On the subject of Trillian

The Hitchhiker's movie comes out on Friday night, and shockingly, I won't be there; I'll be at, god help me, the Sixers. Oh well, I said I'd support them and I will. Let's do it! I'll hopefully catch a Saturday afternoon showing of the movie before I return to the Sports Complex on Saturday night for, yes, yet another stupid Base-Ball match.

This is, by definition, a sports-centric blog, and though I occasionally talk about myself and my other non-blog writing, and even mention music I like once in a while, I never talk much about my other interests. So unless you know me pretty well you're probably not aware that I probably wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for Douglas Adams. Oh, I'd be somewhere, of course, but I have no idea where, or what I'd be doing or what I'd be like.

News flash: the Phils just won a few seconds ago, 3-0. The comeback is on, baby!

Anyway. Enough of that silliness. DNA and the Pythons had more of an influence on me than anything else on the planet. Judging from this blog, you'd probably guess that 80's Jeremy sat around poring over Phillies box scores, idolizing Mike Schmidt, agonizing over Shane Rawley's ERA, debating the relative merits of Charlie Hudson and Randy Lerch. Not so. Although I collected baseball cards back then, they were purely academic; I didn't really get into following sports until about 1992. The truth is that I spent the bulk of 1987-1992 watching every episode of Python, Red Dwarf, and Blackadder over and over and over again, reading the Hitchhiker's books, and listening to the Hitchhiker's radio show.

I haven't watched Python as much in recent years, and one thing about the new movie that shames me deeply is the realization that I haven't read Hitchhiker's in ages. (I've read them all at least twice except Mostly Harmless, which I've read but once, though I will say that probably no other book, literally ever, by anyone, has ever affected me as emotionally.) But vestigal remnants of my early passions remain: I can still quote lengthy stretches of Python episodes; I still know, or at least claim to know, the entire first two seasons of Red Dwarf by heart; I feel a momentary aching thrill whenever I meet a female human who professes to like funny British things; and, my pretentious English Lit education be damned, I still proudly name Douglas Adams as my favorite writer.

The thing about Hitchhiker's, as any fan knows, is that there's a million different versions that all contradict each other: the radio show (the original), the books (my favorite), the albums, the TV show, the comic books (never actually read them, to be honest), and on and on. So one thing that is keeping me from being terrified about the movie is the knowledge that it is hardly a "definitive" version. It could suck deeply and horribly, and I'll be disappointed, but it won't sully the good name of the previous versions or their brilliant creator. So I'm not nervous about that (the way I'm faintly nervous about Sith*).

The big draw for me is Zooey Deschanel. I've been really psyched about the movie ever since I heard she had been cast as Trillian. And not just because she's unbelievably cute, either. Mostly because - and this is very important, and not a joke - she is literally, completely, precisely identical to how I always envisioned Trillian to look. Bear in mind that when I read the books I was a lonely 12 year old boy, and it just sort of made inherent sense to me that Trillian would be a really hot dark-haired British girl. (ZD is not actually British, they tell me, but I assume they've made her a reasonable facsimile.)

