The Surprisingly Interesting Story of the Birth and Death of the Astrodome

Posted on 09 Sep 2015 by Frank Moraes

Our man from Minnesota, James Fillmore wrote a very interesting article over at his post at Twinkie Town, The Original Field Of Dreams. It’s about the creation of the Astrodome. I have a personal interest in that because the only MLB game I’ve seen outside the Bay Area was in the Astrodome — in the early 1970s: the Reds against the Astros. I knew nothing of the Astros, but I knew Johnny Bench. And I knew Pete Rose. And I probably knew other players at that time. As I recall, the Reds were a very famous team then.

The article contains all kind of information that I never knew. To start with, the team’s name was changed from the Colt 45s (Ugh!) to the Astros, following the name of the stadium, which was a hat tip to NASA being headquartered in Houston. And apparently, NASA scientists had some involvement in the project. It is an amazing thing. These kinds of things are everywhere now, but then it was cutting edge. I’ve always wondered way the first of these was made in Houston where the weather is generally good. But as Fillmore pointed out in his article: it was all about the money. One of the owners, Roy Hofheinz, was super connected to the state government — a fact that future owners would use to steal public funds for their private endeavors.

But the most interesting part of the story is about the turf. The Astrodome was built with a roof which was “a latticework of metal and glass-ish plastic, it allowed sunlight to glow inside and grow real grass for the field.” Brilliant! Real grass! That’s great. But as everyone knows, that didn’t work out so well. The reason was because it created a huge amount of glare. The players had a hard time fielding balls. So the owners did the obvious thing: they painted over the plastic. Problem solved!

Of course, it created a new problem: the lack of sunlight caused the grass to die. So, “The Astros finished 1965 playing on a field of dead grass, spray-painted green.” There was nothing, the Astros management seemed to think, that could not be solved with a coat of paint! But that only worked for so long. As Fillmore explained:

They installed “Chemical Grass” the next year, whose manufacturer (Monsanto) quickly renamed it “AstroTurf.” Which I believe you are all familiar with. As you are its later competitor, “FieldTurf,” supposedly more grass-like but having the drawback of looking like a carpet with mange. And you know about the domed stadiums that followed.

So it was Monsanto! Of course it was Monsanto! And speaking of corporate criminals, the Astrodome was the first stadium to create “luxury boxes” — where rich jerks can right off expensive game viewing as a business deduction because they are “entertaining” other rich jerks. Of course, all that is gone now. The Astros left the stadium in 2000. It’s last “event” was to shelter victims of Hurricane Katrina. But the people of Houston want to find a use for it. It once represented the future. It’s kind of like having an actual Commodore 64 running Castle Wolfenstein in your study. Sure, there are more advanced things, but nothing more wonderful.

Anniversary Post: Michael Phelps’ Metals

Posted on 17 Aug 2015 by Frank Moraes

Michael Phelps When I was a kid, I loved the Olympics. Of course, I loved game shows too. I was a kid. Sue me.

But on this day in 2008, Michael Phelps became the first person in history to win eight gold metals in a single Olympics.

But if I don’t care for the Olympics, I really don’t care for swimming. Actually, I didn’t even care for it when I was a kid. That’s normal, right? I mean, swimming is boring to watch. The only reason Americans are into it is because our nation is very good at it. And it is a very “white” sport. We love things that white people are good at. See, for example, another really boring sport: speed skating.

The only reason that I’m bring up Michael Phelps is because I thought that the Weekend Update segment “Really!?! With Seth” was quite good. In general, I find Seth Meyers annoying. He’s typical of comedy writers who never quite gel as performers. See, for example, Harold Ramis. But I do like this:

On the other hand, I disagree with his conclusion. I know nothing about Michael Phelps. I assume he is as boring as most people. If you sell a photo of anyone smoking cannabis at a party, you are a dick. But if you are impressed just to be in the presence of a celebrity — especially one who swam the “men’s 100 meter butterfly” a hundredth of a second faster than the next guy — you are an idiot.

