Olympic Softball

Since no one with any clout seems to be saying it, I'm going to say it: Olympic Softball this year was a sham.

Now, let's think about who's making this statement. I'm as big a fan of the USA National Softball team as there is among the non-playing crowd, and I've tuned in to every World Cup and College World Series game since high school. I know the players, I follow the NPF (National Pro Fastpitch) whenever I can, and I even added a few National team commemorative cards to my over-sized baseball card collection. And, having time to tune in to the Olympics for the first time this year, I watched every match the USA played, save the last one.

And that's where the problem arises. Because I did watch the USA defeat Japan's non-Ueno pitching staff in Pool Play, and I did enjoy seeing the replay of the thrilling 4-1 extra-inning masterpiece that should be required viewing for anyone trying to expel the sport from the Olympic games. But then, when they should have been taking on Australia--the winner of the Canada/Australia semi-final matchup--for the Gold Medal in the last Olympic softball game for the foreseeable future, somehow, they faced Japan instead.

My beef is this: the "playoff" round--as opposed to the Pool Play round--featured the top four seeds from the Pool Play: USA, Japan, Australia, and Canada. In the alleged semi-finals, the USA beat Japan while Australia beat Canada. And then, naturally, a losing team, Japan, got to play Australia and get a second chance...wait, what? That's insane, folks, and it's insane for two reasons.

1. Why did Japan, the #2 seeded squad at 6-1 in Pool Play, play the #1 seeded team in the first round? How is this fair to them, having worked hard in the other games even while saving Ueno up, to have to play the best team despite earning another opponent? What tournament in the world seeds their semi-finals 1 vs 2 and 3 vs 4?

2. Why why why WHY would the #2 team then get two opportunities in the playoff rounds (since they lost once to start) at reaching the Gold Medal game, but the USA have only the single shot at taking the gold? Think about it: in essence, Japan was playing in a double-elimination tournament format, while the USA, Australia, and Canada were all playing single-elimination. How does this make sense? If we're going to force feed the two-seed into a 1-2 matchup, and then give them an extra chance to get back to the Gold Medal game, then why didn't the USA, who had already beat them once in the playoff round (not to mention in Pool Play), have a second chance to take the gold? After all, Japan did, falling once but then taking it all, despite only evening the playoff series at 1-1.

In both cases, how does that make any sense to a rational mind? No Little League tournament would get away with such a poorly-construed tournament format, let alone one that rewards a team for losing its first game in the playoff portion. This is nuts, and I find it amazing that fewer people involved with softball are voicing their disapproval. If there's anything about Olympic softball that suggests it should be gone from the Olympics, it's that their federation can come up with so crummy of a seeding- and playoff-format.

Again, this isn't to take away from Japan's performance in the alleged Gold Medal game, which was fantastic, and all the credit in the world is due to Yukiko Ueno, who pitched the game of her life. But I just don't agree that she should have had the extra opportunity to pitch that transcendent game, because the format of the playoffs for Olympic softball defied logic.

On a lighter note, I am very sad to see softball get the boot. I can't say that I agree with any of the official reasons for its dismissal--unpopularity with Europe--or the unofficial ones--American dominance. While I'm not European, I think they're missing out on a lot of quality competition in shunning softball and baseball, but I can address the second so-called reason that seems to be more popularly accredited as the cause behind the decision (a 52-52 vote, by the way). People said that America was too good for the sports sake, and that it made the sport pointless because the result was a foregone conclusion. But consider the way Olympic basketball went early on. The USA simply dominated, winning each Olympic tournament (save the clock-referee debacle against Russia in 1972) until Athens, when Argentina took the world by storm and walked away with the Gold. The USA had been as dominant as anyone in any sport, especially once professionals entered the picture, but yet, the sport endured and, over time, the gap between the USA and the rest of the world began to shrink, to the point now where ESPN is fawning over the resurgent squad in the Gold Medal game in Beijing. Who's to say that softball won't one day become like basketball, where the Olympic and World Cup tournaments are competitive affairs?

Softball may be gone from the 2012 Olympics in London, but there's hope for its return in 2016. Visit Back Softball to take a look at some of the efforts being made to bring it back, and make sure to tune in to the World Cup and College World Series to show your viewership-support for the sport. I know I've enjoyed watching the beautiful and supremely-talented woman of the USA National Team compete and, while I realize the silver medal feels like a disappointment, be proud of what you've done and, I'm sure, how many young women look up to you.

