Clear As Mud

Hello World, Happy Friday the 13th! One good thing for the superstitious among us, is that June is the only month this year that starts on a Sunday, so this would be the only Friday the 13th to be seen in all of 2014, and once it's behind us, there should be smooth sailing the rest of the way. And speaking of times of the year, last Sunday was Pentecost, so we all know what that means. (Actually, very few members of the general public would have any idea what that means, and not just the godless communists and KGB agents monitoring my email, whose name is legion, heaven knows.) Like Epiphany, Ascension and the Transfiguration, most people have absolutely no idea when during the church year these festivals occur, even if they have some familiarity with them in the first place, which is not often the case. While the feast of the Ascension is observed 40 days after Easter, any theological expert worth his or her salt can tell you that Pentecost is celebrated 7 weeks (49 days) after Easter, hence its name, which comes from the Greek word for fifty. (Alert readers and students of geometry will recall that a pentagon is a geometric shape that has five sides - or in the case of the military fortress along the Potomac River, five sides and a bunch of spooks.) The season of Pentecost continues for 27 weeks, right up until the very doorstep of Advent, so there's plenty of time to enjoy all the delights that it has to offer, and don't spare the chocolate sprinkles and hot fudge, my good man! Well, there certainly has been no joy in Mudville around here lately, and the dinosaurs and I don't mind saying that's an understatement of epic proportions, and we ought to know. Last weekend saw the 146th running of the venerable Belmont Stakes, with a potential Triple Crown on the line, in the mighty hoof beats of the 3-5 favorite, California Chrome - the media darling whose hordes of loyalists were known to identify themselves proudly as "Chromeys." Alas, and as has happened so many times in the past, despite fine conditions and no accidents, the eagerly anticipated coronation came a cropper, once again dashing the hopes of a clamoring populace in the Belmont's remorseless tundra. Not to take anything away from Tonalist, who ran a strong race, but it was hard to watch the odds-on favorite finish in a tie for fourth, which was at once heart-breaking, while it also had an odd inevitability about it. Of the 31 total horses entered in the three races all together, only 7 ran in both the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont Stakes, while a mere three of them (California Chrome, General A-Rod, and Ride On Curlin') ran in all three races - and if limited to just the horses that ran in all three Triple Crown races, the fact is that California Chrome actually defeated the other two handily each time out. He managed to beat or tie 5 of the 6 horses who ran in at least two of the races, and might have easily left all of them in the dust, if the others had run in all three races as well, and not just the first and last. This was brought out by one of Chrome's justifiably irate owners, who made the point that to be fair, the Triple Crown should be limited to horses prepared to run in all three races, without fresh horses being trucked in for just one race, and skewing the results in favor of expediency over endurance. People can say what they like about sour grapes, but you can't help but admire someone who comes right out and stands up for his horse, when he feels it's gotten a raw deal, and frankly, I can't say that I blame him one bit. While there were no Chromeys in our house (hey, if nothing else, I ought to know better than to get on the wrong side of the evil spirit of Affirmed after all this time) we had our own disappointments to bear on the frozen front, in spite of high hopes to the contrary. After three grueling rounds of the NHL playoffs already under their collective belts, as it were, the plucky Rangers went on to lose the first 3 games of the Stanley Cup finals to the dratted Los Angeles Kings, before finally managing to scratch out a win in the 4th game, only have it all slip through their fingers on Friday night. It must be said that the Blueshirts played them tough every step of the way, with 3 of the 5 games going into overtime, but in the end, they simply couldn't hold back a relentless team that was destined to win its second Stanley Cup in three years. All along, it did seem as if the Rangers were playing way beyond their abilities, and whatever expectations their cadre of devoted followers might have harbored for them, so it was only by miraculous means that they made it this far in the first place. (That, and the fact that the evil spirit of Affirmed was already busy sabotaging the favorite at the Belmont, to be also using his nefarious powers to undermine a different group of hopefuls all at the same time.) So while the outcome was ultimately disappointing, it was probably as much as could have been reasonably hoped for, and would not have been improved if the series had stretched out the full 7 games, rather than being decided in five, I dare say. So now with the 13th behind us, as well as all of the Triple Crown races, and the NHL playoffs that the Rangers haven't won in the last 20 years, at least we should be finished with curses for a while, and it goes without saying, good riddance to one and all. Meanwhile in the NBA finals, the surprising San Antonio Spurs have been manhandling the Miami Heat, taking a commanding 3-1 lead in their series, in spite of "King James" LeBron and his court. Although this would be a so-called "three-peat" if Miami pulled off a win at this point, the fact remains that for the Spurs, this would be their 4th Larry O'Brien Trophy in the last 10 years, so they're obviously no slouches when it comes to winning championships on the hardwood themselves. For the rest of the country, pretty much the only real interest will be seeing if the winning (or losing) city erupts in riots, which seems to be turning into a time-honored tradition of playoffs these days, from the redwood forests to the gulf-stream waters, and from sea to shining sea - and not to mention, plenty of rockets' red glare to boot. In other sports news, of course, the World Cup has gotten underway, to the delight of its gazillions of rabid fans all around the world, where it seems it's never too early to start rioting, setting fires in the streets, throwing rocks at the Police, and turning over cars every which where. (And this is when the host country WINS, mind you, I don't even want to think what they do if their team should LOSE instead, ye gods!) There are 32 teams clustered now in Brazil, representing nations all over the globe, with non-stop coverage in every possible format known to mankind - and some that only aliens in far distant galaxies have at their disposal - so that even a person who has absolutely not the slightest interest in the proceedings would find it impossible to avoid the latest developments on and off the field. It can't be denied that the eyes of the whole world will be locked on every bounce of the soccer ball for the duration, although to be honest, in this country, it tends to be more of a ..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ..... I'm sorry, where was I? Like a parade with no green beer, or a holiday with no fireworks, Americans tend to lose interest in low-scoring sports like soccer, and all of the media hype over the previous years has made few inroads into the massive national apathy that repels the game like a newspaper full of old stinky fish heads. Personally, my suggestion to suit the Yankee Doodle tastes would be indoor arena soccer, with plenty of beer in soccer-ball cups, scantily-clad cheerleaders, fireworks, and whatever rule changes it would take to juice up the offense to the max, so fans don't sit through a grinding 3-hour snooze-fest only to wind up with a 0-0 tie at the end, thanks not. You heard it here first, folks. Elle