Anniversary Post: MLB’s Only On-Field Death

Posted on 16 Aug 2015 by Frank Moraes

On this day in 1920, Carl Mays hit Ray Chapman in the head with a baseball pitch. Chapman died as a result the following day. It was ruled an accident, but that isn’t quite right. Mays felt that Chapman was hogging the plate and threw the ball to chase him back. Chapman apparently didn’t see the ball. At that time, part of the game was muddying up the ball so it was hard to see. Chapman is the only man in MLB who ever died directly as a result of an on-field injury.

There are two other notable cases. In 1909, Doc Powers crashed into a wall while chasing a foul ball. He sustained internal injuries and had to be operated on. But he got an infection and died two weeks later. John Lewis Dodge was in MLB, but by 1916, he was playing in the minors. He was hit in the face by Tom Rogers. The two of them were friends, and Rogers apparently never got over it.

Carl Mays didn’t seemed to be too bothered by killing Ray Chapman. He seems to have had his own problems. He grew up in a religious home and his Methodist minister father died when Carl was just 12 years old. He was something of a loner, and not well liked by those around him. He was particularly known for pitching inside. But the season after the death of Chapman, Mays posted his best stats.

There’s no question but that Mays should be in the Hall of Fame. The reason he isn’t is because he didn’t make many friends and he killed Ray Chapman. But I still maintain that the Hall of Fame is a crock. Inclusion shouldn’t be a question of someone’s personality — especially when Ty Cobb is included. As for Ray Chapman, well, he was quite a good player, but almost certainly never would have made it into the Hall of Fame. Although his death certainly should be.

Inflategate and Measurement Standards

Posted on 06 Aug 2015 by Frank Moraes

Inflategate As regular readers know, I don’t like football. I’m not that keen on professional sports, anyway; but football really does operate at a whole different level of boringness. If it weren’t for the fact that it is so explicitly violent, it never would have become America’s game. (Although I have noticed that Americans haven’t gotten into rugby — a game that makes American football players look like the masculine pretenders they are.) As a result, I’ve met the whole “deflategate” controversy with nothing but derision.

One thing about it is that it is like the whole steroid hysteria. How is it that people can live in a world where people are born into poverty, lead joyless lives, and die young, and yet they get upset because a form of entertainment isn’t “fair”? It makes no sense. And these sports have had rules handcrafted for specific kinds of bodies. In the 1960s, NFL linemen were smaller than most quarterbacks today. What’s more, “Of the 170 players that have started at least one game as an offensive lineman this season, only 28 weigh less than 300 pounds.” Today, Fran Tarkenton would be a baseball player.

But I found an interesting article on the “deflategate” controversy, Pressure Gauge Discrepancies Undermine Wells Report. It doesn’t directly deal with the question, but it answered something I wondered about: just how under inflated where these footballs? Well, not much: less than 3%. Is this a big deal? I don’t know. It might give a player a slight advantage. But I do know this: no normal person would be able to tell the difference between a ball filled to 12.5 PSI and 12.2 PSI. But okay, if true, it is something — it is an advantage. You have to wonder why anyone would cheat to get such a small advantage. But okay: an advantage.

The most important issue is that it isn’t at all clear that any of the balls were deflated. The officials had two pressure gauges at the game. One of them read 0.3 to 0.45 PSI higher than the other gauge. The alleged deflation was — What a surprise! — between 0.3 and 0.45 PSI. And the official who measured the balls cannot remember which gauge he used for the first measurements. This really should be the end of it. But of course it won’t be. There are too many people who think this is very very important. Above all, it is an opportunity for the NFL to make a big deal about the fact that it takes the sanctity of the game very seriously.

But clearly, the NFL does not take the sanctity of the game seriously. For many hundreds of years, the accuracy of weights and measures have been critically important to people all over the world. People understand that if you are buying a hundred pounds of tomatoes, you want it to be a hundred pounds — not a hundred ounces. But the NFL apparently doesn’t care about the pressure of the footballs in their games. If there is such variability with pressure games at one game, imagine what it is across the league.

