Lazy Man Review: TV shows '12

It is the end of the spring '12 TV viewing season which means it is time for a check in on all the shows that Danielle and I are currently watching. Or sometimes watching. Or taking off our DVR list.

On with it

Alcatraz (C). I will be shocked if this show returns next season. I had such high hopes for a science fiction/mystery/fill in the void left by Lost. Instead it is a show that was decidedly average at best, poorly written at worst, and managed to lose over 50% of its initial audience.

Storage Wars (A+) Possibly the best show on television right now and once again showing the initial casting plus luck makes a huge difference. How big a difference is casting? Storage Wars: Texas is awful compared to the original because you cannot overcome how vicious Dave Hester, Jarrod (& Brandi), Barry and Darrel are to one another. Okay, Barry isn't really mean to anyone - but the contempt the others have developed for one another borders on awe inspiring due to the sheer arrogance involved. It is beautiful television.

Grey's Anatomy (B). This show leads my list of "WTF?" on season finales. A season finale setup involving a plane crash that made Danielle so angry she remarked on it to the receptionist at our pediatrician's office. The rest of the season has been fairly awesome due to the de-emphasis of Meredith's Grey character and the heavy lifting done by Sara Ramirez and Sandra Oh. How good is Sandra Oh? She was in a storyline where she aborted her child because she didn't want kids and by the end we were cheering for her.

RAW is WAR (C). Since this is live professional wrestling fare Danielle and I have developed a surprisingly accurate prediction system: if the opening promo is good then the show is good, if the opening promo is bad then the show sucks.

Glee (D). We used to love this show. Now we have no idea what is going on. That is despite watching the first half of the entire season. Danielle doesn't even watch the DVR'd episodes.

30 Rock (B). After nearly being taken off our DVR list after last season's debacle this show has become must-watch again. I am still unsure whether I am pleased or horrified at the continued attempts to shoehorn Tracey Morgan and Jane into scenes together. Okay, I am pleased since they kill me.

How I Met Your Mother (F). A season finale that out did Grey's Anatomy for horribleness. Does any viewer like any character on this show anymore? It is like finding an honest man in whatever that biblical story about finding the honest man is about. This show has one more season to run though no one is going to care about how the mother is anymore since no one is going to like the characters.

Modern Family (A+). Oh yeah, hello Best Show on Television! Consistently funny, consistent character growth, consistent gratuitous shows of Sophia Vargas's cleavage. Ed O'Neill has been killing it as the patriarch in the family since it slowly being revealed as a really bad parent for his first set of kids.

The Big Bang Theory (A). A show with a wedding that WASN'T THE FINALE! Mega points just for that. This show started out about four nerds and now it is about four nerds and their friends and families. I can't say enough about this show as it also has a rare bit where people are actually good at their jobs! I know, strange though making people competent.

Person of Interest (A). I admit to loving number driven crime shows. PoI has perfected the weekly episode connecting into an interesting overall story. I am afraid to talk to much about this show as I am afraid it would start sucking too much.

So there is 2012 Spring in review. We probably should remove a show or two from the DVR, though habitual viewing is a terrible habit to have.

Wayne

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: Game 3 - Kids Dash

Nobody wants to be "that guy" when it comes to a kid.

You hear or read about stories involving parents and children. The type of stories that you read and you think "that guy with the kid is an idiot." Whenever I am about to do something dumb when Sienna is around I think about how the newspaper article would read and whether the reaction would lead to "that guy with the kid is an idiot."

That very thought crossed my mind as I considered testing whether I could physically put the gas pedal through the floor of my Jetta. I could practically see my car going warp three up the BQE.

Sienna was in the backseat oblivious to my momentary day dream of a Star Trek engine in our Jetta. What was most likely on Sienna's mind was that Grandma was providing closeup entertainment in the back of the car. I could hear Grandma making various high pitched talking noises that resulted in high pitched squeals of joy from Sienna.

On the radio the Mets mothership - at least that is what I call it - informed me that the Mets were up 3 - 1 in the top of 9th with the Mets having a pitching change. A few extra minutes of time for me.

Important time. I wanted to get to the statement. I had a couple of VIP passes for Sienna and myself, specifically obtained so we could participate in the Kids Dash. That is if I managed to get to the stadium before the game ended.

I really wanted to speed.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONBathroom usage in Boston might as well be a VIP privilege. When the designers of the city created its spoke-like street setup, it not only foregoed common-sense design, it foregoed (forewent?) having bathrooms in the known universe.

