From the Wikipedia: Pesäpallo

I’m way down the rabbit hole and figured I’d bring you along. I stumbled upon this page while revisiting an old From the Wikipedia post I once intended to make about discontinued Olympic sports after Dan Lewis’ excellent Now I Know newsletter reminded me that Tug of War was once an Olympic competition. The following was never an Olympic sport, but it was a demonstration sport at the 1952 Summer Olympics in Helsinki.

From the Wikipedia: Pesäpallo.

Pesäpallo, or Finnish baseball, was invented in the 1920s by a two-time Olympian, Finnish civil war propagandist and eugenics supporter named Tahko Pihkala.

Pesäpallo sort of seems like what would result if someone with no prior knowledge of baseball saw a couple of innings of a baseball game while hopped up on hallucinogens then returned to Finland and tried to recreate it from memory. I don’t think that’s what happened with Pihkala, it just seems that way. There are nine players on defense, three bases and home plate, and three outs in an inning.

But instead of a nine-inning tilt, the game is split into two four-inning periods. The team that scores the most in each period wins the period, then the team that wins the most periods wins the game. You don’t really see many best-of-two contests in sports because they don’t make all that much sense. But in Pesäpallo, if the game is tied at one after two periods, the teams square off in one super-inning, which is presumably exciting as sitting front row at an Apocalyptica concert.

Oh, also: The pitcher stands on home plate and throws the ball straight up in the air and the bases are aligned in a zig-zag formation. Balls hit over the fence on a fly — home runs — count as foul balls, so batters try to find holes in the defense and hit balls with elusive spin. The aggressive defensive shifting that has recently come into fashion in Major League Baseball has been the norm in pesäpallo for a long time. Each team can use up to three designated hitters per inning in addition to the nine position players in their lineup, and the designated hitters are called “jokers.” Based on what I can tell, players slide into just about every base. And there’s enough on-field celebrating to make Lastings Milledge blush.

Finland’s top pesäpallo division is called Superpesis and comprises 11 men’s teams and 10 women’s team. The last place finisher (ha!) every year is relegated to Ykköspesis. Every three years, there is a World Cup of pesäpallo, and it so happens this is a World Cup year. From October 8-13, the top pesäpallo players from Finland, Sweden, Germany, Switzerland, Australia, Japan and Estonia will square off in Australia for national pride.

I have spent the better part of the last hour reading about pesäpallo on the Internet and mostly I’ve just learned that I know almost nothing about Finland. I have no idea what’s going on in the following video, but I can see that it’s pretty awesome. I would definitely be down for joining an after-work social pesäpallo team if someone started a league. Looking at you, hipsters.

 

Kick-up at a hazard table

The following is a drawing from around 1790 by British caricaturist and illustrator Thomas Rowlandson. It’s called “A kick-up at a hazard table!” Hazard was a dice game popular in London in the 18th century — an earlier, more complex version of craps.

The drawing caught my eye at the Met a couple of months ago. Mostly, I like it because it seems like a good, funny time capsule, and because it appears to be drawn with the type of confidence and enthusiasm that I generally enjoy in all forms of media. Partly, I like it because I am a baseball fan who appreciates the staggering power of randomness.

I don’t know many particulars of 18th-century British society beyond wig-powdering. Maybe the melee depicted above ensued after harsh words about King George III or the changing political tide in Europe. But I assume the conflagration in Rowlandson’s drawing came in response to a costly run of misfortune at the table.

Constructing a baseball team is hardly a game of pure chance. Teams can scout and analyze and coach to improve their odds, and the probabilities are never as discrete or obvious as those in a dice roll. But because its outcomes are impossible to accurately predict, it always requires a series of gambles.

The Mets started 2012 with calculated risks all over the field. They inked young players with short resumes into spots up and down their lineup. Two of them were coming off season-ending injuries. Two were playing new positions. Two had never spent a full season as a Major League regular before. To boot, all starting pitchers come with a significant chance of injury. And given the fluctuations in performance typical of relief pitchers, bullpens are often labeled a crapshoot. Undoubtedly, with more offseason resources to play with, the Mets’ front office could have better hedged some of its bets. But every team enters every season relying on some degree of good luck for success.

