Happy Trails, Roy Hobbs

AP: Actor and activist, Robert Redford dies at the age of 89

Throughout the long history of the brog, I’ve been saddened by the passing of many notable figures and shared my words and thoughts for those whom have meant the most to my general existence.  I’ve stated numerous names, of individuals who really had massive imprints on my general state of life, those whom help mold, shape or have a permanent residence at the forefront of my brain.

Guys like Sonny Chiba, Dikembe Mutombo, Kevin Conroy emerge quickly, as people for whatever reason or contributions to the shit I’ve seen in my life, always maintained permanent resident status in my head, and even to this day, guys whom I’ll make references to or think about when it comes to the countless analogies and metaphors and comparisons that I make when thinking about things around the world.

Well, Robert Redford is up there on that echelon of individuals in the world that left an indelible mark in my life, and I’m feeling melancholy about hearing about his passing.  I can’t really say that I’m so much sad about it considering he was 89 years old and had clearly lived a full and prosperous life, but for those that will miss him the most, my heart goes out to.

However, I should be more specific, that my general fandom and appreciation for Robert Redford stems from a role he played in a film, based on a book that also left an indelible impression in my life, which is The Natural by Bernard Malamud.  After falling in love with the book, the movie was enjoyable, which really opened my eyes to who Robert Redford was, as he was portraying the intrepid Roy Hobbs, the former pitcher turned old rookie wunderkind, crushing home runs all over the place with this homemade baseball bat.

And although the film didn’t portray it like the book did, Roy Hobbs was a human vacuum cleaner of a legendary eater, prompting one of my oldest friend groups and I to use his name as inspiration for whenever we wanted to destroy buffets all across Northern Virginia and eat like Roy Hobbs was trying to fill the void left in his heart from the early baseball career he never had.

Furthermore, Roy Hobbs became something of a pseudonym for me through a variety of online endeavors, like the pen name I wrote through on Talking Chop and a variety of other Vox websites, and was usually my go-to when it came to utilizing an online handle on gaming platforms like Xbox Live or League of Legends.

Regardless, through Roy Hobbs I learned Robert Redford, and although Roy Hobbs was but just a single role played in a legendary career, whenever the thought of Roy Hobbs emerges in my brain, it’s Robert Redford that I see, and for that alone, made me a fan of Robert Redford.

It’s funny, because as learned of his existence was I made aware of just how much work he’s done in Hollywood, for Hollywood, and the film industry in general, but it wasn’t until really reading several obituaries and tributes to the man did I realize just how much more he did, as far as his support for independents beyond just Sundance, as well as his activism, trying to make the world a lesser pile of shit than it is on the regular.

Robert Redford was truly an extraordinary human being, and it’s like I discovered him in a reverse order sort of fashion; gravitating towards him on account of a singular role, but then learning more about him after the fact, as opposed to the other way around.

It’s a sad day in Hollywood, film and even literature to hear about the passing of Robert Redford, but at least as far as I’m concerned, he’ll always be relevant and worth mentioning, if for anything at all, being the guy who was Roy Hobbs.

Remembering Tommy Hanson

In short: former Major League Baseball pitcher Thomas J. “Tommy” Hanson passes away at the age of 29, due to “catastrophic organ failure.”

Talk about something that came out of nowhere; it’s not often that I expect to hear about spontaneous deaths from people much younger than I am. And in spite of my faltering indifference to the game over the last few years, I’d like to write some words about Tommy Hanson, because if anything at all, he represents a player that was pretty prevalent during my peak of baseball fandom, and I’m genuinely sad to hear about his unfortunate and way too early departure.

Forget about the win-loss record, the ERA, and the list of teams that he had played for in his career, that one might expect to see within the final paragraphs of a professional athlete’s online eulogy and/or obituary. This isn’t to say that they weren’t pretty, quite the contrary, his overall numbers were positive and respectable, despite the obvious observation that he was declining quickly, mostly on account of shoulder troubles that plagued the tail end of his baseball career.

To me, Tommy Hanson represents the link, the gateway, into my eventual love and appreciation for minor league baseball.

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It’s nice to feel wanted

Despite the fact that I declare myself a terrible baseball fan, I still do keep somewhat of an ear to the ground when it comes to happenings in the game, and happenings with the Atlanta Braves.  And despite the fact that I’ve long separated myself from the site I used to write for, Talking Chop, I still visit every now and then, because in spite of the fact that their daily writing assignments have become somewhat robotic, as the guys running the site now are excellent analyzers of raw, cold facts, but don’t really have unique voices.  However, they have the ability to generate some opinions from their analysis of raw, cold facts that are still preferable over the talking heads of any other mainstream outlet.