Love in the Time of Cholera Film Review

First, before we start confusing my message here, the fact remains: the producers made an egregious error in deciding not to make Love in the Time of Cholera in Spanish. Behind the puzzling decision, of course, was our old green friend, the almighty dollar, but, as things turned out, EAELTDC wasn't a cash cow anyway. And who would have expected it to be such? A story built so heavily on a very stretched concept of love, featuring mostly unknown names to the average American moviegoer, rarely succeeds at the box office here. So why not be true to Gabriel García Márquez's story and add the final, beautiful stroke of leaving it in its original tongue?

Alas, Newell and company decided to go a different direction, and the result was a far from perfect adaptation. Yet, in spite of some miscalculations--particularly the language, but also in the pacing dilemma and editing--the film adaptation of Gabo's beautiful novel proved a pleasant watch for one of the book's fans.

If it needed to be narrowed down, commendation is due thanks to the beautiful visual experience Love in the Time of Cholera presents. Shooting on-location in Columbia, the setting is gorgeous and colorful, evoking the thoroughly descriptive beauty of the world Gabo forged. From the first scene with the parrot, the viewer experiences rich, vibrant colors. Just as capably, though, the transition to darker moments and darker, more dreary places and times remains smooth. Filmed smoothly and indulgently, we earn a peek into a vividly alive world in a far-removed time, seeing both the exuberant daytime and crisp, chilly night through perfectly chosen lenses. The world Newell and company create most move quickly, and encompass the lives of the many characters peripheral to the principal love triangle of the story, and all these settings are built and filmed with substantial precision and care; despite quick, abrupt shifts in time or place, each area and location employed by the filmmakers receives its due diligence, whether the scene is a honeymoon barge bedroom or a dusty clerk's table in a market. Music was used thoughtfully, and the Shakira music--in Spanish, of course--added cultural authenticity to the movie and a potent emotional sway to transitional scenes.

Matching the success of the setting are the portrayals of the principals--Florentino Ariza (Unax Ugalde & Javier Bardem), Fermina Daza (Giovanna Mezzogiorno), and Dr. Juvenal Urbino (Benjamin Bratt). Ugalde creates the perfect young Florentino--eager, engrossed, awkward with the smile--and sets the character's innocent love in the perfect form. While Ugalde's apparent youth affects the way age comes across in the film, particularly in the way he appears to be identically Fermina's age, I doubt any young man could have better filled the role; even when mindlessly gummed flower petals while reading a letter, Ugalde built up a Florentino Ariza the audience could truly empathize with. Bardem, on the other hand, perhaps victimized by his dynamite performance as Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men, failed to offer the innocence Ugalde mastered during the transition age. But, as one might expect of as talented an actor, Bardem's performance as an aging Florentino succeeds marvelously, his careful speech and delicate, precise manner fit perfectly in with the Florentino Gabo penned, who--somehow--succeeded so much with the women of Columbia.

Mezzogiorno's Fermina plays a clear second fiddle to Ugalde and Bardema's Florentino, but she manages to build up a deeply layered character. Though the viewer has to employ the deleted scenes to get a full image (more on this later), Fermina comes across as completely naive early on (no better deliver of the "eggplant" line is possible, with Mezzogiorno throwing it away as a child would in a dinnertime compromise) and, as she ages, accomplishes both forced grace and aged authority. As for Bratt, Newell and the writers failed to take advantage of a near flawless performance; de-emphasizing Urbino made the story into a very non-isosceles love triangle, and it somewhat wasted Bratt flashing power, authority, and a uniquely different sort of love from Florentino. Bratt's charm as a young Urbino, doctoring about a beautiful young patient, contrasted with the boyish glee of flirting with Hildebranda and Fermina in the carriage evidenced the dynamic, ranging performance by Bratt.

While the setting, soundtrack, and acting all made the movie a success, a few strange decisions kept it from perfectly capturing Gabo's work. We could harp on the language selection, and I think we would be beating a dead horse at this point: I think, retrospectively, even Newell might be willing to admit that Spanish would have been the correct call. But that decision isn't alone as a detractor. First, in typical Mike Newell fashion (I'm thinking of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), the beginning feels very rushed and, while the chronological demands necessitated some of it, the choice to leave out the extended opening--featuring all of the bathing and conversation between aged Fermina and Urbino leading up to his death--suggests a conscious decision to alter the love triangle in the film. With that scene, the audience sees a side of Fermina that the rest of the film ignores; amid all the "Was it really love?" comments, one gets the sense that, maybe subconsciously, or maybe more, Fermina still thinks of Florentino. That is, we get the sense that Urbino doesn't really command her love. But the extended scene, much more faithful to the novel, shows the loyal, respectful love that exists between them, and stands in valuable contrast to the rest of the film. Really, Newell traded out three extra minutes of a two hour, ten minute movie for less complex character relationships, which doesn't feel like a quality decision.

