Blue Moon Blog

One of the baseball books I’ve read this Spring in anticipation of the new season was Kadir Nelson’s gorgeous new book, We Are the Ship. The eight years he dedicated to its making are much-evident and make it well worth multiple readings. Not just a children’s book, or a coffee table book, pure history or a simple collection of paintings, this book transcends genre or format to be a thing entirely its own.

Written in the collective “we” voice, Nelson’s narrator speaks for all players of the Negro Leagues, the “everyplayer” that tells the sad but inspiring story of these fine players who were not allowed to play in the major leagues. So, they carved out their own place; their own ship. The book doesn’t flinch from the hard, shameful truths of racial bias in our history, or sugarcoat the weaknesses of some players within the Negro Leagues. Rather, it’s a full and ultimately hopeful portrait and tale, of proud men doing what they loved, paving the way for integration, not only in baseball, but more broadly in all of American society.

The book is filled with reproductions of Nelson’s outstanding oil paintings: strong portraits; blazing action; quiet anticipation; and the obvious pride these players had in themselves and what they were doing, that Nelson feels for them. These works are rich and powerful, meticulously researched and executed, bringing to life for us the subject(s), many of them otherwise largely lost to history, lifting them up to mythic and heroic proportions, while remaining true and real.

The book covers greats like Josh Gibson, Jackie Robinson and Satchel Page, but also gives lesser known players their due, as well as the men who not only played but started and ran the league, while acknowledging the important roles played white owners and general managers like Branch Rickey and Bill Veeck, who were instrumental in breaking the color barrier to the major leagues. Without this league, without the efforts of these players, the careers of Hank Aaron, Ernie Banks, Frank Robinson, Roberto Clemente, and a host of others would not be fully realized or known to us.

The smaller images I’ve included here do not do this tremendous book justice. It can be enjoyed in many ways from many angles. One can just pour over the paintings, or read through the text while scanning them as illustrations, or it can be lingered over to revisit favorite chapters. Grab a copy from your local library today, or pick up a copy of your own. This one’s a keeper.

Like our li’l pal, Quisp (whom I wrote about yesterday), another and far more obscure cereal in the early-to-mid ’70s was Freakies. With the first commercial, which introduced all the characters and featured their theme song, I was hooked.

I can’t recall what the cereal itself was like? I’m sure it tasted like most, y’know — sugary. Don’t they all? I’m pretty sure the bits of cereal were roughly in the shapes of assorted Freakies characters, but you probably had to look closely or use your imagination. I recall we had the Freakies magnets on our fridge, so my siblings and I were fans. Even though the cereal lasted but two years, you can still order tees and toys, no doubt due to a sense of nostalgia felt by folks my age.

When I’ve brought them up to anybody over the years, nobody (but my brothers) has had any idea what I was talking about. Perhaps Freakies have always stuck in my mind thanks to the last name of “Fricke” (pronounced with a long “e”). Kids were quick to put two and two together, so that song was sung to me on the playground. They just repeated the first line, really, but that was all they needed to know for their purposes! But here’s the rest of the lyrics, anyway:

Oh we are the Freakies
We are the Freakies
And this is our Freakies Tree

And we never miss a meal
Cause we love our cereal

This is the Big Boss
We call him BossMoss
Make sure you spell it right

Snorkeldorf they call me
So handsome and pretty

Here’s little Hamhose
He’s got a weird nose
Do I really have to sing?

My name is Grumble
I am Cowmumble
You’re standing on my foot

Gargle is his name
Smartness is my game
I know more than you do

And don’t forget me
I’m Goody-Goody
I always do what’s right
For instance, I eat Freakies
cause it’s got a lot of vitamins
and it’s good for me

Oh we are the Freakies
We are the Freakies
And this is our Freakies Tree
Yessir..

The song is pretty catchy, actually, another reason they’ve stuck with me. Like the cereal itself probably stuck in your teeth! It’s pretty clear with both Freakies and Quisp, and nearly every other kids’ cereal product, it was the characters, animation and commercials that hooked us and that we remember, far more than the cereal itself.

One of the robots I posted yesterday reminded me of the Quaker cereal character, Quisp. He’s not a robot, but an alien. Always marketed alongside his rival, Quake, they apparently had a competition from 1970-1972, played out over several commercials, and Quisp won, hands down. Quake was always such a big doofus lunkhead. The weird little extraterrestrial’s cereal was better, too, though nothing more than sugar. Here’s a sample commercial:

By the late ’70s, Quisp cereal was discontinued, but has since made a comeback, though with limited distribution. The cartoon at the official Quisp site is well done, put together by John Kricsfalusi and the fine folks at Spumco that brought you Ren & Stimpy. Towards the end, implied reference is made to Qusip’s earlier Cereal Wars with Quake. Done with flash, it looks a lot cleaner than those early commercials. Those done in the ’60s & ’70s hold a certain charm, though, the animation done the old-fashioned way. Quisp’s voice evokes a Jerry lewis vibe, something played up in the more recent Spumco online ad. There’s another influence in the earlier voice, too, though I can’t quite place it? Reminiscent of Wally’s Cox’s Underdog voicing? That’s not it. Anyone?

