Ironman Favre takes last bow

Retiring QB legend personifies all that is great about sports

March 5, 2008
BY RICK TELANDER
Chicago Sun-Times Columnist



I'm pretty sure Brett Favre is the most beloved NFL star ever. Maybe that's a thin branch to tread, but think about it.

Dan Marino, Joe Montana, Walter Payton, Jim Brown, Gale Sayers. How many others?

Johnny Unitas, Joe Namath, Emmitt Smith, ''Mean'' Joe Greene, Red Grange, Bronko Nagurski?

None revered, appreciated by all, the way Favre is.

Every football hero before Favre lacked something, either in personality, endurance, struggle, geography, timing, enthusiasm, humor.

You think of Barry Sanders and you sigh. You think of Dick Butkus and you wince.

Think of Brett Favre? You smile.

Of course, Favre has all the quarterback records.

Good Lord, his bio takes up 30 pages of the Packers' 2007 media guide.

Without question Favre is the most durable quarterback in NFL history. You can get a measure of his consistency by considering he was one of only seven quarterbacks to start all 16 regular-season games -- in 1993.

And, of course, he hasn't missed a start since.

So suddenly we are left with the vacuum created by his quick, unexpected, yet ultimately reasonable voice mail to ESPN's Chris Mortensen, stating his own legacy left him stressed out, with ''big shoes for me to fill.''

That message itself showcased one of the reasons Favre was beloved not only in Green Bay, but also -- a lot less noisily -- in enemy strongholds such as Chicago, Detroit and Minneapolis.

How could anyone detest a competitor who so loved his competitors and the competition?

Universal admiration evident

Favre always told it the way he saw it, even if it didn't fit somebody's preconceived notion of what superstardom should be.

Always, Favre's football activities were colored with joy, infectious puppy-dog-with-a-new-toy joy.

You could go to a Packers postgame news conference, and Favre would talk to the media with care and some introspection, even if he was battered to a pulp (which often was the case).



Then you could go into the locker room and see all his family and friends come through. And then, when just about every Packers employee except the janitors had left, you could talk to him about almost anything you wanted.

One time I talked to him about the orange and camouflaged and animal-skin-covered fans in Lambeau during yet another deer-season game.

Favre waxed on about how he had looked out his window at the team motel early that morning and had seen a nice-sized buck not far away -- and how it had stirred the country hunter in him.

''Boy, I wanted to be out in a deer stand,'' he said wistfully.

People love Favre for the troubles he has seen -- the family deaths and illnesses and his own addictions and his gridiron wounds that one time had him coughing up blood before throwing a touchdown pass.

They admire him most of all for overcoming those hurts, for moving on, for refinding his joy of the game -- and, thus, life -- time and time again.

How could you boo Brett Favre, with actual malice, and mean it?

You couldn't.

Reckless but brilliant

The Bears played against Favre so many times that 21 quarterbacks started at various times in the years that Favre calmly sat at the throttles for the Pack, yielding the keys to no one.

From Kramer, Krieg and Krenzel to Moreno, McNown, Matthews, Miller, blah, blah and blah.

And Favre.

Is there a critic anywhere who doesn't salute such resilience, such constancy in this stupidly changing world?

Favre became something symbolic to everyone -- kid brother, gunslinger, genius, wild man, father, statesman, saint.

That he is going out at close to the peak of his game, even at 38, separates him from virtually every legendary athlete who has preceded him -- Muhammad Ali, Willie Mays, Michael Jordan, etc.

But always it comes back to that irrepressible joy of the game and the way it was manifested in Favre's life as part brilliance, part recklessness, all-encompassing.

It's a fact that Favre's attempts to do what couldn't be done nearly unhinged early coach Mike Holmgren.

And yet Holmgren ended up laughing with Favre as much as cursing him.



There was that playoff game in Detroit in 1994, and Favre, who had thrown 25 interceptions for the season, needed to lead the Packers from a 24-21 deficit with a minute to play. He already had thrown a third-quarter interception that Lions cornerback Melvin Jenkins had returned for a touchdown. Why not one more?

So as Favre rolled left and, under pressure, started to throw a simple dump pass to tight end Ed West, it seemed reasonable.

Then he stopped and let fly with a cross-field heave to streaking wide receiver Sterling Sharpe, who was uncovered because (a) nobody could throw the ball that far and (b) nobody would try to throw the ball that far.

Sixty yards in the air, at least.

Touchdown. Packers win.

''I told myself, there's gotta be something better,'' Favre said to us with a grin after the game. ''That's my problem. Sometimes there's not something better.''

Here's hoping all his retired days are nothing but good.

Clock runs out

Retirement surprises Packers, fans

By TOM SILVERSTEIN
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
tsilverstein@journalsentinel.com
Posted: March 4, 2008



Green Bay - Everyone figured it had to come to an end someday.

Yet Sunday after Sunday, season after season, fans woke up and Brett Favre was still quarterback of the Green Bay Packers. Over a 16-year period he wove himself into the fabric of this state like no other athlete, and for the 5,867 days since his arrival Feb. 10, 1992, there was rarely any doubt where he would be on opening day.

Children grew into adults, adults watched their hair turn gray, yet Brett Favre remained the quarterback.

Until Tuesday. . . .

The day when the streak ended. And just like that, Favre's time expired.

The Packers announced that the most popular player to wear a Green Bay uniform and one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time announced he was retiring after 17 seasons in the National Football League.

The announcement came 44 days after Favre's interception in overtime led to the winning points in the Packers' gut-wrenching, 23-20 overtime loss to the New York Giants in the NFC championship game. In the time that followed, Green Bay coach Mike McCarthy reached out to Favre once a week or so to help him talk out his concerns about the future and see which way he was leaning.

It was a similar process to last off-season, but McCarthy knew something was different Thursday night when Favre used the word retirement for the first time. McCarthy still thought the 38-year-old future Hall of Famer was going to come back, but while attending his daughter's high school basketball team banquet in Austin, Texas, his cell phone rang.

Favre was on the other end, and his news wasn't good.

"I had to remove myself from where I was standing because I was taken aback," McCarthy said.

This time around, Favre wasn't coming back.

After taking time to relax at his home in Hattiesburg, Miss., he decided he did not have the will to go on. In a voice mail message sent to ESPN's Chris Mortensen, Favre said he didn't have the energy to put in the work necessary to play another season.

"I know I can still play, but it's like I told my wife (Deanna), I'm just tired mentally," Favre said. "I'm just tired."

The message to Mortensen was Favre's only comment on the record on Tuesday, and in it he did not mention when he intended to address the media and the Green Bay fans on his retirement.

Apparently, it was truly the first time in his entire Packers career that he felt he couldn't go on. After 275 consecutive regular-season and post-season starts, the most of any quarterback in NFL history and 102 ahead of second-place holder Peyton Manning of the Indianapolis Colts, Favre won't be answering the bell anymore.



'That will be it'

"I often think about the perfect ending, and I think it will be just like the movie 'Forrest Gump' when Forrest is always running down the road and then one day he all of a sudden stops," longtime Packers trainer Pepper Burruss once said. "When Brett quits having fun, he'll stop. He'll throw a touchdown pass and then he'll walk off the field right through the tunnel, and that will be it."

It almost happened that way.

Favre was one bad pass and one or two good ones away from playing in his third Super Bowl. Guiding the youngest team in the NFL on the field, Favre teamed with McCarthy to bring the Packers back to the brink of greatness. And while doing it, he punctuated his Hall of Fame career by becoming the all-time record holder in three more passing categories, giving him claim to every significant quarterback milestone in NFL history, including the all-time interception mark.

After the loss to the Giants, Favre had his usual end-of-the-season meeting with McCarthy and general manager Ted Thompson and was told to go home and take some time to think about whether he wanted to return. Publicly, both McCarthy and Thompson expressed their desire for Favre to return.

