CALL ME SNAKE

As Groucho Marx once said, “I really must be leaving.” Or did he say, “I really must be going”? Either way, I’m leaving, or going, for a brief while. Not exactly “fishin’,” as the title suggests, but I am headed to a place Down South–Nashville, Tennessee to be exact– where people (or “folk,” as they call it) have trouble pronouncin’ the g’s at the end of words. The problem is so severe, in fact, that they’ve takin’ to avoidin’ the terminal “g” altogether. Hence the fishin’–not to be confused with fission, which occurs elsewhere in the state of Tennessee, at a place called Oak Ridge. But we’re not goin’ there.

I can already hear the questions. Why Nashville? And why now? On the middle of the Final Four weekend, and with the Celtics season still in progress? I can only say that my younger, smarter, and more successful cousin picked this weekend to get married. I didn’t get to pick the weekend, nor did I get to pick my cousin. But if I had to do it all over again, I still would have picked the same cousin because, for one thing, he’s a talented athlete, vying at the highest levels of international competition. That’s right. You guessed it: He’s a “rock, paper, scissors” expert who’s gone head-to-head with some of the world’s other elite athletes. (We’ve even talked about that in these pages. If you can’t recall, let me give you a helpful hint: It’s called “Archives.”)

I’m not sure how much time I’ll actually get to spend with my illustrious cousin, as he is getting married. But I hope that just by hanging around, some of his athleticism may rub off on me. In any case, rest assured that I’ll share anything I learn about “rock, paper, and scissors,” as well as about life in general, with my readers, who are generally supportive, but sometimes come off as a community of nitpickers. More on that in my next missive. And speaking of missives, I’ve got a plane to miss.

My two-year old fell asleep at 4:30 p.m., which may seem irrelevant in a report on tonight’s Celtics game, but unfortunately it is all too germane. That nap meant she stayed up way past her normal bedtime, as her daddy invented story after story about the continuing adventures (endlessly so) of Cindy the rabbit and Giselle the donkey. When he/I finally got her into bed and checked the TV listings, it was too late. Doc Rivers was already delivering his grim press conference, during which I learned very little, except that the team’s offense was horrible and defense even worse. From those two facts, plus Doc’s unmistakably negative affect, I was forced to conclude that the team dropped its fourth straight game–losing this time to an opponent whose identity was not revealed during the portion of the press conference I witnessed.

Still, I fear the heady days of the great winning streak, which coincided with my personal “wrong streak,” are now over. That euphoric, Walker-induced burst has been supplanted with a colder, harsher reality. Maybe I’m still wrong (we can only hope!), but I fear that I’m right. If so, all those doubts I’ve tried to suppress during these past few giddy weeks are now rising up like a giant wave–a tsunami is the word that comes to mind, though it may be too charged to use here–ready to crush our hopes like so much flotsam and jetsam. (I’m not sure if that simile works, but I think you still get the drift.) There’s no dancing around it: My record-breaking wrong streak is finished. I was right after all. As a result, the pawns of this cat-and-mouse game (another mixed metaphor?), the Boston Celtics, are now in a tailspin, with no end in sight.

Johnnie Cochran died yesterday in Los Angeles at the age of 67. I never met Mr. Cochran but Alan Dershowitz, who is often seen in these parts, had some nice things to say about him, and I have no reason to doubt the “Dersh” on this score. By all accounts, Cochran was a masterful attorney whose exploits have been extensively chronicled elsewhere. Like most bloggers who contribute little, if anything, in the way of new information, I have nothing to add to that story. My only complaint–and maybe it’s not a “complaint,” more like a gripe or perhaps just an observation–is that the Boston Globe, my hometown paper, put his obit. on page B8. B8 for a world-famous litigator who was parodied on “Saturday Night Live” and “Seinfeld”? B8 for a guy who immortalized the phrase: “If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit”? What does that say for an average schmoe like me? Not that I’m planning to die anytime soon (who is, when you get right down to it?), yet I always held out the distant hope of cracking the front page. But if a guy like Cochran gets B8, I’ll be lucky to pull a G37, sitting in the back of the “Automotive” section between adds for Muzi Chevrolet and Herb Chambers Toyota. That’s enough to keep anyone going for awhile, which means I better stop blogging and start getting some exercise.

The team–or, rather, “our team”–will play tonight. I have this on the highest authority and encourage you to bet as much as you can possibly afford, and more if at all possible, on the fact that they will, in all likelihood (barring unforeseen disasters, power outtages, or labor strikes) play. However, the identity of their opponent, as well as the time and place of the game, are still being kept secret. News is trickling in from various contacts in the field (along with some leaks regarding purchase orders for Red Auerbach’s cigars), and further updates will follow on this and other late-breaking stories. We realize you have a choice in your Official and Unofficial Boston Celtics Updates and thank you for choosing this blog. Our hope is to reward that trust with the best, most authoritative, and yes even DEFINITIVE information that can be legally obtained, without resorting to blackmail, extortion, and physical or emotional intimidation. (Please don’t “lawyer up” on me just when we’re getting along so well.) All of us here at “Call Me Snake” are dependent on your support, as well as on funding from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation. “Genius grants” will be accepted (during business hours only, PLEASE!) and passed on immediately to their rightful recipient: the honorable Danny Ainge.

