All-Star

The Major League Baseball All-Star Game took place tonight. If you read much of anything written in anticipation of it, chances are you found lots of snippy comments and dismissals of the mid-season exhibition. The brickbats have been rightfully earned. Players beg off the squad for the smallest of reasons. Most of the elected starters now put in token appearances. Interleague play has tarnished the appeal of match-ups that otherwise weren't seen except for this game or the World Series.

The source of much of the displeasure with the game stems from the 2002 edition, which unceremoniously ended in a tie because both teams had used their full complement of players and the managers didn't want to burden their last pitchers. It was a bad decision that led to a bigger one: making the exhibition "mean something" by staking home field advantage in the World Series on the outcome. Why hinge a crucial postseason advantage on a game that otherwise doesn't count--it never did, other than league bragging rights--and isn't taken seriously by the participants?

I fondly remember watching the All-Star Game on TV when I was a kid. It was one of the rare times to see players from the American League and even some of the other National League teams. Keep in mind that comparatively few games aired then. I don't remember how often the Reds were on in the '80s, but it wasn't anywhere close to the approximately 90% of the schedule that I get now.

So while people gripe about the rule that requires a representative from each team, at least back then it made sense. I wanted to see players from my favorite team out there with guys from all the other clubs. One of my favorite aspects of the game is seeing the field taken by players in all those different uniforms. While they're playing on one of two sides,wearing their regular uniforms turns the showcase on what are theoretically the sport's best (or best that year).

I recall staying up for the end of that fateful 2002 game, although I may very well have fallen asleep before the arrival of the boneheaded decision to call it a tie. (The increasingly later times for first pitch don't make it friendly for kids or adults who work regular business days.) I don't think the All-Star Game has meant as much to me since as it did before then. Once I had joined the working world I still kept up with the game. Now it's become something that I'll watch if I'm home but won't sweat missing if something else is going on. (Tonight's game conflicted with a screening of the final Harry Potter film. Even after I got home, I only half paid attention.)

Some things look better through the lens of nostalgia, and some things were better the way they used to be. When it comes to the All-Star Game, the latter sentiment is the correct one to apply.

Home box office

These days movies can be viewed practically anywhere at anytime. Smartphones, portable media devices, DVD players in minivans, and laptop computers have made it so that we can see almost whatever we want at the press of a button.

This is not how it used to be, obviously. The two biggest developments in my own moviewatching as a kid were when my parents subscribed to the Disney Channel and when we got a VCR. The Disney Channel used to be a premium channel, just like HBO, Showtime, Cinemax, and The Movie Channel. Now it's part of the regular cable packages, and the programming, from what I can tell, is substantially different.

The Disney Channel used to show a bunch of the old cartoons, episodes of The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and Disney features like The Apple Dumpling Gang, The Devil and Max Devlin, and Candleshoe. There were also the DTV music videos: mostly cartoon footage appropriately cut to pop songs, I suppose as an alternative to MTV. I loved these. (The one that sticks out the most in my memory is for Darryl Hall and John Oates' "Private Eyes".) After the cable bill arrived, I'd pore over the booklet that listed the channel's programming for the month. I can remember spending better portions of days watching whatever oldies happened to be scheduled.

Of course, there were also the premium channel previews and free weekends from time to time, which allowed me to catch up with non-Disney Channel movies. I can remember seeing some Mike Tyson fights this way, as HBO happened to be free at advantageous times. For whatever reason, Showtime tended to come in unscrambled regularly, especially at my grandmother's house. The picture had some graininess but was certainly very watchable.

Renting movies was always an exciting thing to do, as if it were a special occasion to pick something to watch. Examining the shelves at the small independent grocery store in town or at the larger ones nearby was a favorite thing of mine to do. Will the one I want be in?

It's with such memories that this summer I've decided to go back and watch films that I saw back then and probably haven't seen since. Catching up on the ones I didn't see is a little extra thrilling, even if the movies are junk. Within the last couple weeks I've watched The Last Starfighter, Summer School, Weird Science, and Big Trouble in Little China. Of those I had seen before, none have lived up to what I recalled them being, but they've been fun to see anyway. As with any art, there's what's in the text and what I bring to it, so even if the former is sometimes lacking, the latter more than makes up the difference.