Much has been made (by Matt, mostly) about the fact that there is an Arthur/Trillian romance subplot in the movie. I'm not as bothered by this as most people, and in fact I'm not really all that surprised. Mainly, it's an American film, so they've necessarily had to Americanize certain aspects. But to be honest, I think I always sensed the subtext of it in the books. Obviously, I read it in there because I wanted to; I wanted to be Arthur, plucked from my dull life and thrust into a time-traveling space adventure, complete with hot dark-haired British chicks. (Still do, frankly.) And so I always used to read it underneath every scene: I always sensed in Arthur a sort of jealously/resentment of Zaphod, and I always liked the party scene in the third book where Arthur tries to save Trillian from a huge dude that's hitting on her. (She doesn't seem to want to be saved, of course, but I always kind of ignored that.) [Meanwhile, my first serious attempt at a novel, over a decade ago and stretching well into 2001, was about an ordinary Earthling thrust into a time-traveling space adventure, complete with a very beautiful and unattainable dark-haired woman. Ahem. It was quite unapologetic in its Adams-esque-ness, so if it ever sees the light of day in the future, great steaming gobs of editing will have to take place.] Anyway. Okay, maybe it's a bit of a stretch. I remember telling my friend Brianna a few weeks ago, "They've played up the Arthur/Trillian romance angle." "What do you mean, played up," she replied, "it's not in there at all!" So maybe I'm the only one to ever have seen it in there. I think my point is, I'm not bothered by the subplot's overt presence in the movie version; the movie will be good, because Martin Freeman is in it, and Marvin looks cool, and Zooey D. is a honey, and the very great and very missed Douglas Adams, who I love dearly, and who is my hero, a bigger hero to me than any Phillie, wrote it. What more do you need?

*Sith will be fine, don't worry about it.

Like a piece of art that no one can touch

You know, I'm getting the feeling the Sixers aren't going to win this series.

Yeah. Unless Prince, Hamilton, and the Wallaces all suddenly tear their ACLs right after the opening tip on Friday, I think they're going to take it. I'm willing to go out on that particular limb. I've always believed in the old adage that there's no shame in losing to a better team, and I'm going to have to keep believing that, because my goodness, are the Pistons the better team here. They shoot, they defend, and they make very few mistakes. They're making the Sixers look silly. It's getting a little painful to watch, but I will stand by my boys until the bitter end. And because, right now, I can't even see the Sixers stealing a game in Philly, that's probably going to be Sunday afternoon. Sigh...

Meanwhile, when I could have been writing my super awesome novel, I also spent the evening watching the Phils not-with-a-bang-but-a-whimper their way to a 3-1 loss to the Nats. Cripes, I found myself thinking, they just flat out can't hit. They can't hit! They just flat out can't hit! What is it? I mean seriously, what is the freaking problem? This is a bunch of guys who have all proven themselves to be good hitters in the past, either on the Phils, in the minors or on other teams. But put them together in red uniforms in South Philly, and suddenly they can't hit. They don't drive in runners. They don't hit home runs. They don't mount rallies. They just fold and die. What is it? But then Andrew surprised me by pointing out that it can't last: Thome and Bell are in slumps which they will surely break out of, Burrell wasn't playing, etc. etc. And he's right, I think. I hate the way the Phils keep having these slow Aprils, but hey, they'll probably put together a solid May and June, like they always do. Yes, I think so. (Andrew and I keep playing this good cop/bad cop game with the Phils, alternating the roles. We rarely feel the same way about them simultaneously. Strange, that.)

Yes, it's the sewage farm attendants

Phils slumping as usual but they'll be fine, don't worry about them. On Sunday, they celebrated my birthday by getting swept by the Braves, who feature Chipper "Larry" Jones, who has the same birthday! Him and current Cav, forever Sixer, E. Snow. And Babs Streisand. You know it. Happy Birthday one and all.

I'm 29 now. I don't feel 29. Should 29 feel like something?

So the Sixers took the Pistons by surprise and won the first quarter on Saturday by 12 points. After which the Pistons woke up, remembered they were the superior team, and crushed us back into oblivion. Ah well. Still a few games to go, even if it'll take a miracle. Bring it on! I've always considered this a rebuilding year anyway; making the playoffs is just delicious icing. If they manage to steal a game I'll consider the season a rousing success. I'll be in attendance Friday night... I feel good about it.

Oh and happy Passover!

Allen Iverson's Hip Hop B-Ball Seder

Hi ho, Blogfans! I'm back. I was in the OC for a week on business; no sign of Mischa Barton. Caught a game at Angels Stadium, my baseball home away from home. They threw their surprisingly rowdy fans under the proverbial bus by lying to the rest of the country about where they play ("WE ARE THE ANAHEIM ANGELS" declared the marquee of a nearby gentleman's club) but they're still a cool team and I like them. They gave me a Vlad statue. I also stood/sat in the Pubs booth and gave out journals. It's so much better on holiday...

