Emergency Filler, Alternatively Titled "Emergency Ghostface Fillah"

I've said it before and now I'm saying it again: Ghostface Killah gives ridiculous interviews.  Here's one where he tells the (NSFW) story about the time he got in a shootout with the Delfonics (they were in the van with him, he wasn't shooting at them).

Here are some links to provide further context.

Gheorghasbord: Dance in Your Pants

Some of my favorite folks in the world of dance have been making moves lately, in ways both expected and not so much. 

Starting close to home, my wife and I had a pair of opportunities to see our kidlet dance live for the first time in nearly two years down in Richmond. VCUArts presented a student showcase in late October, which was the first time our daughter ever put her own choreography on stage. It was funky and a bit eerie and weird. Which is just how she wanted it. The event included a Q&A with each of the choreographers, and she got a laugh from her classmates when she said that she had a "unique movement style" and that she was seeking to create "ugly dances". Unconventional and quirky, just like her. 

A couple of weeks later, she danced in two different pieces as part of the school's Senior Showcase, which features senior class artists debuted their capstone works. Neither event was filmed, so we'll have to settle for this odd perspective of one of the rehearsals for a piece entitled 'Sacred Chaos' by Sarah Grace. Click through and you'll see it. My kid is the little one with a mullet wearing all white in the video. She got a lot of love from the crowd during a brief spotlight in the piece, which was dark and moody and insistent.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by VCU Dance Fall 2021 Seniors (@class.of.frequency)

Much farther afield, the adventures of our favorite choreographer have taken a very unique turn. We first met Jimmie Manners here at GTB when we celebrated his impact on my then 12 year-old. He's toured as a dancer with Jennifer Lopez, taught kids, and choreographed music videos. And now, in a twist he never saw coming, he's a member of the coaching staff for ION-Wheaton Ice Skating Academy (ION-WISA), teaching hip hop to world-class ice dancers.

He called to tell us about his new move over the summer, and we all thought he was punking us. Not so, as it turns out. In September 2020 the International Skating Union announced that street dance rhythms would be a required element of ice dance competitions for 2021-22. Several ice dance teams contacted our man Jimmie about working with them, and after he realized they were serious, he took on a new project. 

Jimmie and a couple of his teams just returned from Austria, where they competed in the Graz Ice Challenge. Here's video from a few weeks earlier, where Caroline Green and Michael Parsons finished third at the ISU CS Autumn Classic International 2021 in Pierrefonds Montreal, QC.

You can catch several signature Jimmie moves in the piece, including the concluding sequence. 

It is such a very cool thing seeing people create and bring something new into the world. When it's people you care about doing that, it warms one's soul right down to the ground.

In Case You Didn't Get Your Phil Yesterday

This tweet and video, posted by a great dude I went to high school with, took me mildly aback.

Oh the irony. #PhilCollins is still rocking even if he’s not walking. #Genesis pic.twitter.com/STH1CIbm4H

— Danny Rosin (@DannyRosin) November 20, 2021

As Danny is wont to do, he found the beauty in the sadness. He saw Phil Collins, once one of the most vibrant and proficient kit men/front men in rock and roll, relegated to a chair onstage. He saw the strength and defiance, the middle finger in the face of health challenges and old age.

I have to admit this... I first watched it and saw the wilt. Heard the wither. Maybe it's just that I dig Genesis a lot but don't enjoy that song. Maybe I just fail the gheorghey test on this one. Maybe I missed again.

Phil Collins and Genesis take a bit of heat from the rock intelligentsia, and they've got some of that coming to them. There was at least a modicum if not an abundance of edge to this band way back when. That faded into the ether along the way. Rock/pop became pop/rock, and then they dispensed with that pesky rock part. So be it, they made the kind of wealth that such moves sometimes beget, and Phil needed it down the stretch, what with the three divorces and such. (Unrelated: Anybody listen to Billy Joel's Glass Houses lately?)