But to some of those around Favre, there was an underlying feeling that the Packers weren't that interested in bringing him back and didn't feel it necessary to do anything special to urge him to continue. The general feeling among those friends, relatives and colleagues was that Thompson did not do enough to convince Favre it was worth giving it one more try.

"I know he wants to play one more year," his longtime agent and close friend, James (Bus) Cook, told the Journal Sentinel shortly after Favre's intentions became known publicly. "I do not know how much conversation there was (between Favre and the Packers) and I don't think anyone forced him to make that decision. But I don't know that anyone tried to talk him out of it."

In an interview with WTMJ-TV (Channel 4), Favre's brother, Scott, expressed similar sentiments, saying Thompson could have done more to "let Brett know how much they needed him, or what they were going to do, or ask him questions on what he thought about what they can do. I don't think they communicated enough."

For his part, Thompson said he and McCarthy followed the same plan they did a year ago, when Favre was contemplating a return after an 8-8 season. He said he didn't think it was up to him or McCarthy to try to make Favre do something he wasn't up for doing himself. He insisted that through a long discussion with Favre on Tuesday morning, Favre was at peace with his decision and wasn't angry that Thompson hadn't done more to encourage him to stay.

"This decision was a complicated decision," Thompson said. "It's not as simple as even I might think it is. Do you want to play or don't want to play? It's more complicated than that. There are other factors that weigh into his decision-making process."

Unlike two years ago, when Favre left Lambeau Field waving to cheering fans who chanted "One more year," the suddenness of defeat to the eventual Super Bowl champion Giants left him and many Packers fans stunned. Favre did leave through that tunnel Burruss talked about, but certainly not the way he intended.



During a Super Bowl week visit to Phoenix, the site of Super Bowl XLII, Favre appeared in good spirits while picking up an award for his performance in 2007. In a short address to the media, he said that in no way would he allow the interception against the Giants to affect his decision on whether to retire. He said it was important for him to base his decision on how much energy he had left and his willingness to put in the training that it would take for him to be effective at 39 years old.

Even two years after the fact, Favre's words regarding his 4-12 season in '05 could be applied today.

"I've had so many people say, 'Well, you can't go out that way. You've got to come back and redeem yourself and redeem this team's season,' " Favre said. "But in all honesty, if this is it, I have gone out on top. I mean, I really have.

"One season does not define me, no matter how good or bad it is."

Even before this season, Favre hasn't been surrounded by a consistently high number of Pro Bowl players, but he always managed to raise the level of play of those on his team. And he did it by consistently being in the lineup and playing with the passion and unbridled enthusiasm of a rookie who doesn't know any better.

Love him for his touchdowns, hate him for his interceptions, but always appreciate him for making the game fun.

And remember him for what he did for the Green Bay Packers.

"I don't think there's any doubt he will go down as the greatest player in the history of this wonderful organization," former team President Bob Harlan said. "And his accomplishments for the Packers will be treasured forever. I always said I thought it was such an honor to see him play. We're all going to look back someday and say how fortunate we were to see Brett Favre. And the last time he went down the tunnel it would be a sad day for the Green Bay Packers."

As for his standing among the greatest quarterbacks of all time, Favre will be firmly in the debate. And as an ambassador of professional football, there might not have been many better. He earned roughly $101 million playing 17 seasons, but he often looked like he was playing just for the fun of it.

"Brett's talent, enthusiasm and love of the game helped him become the only player to earn three MVP awards, and he was a vital part of bringing a Super Bowl championship back to Green Bay," NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell said. "It has been a joy and privilege for all of us to watch him play."



Rebuilding Titletown

Much has been and will be written about the impact general manager Ron Wolf and former coach Mike Holmgren had on the Packers after coming together in 1992 to revive the fabled organization.

Twenty years of losing had made Green Bay an arctic outpost from where there seemed no escape. Before Wolf dealt a first-round pick to the Atlanta Falcons for a third-string quarterback named Favre, the Packers had finished with a winning season three times from 1973 to '91.

When history is written, they'll say it was Favre who turned it all around.

Wolf surrounded Favre with quality teammates and Holmgren harnessed the talents of the wild stallion, but Favre is the one who re-energized the organization and its many fans. He, more than anyone else, was responsible for the Packers' recapturing the glory of their past.

"When I got there, this was the worst team in professional football," Wolf said. "When I left, it had the second-best won-lost record in the NFL, and two years later it had the best won-lost record in the NFL and still does since 1992 when Brett Favre took over.

"That's his accomplishment, and no one thought that would happen in Green Bay, Wisconsin."

Brett Favre retires at or near the top of the National Football League in almost every passing record and is a certain first-ballot Hall of Famer.

This past season, he broke John Elway's record of 149 career victories, Dan Marino's record of 420 touchdown passes, and Marino's record of 61,361 passing yards.

Favre finished his career with 442 touchdown passes, 61,655 passing yards and 160 victories.

He also leaves holding NFL records in attempts (8,758), completions (5,377), interceptions (288), most consecutive seasons completing 300 or more passes (16), most consecutive seasons with 3,000 yards passing (16), and most consecutive seasons of 20 or more touchdown passes (12).



The record he'll be most remembered for is the one that most embodies his status as one of the true competitors in the game. In 16 years with the Packers, Favre never missed a start.

He made his first start against the Pittsburgh Steelers on Sept. 27, 1992, and proceeded to go 253 regular-season games (plus 22 post-season games) without missing a start. He broke the previous consecutive games streak for quarterbacks held by Philadelphia's Ron Jaworski (116) in 1999 and raised the bar for durability to such a level that it could be decades before his record is broken.

"What he has is extreme toughness, which comes first when you're evaluating a quarterback," former Washington coach Joe Gibbs once said. "A lot of people are surprised when I say that. But the most important thing for a quarterback is to be mentally tough, because they get the crap kicked out of them and they can't defend themselves.

"That's what he has first and foremost."

During a 16-year span, Favre has been injured and unable to finish a game only seven times, the last against the Dallas Cowboys on Nov. 29 when he was struck in the right elbow by the helmet of blitzing cornerback Nathan Jones. The percentage of plays he has missed during his career as a starter is minuscule.

And it's not like he hasn't been hurt. There was the elbow last year, ankle surgery after the '06 season, the broken thumb in 2003, the sprained lateral collateral ligament in his left knee in '02, the elbow tendinitis and mid-foot sprain in '00, the sprained thumb and sore shoulder in '99, turf toe in '98 and '97, a severely sprained ankle in '95 and a bad hip bruise and abdominal pain in '94.

Favre has been dealing with pain for a long time, and what makes his streak so impressive is that he hasn't been simply holding down a position in the lineup. At age 38, he completed 356 of 535 passes for 4,155 yards and 28 touchdowns with 15 interceptions. He tied for the most victories he has had in a season (13) and surpassed his previous mark for completion percentage, hitting 66.5% of his passes. His yardage and passer rating (95.7) were the third highest marks of his career.

In the NFL, he ranked sixth in the league in passer rating, fourth in completions, completion percentage and yards, and tied for sixth in touchdowns. He was chosen for the Pro Bowl for the ninth time (including once as an alternate) this past season.

"In my opinion, I think he could have played again at the level that he just played this past season," McCarthy said. "The film reflects that. The statistics reflect that. I thought he played at a very high level this year and definitely had a lot left in his tank."



Highs and lows

Prior to last season, he hadn't been as dominant as during the three-year span from 1995 to '97, when he threw 112 touchdown passes and won the league's MVP award each season, becoming the first player to win it three times in a row. Those were the salad days when Favre and the Packers ruled the NFC, playing in three consecutive NFC Championship games, advancing to two Super Bowls and winning it all at the end of the 1996 season.

