Dad, baseball nerd, gamer, kayfabe believer, SFSU grad (poli sci), brief reviewer of films/records/books/games, substitute teacher, and former line cook.
Kena: Bridge of Spirits was originally released in 2021, following an initial showcase at the Tribeca Film Festival earlier that year. The game is absolutely stunning graphically, plucked out of a Pixar film. Do not let the adorable characters and charming, lush locales lull you into thinking this game is for kids, though, as Kena poses a formidable challenge.
I first started in on this game around its release in September of 2021. I had an incredibly difficult time on my first play-through, consistently getting trounced by bosses and frustrated by cursed chests. Despite my struggles, I did not want to stop trying, as the boss battles are the type where you can feel yourself getting closer and closer each time. There are 16 boss battles in this game, most of them of the mini-boss variety, but if you’ve ever marathoned Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out, Cuphead, or any From Software game, you are familiar with the feeling of “almost got it” I am describing. I got obliterated so consistently by Toshi (the penultimate boss) that I came to believe I had missed some essential item earlier in the game and started over, determined not to make that mistake again.
Corrupt Toshi, the not-quite-final boss in Kena: Bridge of Spirits
Upon my restart, I had a much easier time. I can chalk that up partially to having been through it once before, and also to the fact that a patch released in December made the game way more generous with the EXP (called “karma”). The trade off for the game’s generosity is the appearance of more cursed chests, unlockables, and a few extra enemies. The game is far more balanced after this update. Turns out, I hadn’t missed an item, I just had to “get good”.
Let me be very clear: when I say I had an easier time, that is not at all to say that this game is easy. Kena is simple to learn but difficult to master, particularly the timing of parries. As you can imagine, parrying becomes an integral part of succeeding at Kena, but I don’t think I felt fully comfortable with my ability to do it until I was about 7/8 of the way through the game. Maybe I suck, but it seemed like the timing was impossibly late. After awhile, though, when I became familiar with all the different unlocked abilities and understood which skills worked best against which enemies (and the game will always give you a subtle clue), I felt like a fully badass Spirit Guide. Unleashing an arrow in slow motion and nailing a bullseye on an enemy’s weak spot or shooting a bomb out of the air is particularly gratifying. My biggest gripe is that the developers (Ember’s Lab) decided to absolutely nerf Kena before the final battle, which felt like a very cheap way to increase the difficulty of the final boss, who would have otherwise been far less challenging, given the time spent mastering the moves required to reach him.
I’ve seen complaints online (surprise!) that the story doesn’t flesh out Kena, herself, enough; that players felt very little connection with her. This was not an issue for me, I found Kena charming (thanks in no small part to her relationship with the Rots) and was genuinely moved by the ending. I actually gasped in amazement during the end scenes, an effect brought on by a combination of breath-taking graphics and a fantastic conclusion to the story.
Despite Kena’s difficulty, the game is short. You should be able to finish it in a weekend (provided you don’t unnecessarily punish yourself like I did, or have kids). There’s much to love here if you are a fan of the Zelda series (pre-Switch era), although I was disappointed that a vast majority of the rewards for exploration were purely cosmetic. I dove back into this game with a New Game + immediately upon finishing because I wanted more. I immediately began noticing pieces of foreshadowing I hadn’t noticed the first time through. This game is glorious.
7.5/10
Spirit Mail and Rot quests are fun, Cursed chests are positively loathsome.
Bosses are challenging and maybe a bit frustrating, but you won’t want to stop trying.
Graphics are absolutely beautiful. Not necessarily “realistic”, but a wonderful sight to behold.
I could not care less about Rot Hats.
Combat is very fun, but it takes actual practice to master.
Legitimately heart-wrenching story, especially when you realize what is actually going on in the forest.
I just had to go see this film, the absolute pro wrestling nerd inside of me required it. This one will be brief, but I have much to say.
Somehow, they took guys like Jeremy Allen White and Zac Efron and made them uglier than the actual Von Erichs. For reference, let me provide you this:
For those of you who don’t know which brother is which, let me help. The dude on the far right of both photos is Kerry Von Erich (portrayed Jeremy Allen White). The dude with the “Superior 47” jersey in the left photo is David Von Erich (portrayed by Harris Dickinson), who is standing front and center in the photo of the actual guys. Zac Efron (Kevin Von Erich) is the dude on the left in the original photo. The old bastard in the back is their father, Fritz Von Erich, who is embodied in the film by Holt McCallany, and is by far the closest rendition of any of their real-life counterparts.
Next, let’s talk about the other wrestler portrayals. Kevin Anton portrays Harley Race, and does a pretty admirable job. Harley wasn’t a bad talker, necessarily, but sometimes he seemed to zone out mid-sentence, and was pretty wooden. Anton nails it.
Then, we come to Aaron Dean Eisenberg’s performance as Ric Flair. I am quite certain that this actor has never watched a single, solitary second of any Ric Flair promo. It wasn’t even close. Eisenberg’s imitation was so awful that it pulled me out of the film. He seemed more like King Slender from the Nintendo Entertainment System video game. You might be saying, well, King Slender was based on Ric Flair, but King Slender is what happens when you can’t get the rights to Ric Flair’s actual likeness. The performance is so terrible that it almost feels like Eisenberg is lampooning Flair. How on Earth this got past director Sean Durkin is a mystery to me. Absolutely horrendous. Once again, I can only presume that neither Durkin nor Eisenberg have ever actually seen Ric Flair talk, but that makes me angry, because if you haven’t, you shouldn’t be making a film about pro wrestling.
Then again, this film isn’t necessarily about pro wrestling. It’s a film about a band of literal brothers who happen to be pro wrestlers, who have tragedy visited upon them. The story is told through the eyes of Kevin Von Erich, the “oldest” Von Erich brother (quotations needed, but no spoilers here). The story was familiar to me, so I have some bones to pick with the order of the story and the omission of one Von Erich brother entirely. I think maybe Durkin inadvertently did Chris Von Erich a favor by leaving him out (or more accurately, combining him with Mike), because the story was made to seem like it all took place within 3 weeks. Kevin’s baby remains an infant throughout the film (save for the very end), and Kerry’s motorcycle accidentIf is impossibly misrepresented. Not only is the timeline wrong, but his massive traumatic wound heals before the scraps and cuts on his body. The film also neglects to mention that Kerry’s injury was hidden from the public by Fritz. Lance Von Erich is pictured ( played by MJF, of all people), but is never mentioned or explained.
I cannot recommend this film to anyone who isn’t already familiar with the story of the Von Erichs, because you will not see so many of the important parts of the story that really made Kevin an absolutely gut-wrenching sympathetic figure. If you are already familiar, this film might make you roll your eyes, or physically angry.
If you are curious about the Von Erichs and WCCW, I cannot recommend highly enough the Federation-produced Triumph & Tragedy of World Class Championship Wrestling. Peep that out on Peacock right now, watch The Iron Clawafterwards.
For the sake of integrity, and attributing quotes correctly and contextually, I present this to you as a narrative in the style of books like I Want My MTV and Those Guys Have All the Fun.
The players:
Barry Krippene
Matt Daggett
James Malone (that’s me!)
This conversation picks up in a thread as part of an ongoing, interminable, argue-until-one-of-us-dies conversation about sports. The topic is regularly the NFL (particularly if the 49ers or Packers are playing), occasionally MLB (usually to lament Dave Roberts or the overall futility of the Oakland A’s), but most often, and most passionately, the NBA is the the focal point. The speakers herein are, in the order listed above, a Sacramento Kings fan, a Portland Trail Blazers fan, and a Boston Celtics fan. The most unbiased, fair-minded Boston Celtics fan to ever rationally discuss James Naismith’s creation, I should add.
To this point, the conversation had been progressing a few days regarding Larry Bird’s standing in the pantheon of NBA legends. Specifically, could he stack up to that other small forward who almost a decade ago (!!) took his talents to South Beach. The thread, after laying dormant for 12 hours or 2 days, was reignited by this incredibly ice-cold take, courtesy of Nick Wright:
Matt Daggett: Nick Wright is the biggest LeBron lover on the planet. He’s just a tad biased. You guys will not like his opinions of King James.
James Malone: I’m not saying I agree with him, but is an interesting take. I mean, calling Jordan a complete loser is dumb, especially given James’ Finals record. I do very much agree with his point about NBA teams in the East during Jordan’s run. Bird owned Jordan. Jordan knew it, too.
Author’s note: Michael Jordan was 11-17 versus Larry Bird in his career. Not exactly “ownage”, to be sure, but as I said, one of will have to die.
Barry Krippene: Are we pretending that the guy almost everybody considers the GOAT was just… lucky? Because I watched him play and I know you did, too, and I’m pretty sure that what he (Nick Wright) is calling luck is what most called “excellence”. Bird had an All-Star team around him. You’ve said it yourself. So did Magic.
