“There is no purity for me, no absolute success or failure, and no room for the masterpiece. When I see artists who have made works that are recognized as masterpieces, I see them having to chase those works for the rest of their careers, and I just don’t want that axe to grind. I would rather be seen as an acceptable failure, as the guy that failed consistently and kept going, kept trying, kept exploring. I want to pivot and move and work on multiple things at once, and with that comes a lot of freedom. I think the whole mystery of making art is about choices that are bold.”
Our life can imitate his art. Most of us will never have a “masterpiece.” Which, as Rashid points out, is probably for the best, as having one traps us in a box constructed by others’ expectations.
But we sure as heck can be the person “that failed consistently and kept going, kept trying, kept exploring.”
It’s not the failure that defines us — unless we let it. It’s the keeping going…
And if you share your bounty with others (both the food-food and the brain-food), you’ll enrich their lives too.
I came across the quote above on Bluesky. I was never very active on Twitter, but now that it’s solely a propaganda tool for a plutocrat, it was time to move onward and upward.
Our youngest child, Andrew, is a sophomore at Indiana University. The Hoosiers, smack-dab in the middle of the hoops hotbed of the Midwest, are not exactly a football powerhouse.
The Hoosiers have not won more than eight games in a season since 1967, which is the last year they won the Big Ten and/or played in the Rose Bowl. However, they have lost eight or more games 12 times in the 2000s.
But this year is different. They were 7-0 heading into this past Saturday’s matchup with their longtime Big 10 18 rival… Wisconsin Washington.
We bought tickets to the game for our whole fam-damily a month ago… not caring about the product on the field as much as looking for a chance to take our older kids to visit their baby brother at college.
But sports loves a good Cinderella story, and Indiana has a great story to tell: a new coach, new attitude — and several transfers — are leading to success. ESPN took notice and sent their ” College GameDay” crew — including former IU coach Lee Corso — to Bloomington.
I’ve probably watched a grand total of 10 minutes of “College GameDay” in the last 10 years. It’s style (or hype) over substance. Too much yammering (and too many commercials), not enough action. (Besides, our daughter worked at Lowe’s, dreaded archrival of The Home Depot.)
We drove over Saturday morning. Here’s what I didn’t see:
the College GameDay crew
Here’s what I did experience:
Gorgeous fall foliage on the 2.5 hour ride from Cincy to Bloomington on a sunny day
Our son’s apartment (cleaner than we expected)
Our kids hanging out together
The pageantry of college football (the marching band, the cheerleaders, the chants, the fight song…)
A fun Big 10 18 college football game
Chatting with some of Andrew’s friends at the post-game tailgate
Dinner together
More gorgeous scenery and sunshine on the ride back home Sunday
I’ll take the latter over the former any day of the week. Including “GameDay.”
Growing up in Arkansas, I had no geographic affinity for any professional sports teams. I was free to pick and choose my favorites based on such key criteria (for an 8-year-old) as “cool helmets” (hello Oakland Raiders) and “unique court design” (Boston Celtics). In those prehistoric times, the only exposure to televised baseball was the NBC’s Saturday afternoon “Game of the Week” with broadcasters Curt Gowdy and Tony Kubek.
The Cincinnati Reds were on the Game of the Week quite often back then — it was the era of the Big Red Machine — and I fell head over hillbilly boots for Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, Davey Concepcion…
But my favorite player by far was Pete Rose. A gritty grinder, tough as nails. “Charlie Hustle.” I remember when he was Sports Illustrated’s Sportsman of the Year.
The accompanying article in SI mentioned how Pete was so obsessed with getting better at the game that he had a satellite dish installed at his house so he could study opposing pitchers. (With the gift of hindsight, we now know the satellite TV was just a way for him to track his bets.)
My friend Ned and I were at Riverfront Stadium in September of 1985 when Pete broke Ty Cobb’s record.
All hail the new Hit King!
Less than a year later, I got my first real job, working in the marketing department at Turfway Park, a thoroughbred racetrack in Northern Kentucky. Imagine my sheer elation when Pete Rose showed up in the press box where I worked. The 8-year-old inside me was doing cartwheels: “OhmygawditsPete! Pete! Right here! Be cool! Don’t say anything stupid…”
My joy lasted about as long as a six-furlong race. I realized Pete was a bit of an entitled jerk, and clearly hooked on gambling. My bosses allowed him and his cronies (muscle-headed butt kissers – and as we later found out, Pete’s errand boys for booking his bets) and their pneumatic girlfriends/spouses to hang out in the press box, with free food and beverages, because they were really good at increasing the track’s daily receipts. Finally, their loud, boorish behavior got to be too much for those of us trying to earn a living at the track the hard way, so management moved them to another smaller spot (“The Rose Room”) adjacent to the press box. (We could still hear them hooting and hollering, but it was muffled.)