For most of the first half, the Mets rolled sevens way more often than snake eyes. Or something. I don’t really know craps or hazard and I’m growing rather tired of this metaphor. Two of the team’s surest bets — David Wright and R.A. Dickey — paid off more than anyone could have expected. Johan Santana, coming off a surgery that ended many careers, pitched like an ace for two months. The bullpen sucked and some of the young players struggled, as you probably know, but the team’s wins were more than enough to outweigh its losses.

Since the All-Star Break, their luck has turned. Santana and Dillon Gee got hurt and left the Mets relying on pitchers with much longer odds of success. The bullpen still sucks, some of the young players have continued struggling, others have struggled to new lows, and role players that contributed more than expected in the first half have done the opposite in the early parts of the second. Everything, it seems, went wrong at exactly the same time.

Now fans — myself included — are kicking up like a bunch of 18th-century British dudes after a series of unfavorable dice rolls, except hopefully without the pistols. We’re yelling, pointing fingers, smashing chairs, and scurrying for the exit with our hands above our head, drowning in woe-is-mes and I-told-you-sos. We’re blaming Terry Collins for the same decisions we often celebrated in the first half. We’re faulting Alderson for his actions and inaction. We’re questioning the team’s once-heralded chemistry, and we’re pinning almost everything on Miguel Batista or Jason Bay or Lucas Duda or Andres Torres.

Some of those gripes are legit, no doubt. The Mets counted on some bad bets, and in hindsight we can squint and see how they were bad from when they were made. But I suspect, for most of us, if we were shown in early March the Mets’ baseball-reference page in late July, we’d raise eyebrows at some parts and nod knowingly at others, concede that 47-50 sounds about right even if we hoped they’d be better, then scan down the pitching column and say, “whoa, wait: Mike Pelfrey got hurt?”

It’s the timing that’s killing us. Or killing me, at least. Even recognizing what I do about chance and small samples, the Mets’ early success seemed so reliable that I started believing they had figured out a way to buck the odds, or, at the very least, that their good fortune could continue through September.

It didn’t. Such is fortune. Such is baseball. Every year, a couple of teams enjoy a seemingly magical run of good luck, and fans of all the others lament all the bets — safe and silly — that didn’t ultimately pay off.

Here are your 2012 Mets, 47-50: Bad in the bullpen, short in the rotation, awful on defense, and with an offense that doesn’t appear quite good enough to overcome all that. The good news, if you’re searching, is that every game provides the team more information with which to make better bets in the future.

The best news, I suppose, is that their luck can change again as swiftly as it did at the All-Star Break. There’s still plenty of time. Santana could return and pitch like vintage Johan Santana again. R.A. Dickey could enjoy another ridiculous run of dominance, David Wright could continue performing like the very best player in baseball, and, hell, maybe the guys in the bullpen could even pitch to their career rates and maintain a damned lead just once. The team’s mid-season gambles could bring back massive and unexpected returns. It doesn’t seem likely, but then I guess outside of a few glorious weeks, it never really did.

Sandwich of the Week

This one came on rec from @BobbyBigWheel. The man can scout a sandwich.

The sandwich: Chicken from Cheeky Sandwiches, 35 Orchard St. in Manhattan.

The construction: Fried chicken with red cabbage slaw and white gravy on a buttermilk biscuit.

Important background information: You could walk right by Cheeky Sandwiches twice and miss it. I know because I did. Nearby, pierced scenesters spill out of a gallery full of black and white photographs that look ripped from the liner of a Tool album, smoking cigarettes and saying things like, “fresh” and “bold.” Inside, Cheeky Sandwiches is tiny, clean and unpretentious. It serves beer, soda, wine and sandwiches, and it feels like a sensible foothold upon which to steady yourself before or after venturing into the gripping Lower Manhattan strangeness beyond.

What it looks like:

 

How it tastes: Fresh. And bold.

First, the former: It seems possible everything on the Chicken at Cheeky Sandwiches save the slaw was prepared after I ordered it. And that seems almost impossible, given how quickly the guy worked. The chicken was moist, and the breading remained crispy under the strain of the creamy gravy. And the biscuit, piping hot, was crumbly and toasty on the outside and soft on the inside, buttery with just a hint of buttermilk tartness.

As for the bold: That came from the slaw, an assertive, crunchy, vinegary bite mixed in to an otherwise homey, comforting sandwich. It reminded me a bit of the red cabbage often served with German foods like sauerbraten, and indeed, at times felt like something that would fit better in a different sandwich.

