Seen and Heard in New York: a Weekly Round-Up

While I may not be terribly productive outside my working hours, I do frequently use this time to enjoy the greatest hub of art, culture, and entertainment (and cuisine, finance, innovation, design, etc.) that is New York. (However, you will rarely see a silent movie with organ accompaniment there—Jersey City has dibs on that.) In the past week or so, I have been incredibly lucky to have watched a college basketball game, listened to a concert, and see two (or four, rather) plays. Frankly, I’m as astonished as you, dear reader, that I could fit this all within my week (and budget). But the cost of living here includes access to such opportunities. And if you don’t take advantage of this proximity, then you might as well live somewhere else--you know, somewhere cheaper and less exciting, like Philly.

Southern Exposure

#5 Brooks Robinson, Orioles legend

Caught the Bolt for a buck (or more)
For a 3-day weekend in Baltimore:
To see old friends and new sights,
Indulge in Southern charm and culinary delights,
And in my (old) backyard ... explore.

North Avenue guides me from interstate to inner city:
Metropolitan sprawl to blocks both gentrified and gritty.
New York, I love you, but you're bringing me down.
So let's take a chance on this old, yet vibrant town--
Two centuries since the Bombardment, and never more pretty.

Past Downtown and Inner Harbor we drive
To the hot spots in Fell's Point--both luxury and dive.
How 'bout lunch and a soccer match, if we make it quick?
Bertha's mussels and an afternoon pint do the trick.
Spain routs France, and for another round La Roja survive.

To Vaccaro's we amble for an Italian snack:
Pastries, cakes, and gelato--there's no lack.
We select some cannoli filled beyond capacity.
Where else would you find such vintage generosity?
Won't see Berger's here--just pignoli by the stack.

How about a movie to kill some time and avoid the heat?
To the Charles Theater we scurry and grab a seat
Just in time for the new Wes Anderson flick:
Moonrise Kingdom--quirky & sweet, clever & quick,
With characters and actors that can't be beat.

A brief drive fulfills the day's final mission:
A late, but fresh dinner at Woodberry Kitchen.
An old foundry houses this farm-to-table joint,
Where course after course fails to disappoint.
A delicious meal here might become a tradition.

On a bright summer Sunday fit for a ballgame,
More friends arrive, and a shady corner of Camden Yards we claim.
But early on, the Nationals take the lead.
Runners left on base? It seems the Os just won't succeed.
Except for a two-run homer by Wieters--and his arm's deadly aim.

A better finish couldn't have been written:
A sold-out stadium and an Orioles win;
Relaxing with friends, a Natty Boh in hand.
On to DC I travel, leaving behind Maryland
For some Ledo's and that new(s) show by Aaron Sorkin.

We swing by College Park, home to my alma mater,
For a bagel brunch, as the day grows hotter.
The sight of campus evokes memories both good and bad,
But I hold no love for Route 1, which never looked so sad;
Vertigo Books, 3 years gone--caught in a cultural slaughter.

Though the Mall is a construction zone,
There are still free museums, obscure and well-known:
At the Hirschorn we interact with modern art--
Colorful installations where the viewer must take part.
While Natural History exhibits colonial skeletons & bones.

We end our afternoon with increased knowledge,
Of the kind they don't teach you in college:
That art can be both pretentious and fun,
That 85% of Jamestown died in the Chesapeake sun,
And that a Rita's has been hiding under a Chinatown ledge.

But evening arrives and I must depart,
Though I do so with a heavy heart.
This trip of good times with good friends,
Is all too brief and too quickly ends.
One adventure over, I look for the next one to start.

Terps lose, Terps lose, Terps lose ...