A few years later, Pete was back on the cover of Sports Illustrated, but for a totally different reason:
I didn’t need the results of the official MLB investigation. There was NO doubt in my mind that Pete bet on baseball while he was the manager of the Reds.
“Never meet your heroes” is the old adage, and in this case it certainly was true. Pete was always unabashedly, and unapologetically, Pete, for better or for worse. And it was usually worse. If he could’ve just walked away from the seamy underbelly of sports, he might’ve earned a bit of forgiveness from both MLB and the general public. But that same hard-nosed persistence that made him such a tough out on the field worked against him off it. He set up camp at every casino and race track in the country, selling autographs so he could wager that money right back to his hosts.
Yes, as countless others have already mentioned, now MLB is in cahoots with the gambling that was once so verboten.
But rules are rules, and Pete broke them, and lied about breaking them… he only came “clean” when it helped him sell more books.
I DO think Pete belongs in the Hall of Fame for his feats on the field. This Substack post from Mark Whicker does a nice job profiling a warts-and-all version of Pete. Money quote:
The baseball Hall needs Rose the way the country music Hall needs George Jones or the chess Hall needs Bobby Fischer. It’s not the Hall of Well-Adjusted People. It should be the place where players of impact are recognized. There is no question that baseball was a brighter, richer place because Pete Rose was at its core, or that people who didn’t know a slider from a playground slide knew who Rose was, and that if we all loved what we did the same way Rose loved the game, our national GDP would be unmeasurable.
R.I.P. Charlie Hustle. I’ll always admire your baseball skills, but your off-the-field antics took the bloom off the Rose.
Yes, I still read comic strips. Not only that, but I also read blog posts from some comic strip creators (not the Dilbert guy, though…).
“Wayno” is the nom de plume for the guy who creates the weekday versions of Bizarro, a single panel strip created by Dan Piraro (who still does the Sunday version). Wayno just won the National Cartoonists Society award for Best Newspaper Panel. Here’s a recent example of his work:
A twist on the ol’ banana peel joke… with a tribute to music/pop art thrown in for good measure:
No wonder Wayno won!
But that’s not why we’re here today. We’re here because of Wayno’s blog. This recent post really hit home for me. It starts with a Captain Beefheart quote:
Art is rearranging and grouping mistakes.
Don Van Vlietaka Captain Beefheart
Don Van Vliet was eminently quotable, though much of what he said could be puzzling, as he had his own manner of forming thoughts and constructing sentences. The line we’re sharing here is straightforward and relatable. It’s also a valuable bit of advice.
My take is that experimentation and editing are required to produce art, and that it’s rarely created fully-formed. The most important step in creating any type of art is starting with something—a mark on a piece of paper or a couple of words, and building from there, keeping what works and setting aside what doesn’t. In fact, getting to a satisfying (if not great) work of art requires making countless mistakes.
It’s so true. And it echoes advice from other creators – Seth Godin’s “ship your work” and Steven Pressfield’s exhortation to fight “the resistance” by doing the work, and Anne LaMott’s concept of “sh*tty first drafts.”
If you want to make something great, start by making something. It might be awful… in fact it probably will be awful. But you’ll learn as you go – merrily screwing up along the way.
Trust the process – and mistakes are an integral part of the process.
Bob Newhart passed away Thursday at the ripe old age of 94. His humor, on the other hand, will never grow old and never leave us.
There are very few other comedians — if any — who could get laughs out of just one side of pretend phone conversations.
Bob did more with the pregnant pause than most comedians could do with 20 lines of dialogue. He was perfectly content to play the “normal” guy surrounded by wacky characters. And he crushed it for decades, starting with a best selling comedy album in the 60s, then The Bob Newhart Show in the 70s, Newhart in the 80s (with one of the best show finales ever).
Papa Elf in Elf in 2003, a guest actor Emmy in 2013 on The Big Bang Theory… He guest-hosted for Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show 87 times, and always told great stories on the late-night talk shows, especially the ones about his bestie Don Rickles.
LOS ANGELES – MAY 31: Legendary comedians and their wives (L-R) Don Rickles, Barbara Rickles, Ginnie Newhart, and Bob Newhart pose for a portrait backstage at the Las Vegas Convention Center at the AARP convention in Las Vegas, Nevada on May 31, 2013. (Photo by Jim Steinfeldt/Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)
And he was a lovable off-camera as he was on it.
“He was as kind and nice as he was funny. “
Carol Burnett
Oh, and he was married to his wife “Ginny” for 60+ years until she passed last year.
Not bad for a failed accountant.
Bye, Bob… the world misses your warmth and humor already.
You done said…