It’s tough: I feel like if I had this without the slaw, I’d pine for a little something extra to put the sandwich over the top. But with the slaw, I found myself wishing at times that it wasn’t distracting my palate from the biscuit, chicken and gravy. Some tastes were perfect — Hall of Fame-caliber bites. In others, the slaw was too strong.

This seems like as good a time as any to remind everyone that nearly every one of these sandwich reviews comes off a pathetically small, one-sandwich sample. I suspect I could return to Cheeky Sandwiches, get this same sandwich with slightly different proportions, and deem it an inner-circle Hall of Famer.

But since that hasn’t happened yet, and this is the only one of its kind I’ve sampled, this still-awesome sandwich will fall slightly short of that hallowed distinction. It didn’t help, I will add, that the biscuit could not quite withstand the elements of the sandwich and fell apart before it was finished. The biscuit is crucial to the excellence of the sandwich, though, so I’d never suggest it be replaced with another form of bread.

What it’s worth: It costs $6.50. It’s not huge, but it’s certainly a small meal, and two of them would be more than a large meal. The price seems very reasonable, given the quality of the ingredients.

How it rates: 88 out of 100.

Friday Q&A part 2, the randos

https://twitter.com/connallon/status/226308319172784129

I tackled Chicago pizza here during a trip to Chicago a couple years ago. The condensed version: It’s delicious, but it’s not pizza. It’s like a pizza-style cake. It’s really cute that they call it pizza, but as far as I’m concerned pizza is something that can be — and often should be — eaten by the curb late in the evening, folded in half with one hand while the grease drips out the back and onto the increasingly translucent paper plate you’re cradling in the other. Chicago-style “pizza” requires a knife and fork and takes 45 minutes to prepare. Bah.

Again, still good, and good enough to be good anywhere. My issue with it is entirely semantic, and pretty silly really.

Notable exception to “good enough to be good anywhere:” Pizzeria Uno, at least in its non-Chicago locations. Not a fan. Actually, my wife and I first bonded over our mutual distaste for Pizzeria Uno and the movie Titanic.

https://twitter.com/jeffpaternostro/status/226305592413802497

OK, how about a five-show lineup?

1. Paul McCartney: I know McCartney already played Citi Field back in 2009, but I was busy getting married and I missed it. Plus, McCartney is a living legend, a former Beatle, and still awesome. I saw him at Yankee Stadium last summer. The guy rocks. He’s all over the stage, plus he’s actually playing the instruments he purports to play and not just holding them pretending to play while relying on the band behind him for the sound. How does a 70-year-old man have so much dexterity and energy? Also: Despite being one of the band’s lead singers, McCartney is somehow perhaps the most underrated Beatle. Listen to the bass parts. They’re so good.

2. The Flaming Lips: Regardless of how you feel about the Flaming Lips’ music, go see them live sometime. I can practically guarantee they’ll do something awesome that you’ve never seen a band do before. Confetti guns, giant hamster balls, Wizard of Oz covers, laser shows, everything. It’s great spectacle, and I’d love to see how they translate it to a venue that big.

3. Styx: Though I am no fan of REO Speedwagon’s, I really enjoyed the fact that REO Speedwagon was playing at Citi Field because REO Speedwagon is hilarious and bad and great fodder for comedy. Styx is even worse and even sillier. Maybe we could have them come play all of Kilroy Was Here for the second set.

4. The Wu-Tang Clan: Because duh.

5. Bill Withers: What’s Bill Withers doing these days anyway? He wrote pretty awesome songs and it’d be good to see him get some work.

https://twitter.com/hoyasaxa/status/226305919116521472

Santore! For those uninitiated, Chicken Madnesses are available from Wisemiller’s, a small deli and grocery right near the Georgetown campus. It is without a doubt the university’s most popular and frequently discussed sandwich. It’s grilled chicken, bacon and red and green peppers all chopped up and covered with some seasoning (which I’d guess is a mix of paprika, cayenne, and garlic salt), topped with melted provolone, lettuce, tomato and mayo. What makes it special, I think, is the distinctive flavor of the Wisey’s grill, which is strong enough that it makes everyplace where a Wisey’s sub has been smell like Wisey’s for the next several hours.

So I would say that no, adding barbecue sauce or replacing the mayo with barbecue sauce does not make it a different sandwich. It’s the overpowering Wisey’s-ishness of the creation that makes it (as well as its better, burger-based cousin) Madness, and Madness can be sauced in plenty of ways.