Childish things

This blog post about Lite Brite triggered memory of some of the toys from my childhood. I needed some help from the hive mind to recall the name of some of these, which I hadn't thought about in a long, long time.

Mighty Men and Monster Makers holds the distinction of being the first present I ever found before it was given to me. I was probably in first grade and was snooping in my parents' bedroom closet. I'm pretty sure I felt guilty then about what I did. Remembering it makes me kind of relive the guilt all over. The toy allowed you to switch out various parts and make rubbings of, well, mighty men and monsters. (Scroll to 4:36 to see the old TV commercial.)

The name of rub-on transfers, or action transfers, eluded me, but once I was assisted in identifying them, I found them by the brand I remember most: Presto Magix rub-on transfers. You could use a sharp pencil or the included special stick to rub the transfers onto a canvas to make your own scenes. Along the same line were the thin vinyl images known as Colorforms that you could stick onto a laminated background.

Looking back at these toys, I'm sort of amazed that such items held my interest as a kid. I suppose the attraction was the ability to interact with these simple playthings, to create my own stories and creatures. How powerful too is the nostalgia that comes with remembering them. I wasn't entirely prepared for that.

Turn the page

The writing has been on the wall for awhile, but now it appears that the warning is about to be fulfilled. Borders is expected to file for bankruptcy. A quick scan for news about Barnes and Noble shows that opinions seem to be more favorable for them, although I swear I've read that their long-term future has been held in question. Regardless, some are tolling the bell for the bookstore. It's likely to become louder if Borders shuts down a lot of stores or closes altogether.

One of my favorite stores to go to as a kid was a local bookstore in a strip mall. The selection was nothing compared to what you'll find at Borders and Barnes and Noble, but I don't recall those superstores being around then. (Mall tenants B. Dalton and Waldenbooks would have been the competition then, I suppose.) If we went to Kmart or the single screen second-run movie theater or visited the library across the street, chances were good that we'd stop in at Newton's Book Store, especially if I was with my mom.

Newton's Book Store could handle the mystical process of the special order and find books that I'd never seen and might not have known even existed. At some point I got such hard-to-find books as The Baseball Address List, an autograph collector's handy guide with the names and addresses of every living person who'd played in Major League Baseball, and Late Night with David Letterman: The Book, which I wish I had but which I think got ruined in storage at my parents'.

As far as I can tell, Newton's is no longer in business. (It's listed among the retailers in my school district, but that document says it was last updated in May 1998.) I'm kind of surprised it made it that long since the superstore boom of the '90s surely wiped out a lot of small, independent stores.

Of course the small shop never stood a chance. I don't recall the first time I went to one of the big stores--it was probably when I was in college--but the selection was staggering. (I might have first visited Little Professor Book Center, an independent chain that left Columbus some time ago but which may still be around in some places if this dated website and searches are to be believed.) Here were stores that were destinations and that provided immediate access to books that one might have to wait for a week or more if going elsewhere. I remember spending plenty of time browsing the aisles and exploring what might be there to find.

Now these superstores are endangered species. Coupons or sales that chop the prices down significantly have become more plentiful, which is pretty much the only reason I will buy from these places anymore. In the age of Amazon.com and quick shipping, there's virtually no reason to buy something at Borders or B&N with their full retail prices. (Come on, who's going to buy a new CD for $19, which is at least $5 more than most places.)

Perfect example: this week I bought a $10 Groupon for $20 off at B&N and intended to use it locally to support one of the stores in my area. I wanted to get the Blu-ray of The Double Life of Veronique. I could order it through the company's website for home delivery for $30 or place an online order for in-store pick-up for the full $40 price. Hmm, let me think about that one. Of course I bought it through the website and am having it shipped to me.

Yet even though the potential disappearance of these mega booksellers wouldn't really affect my purchasing habits, I'll miss them if or when they're gone. Maybe it's nostalgia for places that meant something to me when I was younger. Maybe it's a fear that tangible things are going to be harder to come by in the future. Maybe it's sentimentality. Sure, I have a Kindle and enjoy using it--I'm part of the problem!--but I still like to roam the stacks too.

Weird eats

I was reading The AV Club's survey of its writers about weird childhood foods, and the memories came flooding back about the strange stuff I ate. The following items were not consumed out of necessity but because I liked them or because others ate them. I cannot say that I remember when I last ate any of these, so it's been some time.