Which was unfortunate as I told my brother, "I need to use the bathroom, Brian."

My brother and I were outside Fenway Park, clearly within range of hearing the roar of the crowd. Not that we had tickets. Not that we had actually planned on being anywhere NEAR Fenway Park that day. I don't know exactly what we were doing in Boston that day. Just that is was extremely hot and from the noise of the crowd...something was happening.

All of those facts had minimal impact at the time. The most important fact was I really need to empty my bladder.

The bathroom situation in Boston is so bad that in  college my friends an I would be forced to turn an alley into a urinal. That is even though we could afford to go into a restaraunt and buy something, or into a bar, or into one of the millions of pizza places.

At thirteen I was too young to go into a bar, no way I'd be let into a restaurant, and I had no money for a pizza place. Which left the Boston Red Sox official team store as my last best hope.

"I'm going in there," I told my brother Brian. With that I wandered into the store, my brother informing me he would stay outside Fenway, his sixteen-year-old hormones satiated by watching girls.

10 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI was behind a girl. A three-year-old girl to be specific. A slow moving three-year-old girl to be as specific as possible. It wasn't her fault I had left my tickets inside, thwarting my own plan to drive down the street as quickly as possible.

My neighbor was teaching her three-year-old daughter to navigate the steps of our apartment complex. A younger me would have a) jumped over both of them, or b) pushed on by them. The older more mature me with the hip injury that requires surgery can a) not jump over a phone book at this point, or b) risk being hip checked down some steps.

I waited with as much patience as I could muster. Knowing I had come so far with my Sunday adventure already and also that it would be ironic if I was late to the Kids Dash because a little kid walking in front of me was decidedly NOT dashing anywhere.

15 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYN"I just need to use the bathroom and then we go." Grandma Trudy was rushing through the door into our apartment. She rightfully wanted to use the bathroom, after all she had just spent three plus hours stuck in traffic thanks to some sort of bicycle event that had taken over New York.

Sienna was adorable in her Sunday Mets best. Okay, Sienna was adorable in her Sunday Mets best half asleep in my arms, having just waken up from a long afternoon nap. Freshly changed it was about the only part of the plan that had gone correctly all day.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long." She adds the thought after she finishes using the bathroom.

"No, she has only been up for three minutes. Let's go." Grandma Trudy did not mentioned that I looked like an extra from some MLB souvenier commericials: Mets jersey, Mets hat, Mets t-shirt. Yeah, fandom gets a little crazy sometimes. Especially since most of the gear was due to Danielle's influence.

I needed backseat Grandma to feed Sienna though. One does not abandon his partner in crimes no matter the circumstances. Well, sometimes the circumstances do warrant it.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONThe circumstances warranted the ditching. I didn't intend to ditch Brian. It just sort of happened.

"Hey, you guys have a bathroom I can use?"

I'm inside the souvenir shop. My mouth waters from being surrounded by team gear I would never be able to afford. There is no one else in the shop, which accounts for the guy at the counter not even looking up as I enter.

"Yeah, go through the doors back there, take a right, top of the stairs."

I bolt in the direction of what he has given me. Through the doors...take a right...top of the stairs.
Suddenly I find myself along the third base loge INSIDE of Fenway Park. The crowd is on its feet cheering wildly.

The guy sent me into a bathroom INSIDE of Fenway Park. It is like a hidden trail that I am sure much wiser people than myself know about. How I didn't know about this is beyond me.

Though it doesn't matter to me. I am definitely in a place I am not supposed to be.

It is incredible what you can plan and execute in fifteen seconds. It was the seventh inning of the game with Boston at bat. People were up cheering and a Red Sox player was rounding third and heading for home. Less than fifteen feet away from I could see...seats.

Blessed empty seats a couple of people in from the aisle. That is if I snuck past the usher who was paying attention to the field, get past two people with seats next to the aisle.

Not a problem and approximately eight seconds later my full bladder and I were nestled into our seats. Two seats. Two bad Brian didn't come in with me.

30 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI as nestled into the seat of our couch as I read the email from Danielle. She doesn't think I'll make the game. RA Dickey is a fast pitcher on a slow day. On a fast day RA Dickey resembles a sprinter who happens to pitch. Catch the ball, nearly runs to the mound, fires a pitch in.

RA Dickey is now ruining my afternoon. RA Dickey is personally screwing up my planned afternoon with my daughter. As a fellow parent I figured the man who have some sympathy for my plan.
In my mind RA Dickey also has a clue of existence and who I am. I can't always say I am firmly in reality.

