuring out how to avoid pickoffs on the bases and when to lay off the breaking pitches at that time. But man, he could hit and run. And as time passed, we realized that this man possessed a brilliant combination of talent and class. He was the kind of player who could hit a walk-off home run in a tension-filled playoff game, then put his head down and run the bases without showing off the opposing team. He was a man who seemed to know that his intense passion on the field would only be maintained by having other interests (such as classical guitar) off the field. He never showed up the fans, and always maintained his cool under the hot lights.
As the Yankees close up their old ballpark and prepare for the new one, there has been no tribute to Bernie Williams. The old center fielder last played in the major leagues during the 2006 season and had a falling out with the team during spring training last year. Whatever was said during that time, the Yankees organization should be fully capable of moving beyond it and retiring No. 51 before the stadium closes. When a man helps his employer make billions of dollars with skill, effort and integrity, he deserves to be honored. When he’s not, the employer looks ungrateful.
Until I see No. 51 hanging up in left field with the other retired numbers, I won’t be too teary-eyed about the Yankees missing out on any playoff series. I’ll keep an eye on Ryan Braun, Alfonso Soriano, Evan Longoria and Chris Young, as they vie for a title. I’ll listen to my music – more Wilco and Beck these days than the grunge music of ’93. I’ll keep up my writing and my teaching. And life will indeed go on.
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