Wham bam van damme alakazam

Pronouncements, observations, and reflections of the week (3 posts squashed into one — I'm busy, whaddaya want?):

Wham bam

A 7-game losing streak is considerably less ominous when followed by a 4-game winning streak. The Ms are now 14-13 for July (the Angels are only 11-12, which also helps a great deal) — so the worst that could happen is they break even for the month, and last night's win means the worst possible outcome of this so-called “do-or-die”series would be that they fall one game in standings.

What we have here is a real race going into August. And since neither club seems poised to make any big deals before tonight's trade deadline, it's very likely going to come down to the Angels' offensive power vs. the Mariners' pitching and defense in this division. This is fun, this baseball.

PS - For the record, the Cubbies are only 1 behind the Brewers — which means there are going to be a lot of clenched sphincters around Wyatt's grandfather's house this August as well.

Van Damme

Speaking of Wyatt, he turned 2 months old on Sunday, 9 weeks old today. And speaking of clenching, he's rolled out a brand new kind of cry for us — it starts out loud, full, and steady, then descends into his gut as he slowly runs out of air but strains to keep it going. It ends as a long, deep growl fading into a silent, open-mouthed grimace. The only comparison that comes close would be the sound Jean-Claude Van Damme makes when he hits his opponents in Bloodsport:

Wyatt has also learned how to punch us in the face, so for us parenthood may very well turn out to be our own private Kumite.

Alakazam

Of last year's two turn-of-the-century-European-magician movies, The Illusionist is better than The Prestige. Most people seem to disagree with this assessment, so I will enumerate my reasons three:

1. Hitchcock vs. Mamet. The mystery of The Illusionist appears to be complex and surreal and impenetrable, but the truth behind it turns out to be quite simple. The truth in The Prestige, on the other hand, becomes increasingly complicated and twisted as the film progresses.
   
   The Illusionist (like Hitchcock) removes the layers of a seemingly supernatural mystery to reveal a simple, even obvious, truth. As with Rear Window, Vertigo, Psycho, and North By Northwest, everything in The Illusionist seems much more sinister and twisted than it really is.
   
   On the other hand, The Prestige (like Mamet) layers new truths upon truths until the only thing we know for sure is that “truth” is going to continue twisting back on itself until the credits roll. The former method requires careful and deliberate filmmaking; the latter is more of an exercise in being clever and devious.
   
   
2. Paul Giamatti (et al). After American Splendor, Sideways, Cinderella Man, and now The Illusionist, anyone who doesn't see Giamatti as one of the most talented and nuanced performers of his generation simply isn't paying attention. And regardless of how they handled the billing on the posters or in the credits — in The Illusionist, Giamatti is clearly the leading actor.
   
   Besides Giamatti, there's Edward Norton, who's always good — we already knew that. And then there's Rufus Sewell, who we haven't seen since Dark City, but still expect to be good (and he is). And finally, we learn something new: We learn that Jessica Biel, when properly clothed, can also be good.
   
   The Prestige also had a fine cast, but it looked something like a collision of Batman Begins and Scoop. For their part, Jackman and Bale are both fine actors (and superheroes), but neither of them holds a candle to Norton when it comes to suggesting a quiet, sinister darkness behind the kind face.
   
   
3. Summon the Cinemagician. The soft light, warm hues, and gentle flicker of the The Illusionist conjure up comparisons with the great Georges Méliès — himself a magician as well as Europe's greatest turn-of-the-century filmmaker. There's even a scene in the film that suggests that early motion-picture trickery (of which Méliès was the master) could be the secret behind Norton's most amazing — and disturbing — illusions.

Get it back! Get it back!

Game 100 of the season, and the Ms have lost 6 in a row. Not good, not good.

But. They've come home to Safeco, where hopefully they can turn this around (they're .633 at home this season, compared to .460 on the road). And with 4 games against Oakland followed by 3 against L.A., the time to turn this around is right funking now.

But. Weaver's pitching. And has already given up 5 hits (including two HRs) in the first 2 innings.

But. Richie just answered with one of his own. (If two guys embody the ups and downs of the Mariners this year, it's Weaver and Sexson.) And Ichiro just moved Yuni from first to third on a beautiful 2-strike/2-out hit & run.

So there's hope. And 62 games, 7 innings, and 1 out to go.

World Series time

Baseball good!

Maus and Wyatt gave me a 5-hour furlough on Friday so I could get down to Safeco for my first post-baby ballgame. Maus even gave me a $50 Mariners gift card to spend! ($10 of it went to beer; I dropped the rest in that kids' shop by the play area in center field. Of course.)

Great to be back at the park after a 3-month hiatus. The Ms lost, thanks to a Sheffield grand slam (which Kenji, bless him, negated last night with one of his own), but the highlight of the evening was the announcement of Ichiro's 5-year contract extension, which brought the house down. (The Ichiro highlight reel set to OK Go's Here It Goes Again takes the prize for best clip montage I've ever seen at Safeco.)

Plus, Seattle's only 3 back in the AL West and 2 back in the Wild Card. Momentum!

The other highlight of the week is the return of VH1's World Series of Pop Culture. This is worth watching just for the fantastic team names: I Y Jake Ryan. Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, and Mike. Fra-gee-lay. They're Real And They're Spectacular. Carlton Banks Dance Academy.

Sadly, all the best-named teams have already been eliminated from this year's tourney except for Fra-Gee-Lay. But Maus and I are having a grand time coming up with pop-culture team names of our own:

• They Got The Mustard Out
• Nobody's Listening Anyway
  (or Juuust A Bit Outside)
• They Mostly Come At Night Mostly
• The Regal Beagles
• The Screaming Vikings
• Bought, Sold, and Processed
• Physics Club Banquet
• Baby Fishmouth
  (or Don't F*** With Mr. Zero)
• Fifty Bucks, Grandpa
• Zero Point Zero
• Those Aren't Pillows

We could keep spitting these out all day. We often do.

12 games

The Ms are 12 games above .500.

I just wanted to write that down and click PUBLISH.

They've won eight in a row. (PUBLISH again.)

They haven't played this well since 2003 (when they were a much better team, at least on paper). And strangely enough, it's the bench and bullpen that seem to be driving this surge ahead. We have six players batting over .290, and half of them are 2nd-stringers (and unfortunately, two of them are catchers). Can we sit Sexson and let him spell Broussard a couple times a week, instead of the other way around? And I wonder if Burke can play left field?

And then there's Weaver, who has pitched, no kidding, three great games in a row. (I half expect to get an error message when I click PUBLISH on that one.)

And J.J. The best closer in baseball this year, handily.

It's all very exciting, very heartening, and it also seems a little tenuous. But I'm glad it's happening now, right in the meat of the season as we appraoch the All-Star Break (and the trade deadline). It's great time to be gaining momentum and emerging as a contender.

I don't know how Hargrove's bewilderingly sudden exit will affect their momentum, but I have a hunch that McLaren is the best set of hands for this team to fall into. He's a warm guy, has been with the team a long time, and he's just a little bit Lou.

This is fun. Winning is fun.

PUBLISH that.