I call Danielle.

"Maybe I should wake up Sienna."

I credit Danielle that she didn't just hang the phone up on me. No parent ever wishes a child wakeup. Ever. You just don't do it. It is unthinkable even as the words escape my mouth and reach my ears.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONThe words reach my ears. An undeniable klaxon of enjoyment interuptus. "I'm with him!"

There are words you don't want to hear and times you do not want to hear them.

As a younger brother I have been trained to react to my older brother's voice no matter where I am. In this case I'm in my seat at Fenway Park. I have no idea how my brother even spotted me. What I do know is he is arguing with the usher in the section where I am sitting in my illegal seat.

I have about six seconds before I'm about to lose my great seat at Fenway Park.

I turn to the guy next to me - I haven't even look at him since I sat down - I don't even care about his existence until this second. A guy in his mid-20s, his eyes are glazed over from too much beer, though to his credit he is sitting next to a super attractive blonde.

"I need your ticket stub," I say to the guy.

"Huh?"

"Ineedyourticketstub." It comes out twenty times faster than I'd like.

The guy is completely useless. Luckily the super attractive blonder is NOT.

"Here," she says, reaching across her useless date and handing me her ticket.

I turn toward my brother's direction and yell, "Hey, moron, you left your ticket stub!"

That gets the usher, my brother's, and pretty much everyone in the sections attention. My brother gives a "what can you do?" shrug to the usher then quickly joins me. We go play the farce to the end with myself handing him to the ticket as he sits down next to me.

"Were you planning on coming out?" Brian asks me.

"No," I tell him.

It's only the 7th inning. A few more innings of baseball to watch. I really would have left him outside. Business is business.

60 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYN
Business is business. Grandma Trudy calls to give me an update. She is now less than a mile from the house. Traffic is crawling. At this rate Sienna will wake up and I'll have to make the decision on whether to wait for Grandma or not.

When I got married my father told me, "You aren't just marrying Danielle, you're marrying her mother too."
Realistically I won't leave Grandma behind. Really. I swear.

Okay, maybe I will. If she just drove faster then I wouldn't be left to the decision. I look at the baby monitor that is pointed at Sienna's bed. My daughter really loves her weekend sleep. All will be well. I ponder what sort of cosmic craziness would put Grandma late and Sienna awake.

90 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNMy Iphone buzzes with Danielle on the other end of the line. Her mother is stuck in traffic going on a trip to New Jersey. Do I care if she stops by the house?

Sure, no problem I tell her. Since I have an extra ticket I can even bring Grandma to the game with us. It isn't a completely altruistic maneuver. Depending on what time Sienna wakes up my daughter may be hungry. I know I'm going to want to get to the ballpark, though there is no way I'm NOT feeding and changing my child. If Grandma is around to help then I can change Sienna and Grandma can feed Sienna in the car.

I tell Danielle my reasoning. Just to make sure I'm not crossing over some unknown son-in-law line. I'm not.

I call Grandma Trudy. She is indeed stuck on the BQE, trying to get to New Jersey. She is grateful for the confirmation of a place to stop and yes, if she gets to me in time she will happily join us for the end of the baseball game. Grandma Trudy loves her Mets. She also loves her granddaughter Sienna.

One door closes, another one opens, or some sort of cliche like that.

2 HOURS EARLIER - BROOKLYN
I'm not watching the Mets game. I consider it bad form to spend one of the 13 Sundays watching baseball with Sienna not actually watching baseball with Sienna. The DVR is my friend. I have a lot of catching up to do. Since I'm irresponsible I choose to play video games instead.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTONSince I'm irresponsible I try not to brag to the people around us. My brother gives me a withering look. The flirt shamelessly with the blonde, completely ignoring the drunk guy. I am thirteen, I am on top of the world.

2 HOURS 30 MINUTES EARLIER - BROOKLYNI am thirty-eight, I am on top of the world.

I put Sienna down for her nap. Her Sunday nap is usually just over and hour. Ninety minutes tops. We will get to the game, catch the final three innings, finally get her to see some live baseball this season, and importantly enough participate in the Kids Dash.

Sienna, looking glorious in her pink Mets onside that I've supplemented with a pair of her jeans, snuggles up to her stuffed leopard Spot and closes her eyes.

I laugh as I exit Sienna's bedroom and close the door.