Patrick Bateman and I have lots in common, which you probably realized right off the bat. This monologue is precisely as I see the world of Genesis. In the beginning. "I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual." Alas, Mr. Bateman goes a little crazy after that. You know, when he says, "I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece." I formally register my dispute. 

If there is a masterpiece album of the trio era of Genesis, it's either Abacab or the s/t album from '83. But there's little need in scurrying down that particular squirrel hole. If you look at the body of work between 1980 and 1986, both with Rutherford/Banks and solo, there's a treasure trove of singles worth bopping along to:

Take a listen to these old tunes again, and really listen to the drums -- more than you would otherwise. It's fairly distinctly Phil Collins. And it's some good shit, I'm telling tell you.

Actually, if you want to learn more about Phil the Shill's worth as a drummer... well, other people more in the know have written it better than I ever could. He's no Keith Moon but his fills kick a bit of ass. He hasn't Neil Peart's virtuosic skill but he has his respect. He ranks #43 on stupid Rolling Stone's stupid list of the best drummers of all time. Doesn't sound that good, but it's higher than Mick Fleetwood, Max Weinberg, AVH, and may more.

So what happened to Phil Collins? After his songwriting and recording career slowed to a stop, he'd still hit the road now and then with or without Mike and Tony. But then he had a spinal injury, two not-so-great words that don't go great at all together. Back surgeries. Nerve damage. Falls. Fractures. Oh, and pancreatitis and diabetes. There are plenty of tabloid stories as well, if you're Marls and read the NY Post.

He can't hold a drumstick. He can't play piano. He has to sit onstage. He can barely sing, it seems. 

He'll never go back into the stu-stu-studio. But he has fought through it enough to get out there and do it on a Genesis tour called "The Last Domino." Technically, there's a question mark that follows that last word. But is there really?

Who knows? He's pushing harder and doing more than most folks would have figured by looking at him. And he doesn't care anymore. He's out there. Against all odds. 

Danny was right.

But also... also... did you know??? Phil Collins played drums on a host of other people's songs. Listen for the PC sound. 

Phil Collins played on a number of songs with his old bandmate. "Intruder" is another great one. This one crushes, especially the fills after "swarm of bees"...

I had no idea...

I really had no idea...

Howard Jones did the drums himself on the album version. Then wised up for a re-release of this single with PC manning the kit.

I really REALLY had no idea...

It's the day after Thanksgiving, so this is fair game.

That's all.

GTB's Annual Thanksgiving Tradition

Some year we should figure out what GTBer is Les Nessman, or Venus Flytrap, or The Big Guy (we already know Marls is Herb Tarlek)... but until we do that, let's all just enjoy the greatest Thanksgiving-themed TV episode of all time:

 

OK, two vintage ads I think we will enjoy, and of course, Orenthal:

Whit's submission is an all-timer:

Words to Live By

“My forties are kicking my ass/And handing them to me in a margarita glass.” In a smooth opening line that makes Christopher Cross look like an amateur sailor, Jenny Lewis kicks off “Puppy and a Truck” with a realistic view of her life, complete with unconditional love from her dog and a pedal steel guitar. Welcome to Lewis’ yacht-rock era. Pour a drink and stay a while.

That's the opening graf of Rolling Stone's review of Jenny Lewis' new single, "Puppy and a Truck". I saw her play this live as she opened for Harry Styles a few months ago. It's a different sound for her, but the lyrics are terrific, and it's Jenny Freaking Lewis, people. Get your Thanksgiving week started with some easy-listenin', alt-rock-style.

We Had a Good Run

Au contraire, aphorism!

I am, by nature, an optimist. To be more specific, I'm lazy, so I assume most things are likely to work out, so I expect the best. With a few exceptions, mostly concerning things that don't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things, that philosophy has worked for me.

This places me at odds frequently with lawyers who work for my company. I argue on the regular that the risks they're pointing out in customer contracts are extremely unlikely to be made manifest, and regardless, they're risks I'm willing to accept. Out my way, counselor! I've got a business to run.

