Headlocks and Hickory Burgers

  It's Wrestlemania season, a "silly little sport" that has brought joy and wonder to me and my friends for as long as I can remember. I mean no joke when I say I can not remember a time when I didn't look forward to "wrasslin" with the kind of joy only Peter Pan should ever feel.....but to feel like Peter Pan you're gonna need a Wendy Lady to keep things on the level.

  There are two people I owe my lifelong love of “wrasslin’ to, my grandfather Virgil and Barbara Hauser. Barb was the mother of my friends Zach and Caitlyn, we called him The Mosh King, she was Miss Caity, their basement was known as “The Leisure Palace.” Barb was the spunky single mom from every Hollywood moment, she was also a wheelin’ and dealin’ property appraiser that didn’t take shit from no one….especially her kids and their crew.

“If you’re gonna eat my groceries the least you can do is get off your ass and help carry them in.”

“You keep knockin’ around down there and I’ll put you in a figure four and tap you out bitch!”

  She was the original awesome Twitter account, and she was a den mother of sorts to any kid who came over to hang out for an hour or three and watch wrasslin’, hang out in the kitchen, etc, etc, etc. She bought me and Zach Ozfest tickets the year Tool was playing, there was always a ride if you needed it, and when teenagers grew up she got me and Valerie a very nice set of china plates for our wedding.

  Monday nights at Barbs was “knockin’ around” in the leisure palace while we devoured three hours of Monday Nitro and two hours of Monday Night Raw, it was Wednesday nights of stale babies puppy chow and Command and Conquer with two PS One’s linked together. Barb let the scrubs hang out in her nice place simply because she’s a nice person.

  It’s Wrestlemania week, it’s that time of year when the old friends come together…some of them go clear back to the days of The Leisure Palace. Caity’s a mom of her own now, but her mom has moved on, this week was her birthday. There’s no Barb to tell me to calm down, or threaten me with an ankle lock, growing up means learning to do those things for yourself I guess….I still haven’t figured out how to apply an ankle lock on oneself.

  It’s also a time to say thanks if you’re so inclined, different people celebrate the joy of friends and family on different days, this is one of mine. And with an echo from the past I will make a huge bowl of “Devatator’z!” and I’ll spend 18 hours slow cooking a giant hunk of brisket, and we’ll come together to watch grown men “wrassle” and somewhere upstairs Barb is trying to watch Lifetime television but she’s also listening for just the right time to give us some shit.

  I must admit I never thought much of the actual hickory burger…..merely the mountain of love that it was served upon…..maybe it’s because I got the recipe wrong? I included a Joesy Shore take on the process down below, as for this entry in The Midwest Guide ™, it’s time to wrap things up. History is written by the winners, Barbara Hauser was a winner, this is her chapter from The Book of Greatest Women Who Ever Lived.

Racial Harmony

  Something nailed me while I was enjoying a business luncheon (because guys that run the cheap theater have business luncheons too). Now before we get too deep into this let me issue the standard racial disclaimer:

  I (Joshua Hall) am white, I have learned over the years that because of that I'm to issue no thoughts on racial relations, perceptions, etc. However, I'm about to.

  So I'm at the Chinese buffet getting better service than I do from any scraggly haired meth-head cracker when a bunch of twenty-something factory working bro's walk in. They lorded their way through the lobby and regally took their seats as they gave forth their soda edicts. They even made sure to talk a little slower and louder when they were speaking directly to the waiter.

  As if at this point of the game that server doesn't know that when Fatty McTownie says Pepsi you get him a Pepsi. As the server ran off to get their drinks they pointed and laughed at him behind his back before bellowing "AND CRAB RANGOON YOU'RE LOOKING LOW!" They then proceeded to congratulate each other on how many crab rangoon they were going to eat.

  Did the server snap? No, but you could hear him tell the cook to make more Rangoon. Did they appreciate this? No, they mocked his accent and laughed about how much Rangoon they were going to eat. I get the feeling these guys might have been racist.

  Here's the thing, you don't get to be racist and then eat their food. That makes no fucking sense, if you're gonna hate on an entire people than you must hate on their cuisine too, otherwise you're just being lazy. No half and half's, if you're gonna be THAT asshat you gotta commit. You can't belittle everything about a person and their heritage but then cry to suckle upon General Tso's chicken teat with a side of deep fried dough, cream cheese and half a chunk of crab.

  Don't be a half assed hater, rock that shit so we can see your dumb ass coming. You gotta hate 24/7, no excuses, it's nothing but BBQ, freedom fries and the comfortable bubble provided by your own ignorance. Don't be an absentee parent.

  Of course, I can't be sure this was a drive-by splash of haterade, because racism is simply fear of the unknown expressed improperly. This place was nicely decorated so maybe they were just behaving that way to feel safe and in charge. But this is where I'm a racist at times because I see a hick in a Carhart jacket and I assume he's being a racist redneck when he makes tired and cliche riddled jokes behind a "foreigners" back. It's entirely possible this guys just so bland and ordinary that he has to go "irk dirka dur" to make conversation because in his mind that's "what the people do."

  There's so many people like that around here, way more than the racists, but you have to look deep enough to realize they're not being racist, just boring and stereotypical because that's what they've been taught to produce.

  Seriously, you can't rip on the Chinese while eating Chinese, that's silly. And when they're working harder than you ever would and still somehow have enough patience to let you racially masturbate all over the place just so you can feel better about yourself, leave a fucking tip. I don't care that "it's the buffet" as you said in snide manner to your equally stupid and/or racist pack of beta males.

  You sir, are one of the worst forms of Ugly American.

