Damn shame about Bourdain.
Real talent for exploring the world. His shows were consistently what was good about television.

Insane about Bourdain. Looks like past demons from Heroine and Cocaine came back, according to news.

Man, this one hurts. Bourdain is one of my heroes. Such a kind, adventurous, pain in the ass. His shows are not only two of the best travel shows to ever air, they are simply two of the best television shows period to ever air.

Time to binge some No Reservations or Parts Unkown and learn about Cambodia or Guatemala or even Houston again.

If there is something like a dream job in TV production, working on one of those shows would be it for me.

He seemed like the kind of guy who made friends wherever he travelled. I guess sometimes no one can pull you out of it.

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Anthony Bourdain also by suicide. This is devastating. He was an incomparable
foodie and an amazing person. RIP RIP RIP.

I know this isn't normally done, but I want to give an advanced R.I.P. to Charles Krauthammer who wrote today that he only has a few weeks to live. I haven't always agreed with his politics, but I appreciated his intelligence and his point of view.

Charles had been diagnosed with cancer last summer just as I was. And just like me, he had fought it to the point where there was absolutely no sign of the cancer as recently as a month ago. This, too, mirrors my situation in that a PET Scan last month indicated that I was completely cancer free. Unfortunately however, this is where our cases diverge. Here's Charles in his own words:

In August of last year, I underwent surgery to remove a cancerous tumor in my abdomen. That operation was thought to have been a success, but it caused a cascade of secondary complications — which I have been fighting in hospital ever since. It was a long and hard fight with many setbacks, but I was steadily, if slowly, overcoming each obstacle along the way and gradually making my way back to health.

However, recent tests have revealed that the cancer has returned. There was no sign of it as recently as a month ago, which means it is aggressive and spreading rapidly. My doctors tell me their best estimate is that I have only a few weeks left to live. This is the final verdict. My fight is over.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opini...=.bd1a18831448

I'll be flying out to Vegas next week and taking in some of the WSOP festivities in celebration of my return to good health. I'll make sure to pause to reflect on my good fortune and to offer a solemn toast to those less fortunate than me.

Helen Rosner in the New Yorker has a lovely piece on Bourdain. I think he would have liked how it ended. I would have.

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DC2LV,

Enjoy the festivities. And celebrate your ass off.

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Anthony Bourdain is so surreal.

Totally shocked.

Red Schoendienst died, great Cardinal player and then manager. And he had the perfect name for it too! He managed those great 67 and 68 World Series teams with Gibson, Brock, etc.

He was a great manager. His team broke the hearts of Red Sox fans in 67. Gibson, Brock, Cepeda, Carlton: the dominant team until the rise of The Big Red Machine.

Don't forget Curt Flood!

Maris! Briles!

Gibson to McCarver: "The only thing you know about pitching is that you can't hit it."

Dick Hughes was the workhorse pitcher of that 67 Cardinals team. he led the staff in almost every meaningful pitching category.

Broke my 13 year old heart in '67, those Cardinals.

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Danny Kirwan, guitarist for Fleetwood Mac dies aged 68.
https://edition.cnn.com/2018/06/09/e...ath/index.html

Thanks, John.


My 11-year-old heart as well. I grew up in Miami (which didn't have an MLB team at the time) and was playing Little League baseball. Being left-handed, I modeled myself after the left-handed MLB superstar of the day, Carl Yastrzemski, and adopted the Red Sox as my team. I remember taking a transistor radio to elementary school with me so that I could surreptitiously listen to parts of the World Series games. And then when school ended, running home to catch the rest of it on tv. (For you youngsters reading, there was a time when all the World Series games were played during the day.)

And 50 years later, I'm still a die-hard Red Sox fan.

In '67 I lived with my grandfather in a two family house. My parents and brothers upstairs and my grandfather and I downstairs. We would stay up late during the summer and listen to all the games from the West Coast. I don't think we missed more than a couple games the entire season.

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Funny to hear all this from all you Sox fans. It was hugely formative to the blossoming Cardinals fan in me too, naive 6-year-old kid growing up in the Missouri Ozarks, the first exposure to pro sports that I can remember. They brought a tv into school so we could watch the games in class.

As someone not born until the 80s, I enjoy reading the memories.


Watching (or listening, as it were) to baseball with grandpa is a cool memory.

I used to sit with my grandfather on his back porch listening to White Sox games on the radio. Those were terrific memories.

in the summer of '65 I watched Gibson beat the Mets at Shea. The game was a blowout and it had rained off and on, so we were able to move down to seats a few rows behind third base. Whenever Gibson's pitch smacked the catcher's mitt, I'd flinch. I didn't see how it was possible to ever beat him.

I spent most of '67 in Vietnam. During the Series I was a radio operator in a remote area but I had access to some pretty good gear that allowed me to listen to the games or get the scores. I knew a bunch of guys who were Sox fans -- but I knew rooting for the Sox would be futile. They'd ask me for the news and I'd give it to them. At least it went 7 games.

I think baseball was meant to be listened to on the radio if it can't be watched live. There's too much happening to be shown on a TV screen. I don't consider anyone a true fan until they've scored a game off the radio, preferably a transistor radio on a back porch tuned to a skip so that it has to be constantly adjusted.

I love that line from City Slickers when they are discussing baseball:

"When I was 18 and my father and I couldn't communicate about anything, we could still talk about baseball. That was real."

My dad died in 2005, and when the Red Sox won in 2004, he said he could die a happy man. He did.

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Just a little bump to remark that it's great that this thread hasn't been bumped for a week