About The Author: Follow along as the author searches for the funniest word in the English language. Be there when he is offered a job by Chicago Syndicate Boss Sam Giancana. Discover his plan for getting Pete Rose into the Hall of Fame. Read about his joke writing experiences involving Bob Hope, about why he loves golf but never plays, and about how he came within minutes of joining the Army Secret Service. Written with a sense of mischief and fun these 28 essays are usually humorous, sometimes bizarre, invariably informative, and always entertaining. Personal experiences are a springboard for discussions on a wide variety of topics including gambling, violence, sports, UFOs, intelligent crows, and the meaning (?) of life. In 2002, Mengeling's book on Ray Bradbury, Red Planet, Flaming Phoenix, Green Town, was published by AuthorHouse.Now happily retired from university teaching, publishing, and administrating, Marvin E. Mengeling lives and writes for fun in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, with wife Frankie (the poet), son Tom (the photographer), and Katrina (the cat). Daughter Brenda Jo and husband Michael are medical researchers at the University of California Davis. And so it goes.
Crows, Pete Rose, UFOs
and Other Pretty PiecesBy Marvin E. MengelingAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Marvin E. Mengeling
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4567-6095-3Contents
1. Preface.........................................................................................................xi2. What's In a Name?...............................................................................................13. Pete Rose and the Hall: Let's Make a Deal!......................................................................64. WHEEEEEEE!......................................................................................................125. O That Reptilian Brain!.........................................................................................176. Send Not to Know................................................................................................257. Lucky Loser? You Bet!...........................................................................................288. Gleason, Bacaud, and the Funny Dancer...........................................................................349. Upgetum.........................................................................................................4010. Katzenjammer Capers............................................................................................4811. Mr. Know-It-All................................................................................................5512. A Scientific Investigation Into a Linguistic Matter of Some Importance.........................................7013. O Brave New NBA World!.........................................................................................7514. Basketball in Eden.............................................................................................8215. Don't Be A Fool!...............................................................................................8516. Don't Be a Fool—Again!...................................................................................9417. Strange You Should Ask That....................................................................................10418. The Strange Affair of the Missing Hyphen or Who Put the Ugly Gnomes in Mr. Irving's Story?.....................11019. Just Say No?...................................................................................................12620. The Hooters Have It or Knock! Knock! Hooter's There?...........................................................13121. No, I Won't Take a Number Please!..............................................................................13622. Yankee Doodle Dandy............................................................................................14023. Twangs A Lot!..................................................................................................14824. Who Wants To Be Buddy Sorrell?.................................................................................15725. Size Matters...................................................................................................16726. Golf: A Subtle Helix...........................................................................................17427. The Crapshoot?.................................................................................................18728. Caws & Effects.................................................................................................198
Chapter One
What's In a Name?
Once upon a time when I was a callow and know-it-all young fellow, I worked in a toy factory warehouse with another young man—let's call him Tony—who was invariably cheery and friendly but seemed far from being the brightest elf in our little Santaland. Tony was likeable enough in most ways, so it was only behind his back that the rest of us referred to him, somewhat derisively, as our town's "Great Philosopher," this because (with what Nathaniel Hawthorne once described in a short story as the smile of a "crafty nincompoop") Tony would reply to virtually all questions requiring any degree of thought or reflection: "It kind of makes you wonder, don't it." He always declared this; he never intoned it as a question.
Now an old man, Tony is still living in that little town and despite cancer of the prostrate problems is still smiling and boosting the same philosophy. Unlike the "Great Philosopher," I moved from both warehouse and town, only to find the cocky surety of my youth peeling away as my experiences in the wider world increased. Not only didn't I know everything, I came to realize I knew extremely little with any certainty, and today feel that perhaps Tony's ambiguous response to most questions is probably the most accurate one, if only we'd admit it. The more I heard, read, saw and experienced, the more I figuratively scratched my head and came to realize that in Tony I had unknowingly been dealing with some sort of wise fool. Indeed, the more I have wandered the more I have wondered.