Second, the casting of John Leguizamo puzzles me, not on face value, but in the reign Leguizamo received; what accent was that? While he captured the necessary vigor and jerk-ness of Lorenzo Daza, he just didn't add to an already stretched realism; I don't know if it was a New York accent or not, as some critics panned, but it certainly didn't belong next to the crafted voices of Bratt, Mezzogiorno, and Bardem. Finally, as I mentioned pace a bit earlier, it bears mentioning that pacing was still an issue throughout much of the first half. Until Bardem entered, the film felt like it was moving too quickly, with brief character introductions--Liev Schrieber's two short appearances and the minuscule elaboration and depiction of the brothel, which provided such a valuable setting in the novel, both standing out--and even briefer explanation. While that certainly was appropriate for the fervor that Florentino discovered, it didn't fit with the excruciating waiting game Florentino had to play and, though the time shifts were clear enough, not until Ugalde's brilliant performance ended did I feel like Newell found his groove.

In conclusion, I can't help but say that, as a fan of the book--a big fan--I was more than pleased with the cinematic adaption, despite the problems some of the production teams' decisions presented. While I would have liked to see better pacing and inclusion of enough scenes between Bratt and Mezzogiorno to establish the properly composed love triangle, the acting, setting, and cinematography all teamed up to build a beautiful adaption of a beautiful love story, regardless of what professional critics said. Was there gratuitous nudity, plentiful sexual encounters, and two men, one who won an Oscar for playing a psychopathic killer and one who played a cop on Law and Order, trying to woo an Italian actress playing a Columbian? Yes on all counts. But, while it may sound strange to say, even with the obvious failings, Newell managed to tell the story faithfully, and in the process, evoke the beauty of that very novel. Gabriel García Márquez may have written better novels than this one, and Mike Newell has surely made better films, but I am grateful that, together, they allowed me to see one of my favorite novels come to life.

Caricature Oversaturation

So the local paper, the Sacramento Bee, loves to pretend like they're in the know more than they are. While Nick Peters, recently nominated for the Baseball Hall of Fame, is a reporter in the traditional sense, the Sports section offers a cavalcade of commentary that stretches from able to laughable. There's a decided Giants slant--I challenge anyone to counter that assessment--and hence the coverage of the just-as-local Oakland Athletics suffers. But, desperate to cover up this lack of knowledge, the Sacramento Bee sports journalists employ the wildly exciting technique of outdated caricature to convey the idea that they care more about the A's than, you know, the presence of the River Cats suggests they should. Take note of a line from Ailene Voisin's column today about the consequences of the Danny Haren and Nick Swisher trades:

Even Beane has changed. The longtime A's executive spends more time chatting with doctors than calculating his beloved on-base statistics. He has become a master of late-night thievery, having poached excessively from all of his A's farm teams and accounting for an absurd 180 moves alone with the River Cats.

What we see here is an attempt to paint Billy Beane as something beyond his role as MLB GM, and an antiquated image of Beane as the Moneyball stochastic hero that Michael Lewis wove. While it's admirable that the Bee staff has pop-culture caliber knowledge about what amounts to a two-sentence summary of Lewis' bestseller, it serves no purpose beside pure caricature, building a public persona about Beane that doesn't necessarily fit. It just seems lazy to me, because there's no way that Voisin is attempting to glorify Beane; if she and her fellow writers did, they would likely have a better command of sabermetrics, even in the most basics forms, which their fascination with wins, losses, and RBIs--as well as the persistent OBP Billy Beane references--suggests they don't.

Putting the lazy characterization aside for a moment, then, we can also take note of a bitter stab at the A's for "poaching excessively" from the AAA champion River Cats, only to bring up the minor league stars for a "meaningless" end of the MLB season. While this sort of blatant fandom is, at its most optimistic, understandable, it completely misses both the point of AAA baseball's existence and the players' (Daric Barton, Jerry Blevins, etc.) own interests. In the first regard, minor league baseball exists for the betterment of the MLB franchises; nice as it is that the River Cats typically excel in the standings, winning AAA championship banners does little more than decorate Raley Field. As for the latter, if you're Barton or Blevins, what do you prefer: sticking around for a meaningless minor league championship game in Oklahoma City, or collecting Major League pension time and making your Major League debut? If even one minor leaguer would pick the former, then the drug testing policies in MiLB aren't sufficient.