JM: Jordan is the GOAT, no doubt about that. Bird still owned him. Jordan had fantastic timing. Magic got sick, Bird threw out his back, Len Bias and Reggie Lewis died, and Kevin McHale retired at like 28. That doesn’t diminish what Jordan did. The stars aligned.
BK: Bird and his Merry Band of All-Stars beat him.
JM: Correct. Because Bird owned Jordan. Look, Steph has owned LeBron, but that doesn’t mean that Steph is “better”.
Author’s Note: LeBron and Steph are currently 10-10 in head-to-head matchups. Doesn’t really seem that way, does it? I guess not all games are created equal, unless you are trying to apologize for LeBron James.
BK: That also doesn’t mean Steph “owns” LeBron either.
How correct you were, Barry.
JM:
This was sent, without comment, into the conversation.
BK: If you give Steph the Pistons, he isn’t owning anybody. Shoot, besides the Kings, Steph isn’t owning anybody this year.
Author’s note: I have to appreciate the backhanded slap directed at the loathsome Pistons.
MD: Bird was older than Jordan. That’s like saying that Jordan owned Kobe.
JM: Jordan did not own Kobe, and that is not the same. Jordan came into the league in 1984. Bird had been in the league for… 4 years? When Kobe came into the league, Jordan had been in the league for like 13 years. We have a tendency to forget that Jordan was 30 already when he won his first championship. And he was absolutely badass, dude. Unquestionably, the greatest. But… he couldn’t beat the Celtics. And yes, the 1986 Celtics should have beat the 23 year-old Jordan and the Bulls. And they did.
Kobe was 5-3 versus Jordan. Jordan was also on the Wizards.
MD: Jordan had nothing, though. You had arguably the greatest team of the decade.
BK: We’re not gonna convince him of the truth, Matt.
MD: We’re in agreement. Just don’t tell me Bird was better than Jordan.
JM: Bird is better than everyone not named Michael Jordan. And Bird owned Jordan.
MD: No. He. Is. Not. Bird is not even the greatest Celtic of all-time.
JM: I don’t understand why it matters if Bird was older, or if he “should have won”. Magic and the Lakers “should have” beat Jordan in 1991. But they didn’t. Because they didn’t have Larry Bird. I mean, it is a useless gesture, but I would bet my life that the 1986 Celtics would beat the 1996 Bulls.
So much must one of us die that I have now wagered my life.
MD: The ’91 Lakers were swept by the Bulls, who were insanely better than the Lakers by that time. They beat the Blazers, who straight up choked in the 1991 Western Conference Finals. That 90-91 team is the best Blazers team I’ve ever seen. We were a fuckin’ machine.
JM: All true. Those Blazers teams were fun, dude. I really wanted Drexler to get one, and not in Houston, that sucked.
MD: Can you tell I’m still pissed? Just couldn’t finish when it mattered. I was happy for Drexler at the time. Had no idea he would completely erase his Blazers existence from his mind. That was a bummer.
JM: Do you think Jordan woulda won 8 in a row if he had stayed in the league? Could they have beat the Rockets? We know they woulda beat the Knicks.
Never miss an opportunity to make fun of the Knicks.
MD: That’s. The. Question. Wish we would have seen it.
JM: Did Drexler leave angry?
MD: I would hope not. We traded him to Houston, as he’s from Houston. We didn’t get equal value at all. He’s like the ex-girlfriend that just pretends you didn’t have a thing. It hurts.
BK: Malone, are you mad that Larry only won 3, even though he had an All-Star cast around him and Jordan won 6 and took a two-year baseball vacation?
MD: Ooooh. Shots fired. Barry. And fuck this “only 3” shit. You and I would kill for one. God, the Blazers are awful. Blazers at Bucks tomorrow. That’s gonna be weird.
BK: Seriously, though, You kinda sound like me hating on John Elway. (even though Elway is not the Jordan of the NFL).
Barry now backhand slaps Elway. Well-played.
JM: I’m not hating on Michael Jordan. He’s undeniably the greatest of all time. You guys are hating on Larry Bird.
MD: Not at all. He’s top 10, unarguably. Maybe top 5. But #2 right behind MJ? That’s where tyou lose me.
BK: I get it. You’re trying to scooch Bird into the Jordan conversation.
JM: I’m sad that the Celtics had a string of misfortune, starting with Len Bias, but it also led to Pierce, KG, and Ray Allen, which in turn led to Nets draft picks, which led to Tatum and Brown.
BK: I don’t think Bird is Top 10.
MD: You also don’t think LeBron is Top 10.
BK: Not trying to hate, but I’ve seen as good or better NBA players.
MD: I would love to see your Top 5 Barry:
Jordan
Oscar Robertson
Mike Bibby
Peja
Doug Christie
BK: I don’t believe I’ve said that.
JM: Do those as good or better players have back-to-back MVPs and three championships?
BK: How many MVPs does Drew Brees have?
MD: Not sure. NFL MVP is not the same as NBA MVP, in my opinion. Oscar Robertson is the greatest King of all time, he just didn’t play in Sacramento. Also, looked it up. Zero. What’s your point exactly?
BK: He’s not an instant Hall of Famer? Way better than Elway was? Bird had an All-Star cast.
JM: Are you about to make the case that MVPs do not matter? I’ll hear it out. Still, that doesn’t change what happened on the court. Bird owned the league for at least 5 years. Jordan, Magic, Hakeem, they all fell.
MD:
Michael Jordan
LeBron James
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Bill Russell
Magic Johnson
Larry Bird
Hakeem Olajuwon
Wilt Chamberlain
I’d have to think about nine and ten for a bit as you’re getting into Curry and KD territory and their careers aren’t done yet. And not necessarily in that order. I’d have to think on that, as well. But I have LeBron behind Jordan.
JM: LeBron had an All-Star cast in Miami. So did Magic Johnson in L.A. So does Phoenix right now. So did Brooklyn last year. I’ll accept Bird at 6, but you’ve gotta put Magic at 7, at least, then.
BK: Did Jordan?
JM: Pippen, Rodman, Ron Harper, Toni Kukoc.
BK: No Shaq or Kobe, huh?
MD: I’d take Magic over Bird, personally, but it’s close. Not necessarily, on Shaq and Kobe. Like I said, I have to think about it. My problem is that Shaq was lazy and relied on his god-given talent. He didn’t put in work like those other guys. Although, you can make the same argument for Wilt, and I put him in there.
JM: Wilt would not be in my top 10.
MD: That’s a take I’ve heard. I have no time for someone not putting LeBron in their top 10. None.
BK: Y’all grab players you never saw play and claim they are better than anyone in the last 20 years. Even though you admit the competition is much better nowadays. Confusing.
JM: LeBron is 3rd. MJ and Bird were both better. They had their careers cut short. I don’t wanna penalize longevity, but… he is LeBron, so F*** him.
MD: “He is LeBron, so F*** him”. So, you’re biased.
JM: I’m biased towards reality.
BK: I think Kobe was better than Bird and Magic.
MD: Disagree there, Johnny Most.
JM: Dude, Kobe took like 50 shots a game. But I’d rather have a guy with Kobe’s mentality than LeFlop’s.
The petty is starting to emerge, if it wasn’t there already. Kobe only averaged 19.5 shots per game. Other than that, though, I see no pettiness.
BK: You’re biased towards your own teams, Malone! Kobe won 5 rings.
MD: I account for careers cut short. If that’s the case, put Walton in there. We rolled teams from March of ’77 to March of ’78. Might be the greatest 12-month stretch of NBA basketball ever. 5 rings is more than Bird. LeBron has won 4, also more than Bird.
JM: Of course I am biased towards my teams, I do not deny it. But, if championships equate to greatness, then Robert Horry is the second-best player ever behind Bill Russell. So, that sounds alright to me. Steve Kerr has more rings than Kobe Bryant. I am biased, but I have also said nothing untrue, regarding Larry Bird’s record or stats.
BK: Dude, Larry Bird is 23rd on this list. Seems like a lot of modern players are pretty competitive with all of the great ones, except one.
JM: Yeah, and obviously Neil Johnston is better than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
BK: Stats don’t lie. I mean, sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. Neil Johnston, being the only non-household name, is the only problem you have?
JM: PER takes fouls into consideration. It’s a wonder why guys like LeBron get to be high on this list while guys like Larry and Steph are regularly brutalized and get no calls. And yes, I do have other problems. Is Anthony Davis better than Tim Duncan? Stop it.
BK: Stats do lie, then? Either we use stats to sort this out or we’re basing it solely on opinion. Bird has the highest win percentage BUT his efficiency rating is 23rd. Seems like he had a lot more help than you’re willing to admit.
JM: Stats don’t lie, but those who manipulate them regularly do. All the time. PER is a good stat, but there are aspects (like foul calls) that players cannot control. James Harden is many things, but efficient? Does that pass the eye test for you? What would you rather have? The highest winning percentage or the highest efficiency rating?
