Dumbest name for sure for a team whose moniker is meant to evoke catatonia in their competitors.
But show your age, old man.
The name surely reflects the only terror that we of the golden years can still wield; that of the wisdom of knowing our limits. Sitting on our keesters, marveling at the prowess of athletes we once deemed ourselves to be, and having the ability to have a conversation with a patriot in the seat next without watching the authorities carry of a young soldier with a life altering injury from the tarmac of another blood sport is almost akin to the salacious pleasure in which you partook when you took that bite from the bratwurst. Where was your "Guardian"?
I’m also 80, grew up in the Midwest during the sixties, and know exactly what you mean about someone becoming quiet. Thanks for a good laugh and have a great tour!
Maybe a play called “The Guardians” about a man who starts out creating guard rails for his life to be safe and successful and healthy only to discover all that matters is love and laughter and a good bratwurst.
Re “Guardians”? Right on. They ‘ve only called themselves that for a couple years though, so maybe a heroic effort by a bemused brat-eater can effect a change. Ohioans do count as Midwesterners, so help them out why doncha? Sorry to be a drag that way but while you’re at it maybe you could lead the charge against the Washington Commanders too.
It seemed like a momentous opportunity got passed on, particularly in DC. A name truly reflective of the indigenous culture there could even have become a source of national pride. I had narrowed my top 2 choices down to “Rapacious Lobbyists” and “Filthy Warmongers”, so remember me when you make like Gen. Sherm, ok?
As is so often the case with your columns, there are so many memories here. But, more to the point, here it is 8:30 in the morning and you’ve made me hungry for a brat.
Too early now, but if I ask nicely enough perhaps I can talk my sweetie into us having brats for supper.
Please write that play of young you and old you. Do some people refer to the Guardians with straight faces? I'd roll my eyes or spew a wet "Phtttttt" after saying it.
I like the concept of time-travel inducing brats. As for songs, two early hits by the band “Chicago” come to mind: “25 or 6 to 4” and “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”
Cleveland Cleavers is as bad as Guardians, I hope. My AI worked hard on this, using both alliteration and assonance, as directed.
Cleveland Gordians is even worse, but probably some are pronouncing it that way awreddy. The mascot could be an impossible knot. This would appeal to very few. Mission accompli.
Congrats on the eyes, the brat, the game, the mate! Four out of five is a tremendous day, eh?
In the category of old guys and dumb things, it seems to me that the worst thing a young guy can do is listen to an old guy warning him not to do dumb things. It's the dumb things that you do when you're young that make life interesting. When you've become an old guy telling stories about the past (usually to young guys), it's always the stories about the dumb things you (and/or your friends) did that they want to hear.
It was probably a young guy who picked "Guardians" for the new name of the Cleveland baseball team. Just think of the story he'll be able to tell when he becomes an old guy. Nobody will believe it!
I think you're on to something. You could have the play broken up in to sections by eat bite of your Brattworst as you chew and thing of the past. As for the name the Cleveland Guardians, it rates right up there with the Washington Nationals as a name choice.
I am a young sixty-eight but I can’t remember when I started using the handrails to traverse staircases. This brings to mind the beautiful gold handrail that curves up to the second floor of Radio City Music Hall, where my daughter took me to see the Christmas Spectacular on New Years Day. It was indeed spectacular; Radio City is so elegant with the art deco mirrors and sconces on the old wood walls. We bought overpriced blue and red fizzy drinks and settled into our balcony seats and enjoyed the show. Afterward we walked down a block or two, past NBC Studios where the countless Johnny Carson Shows my dad and I used to watch together were filmed and then to the almighty Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza, with all the skaters gliding on the ice below under the watchful eye of the Golden Prometheus. But what I remember most was stopping at the blue and yellow umbrella over the Sabrett stand for a hot dog. The bun was nicely warmed and the onion sauce was as delicious as it’s it always has been, but the hot dog was a disappointment. I didn’t care, though. I was in my hometown in all it’s beautiful chaos. My daughter took a picture of me sitting in front of the fountain with the bright red oversized Christmas ornaments. I have lived in Boston for more than half my life. But New York blood will always course through my veins.
See you in Lexington, MA on June 22nd Garrison. Looking forward to it. It’s not the Fitzgerald, but it will do.
The "Guardians"?
Dumbest name for sure for a team whose moniker is meant to evoke catatonia in their competitors.
But show your age, old man.
The name surely reflects the only terror that we of the golden years can still wield; that of the wisdom of knowing our limits. Sitting on our keesters, marveling at the prowess of athletes we once deemed ourselves to be, and having the ability to have a conversation with a patriot in the seat next without watching the authorities carry of a young soldier with a life altering injury from the tarmac of another blood sport is almost akin to the salacious pleasure in which you partook when you took that bite from the bratwurst. Where was your "Guardian"?
