Harry Kalas passes away at 73

[NOTE] As promised, here is a tribute to the late Harry Kalas in the form of a special guest post from Dave.

"We lost our voice today" - Phillies President, David Montgomery

The Philadelphia Phillies family and the entire baseball world lost a beloved figure today in Harry Kalas, when he was found collapsed in the broadcast booth just after noon. He was rushed to the hospital where he was pronounced dead. Kalas was 73, and in his 38th season of broadcasting Phillies baseball.

While the entire city of Philadelphia is in a state of shock, we must remember that Harry died doing what he loved, which is something that cannot be said for most who have passed on. A man who called over 6,000 games in his career, his voice will always be synonymous with Phillies baseball.

For 38 years Philadelphians welcomed Harry Kalas into their homes whether on TV or radio; many can remember listening on tiny transistor radios when games were not televised. 610 WIP's Anthony Gargano recalled stories of his childhood, when his parents would order him to sleep on a school night, and the Phillies would be playing a 10 p.m. game on the West Coast. He would hide a silver transistor radio and fall asleep to the sweet sounds of Harry The K with the radio under his pillow.

Others in the Philadelphia media echoed these thoughts, affirming that there will never be a classier individual in the business.

"He was just such a genuinely nice guy, and there will never be anyone else like him", said my uncle, KYW 1060's Ed Benkin. "I remember meeting him when I was an intern at 6 ABC in college, and asking him to come on my talk radio show at Rowan. Without hesitation he gave me his home number and agreed. I still have the cassette tape of that show, and will keep it forever."

Baseball is very different from the other three major sports: Because of the downtime between pitchers, you hear stories and anecdotes from the announcers and really get to know them. Harry Kalas was a part of all of our families.

Personally, I know there were times at school or work when I would have a rough day, but come home and put on a Phillies game; things seemed just a little better when Harry was at the mic. He could get you through a tough day, or an entire two-hour drive.

Every kid in this area who played baseball with their friends, or little league, has envisioned in their heads Harry Kalas announcing their at bat. I know I certainly did.

Everyone has done an Harry Kalas impersonation. Some are better than others. But there will never be a voice like Harry's.

We'll always remember the "Long Drives" and the "Outta Heres." The "Can you believe it's" and the "Chase Utley, you are the man's." None of us will forget the nicknames of Mitchie-poo and the Krukker, or Mike Schmidt becoming Mich-ael Jack Schmidt.

I am sure when Harry got to the pearly gates of Heaven, his best friend in the world Richie Ashburn, "Whitey," was waiting there with a cigar, a gin and tonic and a few kind words. While we'll never hear him call another inning of Phillies baseball, somewhere up there, he is calling every pitch with "His Whiteness."

As for this Phillies fan, I know I'll never be able to watch another Phillies home run without the echoes of "Swing and a long drive..." in the back of my head. He'll never be replaced or duplicated. Growing up -- aside from my father's-- his is the most familiar voice of my childhood.

Harry Kalas is a part of every memory I have of Phillies baseball. From Mitch Williams striking out Bill Pecota to win the 1993 Pennant, to the heart break of Joe Carter's home run. From the Brett Myers curve ball to send the Phillies to the post season for the first time in 15 years, to Eric Hinske chasing a Brad Lidge slider low and away. Harry is a part of everything, and watching a Phillies ballgame will never be the same.

Harry, we'll forever love and remember everything about you. You will be deeply missed by all of us.

Proposition 8 passing

NOTE: This is a special-guest feature from my coworker (and fellow blogger), Geoff, regarding the recent passing of Proposition 8. Check out his blog and visit often!

I've been asked to write this post about Proposition 8 passing in California not only because I have a super-awesome blog about facing anti-gay prejudice, but also, I suspect, because I seem to have picked up the "gay beat" at the office.

For those not in the know, Proposition 8 was a referendum passed this November in California by a margin of 52-48. It actively removes gay couples' previously legal right to marry under the state constitution, defeating a recent state Supreme Court decision saying that very constitution afforded us those rights.

The way in which it was done has brought about a lawsuit, something I plan to post about on my blog in the future. The proposition's passage was a surprise for many because early polls showed the "no" votes winning by a decent margin. A last-minute cash infusion from certain right-wing causes, notably the Church of Latter-Day Saints, helped the "yes" side air a great number of misleading ads and apparently pushed them to victory.

Although it passed along with similar referendums in Florida and Arizona (where it had previously failed), and an initiative in Arkansas (where gay marriage is already illegal) banning unmarried couples from adopting, Prop 8 is particularly unsettling for several reasons, mostly because it actively took rights away, using a document that's supposed to grant them. That sets a dangerous precedent that should scare us all.

