On the eve of the first World Series game ever to be played in Texas, there is much consternation at the House That Special Purpose Entities Built. Major League Baseball has announced that if the weather is nice, it will intervene and order the roof open for game 3. While I have major problems with a sports league making such a mandate, there is a case to be made for it. Essentially, we're caught in a prisoner's dilemma.
Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that every team in Major League Baseball has a retractable roof. If you accept the premise, which is tough to refute, that baseball played outdoors is better than baseball played indoors, then the best situation for everyone is for all roofs to be open all the time. In any given city, however, the best situation is to keep your own stadium's roof shut for home games because it will allow your team's fans to have a greater effect on the game. So while optimizing overall utility, or happiness, or whatever, for all baseball fans requires roofs to be open, teams acting in their own interests will always act unilaterally to maximize individual payoffs, leading to a suboptimal outcome.
If its participants maximize their own utility, the prisoner's dilemma must end in a suboptimal outcome, unless there is an outside authority to enforce cooperation. Enter Bud Selig. John Nash would be proud.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Plato vs. Aristotle in the World Series
More than ever before, this year's World Series is not just a clash of two teams but a clash of opposing philosophies on the playoffs. You could say that this debate goes all the way back to the original Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon, Plato and Aristotle.
I've always enjoyed the fact that we have many different ways of crowning a champion. College basketball gives 64 teams a shot at the title, while college football pits the top two teams against each other (and was entirely determined by a vote until a few years ago). What I think is regrettable is that since more playoffs bring more money, there is a seemingly irreversible trend toward having more teams participate in the postseason. Some people enjoy the excitement of expanded playoffs, while others think that it's a poor way of choosing a champion. Which begs the question: just what is a champion?
One of Plato's most important ideas was the theory of forms. He believed that there existed a world outside of space and time that held universals, or archetypes, and that what we experience in our own existence is just an approximation of what exists in the world of forms. The most common example used is that of a chair. Plato said that when we call something a chair, we do so because it has "chairness"; that is, it calls to mind the ideal form of a chair. We will never experience a true chair, only our own earthly approximations of a chair.
Aristotle thought differently. He said that if something is made of wood (or something else suitable for making a chair) and is in a shape such that it can be sat on, then it's a chair. There are no forms; the particular is the thing.
So to Aristotle, the champion of a sports league is probably the team that walks away with the trophy. But to Plato, the true champion exists in the world of forms, and playoffs should tell us which team best exemplifies this ideal.
Once upon a time, the best team in each league won a trip to the World Series. Starting in 1969, each league was split up into an east and west division, whose champions would play in a league championship series. In 1995 the number of playoff teams was doubled once again, as a central division was added and a wild card slot was awarded to the team with the best record that did not win its division.
Those who take a Platonic view believe that the team that wins the most games is most likely to be the "true" champion, just as a larger sample size yields a greater chance that an observed result is the "true" result.
The wild card has greatly increased the chances that a team that has demonstrated itself to be not as good as a division rival can still have a shot at the title. Luck, and other factors, can account for 2 or three game differences between a division winner and its nearest rival, but the 22-game deficit with which the 1998 Red Sox won the wild card is pretty clear cut. Ditto the 2001 Athletics, who finished 14 games behind the Mariners. Of course, neither of these teams had much success in the postseason, but what are we to say about the 1997 and 2003 Marlins, who won the World Series despite finishing behind the Braves by 9 and 10 games, respectively?
Well, that depends on where you're coming from. Someone sharing Plato's views would probably argue that a long season is a better determination of the champion than a short playoff, but an Aristotelian would argue that a champion is whatever Major League Baseball says it is.
Which brings us to this year's World Series. Throughout the year, the Chicago White Sox have displayed quite a bit of what Plato might call "championhood." All year they have had one of the two best records in the league, and they have been solid in every aspect of play (hitting for average, hitting for power, baserunning, pitching, and defense). Plato would be proud.
The Houston Astros, as has been pointed out, have been built for the postseason. They have three dominating pitchers, a solid bullpen, and an almost unhittable closer carrying a team that is proficient but not dangerous with the bat. Actually, even proficiency took a while to develop. When the Astros started 15-30, and during some offensive droughts that were spread through the season, they routinely wasted great pitching performances by scoring one run or fewer. Though they had the eighth-best record in baseball during the regular season, if they prevail in the Series they will have done everything Aristotelians require to call them a champion, namely winning eleven postseason games.
So, by rooting for a participant in this year's World Series you're actually participating in a philosophical debate that has been argued for centuries.
Applying Greek philosophy to baseball may sound far-fetched, but actually it's quite appropriate. You see, Plato was quite a baseball fan, and the game inspired some of his most important ideas.
"Gee, Mr. Peabody, I didn't know that Plato watched baseball!"
"Why yes, Sherman. Surely you've heard of the...allegory of the dugout?"
I've always enjoyed the fact that we have many different ways of crowning a champion. College basketball gives 64 teams a shot at the title, while college football pits the top two teams against each other (and was entirely determined by a vote until a few years ago). What I think is regrettable is that since more playoffs bring more money, there is a seemingly irreversible trend toward having more teams participate in the postseason. Some people enjoy the excitement of expanded playoffs, while others think that it's a poor way of choosing a champion. Which begs the question: just what is a champion?
One of Plato's most important ideas was the theory of forms. He believed that there existed a world outside of space and time that held universals, or archetypes, and that what we experience in our own existence is just an approximation of what exists in the world of forms. The most common example used is that of a chair. Plato said that when we call something a chair, we do so because it has "chairness"; that is, it calls to mind the ideal form of a chair. We will never experience a true chair, only our own earthly approximations of a chair.
Aristotle thought differently. He said that if something is made of wood (or something else suitable for making a chair) and is in a shape such that it can be sat on, then it's a chair. There are no forms; the particular is the thing.
So to Aristotle, the champion of a sports league is probably the team that walks away with the trophy. But to Plato, the true champion exists in the world of forms, and playoffs should tell us which team best exemplifies this ideal.