As Favre grew both as a quarterback and as a man, the Packers' fans were with him every step.

They treated him as if he were a god as he led the Packers back to greatness, and they scolded him for living an unsavory lifestyle as he did it. They celebrated his greatness and applauded his transformation into a responsible leader of the football team, watching him submit to the power of addiction and spend time in a drug rehabilitation center in 1996.

And they paused as he went through a series of trying personal moments that would have brought a weaker man to his knees. And they watched as he played on. And on and on and on.

Four days before Christmas 2003, Favre's father, Irvin, who coached his son in high school, died of a heart attack. The next day Favre threw for 399 yards and four touchdowns against the Oakland Raiders in a nationally televised Monday night game.

Then midway through the next season, his brother-in-law died in an all-terrain vehicle accident on Favre's property in Hattiesburg, Miss. And yet he played on. And when a week later his wife, Deanna, was diagnosed with breast cancer, he played on. He cut his hair short in support of his wife as she went through chemotherapy and, along with Deanna, helped raise money for cancer patients with less financial resources than they had.

Then in 2005, the home he grew up in was leveled by Hurricane Katrina, and his home in Hattiesburg became a refuge for displaced family members. Last summer, Deanna's stepfather, who had become close with Favre, died of a heart attack at the quarterback's property in Hattiesburg.

"I consider myself as mentally tough as anybody, but at times like (that) I question it," Favre said. "Things like this are humbling. Sometimes we think that the only thing is our job, and then you get blindsided and wake up. It's not fun."

Through all the trials and tribulations, he always had football to fall back on. It was a labor of love.

Favre often described the football field as a sanctuary where he didn't have to worry about all the problems that plagued him. He often spoke of retreating to his home and spending the rest of his days riding his tractor, but the allure of the game always drew him back.

He got his starting job in 1992 when Don Majkowski injured his ankle against the Cincinnati Bengals, and Favre never looked back. However, the memory of how he got his job always remained fresh in his mind, and part of the reason he took all the snaps during practice and refused to let injury sideline him was the ridiculous notion that he might lose his job.

Favre might have been the most insecure three-time MVP the league has ever seen.

"I always remembered I got my job because Don got hurt," Favre once said. "I never forgot that. You're only a play away from either playing or not playing. So many guys who lost their jobs figured, 'I'll be right back in there when I'm healthy' and they never played again.

"I didn't want to give someone else a chance."



Shaped by Holmgren

Favre's rise to prominence didn't come without growing pains.

In the early days, Holmgren confined Favre to the outline of the West Coast offense and refused to let him revert to his schoolyard ways. Every day was a lesson in patience and discipline.

Holmgren demanded perfection, and Favre sought creativity. When Favre didn't comply, he usually wound up at the other end of a Holmgren tirade.

"I knew that I probably deserved a good chewing out, but I didn't particularly like it," Favre said. "So one way or another, maybe subconsciously, I would do something to make him even madder. He'd tell me, 'Whatever you do, don't scramble out of the pocket,' and I'd say, 'No problem.' What's the first thing I would do? I'd scramble out of the pocket. If it worked, I'd be the first one to say, 'Now see.' And he'd just 'Mmmph.' When it wouldn't work (Holmgren said) 'I want to see you,' and I knew what was coming."

In the end, they were perfect for each other and they both got what they wanted. After Holmgren left, Favre continued to win games. There were only two nonwinning seasons in his 16 campaigns as the Packers' starting quarterback. There were monumental misplays during those years, interceptions fans couldn't forgive. But there were never any regrets when he left the field.

And now that it's over, the Packers will have to move on with Aaron Rodgers - or some other poor soul - who must live in Favre's shadow.

The great quarterback's legacy will live on.

But his career is finally over.

Peter King: Mentally drained

Another season probably wasn't worth grind for Favre
SI.com
Posted: Tuesday March 4, 2008 12:49PM; Updated: Tuesday March 4, 2008 3:51PM



BISHKEK, Kyrgyzstan -- When the news of Brett Favre's retirement broke halfway around the world, NFL defensive linemen Mike Rucker and Luis Castillo -- on a USO/NFL Tour to pump up the troops here and in Afghanistan -- stood huddled around a computer in the back of a pub on an U.S. Air Force Base. It was Karaoke Night, but they weren't interested in music. They had their eyes fixed to a Biloxi Sun Herald story reporting legendary Packers quarterback Brett Favre would retire after his storied 17-year career.

"Wow! I love the dude,'' said Rucker, the veteran Carolina Panther end, when he had digested the story. "Over the last few years, it's obviously been on his mind. It must be that he's tired, mentally and physically, and the game has worn on him. What I'll always love and appreciate about him is that he was a gunslinger who didn't change his game to appease his critics. I just got his autograph on a jersey last year, and that thing will go in a frame in my house and I'll treasure it forever. You talk about security -- that jersey will have security like the Mona Lisa has around it.''

Said San Diego's Castillo: "It's sad, but I will always cherish the one chance I had to play him this year at Lambeau Field. As crushed as we were to lose it, it's a thrill to have played in a game that he won in the last minute. I remember preparing for the game thinking what an honor and privilege it was to be playing him. And then it turned out to be a great game, all the way down to the end. What a competitor. It's as good as competition gets.''

This was as surreal a scene as it gets, 12 time zones away from Green Bay, with an airman warbling Raspberry Beret by Prince in the background, and Chicago Bears defensive tackle Tommie Harris, the third player on the USO tour, waiting to imitate Johnny Gill. But the moment the news broke, the players and some Packer fans stationed here gathered around the computer and looked stunned.

At this moment, Bishkek was Ashwaubenon and Oshkosh and Wausau, only not quite as teary, presumably. But just as eye-poppingly surprised. Everyone knew the 38-year-old Favre would retire soon, but after how well he played last season, most of those I talked to here thought he'd delay it at least one more year.

As a Favrophile over the years, I'll relate one story from late last season that I think says much about why Favre made the choice he made this week. Two nights before the Packers played Seattle in a playoff game, I was in Favre's home and the doorbell rang. News had broken that day that Favre had decided to come back for the 2008 season, but he denied that to me, and told everyone that all he said was that he was enjoying the game and his team this year. He hadn't determined his fate for 2008 and wouldn't until sometime after the season.

But now, a Green Bay TV station was at the door asking for comment on the story, and Favre's wife, Deanna, politely shooed them away. The look on Favre's face said: Does it never end? Take me at my word -- I will decide my future in the future, not now.



That, I believe, was at the heart of this decision. Favre still loves the game and knows he can play at a top-NFL level. But at the end of the day, he also knows if he had signed up for another year, he would have signed up to be the titular head of the Packers from late July 'til the bitter winter, with all eyes on him during every practice and every walkthrough, and his words in all press conferences being closely analyzed. I think he'd rather edge his 465 acres in Hattiesburg, Miss., and worry about how to contain the runaway beaver population than to have the bright lights on him, even in a small town like Green Bay, for five months a year.

Favre loved being just a guy. But it was next to impossible for the all-time touchdown leader and passing-yardage leader to be that. Putting the records far out of reach for the next generation of great passers -- led by Peyton Manning -- held no interest for him. Taking another shot at a Super Bowl held some interest for him, and that's why I believe he agonized over the decision in recent weeks. But another five-month grind to get to January, in his opinion, obviously wasn't worth what he'd have to go through along the way.

That didn't make it any easier to swallow for Packer Nation, even for those halfway around the world.

"My God,'' said Air Force Airman First Class Lyle Tonnon Jr., of Chicago, an avowed Packer fan despite his home zip code. "My legs are weak.''

"Dude, I'm shaking,'' countered Air Force Sgt. Brian Caliba.