One of us will die.
BK: I don’t know, man. At this point, it feels like we’re cherry picking some things and discouting others to reach whatever conclusion we want to fit our narrative.
JM: Bingo! Sports! Which leads me to this: Larry Bird is GOATED behind Michael Jordan.
BK: I just can’t imagine many players from the 1980s matching up against today’s greats except Jordan.
JM: That may be true, unless you factor in Larry Bird being given the same fitness regimen that Kevin Durant has.
BK: I don’t remember watching Larry Bird jog let alone run up and down the court back then.
JM: Dude, do not make me send you a 10 minute highlight reel.
BK: The players today are so, so much better than yesterday and Jordan is the only one, I think, who could ball in today’s game. Bird would be good, don’t get me wrong, but not great. Plus, and you’ve already admitted this one, the Celtics had a powerhouse team with our without him.
JM: He made them a powerhouse. Before Larry, they hadn’t been good since 1976. Barry, I cannot handle this Larry Bird heresy.
BK: I mean, I guess Larry and Macho Man were pretty okay, for their time….
Created with the blessing of Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell (so much blessing, in fact, that the pair signed on as executive producers), Evil Dead Rise does rise, indeed, to the standard set by its predecessors.
The first thing that struck me was how faithful director Lee Cronin was to the style established by Raimi in the original trilogy of films. The first-person view from something buzzing through the woods shows up right away, but is also turned immediately on its ear in a way that pleased this viewer. One particularly cool scene is viewed through an apartment door peephole, and is a perfect homage to Cheryl Williams (the girl in the basement from 1981). The fast-twitch, video game style is very present, although Cronin does not attempt humor nearly as much as Raimi.
Yeah, this movie is pretty dark. There are subtle shout-outs to Ashley Williams, the series’ original putzy hero,with a few one-liners spread throughout the film, but Beth (played by Lily Sullivan) is not some arrogant, accidental conqueror. Both protagonists are reluctant heroes, but Beth is a tragic and sympathetic figure, with a real-life problem far more complex than any the aspirational (in a horny, Schwarzenegger-esque way) Ash Williams faces prior to opening the Necronomicon.
Watching any film in the Evil Dead family should come with an expectation to see some very over-the-top, creative executions. This film delivers them, in absolute abundance. Buckets of them. In the initial press run for the film, director Cronin stated that his tombstone will now have to come with an engraving of a cheese grater. I’ll let that statement marinate with you.
Alyssa Sutherland continues the recent run of sinewy female leads in horror films (I was reminded of Toni Collette in Hereditary), and she fit right in with Cheryl Williams and Betsy Baker as the female Deadite of primary concern.
Apparently, there can never be an internet community without toxic members, and the Evil Dead franchise is not spared. There seems to be some minor backlash around the casting of Morgan Davies, as if any normal or decent person has any time to actually be bothered about things like that. I never would have even known Morgan Davies was a trans male unless the right-wing incel community pointed it out. Too much time on their hands. He does a great job in this film.
Not all 9’s out of 10 are created equal. If I give this film a 9, that doesn’t mean it is up there battling it out as film royalty with Pulp Fiction or Boogie Nights. It just means that as horror films go, this one hit the sweet spot for me. If Evil Dead and its successor are perfect 10s of horror, this one is nipping at their heels. Rise is right there with Dead Alive in the gore department. I will indulge in repeated views, and I especially cannot wait to show it to someone who hasn’t seen it before. Fantastic. Long live Evil Dead.
In the immortal words of Beavis and Butt-head: “well, that sucked, but at least it was short.”
I’m mad, frustrated, and embarrassed by the odious performance of the Los Angeles Dodgers. They straight up blew it, and it wasn’t even close. A narrative has developed around the Dodgers in recent years that they are choke artists, and I’ve always denied that label. Not all losing is choking: going to game 7 in 2017 against a… ahem… well-prepared Astros team was not choking. This 2023 display, though, that’s a choke. The Dodgers absolutely blew it. I’ve seen many Dodgers apologists lamenting the loss of 3 top notch starters (Buehler, May, and Gonsolin) to injury, the suspension of a fourth (dipshit extraordinaire Julio Urias), and the scheduling quirk of a week off between games, and while these things are all valid to varying degrees, they are still ultimately just excuses. Champions face “adversity”, and the Dodgers did not get it done. As Braves manager Brian Snitker pointed out after his own team’s similar ouster (and I hate that he’s right): “it didn’t seem to bother the Astros.”
I did the math after Game 3. The Dodgers’ starters earned run average for the series was a comically bad 28.54. Not a single Dodger fan actually believed that Lance Lynn (who led MLB in home runs surrendered, 48) was gonna get us to game 4. Even if Lynn had succeeded, could we really believe that Clayton Kershaw was finally going to assert postseason dominance? You’d have to be an idiot to believe that. Hope it, sure, but don’t be naive.
Speaking of Kershaw, his performance in this season’s annual October shenanigans has to tarnish his legacy. Yes, he is unquestionably one of the greatest regular season pitchers of all time. 210-92 with an record-setting 2.48 career ERA. He is 88 strikeouts away from 3000 in his career; he has been completely dominant. In the postseason, he is 13-13 with a 5.79 ERA. That’s on par with legends like Ken Schrom and Darren Dreifort. How can he actually ascend the Mt. Rushmore of great Dodgers pitchers with a postseason record like that? Who are we kicking off? Koufax? Hershiser? Valenzuela? Podres? Drysdale? I love Clayton Kershaw, and any conversation that he isn’t the greatest regular season pitcher of the last decade is just absurd or willfully hateful, but those postseason numbers are no fluke. Is there a stranger career than Kershaw’s at this point? A first ballot Hall of Famer who inspired absolute dread for his own fans in the postseason?
I don’t want to go too hard on K, though. As much as his Game One performance was a towel shot to the nuts, our boys Freddie Freeman and Mookie Betts went 1-21 combined in the series. These are two guys who have not shied away from the postseason spotlight; both are world champions already, and they flat out stunk. Betts is 3-32 in his last two postseasons combined. Freeman’s only hit was a hustle infield single. Thanks for hustling, dude, but that is small consolation. I will be haunted until spring by Freeman watching that 82 mph breaking ball go past him in Game 2.
ALCS: Texas Rangers v. Houston Astros
Personally, I cannot imagine a less likable showdown than these two squads from the Lone Star State. We all though it was sooo groovy that we were finally gonna have a postseason without the Yankees or Red Sox in it, and instead we get dueling former Giants managers. I’d long ago reached my zenith of toleration for Bruce Bochy’s Wild Card extravaganzas, but watching him do it with Corey Seager, Nate Eovaldi, Josh Sborz, Andrew Heaney, and Max Scherzer makes me want to walk into the sea. I wonder who feels sicker: me over Corey Seager, or Cardinals fans over Adolis Garcia? On principle, I cannot root for a Bruce Bochy-led Wild Card team.
So, what am I gonna do? Root for Dusty Baker’s Astros? Loathsome. That toothpick-twirling, rubber glove-wearing, bullpen-wrecking traitor. Let’s not act like Dusty Baker is some noble symbol of returning dignity for Houston… never forget the absolute pig-dog this dude presided over, tolerated, and even encouraged. To hell with Baker, to hell with the Astros (as if I need to explain that any further), I cannot even watch this series.
Non-non-non-non-non-non-non-non heinous.
NLCS: Arizona Diamondbacks v. Philadelphia Phillies
That is Ken Kendrick, managing partner of the Arizona Diamondbacks. It’s appropriate that he looks vaguely like a slug, because he behaves vaguely like an invertebrate. Way back in 2013, this person harassed a group of Dodgers fans that were sitting behind home plate. To summarize, Kendrick didn’t like that Dodger fans were sitting in view of the center field cameras (the ones most commonly seen throughout a broadcast), and forced them to either change out of their Dodgers gear or move to different seats. I know, based on how ESPN and MLB Network have been gushing about the way Philadelphia conducted itself during the LDS against Atlanta (more on that momentarily), that pettiness is popular in baseball right now, but I cannot abide. When organizations are harassing fans, or blocking ticket sales to people in certain zip codes, that organization is garbage. Also, why a build a swimming pool if you aren’t gonna have company over to use it? Kendrick might be slug-like, but his team are a bunch of glorified worms (also invertebrates), and there is no chance I will ever root for them.
As for Philadelphia… ok I get it, a rowdy crowd is good for TV, and it’s generally good, clean, fun. The Orlando Arcia situation was largely the media’s creation, and frankly, I do not blame the Phillies or their fans for capitalizing on it. I stand with Kevin Gausman on the issue (certainly the first time I’ve ever stood with Gausman), when he said, “it’s ridiculous us players would have to watch what we say in OUR clubhouse.”
