There will be blood (and Mickey Rourke)

Needless to say, there are many things I just don't get. The list is vast. Long enough even to fill all the space available on this server. But before we dive into the mysteries of chemistry, calculus and why hockey fans bother to care why the rest of the sporting public doesn't care much for their sport[1], I hope there is someone who can explain the allure of the television broadcast of the Academy Awards.

I get the Academy Awards as much as my wife understands the appeal of a 162-game Major League Baseball season, the three weeks of the Tour de France or why I sit on the edge of my seat to watch people run for 26.2 miles. No, it's not insanity or some sort of self-mutilation. Far from it. Instead it's an appreciation of nuance and ... wait, no, it's insanity.

So tonight I will join in some good, old-fashioned insanity and watch the Super Bowl of glamour (nice sports metaphor, huh?), debauchery and depravity with my old lady (it's a term) and tune into the Academy Awards. I will also comment on the fashion choices of the stars in attendance without irony. The fact that the accessories worn by Angelina Jolie will likely cost more than my house isn't the issue. Instead, I will just act like the Academy Awards are oh so important and are rightly celebrated at a level higher than the Nobel Peace Prize.

So as America spirals into the cultural and economic abyss, we might as well handicap it. Might as well check into that whole live Twittering thing, too. Might be going to hell in a bucket, babe, but at least I'm enjoying the ride.

Here goes, and yes, I know there is no way to judge art or acting unless all of the actors play the same part. I also know that the Academy Awards are inherently a big pile of BS.

Supporting actress: Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button OK, I hated this movie. Actually, that's not right... I hate racism and inequality. I just disliked The Curious Case of Benjamin Button a whole bunch. Nevertheless, I couldn't wait for Ms. Henson to get back on the screen. More importantly, Ms. Henson shares the same birthday as Ted Leo (same date and year according to wikipedia), was born in The District (holla!) and kicked ass in Hustle & Flow. She can act the way you can rack up out-of-control credit debt.

Supporting actor: Heath Ledger, The Dark Night Duh. He definitely stole the show in this one. Plus, there's that whole death thing... maybe not the best career move, but it definitely earns points with the Academy.

Actress: Kate Winslet, The Reader I missed this one, but I read that Kate Winslet said this picture is the last one in which she appears nude. End of an era?

Actor: Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler Daniel Day-Lewis could be on the screen speaking Arabic and I would rave. There's just something about that guy... or maybe it's the fact that he skipped out on becoming the biggest movie star ever and disappeared for years because he was learning how to be a shoe cobbler. Hey, people need shoes.

But Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler was almost to Daniel Day-Lewis levels. He was sublime and brutal much like DeNiro in Raging Bull. Just awesome and easily the best performance of the year. More importantly, Mr. Rourke could win and then make a speech that will put the dude with the dump-out button to work.

On another note, my wife says Sean Penn is far superior as Harvey Milk... yeah, probably. But c'mon, a 'roided up Mickey Rourke rasslin'... She also says Meryl Streep gave easily the best performance of anyone this year, but that's a given. She's like the Harlem Globetrotters to everyone's Washington Generals.

Director: The guy who made Slumdog Millionaire Missed this one. It was showing the day I took the kids to see WALL-E, or Bolt, or Kung-fu Panda or something like that.

Best picture: Slumdog Millionaire Whatever. I'm not going to pay money to watch kids get hurt and people suffer. I already know life is difficult and I don't need to get "perspective" from a movie. I can read the news or look at pictures of Dick Cheney if I want to know the world can be a horrible place.

Speaking of the Academy Awards, inevitably the hosts and presenters will always tell us, the viewer, how many people are watching worldwide? How do they know? And if they know how many people are watching the Academy Awards worldwide, don't they also know how many people turned on the TV and fell asleep? Or how many people turned it on but left the room to take a phone call or something?

I really don't think they know what they're talking about.

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[1] This is incredibly baffling. Tell a hockey fan you really aren't hip to their sport and get ready for the dissertation, and, worse, an invitation to a game. Seriously, these people (yes, I wrote these people) just don't understand why everyone doesn't see what they see. Yet, they still have that, "Why can't we just be different like everyone else," attitude.

Yes, I generalize because I can.

Here's the thing. I'm a huge fan of track and field, long-distance running and professional bicycling. I just love it. It's a tough, grueling sport that just gets me all wound up just anticipating a big race or meet. But here's the thing... I don't want the mass populace to get it because that way I don't have to share my passion for some dumbed-down mass audience. So please, folks, let me have my geeky endurance sports with all my dork friends. Here's an idea: go watch some hockey. They really seem to want you to.