On that front, I've yet to be caught out. Largely because experience tells me that even if we screw something up with a customer, if we've built a good relationship, we can work it out without running the contract or the company into a ditch.

I say all this as preface to the main point of this essay, which is that our society is fucked because our collective experience doesn't matter at a time when too many of the foundational norms of our body politic have turned to quicksand.

It's been coming for a minute. We were shocked when Newt Gingrich decided to shut down the Federal Government back in the 90s because such a thing was unthinkable. (Whitney was less shocked than really happy for the time off.) Imagine what we'd have said back then if we were told that a sitting Congressman had Tweeted an anime video depicting the murder of a colleague and a threat to the President?

First, we would've said, "what the fuck does 'Tweeted' mean, and what is an anime?". But then after someone explained those post-modern societal features, we'd have not believed such a thing possible. Surely, though, we'd expect such a norm-violator to be roundly and unanimously sanctioned by fellow legislators. 

And just as surely, we'd have been wrong. 207 members of the House of Representatives, all Republican, did not see fit to censure Rep. Paul Gosar (R-AZ) for Tweeting such a video about fellow Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY). I understand political opponents strongly disagreeing with Rep. Ocasio-Cortez's policy views, because she's on the leftmost side of the spectrum. I do not for a moment understand how even jokey threats of violence became acceptable political discourse among adherents of one of our two major political parties. For her part, AOC's words are hard to argue with, and fell entirely upon the deafest of ears amongst those who most needed to hear them.

After his censure, Gosar once again Tweeted the offending video. Because he's a toddler meathead fuck.

Outside of the realm of politics, outrage has become one of the surest paths to profit. Alex Jones, Charlie Kirk, Jason Whitlock, Clay Travis, Jack Posobiec, and the retinue of grifting angermongers that queue up alongside them to monetize our divisions are as smart as they are opportunistic. There's gold in them thar clicks. 

Good job, good effort

This reliable group of rage amplifiers team up with shadowy manipulators like the Koch Brothers to drive real outcomes in our world. The wholly specious Critical Race Theory nonsense centered in my county this autumn was birthed by a dude named Christopher Rufo, funded by a Byzantine network of folks who couldn't find Loudoun County on a map, handled poorly by Terry McAuliffe, and deftly exploited by Glenn Youngkin all the way to the Governor's mansion in Richmond.

Tom Nichols, author of The Death of Expertise and a reliable chronicler of the decline of civil engagement assesses things well in an excellent newsletter piece in The Atlantic.

Unfortunately, we’ve become a nation, to steal a line from Peggy Noonan, of “sullen paranoids,” in which millions of us have embraced a toxic combination of fantasy and stupidity. This is more than just the revival of conspiracy theories, which always lurk just beneath the surface of every society. This is far worse. From “microchips in the vaccines” to QAnon, from Venezuelan voting machines to Russian-hacked voting machines, from faked moon landings to “January 6 was antifa or the FBI or maybe both,” too many of our fellow citizens are adrift, lost, freaked-out, and willing to believe almost anything, especially if it helps to support their preexisting political narratives and tribal loyalties.

I could go on, but most readers of this here blog have at least a passing understanding of the things Dr. Nichols and I describe. That's all setup for this punch line.

I don't think there's a way back, at least in my lifetime.

Partisan division was once about policy with a soupcon of racism thrown in. And yes, the Democrats were the racists. Or, to be clear, the more racist party. Now division a cultural touchstone. 59% of Republicans in a recent poll agreed that supporting Donald Trump was a prerequisite to being a member of the GOP. Not supporting a strong military, or lower taxes, or small government. Supporting Donald Trump. To harvest liberal tears, one assumes. A goddamn vaccine, something we give our children 29 times before they're 18 months old, became a symbol of which team you're on. We are a deeply unserious people.