That said, it seems like putting up signage or video that is not coming organically from fans, that is cultivated by the organization itself, is petty. Think back to the “crying Kershaw” meme in San Diego. The baseball gods have a way of punishing these things. Garrett Stubbs should pause a moment to recognize that his boys still have to win two more rounds.
Again, I get this was mostly created by the media, who have convinced themselves that baseball isn’t glorious enough without garbage like this, but unlike Arcia, Stubbs is doing this for the benefit of the camera. I mean, who isn’t a fan of laughing at the Mets, but this was a stray bullet. Petty, dude. You won. The Mets are cleaning up beer cans in the beach house before the Braves and Dodgers get there. Calling out the Mets at a time like that shows that you maybe oughta charge the Mets some rent. Dude, you’re a backup catcher. You didn’t even make an appearance in the series.
So, we’ve got two loathsome organizations, two petty organizations. Not a shred of decency left in the whole lot. Baseball has, once again, left me depressed and empty. It’s not easy being so fair and balanced. Spring training is 151 days away…
Somewhere in the infinite multiverse, Mikey from Swingers (Jon Favreau) never discovers the delight of swing dancing with Heather Graham, ditches his buddies Sue and Trent, and takes off to the open road. The only things Mikey, in this case, a character called Wes (True Blood’s Ryan Kwanten) takes with him are some old belongings, some photographs of his now ex-girlfriend, and a talking Teddy Bear said girlfriend gifted to him for their anniversary. It is not clear initially whether Wes is mourning her death or simply the end of the relationship, as both are implied. He ends up at a rest stop fire pit, chugging whiskey and burning his belongings, including the pants he was wearing, and his wallet.
When morning creeps in, Wes wakes up dazed, confused and very, very sick. He rushes into the restroom to throw up, where he encounters Ghathanatoa (embodied by an always awesome JK Simmons), a demigod created for the purpose of destroying the world, who asks him for a favor.
This is an absolutely gonzo plot, and I went into the viewing with great expectations for a gory, dark comedy. It’s not that I didn’t get exactly what I was expecting, but it took a long time to get to the good stuff, and the film is only 79 minutes long.
The length of the movie should be a selling point, a run time that implies a story that cuts to the chase, but somehow, this movie plodded towards the ending. Director Rebekah McKendry was/is a director of short films, and may have been better off keeping this one in the 30 minute range.
That is not to say this film is completely unworthy of a session. Skin-crawling practical gore effects, a way outside-the-box story, and plot twist that genuinely surprised me (maybe I’m a dumb-ass for not seeing it coming) might make it worth the short amount of time you’ll commit to this little buddy. It will just feel like longer.
I must commend JK Simmons for taking this role. This curious bit alone makes the film worth starting. He continues to add to his eclectic collection of work (Whiplash, Ladykillers, the Spider-Man films), and is always excellent, or at least pretty close. I found myself wondering how much of this performance was ad-libbed, as it certainly was ripe for improv.
There are some themes about heroism and how everything is not always what it seems, but there is nothing deeply philosophical and thought-provoking. That’s okay; not all movies need that.
The Los Angeles Dodgers slouched to a 73-89 record in 1987, “good enough” for 4th place in the NL West. When the door shut on the odious ’87 campaign, in which the San Francisco Giants and St. Louis Cardinals duked it out for National League Supremacy (horrendous), Dodgers’ GM Fred Claire got busy fixing the team for the 1988 season. Without question, his biggest acquisition that offseason was the soon-to-be-immortalized-in-Dodgers-lore Kirk Gibson, thanks in no small part to a bit of good fortune thrust upon Los Angeles from the baseball gods. However, a little-noticed transaction during that doomed and gloomy 1987 campaign would prove to be almost as fortuitous.
Tim Belcher’s 1988 Topps Traded rookie card. PBTN.
The date was August 29, 1987. Rick Honeycutt, future Dodgers pitching coach, was flushed to the Oakland A’s for the always infamous player to be named later (or, PTBN). Eight days later, September 6, the PTBN made his major league debut for the Los Angeles Dodgers, earning a win, in two innings of relief, in a 2-3, 16-inning slog with the briefly mighty New York Mets. That PTBN was named Tim Belcher.
Belcher finished out 1987 in AAA, posting a 2.38 ERA with a record of 4-2 in 6 games (5 starts). In 1988, Claire, impressed with Belcher’s fiery demeanor and obvious talent, called PTBN up to the big club to be a part of the starting rotation.
I would like to take only a brief moment to celebrate the absolute perfection, to my eight year-old brain, of a man named Tim Belcher really existing.
Winter of 1987, leading to the spring of 1988: Fred Claire worked very hard over the winter, bringing Mike Davis and Kirk Gibson in on free agent contracts. Davis chose the Dodgers over the Yankees because the Dodgers offered him $1.95 million, slightly more than Bombers*. Claire also orchestrated a massive three-team trade with Oakland and the Mets (those guys again) to bring Alfredo Griffin, Jesse Orosco, and Jay Howell into the fold.
How do I know, with the exception of signing 1988 National League MVP Kirk Gibson (I will never get tired of pointing that out), the move to get Belcher was Claire’s best move of 1987?
Mike Davis (1988):
.196 avg, 2 HR, 17 RBI, and a shockingly bad .260 OBP. Davis would be out of baseball after the 1989 campaign, at the age of 30. He did draw one incredibly underrated base on balls in Game One of the 1988 World Series, but I digress.
Alfredo Griffin (1988):
.199 avg, 7 SB (from a guy who stole 24, 33, and 26 the previous 3 years), a below league average fielding percentage at shortstop, and a hideous .259 OBP. He did make one very brilliant, clutch fielding play in the NLCS, but I digress.
Jesse Orosco (1988):
A perfectly good 2.72 ERA in 55 relief appearances, 9 saves (in the pre-Bobby Thigpen days), and the inadvertent fire-lighting under the team’s ass when he put eye black inside Kirk Gibson’s hat. He didn’t throw a single pitch in the 1988 World Series, but I digress.
Jay Howell (1988):
No slouch at all. Howell led the team with 21 saves in 1988, and improved his ERA from 5.89 to 2.08. Howell also got shit-canned in the NLCS for being caught with a foreign substance on his glove**. He locked down a save in Game 4 of the World Series, in support of Tim Belcher, but only after surrendering a walk-off HR to one Mark McGwire in Game 3.
Tim Belcher (1988):
12-6, 2.91 ERA (27 starts) , 1.08 WHIP, 5 complete games, 4 saves… and a 3-0 record in the postseason, including a WS Game 1 victory over the heavily favored Oakland A’s. Yes, his WS era was 6.23, but I digress.
Belcher would also be named Sporting News Rookie Pitcher of the Year for 1988. Not bad at all for a PTBN getting paid $78,000.
Belcher was absolutely indispensable for the Dodgers for the next three seasons, finishing top 10 in Cy Young voting during his sophomore campaign, when he compiled a 15-12 record in 30 starts, leading the National League with 10 CG and 8 shutouts. Overall, he went 50-38 in his Dodgers tenure, throwing 21 complete games and carrying a career ERA to that point of 2.99. It is further remarkable that Belcher did not join the list of pitchers who had their arms mutilated by Tommy Lasorda.
After the Dodgers lost the NL West on the final day of the 1991 season, GM Fred Claire set out once again to ensure that his team would not stay down for long. On November 27, 1991, Claire traded Belcher and John Wetteland to the Cincinnati Reds for Darryl Strawberry’s “best friend”, Eric Davis. I was absolutely delighted. If you look on the back of any baseball card from that era, you will understand why. The Dodgers were about to sport an outfield of Eric Davis, Brett Butler, and Darryl Strawberry. My own personal Murderer’s Row, and it was really happening!
Belcher, however, was “baffled”. He expressed concern that Claire was being too arrogant in assuming players would naturally want to play for the Dodgers (editor’s note: any player worth their salt does). Furthermore, Belcher was compelled to comment on his now former team’s roster:
“This puts them up against the 8-ball as far as getting anything for Kal (Daniels). And the pitching staff is in a state of flux. It seems like Fred’s put himself in a position of weakness with further moves, I think. But, the Dodgers have a lot of resources and it’s not unlikely they’ll get something done to fill the voids in a short period of time.”
Belcher proved to be mistaken and prescient: Eddie Murray signed with the Mets, Mike Morgan walked prior to the season and won 16 games for the Cubs. Eric Davis played 184 games in 2 seasons with the Dodgers, hitting a total of 19 home runs, and was shipped out to Detroit halfway through the 1993 season. The 1992 Dodgers lost 99 games, and were saddled the added humiliation of opening 1993 against the expansion Florida Marlins, on the road, as a reward for being the previous season’s worst team. They lost, 6-3, to 185 year-old knuckleballer Charlie Hough. The Dodgers did not get something done to fill the void. In fact, the entire decade of the 1990s proved to be one of the oddest periods in LA baseball history. Was it all the Curse of Tim Belcher?
