Refuse to Lose

Today I did something I haven't done in a long time. I clicked on the espn website, clicked on the mariners-angels live cast, put the satellite radio onto the game, put my Griffey jersey on and listened as the mariners won the final game of the season. As I've said in the past it's been hard to be a mariners fan. A decade of pain and agony has harden me into a fatalist when it comes to mariner baseball. Going to games in New York and watching us get our ass's whipped by the Yankees does that to a person. 

But this season was different. For the first time in a long time I let myself care. I am a quiet fan meaning I don't let my emotions get involved in sports because I've been hurt so damn much. I've been let down a lot. It's better not to get involved then to let yourself get hurt. 

You try to be a realist. You hope for something and expect the worst. After as crying as much as I did as a kid I play my cards close. I don't watch many games because I am used to pain. I'll check the standings but thats as far as I'll let myself go. 

Yeah I know heartbreak all to well. 

This season was different. Maybe it was the signing of Robbie Cano. Or the Seattle times series that showed how idiotic the ownership was. Maybe it was the death of the owner and the feeling that maybe the Japanese owners who had never been to a game would let us run the show. Maybe it was Griffeys speech last season where he compared the 95 mariners to this squad.  But I think the biggest impact was Pete Carroll and the Hawks winning the Super Bowl.

When the hawks won it was surreal. As I said in another post it was like the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie takes out all of his anger on the bully. All of those years of losing,of taking shit from everybody, of pain,of not getting the respect we deserve ended in one full cathartic moment. The Super Bowl was an exorcism on Seattle sports fans. It didn't matter where you were you felt it. If you saw another Seattle fan you stopped and talked to them. It was well indescribable the camaraderie you felt. 

I think the Mariners this season felt that. I went to the second game of the season at Angels stadium. We won and this team that played was different then the one I had watched back in New York. In New York they were awful. I understood that a lot of them were young and just figuring it all out but  they sucked. But the team I saw this year played like a bunch of pros. Of course being surrounded by a bunch of angels fans I wasn't able to properly show my enthusiasm. So as I've done every year I followed the team but at an emotional distance. 

I as always expected the midsession collapse that has become our modus operanda the last couple seasons. But it didn't happen. They stayed in the chase for the final wild card spot( baseball purist I know you hate it but wait till your team wins it then we'll talk). They kept on fighting till the very last game of the season. For the first time in years it wasn't just super Seattle sports fan Zach Nordwell following the M's it was everybody. I thought we were done a week ago, but somehow we stayed in the chase. Refuse to Lose was back. 

So Sunday I turned on the game. I knew that even if we won we could still lose. There is just certain things you cannot control. All I wanted was the one game playoff. I knew there wasn't going to be a World Series year. Sure I dream and hope but as I said I understand baseball ain't Angels in the Outfield, it's Bull Durham meets a Greek tragedy. But still as I listened to the game, and  for the first time whether we won or lost I felt proud to be a Mariners fan. 

Seattle fans are different in that even if you lose as long as you gave it everything you had we'll love you. I know that seems stupid and cliched and not cool in a society where winning is everything and anything else in the words of my boston compatriot is for "Losers". But the fact that in a season devoted to Derek Jeter a team with two stars and a bunch of kids was able to fight till the very end yeah it made me proud. We didn't get to the playoffs but to quote Casablanca " this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship".

I think of Rodeo baby I think of Rodeo

For three years I worked in a country western bar in NYC. Yeah I know it sounds ridiculous and silly but it was true. For three years and well until I left New York to move to LA whether I wanted to admit it or not it was home. Those that worked there where my family and friends. I knew it was always there if I needed a place to hang. And now, like a lot of things that where a part of my New York experience, it ‘s gone. 