Also, if you’re in the Georgetown area of D.C., you should probably check out Wisemiller’s. I suspect the Madness sandwiches don’t taste as good to those who didn’t rely on them to get through college, but they have bacon regardless.

Via email, Chris writes:

The Foo Fighters song ‘Rope’ popped up on my Ipod recently and the beginning of that song always reminds me of the song Detachable Penis that was popular back when we were in middle school. Which leads me to my question.  Is Detachable Penis the dumbest or most ridiculous song of our lifetime to ever get regular mainstream airplay? I know there was some ridiculous stuff coming out of the 80’s but that’s mostly in hindsight.

More like awesomest song of our lifetime to ever get regular mainstream airplay!

Chris is right though; that’s a tremendously weird song to be in a rock radio rotation. And it’s not just the subject matter. The song itself is weird, and it’s more of a spoken word/standup routine than a proper song.

I kind of love it, for what it’s worth. I bought the album after I saw the song featured on Beavis and Butt-head, I believe. Two notable stories: I had a short-lived sketch comedy show in college called The Brodeo, and we used the beginning of Detachable Penis for our opening credit sequence. I edited it, and though I had no idea what I was doing, I did a pretty solid job aligning the guitar hits with still-screens of the actors in the show. The only problem is I screwed up the audio fade-out. So, unintentionally, as the credits ended you could hear the first line of the song — “I woke up this morning with a bad hangover and my penis was missing again.” We decided it worked and left it in; a happy accident.

Second: King Missile and their lead singer, John S. Hall, both released albums on labels that were under the umbrella of the Knitting Factory’s record company while I interned there one summer. It was a tiny operation and, among other things, I answered phones. Sometimes John S. Hall would call in, and every time I heard his voice I wanted to be all, “say you checked the medicine cabinet because you leave it there sometimes! Say it!” I never did though.

 

Twitter Q&A, part 1: Mets stuff

https://twitter.com/RobPatterson83/status/226309308453900288

Legit chance? Yes. Likely? Probably not.

So much can happen between now and next spring, but Wheeler should be promoted to Triple-A soon. Figuring the Mets will want to limit his innings to around 150 — he’s at 101 2/3 now — he’ll probably only get a handful of starts at the Minors’ highest level before the end of the season.

Wheeler still walks batters at a pretty high rate, and I suspect the Mets would want to see evidence that he has cut that down before they promote him. The good news is his walk rate has steadily declined as he has advanced through the Minors — 5.8 BB9 in Low A in 2010, then 4.1 BB9 in High A in 2011, and now 3.2 BB9 in Double-A in 2012. Also, he allows very few hits and home runs, which implies he yields mostly weak contact.

Provided he’s healthy, Wheeler will get an invite to big-league camp in Spring Training. There — again, provided health — he will likely join Johan Santana, R.A. Dickey, Jon Niese, Dillon Gee, Matt Harvey, Jeurys Familia, Jenrry Mejia, whoever else survives the coming 40-man roster crunch, and whomever the Mets add to the 40-man roster to protect from the Rule 5 Draft.

Wheeler is reputed to have more talent than a lot of those guys, so maybe if he shines in Spring Training and the Mets decide he has nothing left to prove in the Minors, he’ll make the team. The front office appears to be pretty conservative with promoting its pitching prospects, though, so if I had to bet, I’d guess Wheeler starts next season in Triple-A and (given continued success) joins the big club whenever it first has a need.

https://twitter.com/JasonCronk/status/226309241076580354

My thoughts are this: I agree. Not for a rental, at least. If the Mets were trading for a guy — at any position, really — with an established level of success that they’d have under control for the next few years, then sure, trade prospects. If the Mets were trading for a guy signed through the end of 2012, then they shouldn’t give up anything they think will help them in the future. Winning a Wild Card means entry to a one-game play-in, like you say. And besides that, relievers are fickle. Remember how much better the Mets’ bullpen looked on paper coming into 2012 than it has looked on the field in 2012? There are very few closers that come with guaranteed success in the role, and fewer yet that will be available at this trade deadline. Buying one on behalf of the 2012 season — when the rest of the bullpen will still be the rest of the bullpen, when the team still won’t hit lefties or play good defense — at the possible detriment to 2013-2015, seems silly.

Could he benefit from more regular at-bats in Buffalo? Probably. Would I send him down if I were in charge? Probably not. Though he has certainly struggled, Nieuwenhuis still offers value to the Mets, and the Mets are still trying to win as much games as they can.