And given the state of legislative gerrymandering, the GOP's generally better organization, the pandemic's continued drag on...well, everything, it's highly likely that the 2022 elections are dismal for Democrats. Which will send us into a deeper spiral of bad governance, rewarding political extremism  and escalating anger on both sides.

It will, my friends, get much worse before it gets better.

Reasonable minds may disagree, and Nichols suggests a path, saying, "But I am convinced (and I’ll return to this theme in the future in this newsletter) that the remedy for saving our corroded public life lies within ourselves rather than through the law and regulation. Turning to someone you know and telling them that the Earth is round, that vaccines work, that JFK Jr. is as dead as Julius Caesar—and that you are not willing to argue about it for three hours—is not an act of hostility. It’s an act of civic virtue, of friendship, even of love. And we need to do more of it."

I hope he's right and I'm wrong. But history suggests I rarely am, at least in matters of Trump-inspired politifuckery.

I'm having a hard time staying optimistic. I hear people in Norway are pretty happy with their lot in life. And if we keep fucking the environment, it'll be a lot easier to get my hygge on with the new climate in my pad in Oslo. Doors always open for you lot.

Filling Your Day with Fulfilling Filler

 Good morning, gheorghies. This makes me smile.

The internet is magic sometimes. pic.twitter.com/qeVdNIbo92

— Debbie Mia (@TheDebbieMia) November 14, 2021

This Week in Gheorgheball

I'm in the midst of one of the busiest periods I can remember on the professional front. It's bad enough that it's impacted my ability to dick around on the internet, but having to deploy my brainpower on work-related things has crowded out more important dipshittery. Case in point, we haven't fully baptized the new Tribe hoops season. 

So until I get a few minutes to unpack all the boxes of strategy and organizational structure and sales plans that are cluttering my mind, here's a brief tour of the new season(s) on the hardwood.

We'll start with a Tribe-adjacent item. Now that I'm a VCU Dad, I've paid even more attention to the Rams than I might've previously. Many of you will recall my affinity for former Ram and now Denver Nugget rookie Nah'Shon 'Bones' Hyland. You should buy tickets on the Bonesmobile now, 'cause they're only gonna get more expensive. 

After an immaculate career-high 18 points (and three assists, three boards, and two steals) in the Nuggets' blowout win over Portland, Bones is averaging 9.1 ppg, 2.3 apg, 2.1 rpg, and 1.0 spg through the first 10 games of his NBA career. According to local sources, he's the clear leader of Denver's second unit, bringing energy and a knack for scoring off the bench. He's got work to do on the defensive end of the court, but there's no doubt he belongs. And Nugs fans love him. 

Closer to home, the Knightwolf hasn't had a breakout moment in Minnesota, but he has scored in consecutive games for the Timberwolves. Nate Knight got two against the Clips on Friday and another pair against the Lakers on Sunday. He's averaging 32 points per 48 minutes. Baby steps.

Been kinda avoiding actually getting to the point, because the point, well, it's not particularly enjoyable. The Wrens have lost their first two games, getting throttled at Wake Forest before coming home and losing by 12 to an American team picked to finish fifth in the Patriot League. 

The Tribe is really young, with graduate transfer Brandon Carroll starting alongside three sophomores and a freshman. Frosh point guard Tyler Rice has 15 assists through two games, which I assume is some sort of record. Sophomore big Ben Wight averaged 16 points in 21 minutes/game in the two losses, getting to the line 21 times and making 17 figgies. Soph Connor Kochera is coming off a CAA Rookie of the Year campaign and is the only guy other than Wight getting double digits.

There's a long way to go, starting tonight at Norfolk State, and Dane Fischer has proven to be a solid head man. But this team looks to have a whole lot of room (and need) for improvement. Not sure I'm counting on this to be the year we go dancing.