-Mustard sandwiches

These are self-explanatory. I like mustard. Spread it on some bread and there you go.

-Grated Parmesan cheese sandwiches

As far as I know, this recipe is my own creation. Toast two pieces of bread. Shake Kraft grated Parmesan cheese on one piece of toast. Top with the other piece of toast. It's a good thing I'm not hungry right now because this sounds good. Of all the items on this list, this is one I'm likely to have eaten within the last ten to fifteen years.

I would also dip into that memorable green can to eat the grated cheese by the spoonful.

-Cinnamon Graham crackers with cake frosting

Take two cinnamon Graham crackers and put cake frosting, preferably vanilla, between them. I'm so ashamed.

-Ice cream with Ritz crackers

This one may have come from my grandmother. I remember that sometimes she would eat vanilla ice cream with Ritz crackers kind of like one might enjoy chips and salsa. What's the idea behind it? I DON'T KNOW.

-Ice cream with Nestle Quik

In comparison to the rest, this one probably isn't as weird and might even be considered normal use of the product. Sprinkle the powdered flavoring on top of vanilla ice cream and mix in to create a new flavor--I'd use chocolate and strawberry--or don't mix it in and enjoy. That works too.

-Chicken livers

I'll end on something that is legitimately recognized as what one might eat. I loved chicken livers as a kid. I want to say that I even got them from Kentucky Fried Chicken on occasion. I definitely ate those that my grandmother made. I think that at one point I must have been put off them, probably when I became more aware of what livers are. Still, it done right, I think I'd eat these again.

Fess up. What weird things did you eat as a kid?

Day by day

Today's entry is in response to this post about holiday decorations and one's favorite as a child. That's an easy one.

My favorite Christmas decoration from my childhood was a felt Advent wall calendar. The big white rectangle had pockets for each day across the top and bottom. A big green tree in the middle was dotted with beads for hanging the daily ornaments. Even though us kids knew what ornament was in each day's pocket after so many years (or could peek), it was always fun to go through it day by day.

With three brothers there was always a certain amount of competition for who would get to take out each day's piece. I don't remember how that was resolved. Through the years the beads seemed to have more trouble holding onto the loops used to attach the ornaments to the tree, or maybe it was that we got taller and thus were more likely to brush them off when passing by.

There must be something intrinsically appealing about Advent calendars. In my high school German class I remember that we were excited to see what was behind the door each day of the culturally specific calendar. Imagine high school students being interested in something like that!

I've had pleasant reminders of these old calendars with the holiday update of iPhone game Angry Birds. Unlike the regular game, you can't unlock levels as you complete them. Instead, a new one is available each day leading up to Christmas. Rather than working through them all in a few days or a week, there's a new little thrill each day. I'm like a kid all over again.

Cool it

July has been unusually cool and low in humidity. Lower temperatures mean that my apartment's air conditioning hasn't needed to kick on as often, which provides some nice little summer savings.

One of the topics in a Cincinnati sportswriter's blog entry today was central air and his preference of not having it growing up. Either his miserliness is exceptionally strong or nostalgia is clouding his memory. In this part of the country air conditioning may not be as critical as it is in the South, but it's not something I would want to do without.

I didn't grow up with central air. In fact, I didn't live anywhere that had it until I moved into the apartment where I lived during my senior year of college. Funny but I don't have any rosy recollections of sweating like a horse while struggling to fall asleep at night or trying to hear the console TV over the loud hum of a window unit and/or box fan.

With the way my shared bedroom was configured, there was always the risk of kicking the fan if my brother or I needed to get up in the dead of the night. The only advantage these whirring machines had over AC was the lulling white noise they generated, but that hardly makes them equal.

I don't remember a lack of central air promoting more neighborliness because it got us out of the house. Having an above ground pool took care of that, I suppose.

So if some old-timers (or aspiring ones) wan to reflect fondly about not having central air, let 'em. Just don't expect me to join the chorus.

In dreams

Last night I dreamed that I was in a vast, frigid plain that stretched border-to-border across the northern part of Illinois (but south of Chicago). It was a wasteland that was essentially walled off from the rest of the state at the north and south ends. I don't remember why I was there, but at one point I got in a car to drive.