Who turned on the heat?

For the first time in recent memory, my suitcase and I showed up at the same place at the same time. Let's hope that's a sign of good things to come here in the land of comfortable footwear and early-bird specials[1]. Anyway, I'm sleepy and need some rest before waking up early to find coffee and a suitable trail to carve out 15-to-20[2], so I'm not going to wax on about the latest developments regarding the Phillies and the pitching staff. I'm also not going to delve into the fact that Daniel Day-Lewis' most recent Academy Award is probably the best actor since Brando, nor the fact that the Coen Bros. have achieved a body of work that puts them in the same pantheon as Bergman, Fellini and Hitchcock - or at least the level just below that.

Speaking of the Academy Awards, why do the hosts and presenters always tell us, the viewer, how many people are watching worldwide? How do they know? And if they know how many people are watching the Academy Awards worldwide, don't they also know how many people turned on the TV and fell asleep, or how many people turned it on but left the room to take a phone call or something?

I really don't think they know what they're talking about.

OK. Jim Cramer is shouting at me from the television, my head hurts and it's time to unwind. I need my rest if I'm going to sport those comfortable shoes and find the best tofu special at 4 p.m.

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[1] These are two really good things.[2] Miles not minutes.

You're all winners!

This is going to be the last baseball-related post for the next few days. Next week this space will hold nothing but the scene and the scenesters from Clearwater so it's good to diversify. You know... goof on other goofiness for a while. In the meantime, I'm going to go see There Will Be Blood [1] before my wife's annual Academy Awards extravaganza at the house on Sunday night. From what I'm told this year's menu will include a new red lentil soup recipe as well as baked brie with raspberries and almonds[2].

Once again my suggestion to serve a six-foot hoagie with a pony keg was ignored.

Anyway, this effort is hardly going to be an effort at all. In fact, it's essentially going to be recycled from last February when the Phillies announced their Wall of Fame ballot. This year the club added Doug Glanville, Greg Gross, Jim Fregosi and Lancaster Countian Gene Garber to the ballot, though it seems unlikely that anyone from that group will gain election for enshrinement, in which the criterion is:

Phillies players with five or more years of service are eligible. Managers and coaches need four or more years of service.

In addition to a player's statistical record, consideration is given to longevity, ability, contributions to the Phillies and baseball, character and special achievements.

This year the 15 players on the ballot are:

Pitchers: Larry Christenson, Jim Konstanty, Gene Garber, Rick Wise Catcher: Darren Daulton Infielders: John Kruk, Fred Luderus, Juan Samuel Outfielders: Lenny Dykstra, Von Hayes, Greg Gross, Doug Glanville Manager: Gene Mauch, Jim Fregosi Coaches: Mike Ryan

Out of the 15 eligible, I cast my three vote(s) for Jim Konstanty, Darren Daulton and Gene Mauch.

Konstanty gets the vote simply for the 1950 season. During that year, as a relief pitcher, Konstanty appeared in a then Major League-record 74 games and was National League's MVP. When the Phillies got to their first World Series since 1915, Konstanty took the ball and started Game 1for his first start in approximately four seasons.

Ultimately Konstanty only won 51 games and saved 54 in 6½ seasons for the Phillies, but he was one of the pioneers in the game as a true relief specialist, yet was also versatile and strong enough to pile up more than a 100 innings.

Don't tell me the Phillies wouldn't like to have a relief pitcher to toss 70 or so innings this season.

I don't think I have to get too into why Daulton should be enshrined. Simply, he may have been one of the most important players - for his time - the franchise ever had. Importance of a player, of course, belies simple things such as numbers on a stat page and in that regard Daulton is both simple and complex. He led the league in both RBIs and knee operations... then moved to the outfield after two decades of squatting.

Better yet, he was the straw that stirred the drink in '93. Go ahead... ask anybody.

Mauch, on the other hand, was regarded as one of the best baseball minds as well as the most star-crossed. He has managed more seasons without reaching the World Series than anyone else. Worse, Mauch had come so excruciatingly close to getting there so many times only to fall through a trap door.

There was 1964, which people around here remember, but then in 1982 he guided the California Angels to 2-0 lead in the best of five series only to drop the final three games to the Milwaukee Brewers. That was the first time that had ever happened.