Right now, for example, I wonder why Tennessee's professional football team is called the "Titans." I realize that many high school and college teams have this same tired moniker. The teams at my local university are "Titans" all. But I wonder why any school or organization would consciously choose (after, one assumes, some sort of fan/student voting and executive deliberations on alternate possibilities) a name for their team that is historically associated with "losers."
A few years ago the new Baltimore franchise (formerly the Cleveland Browns, named after their first coach, football genius Paul Brown) was renamed the "Ravens," ostensibly in honor of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven," arguably the most famous poem ever written by an American. Granted, Poe lived in Baltimore off and on and died there in 1849 under mysterious circumstances, but really, a professional football team named after a poem? It all becomes more appropriate, though, if we know that Poe's raven is an omen of defeat for the poem's narrator, and that, as ornithologist Bernd Heinrich points out in his book Mind of the Raven, these somewhat ominous looking birds are extremely intelligent and often use expert teamwork to win out in the competition for food over seemingly more powerful predators like eagles, hawks and wolves. Intelligence, productive teamwork, and an omen of defeat for those who meet them—yes indeed, "Ravens" is a good and proper name for a football team. And, to paraphrase Poe, your opponent from out that raven's shadow that lies floating on the field, shall be lifted Nevermore.
But "Titans"? The "intelligences" that made the final decision on this name were either unaware or just didn't care that in Greek mythology (do they teach such stuff in Tennessee schools?) the most powerful of that bunch of immortal giants called Titans was Cronus, who "incested" with sister Rhea, who then birthed the Olympians (Zeus and his bunch), but not before Cronus had first castrated and exiled his own father Uranus. Then, afraid his own offspring would rise up and overthrow him, Cronus swallowed them whole right after each was born, until Rhea got tired of producing kids who ended up groceries. After the birth of Zeus, she gave Cronus a stone and told him it was the new baby. Apparently not having the intelligence even of a raven, Cronus swallowed both story and stone, thus giving son Zeus a chance to live and bulk up a bit. To make a long myth short, Zeus and his brothers and sisters (we'll skip the part about how and why Cronus spit them up) challenged the Titans to a fight. Apparently there was no guarantee of a return bout in the contract, so after the Olympians won they imprisoned the Titans in a hellish place beneath the earth called Tartarus. Could any of this possibly explain why my local university football team—"Hail Titans" is their fight song—has been mired in the bottom half of the conference standings for most of the past thirty years, and why the men's basketball team has won just one conference title—shared, actually, with another university—in nearly as long?
So there we have it, like it or not. The Titans lost the only fight they ever had. Their leader was a father-castrating, child- devouring, mentally challenged giant best described as a sorry "loser." Eventually, of course, "titan" with a small "t" came to signify a person of large size, strength and/or achievement, as in "She is a titan of industry." One problem with "Titan" as the name for a professional football team is that the qualities of size (most lines now averaging well over 300 pounds per bulky player), strength and achievement (many pro players were college All-Americans) is that it could describe the players on any professional team. Nothing distinctive. No edge. The greater problem with the name, though, is that with a capital "T" the moniker "Titan" describes a "LOSER" in giant letters. We won't even go into the adjective "titanic," associated in the minds of most people with the biggest sunken ship disaster in history. Did those who chose really know? And if they did know, why didn't they care? Perhaps they were merely enchanted by the pretty tip-of-the-tongue alliteration of the "t" sound? If so, Tennessee Tornadoes might have been a better choice.
And as long as we're wandering down this road, but without getting into the drugstore associations of the name, what would possess anyone to name a team the "Trojans"? We're talking more than Southern Cal here; there are high school and college Trojan teams all over America. Tony and I wonder why. Granted, the Trojans held the Greeks to a scoreless tie for ten years or so, which suggests a formidable defense but doesn't change the "fact" that they finally lost the war and that their best Dick Butkus-type warrior, Hector, turned tail and ran when faced with Achilles, the Greek version of Jim Brown. Eventually forced to fight, Hector went down quickly. Further humiliation ensued when Achilles, off the back of his chariot, dragged Hector's corpse by the heels for a few victory laps around Troy's walls. Even then, the Trojans might have saved the day but, like Cronus, proved too mentally challenged to do so. Wily coach Odysseus concocted a razzle-dazzle hollow wooden horse play that completely faked out the Trojans and brought the first Testosterone Bowl to an unmerciful end: Greeks 7, Trojans zip. The post game celebration included pillaging, plundering, burning, and raping—not unlike many post championship celebrations today. Of course, Southern California's football team seems to be the exception that proves the rule. Still, the question remains: why was the name picked in the first place?