"I want to cry,'' Tonnon said. "I just heard, and when I did, I put my head down on the pool table. I'm saying, 'No! No!' It's a shock. But I do know this: Wherever I'm stationed, when he goes in the Hall of Fame, I promise you I'll take leave and be there for his induction. He was the toughest SOB at the quarterback position, ever.''

When Harris, who sacked him twice playing in the spirited Bear-Packer rivalry over the years, was done singing, he said he wasn't surprised. "I thought he might come back, but I'm not surprised,'' he said. "I respect him even more as a person right now than I ever have, because he made a decision that's good for him and for his family.''

I asked Harris what he'd remember about competing against Favre.

"As a competitor?'' he said. "There was no one like Brett Favre. I remember playing him once and seeing him jump in his offensive linemen's faces. He just wanted everyone always to be their best. He's the competitor I always want to be, the kind of competitor I want to show my teammates every game.''

Glory Days: Springsteen doesn't disappoint

By Graham Rockingham
The Hamilton (Ontario) Spectator
(Mar 4, 2008)



The Big Guy on sax may be getting a tad frail and it's hard to look at Little Steven without seeing his Sopranos' mobster TV persona, but the The Boss is still The Boss.

Bruce Springsteen is a lot easier on the furniture. He doesn't climb up the speaker columns anymore (because there aren't any) and he keeps his feet off those high-price keyboards. As a matter of fact, at 58, he does a lot more walking than running these days.

But it doesn't matter.

Last night he put on one of the better rock 'n' roll shows this town, or any other for that matter, will see in a long long time.

I haven't had the good fortune of being in the audience for a Springsteen/E Street Band performance in more than 20 years. Back in those days the shows easily ran more than three hours, sometimes four, with a setlist of about 25 songs. The audience left almost as exhausted as the Boss himself.

Last night's show attended by some 17,500 fans at Copps Coliseum ran about two-and-a-half hours, but he still managed to cram almost 25 songs into it. The difference is less banter, some trimmed solos and no intermission. Tighter. More compact. Brilliant. Garage rock at its finest.

Springsteen managed to run through the entire show without a break ... right into the incredible multi-song encore that featured the relatively rare and killer classic Kitty's Back (from The Wild, The Innocent And the E Street Shuffle), plus the nostalgic Thunder Road.

But I digress. As old as The Boss (and his fans) may be, this wasn't some nostalgia show. Springsteen performed some seven tracks from the new CD, Magic, that easily stands up to the classics. Living In The Future, Long Walk Home, Last To Die and Devil's Arcade were all loaded into the back end of the show, sitting strongly next to well-established show stoppers like The Rising and Badlands.

We got also got plenty of fan favourites like She's The One, Born To Run, Dancing In The Dark, Promised Land, Thunder Road and Because The Night.



This is street poetry as good as anything pop culture offers. But what makes it truly special is a work ethic that surpasses anything else in the world of rock.

The fans paid more than $100 for a ticket and Springsteen made sure they got their money's worth, and more.

Nonetheless, there are some creaky spots.

Sax player Clarence Clemons -- lovingly known as The Big Guy -- is probably the best known of the E Street gang next to The Boss himself. He can still blow the pipes as he proved several times last night. At 66, however, you've got to wonder how much longer he can keep up with Springsteen's pace -- even with that big comfy take-a-break chair behind him.

Little Steven Van Zandt's guitar has long played second fiddle to those of Nils Lofgren and Springsteen. And fans of The Sopranos know that Van Zandt isn't that "little" anymore. Still it's nice to have the rocker-turned-mob-actor along for the ride. It wouldn't be the same without his kerchiefed head.

The E Street Band was missing two regulars last night. Springsteen's wife Patti Scialfa was absent for her third straight show. And that's understandable, it's hard to run a family with both parents on the road. Besides, I'm not sure if I really wanted to see her perform one of her solo songs. We came for Bruce, right?

Otherwise, organist Danny Federici is still off receiving treatment for melanoma although Springsteen said he expects him to return later in the tour.

Federici has been replaced by Charles Giordano, who worked with Springsteen on the Seeger Sessions record and tour. Springsteen has still got a lot of rock 'n' roll in him and this E-Street tour looks like it'll be stretching through the summer.

That's great news because, let's face it, it's hard to imagine this band getting together for another record and tour.

Can Clemons keep this up into his seventies?

grockingham@thespec.com

or 905-526-3331



Setlist:
No Surrender
Radio Nowhere
Lonesome Day
Gypsy Biker
Magic
Reason to Believe
Because the Night
She's the One
Livin' in the Future
The Promised Land
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
Darkness on the Edge of Town
The River
Devil's Arcade
The Rising
Last to Die
Long Walk Home
Badlands
* * *
Girls in Their Summer Clothes
Thunder Road
Kitty's Back
Born to Run
Dancing in the Dark
American Land

Today's Tune: Jay Farrar & Kelly Willis - Rex's Blues

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Matthew Milliner: Crazy for God

Here's an interesting spin on Mr. Schaeffer's book...a bit different from my own but interesting nonetheless. My opinion of Mr. & Mrs. Crouch and their ministry is considerably less charitable than that of the author. - jtf

http://www.firstthings.com/

March 3, 2008

Someone must have arranged this. It’s as if Frank Schaeffer’s book Crazy for God was designed to come out in tandem with Jody Bottum’s essay “The Judgment of Memory” in the March issue of First Things. It’s as if Crazy for God were published merely to illustrate all the pitfalls pointed out in Bottum’s essay. (Have the two been conspiring?) Bottum writes that “the last thing we need from writers is another simple and sincere account of their own lives,” but Crazy for God gives us one more. Bottum tells us that there remains a place in the genre of memoir “for reticence, and secrets swallowed,” but Crazy for God just spits it all up. Bottum writes:

The death of parents leaves their honor in their children’s hands, and the cruel accuracies we might fling in anger against them while they are alive seem even more wrong to sue against them once they are gone.

Frank saw fit to read directly from the graphically explicit string of hate mail he had received from “the right” when he defected. He thought it humorous to connect one profanity-laced hate-mail letter with the next letter that disapproved of profanity. After some tips on how to write your own memoir (don’t be put off by those who say it’s self-indulgent), Frank laid out his faith/politics dichotomy. “It’s like fiction/nonfiction, you see.” Schaeffer was quick to attach a weak disclaimer—it’s not that he’s saying faith isn’t true, it’s just in a different realm. The “faith” realm, we learned, is the realm of artists and writers and the Met museum. The realm of politics is for policy people, law, and folks who don’t care about the Met Museum. Then came the first of nearly ten Obama panegyrics.

Following what seems like a nationwide procession of sophisticated evangelicals into the Church of the Holy Question Mark, Frank tells us that, in a nutshell, the shift from his fundamentalist days is that he now knows how to say “I could be wrong” after everything. No doubt there is much Frank is wrong about; but, just to be safe, Frank—who has now converted to Eastern Orthodoxy—might consider petitioning Patriarch Bartholomew, archbishop of Constantinople, to append “I could be wrong” to the end of the Nicene Creed.

The first audience question involved someone accusing Frank of being contemptuous of the movement and his parents, of lambasting them in the same kind of fundamentalist tone that Frank deplored. Frank responded that his tone is justified by the “criminal element” of evangelicalism. Pressed, he reasserts. “The literal criminal element because they claim to be nonprofits. They’re as nonprofit as Exxon is.” As if we didn’t get the point, he adds that the movement he has forsaken is “hard-core pornography for faith.” The only smart ones, we learn, were C.S. Lewis and Frank’s father, who, if Frank is to be believed, wasn’t as smart as he was driven “crazy for God.”

For the untruths of Frank’s account, again, one best go to Os Guinness. But I’d like to illustrate the sadness of Frank Schaeffer’s current posture by fighting fire with fire—that is, by writing a self-indulgent memoir. Mine, however, will be much briefer, and will regard not my childhood, but last weekend.