For his part, Belcher did not thrive outside of Los Angeles. He had two highly average years in Cincinnati, going 24-20. His lowest ERA outside of Los Angeles was 3.92 (for the Royals in 1996), and he lost a league-worst 15 games for the Detroit Tigers in a strike-shortened 1994. After leaving Cincinnati, he went 72-82. Did he get Tommy’d after all? No one wins this pissing contest.
Surely, Belcher returned to Dodger Stadium a few times throughout his career, particularly during his time with the Reds. However, if we’re being totally honest, and of course we are, this is the true homecoming, the cherry on top of the PTBN sundae known as Tim Belcher.
June 5, 1999. Belcher’s last full season in the majors:
Seriously, Tim? The Angels!?
Until next time, readers. Enjoy this NL West race.
*consider this in today’s context.
**Gotta love these announcers saying Howell accidentally picked up Alejandro Pena’s glove, then immediately knowing how absurd that is.
Massive props and full credit to baseball-reference.com, the New York Times archives, and the incomparable Ken Gurnick.
This recap is happening under the grim pallor of the Celtics’ Game 4 performance in the Eastern Conference Semi-Finals. That series, tied now at 2 games apiece, returns to Boston in approximately 60 minutes from the time of this writing. Here is hoping Jayson Tatum, 4th place finisher in the NBA MVP voting, finds it in his soul to attempt a layup as time expires, should the need arise. Here is further hoping that the need does not. Kick-outs to Marcus Smart are strictly forbidden.
There is much hullabaloo on the Boston Globe’s Celtics’ comment section that coach Joe Mazzulla deserves much or all of the blame for not calling a timeout after the Harden 3-point basket in OT. I do not disagree that he probably should have (shoot, he even admits he should have, in hindsight). However, to plagiarize commenter Poemasatree (trust me, he’s cool with it), I think much blame belongs to the team. Tatum needs to take those shots and get fouled, stop the clock, sink the free throws, and send us home. Even if he doesn’t get the foul call at the end of regulation (and I’d be willing to bet one thousand dollars he would have), we’re not worse off then we ended up anyhow, and a contested Jayson Tatum layup is always a better shot than a Marcus Smart three-point attempt. Marcus Smart is not Ray Allen.
To be fair to Smart, he did sink the 3 at the end of overtime, but MVP candidate Tatum should still be the one taking that shot, and he definitely should be aware that he didn’t have enough to time to dish out and have Smart get it off in time. The Celtics wasted 8-9 seconds just getting the ball up court.
Historical playoff choke artist James Harden is absolutely the reason that Philadelphia has won the two games they have, and I am not as confident as some that a collapse is forthcoming.
At this moment, I have a confession: There is a part of me, deep down, that hopes the Lakers beat the Warriors so that the Celtics get a chance to flush those turds themselves. Winner gets banner number 18.
Speaking of turds: Draymond Green is the worst.
Biggest turd since Bill Laimbeer.
MLB: What is going on with the Cardinals?
They are 13-24 as of this writing (nothing to be sad about, in my view, those devious birds), dead last place in the NL Central, a division that should have been, and traditionally has been, theirs for the winning.
The Redbirds started the season with Jordan Walker, a 20 year-old top rated prospect, switching from third base (where Nolan Arenado stands entrenched) to the outfield. He opened the season with a 12-game hit streak (March 30-April 12) and was hitting .319 on April 13th. By April 23rd, he was optioned to Triple A Louisville to allow the oft-injured tandem of Tyler O’Neill and Lars Nootbaar a platoon. It is true that Walker was “slumping” in comparison to his red hot start, but sending a guy down after 74 at-bats and a 12-game hit streak seems odd. Odder still, the reason the Cardinals gave for Walker’s demotion was a logjam of outfielders. It isn’t entirely out of the ordinary for the young kid with minor league options left to get the short end of the demotion stick when there is a positional logjam, but O’Neill is currently residing on the DL, and the Cardinals haven’t promoted Jordan Walker again.
What they’ve done instead is move catcher Willson Contreras and his 5-year, 87 million dollar contract to the… outfield. Contreras is not a young, inexperienced third baseman learning the outfield. He is a well-above-average hitting catcher who was anointed the replacement to the despicable but undeniably legendary Yadier Molina. He is currently being scapegoated by Cardinals manager Oli Marmol for the Cardinals odious performance, due to his inability to duplicate Yadier Molina’s work behind the plate. Marmol seems to have made a habit out of scapegoating his players, which I guess makes sense in a way, as they are the ones on the field losing games. First, it was Tyler O’Neill, who Marmol benched for insufficient hustle. Then, it was poor Jordan Walker, sent down because the Cardinals needed to make room for an outfielder with negative WAR. Now, Willson Contreras is moving to that same crowded outfield, and the Cardinals now have a player who is even further from Molina behind the plate. It doesn’t make sense, and I find it hard to imagine Marmol being able to pass the buck much longer before he gets canned. Hopefully it happens around the time he’s managed to steer the Cardinals to about 92 losses.
As if the NL Central couldn’t be more upside down, the g-danged Pittsburgh Pirates currently reside at the top of the standings. The Bob Nutting-owned Pittsburgh Pirates. I hate Bob Nutting, but I have to point something out: will you look at what happens when a team, owned by a complete lowlife cheapskate, does the bare minimum and tries at least to retain their own homegrown players? The Pirates recently invested in long-term contracts for Bryan Reynolds (who ended 2022 demanding a trade; how quickly things change) and Ke’Bryan Hayes to $186 million worth of long-term contracts, are currently engaged in talks with Mitch Keller on an extension, and brought former MVP and Pirate royalty Andrew McCutcheon back into the fold. I’m not making the case that Bob Nutting isn’t a lowlife cheapskate, but look at how the baseball gods have smiled on even a modicum of effort to compete. Will it last? Unlikely, but I really hope it does, because to hell with the Cardinals.
Speaking of small-market teams doing things the right way, is there anything more glorious than watching Tampa Bay rally off 13 consecutive wins to start the season (currently standing at 29-9) while the mighty New York Yankees reside in the AL East cellar? After consecutive win number 10, I texted a few of my A’s fans buddies and asked them if they are rooting for Tampa Bay, or if they are angry, because it just goes to show how much BS Oakland A’s owner John Fisher’s song and dance actually is.
Then, there’s this guy:
He can say the chant didn’t bother him. I assure you it did. Nobody cares enough to go out of their way to prove they don’t care unless they care very deeply. I absolutely hope it did bother him, because he bothers me.
The Padres got a bit of comeuppance after beating the Dodgers 33% of the time and parading around like they won the World Series, even posting a picture of Clayton Kershaw crying on the Jumbotron while they chanted, “Beat LA”. First of all, this chant… it just isn’t the sick burn you think it is. It originated in the 1980’s with Boston Celtics fans, who chanted it during a Celtics/Pistons playoff game in 1988. The Garden faithful were making chicken salad out of our playoff loss to the loathsome Pistons by encouraging them to, at least, beat the Lakers in the Finals. It was originally meant as a sign of solidarity. Second, dude, no one chants “beat the Padres”. Finally, don’t copy the copiers and do what Giants fans do. I’m almost (almost) offended on SF’s behalf that these ringless jerks would even try to step to the Dodgers as rivals. Sorry, San Diego, there is only one rivalry in Los Angeles, and it is certainly not with the Padres. Dodgers fans call Petco Park “Dodger Stadium South”. Padres brass knows it, too, which is why the literally banned people from outside San Diego’s area code from buying tickets to the playoff series last year. We just wanna squeeze your chubby wittle cheeks and pat you on your heads. In other words, you just don’t send us, babies.
But, I digress a bit. The Dodgers ended up taking 2 out of three from the Padres, despite Tatis Jr.’s usual Dodger-killing antics (2 very long home runs in game 1). Another series approaches this weekend, from Dodger Stadium Dodger Stadium, in Los Angeles. The Dodgers currently sit atop the NL West at 23-15, Padres are 19-18, and I predict will be below .500 come Monday morning.
Professional Wrestling: Briefly, Nick Aldis has returned to Impact to challenge new World Champion Steve Maclin. I haven’t been this excited about anything on Impact in a very, very long time. I should know not to get to too excited, as the returns of EC3 and Eric Young were lackluster, for sure. Nick Aldis is a different breed though.
Now…
After Roman Reign’s successful titles defense against Cody Rhodes at WrestleMania (you can go read about it below, if you haven’t yet), the former has been drafted full time to Friday Night Smackdown and left Raw without an official World Champion. Technically, this has been the case for months, as Reigns was only appearing on Fridays, anyhow. The dearth of a world heavyweight champion on Raw created an opening for guys like Seth Rollins and Austin Theory to establish the United States Championship as the primary championship on Mondays, but it just wasn’t gonna happen. Rollins has stopped being interesting, and Austin Theory, while glorious, is not yet established enough to elevate a championship. Even if Theory was established to the point where he was elevating the belt instead of the belt elevating him, it is still the United States championship, and that will never be perceived as a title equal to, let alone greater than, a world championship. This predicament was rendering Monday Night Raw, Vince McMahon’s flagship program for 30 years, as the B show.