An astute reader “called in,” so to speak, to let me know of an error that occurred in my March 28 entry, “THIS I BELIEVE.” I had originally written the following: “After sifting the the various arguments raised…” This reader, with her eagle-sharp eyes, as well as keen mental acuity, informed me of the “double-article” construction, which is frowned upon in the Queen’s English. I quickly corrected the offending passage so that it now reads: “After sifting through the various arguments raised…” I apologize for any emotional distress unwittingly caused by this error, especially in view of the delicate subject matter.

Meanwhile, another astute reader–even more astute than the first reader, who is already quite astute, if not very astute, and I mean “quite” in the American (i.e., heightening) sense, rather than in the British (i.e., diminishing) sense–pointed out that what has evolved here is truly quite remarkable: “an online spellchecking (sic) community.” I am grateful for all the help I have received in this regard, particularly since my “spellchecking” (sic) software seems to be disabled in blog.com. What’s more, I agree with almost everything this well-meaning individual said. Nevertheless, I do take issue with one aspect of his statement: “spellchecking,” at least to my way of thinking, ought to be hyphenated.

Who said that college kids these days don’t give a damn? At Harvard University, they’re taking it to the streets. While in my day, student protestors were wont to say, “Off the pig,” undergraduates at Harvard have a new rallying cry, “Off the shelf,” in response to the injustice of having some of their favorite cereals removed from the cafeteria buffet. There’s even a new activist organization (a PAC, essentially) with the pithy name “Harvard Students for the Reimplementation of Brand-Named Cereals.” At a lesser institution, the students might not have been comfortable with the six-syllable “reimplementation,” going with the two-syllable “return” instead. What has the HSRBNC up in arms? The removal of Lucky Charms for one thing, along with Fruit Loops and Cap’n Crunch. No wonder they’re up in arms. For their whole lives they’ve had it drummed into their heads that “breakfast is the most important meal of the day”–just as “tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.” If breakfast is as important as we’ve heard it is, setting us in good stead to face the first day of the rest of our lives, who can blame ‘em?

For obvious reasons, I have been reluctant to wade into the murky waters of the Terri Schiavo case. But lately there has been much debate over what Terri, herself, would really want, which in the end is what it all comes down to. After sifting through the various arguments raised, it’s clear to me that there really is just one person–one man, in fact–in a position to know Terri’s true state of mind and convictions regarding this extraordinarily complex and sensitive matter. That man is Tom DeLay.

The Celtics schedule is–and has been for decades–one of the best-kept secrets in Boston (along with where Arnold “Red” Auerbach procures his trademark cigars). Relying on a well-established network of informants, I have now determined that, in all likelihood, the team is off until Wednesday of this week, at which time it will resume league play against an opponent to be named. If several days have elapsed and you have not seen my official, play-by-play coverage of the Men (Boys?) in Green’s latest contest, it is probably due to the fact that they have not yet played. Continuous updates will be posted here as more information comes in.

(DATELINE Cambridge) A car plowed into a motel in Colorado Springs yesterday, injuring none and killing none. The establishment at the base of Pikes Peak, formerly called “Motel 6,” has since been renamed “Motel 7.” After complaints from customers, the motel has implemented a two-tier pricing system, with deep discounts offered to people staying in the drive-thru rooms. Other motels will soon follow suit in the fiercely-competitive lodging trade. (From Wire services and “various sources.”)

For weeks, I’ve been using the word “genius” to describe Danny Ainge’s decision to acquire, or perhaps we should say “reacquire,” Antoine Walker. Once again, the Boston Globe has followed my lead. First their columnist Peter May came around to my point of view a week or so. Then Celts beat reporter Shira Springer wrote in yesterday’s (March 27, 2005) edition of the paper: “… the Walker deal looks like something approximating a STROKE OF GENIUS (EMPHASIS ADDED) by executive director of player operations (I’ve been calling him “GM,” which is close enough in my book and a heck of a lot shorter) Danny Ainge.” So you see, I’m not making this stuff up. Even the Globe backs me up–a paper that has unlimited resources to ensure the accuracy of its every single word. To the Doubting Thomases who never give me a moment’s pause, I point out that what I’ve been telling you is indeed “true,” as the so-called “tag” below indicates. That’s not to say we’re taking any of our readers for granted here at “Call Me Snake.” We realize you have a choice when it comes to your Boston Celtics/Antoine Walker/Danny Ainge/Snake’s “wrong streak” news, and we thank you for putting this blog first.

