Sports Archives - Jane Heller

What I Read, Watched and Ate: Favorites of Summer 2015

September 9, 2015

I know, I know. I could have posted a pic of late summer tomatoes, which have been luscious here in CT. Or corn on the cob, fish on the grill, a lobster roll or an ice cream cone. Instead, I gave you a Cobb salad. Big deal, you think. But it’s not just any Cobb. The one above was a creation of one of my new favorite places, Kingsley Tavern in Kent. It’s made of really fresh romaine, avocado, blue cheese, tomatoes, hard-boiled egg, celery, chicken and – drum roll – the crispiest, most delicious bacon I’ve ever tasted, all dressed in a light, tangy vinaigrette. I craved a salad on a hot steamy night recently, and Kingsley’s Cobb delivered.

But there were many treats of summer of the edible variety: the grilled prawns at Purdy’s Farmer & the Fish in North Salem, the swordfish at Terra Sole in Ridgefield, the chocolate tasting dessert at Arethusa Al Tavolo, the blueberry pie from the Bridgewater Village Store. To say I ate well this summer would be an understatement.

I was a book glutton too. I devoured novel after novel over the past few months, and while I didn’t love every single one, I did love reading in a joyous, leisurely way. Among my favorite novels were: Days of Awe by Lauren Fox, Mermaids in Paradise by Lydia Millet, Among the Ten Thousand Things by Julia Pierpont, Hausfrau by Jill Alexander Essbaum, Disclaimer by Renee Knight, Luckiest Girl Alive by Jessica Knoll, The Daylight Marriage by Heidi Pitlor and Department of Speculation by Jenny Offill. I’m looking forward to a whole crop of fall books.

In addition to sports on TV, classic movies on TCM and non-stop news on CNN (it was the summer of Trump, after all), I belatedly discovered Weeds and binge watched the Showtime series with abandon. What great writing, not to mention the performances by Mary-Louise Parker and Elizabeth Perkins. I also went back and re-watched The Affair, also on Showtime, in anticipation of the first episode of Season 2 on October 4th.

I only went to a handful of movies in the theaters this summer, and the few I saw didn’t come close to making a favorites list. “Love and Mercy,” the Beach Boys movie that garnered mostly good reviews, was long and meandering, and though Paul Dano was great and the inside-the-studio stuff was interesting, I was less than enthralled. “Trainwreck,” which I expected to adore because of the hilarious Amy Schumer, wasn’t funny. I don’t know how else to say it. I sat there waiting to laugh and didn’t. And “Ricki and the Flash” was fun in the way it’s always fun to watch Meryl Streep do her thing, but was otherwise forgettable. I can’t wait for the big Oscar-y movies to open. On my must-see list are “Grandma” with Lily Tomlin, Aaron Sorkin and Danny Boyle’s “Steve Jobs,” “Black Mass,” the Whitey Bulger story starring Johnny Depp and “Carol” with Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara, to name a few.

Bring on fall!

Movie Night: "Muhammed Ali's Greatest Fight"

October 6, 2013

If I hadn’t read an interview with Christopher Plummer in yesterday’s Daily Beast, I might not have known this HBO original movie was on last night, but I’m glad I did because the movie was utterly fascinating.

Based on a book of the same name and directed by Stephen Frears (“The Queen” with Helen Mirren and many other great films), it takes place in 1967 when Ali was convicted of draft dodging. He’d changed his named from Cassius Clay after joining the Nation of Islam and refused to be inducted into the military because he was opposed to the Vietnam War on religious grounds. I remember it well. I was a big boxing fan in those days and watched all the Ali-Frazer/Ali-Foreman fights and Ali was just about the biggest sports story on the planet in those days.

Stripped of his world heavyweight championship title, he spent four years fighting his conviction, embarking on a college tour to make money. At the time he found a sympathetic audience, since campuses across America were in a state of protest against the war. In 1971, his case finally reached the Supreme Court and it’s in the Court that this movie resides.

What a cast. Frank Langella plays Nixon’s pal Chief Justice Warren Burger. Plummer plays Justice John Harlan. Danny Glover plays Justice Thurgood Marshall, the only black man on the bench. Barry Levinson, Fritz Weaver, Ed Begley Jr. play other justices. The real co-star to Plummer is Benjamin Walker, who plays Plummer’s clerk, Kevin Connolly, a liberal who didn’t agree with his boss’s positions, particularly his decision to join the Chief Justice’s opinion that Ali’s case should be upheld, not overturned.

The drama of the legal battle involving these giants of acting, expertly interwoven with archival footage of Ali, boxing, student protests, Nixon, etc. make this a must-see movie. I’m sure HBO will repeat it throughout the month. Plummer, in particular, as a conservative justice who values fairness – and who’s dying of cancer and has a wife with dementia – is superb.

Movie Night: "American Masters/Billy Jean King"

September 10, 2013

I was really looking forward to this documentary and it didn’t disappoint. I’ve been a tennis fan and a Billie Jean fan since I was old enough to hold a racquet. I remember going out to my neighborhood courts and hitting against the backboard for hours, wishing I could play like she did. And when she spearheaded the women’s tour and fought for equal prize money for women, she became a larger-than-life heroine for me (although I admit it was Chris Evert whose clothes and hair I tried to copy).