WWF decided to book Roman Reigns in two separate matches on a single night at the upcoming Night of Champions Pay-Per-View, emanating objectionably from Saudi Arabia. On this night, Roman Reigns is obligated to defend both straps, since he is the reigning champion on both shows. Intercontinental Champion Gunther and United States Champion Austin Theory will get shots for the titles on their respective brands, and a coin toss will determine who gets to go second. After a grueling match with either secondary champ, Reigns would truly have to be a Universal Champion to successfully defend his other title immediately proceeding the first match. If Roman loses the first match, a championship match between the winner of that match and the other opponent will be scheduled for the next PPV. If Reigns loses the second match, he will still look very strong, considering it took what was essentially a head start for his second opponent to beat him. He still retains one title, defends it on Smackdown, and Raw has a champion (whoever it is) that can claim they beat Roman Reigns and is therefore a legitimate champion. A tournament will then be held for the vacated secondary title and a new contender’s pool will form.
Oh wait, that is not what happened (save the part about a PPV in Saudi Arabia).
Instead, the World Wrestling Federation has decided to just… create a new World Heavyweight Championship belt. There is a tournament underway to determine who will fight for the newly minted title at Night of Champions in Saudi Arabia. No one will even have to fight Roman Reigns. This is the absolute manifestation of a consolation prize, and it’s also kinda hideous:
There is a scintilla of the old WCW World Heavyweight Championship we all love, but that logo in the middle is atrocious.
So, that’s lame on two levels already. Now, let’s discuss the bracket:
So we’ve got two guys who didn’t even have a match at WrestleMania, suddenly worthy of a spot in a tournament of contenders (Bobby Lashley and the Miz, because that garbage with Snoop Dogg does not count as a match)? We’ve got two more guys who haven’t wrestled in months (Styles and Nakamura), and one guy who lost a match to a pop star (Priest). Theory deserves a spot in the tournament, the reason rests on his left shoulder, but where is Gunther? Why is the first round triple-threat matches? Cody Rhodes had a great showing at WrestleMania, he certainly is worthy of seeding, but should he win, how does this complete his “story”? This is not the belt that his father couldn’t win. This isn’t the belt that he stabbed all his AEW confidantes in the back to pursue. Cody’s a smart guy, I’m sure he could make the argument that being the first to hold this brand new championship is the beginning of his own legacy, but is that really even true? Haven’t you been NWA World Heavyweight Championship, as your father before you? Wasn’t that the culmination of your legacy?
I appreciate WWF’s mission to have a major championship on both shows, but whoever wins this tournament will still be in Roman Reign’s shadow. But then again, aren’t we all?
By the power invested in me by the Gods of Rock, I am officially withdrawing from my post as Patron Saint of Aerosmith.
Has there ever been a legendary rock band that has made their patron saint’s job more difficult? Through the years of embarrassing movie soundtrack songs, even more embarrassing Super Bowl halftime shows, unbearable album titles (Honkin’ on Bobo), and Steven Tyler’s stint on American Idol, not only did I stand by them, I exalted their righteousness as a pantheon-worthy band. Well, f** it, I quit. There’s an adage about standing by your friends, backing their plays, and I’m very big on loyalty. However, our friends have a responsibility to us, as well, to make sure we don’t have to back bad plays. Aerosmith has proven that loyalty is a one-way street.
And I really be feelin’ like I should movin’ on…
It all started in January of 2020, during Aerosmith’s ill-fated Las Vegas residency. I had mixed feelings about a residency at all, but as long as it kept them out of the studio recording music written by professional song doctors, I could live with it. Perhaps they would even choose their setlist wisely and reclaim a bit of their decadent, 1970s glory (spoiler: they didn’t). After a myriad of show cancellations, usually due to Tyler’s relapses or injuries, it seemed inconceivable that any tragedy could befall them in a Vegas hotel room. They only had to travel up and down in an elevator.
What I should have recognized is that Aerosmith are the masters of self-inflicted wounds.
The seeds of the problem actually took root in April of 2019, when drummer Joey Kramer somehow did manage to injure himself, forcing the band to complete the remaining slate of dates with a fill-in (Kramer’s drum tech, if you can believe that). Kramer claimed it was a minor injury, and in fact was ready to return to the stage by June of that year, when the second slate of performances was set to begin. According to Kramer’s replacement, John Douglas, he was “told” by Steven Tyler that Kramer was unable to perform those dates, and that he would be filling in for the remainder of the residency.
All the while, Joe Perry had been barnstorming with the odious Hollywood Vampires, playing second guitar for Johnny Depp. This is only important because of the context; Joe Perry and Joey Kramer were treated quite differently within the band.
Joe Perry suffered a goddamn heart attack in 2016 while touring with Vampires, and there was never any question that if Aerosmith needed to cancel shows to get Perry back to full health, it would have been done. Of course, there is a clear argument that, in the Aerosmith hierarchy, Joey Kramer is no Joe Perry. That much is obvious, and really, not the issue.
Aerosmith did, in fact, cancel shows from their 2016 tour, and their 2017 follow-up (the atrociously named Aero-Verderci European “farewell” tour) due to injury/illness befallen upon Perry and Tyler. Fair enough, as there is no Aerosmith without the Toxic Twins. What did not happen to Tyler and Perry that did happen to Kramer, is that they were not made to re-audition for the band.
Aerosmith has been releasing records since 1973. Joey Kramer has been the drummer for each of those releases. Joe Perry cannot claim the same accolade in regards to his guitar playing. Joe Perry left the band in 1979 during the recording of Night in the Ruts, and was absent entirely from Rock in a Hard Place (an underrated anomaly of the weird, odd, and boozy).
I cannot think of a circumstance in which it is appropriate for a band as long-running and successful as Aerosmith to make a founding member re-audition. They rightfully did not do it to Joe Perry, and they damn sure shouldn’t have done it to Joey Kramer. It’s a huge kick in the balls to the guy responsible for the beat to Walk This Way.
Ok, so the guy was injured and needed some time to get back into fighting shape.
In January of 2020, Joey Kramer sued Aerosmith for the opportunity to be included in the Grammys Lifetime Achievement Honors concert, during which the band would be honored. Making the guy re-audition is bad enough, excluding him from this event is absurd. In his suit, Kramer correctly mentions that other members of Aerosmith have suffered injuries and setbacks and have not been made to re-audition, let alone excluded from band events. Excluding him from a lifetime achievement award seems spiteful and cruel, and certainly not in the spirit of brotherhood you would expect from a band that has been together so many years.
The band had the temerity to claim in their response that allowing him to join the band on such “short notice” would be doing a “disservice” to the fans. Gross.
And if you think that’s gross, wait until you get a load of Steven Tyler as of 12 hours ago.
Today, Steven Tyler submitted his defense against a sexual abuse lawsuit filed in December of 2022.
Look, I get it. the 1970s were a different time. Things have damn sure changed since then. Behaviors that were indulged or ignored in 1973 are absolutely frowned upon in 2023. I’m sure you can deduce what some of those things might be. I’m not here to litigate what is or isn’t appropriate, or how long is too long to come forward about something that happened to you but…
In his memoir, Steven Tyler admits that he became sexually involved with a 16 year-old (with some very colorful language), eventually adopting her so that he wouldn’t get arrested taking her across state lines.
In her suit, Tyler’s accuser claims he forced her to have an abortion at 17.
Tyler’s defense, paraphrased, is that Tyler committed no crime because the female consented and that his legal guardianship grants him “immunity or qualified immunity.”
Steven Tyler is arguing that legal guardianship grants a person immunity from prosecution for sexually assaulting the person they are legally a guardian for. That’s positively heinous. Imagine the claim he is actually making, taken to the logical conclusion.
So yeah, can’t defend these guys any longer. Does that mean I can’t enjoy their catalog? Does it lessen their art? I can answer in the resoundingly negative for both of those instances, in my case, but I wouldn’t blame you for feeling otherwise. To be sure, I won’t be buying any more Aerosmith merchandise so that my hard-earned dollars can go to funding this skin-crawling defense. I probably wouldn’t buy any more Aerosmith music anyhow, the last album was awful, and dude, it’s just time to stop. Take a permanent vacation.
The Boston Celtics are now 2 games back with 4 games to play after making venison jerky out of those wimpy deer, 140-99, in Milwaukee. The C’s have a road game against Philadelphia, two in a row at home against Toronto (!!), and close out at home against Atlanta. The Bucks have a road game Tuesday against the Wizards, then two at home against the Bulls and The Grizzlies (not a team I’m excited to root for), and finish on the road against the Raptors. The Ringer’s odds machine says the Celtics have an 18 percent chance of pulling it off. I like our chances considerably more.