We had people over for dinner tonight, including five young children, so you can imagine the mess left in their wake. When I finished the massive cleanup effort, I checked the TV listings and realized I’d just missed the Celtics-Pistons game. I contacted my usual sources to find out what happened, and nobody was talking. There seems to be a news embargo in this town. Or if not an embargo, at least some sort of blackout. Either way, I can’t tell you who won, or how Walker fared, or whether Ainge was right, and May was right, and I was wrong. Last night’s game is still shrouded in mystery and the same can be said about tonight’s contest as well. Stay tuned to this website for future installments of the “Official Boston Celtics Post-Game Wrap-Up.” And remember, you heard it here first.

The Celts and troublesome Bulls met tonight (last night?) at what is still officially called the Fleet Center, though not for long. Here is a full, unedited account of the game–or at least the few minutes I saw. When I tuned in, after helping my wife get our little ones ready for bed and then tackling a daunting array of dirty dishes, just a few minutes remained in the second quarter. When the buzzer sounded, the Celts were ahead by a few points, perhaps as many as five, though it might have been just a couple. Antoine Walker played marvelously during this interval, scoring at will from the post, and fully deserving of my mention (since recanted, which I now regret) of Peter May’s mention of a potential MVP bid. I planned on watching the second half, so that my comprehensive report would have been more complete, but my wife came downstairs, intent on watching the Bridget Jones sequel, recently out on video. The movie was uneven–like a basketball game in which the Celtics put in a weak third quarter–but I’ll save the rest of my comments for the review you’ll undoubtedly see here soon. “The Edge of Reason” ran about an hour and 48 minutes, and by the time Bridget ended up with Mark Darcy for the second (or was it the third?) time, the basketball game was long finished. I don’t know whether the Celts won or lost, or whether my record-breaking “wrong” streak persists. The way things now look–test patterns on sports channel FSNE–we may never know.

We were innocent once. And young. And giddy. We spoke of the Celtics as a “legitimate Number 3 team in the East” and of Antoine Walker as a legitimate MVP candidate. We spoke of the 7-game winning streak and of my recording-shattering, 11-day “wrong” streak. Now, after the Celtics lost by 25 points to the middling Knicks–and Walker shot 5 of 20 from the field (a performance that used to be called “Walkeresque” by cynical Globe columnists)–it seems that talk was premature. I’m still “wrong,” as I have been for 12 consecutive days, but in a different way than before: I should not have been swept up by Peter May’s enthusiasm and mentioned that MVP thing, which was a mistake on my part–a trap at a minimum, perhaps even a jinx, and possibly a hex. I should not have let my irrepressibly optimistic nature (I always try to see the best in people, rather than their hideous warts, unsightly boils, overpowering stench, or stomach-wrenching halitosis) get the better of me. A few days ago–although now it seems like years ago–in a heralded piece called “Daily Affirmation” (March 20, 2005), I proclaimed that “all doubts have now been vanquished.” That was then. But now I find those old doubts, despite my valliant efforts to suppress them, rising once again to the fore.

I have been wrong about Antoine Walker for 11 straight days–surely a world record for forthrightness and honesty–and I have had the fortitude to put that admission out there in full public view. Now, it seems, the rest of the world is finally catching on. In today’s Boston Globe, columnist and basketball pundit Peter May makes the case that Walker should be nominated for the Most Valuable Player in the NBA. The Celtics, he argues, have gone from a mediocre team to a “legitimate No. 3 team in the East” and “there’s one prime reason for this turnaround: Employee No. 8.” Sometimes bloggers like myself wonder why they even bother. But then an article like this comes along to make it all worthwhile.

My celebrated struggle with Patriots Obsessive Disorder (listed as POP in DSM-IV) had been doing fine until the recent news of Tedy Bruschi–first the stroke on February 16, then the clandestine heart procedure, and now the news he may sit out the 2005 season. First we lost Troy Brown and now Bruschi who, ironically (in light of his current condition) is the heart and soul of the team. That’s too much for anyone to bear, especially someone caught in the all-consuming grip of POP. And it had all been going so well….

“Call Me Snake” had a surprise visit earlier today from none other than “Jungle Jerk,” a gonzo journalism aficionado and frequent commentator on this blog. Snake had the privilege of personally interviewing “JJ” before he boarded a plane to Bogota, Colombia. Here’s a brief sample of the three-hour-long interview:

Snake: Where you going, Mr. Jungle Jerk? Uh, do you mind if I just call you Jungle Jerk?

JJ: It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I’m going to the jungle.

Snake: OK, I thought you just said the Amazon… Anyway, uh, what are you going there for?

JJ: To get away from idiots like you.

Snake: Cool. Say, um, how’d you get a name like Jungle Jerk?

JJ: It’s not my name. It’s just something a jerk I know calls me.

Snake: Who, if I might be so bold as to inquire?

JJ: Who do you think? It was you.

Snake: Oh… Cool.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: After such a promising start, the conversation took a downturn at this juncture, and the interviewer, despite his considerable skill, was unable to elicit any other startling revelations.]

