Thursday, June 21, 2012

Capturing the Color of Competition



When I heard that sports artist LeRoy Neiman had died at the age of 91, I knew I wanted to write about him — but I was torn.

I didn't know if I should write about him on my sports blog or my arts/entertainment blog.

After all, Neiman produced paintings and prints of musicians and other celebrities, too.

And he did it well.

He brought their personalities to the canvas in colorfully descriptive ways — but he also did that with sports topics.

And, as someone who worked for several years as a sports copy editor, I have an abiding appreciation for the magic that photographers make with the topics they are assigned to cover.

Many of the most exciting, most dramatic photos I have ever seen were of sports events. Neiman simply did with a brush what photographers once did with film.

They used to call the great Secretariat Big Red. Well, I guess I'm using the word they a bit loosely. Secretariat's owner, Penny Chenery Tweedy, called him that — but the rest of the world called him Secretariat.

In his portrait of Secretariat, Neiman emphasized the red in his coloring (which was never that obvious to me when he was running — that may have been the quality of the color in our TV set, but he always looked chestnut brown to me). I guess you could say he exaggerated it, much as a cartoonist would exaggerate an unusual physical characteristic of a human subject.

I first became acquainted with Neiman's work in magazines like Sports Illustrated, which often showcased his paintings of memorable moments, like Dwight Clark's reception in the January 1982 NFC championship game.

Or great Olympic performances. Or golf tournaments.

Mostly, though, I associate Neiman's artwork with Muhammad Ali. Neiman often did a painting following a big fight, and his work was always in great demand whenever Ali fought another big–name boxer, like George Foreman or Joe Frazier.

I kind of got the impression at the time that Ali was one of Neiman's favorite subjects. Perhaps he was. Artists are human, after all, and they certainly have their preferences, just like anyone else.

But I don't know that for certain. If Neiman ever spoke in an interview about preferring to paint Ali more than anyone else, I never read or heard it.

Perhaps William Grimes of the New York Times put it best when he wrote that Neiman "cast himself in the mold of French Impressionists ... chroniclers of public life who found rich social material at racetracks, dance halls and cafes."

Neiman may have been sort of like Red Smith, who once said that he believed that people went to sports events to have fun, then they picked up the newspaper the next day to read about it and have fun all over again.

Perhaps Neiman's way of having fun was to re–create great sports moments on his canvas.

His work is, in its way, iconic — moreso, I think, than Andy Warhol's paintings of Campbell's soup cans because at least it captures the color of life. It isn't merely a painter's version of the negative of a still life.

I will miss Neiman every time a memorable moment occurs in sports.

Monday, June 18, 2012

My Memory of Jack Buck



"Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

Jack Buck
Oct. 14, 1985

When I think of Jack Buck, the legendary St. Louis Cardinals radio announcer who died 10 years ago today, I think of an October day in 1985.

It was a Monday, and the Cardinals were playing my favorite baseball team, the Los Angeles Dodgers, in the National League Championship Series. It was an afternoon game, but that wasn't a problem for me in those days. I was working nights for a metro newspaper, and my regular days off were Monday and Tuesday.

The series was tied, two games to two, and I was looking forward to settling in to watch the game. I was anticipating it all the more because my best friend, Randy, had promised to drive to my apartment after his workday ended and watch the end of the game with me.

Randy was a Cardinals fan — still is, for that matter — and, although I wanted the Dodgers to win, I wanted the score to be close when Randy arrived. If the outcome was already decided when he got there, it would spoil the experience.

It could hardly have worked out any better. The score was 2–2 when he arrived, and the Cardinals were coming to bat in the bottom of the ninth. With one out and no one on base, St. Louis' switch–hitting shortstop Ozzie Smith came to the plate to face Los Angeles' right–handed ace reliever, Tom Niedenfuer.

Mind you, Smith was never a power hitter. He hit a few home runs in his career, but he had never hit a home run when batting on the left side of the plate, and I recall hearing Buck say something about that (whenever I have a choice between the TV and the radio for play by play of a game, I choose the radio) only seconds before Smith connected with Niedenfuer's pitch and drove it over the right–field wall.