Protesters across the nation demonstrated their displeasure with the passage of California's Proposition 8 on Saturday, and with any luck, gave the gay-rights movement some much-needed momentum. I know a number of people who were involved in the various demonstrations, and I've heard they were moving, massive, and momentous.

My friend Dima Otvertchenko called Saturday "a day to remember." He also took some great pictures of the rally in Los Angeles, and they make me feel all warm, fuzzy and empowered inside. Check 'em out:

You can see more of them here.

My friend Nori, above left, told me she wore her rainbow Batman shirt specifically for the march. "Though I suspect the 'Straight Against H8' sign Dima and I had broke a few hearts," she noted sagely. (Soon you'll be able to see her thoughts on marching over at her own blog.)

Sara Perle, a friend of mine who's a law student in New York City, says The New York Times underestimated the protest there with its guess of 4,000 people. She told me that a friend of hers who volunteered had a somewhat better view than she did and thought there were about 20,000 people there.

"I could only see a very small part of it because it was so packed I couldn't get around the corner!" Sara said. "They had traffic basically down to one lane on Broadway and people totally packed on either side of the street."

She also suggested you look up estimates of the turnout at the protest nearest you.

Another friend of mine posted a note on Facebook describing the rally in Santa Barbara, Calif. which he said featured speakers from all walks of life talking about why this is something we need to protest.

It all sounds very moving, and I'm sorry to have missed it, but it was my boyfriend's birthday this weekend, and he had to work on protest day. While I work a normal week, his days off are Thursday and Friday, and though he managed to get Sunday (his actual b-day) off, he had no such luck with that day in-between. I live in central New Jersey while he lives 2.5 hours north, outside of Poughkeepsie, N.Y., so seeing each other takes a bit of planning.

That means that while everyone was protesting, I was up in Fishkill, N.Y. doing laundry, grabbing a last-minute card and one final gift, and then going out to dinner.

I rationalized missing everything by deciding that celebrating him would be my own form of protest. While I didn't get them to do the birthday "gong parade" to our intimate table for two at O'Sho in Poughkeepsie, I did give him a pile of presents the next morning, making him a very happy 25-year-old.

So to all of you who protested, please accept my sincere thanks! And to you who voted for Prop 8, I say this:

Too bad! I still love him, and that's not something you can change with a poorly reasoned law.

I remain firmly convinced that history will be on our side, and that in our lifetime we'll be able to get a real, 100% legal and federally approved marriage. But I'm not about to sit around waiting for someone else to make it happen!

RELATED LINKS
Gay in Public

"World F----ing Champions"

NOTE: I promised a "Yay Philadelphia" post, so here's another special guest post from Dave, my Philadelphia sports fan friend. If you missed Chase Utley's speech at the celebratory parade (from which this post gets its title), click here.

"The Philadelphia Phillies are World Champions."

I truly never thought I would ever get a chance to say those words. From the bottomless pit that was Philadelphia sports for the last 25 years, Philadelphia finally has a world championship to celebrate. And it feels damn good.

After a 46-hour rain delay, the Phillies were able to edge out the Rays 4-3 to win the World Series. We’ll always remember the names of Eric Bruntlett --who scored the winning run-- Pedro Feliz --who got the winning RBI-- and Eric Hinske --who was the last out of the game and was struck out by Brad Lidge.

Words cannot express what I felt when that last strike was recorded. There are no words. Those who are 4-for-4 fans (Eagles, Phillies, Flyers, Sixers) know what that feeling was. It was something special that cannot be replicated. I really wish I had more words, but there aren’t any. If you’re not a part of this fan base, you’re probably thinking I’m crazy, but those who are a part of it know exactly what I mean.

After the game there was joyous celebration throughout the city. Unfortunately, there were certain cases of idiocy. Cars were flipped over, stores encountered vandalism, and even some police officers were assaulted. Keep in mind, that despite the 117 arrests that night, there were literally MILLIONS of people who celebrated responsibly and correctly. Those who wanted to be jackasses were arrested. If the national media chooses to focus only on 117 bad guys, then shame on them. Philadelphia fans should not care how the national media portrays us right now. This is our time to celebrate. This time is about the people of this city who deserve it and pour their hearts out for their sports teams.

There are so many stories that can be heard on talk radio about loved ones who are no longer with us. The last definitive memory I have of my late grandfather was in July of 1993, just three months before he passed away. He picked me up from school and we watched a baseball game. It was Kevin Stocker’s first game as a Phillie. The game was nothing special: Phillies blow a lead in the 9^th, Dykstra wins it in the bottom of the inning, a pretty typical game for that team. The point is that baseball bonded us, as it has bonded many families, particularly in this area.

This was truly a magical group of players. There was just something different about this team that you could feel for a long time. From the moment Shane Victorino hit the grand slam off CC Sabathia, the most dominant pitcher in baseball; it truly felt like this team was writing its own script.