Once upon a time, the best team in each league won a trip to the World Series. Starting in 1969, each league was split up into an east and west division, whose champions would play in a league championship series. In 1995 the number of playoff teams was doubled once again, as a central division was added and a wild card slot was awarded to the team with the best record that did not win its division.
Those who take a Platonic view believe that the team that wins the most games is most likely to be the "true" champion, just as a larger sample size yields a greater chance that an observed result is the "true" result.
The wild card has greatly increased the chances that a team that has demonstrated itself to be not as good as a division rival can still have a shot at the title. Luck, and other factors, can account for 2 or three game differences between a division winner and its nearest rival, but the 22-game deficit with which the 1998 Red Sox won the wild card is pretty clear cut. Ditto the 2001 Athletics, who finished 14 games behind the Mariners. Of course, neither of these teams had much success in the postseason, but what are we to say about the 1997 and 2003 Marlins, who won the World Series despite finishing behind the Braves by 9 and 10 games, respectively?
Well, that depends on where you're coming from. Someone sharing Plato's views would probably argue that a long season is a better determination of the champion than a short playoff, but an Aristotelian would argue that a champion is whatever Major League Baseball says it is.
Which brings us to this year's World Series. Throughout the year, the Chicago White Sox have displayed quite a bit of what Plato might call "championhood." All year they have had one of the two best records in the league, and they have been solid in every aspect of play (hitting for average, hitting for power, baserunning, pitching, and defense). Plato would be proud.
The Houston Astros, as has been pointed out, have been built for the postseason. They have three dominating pitchers, a solid bullpen, and an almost unhittable closer carrying a team that is proficient but not dangerous with the bat. Actually, even proficiency took a while to develop. When the Astros started 15-30, and during some offensive droughts that were spread through the season, they routinely wasted great pitching performances by scoring one run or fewer. Though they had the eighth-best record in baseball during the regular season, if they prevail in the Series they will have done everything Aristotelians require to call them a champion, namely winning eleven postseason games.
So, by rooting for a participant in this year's World Series you're actually participating in a philosophical debate that has been argued for centuries.
Applying Greek philosophy to baseball may sound far-fetched, but actually it's quite appropriate. You see, Plato was quite a baseball fan, and the game inspired some of his most important ideas.
"Gee, Mr. Peabody, I didn't know that Plato watched baseball!"
"Why yes, Sherman. Surely you've heard of the...allegory of the dugout?"
Monday, October 10, 2005
The Southwest Parable
I saw the most fascinating commercial yesterday. It came from Southwest Airlines and urged viewers to go to Set Love Free and join the fight against the Wright Amendment. For those who don't know, the Wright Amendment is a piece of legislation that has limited the ability of Southwest to fly from its home airport of Dallas Love Field. As the other carriers left for DFW Airport, Southwest was left with Love all to itself, which caused a backlash from the major airlines that manifested itself in legislation banning interstate flights from Love. As enacted, the amendment allowed flights to and from the states surrounding Texas, and it has since been expanded to a few more states.
Just as the natural enemy of the hole is the pile, the natural enemy of the corporation is the government. Government intervention has always played a role in the fortunes of business, but how fatal can it be? The following story is for anyone who thinks that "things would be different if only we could get Uncle Sam off our backs":
Back when the earth was young, airlines operated much differently than they do today. There were a few carriers, and the government told them where they would fly and how much they would charge. It was nice--airlines made some good money and lived a very comfortable, color-by-numbers existence.
Enter Southwest Airlines. Southwest began operations in Dallas in 1971 after fighting (for 12 years) litigation intended to put it out of business. It aimed to become a low-cost carrier for the state of Texas, but its purpose was not fully realized until the Airline Deregulation Act turned the airline industry on its ear in 1978. The act subjected airlines to market forces, which prompted markedly different responses from Southwest and the rest of the airlines.
Most airlines sought to return to the stability they had seen under regulation. They organized themselves into hub-and-spoke patterns that gave each major airline a dominant territory and allowed it to (more or less) dictate prices within that region. Sometimes new carriers would enter and serve the same routes. Sometimes aggressive pricing and airport rules would drive them away; sometimes they would stay and cause a drop in prices. At any rate, the hub-and-spoke system allowed airlines to retain some of the comfort regulation had given them.
While government intervention was ending for other airlines, it was just beginning for Southwest. Regulation was a welcome current that lifted all planes, but the Wright Amendment was intended to keep only Southwest down. But rather than flee from Love Field (which is located in the heart of Dallas as opposed to DFW's suburban location), Southwest embraced it. It has incorporated the heart into its marketing communications, and it also chose the ticker symbol "LUV" when it joined the New York Stock Exchange.
Rather than trying to mirror the days of regulation, Southwest decided to compete in a new way. Southwest went from city to city rather than using hubs, and it stayed away from the behemoth airports that other airlines were flocking to. This, in addition to Southwest's using only 737 aircraft, led to quick turnaround times and high utilization. The airline also eschewed travel agents and frills and pursued an aggressive fuel hedging strategy in allowing itself to compete on cost and offer the lowest fares in the industry.
Air travel was naturally hit hard by the events of September 11, 2001. After flights were grounded for days after 9/11, the struggling airlines were bailed out by Congress through a $15 billion financial aid package.
So, all the airlines should have vivid memories about how the government has affected their operations. Hub-and-spoke carriers will have fond memories of how the government brought them guaranteed profits in the era of regulation and then gave them free money when their ability to serve customers was called into question. And Southwest will emit a distinctive scowl as it thinks about how the Wright Amendment has, to this day, hampered its business at its flagship airport.
The effect of government intervention on the airline industry is clear. And yet, it doesn't correlate with financial results. The "big" carriers have been devouring cash for years, and no amount of money from Congress is about to change their dire collective outlook. Southwest has been profitable for 32 straight years, despite government and competitors trying to keep it down. Southwest was delighted when deregulation came, and it did not need the 2001 bailout.
It’s not uncommon for businesses to view the interference of the government as a key factor in determining success or failure. Recently, the Sarbanes-Oxley Act, an overambitious attempt to correct the wrongs of Enron et al., has become the whipping boy of businesspeople, who say that it’s hurting the ability of smaller businesses to keep up (compliance costs resulting from the act are really high). While legislation certainly plays a role, the example shown by the airlines proves that it’s not deterministic. The bigger factor (and it's not even close) is the ability of a company to adapt and to reach customers, which arguably could be retarded by the government help that many firms would love to have.