What's in a name, Shakespeare once asked. Well, maybe nothing. On the other hand, maybe something. So why take the chance? Change the name! Other sports teams have done it. Before they started working on the title "Baseball Team of the Century" the New York Yankees were the New York Highlanders. Did the name change help them become a better team (the acquisition of Babe Ruth probably had something to do with it too)? Who knows? But, as I said before, why take the chance? All you "Titans" and "Trojans" out there, think about it. And because I so much want to help, here's a special suggestion for the Tennessee Titans. Why not change to a name from a more contemporary mythology, a name that stands for ultimate teamwork leading to victory. I humbly submit the "Tennessee Borg." "Prepare to be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
Pete Rose and the Hall: Let's Make a Deal!
In Romeo and Juliet Shakespeare has the line, "That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet." If Shakespeare were alive today he might be tempted to add, "Unless the other name is Pete!" A few years ago Pete Rose was the "Interview" in the April 2000 issue of Playboy magazine, in which he continues his tiresome litany about how rudely he's been treated by the professional baseball establishment and its refusal to "reinstate" him so he can gain his rightful place in the Baseball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, New York. Yeah, yeah, this is whiney old stuff and I don't intend to pursue here whether or not Rose actually bet on baseball (though I'd bet significant dough that he did) or whether baseball Commissioners have been screwing him over, from Bart Giamatti (who Rose thinks threw him out of baseball because Giamatti was a jealous, power-mad type who couldn't cope with Rose's fame) to Bud Selig, former new and used car salesman.
It seems appropriate that Rose has done some of his spleen venting in a publication with "boy" in the title because Rose appears to be one of those individuals who never developed much emotional maturity or mature intelligence; in other words, he never really grew up. Remember those kids in grade and high school who were always doing bad things but would never admit it or accept responsibility, even when caught red-handed? It was always somebody else's fault? Somebody (the teacher, the principal, etc.) had it in for them, or was out to get them? Or the rules didn't apply to them; the rules were only for losers and nerds? Rose still seems to be one of those kids.
Gertrude Stein once said, "Rose is a rose is a rose." Whatever that meant to her, to me it means that Pete Rose will never change. It's still mainly games, gambling and babes with him; always has been, always will be. Peck's bad baseball boy will go to his grave believing himself the picked-on, blameless martyr, and in his own immature, narcissistic mind one of the very greatest players in the history of the game. After all, hasn't Rose said that his name is "synonymous" with baseball? That's Pete's opinion, of course, and he has every right to it. But I think he crosses into foul territory in the Playboy interview when he grumbles, "How could I not be in the top 50 of ESPN's `Greatest Athletes of the Century?'" and then grouses about Olympic swimmer Mark Spitz, who came in #33 on the ESPN list: "That guy worked two weeks. I worked 24 years." Gee, what a classy guy Rose is. I'll bet he thinks ministers have cushy jobs because they only "work" one hour a week. Let's just remind ourselves that in two Summer Olympics Mark Spitz won nine gold medals. Carl Lewis (#12 on the ESPN list) won nine gold medals too, but it took him more than two Olympics to do it. No one, anywhere ever, had won seven gold medals in one Olympics—except Mark Spitz.
Actually, ESPN named ten baseball players to its list of top 50 athletes of the century: Babe Ruth (#2), Willie Mays (#5), Hank Aaron (#14), Jackie Robinson (#15), Ted Williams (#16), Ty Cobb (#20), Joe Dimaggio (#22), Lou Gehrig (#34), Mickey Mantle (#37), and Sandy Koufax (#42). That ESPN anointed Koufax the greatest pitcher of the century needs addressing, but not here and now. Rose at least had enough smarts not to claim he is more worthy than any of these ten players, so he picks on a white swimmer. Say what you will about Pete, he's got guts.
