On Thursday night, I went to see a symphony.
Why? Well, dickheads, it’s because I’m a classy motherfucker.
You may remember that, a few months ago, I went to a country music show. I went into that with an open mind but left disliking country music just as much as I always had.
I entered the symphony experience with the same attitude. The results were different, though. Turns out, watching a symphony is a perfectly fine way to spend an evening.
Here are some observations from an evening of class and refinement:
-It was as much a visual experience as it was an aural one. The two bass players moved in exact synchronicity. During periods when he was not playing, the trumpet player sat there like a schlub, reclining in his chair with his legs wide open. There was one violin player in the back who looked exactly like Lawrence from School of Rock. He was on the edge of his seat the entire time, but didn’t actually play all that often.
-There was a group of percussionists who stood at the back of the stage and looked like they just had a box of toys and noisemakers that they were pulling out at random times and playing. And it totally worked. Kazoos, slide whistles, rattles, spinny noisemakers. Plus they were playing drums and symbols and triangles. The percussionists were my favorite part.
-This was not Mozart or Beethoven. To me, this sounded like the type of music they use to score movies. So, one of the things I tried to do was to imagine what kind of movie scene would best match the music I was hearing. Some of it made me think of a western, some seemed like the background noise of a desert scene in Star Wars.
-There are a lot of sounds. Part of the fun is hearing a sound and then looking at the individual musicians in order to pinpoint where each sound is coming from.
-The best part of the whole night: The entire performance was less than two hours, including intermission. It started at 7:30. We were out the door at 9:23. In and out and on with your life. What could be bad?
So, the symphony…It’s not a rock show but its not horrible either. They should put that up on the marquee.
Phil Taylor writes about Grant Hill and Jason Kidd, who were co-rookies of the year in 1995 and then announced their retirements one day apart last week. But, as far as I can tell, the two players never had anything to do with each other in between those two events. I think Taylor is forcing a personal and professional connection between Hill and Kidd when none exists. There are people who started in my industry the same year I did. I feel absolutely no kinship with any of them. Why do basketball players have to be different?
Symphony For A Foghorn by Steve Rushin
Hey, what a coincidence! Steve Rushin decided to reference the symphony as well. I didn’t read this article. My Sports Illustrated came late this week and I was busy, so I picked and chose the articles I wanted to read. Steve Rushin forcing puns about hockey down my throat was not one of them.
This Photo Is Just One Good Reason You Need To Know The Story of Evan Gattis By Joe Lemire
I figured it made sense to share the photo that is referenced in the title. I think a lot of baseball fans already knew the basics about Evan Gattis before reading this article. He was all the rage in Spring Training. We learn a bit more about Gattis’s lost years, but don’t break any new ground. What’s the plan for Evan Gattis long term? Is Brian McCann going to be forced out in Atlanta. These are questions I would have liked to read answers to.
Go For It On Fourth And Multiply by Stewart Mandel and Andy Staples
Don’t care. Skipped it.
Three For All by Chris Ballard
This is a great article by a great NBA writer. Are the Spurs under appreciated? I don’t know. I think Tim Duncan may be the most universally respected professional athlete in the US. That being said, I haven’t watched a Spurs game that didn’t also involve the Knicks since at least 2002. I know they play flawless fundamental basketball. But that’s boring.
The Best Finals Ever by Jack MacCallum
Oh wow. An oral history! What a unique and creative idea. It’s a shame too, because Jack MaCallum is wasted. You have a great writer tackling a great subject. Why aren’t you using any of his own words.
Point After by Phil Taylor
Fuck it, I’m going to say what we’re all thinking. Its a little funny that this guy made a grand plan to dribble a soccer ball from Seattle to Brazil, but only made it to Oregon before he was killed.