Max Fried lasted 3 1/3 innings before exiting with a hamstring injury, and Keibert Ruiz most certainly did not go 4-4. James Outman had a monster game, and currently, Miguel Vargas has 8 walks, 1 double, and only 5 official at-bats. Let’s keep that pace, for sure. Trayce Thompson tread all over that snake, Madison Bumgarner, for 3 HR and 8 RBI, while Kershaw struck out 9 in 6 innings, exerting his dominance (as if there has ever been any actual comparison between Bumgarner and Kershaw).
The Diamondbacks are truly a bunch of glorified worms, so leaving a home series with a 2-2 split is not exactly ideal.
It’s hard to feel disappointed, though, when baseball is commencing and it is WrestleMania weekend. I’ve decided not to address the unfortunate news regarding Vince McMahon’s return to WWF creative (except to let you know I’m not going to address it), and focus on the in-ring competition. Although, can I take a moment to ask what is going on with Vince McMahon’s face?
I could preface all of this with some cliche’ about good, bad, and ugly, but that would be cheap and easy. Instead, how about an abrupt transition?
John Cena v. Austin Theory (United States Championship Match):
I must mention that I had a room of 7 year-olds with me the first night of ‘Mania, and this match, specifically, is catered to them. As the one who wasn’t my son mentioned, John Cena was “too old to wear those shoes.” Cena has always dressed like a “cool dad”, but now he just kind of looks like a dad trying to be cool. His hair is longer and sparser than it has ever been, an impressive feat. It’s somewhere on the baldness scale between young Arn Anderson and Hulk Hogan.
Austin Theory dispatched Cena after the referee was knocked out. Cena had him locked in a STFU, and Theory wisely tapped out (without the referee to call it) so that Cena would break the hold. Meathead Cena didn’t see the referee go down, and started celebrating (prematurely) his victory. Theory nailed him with the A-Town down to successfully retain his title.
7 year-olds go apoplectic. I feel sublime. The run of having all champions I like will continue…for now.
Braun Strowman & Ricochet v. The Street Prophets v. Alpha Academy v. The Viking Raiders:
Nothing to see here. Alpha Academy’s Chad Gable is the greatest thing to happen to pro wrestling since Kurt Angle, and everyone is very jealous that Otis Dozovic gets to hang out with beautiful ladies thanks to a successful hand modeling career. Strength, talent, and beauty… no wonder everyone is booing him. I would think that a place as glorious and beautiful as Los Angeles would appreciate a man of Otis’ considerable gifts, but heavy is the head that wears the crown. This sucked, but at least it was short.
Seth Rollins v. Logan Paul:
The entire building, all 80,947 of them, are correctly booing Logan Paul. Because this is WrestleMania and not the douchebag olympics, Logan Paul will not emerge victorious. Logan Paul is the kind of guy who will never get to the “find out” section “f*** around/find out” graph, because the more we hate him, the stronger he seems to get. Logan Paul lost, but he wasn’t even the biggest loser in this match. There were 3 bigger losers:
Seth Rollins, for having to soil his hands with this obnoxious social media star. Here is a guy who has headlined past WrestleManias, held the Universal Championship on multiple occasions, and deserved a match that would at least move him up the rankings for a future title shot. Instead, he’s wrestling against a goon and a guy dressed up as an energy drink. Really.
The fans that had to sit through this match.
Any wrestler who did not have a match on WrestleMania’s card. There is a roster full of kids who have been breaking their back all year, or for multiple years, to get a shot on wrestling’s grandest stage, who were sitting in the back watching a YouTube celebrity take a mid-card spot. Bobby Lashley, Killer Kross, and Dolph Ziggler, to name a few, are skilled veterans with championship pasts that were relegated to pre-show Battle Royals that no one actually cares about, despite the sizzle reels Vince keeps producing to convince us otherwise.
Logan Paul is absolute garbage.
Becky Lynch, Trish Stratus, and Lita v. Damage CTRL:
Time for a slice of pizza, an edible, and a bathroom break.
Rey Mysterio v. Dominik Mysterio:
I have never, ever liked Rey Mysterio. If I was Rey Mysterio, I would also hide my face behind a mask. How could I have the temerity to show my face in public, after unleashing over 20 years of this spot-monkey flea circus act on the masses?
That said, I was legitimately heartsick watching him fight his own son. Overall, I was pulling for Dominik, on a macro level. I think getting out from under your old man’s shadow to hang out with the smoke show Rhea Ripley is a fantastic choice. It’s the rite of passage to manhood. No one can just be their father’s smiling, goofy, baby-kissing sidekick forever. But geez, you can’t call your old man out. The crowd seemed to be on Rey’s side, which I understand, but cheering for this at all just seems to be in bad taste. Rey won, Dominik lost, so really, no one wins: Rey had to beat up his kid and Dominik lost to an old man, leaving him with few prospects to get out of the WWF cellar.
Charlotte Flair v. Rhea Ripley (Smackdown Women’s Championship):
Charlotte Flair has been the best the company has to offer, man or woman, for a few years now, especially after she kicked her own embarrassing father to the curb. Rhea Ripley won the women’s Royal Rumble in January and has a dominant championship run under her belt. This is the kind of stuff I love: a match with no obvious favorite.
The story leading up to the match was simple: Ripley wins the Rumble, and chooses to compete against Flair for the Smackdown Women’s Championship at WrestleMania. The championship is the storyline. Two women with mutual respect and mutual dislike for each other, vying to be the best, on pro wrestling’s biggest stage.
Rhea Ripley emerged victorious after a grueling wrestling match. Counter moves and the catch-as-catch-can style, where each competitor is keeping a tight circle around their opponent, are the ingredients for the kinds of matches I really enjoy watching. If you do nothing else, make sure you see that german suplex Ripley unleashed on Flair. Ouch.
My only complaint is that Charlotte hung around after the match, smiling like she was proud of Ripley. It seemed a little spotlight-hogging or belittling to Ripley, but I guess if Ripley doesn’t feel that way, who am I?
Pat McAfee v. The Miz:
Oh, what’s that? Time for another slice? Football announcer versus “Real World” participant. Hard pass. This is the kind of stuff that makes pro wrestling hard to defend, and it is happening in the shadow of a Logan Paul match. No thanks. Oh yeah, this match was added to the card by Snoop Dogg. Phew, that’s a horrible smell.
The Usos v. Sami Zayn & Kevin Owens (Undisputed Tag Team Championships):
Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn first came across my radar as Kevin Steen and El Generico in ROH in the early-mid 2000s. Kevin Owens has been a gross slob, wrestling in a doublet that was too small or his pajamas since those days, and Zayn/Generico wore a luchador mask, until he dropped said mask and started coming out to the ring dressed like a1990’s ska dork. His entrance music sounds like a bad teenage movie soundtrack from 1997. I half expect Stiffler to show up and accompany him to the ring. They’ve been on-again, off-again friends many times over, usually with Steen/Owens doing the backstabbing and the dumb puppy dog Zayn/Generico winning his friend back in the end. I’ve never liked either of them, so I cared little about their bromance.
Then, Kevin Owens got smart, dumped Zayn what seemed like for good, and started a new best friendship with Chris Jericho. Finally, I could get behind Owens, who despite appearances to the contrary, is a pretty good athlete. My appreciation was short-lived, as Owens turned his back on Jericho on live TV during what was supposed to be a “celebration of friendship”. If I learned one thing under the Randy Savage learning tree, it is that we never forget, never forgive something like that.
Zayn, meanwhile, toiled deservedly in opening match hell as recently as last year’s WrestleMania, where he “fought” Johnny Knoxville of Jackass! fame in a match that included a giant mousetrap. Putrid tripe, but at least he wasn’t asking me to take him seriously. It seemed like Zayn was sick of that career path, himself, and made the wise decision to endear himself to the Bloodline, of which the Usos, Jimmy and Jey, are an integral part.
When the time came for Zayn to finally show his appreciation to the Bloodline for dragging him out of wrestling purgatory, all he had to do was hit the treacherous Owens with a steel chair. His ascension would be complete. Zayn revealed his own treachery by refusing to comply, choosing instead to throw his lot in with Owens. Keep in mind, this is the same Kevin Owens who power-bombed Zayn into the ring apron in the middle of the latter’s first championship match, leaving him unconscious. The man has no low to which he will not stoop, and Zayn decided, once again, to trust him. I hope they both catch fleas.
I sincerely hoped the Usos would exact revenge on their tormentors this evening, but it was not to be. The crowd seemed to have forgotten how loathsome Zayn and Owens are, as well, as they were firmly behind the pair. I cannot understand what people have against the Bloodline, but as with Otis Dozovic, I can only chalk it up to envy. My dream of having all champions I like has died. Long live the Bloodline.