The kind of thing that Southwest has that allows it to prosper goes by many names: a business model, core competencies, synergy, a mission, a vision. Let's just call it love. And to paraphrase one of history's greatest philosophers:
If I have planes and routes and cash,
And I have help from Uncle Sam,
And I have Uncle Sam holding down the other guy,
But have not love, then I have nothing.
Just as the natural enemy of the hole is the pile, the natural enemy of the corporation is the government. Government intervention has always played a role in the fortunes of business, but how fatal can it be? The following story is for anyone who thinks that "things would be different if only we could get Uncle Sam off our backs":
Back when the earth was young, airlines operated much differently than they do today. There were a few carriers, and the government told them where they would fly and how much they would charge. It was nice--airlines made some good money and lived a very comfortable, color-by-numbers existence.
Enter Southwest Airlines. Southwest began operations in Dallas in 1971 after fighting (for 12 years) litigation intended to put it out of business. It aimed to become a low-cost carrier for the state of Texas, but its purpose was not fully realized until the Airline Deregulation Act turned the airline industry on its ear in 1978. The act subjected airlines to market forces, which prompted markedly different responses from Southwest and the rest of the airlines.
Most airlines sought to return to the stability they had seen under regulation. They organized themselves into hub-and-spoke patterns that gave each major airline a dominant territory and allowed it to (more or less) dictate prices within that region. Sometimes new carriers would enter and serve the same routes. Sometimes aggressive pricing and airport rules would drive them away; sometimes they would stay and cause a drop in prices. At any rate, the hub-and-spoke system allowed airlines to retain some of the comfort regulation had given them.
While government intervention was ending for other airlines, it was just beginning for Southwest. Regulation was a welcome current that lifted all planes, but the Wright Amendment was intended to keep only Southwest down. But rather than flee from Love Field (which is located in the heart of Dallas as opposed to DFW's suburban location), Southwest embraced it. It has incorporated the heart into its marketing communications, and it also chose the ticker symbol "LUV" when it joined the New York Stock Exchange.
Rather than trying to mirror the days of regulation, Southwest decided to compete in a new way. Southwest went from city to city rather than using hubs, and it stayed away from the behemoth airports that other airlines were flocking to. This, in addition to Southwest's using only 737 aircraft, led to quick turnaround times and high utilization. The airline also eschewed travel agents and frills and pursued an aggressive fuel hedging strategy in allowing itself to compete on cost and offer the lowest fares in the industry.
Air travel was naturally hit hard by the events of September 11, 2001. After flights were grounded for days after 9/11, the struggling airlines were bailed out by Congress through a $15 billion financial aid package.
So, all the airlines should have vivid memories about how the government has affected their operations. Hub-and-spoke carriers will have fond memories of how the government brought them guaranteed profits in the era of regulation and then gave them free money when their ability to serve customers was called into question. And Southwest will emit a distinctive scowl as it thinks about how the Wright Amendment has, to this day, hampered its business at its flagship airport.
The effect of government intervention on the airline industry is clear. And yet, it doesn't correlate with financial results. The "big" carriers have been devouring cash for years, and no amount of money from Congress is about to change their dire collective outlook. Southwest has been profitable for 32 straight years, despite government and competitors trying to keep it down. Southwest was delighted when deregulation came, and it did not need the 2001 bailout.
It’s not uncommon for businesses to view the interference of the government as a key factor in determining success or failure. Recently, the Sarbanes-Oxley Act, an overambitious attempt to correct the wrongs of Enron et al., has become the whipping boy of businesspeople, who say that it’s hurting the ability of smaller businesses to keep up (compliance costs resulting from the act are really high). While legislation certainly plays a role, the example shown by the airlines proves that it’s not deterministic. The bigger factor (and it's not even close) is the ability of a company to adapt and to reach customers, which arguably could be retarded by the government help that many firms would love to have.
The kind of thing that Southwest has that allows it to prosper goes by many names: a business model, core competencies, synergy, a mission, a vision. Let's just call it love. And to paraphrase one of history's greatest philosophers:
If I have planes and routes and cash,
And I have help from Uncle Sam,
And I have Uncle Sam holding down the other guy,
But have not love, then I have nothing.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
A Film Industry for the 21st Century
Last week, I was thinking about going to see The Aristocrats. I've always been somewhat interested in comedic theory, and the subject matter of that film, plus the people appearing in it, have made it one of those films that I have made a point to go see.
But I haven't gone to see it yet. Two things have stood in my way. The first is the fact that, at the time of its initial Austin release, the film was showing only in one inconveniently located theater at an inconvenient time. The second, and most important, is the frustration I experienced with the thought that I even have to go to a theater to see this movie.
With all of the problems the film industry has been experiencing lately, there's been a lot of talk about the problems that have been created by DVDs and home theaters, as if movie studios are locked into the current business model forever. Like record companies, film companies find themselves at a crossroads, and like record companies, they will continue their downward spiral unless they try to adjust to consumers rather than dictating to them.
It seems to me that the lure of the theater has always been twofold: it is an experience and it’s a deliverer of content. For many movies, primarily action, horror, science fiction, and the like, the theater provides the ideal setting in which to experience a film. It also provides a destination for couples and for groups that has been a part of American culture for generations. But in many other circumstances, the movie theater has always been the only way to see a film that you really don't care where you see it.
Given that theaters have played such a large role in the development of the movie industry, it's understandable that any noteworthy film must pass through them. But looking at it with a fresh set of eyes, it's peculiar that if, heaven forbid, you want to see Must Love Dogs, you must choose between spending a ton of money to see it on the big screen and waiting several months for it to come out on DVD. What value does the theater add for a film like that, or for countless other films that are making pointless pit stops at movie theaters? If we could rebuild film distribution from scratch it would probably look completely different than the system we have arrived at. The good news is that we can still get there in a few steps:
1) Destigmatize direct-to-video releases
2) Release DVDs more quickly, in many cases bypassing theaters altogether
3) Align film promotion with distribution
4) Make theaters fun again
In 2004, the big six movie studios made profits of almost $14 billion on the video releases of their films and almost $16 billion on television licensing, while losing over $2 billion at the theaters (admittedly, much of the profit/loss mix probably has to do with wacky Hollywood cost accounting, but at any rate theaters have certainly declined recently). It's clear that theaters aren't working the way they should, and I think the most obvious solution is for films that aren't well served by theaters simply to go straight to DVD. In the new system, films that do not require massive sound systems and are not likely to enjoy a two-month theater run get to premiere at Blockbuster.