I had gone into the place a couple times usually for theater meetings and such. It helped that a girl from our theater company worked there and could get us a deal on drinks. It was loud and was basically in many ways a frat bar where Jewish cowboys from Long Island and New Jersey could live out there Johnny Cash fantasies’. I didn’t hangout there too much because well I was broke 90% of the time in my early 20’s and didn’t want to spend money on booze. But after the fine dining place I worked at closed due to the owner’s stupidity I needed a job and was desperate. So one night while hanging with the theater friends,I asked my friend if this country western place had any openings. She laughed and said “You don’t want to work here trust me”. I said” I don’t care I need money I’ll even be a busboy”. She said we’ll see. A month later she called and said “I can get you on as a host, you want a job?” I said yes.

I realized in the first hour that this place was different. I was helping taking tables for the lunch rush. A customer was complaining asking why there food was taking long. It had only been maybe six minutes since they had placed there order. I ran back to the kitchen and said to the GM, a sassy Brazilian woman, that hey the customer was asking where there food was. She told me to tell them to go fuck themselves the foods coming. I thought wow that’s cool. Because in fine dining the customer no matter how idiotic, how mean, how wrong they are is always right and that well it was always the waiter’s fault. But to hear the GM back me up was liberating.

See that’s the thing people who have never worked in a bar or restraint have trouble understanding.  Things go wrong and in a rush at a small place the staff is trying to get your food out to you as fast as possible. But they also have to deal with eight other orders coming in at once. Some person decides they’re going to order off the menu or make the order complicated so it slows down the whole dang process. At the same time more customers are coming in and they want service right away. The waiter has to remember that that person ordered a coke no ice, the friend wanted an Arnold palmer, the other friend wanted a beer with three limes. Make sure there is extra guace on the burrito they might ask. Of course when you mention that we have to charge extra they get mad. That table behind you wants the check now and wants to split it three ways and so on. 

So the server deals with shit from customers.  At the same time the bartender has to deal with not only there own customers who all want food and beer but also the service bar because hey they also have a beer and burger special.  If things go wrong the bartender or server takes the blame. Management usually blames you.

But this time not only did the GM have my back but so did everyone else. We didn’t pool tips but everyone watched over each other. From the GM down to the bouncer we had each other’s back.  I think that was the thing that made it a fun place to work. We were a family.

We supported each other’s plays, art shows, concerts or whatever. When one got married everyone would try to go. When one had a kid we all tried to see the baby at the hospital. When someone got mugged we collected money to help the person out. When someone lost a loved one we were there.

 During my first thanksgiving working there the GM asked what I was doing. I was going through a breakup at the time and was probably just going to work. She  told me to come over afterwards to her place. She was cooking for everyone who was staying in town. I did and the food was amazing and I felt at home. Of course it wasn’t always perfect and we all did fight but it was like how a family fought. You still loved the person no matter how crazy the other person was acting.

Of course outside the family aspect of things there was always hilarity. Whether it was the fight with the drunk Irish guys who tried to gouge out my eye, pretty boy Ryan Gosling hanging in the office, famous Yankees smoking weed outside, the customers who tried to steal all of the cowboy memorabilia, me streaking or dancing shirtless on stage with the bands, the famed Phil Korshak spitting fire. It was a circus so much so that when my mom visited even though I wasn’t working there anymore I had to bring her there so she could meet everyone. 

Yes the place had a reputation of being kind of a fratboy place and was kind of like the cantina scene from Star Wars, but the regulars, the real ones also became our friends. Whether it was Czop telling me what I was doing wrong with women, Rodney telling me to always take a chance in life, Pablo telling us to fuck every person we meet, Tom and Pete being well Tom and Pete. Johnny the doorman and Pond Scum telling me life lessons and so many others who became not just customers but friends.

I left after three years from a combination of burn out and also because the owner and I did not get along. The GM from Brazil had left and she had protected the entire staff from his mood swings.  I am not going to go into details or do name calling, but I saw the writing on the wall and knew it was time to move on.  I would still come by and me being me,order maybe two beers and hangout for a couple of hours. During Hurricane Sandy, I hung out there as the storm raged in the street.