The Phils went 4-3 in my absence. Bah. They're going to be fine, don't worry about them.

Why is Saturday night unlike all other nights? Well, on most nights, we don't dip even once, but this Saturday we dip twice. Also, the Sixers are in the playoffs. They clinched same on Monday night, and face Doc Brown's Pistons. Scary stuff, but for once, the boys picked the exactly correct time to peak, and are playing their best ball of the season. "LET'S DO IT" declares Kyle's glowering mug on the website. I make no predictions, because I'm too much of a homer to pick Detroit and too sensible to pick the Sixers. It'll be good, though. Six or seven games, either way. As usual, AI is willing them to win, and we should all trust him. His beat is correct.

Dear Gavin Floyd: please last more than six innings, if possible.

All right wait a minute, hold everything, let's backtrack: on Monday I attended the home opener which was a fun time in beautiful weather; it was a genuine pleasure to skip out of work and get back to the House of Lies for a few hours. My initial reaction was "they can hit, but I don't know about that bullpen". This was a minor complaint tempered by the fact that they had won the game and the knowledge that surely Cormier and Madson, pitching in Game One in the slight chill, would get it together. Worrell and Wagner had been fine so there was no reason to suspect that my comment would become eerily and painfully prescient.

Three games, three losses, three blown leads by the bullpen later, I'm left wondering exactly what Manuel does know: his whole shtick is that he doesn't get angry like Bowa did, so it's not like, after four games, he can blow his stack and start yelling and throwing bats at people like the manager in Bull Durham. I've always been annoyed by the Phillies' Zen-like calm in the face of clear defects in their team but this year I choose to admire it and let it fascinate me. Even Frank Fitzpatrick, the easily provoked, constantly irritable, annoyingly cantankerous, painfully unfunny sports columnist for the Inquirer who never has anything complimentary to say about absolutely anything, reminded us yesterday that it's only been three games. That was before the crushing loss to the Cardinals, but his point is still well taken. If I let this stuff bother me now, I will be a living train wreck by mid-June, and I ain't going down that road again.

Funniest moment of the home opener was when the Phanatic came out in a giant ATV, driven by some Phillies interns and equipped with a hot dog gun on a turret. The gun was broken or something and could only fire hot dogs about four feet. They had to actually drive up to the very edge of the stands and even then they were getting no distance on that thing, and were booed. It was hilarious. I imagined the Phanatic bringing the vehicle into a shop and a mechanic poking around the gun: "Are you sure you haven't been firing t-shirts out of this thing? 'Cause it's only for hot dogs, you know." Maybe only I find this funny, never mind.

Root with all your might for the Sixers to grab the #7 spot instead of #8... we probably can't beat Detroit either, but we'd stand a better chance against them then we will against that Death Star. Did I say Death Star? I meant Miami.

PART TWO: OUR PHILLIES

Every April, twenty-five random men I’ve never met gather together to dictate how sane and happy I will be for the rest of the year. Let’s meet this year’s crop, shall you?