It was an academic conference in Dallas, a first trip to Texas for myself, a native northeasterner. As I zoomed from the airport in my rented Chevy, the colossal lone-star flags, highways named after George Bush, and the chintzy yet imperial whitewashed megachurches invited me, as if into an exotic, forbidden land. As I neared Dallas, an aura of urbanity took over, and I was more at home. But on the way back to the airport—just outside the Dallas sophistication circumference—there it all was again. Though I had a flight to catch, I couldn’t resist the urge to pull off the highway, my aim being to capture a photo of the megachurch—a fitting illustration of bad architecture. I glided off the exit ramp into the acres of asphalt parking lot, empty at the time, and a lone man gave me a friendly wave. I passed him and looked closer at the church sign. In a flash I realized my good fortune. I had come across nothing less than the studio and worship center of the Trinity Broadcasting Network. My heart leapt with ironic delight.


Evangelists Paul and Jan Crouch head up Trinity Broadcasting Network

This was possibly the gaudiest example of American Christianity in existence, and I was here to see it. As TBN piped into the free cable in the dorms of Princeton Theological Seminary, I had spent years mocking it, as had most of the students. TBN was everything we were learning not to be. I actually called a seminary friend to tell him where I was, and we cackled with laughter. This was the domain of the legendary television preacher’s wife, that woman with the pile of purple hair.

Next to the TBN church was a prototype of the “Family Christian” store chain, a store on which I had once, years ago, seen a sign reading, “Bible Man appearance cancelled due to injury.” On the other side was a prefab neo-classical building with “Happy Birthday Jesus” still (it was nearly March) strung up in lights. A “virtual reality” tour of the television studio was advertised in front of an inexcusably awful statue. It was a photographic jackpot; like a shark circling its prey, I ringed the lot for the right angle. Then I saw it. The perfect shot would be one that showed the Toys ’R’ Us sign across the highway just under the Trinity Broadcasting Network Sign. How deliciously subversive. I was so excited about this picture that, exiting my car and running to get the right angle, I slipped and fell. I got up to take the shot, but my camera batteries had run out. I panicked. I leapt into the car to rush to a convenience store (I still had the flight to catch), but I had left my cell phone on the roof. I remembered just before it fell off.

At a stoplight on the way to the store that I never found, I looked up to a congress of ravens, so thick they seemed to blanket the telephone poles, and there the realization came. I had literally fallen over myself to make fun of a branch of Christianity that—I knew from personal experience—could transform lives. Yes, only an insider can know the ugly secrets of American evangelicalism. But what’s more, and what made mine more of betrayal, is that only an insider can know how much of it is undeniably good, sometimes even mystically so. I was such an insider, and rather than cherish and protect my memory of evangelicalism, I was willing to portray it in the worst possible light for the some laughs.

I thought about how I must have looked to the cars passing on the highway, or to the lone man who—not realizing I was here to mock his church—gave me that wave. Some guy from New Jersey, after erratically circling a parking lot, leapt out of his car, scampered, slipped, fell, got up, and then drove off with his cell phone on the roof of a compact Chevy. Others came there to serve God, but I was serving my generation’s idol: irony. A pile of purple hair was a respectable alternative to the sight of me.

Matthew J. Milliner is a Ph.D. candidate at Princeton University.

He blogs at millinerd.com.

References:

Crazy for God by Frank Schaeffer

“The Judgment of Memory” by Joseph Bottum (subscription required)

Os Guinness on Crazy for God

Ignatius’ Ninth Rule of Spiritual Discernment

Cool News About Global Warming

By Bill Steigerwald
Pittsburgh Tribune-Review
Sunday, March 2, 2008

You've no doubt seen the stories about strange snowfalls in Saudi Arabia. A brutal winter in China. The heaviest snow cover in North America, Siberia and elsewhere since 1966.

And if you are a vigilant observer of the global warming debate, you know how inconveniently cold it is in the Arctic this winter for Al Gore and his army of climate alarmists.

But how cold is it, Johnny?

Well, NASA says recent satellite images show that the allegedly endangered polar ice cap -- which will melt completely one of these summers and kill off all the polar bears if we don't slash our greedy carbon footprints and revert to the lifestyles of medieval peasants -- has recovered to near normal coverage levels.

That's what Josefino Comiso, a senior research scientist with the Cryospheric Sciences Branch of NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland, told Canada's CBC News -- the Canadian government's version of NPR/PBS - on Feb. 12.

As far as Google's search engine knows, Comiso's comforting report has appeared nowhere but in Canada.

There's even better news for polar ice-pack lovers from ice expert Gilles Langis, who says Arctic ice is now even thicker than usual in spots. A senior ice forecaster with the Canadian Ice Service in Ottawa, he's another scientist you shouldn't expect to see talking to Anderson Cooper on the next episode of CNN's "Galaxy in Peril."

Meanwhile, in other news too climatically incorrect for U.S. mainstream media to touch, California meteorologist Anthony Watts says January 2008 was the planet's second-coldest January in 15 years.

Even more shocking, the average temperature of Earth dropped significantly from January 2007 to January 2008. As Watts explains on his Web site wattsupwiththat.wordpress.com, he determined the lower figure by crunching data from four major public and private global tracking sources.

You may remember Watts from last summer. He popped up in this paper and on Fox News because of his self-funded project to quality-check 1,221 ground weather stations around the country that are used by NASA to measure the "official" average annual temperature of the United States.

So far, Watts and his volunteers have checked out more than 500 weather stations (none in Western Pennsylvania) to see if their temperature data can be considered credible. As he details on his other Web site, weatherstation.org, nearly 70 percent of the sites fail to meet the government's own standards because they are not 100 feet from a building, are on blazing rooftops, sit next to air-conditioner exhaust fans, etc.

Watts was shocked and surprised to find such unequivocal proof that Earth's temperature has cooled in the last year, he said to me Wednesday. But he's very cautious about what it means in either the short or long run.

Calling it a "fluctuation" and "a large anomaly" compared to the 30-year running temperature average that climatologists use, he emphasized that the cold spell is "no indication that global warming is over" but does "illustrate that the driving mechanisms behind our planet's climate are still very much in control of changing the climate and that the planet's not in the death grip of CO2 just yet."

A careful, honest man of science, all Watts would say for sure was that his findings and all the strange cold-weather events of this winter prove only one thing so far -- that "Mother Nature is still in control of things, not us."

Bill Steigerwald is the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review's associate editor. Call him at (412) 320-7983. E-mail him at: bsteigerwald@tribweb.com.

The Boss charms his audience

Springsteen turns it on. Rocker brings crowd to its feet at Bell Centre show last night as he led an enthusiastic celebration of a musical career that has spanned 35 years

T'CHA DUNLEVY, The Montreal Gazette
Published: 5 hours ago

"Is there anybody alive out there?"

These words, among Bruce Springsteen's first of the evening, summarized his search for meaning, not to mention a human pulse, on his new album Magic.

The Boss played a hefty eight songs from the disc last night, accompanied by his infamous E Street Band, before almost 16,000 fans at the Bell Centre. Absent were his wife Patti Scialfa, at home with the kids, and keyboardist Danny Federici, undergoing treatment for melanoma.

Add a few songs from his 2002 release The Rising, and you've got half the set list. In other words, Springsteen is not one to rest on his laurels.

He has built a career on commenting on his surroundings, the lot of the common folk and, always, his country.

So after opening with an energized rendition of The Night, he tuned into the exciting Radio Nowhere - the first song off the new album, from whence the lyric quoted at the top of this review. "Dancin' down a dark hole," he sang - as opposed to Dancing in the Dark, which would come in the encore.

"Seven years of magic tricks," he stated shortly after, before leading into the new record's somber title track, sung with his eyes closed, his musicians keeping things respectfully quiet.

