Seeing Red

Thought I’d share my personal story on the passing of Red Auerbach last week:

I was 16 years old and the sports editor on my high school newspaper.
> That same year, Red came out with his autobiography Red Auerbach: On
> and Off the Court. Red and I were both residents of Montgomery
> County, Maryland, and somehow I learned that he would be speaking at
> our local JCC as part of their annual book fair. So I made a few
> calls, and the head of the book fair arranged for me to attend the
> talk and sit down with Red afterward for a one-on-one interview.
> Pretty big stuff for a young Jewish reporter, though Red and Sandy
> Koufax have always inspired highly conflicted feelings for me; I am a
> Yankees and Bullets fan (born in Bronx, raised in Maryland) just as
> much as I am a Jew. I HATED the Celtics. The fact that Koufax and
> Auerbach played for my biggest rivals was twistedly b'shert.*
>
>
> I arrive at the talk with notepad and handheld tape recorder. There
> are about 20-30 people in attendance. So I'm sitting there, listening
> to and recording the talk and taking notes, just hoping Red didn't
> talk longer than 60 minutes because I didn't have a backup tape. Red
> is regaling everyone and smoking a cigar in a public building (ahhh,
> the
> 80's) and people are enjoying his talk, though I would say he was less
> than a Clinton-esque public speaker. So now it's Q&A time and some
> people are asking questions. I figure I'll get a head start on the
> interview, so in one of a lifelong series of fateful mistakes, I raise
> my hand.
>
> Red pointed his cigar at me and said "Okay, this kid, he's dressed
> nice." (gray crewneck sweater over dress shirt tucked inside sweater
> collar, tan
> slacks) I stood up and squeakily asked "what was the single most
> important thing that separated your Celtics from Wilt's 76ers in the
> 60's?" Red paused, took a big puff on his cigar, paused again, and
> was about to answer my question when he said "son, is that a tape
> recorder in your hand?"
>
> "Uh, yes. School newspaper."
>
> Red shook his head, muttered "next question" and turned his attention
> elsewhere. I didn't sit down as much as I dissolved into my chair.
> Another guy started asking him a question but Red interrupted him,
> turned back to me and said "son, what you did tonight was a terrible
> thing. I might say something I don't want to be repeated, and you
> would have it on tape, and that's illegal." Then he went back to the
> other guy. Hey, thanks for the advice Red!
> Three things:
>
> 1) it is legal to tape any public speaking engagement in Maryland, and
> practically anywhere else in the 50 states;
>
> 2) I had received permission to tape his talk from the book chair
> woman beforehand, and
>
> 3) can I have my soul back?
>
> I sat there until the end of the talk, picked my heart up off the
> floor and headed out the doors, too mortified to show up for the
> post-talk interview (big mistake, and in fact a friend of mine
> interviewed Red instead. But at the time I was way too nervous and
> intimidated to recover). I stood catatonically outside the auditorium
> while some friends consoled me, then I went home to tell my eagerly
> expectant family that Red took all 16 NBA title trophies, melted them
> down into one large blunt object and used it to teach me the meaning
> of the word respect. It was a somber eggplant casserole I ate that
> night in the Kranz household.
>
> The next morning I am walking around school, still in shock, when I
> get a call to come to the front office. It's the book fair lady on
> the phone, telling me that Mrs. Auerbach (who died in 2000) was
> standing outside the waiting to drive home with her husband and
> overheard what happened to me, and on the way home she gave Red an
> earful for being such a lout to a young reporter, and that Red called
> and wanted to do "something to make it up to that kid."
> Wow. So that's what brought me back to the JCC 2-3 days later, at
> which time the book fair lady bestowed upon me an autographed copy of
> Red's autobiography, and an inscription. "To Joshua Kranz:
> You were doing a job. I apologize for getting on you. You didn't
> know what you were doing - Red Auerbach."