In 1986, Mauch's Angels were one pitch away from beating the Boston Red Sox in five games of the best-of-seven ALCS before Donnie Moore served up the famous home run to Dave Henderson. The Red Sox went on to win Game 5 and then games 6 and 7 to further extend Mauch's curse.

Yet for the Phillies, Mauch turned a laughingstock into a contender by winning 646 games in a little more than eight seasons. From 1962 to 1967, Mauch's Phillies finished .500 or better in every season, which was a rarity for the franchise.

There it is... go vote online at the Phillies' web site.

In the meantime, here are my Oscar picks [3]based on no knowledge whatsoever:

Supporting actress: Cate Blanchett, I'M NOT THERE Supporting actor: Javier Bardem, NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN Actress: Ellen Page, JUNO Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis, THERE WILL BE BLOOD Director: The Coen Bros., NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN Best picture: There Will Be Blood

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[1] Again. [2] Yeah, we're doing alright. [3] Yes, I know there is no way to judge art or acting unless all of the actors play the same part. I also know that the Academy Awards are inherently a big pile of BS.

Get to work

Believe it or not, there are some folks that come to this little site to read about the running stuff. In fact, these people could care less about the Phillies, Eagles or any type of the mainstream spectator sports where one of the goals is to actually feel one's ass grow. Instead, they are much more interested in participating in sports. Come on, who can sit inside and watch a game on TV when 5x1 mile in 5:10 is on the schedule? Anyway, there are names for these people. Lots of them, I suppose, based on some rudimentary lip reading of the lemmings hurtling around in the cars clogging up the roads. "Dork" seems to be one of the few that can be published here, but to me there is a different name.

I call them warriors and they are my people.

Actually, I don't call them warriors. I just made that up to be dramatic because I couldn't think up anything better. Truth be told, whenever I'm inside or driving around in a car I always stare like at the runners that cross my path like a guy who just left an Eagles' game and headed to the "gentleman's club" to take in the late afternoon matinee. But rather than some sort of deviant intent, I watch because I'm jealous that there are people out running around while I'm not. It's enough to make me crazy and go out and do something rash. But since I'm conserving energy for the second run of the day later in the afternoon, I just stare and roil with envy.

Like a dork.

Of course there are subsets to this dorkdom, just like there are in anything else. Perhaps it is like the sects of Eagles' fans where some like to get dressed up in a jersey and/or uniform and paint their faces as if they were Daniel Day-Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans, while others just go to the game and cheer or boo accordingly.

In running there are differences, too. There are runners who simply run and runners who train. There is no in-between because as the old saying goes, "You are either training or you are not." Still, defining the difference between the two sets isn't as easy as all that. Sometimes one is training and doesn't know it and other times a person is training so poorly they might as well just be running.

Or something like that.

Anyway, I think I'm training. After two months of running simply to put together some semblance of fitness, it's time to dive in. The focus, of course, is another marathon, which at this point is a lot like banging my head against a wall. Yet for some reason there is a thought that there is a chance that something elusive is there for the grabbing. Still, running is easy and training is hard. Oh sure, it's fun and all of that, but it's fun in the way that building an addition to your house is fun or drinking so much coffee that you can see the hair growing on your face.

Yes, it's all fun but certainly not for everyone. Actually, I wouldn't recommend any of it.

But we're going back into the breach again, my friends. So far we're three days and 45 miles into it and all of the old obsessions are on the way back. Make it obsessions about obsessions. Suddenly everything matters - sleep, food, weight, miles, the weather, pace, more miles as well as the glancing thought that my calves will spasm chronically for the next five months (at least) and if it's possible if those perpetually black toes can get blacker.

And for what? A little self masochism? Self medication? The idea that 2:30s means something?

Well... yeah.

One of my lines about all of this is, "I'm not doing it for my health." I don't buy all that new agey stuff about feeling free or a oneness with nature or any other such thing. Like the sleek, vigilant puma, most runners who train are hostile and aggressive. They would like nothing better than to slash your throat to a bloody, messy slab of spongy flesh. But since most runners go to one extreme or another and a much too small to for the local Fight Club, the puma metaphor is all they have.

Besides, it's healthy than face painting.

*** So there it is. After talking to my management team (OK, just my wife), it looks like the plan is to hit the Pocono Mountain Marathon on May 4 and the Richmond (Va.) Marathon on Nov. 15. All systems are go - no one is pregnant, the kids are settled, schedules are set and playoff baseball won't interfere... that is if there is playoff baseball.

All that's left is the work.