I now own a Jim Thome t-shirt, which I hope will not bring him bad luck, as my Millwood t-shirt may have done last year. (Yes, that was a mistake. Shut up.) Fortunately, I have trained myself not to believe in that superstitious nonsense anymore, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Thome is an great guy that I have adored since he was with Cleveland. It’s taken 2+ years for me to really realize how awesome it is that we have him and how unfortunate it is that he’s been surrounded by rampant mediocrity. I’m hoping for a big, monster, MVP-level season from him but I’d settle for his usual everyday excellence. Chase Utley mans second base, which was my position when I played softball very briefly that one summer, plus his first major league hit was a grand slam on my 26th birthday, so he and I are therefore kindred spirits. Seriously though I’m excited about that kid; I love how he hit a home run off Smoltz last year and Smoltz got all huffy about it, talking about how he had no idea how Utley could have hit it and claiming that he could throw the same pitch a million times and Utley would never hit it again. Sorry, Smoltz, that’s Chase; suck it up. Jimmy Rollins guns for a free agent payoff after next year. Here’s hoping the fans are kind to him this year and he decides to stay forever. David Bell, the Cyclist himself, rounds out the infield and should improve, unless his back gives out in some ridiculous freak accident. He’s one of those “God, I hope they know what they’re doing” players, just like Kenny Lofton, who’s like 54; I might even have one of his baseball cards, and I haven’t bought any cards since 1994. I don’t know, maybe it’ll pay off. Bobby Abreu is the man and should be a star, and further proof that Eskin sucks. Pat Burrell… Pat, dude. What is your deal? So much has been written on the subject of Pat Burrell in every vaguely baseball-related publication that I’m out of ideas. I think he’ll finally hit this year. Mike Lieberthal should be nice and safe and harmless tucked away in the #8 slot. I’ve always liked that guy.

I love how Todd Pratt is on the team, reminding us all of the ’93 team (although Curt should really be serving that function, wouldn’t you say?). Jose Offerman is like 72. I have no idea what he’s doing here. Did he wander in off the streets of Clearwater? Still, in the only televised Spring Training game I bothered to watch this year, he got lots of solid singles, and maybe that’s all we really need from him. Tomas Perez is a good guy, always solid, and will do anything you ask of him, though I find it kind of sad that the 2004 season was so lame that Tomas’ propensity to throw pies at people was actually given its own lengthy segment in the video yearbook. Pathetic, really. Placido Polanco is here, apparently, due to incompetence or stupidity or something, no one knows. Gotta love bench players making $5 million. Jason Michaels just gets better and better; I wonder how long before they realize he’d be more effective in center than K-Loft. Knowing the way these people operate, I’m guessing never.

We’re going to be fine with Jon Lieber; a Yankee fan told me. Brett Myers frightens me because he’s so insane but maybe he’ll actually put it together this year. Cory Lidle had a wretched spring and as far as I’m concerned should be dumped when Padilla returns, not Gavin Floyd, who is clearly ready for the bigs and I’m predicting a big season from him. I really love Randy Wolf and I hope he gets it together because he really should be slightly better than he’s been.

As I’ve been writing this I’ve been referring to the roster page at phillies.com and I was somewhat surprised to note that Rheal Cormier is back. How about that? Ryan Madson rules. How about him instead of Lidle, even? Tim Worrell . . . Tim Worrell. I don’t know, you tell me. Every year, every baseball team breaks camp with one or two relief pitchers that weren’t there last year and you’ve never heard of them and they’re either good or they aren’t but for the most part you never really remember they’re on the team, and this year it’s Aaron Fultz and Pedro Liriano for the Phils. Terry Adams is back with the Phils this year, a fact that will probably consistently surprise me throughout the year. In mid-August they’ll put Adams in a game and I’ll say, “Oh yeah, Terry Adams is on the team. Good for him.” I predict a full season from Billy Wagner and it’s going to be better than you think.

Waiting in the wings are Ryan Howard and Marlon Byrd. My fondest hope is that Ed Wade has learned the error of his loser ways from past seasons and that Howard, Byrd, and Polanco will be trade bait in mid-season, when FOR THE LOVE OF GOD they should make some REAL moves to improve themselves. Which I believe they will. So all the Phils need to do, really, is either have a great season all the way through, or at least hang in there until the deadline, plug their holes, and make a run down the stretch. Either way, they should . . . oh, I’m tired of making predictions. I have no idea how this season is going to go and neither does anyone else. The very least I can say is that the Phils will do some things very wrong, other things very right; they will shock and amaze, they will provide us hours of joy and equal hours of disgust and horror. I will spend far too much time worrying about them, despite my best efforts; I will give up on them innumerable times and come running back to them every night; I will eat overpriced sausage sandwiches and drink weak beer, and cheer and hurl my cap across the room in frustration; and no matter what happens, I’ll be a little sad when it’s all over.