Tonight’s PBS American Masters doc covers her childhood in SoCal, how her father encouraged her to play sports, how a girl at school invited her to play tennis at the country club, how she bought her first racquet and practiced on the public courts, how she married her college sweetheart. It moves into her career, both as an amateur and pro player, and there’s lots of great footage of her athleticism and shot making. It explores the feminist movement’s affect on her and vice versa, how she was outed after an affair with her secretary became a public nightmare for her, and of course how she beat Bobby Riggs in the match of the century.

With testimonials from everyone from Hillary Clinton, Elton John and Gloria Steinem to fellow tennis stars like Evert, the Williams sisters and Maria Sharapova (where were Martina and Steffi?) to her ex-husband, her brother and her longtime partner, the doc gives us an adoring portrait of King but not a white-wash job either. I came away thinking I wish I could meet her. Her energy and drive are still as contagious as they were back in the day.

Movie Day: "Trouble With the Curve"

September 23, 2012

I had to skip the Q&A after today’s screening with the producer and screenwriter, so I missed hearing what they had to say. But I enjoyed the movie itself in spite of my reluctance to see it. For one thing, the reviews were mixed. For another, I got the sense that Clint would be playing Clint – the same crabby, crusty guy from “Gran Torino,” “Million Dollar Baby,” etc. For a third, I wasn’t up for two hours of baseball cliches, no matter how big a baseball fan I am.

However, the movie got to me, cliches and all.

Yes, Clint was crabby, very much the guy who talked to a chair at the Republican convention. The raised eyebrow, the lip curl, the salty putdowns – all in evidence.

But then there was Amy Adams, who can do no wrong, as far as I’m concerned. She created magic as Clint’s lawyer daughter – feisty yet vulnerable, tough-talking but charming – plus she had the best hair of any woman I’ve ever seen (she should do shampoo commercials).

Justin Timberlake continues to grow as an actor, and he was perfect as the former pitcher-turned-scout and Amy’s love interest.

There aren’t a lot of surprises in “Trouble With the Curve” – the villains are one-note villainous, the good guys (especially John Goodman) have hearts of gold and there’s no question how the story will end. And the big “reveal” – the reason Clint and Amy have been estranged – was downright weak. But I’m a romantic sap and a sucker for schmaltz and I love baseball movies, so I walked out of the theater feeling glad I’d come.

On TV Over The Weekend

March 11, 2012

Saturday night was the premiere of HBO’s highly publicized “Game Change,” based on the book about the the 2008 presidential campaign. The filmmakers decided to concentrate not on the Hillary-Obama-Edwards story lines but rather focus their adaptation on the McCain-Palin dynamic, more specifically the way Palin morphed from relative obscurity to national sensation.

http://youtu.be/pVDYT04FyZQ

So much has been written about the film, and both McCain and Palin have blasted the filmmakers for painting a wildly inaccurate picture of what really happened.

Methinks they doth protest too much.

Sure, screenwriters take dramatic liberties. I’m not entirely convinced that McCain curses a lot, for example, nor would we have any way of knowing whether Palin curled up in a ball on the floor of her hotel room one night.

But what rang true for me were the intricacies of the political process – the same process that had me hooked from the opening scene of “The Ides of March.” I love watching how the handlers, the advisers, the strategists shape campaigns, choose running mates, tell candidates what to say and what not to say, figure out how to attack the other guy, all of it. “Game Change” delivered on that score. It also did a great job of weaving in the media covering the campaign – from Katie Couric to the gang at CNN.

As for Julianne Moore’s portrayal of Palin, there were moments when I was distracted by her accent. She looked uncannily like Palin and took great pains to get the mangled syntax right. But I didn’t feel as if I were watching the former Alaska governor; I felt as if I were watching an actress playing her. Still, it’s nearly impossible to take on the role of a real-life person, particularly one with such a vivid image, so Moore deserves all the awards that are certain to come her way at Emmy time.

Mostly what struck me is the shallow way we pick leaders in this country. Presidential candidates seek out running mates that will help the ticket, plain and simple, in order to win elections. I’m still trying to get over Dan Quayle.

Moving on to Sunday night, I tuned in to ESPN’s documentary about Magic Johnson, “The Announcement.”

I didn’t move to SoCal until 2001, so I wasn’t in L.A. for Magic Madness and didn’t follow the Lakers. That said, it would have been hard to miss the Magic phenomenon. I was as stunned as everyone else watching his press conference and hearing him say he was HIV positive. I had lost a dear friend to AIDS in the ’80s and the very name of the virus frightened me.

What I didn’t get at the time was the amazing spirit of Johnson. In the doc, he admits that he went through a depression after his diagnosis and forced retirement – who wouldn’t? – but thanks to an assist from Pat Riley and his own indomitable will, he worked his way back into the game and into a whole new set of achievements.