In response to public demand, we’re offering a new feature in this blog: MOVIE REVIEWS. Today we’ll review the Japanese cult-horror hit, “Ju-On: The Grudge.” First, about the title: Is it anti-semitic (i.e., a play on “Jew-on”), as I’m frequently asked? It might be, but for that matter it’s also anti any thinking (i.e., non-comatose) person. As one friend wisely put it: Hellraiser II was no Hellraiser III, and Hellraiser I was no Hellraiser II. Well Ju-On was no Hellraiser I, not by a long shot. I must confess I did not last long into this picture, turning it off after less than half an hour had elapsed. But by then, I’d already seen enough. At the core was a monster so scary that it reduced every character who encountered it, including tough, hardboiled cops, to cringing, sniveling idiots. What was so terrifying to these characters onscreen, though laughable to everyone in the audience? A 6-year-old (or so) boy who was simply having a bad hair day. Now I know why they wanted to remake this movie with Sarah Michelle Gellar (“Buffy Summers” to most people) in the star role. Anything to avoid watching the original, plus the fact that Buffy is pretty darn buff. The scariest thing about Ju-On is that it was a huge hit in Asia and ensures that more horrific horror flicks will be imported to these shores. (IMPORTANT READER SURVEY: How was this review? Too strident? Not strident enough? Or just the right degree of stridency?)

I got a letter the other day from John S. Milone, President & CEO of National Register’s Who’s Who, who took time out of his busy day to give me the opportunity to be cited in his prestigious volume, which is registered each year with the Library of Congress (ISBN 0-9702264-3-8) in Washington, D.C. John, himself, is probably not doing too shabby. His office is located at “Two Wall Street,” which is an impressive address. And the fifth floor suite–undoubtedly with at least one window, if not two or more–is sure to afford spectacular views of Brooklyn, Manhattan, and the bridge running between them whose name suddenly escapes me. It was a tempting offer but I turned him down, despite the fact that no annual dues or fees were involved, mainly because I respect my privacy too much. Deep down I’m a modest person and even though I’m exceedingly accomplished, with an awe-inspiring list of credits to my name, I try to keep that kind of information to myself, rather than trumpeting it for all the world to see and hear. So thanks again John, but I’m not really a “Who’s Who” kind of guy. Now if you ever publish something along the lines of “Who’s Not,” please keep me in mind.

I’m almost sounding repetitive: The lads of green, otherwise known as the Boston Celtics, won on the road again, beating the hapless Hornets 113-100, and Antoine Walker logged another strong performance (18 points, 9 rebounds). The numbers do not lie: 7 straight wins, 11 out of 12 since Walker put back on his green jersey, and, more importantly, I have been wrong (about that particular matter we won’t even mention anymore) for eight straight days–a record that may last longer than DiMaggio’s. Meanwhile, the Beantown Twelve have become the hottest team in the NBA. All doubts–which should never ever have made it to the surface in the first place–have now been vanquished.

That inspiring bunch of athletes affectionately known as the Boston Celtics has done it again, beating a red-hot Houston squad (on the road, no less!), 103-92. Once again, Antoine Walker stepped up big, pouring in 18 points, including 3 of 5 from “downtown,” and making some key free throws down the stretch. That’s 6 straight for the C’s and 10 of their last 11 since Walker’s return. If there was ever even a glimmer of a doubt regarding the sagaciousness of the Walker deal, that should now, and forever, be put to rest. Questions about Ainge’s perspicacity, and powers of discernment, should similarly be silenced. As for the most important streak concerning the Celtics, I have now been wrong–STONE COLD DEAD WRONG–for 7 straight days, which in my book makes a week. This is, in all likelihood, a record that will stand the test of time.

I was showing a friend something on my computer the other day (which is something I rarely do, because I am not a nerd) when he said: “I haven’t Googled myself lately. I’d better take a look.” I suppose most people have done that at some time or another, and I must confess that I have as well. Beyond the usual stuff you expect to see — the outstanding warrants, the threatening notices from the IRS, the “Deadbeat Dad” alerts, and the like–there are also the unexpected delights that keep us coming back. The last time I “Googlesized” myself–by which I mean to count (in base 10) the total number of listings under my various names and pseudonyms (2,600 in total, of which only 630 were deemed “most relevant”)–I found myself associated with all sorts of odd items such as: Atheist Quotes (I don’t believe in atheism), the Atkins South Beach Diet (never diet), the Australian Home Education Website (don’t put much stock in “home schooling”), Frightening Facts About Cars (don’t drive), Complexity Digest (I’m remarkably noncomplex), Gale Encyclopedia of Psychology: Delusion/Delusional Disorders (not applicable), A Field Guide to Alien Contact (a clear case of mistaken identity), and Computational Origami at MIT (never tried though it sounds like a real kick in the pants). I was even lambasted on some website called “Everything Isn’t Under Control” by some unnamed blogger who said: “Hey Steve Nadis, try having a good conversation on the stairmaster and get back to us.” Well, as a matter of fact, I’m going to the gym right now, and I’ll be sure to do that. Were it not for Self-Googling (that’s not dirty, even though it sounds like it might be), it would never have occurred to me.