The night before I was to leave New York for LA I swung by one last time.   A lot had changed. Most of the staff I had known at the beginning of my time there where gone. But it didn’t matter because when you worked at this place you where in a special club forever. I said goodbye to everyone including my best friend who I had gotten a job there. I looked up at the stuffed buffalo above the bar and walked off into the night.

Now it’s all gone. It’s funny I haven’t been back to New York in almost two years. But according to everyone it’s changed immensely. Almost everyplace I worked at is gone. McCormicks the hangout for the crew from work and where I worked for almost a year is gone replaced by something else. The Madhatter another favorite place is now a gastro pub. Even the theaters I performed at are now something else. But I always thought that this place with it’s country western style would be there. I always figured I would come back and walk in on a Monday night and surprise my friends and see all of the regulars drinking and arguing about something ridiculous. 

My mom talked about how she lived in Seattle in the 70’s and what an amazing town it was to live in. She talked about the bars, bookstores, little places that gave it it’s character. She also talked about how two years after she left it was all gone. I never fully grasped it until I left New York.  It’s funny it’s like a whole part of my life that had a significant impact has just faded away. But that’s part of life. Things are supposed to change and grow and evolve. If they don’t , well they become stagnate.  But I hold onto the memories.

Like the narrator in the Road Warrior said at the beginning it’s gone but the memories remain. Memories of Super Bowl parties. Scumfest, Of blood wrestling, Margarita Fridays, climbing up to the roof, illegal Shinerbach, people falling in love, bands that where good bad and ugly. Of friendships that will last forever even though we’re all scattered in different places. Of a Kentucky Grizzly and the Pope of Murray Hill, the Swede and Butch, Handsome Phil and Sara, Eric and Bia, Walt and Leslie, Aaron and Jenny Star, Ash and Rick, Lillie and Marconi, Jill and JD, Michelle and Andrea , Chris and Anka, Scott and Tristan the Jersey Redneck, Sid and JT and Stephon, Trey and Nadine, Tracy and Emily, the guy’s in the kitchen, Amy Wood and Thea, JoJo and Charlotte, Meg and Andy and Sam, Jack Grace and Daria,  Johnny the doorman and Ritchie, Scum and Czop and so many others. I sit here now in LA,a place with it’s own certain bizarness but I remember a place, a bar with peanut shells on the floor and a stuffed buffalo . There where moments I wanted to burn it down but now I find myself sad that’s it’s gone.  Things evolve and change,but the memories and friendships remain forever.

The Epic Story of Bob the rooster as told to my nephew

When your mom and I where kids we had chickens and we had a rooster who's name was Bob. Now originally we thought Bob was a girl. Our mom didn't want a rooster because roosters are mean and they're known for attacking people. So we thought hey no roosters. 

Well we bought three baby chicks and at first they seemed normal. We called them Ethel, Vivian and Bernice.  They where cute and fun. Of course they pooped a lot which was fine. Our mom thought great fertilizer for the garden. Well as the three chicks grew up we noticed that Bernice started looking different.  Like she was bigger and scarier. Our moms mom, our grandma thought it was just a big hen. But when our Italian Grandpa Tony saw Bernice, he was like " That's a big Rooster". 

Well at first Bob as we called him was fine. But he started getting mean but not too bad. 

Finally summer came and our parents decided to enter Bob in the county Fair. Bob who had been "the man" at home was now low on the totem  pole. The other roosters would tell at Bob and probably scared the living daylights out of him. So by the time Bob came back from the County Fair he had changed. 

Bob came back and was mean and angry. 

Bob the rooster Part 2

So at first we didn't notice anything. Bob though walked different. He strutted around the yard like he was the cock of the walk. He acted like he owned the yard. But he was very different. 

Bob the rooster had changed into a full scale jerk. He started attacking the hens Ethel and Vivian. He would crow at all hours. Then he started attacking us. He'd  chase our little brother and sister out of the yard. He would flap his wings, crow and charge at us. The only person he didn't attack was our mom. 