Again, I don’t care from a sports standpoint — except that the people who get worked up about this stuff are fools. And I don’t feel bad for the players. Just the same, what we are seeing here is something I’m very familiar with from politics. A particular team, and player, and assistant are being used as a way for a bigger, more powerful, group to make itself look good. It’s pathetic. On the other hand, if everyone decided that football is corrupt and stopped watching it, I’d be on board.

Anniversary Post: Harvard–Yale Regatta

Posted on 03 Aug 2015 by Frank Moraes

On this day in 1852, the first Harvard–Yale Regatta took place. I know: who cares?! I certainly don’t, except for one thing: it was the first intercollegiate sporting event in American history. And I think that’s bad. I know that part of the idea behind sports was to make colleges less insular. The idea isn’t bad: colleges getting together to do things. But the least of the problems at colleges is that people at Harvard don’t interact enough with people at Yale.

The problem is that sports became too big a deal. In fact, for the most part, college athletics now makes students more constrained. But even if the Harvard-Yale Regatta did bring students together, it would just create a different kind of elitism. You may have read about Ted Cruz, “As a law student at Harvard, he refused to study with anyone who hadn’t been an undergrad at Harvard, Princeton, or Yale.”

When I was college age, I was extremely naive. I thought that all that really mattered was that you were bright and hardworking. That really isn’t the way the world works. But I doubt that I would recommend that a young person go to Harvard or Yale. They really are filled with the worst people on the planet. They’re committing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people. But that’s true of the University of Pennsylvania too.

Happy anniversary American intercollegiate sports. Even truly horrible things deserve to be remembered.

Mick Fanning and the Curious Shark

Posted on 20 Jul 2015 by Frank Moraes

Mick Fanning and Shark Mick Fanning is a professional surfer. He’s a triple world champion. And I have to admit, I think surfing is cool. I love watching people surf — whether on television or when I’m down at the beach. It’s beautiful to watch. And also, it’s impressive that people do it. Also: good God, don’t they realize there are sharks in the ocean! Well, Fanning knows, and so do all the people watching the J-Bay Open, the most recent leg of the World Surf League Championship Tour. It’s being reported like this, Shark Attacks Australian Surfer Mick Fanning During Live Competition. I’m not so sure.

If you look at the video, it’s not at all clear that the shark was attacking. It seems to be simply investigating the odd object it found in the water. That’s not to say that it was not trying to figure out if Fanning might be a tasty treat. But sharks, like most predators, are suspicious of things they don’t commonly eat. And if the shark was interested in anything, it seems to have been Fanning’s surfboard, not his body. Take a look at the video. It certainly seems that if the shark had been ready to eat, there would have been some damage.

Another interesting aspect of this is that Fanning is dressed in blue. A study published a few years ago found that of 17 shark species studied, 10 were totally color blind and the other 7 saw only grey and green — making them effectively color blind. This indicates that sharks may not see very well when it comes to light blue objects in the ocean. So it is quite likely that the shark was attracted to Fanning’s bright white surfboard. But again: the board didn’t seem to even have any bite marks on it. So I don’t see this as an attack.

What I’m really interested in is what the species of the shark is. At some points, it looks like it has a really long dorsal fin, but that is just the shark on its side — its pectoral fin coming out of the water as if waving to the television audience. We see the dorsal fin for just an instant at the beginning. I know there must be biologists out there who know what this magnificent creature is. It might explain more about its behavior as well. I’ll watch the news for a few days to see if anyone has any insights.

By saying all this, I don’t mean to say that Mick Fanning didn’t go through an amazing and deeply frightening experience. He tussled with a really big shark that was clearly interested in him. Apparently, Julian Wilson, the guy who was surfing with him, was as freaked out about the episode as Fanning was. Understandably. These people have got to normally suppress the idea that they make their living literally swimming with the sharks. And yesterday, they couldn’t. They are braver men than I!

Update (20 July 2015 9:10 pm)

Speculation is that it was a great white shark. I want to add to this discussion that by the time Fanning even noticed the shark, it’s mouth was way past him. I think I was wrong above when I said we see the pectoral fin; I think it is actually the caudal or tail fin.