The obvious problem that exists with this proposal is that "direct-to-video" has always been synonymous with "clunker." This really shouldn't be--there are some films that are made for theaters and some that aren't. But if you think eschewing a theatrical run is a death knell, take a look at Disney. After releasing successful animated films, its sequels have primarily gone direct to video. After Pocahontas became a hit in theaters, Disney made rental/home video hits out of Pocahontas: Journey to a New World, Pocahontas Down Under, Pocahontas and the Ghastly Ghost Town, Pocahontas Meets the Jetsons, Pocahontas vs. The Harlem Globetrotters, and Pocahontas2K.
The key is to expand the public's perception of what qualifies as a direct-to-DVD release. In order to help transition consumers to a new way of viewing movie rentals, studios should start things off with a near-blockbuster, a comedy or drama starring a Cameron Diaz or a George Clooney, with essentially the same promotion a big-time theater release would receive.
A distribution system that has shifted in favor of rentals means some big changes for film promotion. For theater releases, it’s all about opening weekend, which almost always establishes a high point for revenues and precedes a geometric decline over the following weeks. Presumably, a film that’s starting out in rental outlets can be a little smarter about promotion. Rather than an all-out media blitz, studios could use a phased approach to advertising and television appearances, staying longer in consumers’ minds and retaining the ability to adapt promotions to changing perceptions and other new developments.
Whatever the future movie distribution arrangement may be, it is obvious that movie theaters will need to make some changes. Considering the cost, the distance, and the cell phones and talking, movie theaters are beginning to lose the battle with home theaters. In a word, they’re boring. To become the meeting places they used to be, they should take a page from drive-ins, Rocky Horror, and other innovative theater concepts of years past. Theaters that serve meals, invite participation, and show old movies in new ways are doing quite well, and they could well be more sustainable than a stale viewing experience that is entirely dependent on Hollywood’s ability to produce movies that are not themselves stale.
Every year, Hollywood gets together, hands out some statues, and pats itself on the back, proclaiming the love that everyone else has for what they do. That love, though, is not a given, at least not any longer. If box office receipts are any indication, the way consumers want to experience movies is changing, and movie studios can position themselves well for the future if they stop pointing fingers and start listening to movie watchers.
But I haven't gone to see it yet. Two things have stood in my way. The first is the fact that, at the time of its initial Austin release, the film was showing only in one inconveniently located theater at an inconvenient time. The second, and most important, is the frustration I experienced with the thought that I even have to go to a theater to see this movie.
With all of the problems the film industry has been experiencing lately, there's been a lot of talk about the problems that have been created by DVDs and home theaters, as if movie studios are locked into the current business model forever. Like record companies, film companies find themselves at a crossroads, and like record companies, they will continue their downward spiral unless they try to adjust to consumers rather than dictating to them.
It seems to me that the lure of the theater has always been twofold: it is an experience and it’s a deliverer of content. For many movies, primarily action, horror, science fiction, and the like, the theater provides the ideal setting in which to experience a film. It also provides a destination for couples and for groups that has been a part of American culture for generations. But in many other circumstances, the movie theater has always been the only way to see a film that you really don't care where you see it.
Given that theaters have played such a large role in the development of the movie industry, it's understandable that any noteworthy film must pass through them. But looking at it with a fresh set of eyes, it's peculiar that if, heaven forbid, you want to see Must Love Dogs, you must choose between spending a ton of money to see it on the big screen and waiting several months for it to come out on DVD. What value does the theater add for a film like that, or for countless other films that are making pointless pit stops at movie theaters? If we could rebuild film distribution from scratch it would probably look completely different than the system we have arrived at. The good news is that we can still get there in a few steps:
1) Destigmatize direct-to-video releases
2) Release DVDs more quickly, in many cases bypassing theaters altogether
3) Align film promotion with distribution
4) Make theaters fun again
In 2004, the big six movie studios made profits of almost $14 billion on the video releases of their films and almost $16 billion on television licensing, while losing over $2 billion at the theaters (admittedly, much of the profit/loss mix probably has to do with wacky Hollywood cost accounting, but at any rate theaters have certainly declined recently). It's clear that theaters aren't working the way they should, and I think the most obvious solution is for films that aren't well served by theaters simply to go straight to DVD. In the new system, films that do not require massive sound systems and are not likely to enjoy a two-month theater run get to premiere at Blockbuster.
The obvious problem that exists with this proposal is that "direct-to-video" has always been synonymous with "clunker." This really shouldn't be--there are some films that are made for theaters and some that aren't. But if you think eschewing a theatrical run is a death knell, take a look at Disney. After releasing successful animated films, its sequels have primarily gone direct to video. After Pocahontas became a hit in theaters, Disney made rental/home video hits out of Pocahontas: Journey to a New World, Pocahontas Down Under, Pocahontas and the Ghastly Ghost Town, Pocahontas Meets the Jetsons, Pocahontas vs. The Harlem Globetrotters, and Pocahontas2K.
The key is to expand the public's perception of what qualifies as a direct-to-DVD release. In order to help transition consumers to a new way of viewing movie rentals, studios should start things off with a near-blockbuster, a comedy or drama starring a Cameron Diaz or a George Clooney, with essentially the same promotion a big-time theater release would receive.
A distribution system that has shifted in favor of rentals means some big changes for film promotion. For theater releases, it’s all about opening weekend, which almost always establishes a high point for revenues and precedes a geometric decline over the following weeks. Presumably, a film that’s starting out in rental outlets can be a little smarter about promotion. Rather than an all-out media blitz, studios could use a phased approach to advertising and television appearances, staying longer in consumers’ minds and retaining the ability to adapt promotions to changing perceptions and other new developments.