Quisp was created by Jay Ward and Bill Scott, the team responsible for Rocky & Bullwinkle. I found a few toys available at ebay and elsewhere online. He’s a cute little guy, and apparently, a baseball fan, too.

I’ve returned to the blog a day early to ring in the opening of the new baseball season. A few teams played last night, including the Washington Nationals, who won with a walk-off homer in their new stadium .

Though I rooted for the Cincinnati Reds while growing up in Chicago, I was still a Cubs and Sox fan. And now transplanted in Minnesota, I can’t shake that Cubbie Blue; it seems to be in my blood. The Cubs debut this afternoon if the game isn’t rained out (looks bleak). If they play, though I’m working like crazy, I get to watch while I draw, one of the perks of working from the home studio!

For more vids and to learn about Mercedes Landazuri, visit her YouTube page (another favorite of mine is I’ve Got a Crush On You) or the Mercedes Island web site.

Up here in Minnesota, the temperatures are finally starting to rise, the snow is melting and the last week or two my daughter Emily has been asking, “Daddy, do you wish it was Spring?” Yes, I do. Almost here, but it can take its time, as we may not have regular 70+ degree temps for another six-to-eight weeks. So, to help get through this last push, my thoughts turn to baseball. Despite the steroids and scandals and high ticket prices, I feel like a little kid again as each April approaches and spring training begins, and long for the official first pitch, that first crack of the bat.

Over the years around this time, I’ve been reading a baseball book to get in the mood and whet the appetite. If you like baseball at all, you may want to dip into one of these best I’ve found before the ump says “Play Ball!”

Wrigleyworld - Sports columnist Kevin Kudak quit his job to move back to Chicago to live in Wrigleyville, with an intent to attend as many Cubs games as he could during the 2005 season. He found an apartment in the area to share, and bought no tickets in advance, usually snagging scalped tickets just before the game. Filled with fun and funny anecdotes, chronicling his adventures and those of fellow Cubs enthusiasts who make up the obsessed and crazy culture that’s grown in and around Wrigley Field. A quick read, this one’s a must for Cubs and baseball fans.

If I Never Get Back - Out of print for some time, this charming genre melange is now available in paperback. Mixing time travel, romance, baseball and historical fiction in an utterly entertaining fantasy in which the protagonist finds himself playing on the first official baseball team, the Cincinnati Red Stockings, and gallivanting with the likes of Mark Twain. I’ve just discovered author Daryl Brock followed up in 2002 with a sequel, Two in the Field, which I’ve not yet read (next year!).

Ball Four: The Final Pitch - Pitcher Jim Bouton chronicles his last days in baseball with this humorous tell-all. Written in the form of a journal or diary, Bouton exposes behind the scenes dugout and locker room anecdotes with no holds barred and self deprecation. Quick, light reading.

Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game - Micheal Lewis explores how Billy Beane, general manager of the A’s and a former player figures how to win in the Major Leagues on a small budget. Starting with using mathematical analysis of the game concocted by Bill James and his annual stats newsletter, Baseball Abstract, the book is a fascinating look at creative and imaginative ways a GM can run a small market team.

This year, I’m reading We Are the Ship and The Boy Who Saved Baseball, and both look great so far. The former is a beautifully illustrated overview of the Negro League, the latter a novel actually for ages 9-12, but if the beginning is any indication, there’s plenty for adult baseball fans to chew on.

Of course, if reading isn’t your cuppa, there are many great baseball movies to take in, my favorites being Field of Dreams, The Natural, Bull Durham, Pride of the Yankees, Damn Yankees, Eight Men Out, A League of Their Own, and the lesser known TV movie, Long Gone, starring CSI’s William Peterson, along with team owner Henry Gibson, and his son, played by Teller (he speaks); a perfect casting match. Also worth while are Ken Burns’ documentary on baseball (particularly the first few episodes, before it becomes too New York-centric) and This Old Cub, the recent documentary about former Cub and present-day radio sportscaster, Ron Santo, which covers his efforts to be voted into the Hall of Fame and his struggles with diabetes. Great stuff, written and directed by his son, Jeff Santo.

Grab one of these that sounds up your alley, ’cause it’s almost time to…play ball!

Weird Al’s still got it, with this clever palindromic Dylan music video parody.

Blog nod: The House Next Door, where one can also find sharp analyses of HBO TV and movies.