David Frum Proves He’s a Rich White Guy

Posted on 16 Jul 2015 by Frank Moraes

David Frum I have this thing about steroid use in professional sports: I don’t care. Sure, I think it is terrible that people do that to their bodies. They shouldn’t. But there is nothing very natural about professional sports. There is nothing natural about 330 pound tackles running 5 second 40-yard dashes. And then there is the whole question of drugs being a fairly vague category. Why not decide that professional athletes can’t eat more 2,000 calories per day? That makes sense to me. At least it would put an end to the physical freaks that now dominate the world of professional sports — especially football and basketball.

But what are we to make of David Frum’s accusations that Serena Williams’ unprecedented success as a tennis player is due to to steroid use? Well, that’s pretty clear: David Frum is a racist. I don’t mean that in the sense that he is likely to walk into a church and start murdering African Americans. But I also don’t mean it in the sense of everyone having racist impulses because we are human and thus tribal, and because we live in an incredibly racist society. I mean that David Frum is smart and worldly enough to check himself before publicly accusing the most iconic African American tennis player in history of cheating. And he decided not to.

This doesn’t exactly make Frum a bad person. It just makes him a clueless rich white guy. He’s so privileged that he has no clue about it. In one of his deleted tweets he brought up Mark McGwire and Lance Armstrong. I think he did that to convince himself that he isn’t a racist. That’s the thing: I’m sure that he doesn’t see himself as a racist. But the thing is that I can’t find Frum writing about McGwire and Armstrong before. I can’t even find him writing about steroids.

So what we have here is a guy who looks at Serena Williams; and it doesn’t seem quite right to him. So he jumps to steroids, rather than his own biased expectations of tennis — as understandable as they may have been. But having been caught, Frum isn’t backing down. He’s going back the McGwire and Armstrong hedge. Judd Legum explained in an update to his article:

Frum appeared on Roland Martin’s show on TV One on Monday morning to defend his tweets. Frum largely attempted to shift the topic to a general discussion of steroid use in tennis. He did, however, assert there was reason to suspect Serena Williams in particular…

It’s slippery. If called on the particular allegations (Frum doesn’t quite have his facts straight), he just goes to the “steroid use in tennis” narrative. But of course, his comment wasn’t about steroid use in tennis; it was about Serena Williams’ steroid use in tennis.

But apart from the racist content of the whole thing, I think Frum does himself no favor in trying to make it about steroid use in tennis. There is really only one more clear indication that one is a rich white guy without a clue than to be concerned about steroid use in professional tennis. And that is to be allowed to shift the conversation from a racist observation into a concern about the integrity of the game of tennis. That is ultimate proof that David Frum is a rich white guy.

Frank’s Unskewed Score: USA and Japan Tie

Posted on 05 Jul 2015 by Frank Moraes

Soccer - USA vs Japan Last night, I sent an email to my cousin, “Are you a soccer fan? Looking forward to the big game tomorrow? I figure since we have 2.5 times the population of Japan, we should have to win by 2.5 times as many points.” Well, by that standard, today’s game was a tie. I discussed this last year, You Don’t Care about World Football. At that time, I scoffed at the fact that Americans were excited by the fact that we beat Ghana, which has a population just 8% of ours. So go ahead and feel good about the game. That’s fine. But it really isn’t that big a deal.

And I was rooting for Japan. Because I’m just like that.

Anniversary Post: Baseball

Posted on 19 Jun 2015 by Frank Moraes

On this day in 1846, first baseball game was played using Alexander Cartwright’s rules. But that’s the thing about baseball: it wasn’t really invented; it evolved. I’m sure you’ve heard about Abner Doubleday inventing baseball in 1839 in Cooperstown, New York. But that’s just nationalistic hogwash. The idea was to make baseball a distinctly American game, instead of what it is: a variation on rounders — a game that dates back to 16th century England and that was referred to as base-ball in A Little Pretty Pocket-Book, which was published in 1744.