Whatever the future movie distribution arrangement may be, it is obvious that movie theaters will need to make some changes. Considering the cost, the distance, and the cell phones and talking, movie theaters are beginning to lose the battle with home theaters. In a word, they’re boring. To become the meeting places they used to be, they should take a page from drive-ins, Rocky Horror, and other innovative theater concepts of years past. Theaters that serve meals, invite participation, and show old movies in new ways are doing quite well, and they could well be more sustainable than a stale viewing experience that is entirely dependent on Hollywood’s ability to produce movies that are not themselves stale.
Every year, Hollywood gets together, hands out some statues, and pats itself on the back, proclaiming the love that everyone else has for what they do. That love, though, is not a given, at least not any longer. If box office receipts are any indication, the way consumers want to experience movies is changing, and movie studios can position themselves well for the future if they stop pointing fingers and start listening to movie watchers.
Sunday, September 4, 2005
Three Days in September
This weekend I was lucky enough to see all three games the Cardinals played against the Astros in Houston.
Remember when Mr. Burns wanted to charge the town of Springfield for power so he built a big sun blocker to keep the town in perpetual darkness? I can’t help but think that C. M. Burns was brought in as a consultant on the construction of Enron Field. Like the sun blocker, the roof at Minute Maid Park is capable of moving but only serves the purpose of keeping the sun out. The last seven games I have attended in Houston have all featured a closed roof. It seems like attaching to your stadium a cool thing like a “retractable roof” comes with a responsibility, namely, to open it every now and again. Otherwise what you’ve got is a plain old roof. The sun is nice to have during a ballgame. That’s all I’m saying.
Friday, September 2, 2005
The first game looked to be the most lopsided matchup. Mark Mulder went for the Cardinals against Ezequiel Astacio, and he was about as perfect as you can be while giving up two runs. In the second inning, two bloop hits and an error led to the two runs. In the third, Mulder issued only a walk. In the fourth through eighth, Mulder retired all eighteen batters consecutively, and the ball never left the infield. For the Cards, hits were steady, but the Astros were able to work around much of the damage. Astacio allowed eight hits in 5 1/3 innings, but he walked none, and the three runs he allowed came from opposite field home runs to Molina (solo) and Edmonds (two runs). When the eighth inning ended, the Cardinals had three runs on ten hits, and the Astros had two runs on two hits.
Enter Jason Isringhausen. The first batter he faced was Morgan Ensberg, who homered to give Houston three runs on three hits. The crazy thing about it is that I had a bad feeling before Izzy came in. Not that he’s an unreliable closer, but you wonder about removing Mulder from his masterful appearance and bringing in someone who hasn’t had a lot of work lately. But he did end the inning with two strikeouts and a ground out to send the game into extras.
In the top of the tenth, Pujols led off with a double, was bunted to third by Edmonds, and was brought home by John Rodriguez on one of the gutsiest squeeze play calls I’ve ever seen. John Rodriguez? Sometimes I think La Russa does these things just to entertain himself.
In the bottom of the inning, Ausmus went yard on Isringhausen. Blown save number two, essentially.
The Cards were retired in order in the eleventh and twelfth. And they handed the ball to Cal Eldred for the bottom halves of those innings, which made me rest easy. I’ve always liked Eldred. I think part of it is his story, as profiled in Three Nights in August. Part of it is seeing him at spring training last year. I was standing about five feet from him, on the other side of a chain link fence, watching him endure a few autograph hounds. One guy was carting around a big box, in which he had multiple 8 x 10 photographs of each player. He set down his box right by Eldred, fished around for a while, and dug out a picture of Eldred wearing a Chicago White Sox uniform. He rolled it up and passed it through the fence, and when he got it back it begrudgingly bore the signature of one of the newest Cardinals. Spring training taught me what an absolute beating autograph signing is, and I’ve always respected guys who do a lot of it. (Kudos to David Eckstein for going above and beyond the call of duty during this series--joking with fans during throwing drills and signing after doing some stretching.) Also, I think Eldred’s a very consistent reliever. And he got the job done, working around a leadoff double in the 11th and, after giving up a single in the 12th, benefiting from Pujols’s read-the-bunt-play-perfectly-and-sprint-and-slide-toward-the-ball-and-field-and-make-a-perfect-throw-to-get-the-lead-runner greatness.
Edmonds led off the 13th with a home run. In the bottom, Ensberg led off with a single off Tavarez but was forced out at second on a very bad call on a sacrifice bunt play. Lane singled, and Tavarez intentionally walked Vizcaino to load the bases for Orlando Palmeiro. La Russa brought in King, who plunked in the tying run and was immediately taken out. Reyes then got Ausmus to pop out but allowed the winning run to score on a Bruntlett single to left. It was a very strange half inning that capped off probably the greatest game I’ve ever seen.
Saturday, September 3, 2005
Today was one of those days that made me think back a ways. In 1985, a guy named John Tudor joined the St. Louis Cardinals. After a 1-7 start, he finished the year 21-8, finishing the year almost unhittable. In most seasons, almost unhittable will get you a Cy Young award, but unfortunately for Tudor a kid named Dwight Gooden was genuinely unhittable that year. Tudor’s ERA was a sublime 1.93; Gooden’s was an unreal 1.53.
What John Tudor was unable to do in 1985, Carpenter might be able to do in 2005. No Cards pitcher has won a Cy Young since Bob Gibson, but Carp’s the real deal. I was there for his brilliant 2-0 victory over Andy Petitte back in June. Before today's game I did a little research and discovered that the Astros had scored one run off him in 24 innings this year. I had a chance to see Chris Carpenter win his 20th game and take a big lead in the Cy Young race, but he would have to get past his old mentor Roger Clemens.
The Cardinals used to have incredible trouble with Roger Clemens, until game 7 of the 2004 NLCS. Since then they have wins in 3 of 4 games against him, and in the one they lost they scored four runs on him.
