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Washington Gets its Mojo
A special night all around in the nation’s capital. On Half Street in Southeast, a 21 year-old pitching phenom brought down the house and captivated the nation; down in Chinatown at the Verizon center, two performers who’ve written one anthem after another for an entire generation, touched hearts and made some of us old guys feel young again.
Baseball
There really are no words to describe what occurred at National’s Park. Stephen Strasburg, the “can’t miss” pitching phenom from southern California, didn’t miss.
With that much pressure, that much hype, and a national television audience, the rookie fanned 14 and made fools of professional major league hitters. After giving up a 2-run homer in the 4th he apparently got a little peeved because he then retired his final 10 hitters, the last 7 of them by strike-out.
The Washington Post’s Tom Boswell writes that National’s pitchers who were gathered in the bullpen couldn’t stop themselves from laughing at what Strasburg was doing to those poor Pittsburgh Pirate hitters. He got his 10th strike-out on a 101 mph fastball, one of four times during the night one of his pitches was clocked at over 100 mph.
Every 5th day this kid pitches will be a sell-out for the rest of the season in whatever park he is performing. He is potentially as dominant a pitcher as Sandy Koufax; the kind of pitcher who could do something amazing with every appearance; a no-hitter, a perfect game, a 20 strike-out masterpiece. My God- he is 21 years old.
James Taylor and Carole King
While I taped the ball game for later viewing, I took my son to see the “Troubadours” at Verizon Center and as we took our seats he said he’d never quite witnessed a concert scene like this one; so many OLD people. It did seem sort of like a gigantic 35 or 40-year High School reunion. We’ve lost a few hairs and added a few pounds since the days we first heard Fire and Rain and I Feel the Earth Move but it was a very sweet and nostalgic three hours.
You don’t often get two people together who between them have probably authored 40 hit songs. Say what they will about us baby-boomers when we’re gone, but we did provide the world some kick-ass tunes. Carole King sounds wonderful, by the way- her voice is holding up strong. JT is as charming, funny and talented as ever with the absolute cleanest sounding acoustic guitar playing you’ve ever heard.
The Future
DC looks like a helluva place to hang over the next few years. You’ve got your mass transit finally being expanded into Northern Virginia along the Dulles corridor. Southeast will soon develop into the same kind of boisterous and energetic place Chinatown has become with the stadium/arena effect drawing development and patrons.
And of course, there will be major stars for each of the city’s sports franchises. The Nats will have Stephen Strasburg and Bryce Harper. The Caps have Alexander Ovechkin, the best hockey player in the NHL. The Skins have Donovan McNabb and Mike Shanahan. The Wizards are about to get the best point guard in the nation in John Wall with their #1 NBA pick.
We may not be Title Town anytime soon but we do have enough shining stars to provide pretty much year-round memorable moments. It’s a fun and exciting time for ol’ DC.
A Nervous Wednesday for Caps Fans
Ok, I don’t really believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy but I do believe in the Washington Capitals. God- please- this once- could you not be a dream-killer?
No #1 Stanley Cup seed has ever lost an opening round series to a #8 seed after going up 3 games to 1. But the Caps have a chance to make that dubious piece of history Wednesday at the Verizon Center and they know it. Stung by complacency in Game 5 and one the best performances by any goalie ever in Game 6…we will soon know what the Caps are made of.
I am gloriously, dangerously and deeply emotionally invested in this damn thing. Granted, not as much as my season-ticket holding friends who were actually there to see the 2-1 Game 5 debacle when the Caps could have ended it all; who have followed every amazing twist and turn of a regular season that ended with Washington as the best team in all of hockey.
But the Caps are part of my neighborhood and I can’t help it. I live a block from Verizon Center and I’ve seen the red madness out in the streets of Chinatown before and after every home game. I hear the horns honking after an inspiring victory like Game 2 against Montreal when the Caps rallied to win a 5-4 nail-biter in overtime. And whether I get into the arena or not, I will be out in the streets for the joyous, delirious celebration when the boys hoist the ultimate prize above their heads.
Because I cannot accept the possibility that it could all come crashing down in one sad, pitiful moment Wednesday night; because it would make me wonder what the hell the regular season is for, and therefore, why even watch or care at all- I must believe they will pull this off.
Not only that, but I must believe that if they do win game 7 Wednesday- they have a real chance to go all the way. Here’s the theory, expressed by Brian McNally of the Washington Examiner:
…win that seventh game and no one remembers a thing. The panic subsides — for a few days at least. Jaroslav Halak can’t follow you to Philadelphia. You don’t have to go back to Bell Centre and its legion of screaming fanatics. It’s a new series and a 0-0 start and sometimes the relief of that allows a team to loosen up and make a run at a championship.