I found the doc very moving; the scene where Johnson goes to talk to the kids and comforts the little girl who’s crying made me cry. And the whole subplot with Karl Malone was very compelling.

I expected the film to be sort of a puff piece, but there was genuine emotion as well as candor from those who spoke on camera. I learned a lot – not the least of which is what a really nice guy Magic Johnson seems to be.

Sheep, Pigs And A Psychic

August 21, 2011

Today was the annual Bridgewater County Fair.

I know. Not my usual entertainment of choice, but it was right around the corner from the house where we’re staying here in Connecticut, so it seemed worth checking out. Plus, Michael and I were accompanied by our twitter pal, @Gweeds, and she made it even more fun.

First up was a visit with the sheep. Baaaaaah.

They were warming up for their big event: the sheep herding show.

They got chased by a Border Collie and everybody clapped.

Then we moved on to the pigs. Apparently, “hot dog pig races” are a big deal around these parts.

What are hot dog pig races, you ask? They’re little contests where pigs with names like “Jerry Swinefeld” and “Brad Barbecue Pitt” and “Kevin Bacon” run around a track.

And a county fair wouldn’t be complete without a reading by a psychic, who sits at a booth waiting for suckers like me.

The best part was when @Gweeds, who was dressed in Yankees gear as were Michael and I, handed me a Yankees shopping bag with a special gift inside. She’d made it herself. It was a Yankees “rally bra,” and Michael gave it an up close look.

The beard and the bra really go together, don’t they?

The only disappointment was that we couldn’t find the pie-eating contest or even any pies. What’s a country fair without pie???????????

Federer Lost Today, But At Least He Didn't Go Nuts

June 29, 2011

Instead, Roger Fed behaved like the gentleman he is, congratulated his opponent, spoke to the media and told fans at Wimbledon he’d be back next year. In other words, he was disappointed but didn’t act like a spoiled brat about it…

Unlike those in this highly entertaining Huffington Post highlights reel of tennis temper tantrums.

My favorite among the nine videos has to be McEnroe – just for old time’s sake.

I used to play a lot of tennis. I mean A LOT. I grew up next door to public courts and loved to hit against their backboard when I was too young to get into actual games. I continued to play right through college, where I was on the women’s varsity team, and then at tennis clubs where I won tournaments in singles and doubles. I only had one meltdown and it didn’t happen on the court. It was after I got home.

I had just played in the first round of a tournament I was supposed to win. My opponent was a woman who hit nothing but soft stuff – lobs and bloopers and junk – and I was so frustrated I lost focus and, eventually, the match. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could my opponent. And the people watching were equally stunned.

I was very polite as I shook hands at the net, then got into my car and started driving…and driving. That’s when I felt the tears – big, stupid, snot-inducing, crybaby tears – and kept driving. By the time I got to my house it was late and I was a mess.

I was such a mess that I forgot I was having guests for dinner.

They were there when I walked in. They asked what was wrong with me, given that my face was red and puffy. I said I had just lost a tennis match.

“You were crying because of tennis?” said the wife, incredulous.

I nodded.

“That’s a relief,” said the husband. “We thought somebody died.”

I was embarrassed – embarrassed enough not to have a hissy over a match ever again.

Ladies Who Grunt

June 22, 2011

No, this isn’t a post about women who make loud noises during sex. It’s about tennis. Apparently, the officials at Wimbledon are displeased by the ladies who make loud noises during play. The Daily Beast had a countdown today of the worst offenders. Personally, I think Venus Williams should be on the list. She doesn’t grunt; she screams.

Back in the day it was Monica Seles who famously annoyed Martina Navratilova and Steffi Graf with her grunts.

When you hear her, however, you realize how much worse the current players are.

I wish they’d shut up and just hit the ball, I really do. It’s annoying.

What I’m Reading: Andre Agassi’s "Open"

March 13, 2011

I’m not a fan of celebrity memoirs but I am a fan of professional tennis, so Agassi’s bestseller was one of the first ones I downloaded on my new Kindle. I’m about half way through it and I just have to say I get why it has garnered such great reviews. I really do.

Most books in this genre are very “And then I did, and then I said, and blah blah blah.” There’s very little self-exploration or even an attempt to understand why an action was taken or an emotion was felt. Not so in Agassi’s story. It’s as if we’re embedded in his brain as he tries to deal with his angry, abusive father, climbs his way up the pro tennis ladder, wins matches, loses matches, sets fire to things, rebels against authority. He never makes excuses for himself; he simply reveals himself, for better or worse.

What really amazes me is how much self-loathing he experienced as a young player. I always thought professional athletes – especially champions – had nerves of steel, unshakable egos, one-track minds. Agassi lets us see just how insecure he really was, even as he was beating the best in the world.

I haven’t finished the book, as I said, but I’m already recommending it to everyone I talk to. There was a time when I thought Agassi was all about “image” (his Nike ad slogan was “Image is everything”). But there’s nothing superficial about this guy. Nothing at all.

Oh, did I mention that the book is really well written? That’s no small thing, either.