Against righties this year, Nieuwenhuis has a .782 OPS. Jason Bay’s OPS against righties for the last two years is more than 150 points lower. Nieuwenhuis is rangy on defense and fast on the basepaths.

It seems about time the Mets stop giving Bay regular starts against right-handers. If he starts crushing lefties enough for anyone to suspect he can hit like the 2009-vintage Jason Bay again, then by all means, play him every day again. At this point, though, with slew of lefties that appear apt to out-hit Bay against righties and the team still in contention, penciling him into the lineup daily hurts the team.

So if it were up to me — and it’s not, thankfully — I’m keeping Nieuwenhuis around and playing him against righty starters, hoping he adjusts and breaks out of his slump. Whenever Mike Baxter is ready to return, I reassess. But that’s down the road.

Via email, Luke writes:

I like Terry Collins, but his use of Miguel Batista in high leverage situations drives me into a furious rage, and I break things.  How do you feel about it?

I was perhaps Batista’s last apologist among Mets fans in 2012 since I’m fascinated by the way he always puts up woeful peripherals but an above-average ERA. But yeah, the sight of Batista warming up in late innings of a tight game is certainly frustrating. The thing is, if Bobby Parnell’s the interim closer, which member of the Mets’ bullpen would you want to see warming up in the late innings of a tight game? Ramon Ramirez has probably pitched his way into more responsibility, but that’s pretty much it.

A few more good email questions came in after I wrote this, but I’m closing in on 800 words so I’m going to stop here. I’ll get to the ones that are still relevant in future mailbag posts.

To the inbox

One of things that most surprised me about the feedback I got from the suggestion-box post a couple weeks ago was that people seem to enjoy Twitter Q&A and mailbag stuff. Who knew? Usually I write them because I can’t think of anything to say but have time to make a post. But if a few of the readers goodly enough to respond to that post like them, they should probably happen more often.

Problem is, I’ve leaned on Twitter for questions, which is unfair to anyone without Twitter and limiting to anyone who might have — heaven forbid — a question that requires more than 140 characters. So if you’re either or both of those things, have at it:

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨

Warning
Warning
Warning
Warning

Warning.

Me at 23

The Mets have a day game today and I have a podcast to record. So in lieu of any lengthy original post today, please accept this extremely lengthy letter I wrote to Delta’s subsidiary Song Air Lines almost exactly eight years ago. This was up on a now-defunct resume website I had, and I’ve been meaning to re-post it here for posterity. Fueled with punk-rock spirit, 23-year-old me intended to write a series of mockingly petty complaint letters to big corporations. Instead, I wrote just this one, then fizzled on the idea and focused on playing the bass and eating Taco Bell, the main things I did at 23. Also, I learned shortly after writing it that Jet Blue uses Airbus planes, which weren’t alliterative. Finally, http://www.jamesvanderbeek.de — which really existed — now redirects to the Beek’s German-language Wikipedia page.

July 21, 2004

John Selvaggio
President
Song Air Lines, Inc.
1030 Delta Blvd.
Atlanta, GA 30320

Dear Mr. Selvaggio,

Several weeks ago, a few friends of mine began planning a trip to West Palm Beach, Florida, from our hometown on Long Island in New York. My friends, who make slightly more money than I do, were dead set on flying on Jet Blue airlines, and, to be honest, I could not blame them. After all, I’d flown Jet Blue several months prior and immediately fallen in love with its on-board amenities, not to mention its reasonable fares. Besides that, I’d become enchanted by its beautiful, blue bellied Boeing 767s, which reminded me of the lovely red-breasted robin, except blue, and not a bird.

Despite this predilection for another airline, I was intrigued by the services offered by Song, especially since I am a Delta SkyMiles member (#XXXXXX) with just shy of the 50,000 miles needed for a trip to North Africa (and, Lord, I hope Mauritania counts as part of that region). One of my friends, a fellow frequent flyer, had saved the Song “Happy Guide” from a previous flight.

You’re about to see how it’s possible to have a great experience at a great price. (Really)…. You’re about to see how many different ways you can experience your trip. Because at Song, we believe you shouldn’t have to check your personality with your bags. Flying time should always be, well, your time (Happy Guide, pg. 2).

After reading a manifesto so wrought with benevolence, cute colloquial language, and egalitarian ideals, how could I not Fly Song? Besides, the flight was actually slightly cheaper than the JetBlue flight to West Palm Beach that was leaving New York around the same time.