I had listened to Buck on the radio many times in my life before that afternoon. Heck, I grew up in Conway, Ark., which was smack dab in the middle of Cardinals territory in those days (it may be different now, with other regional and broadcast options for baseball fans).

When I was a kid, if I wanted to listen to a baseball game on the radio, I could listen to the Cardinals — or no one. And the only televised games in those pre–cable days were NBC's games of the week on Saturday afternoons.

Also, the minor league club that was based in Little Rock — the Travelers — was part of the Cardinals farm organization. The Cardinal influence was all around me.

So I listened to the Cardinals games, and I associated Buck's voice with baseball on the radio on warm summer evenings. No other voice has ever sounded quite right to me for describing the action on a baseball field.

Buck's signature sentence when a Cardinals victory was assured was "That's a winner!" But he sounded emotionally drained after Smith's unexpected blast, and I could imagine him slumping in his seat and urging his listeners to "Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

I've heard old–time Dodger fans say that the baseball moment that broke their hearts was in 1951 when the Giants, after overcoming a seemingly insurmountable Dodger advantage in the standings to force a rare playoff, beat the Dodgers to claim a spot in the World Series.

That was before my time. My most painful baseball moment may have been that day in 1985 when Ozzie Smith drilled a walkoff home run to beat the Dodgers. Ultimately, the Cardinals won the league championship and went on to face the Kansas City Royals in the World Series.

But I was happy for Randy. And I was glad that we had shared that experience together. Other than the outcome, it was everything I could have wanted.

In the years ahead, we attended many Dodger–Cardinal games at Busch Stadium. And I always liked knowing that Jack Buck and I had watched the same game in the same place.

It's been many years since I went to a game in St. Louis, but the last one was when Buck was still alive and still calling games for the Cardinals.

Randy and I never took a radio with us when we went to a game so I never had the experience of listening to his play by play of a game I attended.

But I think the knowledge that Buck is no longer in the press box would make it difficult for me to feel the same about being at a game.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Seattle Slew Was Special



I was very disappointed the other day when I'll Have Another was scratched from the Belmont Stakes, guaranteeing that the drought between Triple Crown winners would go on another year.

But today is a Triple Crown anniversary that may offer the tiniest bit of hope for horse racing enthusiasts that it may end soon.

Seattle Slew capped the 1977 Triple Crown race series 35 years ago today with a four–length win in the Belmont Stakes.

There was no doubt about it. Seattle Slew was a great horse, so great that Blood Horse magazine ranked him ninth in its list of the Top 100 horses of the 20th century — ahead of all but two of the other Triple Crown winners.

Seattle Slew was the first horse to win the Triple Crown while undefeated, and he remains the only horse to accomplish that feat.

But sometimes he seems to get overlooked, perhaps because he came along in a decade that had two other Triple Crown winners — and might well have had more. After all, Canonero II (1971) and Spectacular Bid (1979) both went into the Belmont Stakes with a chance to win a Triple Crown but came up short.

Obviously, Seattle Slew did not come up short in the Belmont.

It would have been wonderful if we could have seen a Triple Crown winner this year. The Triple Crown has always been a rare achievement. The horse that ends the currently 34–year drought since the last one — and make no mistake about it, I do believe it will end someday — may well be appreciated more than most because the wait has been so long.

If I'll Have Another had not been scratched but had lost the Belmont, racing fans probably would have had some wistful thoughts about what might have been, and there would have been a palpable sense of loss — but nothing like what descended upon the world of horse racing on Friday.

At least he would have made the attempt.

And it might have kicked off a wave of nostalgia for those '70s horses — Secretariat, Affirmed and the one that won the Triple Crown 35 years ago today, Seattle Slew.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Back in the Saddle Again?



Not long ago, I wondered if Maria Sharapova was past her prime at the tender age of 24.

Well, she has observed a birthday since I wrote that — so she is now 25 — and today she won the women's singles title at the French Open for the first time — so she is now one of a handful of pro players to win a career Grand Slam.

I think I may have been a bit hasty in speculating about whether she was over the hill.