And so the city finally has a championship to celebrate. The Phillies have ended the 25 years of broken hearts. Somewhere, Ronde Barber is still running toward the end zone with that football, and it doesn’t matter. Donovan McNabb may (or may not, depending on who you ask) be throwing up on that last drive in the Super Bowl, and it doesn’t matter. Most importantly, Mitch Williams, you’re forgiven.

The city that was once starved for a world championship can now taste the fruits of victory. From the heart of this sports fan, I can only say thank you, and please Sports Gods, don’t make me wait another 25 years.

In 1975, when the Flyers were one game away from their first Stanley Cup, their coach Fred Shero gave an excellent quote. “Win tonight, walk together forever.”

The 2008 Philadelphia Phillies surely will.

RELATED LINKS
Another curse broken
Or don't blame it on the rain...
Blame it on the rain
Taco, taco, taco!
World Series set to go
Boston wins World Snoozefest
Speedy Gonzalez
Yo quiero free taco
Dem's fightin' Phils

Or don't blame it on the rain...

[UPDATE] The remainder of Game Five will be played tomorrow, Wednesday, beginning at 8:37 p.m.

NOTE: This is a special-guest feature from my friend, Dave, who is the biggest Philadelphia sports fan I know. As an anti-Philadelphia sports fan myself, I obviously did not plan to write a sympathetic post in opposition of the events of last night's World Series Game Five, but I know that the suspension is drawing huge criticism and who better to air the grievances than a tortured Philadelphia sports soul?

The stage was set last night. It was supposed to be the night that the so-called curse was lifted, and Philadelphia had a sports championship to celebrate.

God had other plans.

We all know what happened: Delayed after 5 ½ innings; play will resume when "weather conditions permit." [see the logistics surrounding the suspension, below]

No one can be blamed for what happened with the weather. If it’s going to rain, it’s going to rain. Nothing can be done; however, the way it was handled was perhaps the biggest disgrace that Commissioner Bud Selig has ever been apart of. And if you’re a baseball fan, you know there were many--including but not limited to the tie at the all star game in 2002, and the continuous blind eye to blatant use of performance-enhancing drugs.

What the casual fan may not have seen last night was Selig’s post-game press conference, which was an absolute joke. It was an obvious attempt to deflect blame off of himself. You can go back and read the transcript yourself, but he essentially blames the groundskeeper, and then the weatherman at the stadium for letting it get out of hand.

The real problem, however, may not even be Bud Selig; it is rooted in the fact that these games don’t start until about 8:45 pm. There is no reason that these games can’t start at 7:30 or 8:00 on the dot. Major League Baseball wonders why kids aren’t as interested in baseball as they used to be. Perhaps it’s because they’ve never been allowed, or physically able to stay up until 1 am to see a team experience the joy of winning a World Series.

Nevertheless, the city of Philadelphia deserves better. The wait is now on and the worst part is, the fans of this city don’t even have a clue as to when the final 3 ½ innings of this game are going to be played. The anticipation is intense.

Look at it this way Philadelphia: The wait has been 23 years, 6 months, 28 days since the 76ers completed the sweep of the L.A. Lakers in the 1983 NBA finals. What’s one (or two) more days?

And hey, it could be worse: Game Four of the 1911 World Series between the Giants and the Athletics in Philadelphia was postponed for six days due to rain.

RELATED LINKS
Blame it on the rain
Taco, taco, taco!
World Series set to go
Boston wins World Snoozefest
Speedy Gonzalez
Yo quiero free taco

NYC Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week

NOTE: This is a special guest feature from my aspiring fashionista bff, Rachel--a student at Parsons. She had the incredible chance to be a part of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week this year, and I stalked her down to write about it.

I received the opportunity to go to Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week in New York City; my Public Relations teacher at Parson’s School of Design is head of Public Relations for IMG Fashion. This year, she allowed the students in her class to attend the festivities if they were able to get there. Was I able to get there? Let’s just say after 10 hours, one fashionable outfit and one huge lie to the company I work for, I was there.

After an anxious bus ride and 30 minutes of traffic outside of Lincoln Tunnel, I arrived at the bus terminal around 11:15 a.m. I immediately ran to a Starbucks for an iced vanilla soy latte (soooo New York) so I could get my energy level up for my big day.

Around 12:25pm, I was caffeinated and approaching the tents at Bryant Park. I have to admit that I got a little choked up when I saw the entrance to the tents.

When I arrived, there were paparazzi, camera crews, reporters, journalists, body guards and tourists snapping away with their cameras. My teacher told me --via phone conversation-- to approach the body guard to let me in--Because she is a VIP (ooh la la), they gave me no problems and I was let through the crowds.

When I got inside, I met up with another student from my class and we were greeted by my teacher’s assistant. My teacher had to be at a lunch for Saks 5^th Avenue. What a terrible life she has.