My flight to West Palm Beach, flight DL 2066, left John F. Kennedy International Airport at 4:30 PM on July 8th, 2004. Most of the flight went swimmingly, or, I suppose, flyingly. The flight attendants were polite and helpful, and instructed me in the appropriate emergency landing protocol, which was actually quite different than the plan I had in mind, which consisted of panicking, running, kicking, and screaming like a wet-pantsed toddler.

After takeoff, under the pseudonym of ICEMAN, I began my dominance of Song music trivia. I won nine straight games, with unprecedented scores of up to 7950 points. As it turns out, I know way more about Journey than your average Song traveler, and I would like to take this time to officially dedicate my string of victories to Steve Perry. Clearly, you folks at Song Airlines could appreciate the man who wrote, “Anyway you want it, that’s the way you need it.” My joy in slaughtering my fellow passengers in the trivia game was enough to allow me to completely ignore NORMA, the woman sitting in the row behind me, who was very obviously cheating off my screen.

When it came time to instill my own personality into my flight, however, things started to go awry. My personality can best be described as “nacho-loving.” Thus, because I was not expected to check my personality with my bags, I ordered the “Ole Feast” from the Song Happy Guide.

The Ole Feast arrived, and I was charged five dollars. I paid with a twenty-dollar bill, but the flight attendant did not have change and told me she would pay me back before the end of the flight. To my utter dismay, the Funacho Cheese that came with the Ole Feast was ice cold, and clearly not up to my normal nacho cheese standards. I understand that heating up only the nacho cheese would be relatively difficult, considering that the rest of the Ole Feast was kept cool, but, after the pleasant experience on the flight thus far, I was holding Song Airlines to a high standard, hoping that the company might be part of that rare upper echelon of airlines that actually heats up their nacho cheese. I guess I was hoping for too much. On top of that, the Tostitos chips that came with the Ole Feast had clearly been around the block, albeit not necessarily in the promiscuous sense, but in the sense that the bag was essentially just a collection of chip fragments, rather than the large, round, unadulterated chips I was hoping for. Naturally, I am not sure if you are as regular a nacho eater as I am, but all nacho lovers know that it is nearly impossible to dip a tortilla crumb into nacho cheese, no matter what temperature. The chips, salsa, and cheese were accompanied by Hot Tamales, which no one in his or her right mind would eat.

On top of my general, and admittedly superficial, complaints about the Ole Feast, the flight attendant never returned with my fifteen dollars. I realize that I am at least partially responsible for the oversight, as I should have pursued it, but, to be honest, I got caught up in music trivia and was unable to focus on anything else. The ICEMAN does not have time for trivial issues of change for nachos. His alter ego, me, does.

One can buy many strange and wonderful things with fifteen dollars. It is an amount of money that is generally overlooked since it is not a standard denomination, but if you consider it, it really can be a quite valuable amount, especially while traveling. More on this later.

After landing in West Palm Beach and enjoying some of that airport’s wonderful amenities, most notably foosball, I realized my error in getting off the plane without my change, and went immediately to the Song/Delta Airlines check in line for help. Although the two Delta employees could not immediately refund my fifteen dollars, they were extremely helpful. They gave me a twenty-five dollar Delta gift certificate and acted as though they were putting wheels in motion for the return of my fifteen dollars. I was grateful for their help and for the gift certificate, despite the fact that, as they explained, I could not “go down and spend it at Publix.” It was true: Publix did not accept Delta travel certificates.

Fifteen dollars could go a long way at Publix.

I was told, however, that my gift certificate could be used for anything purchased through Delta. This interesting theory will be revisited later.

My stay in Florida was nice, though I really could have used a little more spending cash while I was there. Not too much, maybe just fifteen dollars would have made the parasailing cost seem more reasonable for my budget. But, alas, I was short fifteen dollars.

I returned to the Delta/Song check-in area at West Palm Beach airport a few hours before my flight home, hoping that the calamity involving my fifteen dollars would have been rectified. This is where my Delta/Song experience took a serious turn south, and not in a physical way, as I was actually planning to fly north. The woman at the desk was impatient, and essentially scolded me for leaving the airplane without my fifteen dollars. Naturally, I had already endured a great deal of internal strife regarding my egregious mistake, and her public humiliation certainly did nothing for my psyche. She not only did not have my fifteen dollars, but she could not even provide a phone number I could call to pursue my fifteen dollars. She only gave an address to which I could write. I explained to her that, in this technologically advanced age, traditional mail is inefficient and inconvenient, but she was unresponsive. I told her that, in my busy schedule, it would be difficult to take the time to write and mail a letter to Delta and Song higher-ups, but she maintained that it was my only hope of ever seeing my fifteen dollars again.