But him and I had our own issues. Yes he was the rooster of the yard. But that yard was mine. It's where I would spend most of my days. Our yard was rather large and for me during the summer I would spend so much time out there. No rooster was going to act like a butt head in my yard. 

Bob and I found ourselves in small skirmishes. Usually he would attack a hen and I would stop him and he would try to attack me. I had a bamboo rod which was my trusted weapon and I would swat him away.   He would crow and I'd tell him to shut up and he would come charging. We eye'd each other. We knew an epic battle was coming. Only one could be king of the yard. 

For weeks this battle went on. It's as if fate was waiting for the right moment. It would come on a sunny afternoon in mid summer. 

I was out in the yard playing. Bob was being a jerk. Him and I looked at each other. Was today the day. Suddenly Bob came charging at me. I grabbed my trusted bamboo rod and swung it at Bob before he could attack. I hit Bob across the neck with a violent swap. It stunned him but he kept on coming. I hit him a dozen times in 30 seconds. These swats would of hurt a human being. I hit him over and over again until I was so tired I couldn't hit anymore. Finally out of exhaustion I stopped. 

Bob, relaxed as if noting had happened looked over at me and attacked. I ran with all of my might. I dropped my bamboo rod and ran towards the woods behind our house.  Bob kept on coming. I ran down a trail that I knew would lead to an open field. I was fast but Bob was faster. He flew up in the air and went for my head. He pecked and scratched at my head. I fell to the ground. I was in a life or death struggle. He had me on the ground and was going to destroy me right then and there. I was dead. I finally pushed Bob off and got up and ran with my last ounce of breath towards the open field. 

I ran out into the field and finally stopped in the middle if the field and collapsed. I turned back. Bob was standing there to the enterance of the field. We looked at each other. Bob crowed the loudest he had ever crowed in his life. I yelled back at Bob  , " I hate you Bob! I hate you!"

Bartender thoughts

You wanted to leave but never did. Everyone said you'd get out but instead you got a job at the mill and worked and took care of your mom. But things got insane. A violent strike broke out and you a guy who was apolitical got involved. You saw the injustice that was happening and took a stand against the Gordon Gekko type owner. Violence escalated. They killed your friends and even tried to kill you. But you, a guy who barely graduated high school took down the owner in a FBI sting operation. Because of your testimony you helped chang things for for the better. But you had to go into hiding. Now your lying low in the city of angels waiting for them to come for you. I'll be bartending from 9-2am and I'll tell you something: you did the right thing. 

Rain storm

It's been raining for almost three intense days. I drank my coffee and watched a river manifest in the middle of our street from my front porch. It looked so peaceful as it washed away the dirt, grime and dried blood from the street. All of the sins of LA that had been built up during this draught was being washed away by Mother Nature. It would only be 4 inches but it was badly needed. But alas not all was right the cinder block wall that separated our property from our neighbors collapsed. The only ones hurt were those bastard moles who had been tunneling underneath and caused the collapse. The wind picked up and I watched as the rain went sideways. Drivers were freaking out as if there was a zombie war. I was smart enough to stay inside. Again it wasn't that much but in LA a city built on a fantasy in a desert it was badly needed

Throwback Thursday

Throwback Thursday! I should of fired my barber, but that was before I found the great Ricardo. Yeah I still don't get what I painted

Bar posts

You where a blue collar guy who wanted to be Jack London meets Thomas Wolfe. But things ended up being a lot different. You went out to find America on the road with a con man, a drug loving old guy and a nerdy poet from Jersey. You wandered for years between New York, San Francisco and Mexico City just trying to find meaning.  After years of struggle you found success. But now it's become too much to handle . Your being told your the voice of a generation and it scares you. You've pushed your friends and loved ones away. You've started to drink like your Heroes but now it's out of control. Are you wasting your talent? I'll be bartending from 9-2am Iam not going to serve you but I'll listen.