Carpenter worked around trouble in the first and second, getting two guys out between third and home and allowing just one run to score despite allowing four straight hits (and three straight doubles) across the two innings. The Cardinals took a 2-1 lead in an inning in which only Pujols’s lead off single left the infield. A walk, an error, and a swinging bunt single created the rest of the damage.
Clemens left after five because of a hamstring injury. Berkman’s sixth inning homer took him off the hook for the loss, but Cardinal runs in the 7th and 8th gave Carpenter all he would need. He went the distance, retiring the final 11. Hugs all around as Carpenter set himself further apart from the rest of the field. He is now 3-0 against Clemens and Dontrelle Willis.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
The usually hittable Wandy Rodriguez faced the minimum number of batters through five innings, thanks to a couple nifty snags of hard hit balls by Willy Tavares. Meanwhile, the resurgent Jason Marquis gave up a homer to Lance Berkman in the fourth.
In the top of the sixth, Rodriguez walked the Nunez, leading off the inning from the 7 spot, and hit Luna with a pitch. The baserunners were advanced by a Marquis bunt and brought in by an Edmonds single.
After the Berkman homer, Marquis was nearly perfect. He gave up one hit over the last 5 1/3 and retired the last seven. In the perfect fifth and sixth, he retired two by strikeout and had four balls tapped back to him. He threw six pitches in the eighth and, oh yeah, went the distance in a 4-1 win.
Here’s my stat of the series: 26 to 16 1/3. Over the three games, Cardinals starters averaged three more innings than Astros starters. Rodriguez was the workhorse of the Astros staff with six innings pitched; Mulder, who threw eight but easily could have gone nine, was the laggard of the Cards staff.
Remember when Mr. Burns wanted to charge the town of Springfield for power so he built a big sun blocker to keep the town in perpetual darkness? I can’t help but think that C. M. Burns was brought in as a consultant on the construction of Enron Field. Like the sun blocker, the roof at Minute Maid Park is capable of moving but only serves the purpose of keeping the sun out. The last seven games I have attended in Houston have all featured a closed roof. It seems like attaching to your stadium a cool thing like a “retractable roof” comes with a responsibility, namely, to open it every now and again. Otherwise what you’ve got is a plain old roof. The sun is nice to have during a ballgame. That’s all I’m saying.
Friday, September 2, 2005
The first game looked to be the most lopsided matchup. Mark Mulder went for the Cardinals against Ezequiel Astacio, and he was about as perfect as you can be while giving up two runs. In the second inning, two bloop hits and an error led to the two runs. In the third, Mulder issued only a walk. In the fourth through eighth, Mulder retired all eighteen batters consecutively, and the ball never left the infield. For the Cards, hits were steady, but the Astros were able to work around much of the damage. Astacio allowed eight hits in 5 1/3 innings, but he walked none, and the three runs he allowed came from opposite field home runs to Molina (solo) and Edmonds (two runs). When the eighth inning ended, the Cardinals had three runs on ten hits, and the Astros had two runs on two hits.
Enter Jason Isringhausen. The first batter he faced was Morgan Ensberg, who homered to give Houston three runs on three hits. The crazy thing about it is that I had a bad feeling before Izzy came in. Not that he’s an unreliable closer, but you wonder about removing Mulder from his masterful appearance and bringing in someone who hasn’t had a lot of work lately. But he did end the inning with two strikeouts and a ground out to send the game into extras.
In the top of the tenth, Pujols led off with a double, was bunted to third by Edmonds, and was brought home by John Rodriguez on one of the gutsiest squeeze play calls I’ve ever seen. John Rodriguez? Sometimes I think La Russa does these things just to entertain himself.
In the bottom of the inning, Ausmus went yard on Isringhausen. Blown save number two, essentially.
The Cards were retired in order in the eleventh and twelfth. And they handed the ball to Cal Eldred for the bottom halves of those innings, which made me rest easy. I’ve always liked Eldred. I think part of it is his story, as profiled in Three Nights in August. Part of it is seeing him at spring training last year. I was standing about five feet from him, on the other side of a chain link fence, watching him endure a few autograph hounds. One guy was carting around a big box, in which he had multiple 8 x 10 photographs of each player. He set down his box right by Eldred, fished around for a while, and dug out a picture of Eldred wearing a Chicago White Sox uniform. He rolled it up and passed it through the fence, and when he got it back it begrudgingly bore the signature of one of the newest Cardinals. Spring training taught me what an absolute beating autograph signing is, and I’ve always respected guys who do a lot of it. (Kudos to David Eckstein for going above and beyond the call of duty during this series--joking with fans during throwing drills and signing after doing some stretching.) Also, I think Eldred’s a very consistent reliever. And he got the job done, working around a leadoff double in the 11th and, after giving up a single in the 12th, benefiting from Pujols’s read-the-bunt-play-perfectly-and-sprint-and-slide-toward-the-ball-and-field-and-make-a-perfect-throw-to-get-the-lead-runner greatness.
Edmonds led off the 13th with a home run. In the bottom, Ensberg led off with a single off Tavarez but was forced out at second on a very bad call on a sacrifice bunt play. Lane singled, and Tavarez intentionally walked Vizcaino to load the bases for Orlando Palmeiro. La Russa brought in King, who plunked in the tying run and was immediately taken out. Reyes then got Ausmus to pop out but allowed the winning run to score on a Bruntlett single to left. It was a very strange half inning that capped off probably the greatest game I’ve ever seen.
Saturday, September 3, 2005
Today was one of those days that made me think back a ways. In 1985, a guy named John Tudor joined the St. Louis Cardinals. After a 1-7 start, he finished the year 21-8, finishing the year almost unhittable. In most seasons, almost unhittable will get you a Cy Young award, but unfortunately for Tudor a kid named Dwight Gooden was genuinely unhittable that year. Tudor’s ERA was a sublime 1.93; Gooden’s was an unreal 1.53.
What John Tudor was unable to do in 1985, Carpenter might be able to do in 2005. No Cards pitcher has won a Cy Young since Bob Gibson, but Carp’s the real deal. I was there for his brilliant 2-0 victory over Andy Petitte back in June. Before today's game I did a little research and discovered that the Astros had scored one run off him in 24 innings this year. I had a chance to see Chris Carpenter win his 20th game and take a big lead in the Cy Young race, but he would have to get past his old mentor Roger Clemens.