So here we go. What do you say, people? The season’s here! Let’s play some ball.

JEREMY’S 2005 BASEBALL PREVIEW, PART ONE: THOSE OTHER TEAMS

It’s here, it’s here, it’s finally here! It’s April, and you know what that means: all the Revenge of the Sith toys came out today! And while you’re celebrating that, take a moment to remember that baseball season begins in just about 48 hours.

What can we expect this year? What does 2005 have in store? Oh, more of the same nonsense, I’m sure. Teams that are supposed to be good will be good, except the ones that disappoint; teams that are supposed to be bad will be bad, except the ones that overachieve. Guys will hit home runs, or get hurt, or both, or neither. The Phillies will torment us much of the time, thrill us the rest of the time. The Braves will continue to sicken and alarm us; the Yankees will be on national TV most hours of the day. One extremely weird thing will happen, but I don’t know what. Aspiring novelists will continue to procrastinate. All in all, a typical baseball season, except for October when the Phillies win the World Series in a thrilling Game 7, tickets for which will be hand-delivered to my door by Zooey Deschanel. I’m looking forward to it.

As usual, much of the season will be devoted to the 75 nationally televised games between the Yankees and Red Sox. The league and media will brow-beat us into believing that they are actually the only teams in the league, except for a nebulous, unnamed third team of indeterminate uniform that has to play them sometimes in largely unimportant games. If you claim to be a fan of one of the other 28 teams, Bud Selig will personally whip you. It’ll be like living in a gulag. Every single second of New York and Boston’s insufferable bickering will be broadcast directly into our homes on HDTV by a shrieking Tim McCarver. Can’t they see that they love each other? Oh, god, I’m so sick of it. The Orioles and Blue Jays have the thankless task of sharing a division with those lunatics. The Orioles are a cool team with great fans who play in a gorgeous stadium I’m looking forward to visiting in May. I feel sorry for them. I’d feel sorry for the Jays, but I don’t. Twelve years ago they crushed my soul into a fine powder which they still wear around their necks in a little vial, as a constant reminder of their ceaseless mission on this planet: DESTROY JEREMY. The Devil Rays bring up the rear, trying not to get killed. Will they ever be good? That’s one of the league’s great forgotten subplots.

ESPN is big on the Twins. They’re all over the Twins and some say they’re your 2005 champion. In lieu of the Phils, I’d like that. Great team, great fans: go Twins! The Indians are getting better, which frightens me; I feel like maybe Jim Thome is starting to regret leaving. (Relax, Jim, we’re getting there.) I really dig the Tigers. They were so wretched in 2003 and now they’re kinda good. Wouldn’t you love to live in a universe where the Tigers are really good? I don’t know, that just seems sort of interesting to me. The White Sox are mysterious. I suspect that they’ll be pretty good, but they have the most awful and unfair lot in life: they live in the shadow of a team that’s generally terrible and disappointing. The Royals deserve better, too; I kind of root for them as well. The whole AL Central is a cool division and deserves our respect.

I used to really like the Angels but now I don’t. They do not play in Los Angeles. They play in Anaheim, which is not Los Angeles but is in fact a different city. I don’t know what kind of Orwellian doublespeak the Angels are trying to palm off on us, but do not be fooled: they play in Anaheim, and if I were, say, the Dodgers, I’d be completely irritated that another team – a better team, mind you, that has won a World Series more recently – is trying to hone in on my L.A. action. Why do the Angels feel the need to alienate their entire fanbase? Leave that to the Phils, Angels, and get back to being frighteningly legitimate contenders. The A’s are weird. They’ll probably lose in the first round or something; they always have that vibe. The Mariners took 2004 off but they’re back and should be interesting. (I’m sorry, I just don’t have much to say about some of these teams. Who the hell are the A’s and Mariners? I don’t know, and neither do you.) The Rangers are the only team the Phillies have never faced (that problem will be rectified this year) and as such I’ve never been entirely convinced that they exist. We’ll see in June, won’t we?