Night 2
Brock Lesnar v. Omos
It isn’t often Brock Lesnar is dwarfed by an opponent, but that was certainly the case here. This match was mercifully brief, and I really can’t think of anything interesting to say about it. Lesnar wins, now we won’t see him until SummerSlam or so. Rough start to night two, let’s move on.
Liv Morgan & Raquel Rodriguez v. Natalya & Shotzi v. Ronda Rousey & Shayna Bazler v. Chelsea Green and Sonya Deville
That’s a mouthful. The notion that they found time to put this match on the main card but excluded the aforementioned talent that got flushed for McAfee/Miz is mind-boggling. This match was meaningless, as two of the four teams are not even full-time teams, so there is no ranking at stake. Just a boring showcase of subpar wrestling (all due respect to Rousey and Natalya).
Drew McIntyre v. Gunther v. Sheamus (Intercontinental Heavyweight Championship):
The line of wrestlers who have held the Intercontinental Championship reads like a who’s who of my favorite guys: Randy Savage, Mr. Perfect, Shawn Michaels, Chris Jericho, Randy Orton, Kurt Angle, and CM Punk, just to name a few. As announcer Corey Graves mentioned last night, it has always been a “workhorse” championship. My anticipation for this match was high, and I was not disappointed.
Gunther and Sheamus have already had a show-stopping match, my personal pick for Match of the Year in 2022, at Clash at the Castle. Drew McIntyre is not far removed from a World Championship reign that nobody got to witness, thanks to Covid. It’s great to see him coming for the IC title. Sometimes, a three-way match can become a bit of a chaotic mess, with sequences that stretch the suspension of disbelief. Guys who would normally stand toe-to-toe in combat find themselves flailing out of the ring after one knife-edge chop, and sometimes they can run a little too long.
That was not the case here.These guys started off trying to bloody each other’s chests, fighting each other over the chance to beat the third one up. Gunther, the ring general who has expressed his intention to save the sport of professional wrestling from clowns like the New Day, managed to hold on to his title, but the story of the match was really how far friends McIntyre and Sheamus were willing to go to earn the championship from him. Watching friends brutalize each other over a championship raises the value of that championship. Gunther has climbed up the leaders’ list of longest, uninterrupted IC championship reigns, already holding the record for the 21st century and creeping up on Randy Savage and the Honky Tonk Man for longest all-time. I love this stuff, and regardless of what happened with the tag team championships, at least I still have Gunther.
Asuka v. Bianca Belair (Raw Women’s Championship):
I like both of these girls, and they both deserve to be in the title picture (much like the two ladies who competed for the Smackdown championship the night before). Asuka has a special place in my heart, because she’s the one my daughter roots for, but I could do without the face paint and magic mist. Bianca Belair is just likable (that ring entrance!), and she brings a big match energy with her every time she sets foot in the squared circle. Becky Lynch gets a lot of recognition for being the complete package, having solid ring work and strong mic skills, but I just don’t see how Bianca Belair isn’t better than her in every single way.
I’ve seen/heard people complaining that this match didn’t have enough build-up to make it interesting, but I guess those people don’t like pro wrestling. The championship is always reason enough to fight, and if you weren’t interested in this match within the first five minutes, you don’t actually like wrestling, you like something else that shares aspects of wrestling, but rings are not necessary. Well, maybe engagement rings, but not places where gladiators gladiate.
Snoop Dogg v. The Miz:
Normally, I would have been grabbing a third slice, but that was Shane McMahon’s music! Oh crap, in the words of Jim Ross, I think Shane may have just broken in half. Good luck finding footage of it, but I hope Shane recovers fully. What is it with McMahons and non-contact injuries?
So now, I get to watch Snoop Dogg drop the People’s Elbow on Miz. Awful.
Edge v. Finn Balor (Hell in a Cell):
I’ve normally got no use for Edge and his belt-licking ways. The guy looks like a katydid and used to pretend he had vampire powers. No thanks. I’m also usually not impressed by ring entrances. Yeah, they’re cool, but they aren’t usually a reflection of how cool the wrestler is. In this case, though, I make an exception:
Yep, that’s Edge, entering the ring to Slayer. Corey Graves took the words right out of my mouth when he said he never had Slayer being played at WrestleMania on his bingo card. In fact, quick shout out to Corey Graves for consistently being the best part of any announce team he’s on. Yes, the bar is imperceptibly low at this point (Monsoon and Ventura ain’t coming through that door), but he’s great.
Finn Balor, with all his airbrushed bodypaint, just didn’t measure up. Dude, Edge had Slayer.
Hell in a Cell has also never really been my thing. Yeah, Foley v. Undertaker was a hell of a thing to see, but that’s because things went wrong. Hell in a Cell usually means two quality wrestlers, main-event guys, will be putting on an absurd stunt show. I can’t sit and watch people throw each other into a chain-link fence for very long.
We’ve come along way since chair shots and cage matches were considered heinous. Now they are routine. When is the last time someone didn’t go through a table? I’m just not impressed.
Sure enough, Balor was split open in the first few minutes of the match. Unexpectedly, the camera panned away and the medical staff quickly stitched him up so he could continue. Normally, they let the blood flow for cinematic effect, but I think I actually prefer it this way, as it is what would happen in a sanctioned athletic contest. Overall, nothing I would write home about, but people are into this sort of thing, so…
Edge won the match, and I don’t care.
Cody Rhodes v. Roman Reigns (Undisputed Universal Championship):
I could go on and on about why I dislike calling the championship the “universal” championship, but honestly, Roman Reigns has been delivering the goods for so long now, he just might be the champion of the universe. There is a certain irony with Roman Reigns. First, wrestling fans booed him because they felt, perhaps justifiably, that he was being shoved down their throats and hadn’t earned his stature in the sport. No matter how hard Vince & Co. tried to make fans love him, they just would not. He was criticized on everything from work rate to mic skills, and even a leukemia diagnosis didn’t buy him admiration.
Roman Reigns responded by earning everything. He beat the Undertaker at WrestleMania, he defeated Brock Lesnar multiple times, he acquired the services of Paul Heyman, united both world titles into one, and hasn’t lost a match since December of 2019. Roman Reigns has held the pinnacle championship in professional wrestling for 944 days as of this WrestleMania, and still, the fans boo him.
They cheer for a weasel named Cody Rhodes. Cody Rhodes was formerly employed by WWF, until he requested his release in 2016. At the time, it was understandable. He had been saddled with a horrible gimmick, and rightfully wanted no part of that obscene spectacle. When he left, he was critical of the WW”E” and their stubborn commitment to “sports entertainment”. He would become a world traveler, going on to hold championships in TNA, NJPW, and the NWA, the latter being especially poignant due to the accomplishments of his old man, “The American Dream” Dusty Rhodes. His match against Nick Aldis at All In was not only an instant classic, but the germination of a new company that Rhodes would help create: AEW.
Rhodes even went so far as to crush, with a sledgehammer, on live TV, a throne that looked very similar to the one Triple H had taken to sitting on during his ring entrances. It was a not-so-subtle shot at the tired direction the WWE was taking, and loud pronouncement of how the Rhodes family saw themselves in the hierarchy of the sport. Cody was not going to allow himself to be ridiculed or buried. He would make his own legacy, without Vince’s entertainment machine behind him.
And, by god, it was working. AEW is now a successful wrestling promotion, with a primetime TV slot, sponsors, and a touring apparatus. Most importantly, AEW is markedly different from WWF in that wrestlers have some agency in how they are represented and used.
Cody Rhodes returned to WWF in 2021. After all of that, he crawled back.
His expressed reason is that he wanted to accomplish something that his father never could. He wanted to be Universal Champion. This is the company that gave Dusty Rhodes polka dot ring gear, and that Dusty himself fought tooth and nail against for years as booker for WCW. The company that went out of their way to humiliate Cody just a few years ago.
Worst of all, Cody left AEW, the company that he founded and mutually benefitted from, scrambling to explain why their CEO had left for WWE. They were supposed to be in this together.
Cody earned the fans’ respect when he fought Seth Rollins inside a cage with a complete tear in his pectoral muscle. Then, he left to nurse his injury. Reigns managed to stay injury-free while Cody was gone for nearly a year, competing in each main event on every major card and defending his championship. Yet, for some reason, the crowd still chose Cody at WrestleMania. The injustice of it all could bring a man to tears.
But not Roman Reigns. He shattered the dream of the “American Nightmare” last night and successfully retained his championship. He pulled out all the stops necessary, understanding the importance of the championship, that it goes beyond serving as a trinket to make a father proud. It is a lifestyle, it is a legacy, and if you have to stoop to underhanded tactics to retain it, then that is what you do. If you don’t care enough to cheat, you don’t care enough.
Cody Rhodes can take some solace in the fact that he did accomplish something his father never did: he lost in the main event of WrestleMania.
A Fool Speaks Loudest 