Cartwright did systematize the game, set up the diamond shape of the playing field and got rid of the rule allowing players to get runners out by hitting them with the ball. Cartwright was a fireman — eventually becoming fire chief of Honolulu. But he was a huge booster for baseball and spread its play far and wide. But again: he didn’t invent baseball. This is a fact that Americans especially hate to acknowledge. The history of humanity is not a story of “great men” who we would be lost without. It is a story of various people — usually without even knowing each other — working collectively.

This isn’t to take away from anything that individuals do. But they don’t exist in a vacuum. Was Cartwright’s game with the Knickerbocker Base Ball Club really the first baseball game? Or was the first baseball game something played by a bunch of kids while Henry VIII ruled England? Or was it some much later time, since baseball continues to change? It is all of these and none of them. But clearly Alexander Cartwright made major contributions to the modern game of baseball. And that’s cool. But he didn’t do it so that there would be a plaque featuring him at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum (hilariously located in Cooperstown). He did it because he loved the game. And rightly so. Baseball is a wonderful game.

But what the hell: happy anniversary baseball!

Anniversary Post: Roller Coaster

Posted on 16 Jun 2015 by Frank Moraes

On this day in 1884, the Switchback Railway opened at Coney Island. It was not a transport; it was the first roller coaster designed as a thrill ride. I guess we have to be careful, because certainly early train riders must have found the experience thrilling. But the Switchback was only intended to be thrilling — it didn’t take anyone anywhere. Well, not exactly. It was not like the new rides where you end up back where you started. Instead, you climbed up to a tower, got in and it took you to a a secondary 600 feet away. One difference from modern roller coasters: people were seated sideways; the cars were more or less park benches on rollers.

The cost of the ride was a nickle — roughly $1.25 today. And for that, you got the thrill of traveling at a speed slightly over — I am not making this up — six miles per hour! That’s right: the Switchback Railway peaked out at the speed that is less than the average speed that an amateur marathon runner averages over 26 miles. Still, I’m sure it was way cool. And more suitable to me than many of the monster roller coasters around today.

Happy anniversary roller coaster!

Elocutionist and the Triple Crown Denied

Posted on 08 Jun 2015 by Frank Moraes

I loved horse racing when I was a kid. I used to handicap all the races during the county fair. But that year, I had been paying attention to the Grade I Stakes races. And I had set my sights on a horse named “Elocutionist.” He was one of the most promising three year olds out there. This morning, I got it into my head to find out whatever happened to this fine horse. But I had a bit of a hard time finding him, because I mis-remembered his name. I thought he was called “Elocutioner.” Google really thought I meant “Electrocutioner.” I didn’t.

Luckily, I knew a bit about the horse, so I was able to find him. He was born on 4 March 1973. The following year, nouveau riche commodities trader Eugene C Cashman went looking for a colt for his new horse racing stable. He was with his trainer, Paul T Adwell. The two of them narrowed down the horse they wanted to buy to just two colts. They flipped a coin and it came up “Elocutionist.” The horse they passed on was named “Bold Forbes.” Remember that name, because it will come up shortly.

In 1975, Elocutionist was placed in the two-year-old season. He started late, however, and only ran in four races. But he won every one of those races. So he looked rather good for the three-year-old season and the Triple Crown. In his first five races, he placed third, second, and then first three times. This qualified him for the Kentucky Derby.

There were really only three horses entered who were highly rated: Honest Pleasure, Elocutionist, and the horse Cashman almost bought instead, Bold Forbes. All them them were rated effectively the same. And they didn’t disappoint. But Elocutionist was a fundamentally different kind of horse. Bold Forbes led from the start, with Honest Pleasure right behind but not challenging for the lead. Elocutionist ran fourth almost the whole race. In the final stretch, Honest Pleasure broke too late and was unable to catch Bold Forbes. Elocutionist tried to come from behind, but the two other horses were too far ahead. They finished: Bold Forbes, Honest Pleasure, and Elocutionist.