The car quickly built up speed and became uncontrollable. (At one point I was driving backwards.) Try as I might, I could not slow it down. In the dream I could feel how depressing the brakes did not make a difference. I tried throwing it into neutral, which also had no effect, and even into park. That car had a mind of its own. Eventually it did stop, but I have no memory of how that happened.

Although Illinois didn't factor in it, this story may sound familiar because part of this dream was reality back at Thanksgiving. The experience alone was distressing enough, but with this latest vision during sleep I realized that the car that resisted slowing down manifested a recurring dream from my childhood and one that perhaps has continued through my adulthood. (I don't know when the last time was that I had it.)

When I was kid, well before I had a driver's license or temporary permit, there was one dream that would pop up time and again. It might start out differently, but inevitably it would end with me in a car, or behind the wheel of a car, with a mind of its own. It was out of control and could not slow down. It would tear around the streets of my small hometown before shrinking (or find some way to fit into a smaller space) and diving into a hole.

The most common thing the car would disappear into was a grate by the post office. I also have a memory of the car going into the ground floor level of the elementary school, although once inside it seemed to be in more of a sewer system. Or maybe that was after going into the grate. As best I can recall, once the car disappeared down the hole, that was usually the end of the dream.

Since I'm armed with a psychology degree, I can do an interpretation that's meaningful to me now. I have no idea when or why I had the dream as a kid, although I can guess. It's been powerful to acknowledge this dream's role in my sleeping life. It's so vivid that in my mind's eye I can still see parts of that childhood vision as clear as day. I just hope I'm not visited by it again any time soon, although I'll take the dream any day over the real thing.

Memories are made of this

Time to catch up on some old business. About a month ago I asked for questions, but I never answered any. Let's fix that.

Karen asked, "What is your earliest memory from childhood?"

I think I have a pretty good memory, but as I've been keeping this blog, I've realized that I'm not always very good at retrieving childhood memories. Perhaps I'm just not old enough. The elderly seem to recall things from their childhood as if the events happened the previous day.

I'm fascinated with the issues surrounding memory, perception, and identity, the things that help make us who we are and how we see ourselves and others. Memory tends to be a lot faultier than we believe it to be. This is my way of providing a disclaimer that what I believe to be my earliest childhood memory may not actually be it. I believe I remember it, but it's entirely possible that I recall some of these things from a reconstructed history via 8mm home movies and family reminiscing. (It's likely to be more severe for today's kids who have everything videotaped. What memories are real and what ones are Memorex?)

When I was three (I think), my family went on a trip to Hawaii. My dad had sold enough seed at the grain elevator to win this vacation. I can't say that I remember a lot about the trip. I can conjure some vague images of the island if I think hard about it.

I remember the hotel room and lots of white. I can see a baby bed, which would have been for my brother, who was around a year old if I have the time line correct. Yet what's clearest in my mind is something incredibly banal: a pink Hostess Sno-Ball. I don't recall myself or anyone in my family ever eating these particular snack cakes, but I swear that I see one of them in my memory of Hawaii. Talk about totally random if it is true.

I have some faint recollections of being scared of the seagulls--or were they pigeons?--but I know that's something my parents have told me about after the fact. I can also envision a luau, but I'm guessing that may exist on an old home movie too.

Rather than claim that my earliest memory features a prominent role by artificially colored junk food, I was going to say that I remember the United States bicentennial parade in my hometown. That would beat Hawaii by six months or so, but I'm not as certain about this as I am about that Sno-Ball, even though it may be a figment of my imagination.

On a related note, am I the only one who sees what little I remember of the 70s as though it's on fine grain film stock? There's kind of a sepia tone too.

Meme for the holidays

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?

Wrapping paper. It's pretty lame that I had to do a web search to learn how to wrap gifts, but I think I can do it somewhat competently now.

2. Real tree or artificial?

My family always had an artificial tree.

3. When do you put up the tree?

I've never put one up while living on my own.

4. When do you take the tree down?

What does not go up does not need to come down.

5. Do you like eggnog?

I've never had it. The name sounds gross, mainly because of the "egg" part.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?

Nothing in particular stands out. Maybe something Star Wars-related. I was excited to get a CD player when I was in high school, but is that too old for this question?