Over in the Correct League, the Cardinals will be looking to bounce back from getting crushed in the Series, which was the sweetest, most pleasant and satisfying experience I’ve had in some time. If you love life, if you despise hate, if you work hard, every day, fighting for the forces of good and light and beauty and reason, then you, like me, will be rooting against the Cardinals, because they are devil spawn; they are Pure Evil, like that crusty black stuff at the end of Time Bandits. The Cubs are a bunch of little bastards and their fans are hideous crybabies. Nah, I’m kidding, the Cubs are fine. They’ll probably beat us up. The Astros . . . I just sort of don’t like the Astros. That’s all I’ve got for the Astros. The Pirates are a likeable collection of dudes in a beautiful stadium but they’re not going anywhere. Same deal with the Brewers, but they should really go back to their 80’s logo because that thing ruled. There’s someone else in that division . . . I’m blanking . . . oh right, the Reds. Every year there’s some team that surprises everyone by playing better than they should and I’ve got this hunch about the Reds. I think it’s gonna be the Reds. Watch out.

Absolutely nobody in the world has anything useful or interesting to say, whatsoever, about the Rockies, and neither do I. They are a baseball team that plays in Denver, Colorado. They will probably win some games, losing the others. Beyond that you’re going to have to check out their website because that’s all I’ve got. The Dodgers always just sort of bug me; I can’t put my finger on it. They’ll probably beat us too, the jerks. I like the Padres; their stadium is absolutely awesome, and sells fish tacos to boot. That’s worth 85-90 wins right there. The Diamondbacks will unveil another couple of atrocious uniforms this year. I’ve never quite grasped the concept of the Diamondbacks; maybe it’s because I was already 22, and a deeply entrenched baseball fan, by the time they joined the league. I’ve never really accepted them as a real team. They seem like guests who should be leaving at any moment. Giants: Giants, Giants, Giants. Whatever will we do with you? Look, I don’t want to jump on the Barry-bashing bandwagon (which would prove him correct, I suppose) but really, does he have to be such a colossal dick? He gets up in front of the media and starts railing about how they’ve always tried to destroy him, and then sighs like a martyr and goes “Well, you finally did it; you pushed me over the cliff, onto the train tracks where the train runs me over and vultures chew on my mangled remains, you media bastards. Kiss my ass!” He didn’t say that at all. Nah, I don’t like Barry Bonds. You?

Remember two paragraphs ago when I said the Cardinals were Pure Evil? I stand by that. Now take that and multiply it by infinity: the BRAVES. I hate the Braves. I @$@& hate the #&@^# Atlanta @@%#^ Braves, and I always will. I want my hatred for the Braves to become understood as one of the basic, immutable truths of the universe, like “the sky is blue”. “Jeremy hates the Braves.” Know it, understand it, live by it; it is pure truth. My hatred for the Braves has actually lapped itself; I now no longer even think about it. Marlins: oh, it just kills me that the Phils lost something like 19 in a row to those guys. Man, that was embarrassing. The Marlins are still scary, especially that Josh Beckett; he terrifies me. He’s a great pitcher, he dates supermodels, he’s only 12. The Mets got Beltran, who the Phils really should have tried a little harder to get, but I guess they have their reasons. I’m not scared of the Mets, though; they’re old, have no bullpen, and they’re the Mets. The Nationals have been getting a lot of respect in the media, which is fine, but let’s calm down, people; they’re just the Expos in new uniforms. Expos!

And then there’s the Phillies, who we’ll discuss in tomorrow’s installment…