Super Bowl XLIV ( I had to look that up)

I am glad the Saints won, although I admire Peyton Manning as one of the greatest Quarterbacks ever (he’s got a way to go to beat Joe Montana, and by the way his brother Eli is a putz), that said Drew Breez totally dominated the game after the first quarter showing himself to have grace under pressure and what’s that word…

Heart.

Miles and Miles of Heart.  Hell the whole team had it.  Double dog the whole city of New Orleans has it.

They deserved this one, and while I watched the Super Bowl with some disaffection that the Chargers weren’t in it – as they should’ve been, I was happy that the Saints pulled it off.

Now for the Who.

Were they lip-synching?   I noticed one very short sequence where Roger Daltry seemed to miss the lyrics.  I don’t know, what do you think?

I’ve seen the Who four times – the first time at the Inglewood Forum (where the Lakers used to play) was the first concert I ever attended.  My Mom dropped me and Carlo Bordenave off and picked us up promptly when the concert was over.

We were fifteen I think.

But the best was sitting 4^th row center stage for the Quadrophenia tour again at the Forum.  Keith Moon and John Entwistle were still alive.  Roger Daltry’s long curly locks.  And Pete Townsend…

Man.

And boy was it LOUD.  I had tinnitus for a week.

I took pictures during the concert and I still have (somewhere) an 8 x 10 of Daltry twirling the mike and Townsend airborne.  It’s a great picture.

So you can see that the half time show was somewhat of a disappointment for me.  It’s not just that they’re approaching seventy years old and singing “Teenage Wasteland”; it is as I was telling La after the program, that the Who were Kings of Anthem Rock and Anthems don’t lend themselves to medleys.  One finds oneself beginning to get caught up in the spirit of the anthem, then it shifts to the next.  It doesn’t work that way.  It’s as if Lynard Skynard began with Freebird and then shifted to Sweet Home Alabama before the really kick ass part of Freebird.

You know what I’m talkin’ about here.

The commercials – meh.  The game was better than the commercials for a change.

Some news.

So I haven’t told you I’m going to be a Grandpa.  Technically speaking I’m already a Grandpa to a lovely teenage son, who shows every sign of being a lovely man.  Actually, he’s showing a lot of signs of being a typical teenager, but that’s another story.  I love him and am proud of him and his accomplishments.  He’s quite the track star.

But this is different.  My daughters’ going to have a baby and the symmetry of life comes full circle.

We’ve known for awhile now, but just this last weekend we learned that our grandchild will be a boy.

My life has been filled with girls.

It will be refreshing to mentor a boy for a change; although I’m not quite sure how to do it.

But is there really much difference in teaching a girl to be a woman and teaching a boy to be a man?  I suppose there is, in that one must make the distinction of biology, but to teach a human being to be a human being is universal is it not?

Anyway, I take too much on.  That part is up to his parents and I’m positive that they will prove up to the task.

My job is to teach him how to play baseball.  And I’m not just talkin’ about playin’ catch.  I’m talkin’ about the psychology of baseball, the existentialism of baseball, the game ain’t over until it’s over baseball….

The life of baseball.

That’s my job.

Can’t wait.