7. Do you have a nativity scene?

My parents have one. I think we've already covered the fact that I've never put up any decorations.

8. Hardest person to buy for?

I imagine I can be since I have difficulty making a list, but that's not sticking to the spirit of the question. If I think about the people I'm buying for, I usually don't have that much trouble.

9. Easiest person to buy for?

I'll have to say my dad. I've usually purchased tickets to a sporting event. He's probably the hardest to buy for because who knows what he wants and easiest to buy for because the tickets have been a sure thing.

10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?

Again, nothing really jumps out at me. There have been clothes I didn't like and felt ashamed for not wearing or not liking. A chocolate-colored short sleeve shirt comes to mind. I'd probably wear that now.

11. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards?

I appreciate that we're all busy, especially at this time of year, but mailed Christmas cards trump their e-mail counterparts. It isn't close, even if no more effort than signing one's name is taken. E-cards are better than nothing, though.

12. Favorite Christmas movie?

I'm embarrassed to say that I am not well versed in Christmas movies, although I've probably seen every bad one released in theaters over the past decade. I hadn't seen It's a Wonderful Life until a few years ago, and even that was viewed out of obligation. I enjoy Elf quite a bit.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?

It just sort of happens. Let's say the beginning of December. For knitted gifts I've started in October.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?

Nope, can't say that I have.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?

Cookies, chocolates, it's all good. Might as well add peppermint ice cream, a Christmas Eve staple, to the mix too.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree?

Colored, without a doubt. It might be nice to get a few strings of lights to put around my place. I've always liked the atmosphere in homes with the Christmas lights on indoors and the rest of the lights out.

17. Favorite Christmas song?

"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". It feels like a song for the end of the year, when you feel like slowing down from the hustle and bustle. What does this say about me, though, since this song made The AV Club's list of morally dubious holiday entertainments?

18. Travel for Christmas or stay home?

Travel. I'm kind of dreading the longer than usual drive this year and the fact that I'm probably going to be strongly encouraged to go out of my way to pick up and bring back an elderly relative.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?

Sure. If you know the words to "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer", this is a no-brainer.

20. Angel on the treetop or star?

You know, I can't remember what my family used. My impulse is to say that an angel was atop the tree.

21. Open the presents on Christmas Eve or morning?

We've always opened presents on Christmas morning.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?

The commercialized aspect of the season bothers me. News reports would have you believe that you're not performing your civic duty to spur the economy by going hog-wild in the nation's stores. With every fiber of my being I loathe the diamond commercials on television. They make me feel guilty, and I don't even have someone to feel guilty about not buying the sparkly rocks for.

23. What I love most about Christmas...

Ideally, I love being able to take a few days free of the daily demands and obligations and relax. I also love being able to make others happy.

24. What's your favorite Christmas memory?

Every year my grandmother would take each of us to lunch and to go shopping so she would get an idea of what we wanted.

25. Believe or not?

Santa? Yeah, I think the spirit of selflessness and giving is revealed more at this time of the year than at any other.

Sports talk

Since I have no idea at what late hour I'll be getting home from tonight's Spoon concert, you get an early, non-knitting post.

A question on Donia's blog grabbed my attention: is sports the main form of bonding between males?

There's usually at least a kernel of truth in all sweeping generalizations. That's how conventional wisdom and stereotypes come to be accepted. My reflex is to give an affirmative answer to the question, but is it even true in my own experience?

I read a lot as a kid. I started at an early age and was apparently so taken with books that my parents feared I was going to be an egghead. (The comment didn't reflect anti-intellectualism on their part, but the word must have stung for me to be able to recall it even now.) To their relief, I got into sports while retaining my love of reading.

I was never the most gregarious child--to a lesser degree, the same is true of the adult me--so sports smoothed the way to interact with others. Being a fan of the Reds, Bengals, and Dayton Flyers was something I could share with my dad and the community. Playing Little League and pick-up games were easy ways to get to know other boys my age.

Competing in and following sports provides plenty to discuss. Unless you're dealing with trivia, there are rarely, if ever, definitive answers when it comes to sports talk. It's just opinions, and non-threatening ones at that, especially when compared to politics and religion, two topics people take as seriously. Oh, I know people get worked up about sports, but in casual conversation it's a safer subject than most. It's something to talk about without getting personal.