Right? Doesn’t that make sense? I have to believe. They will win. Otherwise, on Thursday morning when I wake up, Santa Claus will have been shot at point-blank range by an armed bandit, the Easter Bunny’s head will be hanging on some hunter’s wall and the Tooth Fairy will be serving 10 to 20 for a narcotics conviction. What’s left of my innocence will be gone.
Hello World
Hello, hello? Is the mic on? Is this thing on. TAP TAP. Hello? Test, test, test. Oh, there you are!
Well, it seems I have been reconnected with the world once again, courtesy of Comcast, one of the most incompetent and customer-hostile companies in the United States. But having survived them (for now) – I have successfully moved to Washington, DC!
First off, for those of you who may have read a recent post on my previous household moves with my cats, I am happy to report all felines are in working order and adjusted in a record four days! Not that there weren’t several pathetic episodes of extremely neurotic behavior, but that’s quickly behind us.
My CPU’s survived the trip- what a sweet sound, plugging in those babies and hearing the whir of the fan and the purr of the spinning hard drive.
The President, the Snowstorm and the Arena
And how perfect that I got an immediate, representative dose of all that is cool and ridiculous about our nation’s capital all in the same day. I moved in Saturday- in a crippling Washington snow storm! The meanest four inches of snow I have ever experienced. Plows, what plows? I actually drove around a lot that day, including a heroic trip to DC’s only Home Depot on Rhode Island Avenue. I saw ONE plow that afternoon in the District.
As for the cool part- I now live right next to the Verizon Center, home of the best hockey team in the nation (the Caps are on a 10-game win streak) and the place that has also been home to the Washington Wizard’s Gilbert Arenas and some of the most sophisticated weaponry to ever grace an NBA locker room.
And our neighborhood got a little surprise visit during the great blizzard. The tip-off; about 300 police cars blocking off 6th street, including the alley me and my movers were using to off-load the furniture and boxes. Could it be? Yes- the Leader of the Free World had come to my friendly neighborhood arena to watch a Georgetown basketball game. Barack and Michelle Obama, one of the two kids, Vice President Biden and David Axelrod all made a snowy jaunt to watch some hoop action.
I had forgotten all about the security when the American President travels in this town. I was reminded immediately as I tried to take a forbidden right turn onto G Street. Directly from that creepy speaker system all cop cars have, came the voice of one of DC’s finest: “White mini-van, DO NOT turn right, I repeat do not turn right.” Very well then! Not wanting to spend my first night behind prison bars, I dutifully complied.
Yuppies-Everywhere
The Verizon Center has really livened up this part of town- Chinatown/Gallery Place. It’s terribly hip. I don’t think I have ever seen such a dense concentration of rich, white yuppies. My apartment building is crawling with them; the parentally subsidized sons and daughters of privilege-turned young professionals, pulling in a fat 50K working for some Congressman or Senator.
In an elevator with one of them, I got that look I’ve received a few times in my life- the one that indicates deep concern that I may have just lowered the neighborhood’s property values. Can’t say I blame the little yuppie dick-head. I was decked out in moving clothes- my U.S. Open Beth Page baseball cap, cheap reading glasses, a crappy sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers and covered in a long winter coat- the Latino version of Aqualung. So I shot back an equally dirty look and privately vowed to put on a nicer shirt the next day.
The Cable Company
As for Comcast. My cable technician did not arrive in the scheduled three-hour window. But he did have the courtesy of calling me nine minutes before the end of said window. Did I mind wasting three hours of my life, anxiously awaiting reconnection to the digital age? Damn right I did. He couldn’t come, he said, because of the big blizzard. Something about how he nearly died in a car accident in the last great snow-fall around New Year’s Eve.
I calmly indicated I thought he was a snow-wimp, and that since it had been blizzarding ALL day long, maybe a phone call a little earlier in the cable window might have been in order. I called to complain too. The Comcast “customer services” representative- the one whose conversation with me might be recorded for training purposes- hung up on me. I hope her supervisor listens closely to the tape.
“Thank you for choosing Comcast, how can I help you this evening?”
“Yeah, well, I’m calling to complain that I wasted three hours of my life waiting for a service technician who called me nine minutes before the end of the window to tell me he was too scared to drive here in the snow.”
Click.
A Comcast technician did arrive the next morning; a nice Jamaican fellow who used to live in Brooklyn. I love you D.C., but it took a New Yorker brave enough to drive through hardened slush, to get me reconnected to the World Wide Web.
It’s going to be an adjustment process- but I’ll get there. Gotta get back to dealing with the invasion of the cardboard boxes now.
Garcia Media Life 
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