The Cardinals used to have incredible trouble with Roger Clemens, until game 7 of the 2004 NLCS. Since then they have wins in 3 of 4 games against him, and in the one they lost they scored four runs on him.
Carpenter worked around trouble in the first and second, getting two guys out between third and home and allowing just one run to score despite allowing four straight hits (and three straight doubles) across the two innings. The Cardinals took a 2-1 lead in an inning in which only Pujols’s lead off single left the infield. A walk, an error, and a swinging bunt single created the rest of the damage.
Clemens left after five because of a hamstring injury. Berkman’s sixth inning homer took him off the hook for the loss, but Cardinal runs in the 7th and 8th gave Carpenter all he would need. He went the distance, retiring the final 11. Hugs all around as Carpenter set himself further apart from the rest of the field. He is now 3-0 against Clemens and Dontrelle Willis.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
The usually hittable Wandy Rodriguez faced the minimum number of batters through five innings, thanks to a couple nifty snags of hard hit balls by Willy Tavares. Meanwhile, the resurgent Jason Marquis gave up a homer to Lance Berkman in the fourth.
In the top of the sixth, Rodriguez walked the Nunez, leading off the inning from the 7 spot, and hit Luna with a pitch. The baserunners were advanced by a Marquis bunt and brought in by an Edmonds single.
After the Berkman homer, Marquis was nearly perfect. He gave up one hit over the last 5 1/3 and retired the last seven. In the perfect fifth and sixth, he retired two by strikeout and had four balls tapped back to him. He threw six pitches in the eighth and, oh yeah, went the distance in a 4-1 win.
Here’s my stat of the series: 26 to 16 1/3. Over the three games, Cardinals starters averaged three more innings than Astros starters. Rodriguez was the workhorse of the Astros staff with six innings pitched; Mulder, who threw eight but easily could have gone nine, was the laggard of the Cards staff.
Saturday, September 3, 2005
What’s in your wallet? Too much money, apparently.
I just saw a noteworthy commercial. It involved Capital One and its Viking characters. As the spot opens, some sort of counselor is talking about how he’s had to get the plunderers new jobs since they can’t attack people with inferior credit cards, because everyone is now using Capital One credit cards. The scenes that follow show how inept these men are at the jobs of today: one serves ice cream to a child using his hand as a scooper, another wrecks a car as a valet, and so on. Well, I’ve got a job for them: end the disturbing proliferation of serial commercials. Use force if necessary.
In past years, we would occasionally see a commercial character that was so memorable that we were actually interested in seeing it again. Characters like the Budweiser frogs, the Energizer bunny, and the Chick-Fil-A cows made us laugh and also bled into everyday conversations in a way that justified their appearing in multiple commercials.
Lately, though, it had taken a lot less for brands to christen themselves as being worthy of serial commercials. A great example from last year was Guinness Draught. The Guinness ads all operated under the same framework: two animated, turn of the century (19th-20th) men with handlebar mustaches discuss their new invention of Guinness Draught in a bottle, and they also stumble upon other useful inventions. These discoveries are generally of something that will allow the men to enjoy their Guinness more, like a six-pack or a can opener. After announcing their discovery, the men say, “Brilliant!” and then they toast another bottle of Guinness. The ads reminded consumers of the old-timey nature of Guinness Draught, and they impressed that Guinness has been a trailblazer in the world of beer. After a while, though, they stranded off message. In one commercial, the two men are discussing the inconvenience of their telegraph machines, when one man mentions that he has invented something new: the telephone. “Brilliant!” they both say, and they drink another bottle of Guinness. The commercials started off being about the product, and they ended up being about two characters I’m not sure anybody cared about.
Same thing with Capital One. These Viking characters may have been part of delivering a product message, but I question whether their popular appeal or their connection to the brand is strong enough to make these stand-alone sequels work.
I wonder whether this is happening because of a disconnect between the creators of these commercials and their audience. I would imagine that the marketing folks and ad agency for Capital One genuinely believe that they have created something original and are proud enough that they want to show us their creation again, and again, and again. But how many conversations have you been in where somebody said, “Did you see what the Vikings did this time?”
I know a lot of ad junkies see these commercials perpetuated to see where the story goes. But to me, and I suspect to many people who watch commercials somewhat passively, if your commercial has no buzz appeal, then you’re wasting your money by drawing out a story and taking your characters further and further away from the brand.
In past years, we would occasionally see a commercial character that was so memorable that we were actually interested in seeing it again. Characters like the Budweiser frogs, the Energizer bunny, and the Chick-Fil-A cows made us laugh and also bled into everyday conversations in a way that justified their appearing in multiple commercials.
Lately, though, it had taken a lot less for brands to christen themselves as being worthy of serial commercials. A great example from last year was Guinness Draught. The Guinness ads all operated under the same framework: two animated, turn of the century (19th-20th) men with handlebar mustaches discuss their new invention of Guinness Draught in a bottle, and they also stumble upon other useful inventions. These discoveries are generally of something that will allow the men to enjoy their Guinness more, like a six-pack or a can opener. After announcing their discovery, the men say, “Brilliant!” and then they toast another bottle of Guinness. The ads reminded consumers of the old-timey nature of Guinness Draught, and they impressed that Guinness has been a trailblazer in the world of beer. After a while, though, they stranded off message. In one commercial, the two men are discussing the inconvenience of their telegraph machines, when one man mentions that he has invented something new: the telephone. “Brilliant!” they both say, and they drink another bottle of Guinness. The commercials started off being about the product, and they ended up being about two characters I’m not sure anybody cared about.
Same thing with Capital One. These Viking characters may have been part of delivering a product message, but I question whether their popular appeal or their connection to the brand is strong enough to make these stand-alone sequels work.
I wonder whether this is happening because of a disconnect between the creators of these commercials and their audience. I would imagine that the marketing folks and ad agency for Capital One genuinely believe that they have created something original and are proud enough that they want to show us their creation again, and again, and again. But how many conversations have you been in where somebody said, “Did you see what the Vikings did this time?”