Roger Goodell is Still a Donkey

Almost seven years ago I wrote a post about Tom Brady's affection for tender balls (and Aaron Rodgers's preference for turgid balls) and the Deflategate fiasco.  I followed that up with another post comparing the NFL to Chotchkie's.  As an aside, I think I did a better job summarizing the situation than most other media outlets.  

You may recall that Roger Goodell suspended Tom Brady for four games by analogizing deflating balls to taking steroids.  The trial court judge scoffed at that comparison, writing that Goodell's punishment:

offers no scientific, empirical, or historical evidence of any comparability between Brady's alleged offense and steroid use.  Often, steroid use has to do with critical issues of health, injury, addiction, and peer pressure, among other factors.  See Steroid Policy at 1-2 (listing several factors related to the use of "Prohibited Substances," including "a number of physiological, psychological, orthopedic, reproductive, and other serious health problems, [such as] heart disease, liver cancer, musculoskeletal growth defects, strokes, and infertility"). None of these factors is (remotely) present here.

You know what is associated with serious health problems?  Covid-19.  So if a player violates the NFL's covid-19 policy, I would expect them to be suspended for at least one game because it's analogous to the league's steroid policy.

Predictably, Roger Goodell doesn't see it that way.  He fined Rodgers $14,650 for attending a Halloween party without being vaccinated.  The fact that Rodgers lied about his vaccination status didn't factor into the fine amount.  Rodgers makes $22,364,706 this year so the fine represents 0.0655% of his salary.

This makes perfect sense.  You let a little air out of a football, or "it is more probable than not" that you were "at least generally aware" that two baciagaloops let the air out of a football, and the league takes 25% of your pay.  If you help perpetuate a global plague that has killed over 750,000 Americans by refusing to take a free, safe, and effective vaccine or to wear a mask and avoid crowds, the league takes about seven hundredths of a percent of your salary.  

Player safety!  America's game!  Nice job Goodell.

via Gfycat

Spiders & Drugs Filler

This morning I was reading an article on Ars about research into spiders and the patterns they use to create their webs. And it jogged my memory of this youtube gem about spiders and drugs.

Cocaine is a hellva of drug.

Remembrance

Happy Belated 18th, Gheorghies!

Gheorghe: The Blog is 18 years old! 

Yes, we missed it yesterday, what with it being the Lord's day, and a day of rest, and Mark and Greg and I were nursing our hangovers from the mini-summit, and the rest of you are just lazy and forgetful.

But now, like the religious tradition of turning to your neighbor and offering, "Peace be with you," let us all gheorghies turn to each other and offer a moment devoid of taking ourselves too seriously, and glad tidings amongst our little band of misfits and meanderers.

May Gheorghe be with you.

Also born on November 7: Marie Curie, Leon Trotsky, Albert Camus, and Judy Tenuta.

18 years is a long time. Gheorghe: The Blog is old enough to vote, buy a gun, or even join the armed forces. Old enough even to drink a beer . . . if you happen to be in Sydney, Fiji, Montreal, Johannesburg, or 83% of the countries in the world. Just not in the United States for another three years. And never in Murfreesboro, Arkansas or in a number of dry counties across this great country of ours.

Anywho . . . happy belated birthday, gheorghies. Drink up.

What Football Club Should a Gheorghie Support: And Now for Something Completely Different

Like several Gheorghies, Teejay already has a rooting interest in English football. TR backs Manchester United. Marls reps the Magpies of Newcastle. Dooger and Rootsy are Spurs men. I support Fulham. And the Teej is a long-time (Michael) Bolton Wanderers fan.

The Wanderers are languishing in the bottom half of the League One table at the moment, 16th of 24 teams in the English pyramid's third division. But they've been a Premier League side on three different occasions, and the rules clearly state that Teej is required to stand by his men. Not that he would ever contemplate bailing on his team.

So we've got to go a different direction with the most beloved of the Gheorghies.

The Teej is a hipster, in the best sense of that term. He wears a variety of unique socks - sometimes with pants on. He and his lady have four cats. Against the odds, he's become a foodie. His t-shirt game is immaculate. He fits in equally well at fancy dinner parties, sporting events, and state fairs.