This past fall, I hoped (as I do every year) that the Maryland Men's soccer team would be successful. They always make the NCAA tournament, and are perennially one of the top-ranked teams in the country. So, "success" for them would mean a National Championship, or at least a berth in the College Cup (the semifinal round.) Since I held this team so dear in my time at school (never missing a home game), I've of course written about them here before. Two years ago I had the pleasure of following them to two playoff games on the road, a tough route to a championship they fell short of reaching. And this past season, I had the opportunity to see them play when they took on Seton Hall just a short train ride away in the New Jersey suburbs. Although I was giddy to see them play (and to buy treats in support of the SH cheerleading team) that game itself was particularly frustrating: neither side scored, fouls and missed-opportunites were rampant, and despite Seton Hall not even close to playing on the same level as the Terps, they were competent enough to shutout the visitors. Oh, and Juan Agudelo, rising star of the US National Team and member of the New York Red Bulls, was there checking out the college game he eschewed to, you know, make some dough.

Now, I had especially wanted the Terps to do well this year so they might erase the woes of the football team (ineptly managed by a first-year coach) and the emerging woes of the men's basketball team (shakily starting their season under a first-year coach). However, no men's program at College Park is nearly as successful as the Maryland field hockey team which just became National Champions for the fifth time in the last 10 years (even winning back-to-back titles twice in that stretch, including this year.) Obviously, they're doing very well and won't be one of the athletic programs cut from the school budget. Actually, they should probably get more money, press, and notoriety than basketball and football--but we know that won't happen.

At any rate, I was excited to watch the live broadcast of the Terps playoff game on Sunday. I thought they were a lock for the win: a team with regular post-season experience in a third-round game, at home, against Louisville (who, despite being last year's tourney runner-up, was just a mid-conferance squad this season ... in the Big East.) But despite all the Terps' on-field talent and off-field advantages, Louisville burnt them three times (in the same way) for three goals. Though the Terps equalized twice, they evidentally didn't learn to lock down the quick counterattack off a long ball and gave up a goal too late in the game for another comeback. A disappointing result, especially considering this is how I watched them finish their seson twice in college--beaten at home in the third round by an inferior team.

By now it's long time to finish up this post, and all further writing about my Terps soccer fandom, with this:
https://acrobat.com/#d=wq3-SN5HnklixaoSqTjL8Q

It's a scene I wrote last winter for a short-play contest about D.C.-area sports. I actually didn't finish it in time to submit it, though. Eventually, I'll write a post about missed opportunities, risk/reward, and the agony/ecstacy of a soccer match. Until then, you have these few pages--relics from a time when I thought I could possibly try to be a playwright.

A Turkey(less) Trot at Coney Island

A month after our triumphs at the Bay Ridge 5K, we took the long train ride out to Coney Island to try our luck on the boardwalk for the 6^th Annual Turkey Trot 5K (the entry fee to which benefited no charity or benevolent cause.) Though closed for the season, Coney Island still offered surf, sand, and Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs. And, of course, the opportunity to punish ourselves for three miles along a windy wooden walkway populated by curious and obstructive onlookers. 

Run (sort of) Far, Run (sort of) Fast: The Story of a 5K in BK

A chilly Sunday morning, and in a few hours, a road race. None of this was new to me, but for my companions, this would be their first 5K run. Having broken in their running shoes with a few neighborhood jogs, they were ready to test their mettle along the Bay Ridge waterfront for the 13^th Annual Race Against Violence put on by the Women Against Violence, a non-profit organization that educates, lobbies, and raises awareness on domestic violence issues. We would be joined by my friend (and fellow runner) Helly. But first, we had our journey to far Brooklyn.  

Soccer, Terps Soccer

After listening to the Maryland men's soccer team defeat the Tar Heels of UNC for the ACC tournament crown, I thought I might wax nostalgic about supporting this team throughout my four years in College Park.  Well, it looks like my friend Jason had the same idea and beat me to it on his own blog (which you should definitely follow.)  I, however, will post something I wrote up around this time last year (and would have posted to a blog if I'd had one)--when I took advantage of the opportunity to watch the Terps on the road in the postseason.

December 2009

So let's discuss my fanatic devotion to the Maryland Men's soccer team.  Actually, that can remain just a statement of fact—no need for dissection or analysis.  But, let me take you back to the origins of this peculiar affection ...