Take Me Out to the Hall Game.

“Baseball is like church. Many attend, few understand.” – Leo Durocher

Before I roll out my Hall of Fame pick’s let’s all hug the elephants in the room.

1: we'll all be gettin' HGH treatments in 15 years.

2: I don't think we need anyone "protecting the integrity of the game" for us, I'm well aware of what baseball is and isn't and Mark McGwire or Barry Bonds are both infinitely better human beings than Ty Cobb and they both had to bat against the best arms, regardless of color or nationality.

Ty on the other hand sharpened his cleats so that people were afraid to tag him on the steal or the plate (inflating his numbers dramatically), and never once had to face down Satchel Paige with stats on the line.

But again, please protect the "sanctity" of 1990's baseball and continue to play dumb regarding the warped effects of segregation, amphetamines, corked bats, spitballs, sharpened cleats, stolen signs, cocaine, scoreboard spies tipping pitches, etc, etc, etc.

Baseball's so pure, so virginal, so pristine, much too good for the dirty realities of life....and we all love a prissy prom queen that don't put out....right

Please...tell me again how Steroids threaten the integrity of baseballs numbers when Josh Gibson never got an MLB at-bat and Babe Ruth woulda been lucky to get a double off Bullet Rogan. Explain to me in great detail how home runs were hit “incorrectly” but Greenies so people could be awake enough to play at a high level is somehow different.

I’ve been a follower of this sport my entire life, Baseball is the story of America, history will prove this true, and in many ways it already has. We can’t change history, and we shouldn’t censor the narrative. It is also dumb that I would only get to vote for 10 if I did have a vote.

I’m on the path of understanding more than many who actually get to check a ballot, but here’s who I think should be in anyway:

Veterans Committee: They don’t get to do squat until they put Buck O’Neil in. No further attention will be given to them until they show the courage to overstep their boundaries and demand the HOF correct this egregious insult to both a great player and the history of the game.

Barry Bonds: Did you not see the man play? That’s the worst part of the steroids argument, whether he did or didn’t I never saw it and neither did you, but I saw him play, he’s one of the greatest.

Roger Clemens: Rockets Red Glare. Had that awesome commercial with him punching his arm into a giant tub of rice repeatedly. All his children have names that start with the letter ‘K’. Probably has more to do with baseball still being in Toronto than people realize. Knows in his heart of hearts that Maddux will always be better so even if you hate on him why would you not want him to have to sit at the same table as Maddux during the players only banquet next year when every old school HOF’er including his godfather rolls out the red carpet for Mad Dog Maddux while Clemens seethes.

Mike Piazza: Greatest offensive catcher ever. Even if you discount the era the numbers hold up, and he wasn’t as bad with the glove as the gripers remember, he just got old playing while he was playing for the Mets so he got a bad rap on his way out. Handled a pitching staff well. Was maybe the only batter to officially get in Roger Clemens head.

Craig Biggio: Doubles, Doubles, Doubles, Doubles, Steals, Doubles, Doubles, Defensive Versatility, Doubles, Steals, Grit, Grit, Grit, Grit, Baseball, Baseball. He’s a George Brett division Second Baseman and a lifetime Astro to boot. These are the stories that go in the hall.

Jeff Bagwell: A better first baseman than McGwire, a better first baseman than many. Maybe the worst trade the Red Sox ever made wasn’t Babe Ruth but when they dumped a minor leaguer named Jeff Bagwell. Him and Biggio were the Killer B’s in Houston and maybe the only good thing to come out of denying Bagwell last year would be him and Biggio going in together this year.

Rafael Palmerio: As far as I know there’s no performance enhancer that can give you a moustache that sexxxxxxxy. 3,000 hits and 500 home runs are just icing on the cake.

Tim Raines: All he did was get on base…..and snort massive lines of coke. For every person who wishes Daryl Strawberry had kept it together because he woulda been a HOF’er realize this is what he woulda been with more homers but fewer steals. And Straw never coulda got on base at the clip Raines did year in and year out for his entire career.

Mark McGwire: This is where we start getting philosophical. The quote I put at the top of this whole thing, you be a baseball person long enough and you understand it, and you understand it more and more. Cal Ripken and Mark McGwire were the same thing to Baseball and they deserve the same place of honor. Ponder the field of dreams long enough and it all becomes clear.

Dale Murphy & Fred McGriff: We’re taking that quote from above one step further now. I agree wholeheartedly with the push for Dale Murphy on two levels.

1: No less than Bill James has said he’d be ok with Murph in the hall so his stats hold up.

2: His family is right, why the hell are voters only using the character clause AGAINST former players? Click the link below right now.

http://gardenturtle.blogspot.com/2012/12/if-youll-let-me-wax-poetic-for-sec.html

Put him in the hall, do it for his stats, do it for his career, but most importantly do it for future fans of the game. These are the stories a good parent teaches their child.

And in that spirit I also use the precious tenth vote for the other Character Clause guy, The Crime Dog Fred McGriff. Who cares if he held on a few seasons too long chasing stats, those stats count, he was a solid citizen, did a ton of charity work, was in those Tom Eumansky defensive drill videos if I remember correctly and his late season trade to the Atlanta Braves was the catalyst for the last great divisional race between them and the Giants. 

The very next season history and everything else changed again with wild cards, so it's not like the game itself hasn't changed things that change things.

Were there others worthy of a vote? Yup, but the real problem with steroids is they’re gunking the ballot up with guys that are worthy but will drop off because you can only check ten names. The voters are being cowards, they’re letting this go so someone else will have to deal with it. Vote for the greatest of each era whether you like it or not. That's the burden of greatness.