The atrium of Fashion Week was unlike anything I’ve ever seen--gorgeous displays from all of the high-end sponsors, a full service bar, camera crews, important people in the fashion industry...

My teacher’s assistant took us on a tour. Words cannot even describe how amazing it was to see all of the action behind the scenes. I got to see where all the collections are stored, where models get their hair and makeup done and the lounge where celebrities hang out before and after the shows. It was amazing to see how much work is put into this week long celebration of fashion.

At the end of our tour, my teacher’s assistant told us that we would have the chance to attend the Rebecca Taylor fashion show that was about to start. If there were an award for biggest inner freak out moment, I would have won. She escorted us into a giant room and directed us toward the standing room section behind all of the seats. Even from our spot, we could see everything.

But a few minutes before the show, the room was getting crowded; almost all of the seats were taken and it was started to get cramped in the standing room area. Suddenly, an usher pointed to me and the girl from my class and told us to come forward. We did as we were told, only to find out that we were going to be filling two seats in the third row.

I was sitting directly behind the celebrities in the first row including (from left to right):
Rashida Jones, Leven Rambin, Alexie Gilmore, Mena Suvari, Simone Sestito, Mark Indelicato, Veronica Webb and Bijou Phillips. (Note: That green arrow is Rachel)

The show was completely amazing and Rebecca really demonstrated a glamorous, bohemian chic vibe in her collection. Her use of pattern and color were eye-catching and girlie and her silhouettes were very feminine with delicate details. Although she is not a big-name designer, from what I saw, she definitely deserves more recognition within the industry. I would buy these clothes any day (if I had money).

After attending Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, I can attest that I am truly inspired by the entire process of fashion and it’s impact on the world. I just wish that I had Jess with me to experience it all! (Thanks, Rachie!!!)

Tryst under a parasite?

NOTE: A special guest feature for the holiday season, by Jerc Store correspondent, word to the ferg.

With the holiday season upon us, many local stores and markets are stocked up on the quintessential decorations. A recent trip to a local supermarket provided me with a wide selection of holiday items in various shapes, sizes and colors. In the hunt for some festive apartment décor, I found the holiday classic mistletoe.

That’s right, the $2.99 bunch of leaves and berries that every December gives hope to us guys who don’t exactly look like Tom Cruise…

I quickly purchased this sprig of splendor and when I returned to my apartment, I cunningly placed it just above one of the many doors in my apartment with the hopes of catching a fair maiden beneath it.

After standing under that compact bushel of delight for about 10 minutes in my empty apartment, two thoughts came to mind:

1. Can I really get any more pathetic than this?
   
2. And what is this mistletoe nonsense about anyway?
   

Not wanting to actually know the answer to the first question, I decided to investigate the second. What is it about this petite plant that allows average people to kiss beautiful people every December?

According to the book of Google, Mistletoe is actually a rootless aerial parasite that attaches itself and lives off of trees (mostly apple trees). The form most often used around the holidays is called Phoradendron Flavescens and is native on the Coast New Jersey to Florida. While interesting, I wouldn’t recommend using the parasite fact with anyone you are actually trying to “catch” (oddly enough, parasites don’t do it for everyone...).

But wait, it gets better! Some of the oldest references to mistletoe are paired with the ancient belief that the plant was actually propagated from bird droppings. You read correctly: In ancient times, it was a commonly accepted idea that plants and animals could spontaneously materialize from dung. This is actually how the parasite received its name. Originally called “misteltan,” in Anglo-Saxon language, “mistel” literally means dung and “tan” means twig.

So mistletoe literally means, “dung on a twig.” How romantic! There is nothing quite like locking lips under a product of poop. I would recommend that you keep this fact to yourself as well. (I can’t speak for everyone, but I believe that dung and kissing should never mix).

So, now that we understand the science of mistletoe, how did we get to the kissing part? Well, the roots of mistletoe use are commonly attributed to the Celtic Druids who believed that the parasite contained power to aid in fertility and served as an aphrodisiac. (Now we know why the Druids didn’t last…the berries can be poisonous!).

The Ancient Greeks also believed in the mystical powers and used it in marriage rites at their annual Saturnalia festival. As early as the middle Ages, mistletoe was being placed above doorways or barns in Europe to ward off evil spirits and witches.

In Northern Europe, mistletoe symbolized peace by which opposing sides could declare a truce or battling loved ones could kiss and make up. A combination of these legends is what eventually brought about the Victorian custom of kissing under the ball of mistletoe during the Christmas season.

Even though our beloved mistletoe has a bit of a twisted heritage, the hope of potential romance during the holiday season warms the hearts of many. Who would have ever thought that a parasite named after dung could fill so many with glee? Best of luck to all of you looking for a “catch” under the mistletoe. Happy Holidays!