It was the second week of September 2004, about two weeks after I arrived in College Park.  I read in The Diamondback (the school paper) that the university would be hosting two season-open soccer games—the first of which would be played against the number one team in the nation, St. John's.  The Terrapins were ranked second in the pre-season poll.  So, it took me all of a second to decide that yes, I would like to watch  a match-up of the best two soccer teams in the country, for free, just a five minute walk from my dorm.  A little more research led me to discover the enticing back story of this game: in the national semi-finals the season before, the Red Storm (formerly Redmen) had eliminated the Terps.  So, now this high-profile game was suffused with drama, revenge, and a history of bad blood between the two sides—I had to be there.

And so, I trotted down to the track-ringed stadium that next Friday evening.  I was rather early (as I often was in those days), but already a group of students perched behind the goal in an elevated box of red seats.  I really didn't feel comfortable being in league with such dedicated fans just yet, so I took a seat in the front row to their left and watched the teams warm-up in the golden Indian summer evening.  Soon, the chairs around me filled with spectators—mostly students, who would stand during the game to overcome the horrible line-of-sight and depth-of-field issues a seat along the end line inevitably causes.  After player introductions and a tinny recording of the national anthem, the teams sprinted to their positions. 

The ball at center for the Terps ... and the referee blows his whistle.  The action is almost instantaneous.  This game is much faster than the one I played for the last four autumns.  One pass.  He dribbles.  Another pass.  Then another into the box, to a boot already stretching out ... Shot.  Goal.  Right in front of me. 

While cheering, I checked the clock—less than thirty seconds had elapsed.  As I marveled at the brilliant passing and effortless goal—a sublime series—I already knew I was hooked.  I decided to go to every home game until I graduated.  And I did. 

And tomorrow, I'll travel to Charlottesville, Virginia to watch them play our rival and sometime nemesis, the University of Virginia, for a spot in the semi-finals of the NCAA tournament.  We won it all last year, and three years before that--I was there. So the Terrapins are something of a good team, with a good chance of winning.  Judge this fandom as stupid or insane, or a waste of time and money, or just plain sad and lame.  And occasionally I will agree with each of those ... maybe.  But the thing is, I really don't watch TV, so let me have this.

Post Script:

On Friday December 4, we marched into the lion's den, and the team itself was chewed in its very teeth.  The atmosphere was perfect at the University of Virginia, our regional rival in proximity, in recruiting, in quality of education and reputation as a premier public university, in the length of our campus mall, and (perpetually) in athletics.  UMD lacks an in-state rival (Johns Hopkins providing competition only in men's lacrosse), but to the south of the Potomac we find one ready to respond in kind.  So, with a College Cup berth on the line, the UVA fans brought an intense atmosphere, while their team brought an impressive national champion-calibre performance.  They took an early lead and we responded well, but could not finish our scoring opportunities and went into the locker room at halftime without equalizing.  

And the Maryland Crew, boisterous from the start (tailgating helps with that), moved en masse to the other side of the field to confront the Cavalier fans head on behind their net.  A cheering show-down ensued.  But on the field, the Terps looked flat in the second half.  They gave up another goal.  And then failed to connect on a penalty kick—usually a gift wrapped score.  Before the final whistle, UVA scored again, to go up 3-0.  The pretty much shut us up.  All we could do was cheer for our demoralized players as we left the scene of the massacre in the heart of enemy territory.  A perfect defeat, and I'm glad I saw it. 

There you are.  The NCAA tournament begins tomorrow, and the Terps (who play on Sunday) have a smooth path to the College Cup.  Again, I'm still not sure why I care having graduated years ago.  It has something to do with once playing soccer.  But it's also about spending those fall afternoons (and chilly winter nights) mercilessly taunting goalies while watching the best soccer team in the country pull off win after win.  And bus rides.  And a guy named Sasho.  And the fact that UMD produces soccer players that go on to have successful professional careers.  Did I mention the camaraderie?  The group singing?  The traditions?  At least Jason and Maggie get it.