The hit TV show, “Desperate Housewives,” has been off the air for a few weeks–a “creative hiatus,” they call it in the business–and security on and around the set is at the highest level of alert (code “black and blue,” I believe), lest news of the latest infidelity, backstabbing, catfight, and failed attempt at vehicular homicide is leaked to an insatiable public. I personally never watch the show (do you know anyone who admits watching it?), but am impressed with the security and honestly think the production staff should consider taking over the Department of Homeland Security which is, by all accounts, a complete, unmitigated disaster.

But back to the show I never watch: Yes, ABC has a hit on its hands. But there’s a far better story waiting to be told. It’s called “Desperate Househusbands.” I don’t need to write the script because I live it every day. The desperation comes from having a job that nobody respects–not your neighbors, your wife, your kids, your pets, not even yourself. There are tales I could tell you, truly horrific stuff, that would make the antics of Wisteria Lane seem like the innocuous fluff that it is. But I won’t tell you now when you can see it for yourself next year as part of ABC’s new “Desperate” franchise–one show each night of the week devoted to a different class of desperate characters. I’m working on all six pilots, as we speak. Without revealing much, I can tell you Thoreau was correct in saying “the mass of houseplants lead lives of quiet desperation.”

The Celts beat the Raptors for their 9th victory in the last 10 games and their 5th straight win. But that’s not the streak I referred to in the title. No I’m talking about an even more important streak: For four straight days (and five counting tomorrow, which I think is safe to include as it’s a day off for the public schools here, as well as for the Celts), I have been wrong about ever having called into question the sagacity of the Walker trade. Another strong outing from ‘Toine (24 points) proved just how wrong I was, if there had been any lingering doubt. A fan at the Fleet Center even hammered that point home, waving a sign that complimented Ainge on his shrewd roster move. I can’t dispute the content of that placard, though I don’t think Ainge needs any more ego streaking given that his brilliance has been widely heralded throughout the land, ad infinitum.

Thankfully, all has been quiet on the Gorman front. I have not received any more threatening notes from him or from his legal bulldogs. Which brings to mind another point: Is it just me or has our society become too litigious? Isn’t it great to have a cowboy in the White House for a change, instead of another lawyer, especially given that cattle rustling has long been the number one challenge facing this great nation?

Mike Gorman of FSNE contacted us this morning, saying he was “still miffed,” on account of being called “Tom Gordon” first (an obvious typo) and then, in the original “corrected” version, “Tom Gorman,” which some might see as progress. Unfortunately, he seems to take a narrow view of things, which is a shame, as I always considered him a class act. Sometimes you don’t know anything about a person until they’re pushed to the limit. Frankly, Mr. Gorman, you’ve let us down.

Lowell, Massachusetts, birthplace of Jack Kerouac, has solved the illicit drug problem that now grips the nation: A Dunkin’ Donuts there has removed its chairs and stools. Everyone knows that drug dealers are lazy bums who like to sit on their asses whenever possible. But not in Lowell. Now if the rest of the country will just follow suit, we’ll have a drug-free (and chair-free) society. Amen.

My computer malfunctioned for the untold time and, as a result, instead of writing “Mike Gorman” (FSNE’s imperturbable Celtics play-by-play man), it came out: “Tom Gordon,” i.e., the former Red Sox pitcher lionized by Stephen King. (See “STILL WRONG,” March 15, 2005, for details, though all traces of that glitch have been surgically removed.) Rest assured: The problem was fixed soon after Gorman brought it to my attention in a good-natured comment and, hopefully, the matter will end there. We can only pray it won’t devolve into another Lemieux-scale debacle, which is the last thing anyone needs.

The Celtics played the lowly Bobcats in Charlotte last night and based on their performance, as well as the performance of A. Walker (a “team leader, both on and off the court,” in the words of FSNE play-by-play announcer Mike Gorman), I’ll have to stand by my previous assessment (“I WAS WRONG (again), February 14, 2005). I could bore you with details about the game, such as who won, or details about Walker’s contributions, but I realize people don’t care about that. They just want to know whether I was right or wrong. As things now stand, I was wrong. And that is not likely to change–at least until Wednesday night, when the Celtics take on the Raptors at the soon-to-be-named BankNorth Garden. Stay tuned. Updates will follow Coach Rivers’ press conference.

We know we’re doing well. Still, from time to time, we like to ask the reader just how well we’re doing. Are there some areas you’d like to see more attention devoted to? For example, do you think the Antoine Walker debate has received adequate coverage? Would you like to hear more about the author’s daily struggles with Patriots Obsessive Disorder or about this blog’s quest to find an identity we can all embrace? Please let us know your thoughts on these and other critical matters. Your input is extremely helpful to us. And thanks in advance for the care and attention you are giving to this discussion.