Coming into the Preakness, people had given up on Elocutionist. The final odds were: Honest Pleasure at 0.9-1; Bold Forbes at 1.1-1; and Elocutionist at 10-1. Oh, yea of little faith! In this race, Bold Forbes and Honest Pleasure fought each other for the lead for the first six furlongs. At the first turn, Elocutionist was five lengths back from third place. On the final turn, he was in fifth place. But in the home stretch, Elocutionist came on like a freight train — winning by three and a half lengths. The announcer sounds stunned. It’s very exciting:

Honest Pleasure didn’t even place. Bold Forbes came in third place. I think this is interesting, because in the end, the two horses that Cashman couldn’t decide on turned out to be even in these two major battles.

Sadly, the Preakness was Elocutionist’s last race. In training for the Belmont Stakes, he was injured and put out to stud. Bold Forbes went on to win that race. But interestingly, Honest Pleasure, who also skipped Belmont, went on to have an exceptional career and make the most money of the three horses. But Elocutionist ended his career with an amazing record. He never ran in a race that he didn’t show in. He had 9 wins, 1 place, and 2 shows. He died in 1995 after a fairly successful career as a sire.

Sudoku, Caribou, and the Pointless Life

Posted on 17 Feb 2015 by Frank Moraes

I came upon this Sudoku website. Well, “came upon” is not quite right. I went looking for Sudoku because I was bored. And I found out that even though I’m really good at the game, I’m slow — not even in the top half of players. I believe this is because I’m like that talking dog in Up, “Squirrel?!” I’m just not that good at things that require me to focus for long periods of time. I focus on the puzzle, I focus on something else, I focus on the puzzle. I was the same way when I played chess. People would think that I was analyzing the position, but more often than not I was thinking about lunch.

I did four puzzles and I could have done dozens. I could do them every day all day. They occupy my mind. But I don’t do that because I think that I have more important things to do. But I’m not so sure that that is true. I could write a novel or I could solve a thousand Sudoku puzzles. And other than the fact that I might make a little money from the novel, I doubt I would get much more out of one than the other. And once I’m dead I absolutely don’t care.

Puzzles always bring this up in my mind. They are the clearest indication that what we do is just waste time until we die. As Schopenhauer put it, “We see only momentary gratification, fleeting pleasure conditioned by wants, much and long suffering, constant struggle, bellum omnium [everyone against everyone], everything a hunter and everything hunted, want, need and anxiety, shrieking and howling; and this goes on in saecula saeculorum [forever and ever] or until once again the crust of the planet breaks.” What is the point?

For the vast majority of us, life is a struggle. We have jobs that we hate. But we must have jobs! If we didn’t have jobs, we would die due to starvation or exposure or just some police officer beating us to death. But what do those jobs accomplish? They allow us to live for another day that we will use for the exact same purpose that we used the last day for: to live to struggle through yet another day. Even the momentary gratification we get in the course of the day is an illusion — a delusion that things might not be as bad as we think or that tomorrow might not be as bad as today.

Is life so precious? All my grand desires to do something great or at least marginally meaningful are at base no more profound than solving a Sudoku puzzle. Imagine waking up each morning knowing that your job was to solve a couple hundred puzzles. I don’t think it is hard to do. The work of most people is no more meaningful than that. And I accept Schopenhauer’s reason for this: it is our will to live. But not all lives are equally pointless. For many people the world over, life is very hard indeed. Some people live their whole lives is terrible pain. That isn’t necessary. There are social forces that dictate that. Namely: there are rich people who have spent a great deal of time and power “convincing” the rest of us that we would all be worse off if most of the resources of the world didn’t go to them.

I’m not sure that any life is any more worth living than one spent doing nothing but solving Sudoku puzzles. But I do know that our society is set up to make all of our lives as pointless as one long Sudoku solving session — this is perhaps more true of the rich than anyone else. The only difference is the quality of the food, the lodging, the entertainment. Humans consider themselves very smart. And when it comes to pointless things, like solving Sudoku puzzles, we are. But when it comes to how we’ve set up our society and how we use our resources, we are as stupid as caribou.

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