"Trust none of what you hear," he whispered, "and less of what you see/this is what will be."

But it was not all doomsday prophesies.

Six songs in, he gave Reason to Believe, off his 1982 album Nebraska.

A hearty singalong erupted on Because the Night.


Bruce Springsteen (right) performs with drummer Max Weinberg, saxophone player Clarence Clemons and the rest of the E Street Band at the Bell Centre in Montreal Sunday, March 2, 2008. (THE GAZETTE/John Kenney)

Next, Clarence Clemons stepped to centre stage for one of his trademark sax solos, with guitarist Nils Lofgren answering in kind. Then came one more oldie, She's the One, before Springsteen returned to the matter at hand.

"This is a song called Living in the Future," he said. "It's about what's happening now."

Illegal wire-tapping and the wiping-away of civil liberties were mentioned - "They're sneaking through changes we thought would never happen but we have lived to see. And the mighty E Street Band is here to do something about it. We're here to sing - we're musicians. Do you feel the new wind coming?"

Springsteen sang to all corners of the room during the swinging ditty, leading the crowd in the ironic "Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na" chorus.

He allowed a few classics to enter the fray.

Hushed hymn The River was a mid-show standout, with the crowd taking over his verses, and his harmonica crying heartache.

The set-ending Badlands offered essential release.

The audience rose to its feet, singing, dancing and celebrating a favourite - which is what you'd expect to be doing all night at a concert by an artist whose discography goes back 35 years.

That so many people were willing to come out and hear Springsteen sing his concerns for the here and now speaks volumes.

Returning the favour, he dropped Born to Run and Dancing in the Dark in the home stretch.

By which point, everyone was feeling very alive, thanks. And good night.

tdunlevy@thegazette.canwest.com



Setlist:
Night
Radio Nowhere
Lonesome Day
Gypsy Biker
Magic
Reason to Believe
Because the Night
She's the One
Livin' in the Future
The Promised Land
Waitin' on a Sunny Day
Darkness on the Edge of Town
The River
Devil's Arcade
The Rising
Last to Die
Long Walk Home
Badlands
* * *
Girls in Their Summer Clothes
Jungleland
Born to Run
Dancing in the Dark

Worshippers of Death

By ALAN M. DERSHOWITZ
The Wall Street Journal
March 3, 2008; Page A17

Zahra Maladan is an educated woman who edits a women's magazine in Lebanon. She is also a mother, who undoubtedly loves her son. She has ambitions for him, but they are different from those of most mothers in the West. She wants her son to become a suicide bomber.

At the recent funeral for the assassinated Hezbollah terrorist Imad Moughnaya -- the mass murderer responsible for killing 241 marines in 1983 and more than 100 women, children and men in Buenos Aires in 1992 and 1994 -- Ms. Maladan was quoted in the New York Times giving the following warning to her son: "if you're not going to follow the steps of the Islamic resistance martyrs, then I don't want you."



Zahra Maladan represents a dramatic shift in the way we must fight to protect our citizens against enemies who are sworn to kill them by killing themselves. The traditional paradigm was that mothers who love their children want them to live in peace, marry and produce grandchildren. Women in general, and mothers in particular, were seen as a counterweight to male belligerence. The picture of the mother weeping as her son is led off to battle -- even a just battle -- has been a constant and powerful image.

Now there is a new image of mothers urging their children to die, and then celebrating the martyrdom of their suicidal sons and daughters by distributing sweets and singing wedding songs. More and more young women -- some married with infant children -- are strapping bombs to their (sometimes pregnant) bellies, because they have been taught to love death rather than life. Look at what is being preached by some influential Islamic leaders:

"We are going to win, because they love life and we love death," said Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of Hezbollah. He has also said: "[E]ach of us lives his days and nights hoping more than anything to be killed for the sake of Allah." Shortly after 9/11, Osama bin Laden told a reporter: "We love death. The U.S. loves life. That is the big difference between us."

"The Americans love Pepsi-Cola, we love death," explained Afghani al Qaeda operative Maulana Inyadullah. Sheik Feiz Mohammed, leader of the Global Islamic Youth Center in Sydney, Australia, preached: "We want to have children and offer them as soldiers defending Islam. Teach them this: There is nothing more beloved to me than wanting to die as a mujahid." Ayatollah Ali Khamenei said in a speech: "It is the zenith of honor for a man, a young person, boy or girl, to be prepared to sacrifice his life in order to serve the interests of his nation and his religion."

How should Western democracies fight against an enemy whose leaders preach a preference for death?

The two basic premises of conventional warfare have long been that soldiers and civilians prefer living to dying and can thus be deterred from killing by the fear of being killed; and that combatants (soldiers) can easily be distinguished from noncombatants (women, children, the elderly, the infirm and other ordinary citizens). These premises are being challenged by women like Zahra Maladan. Neither she nor her son -- if he listens to his mother -- can be deterred from killing by the fear of being killed. They must be prevented from succeeding in their ghoulish quest for martyrdom. Prevention, however, carries a high risk of error. The woman walking toward the group of soldiers or civilians might well be an innocent civilian. A moment's hesitation may cost innocent lives. But a failure to hesitate may also have a price.

Late last month, a young female bomber was shot as she approached some shops in central Baghdad. The Iraqi soldier who drew his gun hesitated as the bomber, hands raised, insisted that she wasn't armed. The soldier and a shop owner finally opened fire as she dashed for the stores; she was knocked to the ground but still managed to detonate the bomb, killing three and wounding eight. Had the soldier and other bystanders not called out a warning to others -- and had they not shot her before she could enter the shops -- the death toll certainly would have been higher. Had he not hesitated, it might have been lower.

As more women and children are recruited by their mothers and their religious leaders to become suicide bombers, more women and children will be shot at -- some mistakenly. That too is part of the grand plan of our enemies. They want us to kill their civilians, who they also consider martyrs, because when we accidentally kill a civilian, they win in the court of public opinion. One Western diplomat called this the "harsh arithmetic of pain," whereby civilian casualties on both sides "play in their favor." Democracies lose, both politically and emotionally, when they kill civilians, even inadvertently. As Golda Meir once put it: "We can perhaps someday forgive you for killing our children, but we cannot forgive you for making us kill your children."

Civilian casualties also increase when terrorists operate from within civilian enclaves and hide behind human shields. This relatively new phenomenon undercuts the second basic premise of conventional warfare: Combatants can easily be distinguished from noncombatants. Has Zahra Maladan become a combatant by urging her son to blow himself up? Have the religious leaders who preach a culture of death lost their status as noncombatants? What about "civilians" who willingly allow themselves to be used as human shields? Or their homes as launching pads for terrorist rockets?

The traditional sharp distinction between soldiers in uniform and civilians in nonmilitary garb has given way to a continuum. At the more civilian end are babies and true noncombatants; at the more military end are the religious leaders who incite mass murder; in the middle are ordinary citizens who facilitate, finance or encourage terrorism. There are no hard and fast lines of demarcation, and mistakes are inevitable -- as the terrorists well understand.

We need new rules, strategies and tactics to deal effectively and fairly with these dangerous new realities. We cannot simply wait until the son of Zahra Maladan -- and the sons and daughters of hundreds of others like her -- decide to follow his mother's demand. We must stop them before they export their sick and dangerous culture of death to our shores.

Mr. Dershowitz teaches law at Harvard University and is the author of "Finding Jefferson" (Wiley, 2007).