25 YEARS EARLIER - BOSTON
My brother and I laugh as we exit Fenway Park. Three innings of baseball. Three innings of what-an-adventure enjoyment. I suddenly remember something.

"Brian, I still gotta take a piss."

CITI FIELD - THE PRESENT"And that's the ball game!"

No, I didn't time it perfectly. We pulled into the spot seconds AFTER the game ended. As we opened the door I could hear "Taking Care of Business" blaring out of the stadium.

I had seen the line that snaked around the outside of the stadium. Filled with people waiting to get in.
From last year's Kids Dash I knew that the field takes about 30 minutes to set up before people are let onto it. I loaded up Sienna into her baby bjorn in record time. Even with my injured hip I moved across the parking lot at a pretty good clip.

Danielle met us near an entrance - people streaming out as we tried to stream it. The toughest part will be getting people to understand we have a valid ticket. That is the toughest part.

The ticket.

Unlike 25 years ago I didn't need to sneak in the bathroom door this time. It was a matter of Danielle getting us to the correct person to zap our passes so we could go in with the VIP people. I can't even say my wife got us the passes. It didn't hurt that a beautiful woman once again kept me IN the ballpark once I was there.
And then Sienna and I ran the field together. Actually, that part isn't true. I carried Sienna around the field.

That part needs further explanation. Sienna did a koala hold - arms around my next, squeeze as hard as possible - as I carried her around the field. Even the Pepsi Patrol Party Girls remarking on my daughter's cuteness did not make the experience any more enjoyable.

That is until we reached home plate. At that point Sienna smiled, pulled her arms away from me and...reached out to Mommy who was waiting for her. I have a smart daughter. One who keeps me from driving too fast.

Kids Dash indeed. I am the guy carrying his child around the field. Nearly one year to the day that I carried her around the field.

I get to the be that guy.
Wayne

13 Baseball Sundays with Sienna: a sad week

1981 - a Little League field somewhere in Framingham, Ma 
"Someday you'll round those bases, John. Just not today. Now lets get some ice cream, kids." Mrs. Thomson to John Thomson and myself after a Little League game.

May 5, 2012, in a Brooklyn apartment
Sienna is down for her early morning nap as I try to arrange her schedule to make "dash" part of the Mets game. It is also as good as time to talk about the events of the past week.

Sunday, April 30, just past brunch in Prospect Park
 I knew why John was calling, which is why I didn't answer the phone. I admit there are times when I am very human, most likely cowardly, and not wanting to face such awful news. So I let the phone go to voicemail.

Sure, I was hanging out with Danielle and Sienna in Prospect Park watching Jason and Emily's son play Little League baseball. One of those ridiculously beautiful New York days where the weather forecast calls for rain, it stays sunny all day, and a pre-game brunch takes the event from wonderful to I'll-remember-this-day.

Turns out there would be other reasons to remember the day.

John is my oldest friend in the world. I met him when I was six years old, or maybe five, the exact date lost to lore, though the specifics that we were playing in the dirt with big digger trucks part of the narrative. We grew up a mere four houses away from each other, in a time when you could turn to your parent, tell them you were walking down the street and nobody would worry that you would not get there. The narrative includes Johnathan Maynard school, Brophy school, Farley Middle School, Framingham South High School, University of Massachusetts at Amherst, a business together, he and his wife being Sienna's Godparents, and a million other events and incidents.

Framingham - 1981
John and I had been excited when we were put on the same Little League team. Though not as excited as our parents - the same team meant an easier car pooling situation, which is the holy grail of suburban parenting.

Mrs. Thomson and my mother were a strange match. Mrs. Thomson a first generation Catholic woman from Scotland who had come to the United States at 24, and my mother a second generation Jewish woman. Mrs. Thomson was probably 5 or 6 years older than my mother, which I'm sure bothered my mother - though I would never know why.

Over the years I would discover that they both had adventurous streaks that manifested itself in travel, defending their children, and a stubborn streak. What was most important was that John and I were friends and that everyone was comfortable when the kids were playing together.

And in this case car pooling.

Since it was a week night game Mrs. Thomson was driving. Which meant she was watching when John was at bat.

Brooklyn - 2012
I still ignored the phone call though. Other than turning to Danielle and saying, "Damn, it's John."

During our childhood, I ended up a pseudo-extension of John's family. His younger brother Rob, his younger sister Jenny, his father John and his mother Jan. Which is why I didn't pick up the phone. His mother had Alzheimer's disease and four years early had been hit by a car.