Her victory over Sara Errani, who secured a spot in the world's Top 10 rankings with her performance in Paris, showed that concerns about the lingering effects of her shoulder injury were baseless.

She undoubtedly will go to Wimbledon as one of the favorites.

But her victory in Paris gave her a career Grand Slam — at least one singles title in all four Grand Slam tournaments — and should have erased all doubt.

Errani, also 25, is an up–and–comer. She and Roberta Vinci won the women's doubles title, and she defeated the 2008 and 2009 French Open winners en route to today's match.

Before the match, I heard Errani described as petite. Presumably, that was a reference to her height. At 5–foot–5, she is a few inches shorter than just about everyone she faces, and the height difference is even more pronounced when she stands next to Sharapova, who is nine inches taller.

But Errani is also muscular, and that is something I definitely do not associate with the term petite. I've always thought of petite as being synonymous with dainty — which it is, according to my thesaurus, but it is also listed as synonymous with small.

(I would argue the point to an extent. I have known women who were nearly as tall as Sharapova whom I would characterize as dainty. In fact, before I saw her play, I would have regarded Sharapova herself as dainty. But that is one thing she is not, at least not on the tennis court.)

As I watched Errani futilely, gamely trying to overcome Sharapova, I realized that, barring something completely unexpected, Errani will become a familiar face in tournament finals.

The final score was lopsided. The match was not.

Another Disappointment

Everyone — even the most privileged who walk the earth — must have felt it at some time.

That helpless, vulnerable, rug–pulled–out–from–under–your–feet feeling.

That's how I felt when I heard the news that I'll Have Another, the winner of this year's Kentucky Derby and Preakness Stakes, had been scratched from today's Belmont Stakes.

This is the longest drought between Triple Crown winners in thoroughbred racing history. Those of us who enjoy watching horse racing have grown wary of Triple Crowns. Almost no one ever speaks about the possibility after the Kentucky Derby, preferring to wait and see if its winner is more than a flash in the pan — and there have been nearly two dozen of those since 1978.

But there have also been a dozen horses — including I'll Have Another — that won the first two races and came to the Belmont in search of that elusive Triple Crown. The others came up short, either spectacularly so or, more rarely, by narrow margins.

There is a reason why the Belmont is called the test of champions. The first two races are shorter. They were designed with speed horses in mind. But the Belmont is longer. It favors endurance.

It is a rare horse — a Secretariat — that combines both speed and endurance.

I've enjoyed watching the horses run since I was a child. Nearly 40 years ago, I saw my first Triple Crown winner (on TV, not in person), then two more came along in what was (and still is) rapid–fire succession for thoroughbred racing.

And we have had no more since.

We've had plenty of near misses since Affirmed won the 1978 Triple Crown.

Perhaps the most colon–tighteningly, tantalizingly, exasperatingly close near miss of them all was the 2004 Belmont Stakes, in which Birdstone overtook Smarty Jones and denied him the Triple Crown by a single length. Smarty Jones seemed to possess both speed and endurance. It was a real disappointment when he failed.

Most of the time, it is a speed horse that comes to the Belmont and loses — big. And that, in itself, answers the question that follows the exceptional horses that win the first two to the third jewel of the Triple Crown: Is this horse more than a speed horse?

Since 1978, all the two–time winners have had their opportunity to answer that question on the track.

But it will never be answered in the case of I'll Have Another. Instead of making a bid for horse racing immortality this afternoon, he was retired.

There was never going to be a shortage of important sports events today. Earlier, Maria Sharapova won the women's final at the French Open. She is now one of a handful of tennis players who won a career Grand Slam — at least one singles title in each of the four Grand Slam events.

Tonight, the Los Angeles Kings will try to win their first–ever Stanley Cup. And the Miami Heat and the Boston Celtics will play for the right to face Oklahoma City in the NBA finals.

But all that would have been overshadowed by far if I'll Have Another had won the Belmont.

Somebody wins the NBA championship, the Stanley Cup and the women's final of the French Open every year.

But it's been 34 years since a horse won the Triple Crown.