Today's Tune: BoDeans- Fadeaway

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Mark Steyn: ‘It’s the Epigoni, Stupid’

William F. Buckley Jr. stood athwart history and changed its course.

http://www.nationalreview.com
March 1, 2008 9:00 AM

William Francis Buckley Jr., seen at his National Review office in 2004, was born in Manhattan on Nov. 24, 1925, the sixth of the 10 children of Aloise Steiner Buckley and William Frank Buckley Jr. In 1955, Mr. Buckley started National Review as voice for "the disciples of truth, who defend the organic moral order" with a $100,000 gift from his father.
Photo: Vincent Laforet/The New York Times

If you were running one of those Frank Luntz machine-wired focus groups to produce the ideal conservative leader for America, I doubt you’d come up with an urbane patrician harpsichordist semi-resident in Switzerland and partial to words like “eremitical” and “periphrastic.” “It’s the epigoni, stupid” is not a useful campaign slogan — although, in fact, a distressingly large number of political candidates are certainly epigoni (“a second-rate imitator”). But William F. Buckley Jr. was a first-rate original, who founded the modern conservative movement half a century ago, and saw it through to victory in the 1980 presidential election and then to vindication in the collapse of Communism a decade later. He would demur when credited with “creating” the entire show but he was certainly its impresario, and at a time when there wasn’t exactly a lot of talent stampeding to audition.

The 1950s are assumed, at least by children of the Sixties, to be a “conservative” era. But at home New Deal liberalism controlled all the levers of society and abroad the Communists had gobbled up half of Europe, neutered most of the rest, swiped China, were eyeing up other valuable real estate across the planet, and Washington’s foreign-policy establishment was inclined to accept this as a permanent feature of life to be “managed” rather than defeated. The Republican minority in Congress were isolationists or country-club liberals, and their presidential nominees were “moderates” like Dewey or non-partisans like Ike. There was virtually no serious intellectual energy in American conservatism. The notion that in the early 21st century more Americans would identify themselves as “conservatives” than as “liberals” would have struck the elites of 50 years ago as preposterous: a scenario unimaginable outside the more fanciful dystopian science fiction. I’m always reminded of a couplet by Alan Jay Lerner, a Kennedy classmate from Choate and a quintessential limousine liberal, skewering Republican discontents in the Thirties: “Those parties at Mimsie’s, you’d find me wherever the bar was Where everyone said what a sonofabitch FDR was.”

That was what Republicans did: They whined ineffectively.

Mr. Buckley's spirit of fun was apparent in his quixotic 1965 campaign for mayor of New York on the ticket of the Conservative Party. When asked what he would do if he won, he answered, "Demand a recount." He got 13.4 percent of the vote.

Then Bill Buckley showed up and was brilliantly effective. In the barren soil of the Fifties, he planted what became a mighty family tree that includes not just Barry Goldwater and then Ronald Reagan but millions of other Americans. I’ve been amazed in recent days by the number of e-mails I’ve received from readers retelling essentially the same story across the decades: Buckley came to their college in the Sixties, Seventies, Eighties, or Nineties, and the scales fell from their eyes. Or they were in the local library and found a stray copy of something called “National Review” that had somehow managed to penetrate the perimeter fence. Or they were flipping through the channels late at night and stumbled across this cool guy with a pencil effortlessly eviscerating some liberal panjandrum.

Buckley’s Firing Line offered real debate. Not the effete insipid format-choked epigoni we witness every presidential-campaign season beginning with some compromise moderator laboriously explaining that under the painstakingly negotiated rules each candidate will make a two-minute opening statement, after which a randomly chosen rival will offer a 45-second rebuttal, followed by the original candidate’s 30-second pre-rebuttal of the next candidate’s re-rebuttal, followed by, etc, etc. On Firing Line, Bill Buckley and his guests just had at it. His insouciant bravura demonstrated week in, week out that conservatism didn’t have to be clunky and squaresville, but could take on all comers with tremendous style.

I’m sure even now some New York Times type is tutting that Buckley’s movement has fallen into the hands of vulgar bullies like Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter who lack his dash and élan. As it happens, back in 2000 some fellow in the San Francisco Chronicle made exactly that point about a lout called Steyn disfiguring Buckley’s National Review. But, in reality, Bill was, as he would say, the fons et origo of a conservatism that came out swinging — sometimes literally, as in a famous TV encounter of 1968. “As far as I am concerned,” drawled Gore Vidal, “the only crypto-Nazi I can think of is yourself.” “Now listen, you queer,” replied Buckley. “Stop calling me a crypto-Nazi, or I’ll sock you in your goddamn face and you’ll stay plastered.” Indeed. And, if “You Nazi!”/”You queer!” isn’t exactly up there with Oscar Wilde and Noel Coward in the devastating repartee rankings, well, Vidal started it, and Bill’s epithet, unlike Gore’s, at least has the merit of being true. The idea that William F. Buckley represents a civilized conservatism lost to uncouth savages will no doubt become received wisdom in the same way that, upon his death, Ronald Reagan’s success was universally ascribed by the media to an avuncular geniality wholly alien to the vengeful knuckledraggers of the Bush era. But Bill was lethal with opponents on the opposite team and on his own side, dispatching a liberal Republican like his own Senator, Lowell Weicker, to the trash can of history and purging conservatism of its crackpots so thoroughly that conspiracy theories, principally a hallmark of the right in the Fifties, were by the Sixties the more or less sole province of the left, where they’ve remained ever since.

In his last years, as honors like the Presidential Medal of Freedom came his way, Mr. Buckley - shown here in the office of his Stamford, Conn., home in 2005 - gradually loosened his grip on his intellectual empire. In 1998, he ended his frenetic schedule of public speeches. In 1999, he stopped "Firing Line," and in 2004, he relinquished his voting stock in National Review. Mr Buckley, 82, suffered from diabetes and emphysema, his son Christopher said, although the exact cause of death was not immediately known. He was found at his desk in the study of his home, his son said. "He might have been working on a column," Mr. Buckley said.
Photo: Suzy Allman for The New York Times

In his speech at the National Review 50th-anniversary gala, he did me the great honor of reading out a passage of mine from the birthday issue that happened to have tickled his fancy. I am a considerably less elegant writer and listening to Bill reading my rough-and-tumble prose in his languid vowels was a bit like hearing Maria Callas sing “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” But the column he gave me in his magazine is called “Happy Warrior,” and we have at least that in common: He was a very happy warrior, a great twinkling beamer full of merriment who relished taking on the conventional opinions of a complacent establishment against all the odds. Forty-nine years ago, he wrote, “We must bring down the thing called liberalism, which is powerful but decadent, and salvage a thing called conservatism, which is weak but viable.” It is an unending struggle because, while the facts of life are conservative (as his friend Margaret Thatcher put it), liberalism is eternally seductive. But, as they will tell you in the capitals of post-Communist Eastern Europe, the world is better off because William F. Buckley Jr. stood athwart history and changed its course.

© 2008 Mark Steyn

Patrick Buchanan: Katrina Nation

Patrick J. Buchanan Archive

A would-be illegal immigrant scales the border fence dividing Nogales, Sonora, Mex., from Nogales, Ariz., in May.


Virtual Border Fence About As Effective As Katrina Levees—Can't Anybody Here Play This Game?

By Patrick J. Buchanan
http://www.vdare.com/
February 28, 2008

When Woodrow Wilson went to Congress to ask for a declaration of war in 1917, the U.S. Army was ranked 17th in the world, behind Portugal.

On Armistice Day, 19 months later, there were 2 million doughboys in France, where they had helped to break the back of Gen. Ludendorff's theretofore invincible army in its final offensive, and 2 million more in the United States ready to march on Berlin.

No other nation could have done that.

After Japan attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941, FDR demanded that a disarmed America "build 50,000 planes" -- a seemingly impossible number, but one America met and exceeded.

Starting from scratch in 1941, the Manhattan Project at Oak Ridge and Los Alamos designed, built, tested and detonated three atomic bombs by August 1945 to end the war.