She hadn't been expected to survive the accident. Danielle and I went up to visit with the family as they waited in the hospital with Mrs. Thomson. What the Doctor's did not account for was that Mrs. Thomson was a first generation Scottish woman - part of the generation that had been forged in various tragedies and automatically would not quit. Ever.

The Doctor's had to sedate her because Mrs. Thomson instinctively tried to rip the tubes from her body as she lay on the bed.

No, Mrs. Thomson never got better. The Alzheimer's had made everything awful, the accident sped everything up.

1981 Framingham
John was already about five inches taller than me at age 8. A wonderfully gawky age where he was all flailing limbs. Naturally he was awful at baseball.

Natural selection is a funny thing. John became quite a great soccer playing - both parents being from Scotland is merely a coincidence, I'm sure - a snow boarder, and yes, even a softball player.

At 8 he was awful though. He had not gotten the ball on the bat the entire season. Now, these days he would get a trophy for such an effort - in 1981 he got picked on by teammates. Hey, we were 8, what do you want? It had passed the point of mockery though; we didn't even joke about it anymore.

He was Casey at Bat sans all the success.

It was late in the game with two outs when John came to bat. Someone was on somewhere. It didn't matter, a strike out was on its way.

The father (father's pitched) tossed the ball in, John took a mighty swing and yes, he made contact. The aluminum bat made a noise unlike anything we had ever heard before.
 
2012 Brooklyn
My phone buzzed as a text message from John arrived. "I have bad news."

I still didn't want to call. Danielle, Jason and Emily all encouraged me to call. It wasn't surprising news, it was just too real. That was actually a Mrs. Thomson specialty - taking something that was raw and too real for me and making offering solace and wisdom.

She did it for me when I was twelve years old and my mother had died from cancer. A few weeks after the funeral John and I got into a fist fight. I mostly likely started the fight as I was furious with the world. Mrs. Thomson came out of nowhere to break up the fight.

I was crying, I was furious and Mrs. Thomson was understanding. I am not sure exactly what she said, I do remember the points she made. That I had a right to be upset, but there would be no fighting and that no matter what I would be welcome at their house whenever I wanted.

No questions asked. That is what you do.

1981 - Little League
John was rounding second base when the ball finally landed. It was like someone had put a jet rocket on the ball before launching it into the air. It was a little league TOWERING SHOT - all caps, no doubt about it, our entire team jumping up accordingly.

Unfortunately John had hit the ball almost straight up.

As John later graduated with an Engineering degree I am sure he could explain the physics of the ball. At eight years old, all we knew is that the ball nestled easily into the shortstop's glove - the only time all year John would make contact.

He was crestfallen as we made the way back to the car. Mrs. Thomson was left to pick up the pieces of an "almost" like moment. She put her arm around her son and did some parenting.

"Someday you'll round those bases, John. Just not today. Now lets get some ice cream, kids."

She looked at me and added, "and don't tell you Mother, Wayne."

My mother never would have believed that Mrs. Thomson of all people a) suggested the ice cream, and b) was willing to risk the ruining of dinner. So I kept it to myself.

Framingham until now...
Over the years Mrs. Thomson always made sure to have John ask me whether I have a place for various Holidays. Just knowing the offer was there made a huge difference. Of all the people of the people outside of my family who made promises when my mother died Mrs. Thomson was the only one who kept any of them.

When she had moved to Framingham with her husband they had made turned various friends into family for the children - for her I was another friend who was now family. To her there wasn't a reason to do it, other than that is what you do.

I finally called John back and he gave me the "official" news. He called it bittersweet and I certainly understood - there is a point where you don't recognize your parent and it certainly isn't the shell that you are visiting in the hospital. I had understood it from 25 years before. Like Mrs. Thomson had been there for me, I would be there for John and the rest of the Thomson clan - because that is just what you do.
 
Today
I can hear Sienna in her bedroom making noise. I've told her stories about Mrs. Thomson in the past. I've told her the difference Mrs. Thomson made in Daddy's life. I've told her that the reason Daddy plays so well with Sienna is because Mrs. Thomson reinforced how family is so important and that you can make your family where ever you are. That on top of everything spending time with your children - and other people's children so they know they are important and loved can be the thing a parent can do.

I'll tell Sienna again and again because these things are important. Mrs. Thomson would have liked the family time together. She also would have laughed that Sienna looks exactly like her Daddy. Today though - we're running the bases.

Wayne