But make no mistake, "Charlie Hustle" is indeed a consummate hustler. He actually has duped a large number of folks into believing he belongs on such a list. Recall the public vote a few years ago for all-star team of the century? Rose received more votes than Willie Mays for a position in the outfield. So just how good was Rose, really? Well, to borrow a line from Casey Stengel, "You can look it up!" So yes indeed, let's look it up! Please realize, though, that I don't mean looking up popularity numbers like how many times Rose graced the cover of Sports Illustrated or The Sporting News, or how many dollars worth of Rose bobble heads or autographed pieces of "memorabilia" he has hustled at card shows. I had other numbers in mind when I pulled off the shelf my copy of Total Baseball, edited by J. Thorn and P. Palmer, and flipped to the section titled "All-Time Leaders." Here's what I found.
Pete Rose was one hell of a good baseball player. Over 24 seasons (same number as Ty Cobb) he set major league records for games played (3,562), at bats (14,053), and hits (4,256). Let's ignore for the moment that Rose played in 528 more games and had 2,619 more at bats to get 66 more career hits than Ty Cobb. For many years there was a "Ford Fricking" asterisk after Roger Maris's 61 homers to indicate Maris had eight more games than Babe Ruth to break Ruth's record of 60 homers in a season. If anyone ever needed an asterisk it's Rose (2,619 more at bats to get 66 more hits?). But let's not quibble; like a tattoo in bad taste, the Maris asterisk was eventually removed. Rose also scored 2,165 runs, putting him fourth all-time, but when we look at the column listing "runs per game" production, Rose doesn't appear among the top 100 players. Gee, must have been an oversight. I wonder where Rose ranks on the "Clutch Hitting Index." Hmmmmmmmm. He's not in the top 100 on this list either.
What? Not in the top 100 for lifetime batting average? Oh, that's right, lifetime Pete was .303. Gee, even a swing-for-the-fences guy like Babe Ruth had a .342 lifetime average. It even looks here as if Rose had only one season in which he averaged higher than Ruth's lifetime .342. The fact of the matter is that Rose was pretty much a one trick pony, a singles pinger. He hit loads of singles; 3,215 of his 4,256 hits were the ninety-foot variety. True, only Tris Speaker hit more doubles (793) than Rose (746), but then Speaker had 3,846 fewer at bats. Pete did hit 160 home runs, an average of about 6.5 per season. As for triples, "Charlie Hustle" seldom hustled as far as third; even beer-belly Babe had more. Let's face it, over his last few seasons EGO kept him grinding and plodding along for the greater ultimate glory of Rose, who is at the top of the hit list largely because he hung around, and hung around, and hung on, and hung on long after his remarkable baseball skills began to fail him. For example, over his last five seasons his batting average was a composite .257. By way of comparison, over the last five years of his 24 seasons Cobb averaged .347.
Finally, let's look at the "Total Player Ratings List" in Total Baseball, a ranking composed of various and weighted batting, base running and fielding statistics. With no pitchers included, the top ten ranked players are: l) Babe Ruth, 2) Cobb, 3) Aaron, 4) Williams, 5) Mays, 6) Lajoie, 7) Speaker, 8) Schmidt, 9) Hornsby, and 10) Wagner. Joe Morgan and Johnny Bench, both teammates of Rose on Cincinnati's "Big Red Machine," are ranked 15th and 76th. Rose comes in at number 120. With pitchers added to the list, Rose drops to number 176. Perhaps more surprising is that he wasn't good enough overall to crack the list of top 25 baseball players of the era 1961-1988, even though the editors call him the "most exciting player of his age." Ah yes, there are all those semi-mystical and crowd-pleasing "intangibles," like running full speed to first on a walk, that can't be measured by mere numbers. Certainly there are more than enough Rose "intangibles" to warrant his replacing Mark Spitz and his 9 Olympic gold medals on ESPN's list of 50 greatest athletes of the century. Aren't there?
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Crows, Pete Rose, UFOsby Marvin E. Mengeling Copyright © 2011 by Marvin E. Mengeling. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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