This Antoine Walker situation is getting more complicated by the day. In my last post (“Maybe I was right,” March 12, 2005), I argued (persuasively at the time) that perhaps I was right when I initially gave voice to questions that had been raised about the wisdom of the Walker deal. Despite the victory over the Pistons, the defending NBA champs, some sloppy play by Walker (missed layups, turnovers, etc.) lended some legitimacy to those questions. Now I’m not so sure. The Celtics won again on Sunday night (7 out of the last 8 by my admittedly unofficial tally), beating Washington 105-101. Walker came through with 11 points, 12 rebounds, 1 block, and 2 steals. Tommy Heinsohn, known for his cool objectivity, called Walker a “very smart player” and indeed one of the smartest players on the team. (If Heinsohn is right, and he’s rarely wrong, that would make GM Danny Ainge one of the smartest ex-players on the planet.) To make a long story short, I just finished watching the Wizards game on videotape delay and, after a few moments of reflection and soul searching, I now believe I might have been right the first time when I said I was wrong. Or, to make things perfectly clear: maybe I was wrong on Sunday when I said I was right. More clarifications will follow on this evolving story.

Awhile back, I suggested that perhaps I had been hasty to raise questions about the wisdom of the Antoine Walker trade (“Maybe I was wrong,” February 26, 2005). Well, sure enough, the Celtics have gone on to win 6 of their last 7 and the genius of GM Danny Ainge has been widely pronounced (“True Genius,” March 9, 2005). Last night the Celts earned one of their biggest wins of the season, a double-overtime triumph over the defending World Champs, the Detroit Pistons. But Walker was just 4 of 19 from the floor, missing several easy layups, clanging free throws, and often trying to go coast-to-coast, only to lose the ball at the other end (4 turnovers for the night). So maybe I was right after all, and maybe Ainge is not the genius everyone claims. Time will tell, of course. But I now think I might have been wrong to say I was wrong.

This blog, like just about every other one in the blogosphere, used to go to just 10. But with my recent upgrade, achieved through the help of some html-enabled friends, it now goes to 11.

I overheard this conversation the other day, the type of remarkable exchange one could only hear on the “streets” (or fiber-optic cables) of Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Man One: Are you busy?

Man Two: A little, but not uninterruptably busy……

I’m well aware of the fallibility of memory. In fact, you might call me a student of the subject. But in this case, I can vouch for the accuracy of the above transcript, down to the last semicolon. Why can I be so sure? Well, it’s time for another confession: I’m “Man One,” and I delivered those memorable three words (“are you busy?) with my usual panache, as if auditioning for the role of street cleaner in “Cats.”

I presented this snippet not only to show off my flair for dialogue–movie producers take notice!–but also because I’m particularly taken with the expression “not uninterruptably busy,” which I envision great things for, taking its place alongside “teachable moment ” and other phrases-du-jour. Add it to your lexicon and mark my words: It’s going to be big. What’s so great about “not uninterruptably busy,” you ask, that makes me think it has a chance of making the bigtime, as the terser and less cumbersome “teachable moment” did? There are a number of reasons, including the fact that it ties in so marvelously to our plugged-in, 24/7 lifestyle. “But why now?” you ask. “And can it possibly be another ‘where’s the beef?’ or ’sock it to me’?” To this, I reply, if you keep pestering me with questions, I’m going to end this conversation right now. You see I’ve suddenly become “uninterruptably busy.”

People have been all over me for “misrepresenting” the score of last night’s Celtics game (95-91, actually), even though I qualified my entry by saying I was not sure of the score at the time. By focusing on minutiae like that and the spelling (or rather misspelling) of Bill Belichick’s last name (since corrected, thank you), these well-meaning readers missed the whole point of yesterday’s lesson. If I were grading their responses, I’d have to give them an “incomplete,” at best. Instead, I say in a spirit of magnanimity, let’s move on. “How can it profit a man to dwell on other people’s foibles when he might instead lift them, in mind and spirit, to a higher plane?” a famous philosopher probably asked at one time or another, and if he or she didn’t, they certainly should have. As for the Belichick misspelling incident, informed sources tell me it will not turn ugly, as was the case with the Lemieux incident, which finally seems destined for resolution after many tortuous twists and turns. As I said just a minute ago: Let’s move on. Surely there are more important things we could be discussing.

The Celts won again, their fifth out of six games since the return of Antoine Walker. The final score was 105-101, though I’m not absolutely sure. And it doesn’t really matter; a win is a win is a win, as Emily Dickinson was wont to say. ‘Toine put up respectable, if not incredible, numbers. But again the stats are sort of irrelevant. More important, he came up with a big steal in the final minute that helped seal the deal. The victory cemented GM Danny Ainge’s place as one of the great geniuses of the 20th century–taking a back seat only to Bill Belicheck, Theo Epstein, and Albert Einstein.