When boarding the plane, I was horrified to learn that I would, indeed, have to check my personality with my bags, despite what the Happy Guide had promised. This flight, although it was technically a Song flight, would be on a Delta plane without any of the Song signature amenities. Not only was the ICEMAN unable to continue exerting his unbelievable supremacy in the music trivia circuit, but I was without the Song flight’s excellent selection of mp3 channels to listen to.

Fifteen dollars can be used to buy a CD, which could have more than made up for the lack of mp3 selection.

Instead of having a wide selection of satellite TV channels, I was told that our only option for in-flight video entertainment was a movie, The Rules of Attraction. I had not seen the movie, but I knew that it starred James Van Der Beek of Dawson’s Creek, one of my favorite visual media artists. My interested was piqued, and I prepared to tune in.

To my great dismay, I had again been misled. The movie was not The Rules of Attraction at all, but The Laws of Attraction. The latter features the ever emasculating Pierce Brosnan, and was thus humiliating for all of us non-incredibly-charming-and-delightfully-British men on the flight. Anyone sane would agree that James Van Der Beek is far more reasonable looking, and his presence broadcast over a large screen on the airplane would not make me feel, in any way, like less of a man.

Fifteen dollars can be used to purchase a glossy photograph of James Van Der Beek, available from the German fansite www.jamesvanderbeek.de.

As so many of my fellow overweight Americans are wont to do, I decided to drown my sorrows in spreadable cheese. I ordered, from the flight attendant, a “Song Picnic,” along with a package of Pringles and a Song Candy Crunch Cookie. I told her that I intended to pay with my Delta travel certificate. She was resistant to this idea, first arguing that I should be using a Song travel certificate. When I explained that I was given the Delta certificate because of a mistake made on a Song flight and that we were, after all, on a Delta plane, she agreed to accept it, but said that she could not offer change. This arrangement, while clearly unfair, seemed acceptable to me at the time, so disappointed was I with my flight thus far. She went away, I assumed to get my order, and returned with another, more important seeming flight attendant. They, together, explained that the travel certificate could not be used for food. This was surprising to me, since nowhere in the Terms and Conditions of the travel certificate was this made clear. They pointed out that, while it did not say that it could not be used towards the purchase of food, it also did not say that it could. I countered that it said it could be used for “travel related services,” which, in this case, clearly included food. Naturally, since Delta flights do not charge for food, there would be no reason to list food as something for which the travel certificate could be exchanged. They wanted nothing of this argument, and returned my gift certificate unredeemed. I have included a copy of the Terms and Conditions of the travel certificate.

Fifteen dollars could have been used to buy a variety of fine meats, cheeses, and crackers at any supermarket or grocery store, which would have more than sated the desires that led me to order the Song Picnic. Fifteen dollars could have purchased at least four cans of EZ Cheez spreadable cheese product and a box of crackers.

Though the rest of my trip went without incident, I am, needless to say, disgusted by the quality of my second flight and the larceny on my first. Despite my wealth of SkyMiles and my desire to accrue more, it will be extremely difficult for me, in good conscience, to fly Delta or Song again, especially if I am not refunded my fifteen dollars.

Fifteen dollars would have covered the difference between my ticket and the ticket on JetBlue.

Respectfully yours,

D. Ted Berg
Linguistic Technician

To my surprise, I heard back from Song Air Lines a couple weeks later:

Wait, what?

I remember one time when we were with the Phillies [in 1991], this was before a game, Lenny [Dykstra] had blood coming out of both of his ears. He was panicked. He said, “Dude, what’s happening to me?” Somehow Lenny played that night, but with all the stuff he put in his body, you knew it wasn’t going to end well.

Wally Backman.

Seriously, does anyone know what it is you could put in your body to make it bleed from both ears? I want to know so I can continue staying far, far away from that stuff.

Click through and read Bob Klapisch’s article detailing Dykstra’s long, slow, public fall from grace. And for more, don’t miss Emma Span’s take on Dykstra for the Hall of Nearly Great.