Just returned from San Francisco. Loved the town. Loved the people. Miss it already. Just the thought of that waning summer sunset lingering over the Bay Bridge conjures a depression I could not aptly describe. I feel like the city is teasing me, coaxing me to return, and return I will.
So, I was flipping through this week’s Entertainment Weekly, and I come across a brief article on style and the history and popularity of the porkpie hat in pop culture. There are photos of famous people wearing the odd-shaped chapeau — Buster Keaton, Sinatra, Johnny Depp, Tom Waits. Leah Greenblatt, the writer of the article, even mentions that “Charles Mingus made it the subject of his most famous song, “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” — the “most famous” part is definitely a debatable statement. However, she left out the most famous, coolest wearer of the porkpie. She left out Lester.
“Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” was not a song dedicated to the hat itself. It was dedicated to the strange and beautiful man who donned the saucer-like lid. Mingus wrote the song shortly after Lester Young’s passing. Would it be safe to say that the popularity of the porkpie is due to the fact that a man as eccentric and nonconformist as Lester Young chose it as part of his wardrobe?
This isn’t a criticism of Greenblatt or the article. She was just doing her job, and despite the exclusion of Lester Young, it is still an interesting piece. But to have pictures of all these men and women who have donned the porkpie and not include Lester…well, that’s what Catholics would call a venial sin.
Max Roach passed away today at the age of 83, and while I could try to explain the influence he had on jazz and American music as well as on me personally, I know that I could never do him justice. Of course, Mr. Roach played with Charlie Parker, but he was a legend in his own right. I mean, think about it. It was 44 years ago that Max Roach strode on stage along with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Mingus and Bud Powell and made the kind of music that will outlast us all.
He was an innovator, a believer in truth and freedom from injustice, and one of the last of the great ones. Parker, Mingus, Powell and Gillespie have been gone many years now. Max Roach was the only one left. Every time another jazz legend passes, I feel like the spotlight on jazz dims just a little bit more.
So, this evening I turned on the TIVO and got my daily dose of Pardon The Interruption, one of the best damn shows on television in my opinion, and they were having their Toss-Up segment. One of the questions was who is more historically significant, Barry Bonds or Tiger Woods. An interesting question, I thought. But to me, it’s no contest.
The two commentators — Michael Wilbon and Dan Le Batard — had opposing views on this one. Le Batard went with Bonds and Wilbon chose Woods. Le Batard made the statement that what Woods has done isn’t at the same level as Jackie Robinson, at which point Wilbon suggested that it could possibly be at the same level. Bonds, one of the greatest players in the history of baseball, the man who broke the most heralded record in the history of sports. Or Woods, inarguably the greatest golfer to pick up a club, a man who, with 13 major championships, will inevitably tie and surpass the number of majors (18) won by Jack Nicklaus.
Okay, let’s disregard the fact that Bonds pissed on most of the greatness of his career with steroid laced urine. When it comes to the most historically significant, it’s not even close. Bonds may have broken the greatest record in sports, but Henry Aaron broke the record under the most strenuous of circumstances. Aaron’s breaking of the record will forever be more significant than Bonds or even Alex Rodriguez’s if he makes it to that point. Though Bonds likes to play the race-card (and in some remote instances, he has a right to), what he had to go through, some of which he brought upon himself, and what Aaron had to go through are leagues apart.
Woods, on the other hand, had to do almost the exact same thing Jackie Robinson had to do. It may appear that the obstacles were not as high or that there were not as many, but there were plenty there. Woods basically stepped into a white man’s sport and was not only competitive, but dominated the sport in a way that no one could have ever imagined. Plus, he is still in his prime. With good health and a determination that doesn’t wither, there’s no telling how far he could go. Baseball was never a white man’s sport. It was a sport in which several rich white men came to an agreement to exclude black players. But there were black players. Many of them. They were never told they couldn’t play baseball. They were never told they were not good enough or smart enough to play the game. They were only told that they were not good enough or smart enough to play with white players.
Golf, on the other hand, was the sport of the elite, the affluent. It was and still is the sport of exclusivity. When I was in high school, a man was giving a speech to our math class. I can’t remember what he was speaking about because he was a droner and I was barely paying attention. At one point, I barely heard him say, “You really don’t see black people on golf courses — unless they’re caddies.” After making the statement, he looked towards the rear of the room where I was sitting and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He rushed up to me and began to apologize vociferously. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I sat there in shock. Not because of what he said. It was because I hadn’t really heard what he said. It was only after his stringent apology that I reran the previous moments through my head. I ran them through my head over and over again. It was at this point that I found myself getting angrier and angrier. I don’t think I was angry because of what he said. I knew nothing about golf and to tell the truth, whenever I was flipping past it on Sunday afternoons on the T.V., all I saw were white men.
What made me angry about the man’s statement was the implication. To me he was implying that this was not a sport for black men. Black men carried the bags perhaps but they did not play the game. Why not? It was just a game like any other. Are we not good enough? Stupid golf. Who would want to play that game anyway? I stewed about that for a long time.
Then Tiger Woods came upon the scene and the sport was never the same. It wasn’t a white man’s sport after all. It was a man’s sport (and woman’s). And when the doors were opened and Tiger stepped it, it became his sport. The historical significance of a Barry Bonds pales in comparison to that of a Tiger Woods. Like Robinson, Woods had to endure the exclusion, the threats of death and violence, and like Robinson, Woods endured. Unlike Robinson, who is probably considered to be the most historically significant figure in sports, Woods will most likely be considered both historically significant AND the greatest golfer in the history of the game.
I wonder where that man is now. The one who said black men were caddies and nothing more when it came to golf. I wonder if it really flipped his wig when he saw Tiger sauntering down the fairway, scribbling onto his scorecard, his white caddy trailing behind him.
Yet, I found this to be extremely cool. Apparently, someone took The Godfather script (the actual words) and made the famous portrait of The Godfather using the words. It sounds confusing, but click on the link below and you will see what I mean. Click on the image to enlarge and you can see the individual words. No telling how long it took this person, but kudos.