Teejay should support Forward Madison. 

Since their founding in 2018, the Flamingos have become one of the most iconic brands in the lower divisions of American professional soccer. As a marketing and comms expert, the Teej respects Madison's work. As an aficionado of colorful haberdashery, he'll love their kits.

When the club was founded, its ownership group set out to build a unique image. After receiving an initial design from kitmaker Hummel, they turned to a young graphic designer named Cassidy Sepnieski, who worked in the club's marketing department. The rest, as they say, is history. Madison's 2019 alternate kit was named the best in the world in a SiriusXMFC listener poll.

The 2020 alternate kit is even better for my money. Known as the Drip Kit, it came to life after Sepnieski saw a painting technique called hydrodipping. The kit is a riot of color and liquid motion, and I want Teej to have one.

For this season, Forward Madison innovated again, coming out with a fully reversible kit, pink on one side and black on the other. 

Alas, the club's kit game is stronger than its on-field version. The Flamingos finished ninth of 12 teams in USL League One (the third division of U.S. soccer) and just dismissed their head coach, Carl Craig. Could be worse for Teej - he could support Loudoun United, one of the worst professional outfits in American sports, with a 4-3-25 record and an embarrassing -47 goal differential. 

At least with Forward Madison he'll look good while supporting his side.

Up the Flamingos! Up the Teej!

EMERGENCY FILLER PALATE CLEANSER

Ben Rhodes is a 24 year-old Louisville native who drives the #99 Bombardier truck in the NASCAR Camping World Truck Series. He clinched his first series title yesterday at Phoenix Raceway. 

Ben Rhodes then gave this press conference.

For your viewing pleasure…

All the great moments from the @benrhodes press conference 😎🍺 pic.twitter.com/6hqDyMMdeA

— Alan Cavanna (@AlanCavanna) November 6, 2021

Ben Rhodes is an instant legend.

Ben Rhodes better not turn out to be an asshole. 

What Football Club Should a Gheorghie Support: Ahoy, Polloi

Despite his Appalachian upbringing, Danimal is the most cosmopolitan of the Gheorghies. He's a world traveler, banking air miles by the bucketload as he jets to China, South Africa, and...Texas. He rubs shoulders with Presidents, Kings (RIP, GWHB and Arnie), and Doggy Dogs. He's comfortable among the common and the fancy in equal measure. And he looks pretty sharp in pastels.

Danimal needs a football team that combines elegance with local roots, on-field class supported by generations of blue-collar backers. 

Not for nothing, we're feeling kinda bad about what we did to Zman, consigning him to rooting for a Norwich side that's winless in nine matches, so we're gonna balance the scales by giving at least one  Gheorghie a side that's likely to wind up on the other side of the table.

Danimal should root for Manchester City. For starters, their primary color is a perfect match for the zip-up he wore when he met Snoop, so he's already got his wardrobe foundation. The Citizens have a long and varied history. The club was founded in 1880 as St. Mark's West, becoming Manchester City FC in 1894. They were a modestly successful side for much of the 20th century, winning the league and all the major tournaments in the 1960s and 70s. City were a charter member of the Premier League, but fell on very hard times in the late 90s and early 2000s, falling all the way to the third division of English football while local rivals Manchester United ascended to become one of the world's most celebrated clubs.

City's fortunes (pun kinda intended after the fact) changed dramatically in 2008 when the Abu Dhabi United Group purchased the club. Along with Roman Abramovich's purchase of Chelsea, the deal marked the beginning of the era of ultra-wealthy often state-backed entities entering the world of football. The Emirati group infused a great deal of cash into the club, which paid dividends in 2012 when Sergio Aguero's last-match last-gasp stoppage time winner over Queens Park Rangers capped one of the most remarkable days in Premier League history and gave City their first title in the Premier League era. 