Here’s that Willie Wonka poster I promised last week, my first for the St. Cloud’s Children’s Theater from a few years back when they presented Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. This piece was used as an 11 x 17 promotional poster, as well as for a smaller promo card, and in the programs for the entire theater season.

The challenge for me was to use a different style, find my own slant for Wonka, as the character is so well known. Though the main character is front and center, I wanted to frame him and focus on that moment when Charlie opens the golden ticket, putting the viewer in his shoes. That sense of excitement and anticipation is what I remember most from the Roald Dahl book, and either movie (of which I prefer the former; Depp’s take is just to creepy, in a Michael Jackson kinda way).

He may be a weird-looking dude, and he may not fit easily into a single musical genre, but make no mistake: Lyle Lovett is one of the finest American songwriters and singers ever to come down the pike. Never mind he first arrived on the scene and has his roots in country, Lyle is a complete American original; with an unmistakable singing and songwriting voice, he handles a range of musical styles with wit, panache and insight.

His most complete and cohesive album is the superb Joshua Judges Ruth. Covering blues, country, gospel and folk, he knows how to tell a story, drawing in and setting up the listener for a poignant twist or a wry punch line, as he does in Since The Last Time and Church, respectively. Other albums are strong, and some are patchy collections, but over twenty years he’s built an impressive catalog of songs.

I recall vividly hearing him for the first time, when my buddy, Tom (Thanks, Tom!) introduced Lovett’s music to me, playing She’s Hot To Go. I was hooked immediately. It was apparent at once here was a new and unique voice, someone who could swing, jab with sharp or subtle humor, give and take, all presented with a smooth and sly vocal style.

When dealing with the subject of male/female relationships, he approaches it from many angles. He can be sarcastic or nasty: as in She’s Hot To Go or Her First Mistake, both playful and self deprecating pick-up songs; She’s No Lady, a facetious stab at marriage; and My Baby Don’t Tolerate, where he bristles at the controlling mate. Or, he can be wistful with a break-up song, like She’s Already Made Up Her Mind and All My Love Is Gone. But all this is balanced with sweet, tender love songs as in the straight, simple and beautiful Flyswatter/Ice Water Blues and especially Nobody Knows Me, or fun, bouncy feel-good love tunes like Cute as a Bug and She Makes Me Feel Good.

His second best album, Lyle Lovett and his Large Band is split in two sections (one side each on the original LP): Big Band and Country. The country side features some of his best songs, some mentioned above, as well as a gender-flipping cover, Stand By Your Man. There’s nary a clunker on the bluesy Big Band portion of the album, with additional stand-outs Here I Am, What Do You Do/The Glory Of Love and Good Intentions.

Sure, I don’t love it when he gets all twangy, but then just don’t play those tracks as much. But sometimes when working in the country song form, he gives things a twist, with titles like I Married Her Just Because She Looks Like You, She’s Leaving Me Because She Really Wants To, and the post-divorce ditty, where the narrator says, “You can have my girl, but…Don’t Touch My Hat.” And lesser efforts like I Love Everybody and Step Inside This House (a double album of covers of lesser known fellow songwriters) still have their worthwhile tracks, like Bears from the latter, and from the former: Penguins; Creeps Like Me; Skinny Legs; and Old Friend.

Through all the up-tempo songs, the sly humor, he’ll occasionally cut to the quick with devastating studies on family and loss. In Family Reserve, he relates the stories of the unexpected deaths of friends and family. The ghosts of those departed join him in the final chorus, “Were all gonna be here forever/So mama don’t you make such a stir/Just put down that camera/And come on and join up/The last of the family reserve.” And in Since The Last Time, which begins with the line, “I went to a funeral/Lord, it made me happy….” Starting off as tentative blues/folk, it explodes in a gospel celebration, defiantly spitting in the face of death, before plaintively revealing the surprising narrator. With these two brilliant tunes, both from the superb Joshua Judges Ruth, he’ll set you up, knock you down, then pop you right back up again.

His latest release, It’s Not Big It’s Large shows Lyle’s still got it, with a handful of gems, some of which are already among my favorite all-time Lovett songs. Make It Happy is a jaunty happy-go-lucky tune, seemingly merging three or four musical genres in one song, an irresistible concoction. A classic country ditty, Up In Indiana features great harmonies, solos and a touch of bluegrass. All Downhill is a bouncy Texas shuffle, wherein Lyle wonders how soon his luck will run out. Given the high quality of his overall output and latest material, I’d say not any time soon.

This has been linked to from a handful of blogs I read, but I couldn’t resist linking, too. This stunning video of many beautiful actresses faces morphing from one to another will whet your appetite for the Oscars tonight, and perhaps make you long for another time.

Before watching, can you guess who are the two women that form the amalgam above?

Update: Blog nod to Ann Althouse filling in at Instapundit.