After Sputnik humiliated America, Wernher Von Braun and the boys at Redstone Arsenal had a satellite up in three months. In 1961, JFK declared we were going to the moon and would be there before the decade was out. Cynics scoffed. This writer was at Canaveral to watch Apollo 11 lift off in the summer of 1969.

Whatever became of that can-do nation?

In August 2005, Katrina swept through New Orleans and left 30,000 people stranded at the Superdome and Convention Center. Though the floodwater was shallow and stagnant and New Orleans is a port city with boats all over the place, it took six days and the 82nd Airborne to rescue the stranded.

Compare our performance in Katrina with that of the Brits in 1941, who sent hundreds of boats across the Channel to pull 350,000 British and French troops off the continent in one week in the Miracle of Dunkirk. The Brits weren't going to let Goering's fighters deter them from going across and bringing their boys home.

What occasions these reflections is this morning's lead story in The Washington Post: "'Virtual Fence' Along Border to Be Delayed: U.S. Retooling High-Tech Barrier After 28-Mile Pilot Project Fails."
The opening paragraphs:

"The Bush administration has scaled back plans to quickly build a 'virtual fence' along the U.S.-Mexico border, delaying completion of the first phase of the project by at least three years and shifting away from a network of tower-mounted sensors and surveillance gear. ...

"Technical problems discovered in a 28-mile pilot project south of Tucson prompted the change in plans. ..."

Thus, building the first 100 miles of "virtual fence" will take Bush longer than it took FDR to win World War II. The admission of failure comes two years after Bush announced plans for "the most technologically advanced border enforcement initiative in American history."

"The virtual fence," writes the Post, "was to complement a physical fence that the administration now says will include 370 miles of pedestrian fencing and 300 miles of vehicle barriers to be completed by the end of this year. The GAO says this portion of the project may also be delayed and that its total cost cannot be determined. The president's 2009 budget does not propose funds to add fencing beyond the 700 or so miles meant to be completed by this year."

In short, these characters cannot build a virtual fence and won't complete a physical fence. If the nation is fed up with Republicans, who can blame them?

Securing a border is not that difficult. In 1954, President Eisenhower sent an Army general to Texas to do it. He began repatriating thousands of Mexicans and had the situation in hand within a year. Along the San Diego corridor, a crude fence of corrugated steel matting from U.S. airfields in Vietnam has stopped illegal trucks from crossing, cut back 90 percent on the illegal alien traffic, and virtually eliminated murders and assaults in the border area.

Measures taken lately at the state and federal level, though grudgingly by the administration, have begun to bear fruit.

After Arizonans voted to cut off all social benefits to residents who could not prove they were in the country legally came reports of people pulling their kids out of public schools and leaving the state.

From the border come reports that added Border Patrol agents have reduced the number of illegal aliens apprehended, suggesting word has gone out south of the border that it is no longer so easy to walk in. And deportations of criminal aliens, long demanded, are actually going up.

Let it be said: Our border can be secured; the illegal aliens can be sent home; the magnets that draw them here can be turned off. This crisis can be resolved if the courage and will are there. Unfortunately, we have a government that does not seem to care and probable nominees neither of whom is committed in his heart to doing it.

Given the manifest will of the people that this invasion from the south be halted and rolled back, the 2008 election is shaping up as yet further confirmation that American democracy is a fraud.


Patrick J. Buchanan needs no introduction to VDARE.COM readers; his book State of Emergency: The Third World Invasion and Conquest of America, can be ordered from Amazon.com. His new book is Day of Reckoning: How Hubris, Ideology, and Greed Are Tearing America Apart.

Bob Raissman: Baseball Needs Bobby Murcer

New York Daily News

Friday, February 29th 2008, 4:00 AM

Keivom/News
Bobby Murcer during Old-Timers' Day festivities in 2007.

A friend of Bobby Murcer's answered a question Thursday morning by putting it in perspective. Yes, he said, the Oklahoma twang would be missing from the Yankees Entertainment & Sports Network's first spring training telecast Sunday.

And maybe Murcer would miss a couple more exhibition games he was scheduled to work.

Not to worry. This was all just about a scheduling conflict. Murcer's doctors at the M.D. Anderson Hospital in Houston simply changed the days of his regular visit. Ever since Murcer had a brain tumor removed in late December, 2006, he returns to the hospital every few months to be examined and have treatment.

For about a month, he had been congested and coughing. Another Murcer pal said his buddy coughed frequently during a conversation last week.

"With his condition, Bobby's immune system is different," the friend said. "It takes him longer to get over things."

Okay. This all sounded routine. Another checkup. Just missing a few games. No need to be concerned. No need to worry.

An hour or so later, an e-mail from Murcer's wife, Kay, arrived. ". . . And I've always said, ‘No news is good news,' however that's why I'm getting this to you today," Kay Murcer wrote. "Bobby's MRI Tuesday showed an area that the docs are concerned about, and he's scheduled for a brain biopsy at MDA this coming Monday. . . . Please pray that it will be determined to be necrosis (scar tissue from the radiation), and not another cancerous tumor.

"It's one of the two."

Today, Bobby Murcer needs all our prayers. But we need Bobby Murcer. Even now, we need him just as much as he needs us.

Baseball needs him even more.

Apple pie and Mom have been replaced by lying and cheating. The biggest stories in the game make it seem like it is played in a sewer. Roger Clemens, defiant and delusional, staring down the barrel of a possible perjury indictment. Andy Pettitte, destined to spend his summer as a professional witness.

Brian McNamee, the trainer/"friend," with his collection of syringes and gauze. Then there are all those mouthy lawyers and politicians. Don't forget Bud Selig and Donald Fehr. They have been hauled before Congress so many times they are on a first-name basis with the guy who guards the door.

See, we need someone to deliver a bouquet of flowers to a room that stinks. Yeah, we all need Bobby Murcer. We need him now. And in the last season of Yankee Stadium, we need to hear him, on a sunny July day, reminisce about Reggie, Sweet Lou and Thurman. We need to hear him tweak Michael Kay before spinning a few Scooter yarns.

At least for three hours, every summer night, we need to forget about the polluted air surrounding the game. We need to hear Murcer say, "Oh my gosh," after Mariano closes another one. Or throw a few more superlatives at A-Rod.

We need to hear him talk about Derek Jeter's grit and tell us how his former broadcast partner, Joe Girardi, is handling the new gig.

And we all need to think, think hard, about last season and the memories Murcer - and Yankees fans - provided after he was diagnosed with brain cancer. Murcer underwent six hours of surgery to have the tumor removed.

A week later, the first week of January 2007, the pathologist report was grave. The tumor was malignant. Reports showed there were other invasive cells. Murcer then underwent six weeks of chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

But three months later there he stood, bald, beautiful and smiling. It was Opening Day at Yankee Stadium. Top of the third inning against Tampa Bay. Flanked by Kay, Ken Singleton and Girardi, Murcer looked down at the fans and waved. Rod Stewart's version of "Forever Young" sounded from the PA. Then, the crowd of 56,035 stood and cheered. Yankee players did the same. Some pointed up to the broadcast booth.

Murcer wiped away tears.

"If anyone can get well because of that," Murcer said, "I'm well already."

One month later in Arlington, Murcer returned to work his first game for YES. He blended in over the rest of the summer. Once again, Murcer was coming into your home, part of the family, talking Yankees baseball into the fall.

Yesterday, there was nothing in his voice, a voice so positive, indicating anything will change. "I fully intend to be in the booth for the regular season," Murcer said.

The words were spoken by a man of faith. Murcer was supposed to be on Munson's plane that tragic day. And things looked really bad for him last year, too. There is still plenty more for him to accomplish here. March 31 will be his 35th Yankees opener as either a player or broadcaster.
We need him to be there. We need Bobby Murcer.

Pray.

braissman@nydailynews.com