City megafan Noel Gallagher loved it:

Despite the team's current wealth, City's support remains strong among Manchester's working-class backbone, making the club a unique mix of nouveau riche and common folk. And as we've noted above, Danimal walks that divide with ease.

City's also awesome to watch. Along with Liverpool, they play the Premier League's most exciting brand of football. On their day, they can be breathtaking, pinging the ball all over the field, moving with fluidity and grace and scoring some of the best goals you'd ever want to see. In Belgian midfielder Kevin DeBruyne, City feature one of the world's best players, but their multi-cultural roster features Brazilians, Englishmen, Germans, Spaniards, Frenchmen, and American, a Dutchmen, an Algerian, and a couple of Portuguese for good measure. Led by Pep Guardiola, City are one of the world's best sides.

They've won three of the previous four Premier League titles, but the big prize of European football has eluded their grasp. City have never win the UEFA Champions League. So Danimal's got something to look forward to as he dons City's Sky Blue.

Danimal deserves the finer things in life. He should be a Cityzen.

Up the Sky Blues! Up the Danimal!

The Much Bigger Picture

Let's hope the trend of posting about folks passing ends quickly, but in this case, the lessons that go far beyond an individual's life are worth celebrating. 

I'm prepared to be annoyed by the results of the Virginia gubernatorial election. And the general drift of society at the moment is disappointing, at best. Maybe dismaying is a better way to say it. But Michael Johnson's dad tells us there's a better way.

"When you step away from your agenda, notice that there are moments you can make someone's life better...", that's Ernie Johnson's message, one that he and a whole of folks in his son Michael's orbit learned from a Romanian orphan with muscular dystrophy.

Michael died yesterday at 33. May we all have as much impact as he did.

And amidst the stuff that will continue to piss me off and challenge my understanding of my fellow man, I hope that I abide Ernie Johnson's message that there's value in everybody.

Love you, too, Gheorghies.

Requiem for a Big-Hearted Lightweight

My earliest real memories of baseball fandom involve the 1978 Boston Red Sox. Things didn't end very well for that terrific team, but one of the guys on that team imprinted on me, and stayed with me for five decades. 

Jerry Remy was the second baseman on those '78 Sox. The diminutive Remy wasn't much of an offensive threat - he hit seven homers in 10 major league seasons, and he finished his career with a .656 OPS. He could steal a base (3rd in the AL with the Angels in 1977), and he was among the best second basemen all time in fielding range. On the field, he was just a guy.

But to a little fella who happened to play second base, the guy who occupied that position for his favorite team was way more than just a guy. Remy begat Marty Barrett begat Jody Reed begat Jose Offerman ultimately begat Dustin Pedroia. Those are my guys.

Remy's second act was likely more impactful than his first. After retiring from the Sox in 1984, he took over as the color commentator on the Sox' flagship network in 1988. With his combination of playing experience, New England upbringing and accent, and ready laughter, Remy was beloved across Red Sox Nation.

He was first diagnosed with cancer in 2009, and dealt with fully seven different recurrences of that motherfucker. He threw out the first pitch of the AL Wild Card game on October 5, just 25 days before cancer claimed his life.

Back in the early part of the century, I had the MLB Extra Innings package, and I probably listened to Remy and Don Orsillo call 50-60 Sox games a year. Their chemistry was spectacular, and reached the sublimely ridiculous on many an occasion, as the Boston Herald catalogued in 2015.

For my money, two moments stand out. In the first, Sox roving reporter Dan Roche tells what we'd call today a Dad joke. And it sends Remy into apoplectic spasms of laughter to the point that he can't finish the inning. It's just the best. 

In this next clip, Lenny Clarke and Denis Leary joined Remy and Orsillo in the booth for an extended stretch. At about the 10 minute mark, Leary realized that Kevin Youkilis was Jewish, and an already funny segment was elevated. And Jerry Remy could not keep his shit together.

RIP, Jerry Remy, and thanks for the years of joy.