In yesterday’s post (“MR. LEMIEUX, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU! “), in which I discussed the misspelling of Mr. Lemieux’s admittedly tricky last name, I made another spelling error, writing “internal” instead of “interval.” Rest assured that I have rectified the situation. Nevertheless, that single letter substitution changed the whole meaning of the text, rendering the previous agreement null and void. We are now back to square one on what has become, despite my best-faith efforts, a raging controversy. I will keep you apprised of new developments, as they unfold in realtime (as opposed to “fake time”). Thanks again for your sensitivity with regard to this delicate matter.

An interloper, going by the moniker of “Jungle Jerk,” called something I wrote “total gonzo” in the comment section of this blog. That was high praise even if I didn’t rightfully earn it (the only substance I regularly abuse is carrot juice), though perhaps I lived up to the credo in an earlier story I wrote about Cub Scout den mothers. Being granted the “gonzo” label–deserved or not–made me think of another gonzo writer who started it all. I’m not talking about Hunter S. Thompson, about whom much has been said since he, literally, went out with a bang. No, I’m talking about Charles Giuliano, a Boston artist and erstwhile journalist, who coined the term about 35 years ago. In a July 3, 1970 article in the Boston Herald Traveler, Giuliano described fans at a Ten Years After concert in Harvard stadium as “gonzo,” arguably the first time the word appeared in print. Thompson, who made the term his own, did not use it in an article until 16-plus months later. Thompson was “given” the word gonzo from Bill Cardoso, a Boston Globe editor and writer who, in turn, had picked it up from Giuliano a short while earlier. Today, of course, everyone associates gonzo with Thompson, which may be even more appropriate now that he’s dead and gone, but no one–save for a precious few (the aforementioned “Jungle Jerk” included)–are aware of Giuliano’s contributions to literary history. I’m proud to have been called gonzo, even if my prose does not always meet that exalted standard, but today I’d take my hat off–that is, if I wore a hat–to Charles G., the man who gave the world of letters total, unadulterated gonzo.

The customary 12-hour grace period has elapsed and in this time I have not heard from Mr. Lemieux (a.k.a. “Super Mario”), any of his family members, his agent, attorneys, or personal masseuse. No grievances have been filed during this interval, no threatening letters received, nor have I gotten any harassing phone calls, lewd solicitations, or middle-of-the-night hangups. Therefore, in keeping with standard practice, I now consider the misspelling incident officially and formally closed. All parties involved can move forward from this imbroglio in the hopes (illusory perhaps, but allow us our dreams!) that tomorrow will be a better day–in terms of spelling and any other metric you choose. Thanks for your patience in the disposition of this delicate matter.

A few days back (see “Balance in Reporting,” February 28, 2005), I misspelled Mario Lemieux’s name. I’d like to apologize to him and to his entire family for that horrible injustice, which has finally been corrected. Still it was a tragic mistake–triggered by a volatile mix of carelessness and laziness–that contributed to the aforementioned, unfortunate result. I’d be happy to take full responsibility for that blunder if I could honestly do so, but in this case, I’m not fully to blame. You see the blogosphere is supposed to be a “self-correcting” operation. All the articles say that, including the one I’ve written. “When you make a mistake,” a widely-quoted blogger told me, “100 (1,000???) people immediately start hounding you, and you’d better fixed it right away if you want any peace.” Well days went by–an entire week, in fact–without a peep out of you, the “word police” I’ve come to depend on. This is supposed to be a partnership, as I pointed out in the now-classic entry “S.O.S.” (February 23, 2005), so let’s make sure that everyone lives up to their end of the bargain. If we do, innocent people like Mario Lemieux won’t be subjected to the insult of gross misspelling, run-on sentences, or split infinitives. Instead, we can all feel better about chipping in to see a job well done. At the end of the day, that’s all a man (or woman) can really ask for.

What does it take to have a successful blog? One good idea a day. I learned this from one of the first bloggers I talked to (http://allan.friedmans.org/mt/), long before I thought I had any interest in blogging myself. He said he liked having a blog because it pushed him to try to have one good idea a day. That notion stuck with me until eventually I decided to give it a try. After awhile, I realized that one good idea a day was too ambitious. So for now, I’m settling for one idea a day, good or bad, and even that may be aiming too high.

After a long period of soul searching lasting the better part of an hour, I have decided not to cave in to peer pressure, despite the damage this may cause me personally and professionally. This blog will not–I repeat NOT–be devoted exclusively to news of and relating to volleyball. This was, as you can imagine, a difficult decision to make. The volleyball lobby is extremely powerful, not only in this country but internationally, and is fully capable of rendering this blog insignificant. Although I will report on volleyball affairs from time to time, as has been my custom, I will not be restricted to that domain. In the end, it came down to this: My imagination is so broad and far-reaching that it could not possibly be confined to a single sport, no matter how pervasive that sport may be. Rest assured, I will continue to discuss my ongoing struggle with Patriots Obsessive Disorder and the debate over Antoine Walker’s return (and the related matter of Gary Payton’s comeback), as well as other burning issues my readers have come to depend on. If you want to know where I stand, and whether I can “go the distance,” look no further than the title of an acclaimed 2000 movie: “You can count on me.”