"Salacious" ––– thanks for that.
I’m also 80, grew up in the Midwest during the sixties, and know exactly what you mean about someone becoming quiet. Thanks for a good laugh and have a great tour!
Maybe a play called “The Guardians” about a man who starts out creating guard rails for his life to be safe and successful and healthy only to discover all that matters is love and laughter and a good bratwurst.
You ARE onto something. Grab hold of the lid of Pandora's Box.They are all out. Write this madding story. It needs to be told. Mustard and all...
Re “Guardians”? Right on. They ‘ve only called themselves that for a couple years though, so maybe a heroic effort by a bemused brat-eater can effect a change. Ohioans do count as Midwesterners, so help them out why doncha? Sorry to be a drag that way but while you’re at it maybe you could lead the charge against the Washington Commanders too.
Let me at em! General Sherman ain't got nuttin on me.
It seemed like a momentous opportunity got passed on, particularly in DC. A name truly reflective of the indigenous culture there could even have become a source of national pride. I had narrowed my top 2 choices down to “Rapacious Lobbyists” and “Filthy Warmongers”, so remember me when you make like Gen. Sherm, ok?
I think "Lobbyists" would be enough. How about
Cleveland Dustbusters? Or Cleavers?
"It is the best of times, it is wurst of times."
Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my little comment. Frank
Good morning Garrison
As is so often the case with your columns, there are so many memories here. But, more to the point, here it is 8:30 in the morning and you’ve made me hungry for a brat.
Too early now, but if I ask nicely enough perhaps I can talk my sweetie into us having brats for supper.
Maybe I’ll even make some madeleines for dessert?
Please write that play of young you and old you. Do some people refer to the Guardians with straight faces? I'd roll my eyes or spew a wet "Phtttttt" after saying it.
I like the concept of time-travel inducing brats. As for songs, two early hits by the band “Chicago” come to mind: “25 or 6 to 4” and “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”
Cleveland Cleavers is as bad as Guardians, I hope. My AI worked hard on this, using both alliteration and assonance, as directed.
Cleveland Gordians is even worse, but probably some are pronouncing it that way awreddy. The mascot could be an impossible knot. This would appeal to very few. Mission accompli.
Congrats on the eyes, the brat, the game, the mate! Four out of five is a tremendous day, eh?
In the category of old guys and dumb things, it seems to me that the worst thing a young guy can do is listen to an old guy warning him not to do dumb things. It's the dumb things that you do when you're young that make life interesting. When you've become an old guy telling stories about the past (usually to young guys), it's always the stories about the dumb things you (and/or your friends) did that they want to hear.
It was probably a young guy who picked "Guardians" for the new name of the Cleveland baseball team. Just think of the story he'll be able to tell when he becomes an old guy. Nobody will believe it!
I think you're on to something. You could have the play broken up in to sections by eat bite of your Brattworst as you chew and thing of the past. As for the name the Cleveland Guardians, it rates right up there with the Washington Nationals as a name choice.
Title
Dejà View
Dejà Who?
Aksawnt Grahve or Aksawn Ayg-yew? Ya got me.
Bring back the “Indians” (but not Chief Wahoo).
The Cleveland Renamed? Does that fit on a uniform?
I am a young sixty-eight but I can’t remember when I started using the handrails to traverse staircases. This brings to mind the beautiful gold handrail that curves up to the second floor of Radio City Music Hall, where my daughter took me to see the Christmas Spectacular on New Years Day. It was indeed spectacular; Radio City is so elegant with the art deco mirrors and sconces on the old wood walls. We bought overpriced blue and red fizzy drinks and settled into our balcony seats and enjoyed the show. Afterward we walked down a block or two, past NBC Studios where the countless Johnny Carson Shows my dad and I used to watch together were filmed and then to the almighty Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza, with all the skaters gliding on the ice below under the watchful eye of the Golden Prometheus. But what I remember most was stopping at the blue and yellow umbrella over the Sabrett stand for a hot dog. The bun was nicely warmed and the onion sauce was as delicious as it’s it always has been, but the hot dog was a disappointment. I didn’t care, though. I was in my hometown in all it’s beautiful chaos. My daughter took a picture of me sitting in front of the fountain with the bright red oversized Christmas ornaments. I have lived in Boston for more than half my life. But New York blood will always course through my veins.
See you in Lexington, MA on June 22nd Garrison. Looking forward to it. It’s not the Fitzgerald, but it will do.