I know a lot of ad junkies see these commercials perpetuated to see where the story goes. But to me, and I suspect to many people who watch commercials somewhat passively, if your commercial has no buzz appeal, then you’re wasting your money by drawing out a story and taking your characters further and further away from the brand.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
The Top 100 They Might Be Giants Songs of All Time
This list is aimed at the overlap between possibly the two smallest groups in the universe: people who can reocgnize a hundred They Might Be Giants songs and people who read my blog.
1. She’s an Angel
2. Destination Moon
3. Dinner Bell
4. Stalk of Wheat
5. Renew My Subscription
6. Finished With Lies (Mink Car version)
7. Birdhouse in Your Soul
8. Doctor Worm
9. 4 of 2
10. Broke in Two
11. Rhythm Section Want Ad
12. We’ve Got a World That Swings
13. Sensurround
14. Ana Ng
15. The House at the Top of the Tree
16. Mammal
17. Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal
18. Bangs
19. My Man
20. Reprehensible
21. Letterbox
22. Experimental Film
23. Asheville (The Orange Peel)
24. Dead
25. She was a Hotel Detective (Back to Skull)
26. Cyclops Rock
27. London (The Astoria)
28. Don’t Let’s Start
29. The Statue Got Me High
30. I Palindrome I
31. Welcome to the Jungle
32. Man, It’s So Loud in Here
33. Hollywood (West Hollywood House of Blues)
34. Flying V
35. Purple Toupee
36. No!
37. Where Your Eyes Don’t Go
38. Spine
39. Thunderbird
40. We Want a Rock
41. Finished With Lies (Live version)
42. Where Do They Make Balloons?
43. Hovering Sombrero
44. Monsters of Mud
45. Sleeping in the Flowers
46. Spiraling Shape
47. Bastard Wants to Hit Me
48. Another First Kiss
49. Sleepwalkers
50. Charleston (The Music Farm)
51. Till My Head Falls Off
52. Fun Assassin
53. Someone Keeps Moving My Chair
54. Memo to Human Resources
55. Fingertips
56. Lullaby to Nightmares
57. Metal Detector
58. Au Contraire
59. Austin (Stubb’s)
60. Feast of Lights
61. No One Knows My Plan
62. Towson (Recher Theatre)
63. My Evil Twin
64. D&W
65. It’s Not My Birthday
66. Damn Good Times
67. I Should Be Allowed to Think
68. They’ll Need a Crane
69. First Kiss
70. Subliminal
71. Drinking
72. Impossible
73. Rest Awhile
74. Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun is a Mass of Incandescent Gas) (Live version)
75. No Answer
76. Out of Jail
77. Museum of Idiots
78. We’re the Replacements
79. Meet James Ensor
80. Love is Eternity
81. Ant
82. Can You Find It?
83. Operators are Standing By
84. They Got Lost
85. All Alone
86. Nightgown of the Sullen Moon
87. Stormy Pinkness
88. Save Your Life
89. I am a Human Head
90. Am I Awake
91. Certain People I Could Name
92. New Haven (Toad’s Place)
93. On the Drag
94. Counterfeit Faker
95. Different Town
96. Your Racist Friend
97. The World’s Address
98. Columbia, SC (The Blue Note)
99. Courage the Cowardly Dog
100. Pittsburgh (Mr. Small’s Theatre)
1. She’s an Angel
2. Destination Moon
3. Dinner Bell
4. Stalk of Wheat
5. Renew My Subscription
6. Finished With Lies (Mink Car version)
7. Birdhouse in Your Soul
8. Doctor Worm
9. 4 of 2
10. Broke in Two
11. Rhythm Section Want Ad
12. We’ve Got a World That Swings
13. Sensurround
14. Ana Ng
15. The House at the Top of the Tree
16. Mammal
17. Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal
18. Bangs
19. My Man
20. Reprehensible
21. Letterbox
22. Experimental Film
23. Asheville (The Orange Peel)
24. Dead
25. She was a Hotel Detective (Back to Skull)
26. Cyclops Rock
27. London (The Astoria)
28. Don’t Let’s Start
29. The Statue Got Me High
30. I Palindrome I
31. Welcome to the Jungle
32. Man, It’s So Loud in Here
33. Hollywood (West Hollywood House of Blues)
34. Flying V
35. Purple Toupee
36. No!
37. Where Your Eyes Don’t Go
38. Spine
39. Thunderbird
40. We Want a Rock
41. Finished With Lies (Live version)
42. Where Do They Make Balloons?
43. Hovering Sombrero
44. Monsters of Mud
45. Sleeping in the Flowers
46. Spiraling Shape
47. Bastard Wants to Hit Me
48. Another First Kiss
49. Sleepwalkers
50. Charleston (The Music Farm)
51. Till My Head Falls Off
52. Fun Assassin
53. Someone Keeps Moving My Chair
54. Memo to Human Resources
55. Fingertips
56. Lullaby to Nightmares
57. Metal Detector
58. Au Contraire
59. Austin (Stubb’s)
60. Feast of Lights
61. No One Knows My Plan
62. Towson (Recher Theatre)
63. My Evil Twin
64. D&W
65. It’s Not My Birthday
66. Damn Good Times
67. I Should Be Allowed to Think
68. They’ll Need a Crane
69. First Kiss
70. Subliminal
71. Drinking
72. Impossible
73. Rest Awhile
74. Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun is a Mass of Incandescent Gas) (Live version)
75. No Answer
76. Out of Jail
77. Museum of Idiots
78. We’re the Replacements
79. Meet James Ensor
80. Love is Eternity
81. Ant
82. Can You Find It?
83. Operators are Standing By
84. They Got Lost
85. All Alone
86. Nightgown of the Sullen Moon
87. Stormy Pinkness
88. Save Your Life
89. I am a Human Head
90. Am I Awake
91. Certain People I Could Name
92. New Haven (Toad’s Place)
93. On the Drag
94. Counterfeit Faker
95. Different Town
96. Your Racist Friend
97. The World’s Address
98. Columbia, SC (The Blue Note)
99. Courage the Cowardly Dog
100. Pittsburgh (Mr. Small’s Theatre)
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