“Who am I? Why am I here?” Forgive me: I’m having a James Stockdale moment. And if you don’t know who James Stockdale is, I’ll forgive you, because he didn’t seem to know either. Stockdale, as some of you may recall, was famous for asking those two questions in the middle of a 1992 Vice Presidential debate where he represented his running mate Ross Perot. I laughed at the time, but now find myself uttering (muttering?) those very same questions. I guess you could say the joke’s on me. You see this blog is suffering from an identity crisis. Is it a volleyball blog or not? My profile, found at the right of this page, pretty much promises that. Yet my critics are quick to inform me that so far I’ve failed to deliver on that promise. It’s a shame, they say, because one of the things this world really needs is a good volleyball blog. And if this isn’t it, they’re going to look elsewhere. These questions have shaken me to the core. I will have more to say on this issue after a well-needed period of cogitation and ratiocination. If you don’t know what those words mean, please look them up in your Funk and Wagnalls. And by all means get back to me. I’m dying to know.

Now here’s an exciting development: Cosmetic surgery for pets is on the rise. It’s not only possible now to do something about your pet’s appearance, it’s becoming almost mandatory. Tired of your dog’s droopy, jowly visage? That’s no problem and certainly nothing a facelift can’t solve. One Boston dog owner had her pride-and-joy neutered but did not like the emasculated look, so she had fake testicles implanted. The possibilities are literally endless. As one Boston-area surgeon put it: “Anything we can do for people, we can do for pets.” I don’t know about you, but it’s enough to make me want to go out and buy a pet.

I was wrong: The Fleet Center is not going to be called “The Bank of Something or Other Center.” It’s going to be called “The Bank of Something or Other Garden,” specifically “BankNorth Garden.” Isn’t that nice? Such an improvement over “The Boston Garden,” which was so obvious a name as to have been prosaic. As for “BankNorth Garden,” that really rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Now for the bad news: We have to wait until July 1, 2005 before we can start using the term. What a shame. I’d like to start calling it BankNorth Garden today.

From time to time in this space, we weigh in on the great issues of the day–not just Patriots’ fever and Antoine Walker’s return, but other pressing issues like Social Security. I’ll admit, I’m not a history scholar. In fact, my last history class was in high school, and that was a few years back. (You do the math.) But I seem to recall that Social Security arose in an era called The New Deal (not to be confused with the Fair Deal, the Real Deal, and the Raw Deal), which was itself a response to the Great Depression. The collapse of the stock markets, and the ensuing collapse of banks that triggered, left people penniless. Social Security, I surmise, was designed to provide a cushion for folks in times like that. But now our fearless leader is proposing to tie Social Security to the stock market–what had been the original source of the problem. Kind of defeats the whole purpose, doesn’t it? As I say, I’m no scholar. Certainly no expert. Just a guy asking questions, with no disrespect intended. Still, it does make you wonder…

The Celtics have done it again, this time knocking off the Lakers, 104-101, at the Fleet Center. (Personal note: That’s my bank. Not the “Fleet Center,” but “Fleet,” except they changed the name to “Bank of Something or Another” to make it easier to remember.) Once again, ‘Toine posted some impressive numbers: 16 points, 13 rebounds, and 4 blocks. In case you haven’t been paying attention, that’s three straight victories since he joined the squad. It’s now abundantly clear that people who raised questions about the wisdom of the trade that brought Walker back to the Celts (op. cit., “The Return of Antoine Walker,” February 25, 2005) should have their heads examined, both individually and collectively. Shame on you. Not only were you wrong, you were dead wrong. And doubting Thomases to boot. Admit the errors of your ways and apologize. This was a brilliant trade–a testament to the genius (that’s not too strong a word) of Danny Ainge. Anyone who doubts that now is not of sound mind and should also have their heads examined. In fact, I recommend that procedure for most people who, through no fault of their own, end up reading this blog. To be on the safe side, insist on having the procedure (cranial exam) done twice: before and after reading this blog.

I’ve stuck to my mantra– “keep it together, keep it together” — and have been doing an admirable job, if I do say so myself. It had all been going so well. “Swimmingly,” you might say, if you were so inclined, though I personally have no use for the word. Then the Patriots had to go and release Troy Brown. TROY BROWN???!!! — the consumate Patriot who, for 12 years, did everything you could want a player to do: on offense, defense, and special teams. He did it all. And, in his quiet, unassuming way, he was an inspiration to all of us. Dammit, I loved the man! But now he’s gone, which is, they say, the price of success. For me, personally, it’s anything but a success. I’m riled up now. On edge. Maybe even agitated. And it had all been going so well…