A prick to the end, and the greatest Jewish sports figure of all time. F__ the Celtics

- JK

* “meant to be” in Yiddish

A LIST FROM OUR APARTMENT RENOVATIONS THAT I NOW BELIEVE WORKS MUCH BETTER AS POETRY

Dining room light
Backsplash is sloppy, needs to be cleaned up.
Stains and marks on backsplash
Gap on backsplash, right side
Dishwasher not attached, is loose, needs to be attached
Doors and side panel to cabinets, back panel to bar
Paint over mark on wall near front door
Extra shelves for closet and pantry
Redo rubber strip on shower door
Fix/check pole/shelves in shower
Paint the bathrooms
Metal shelf
Spice rack
Tie rack
Glass shelf in dining room

Credit for cabinet above refrigerator
Credit for lighting

World Series/Shmorld Shmeries?

I don't understand all these oh-so-clever columnists making the case that MLB has to change the name of the World Series, because not that Japan won the WBC they are the real world champion, or some such nonsense. Does anyone honestly believe that if the 2005 Chicago White Sox played the 2006 Japan WBC squad, that it would take the Sox more than five games to win? the White Sox were the best team in the world in 2005, just like the Marlins were the best team in the world in 2003, and the Angels in 2002 (did i skip anyone? I don't think so...). The World Series stays as is. So it shall be written. So it shall be done.

A study just came out which concluded that six months of regular exercise can undo thirty years of inactivity and poor habits. This has me very excited. I have been out of shape for 4-5 years now, so I have another 25 years before I have to hop on the treadmill like a gerbil in a habitrail. Now excuse me while I grab my second lunch of the day.

oh the juices are flowing now

Some thoughts on the Oscars, which I think makes me the 10 millionth blogger to offer a unique insight in the past 24 hours:

The only dramatic moment during any of the major award presentations was Crash's surprise victory for Best Picture. Even the supremely unflappable Jack Nicholson was moved to say "Whoa!" as he made the presentation. The cast's impromptu celebration was giddy enough to make the 36 Mafia look droll. Ryan Phillippe was greased lightning as he rushed across the room to join the party, his wife Reese Witherspoon left to celebrate with her newly-acquired golden boy. Clearly, the cast and crew of Crash did not expect to win the Best Picture award. Brokeback Mountain was the odds on favorite and, in my opinion, was the superior movie. BM had emotional depth and persuasion that Crash's contrived melodrama couldn't match, despite fine performances from most of the sterling cast.

It's likely that Crash benefited from a strong PR campaign to the Oscar voters, or perhaps there were other politics afoot. What struck me was how different an Oscar upset is from an upset in sports. When a sports underdog wins, it has defeated the favorite on a level playing field. The Goliath has been slain by an expert sling shot. Goliath usually has noone to blame but itself and its subpar performance, or sometimes the Goliath does almost everything right (Georgetown 1985) and still loses to a truly superlative effort. In the case of Brokeback Mountain, however, most people agreed that after watching both movies - in fact, after watching all five nominees, Brokeback was the most deserving of the Oscar. Both the Wall Street Journal and Entertainment Weekly, with two very disparate readerships, had Brokeback as the odds-on favorite going into Sunday. One could argue that the Academy voters have very different, more refined tastes than the moveigoing public AND most critics. Otherwise, one must conclude that there were factors totally unrelated to the actual content of the two films that pushed the plurality of votes in Crash's direction.

In this respect, the "upset" win that Crash pulled off cannot carry the same level of satisfaction for the victors that as a sports upset earned on the playing field. To win by superior PR or other external chicanery falls short of becoming a compelling memory for those who watched last night's telecast. Can you imagine Jon Stewart asking "do you believe in miracles?" at the end of the show last night? Neither can I.

what have I done

I am just old enough to have no idea how to operate a blog, change settings, hyperlink with panache, draw advertising revenue, change the world with the click of a mouse...and here I am with my very own blog.

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Twix break.