Anyway, on a recent visit, I noticed that there was a topic of how the site was, yet again, changing hands in operational management.  Apparently, the day-to-day management of a website was difficult to juggle amidst daily analysis of numbers for the previous management, whom all apparently took steps back to go into purely writing roles, leaving the management side to a new girl, whom I actually find refreshing that she’s not a proverbial bean-counting stat-geek.

She inquired with the community on suggestions to what she could take into consideration for making the site better for the future.  Naturally, being the internet, there were sloughs of sarcastic rebuttals and everyone trying their hardest to be an e-comedian that I had to trudge through, but every now and then there were constructive suggestions and requests that people made that could and probably should be taken into consideration.

But then there was one remark in particular that caught my eye.

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I love goodbyes

Now despite the fact that I like a good weekend every now and then where I literally do nothing but stay at home and play League, watch college football, sleep in until the dog starts barking his need to go pee and living off of whatever’s left over in the refrigerator and pantry, there’s no doubt that it can sometimes be pretty lonely doing such. Not necessarily in the “oh noes, Danny is making another ‘I wish I had a girlfriend’ post” kind of way, but really just being around other people in a fun social engagement in general kind of way, because when the day is over, I’d rather be in good company, chilling out in a relaxed setting.

Such does not occur as often as I’d admittedly like it to occur, but most of that falls on me. I live out in the sticks that are often as surprised as I am to be considered part of the Metro Atlanta area, and it’s a pain to get to anywhere without having to think about niggling details like traffic, time, and fuel consumption in the back of your head sometimes. Also, it’s not that I’m a raging alcoholic by any means necessary, but I do like to drink in social settings, and I’m always paranoid that there’ll be another sobriety checkpoint near my house again, but it’ll fall on a date where I’ve had one or two beers and no designated driver; my dad got a DUI a few years ago, and he’s living proof that no number of decades of safe, immaculate driving record is impervious to the damages a DUI can do, which scares the shit out of me sometimes.

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Marriott rooms and the importance of failure

A long time ago, I wrote this manifesto on Talking Chop about the importance of defeat.  Braves fans were getting a little too complacent with the idea that the Braves were a competent potential contender that season, and the populous got a little too out of control insufferable when the Braves lost a series against a non-contender, and me being one of the Nazi mods of the site at the time, took it upon myself to instead admonish and ban people, to educate them about the importance of losing.

The main point was basically that victory has no importance if there was never any risk of losing.  Victory cannot be sweet if defeat is not bitter.  Without the fear of failure, there is no gratification when there is success.

Not only does this apply to just sports, it applies to just about any endeavor, where there is either success or failure.  The greater chance for failure versus the difficulty of success makes victory that much sweeter if it’s achieved.

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Yeah, no regrets

My last post over at Talking Chop went up yesterday, and I thought that I would feel a little bit emotional over it, since it was my primary sports writing-related outlet I had over the last four years, but I really didn’t.  To be perfectly honest, I didn’t really remember to check it until late last night, so in some respects that kind of was indicative of how much I had already kind of checked out when it came to the whole site entirely.  I probably felt more emotions while in the process of writing my farewell statement, which I started on Tuesday and re-read and edited throughout the course of the week.

I’ve got no regrets in doing it, now that it’s done.  It’ll really sink in on Wednesday or Thursday afternoon, when I’ll be sitting at my desk thinking “oh shit, I have to write my column,” but then realize that I actually don’t, and then I’ll feel a sense of relief wash over my like an awesome wave.

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A melancholy feeling of change

Typically, I tend to leave most sports talk out of my brog, because frankly I know that the majority of the 12 people that actually read my swill aren’t necessarily sports fans, or even care to read about sports related things.  Typically, I also never really felt the necessity to use my brog as an outlet for sports talk, because I’ve always had an outlet for talking about sports; and by sports, I mean baseball, because other athletic contests are second fiddle anyway.

Over the span of the last four years, I wrote for a Braves blog, Talking Chop.  I went under a pseudonym over these years because I’m skeptical like that and wished to keep my identity somewhat separated from the rest of my life, but it’s not like anyone paying attention didn’t discover my real name at some point.  Writing for TC was an enjoyable experience as I was able to interact with baseball fans all over the place, and share thoughts and ideas, as well as expand my horizons as it came to baseball statistics, analysis and the minor leagues.

I’m leaving Talking Chop.  This coming Saturday is my last scheduled post, and I’m leaving on my own fruition.  I know most of my brog readers probably couldn’t give two shits about this, but to me, having done this consistently over the span of the last four years, leaves me with this melancholy feeling of change; separation from a long and consistent routine.  I’m glad to be freed up from the occasional feelings of obligation to write about baseball, but at the same time, I now really have no true outlet to ramble on about baseball if I ever felt like it.

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