Most of my male friends then and now are interested in sports. Frequently it's the center of conversation. Sports and pop culture probably do battle to be the primary source of discussion. Certainly it's true in groups, but it's also the case one-on-one.

Gender stereotypes would have us believe that men don't talk about their feelings. My experiences tell me that a lot of guys are uncomfortable opening up and hearing someone else do so. I can think of instances when I've needed to talk about something and had trouble getting male friends to listen because it was something that couldn't be kept beyond arm's length. Sports allow bonding on an unspoken level, which is how many would like to keep it.

Similar personalities and backgrounds are major factors in all relationship formation, but for many males, I think that sports participation, observation, and discussion is on the next highest level. I don't believe that it is always a conscious decision but rather has more to do with our acculturation.

This is just a modern rock song

Evenings have been busy this week, so there's not much knitting-related to write about right now. I need to do some serious knitting this weekend. I need to get something finished! I have no FOs--zero!--this month.

I can't squeeze a whole entry out of revealing that Marge is witnessed knitting in The Simpsons Movie--honest to goodness--so I must dip into the Ask the Secret Knitter mini-stockpile of questions about yours truly. Feel free to add to it. (I only have two left.)

Donna asks a series of questions:

1. Donald or Daffy Duck?

It's been ages since I've seen anything with either of them, so this is not the most informed choice. I'd have to go with Daffy. He's more of a wit whereas Donald is merely a hothead.

2. What's one toy or possession you had as a kid that you wish you still had?

That's a tough one. As you may recall, there was much purging of childhood things at the end of last year when my parents moved. I have my favorite teddy bear, one that my maternal grandmother made. Or at least I'm pretty sure I have it in one of the boxes in the closet. I seem to remember that she made a couple others for me--I recall one bigger and one smaller than my favorite--but I don't know where those are or if they're still salvageable from my parents' home. Of my grandparents I only knew my grandmothers. My mom's mother died when I was in second grade, so it would be nice to have more things to remember her by, especially items she made.

3. Do you have a great tale of unrequited love that will make us all weep buckets?

Just one? All kidding aside, I'll say that this is a sensitive subject. I don't know that I have anything remarkable to relate, just an ongoing tale of woe regarding matters of the heart. I think this is the point when "How Soon Is Now?" should start blaring in the background.

4. What do you think of as your true vocation -- television production or writing? Or something else entirely?

First and foremost, I think I'm a writer. It may not be what's on my job description--a stunner, considering my official title has eight words--but writing is what I'm meant to do and what I wanted to do from early on.

In third grade I wrote a story called Purple Men, the plot of which has long since been lost. It was well-received, or humored, by adults. I followed it up with Red Men, which made the teacher angry because someone was killed in it. (In both cases I think said Men were aliens.) I mentioned before that I liked writing book reports, and my eighth grade parody piece Indiana Egg and the Mixing Bowl of Doom was printed in the junior high creative writing publication. (I still have that, I think.) I loved the etymology class I took in high school.

I wanted to be a sportswriter, but when I got to college, the broadcast media attracted me. Despite my nearly 150 hours of the movie review TV show and hundreds of ballgames between radio and TV to the contrary, I was and still probably am on the shy side, so the whole interviewing thing may have scared me off print somewhat.

I never intended to do TV production as a career. I sort of fell into it. I like it, but I feel more at ease with my writing. As long as I can remember, teachers told me that my work was easy to read. I've developed a voice, perhaps a clunky, rambling one at times, but it's what seems right for me. Am I any good at it? Who knows? Most of the time I'm adequate, and occasionally something better will sneak out. I'm also a terrible self-critic, so ignore my hesitation to say that I think I'm good.

5. If you had to be admitted to one TV hospital, which one would it be and why?

I may be pop culture savvy, but if memory serves, the only TV hospital show I've watched with any regularity is E.R. No Quincy M.E. or Trapper John, M.D. or even St. Elsewhere. I've never seen a full episode of Grey's Anatomy. So while the Chicago emergency room might not be the most desirable place to be--half the time the ward resembles a combat zone--it wins the prize by default. And Maura Tierney is a babe, even for a depressive, recovering alcoholic TV doctor, so why not?