"Boston Is a Brotherhood"

Usually, the T-shirts teams distribute to fans at playoff games, so everyone in the crowd is "united" by the same color, are quite lame. The slogans are silly and we don't really need a T-shirt to confirm our faith in a team, do we? Can't we cheer as loudly in our jeans and the shirt we walked in wearing?

But the one the Celtics gave to fans at their first two home games, with the slogan that is this post's title, rings very sincere and very true, even if it is an Adidas creation. Living in Boston requires something, some bond, some brotherhood, no? I find myself saying "Boston is a brotherhood" to myself for no apparent reasons these days. (Not the first time this has happened with incongruous phrases.) The strange things sports do to you, I suppose.

On Fandom

My hyperbolic post on the Trailblazers four months ago prompted me to stay awake late Saturday night to watch the team's first home playoff game in years, against the Houston Rockets. The Blazers sure crumbled, losing 108-81, in a game that was never close after the first six minutes.

Nonetheless, I watched through much of the third quarter because the Blazers' crowd was amazing. Even when the Blazers were behind by 25 points, the fans cheered "Defense" with such ferocity, it was as though the team had rallied to take the lead. That, combined with the players' youthful cool and vigor, made me think a comeback was always just around the corner, when the Rockets' boring experience always suggested otherwise. It made me wonder if the Celtics' fans would ever bring the same optimistic thunder to a game that the team was losing by so much, and my answer was an emphatic "No." Bostonians and Northeasterners are too quick to reach a judgment -- whether it's a dismissal or a coronation. It made me want to move to Portland.

And then yesterday was Patriots Day, perhaps the best day in all of Boston. Not only did this one have the extra excitement of the Celtics and Bruins winning fantastic playoff games (though I only care about the former), but there were the two athletic staples: the Sox's 11 a.m. game and the Boston Marathon. I've written plenty before about how I don't like rooting for the Sox, but there's something wonderfully quaint about a game starting in the morning, like you're heading to your children's Little League game.

Standing along the Marathon route, which I've done professionaly for two consecutive years now, is also thrilling. Even at relatively anonymous parts of the race, such as downtown Ashland, Mass., the crowds are thick and boisterous. People are excited and clearly enjoy having the race run through their town. Overall, there's something very unusual about being a spectator at a marathon: Tens of thousands of people run past you; you don't know them and only see them for a few seconds each; and this continues for about 20 minutes, yet you find yourself clapping and hollering for almost all of them. I do it out of the sheer awe of running a marathon. Competing in one is a level of personal dedication and discipline that is rare. Well, as rare as can be for something that probably at least a million people do each year.

It made me very excited about Boston again.

Update: Bill Simmons' classic guide to the Boston Marathon needs to be acknowledged here. It's spot-on accurate, though it now starts at 10 a.m. instead of noon, so move forward his schedule by two hours, and very funny, though perhaps funnier if you've actually been in the race crowd.

So Much For The City

Public transportation is one of the defining characteristics of urban life. Few thriving cities lack good public transit and few suburbs have efficient, heavily used systems. I find it hard how one can argue against the two being deeply intertwined.

Apparently, the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority, aka the T, aka greater Boston's public transit system, isn't terribly interested in maintaining Boston's position as a thriving city. Unless the Legislature steps in to fill its $160 million deficit, T officials are considering stopping commuter rail service after 7 p.m. on weekdays and totally on the weekends; cut bus and subway service by half after 8 p.m. on weekdays and all through the weekends; and eliminating six stops on the Green Line and some bus routes. (The Globe's story on the T's plan is here.)

Doing this would effectively end all commuter train traffic and dump hundreds of thousands of more cars on the area's already congested highway system. What professional living in the suburbs but working downtown would take the train to work knowing that if that day's work kept her at the office past 7 -- which is always possible in law, finance, engineering, etc, etc -- she would be marooned in the city or pay a ridiculous amount for a 25-mile cab ride? That means driving and paying ridiculous amounts for a monthly parking garage pass downtown. Who wants to do that when parking at suburban office parks costs nothing? Obviously, this also poses a problem for employers, who could be faced with a decision of buying or subsidizing lots of parking spaces for their staff or just moving to the suburbs themselves. That then further complicates things for the staff, who probably live all through the suburbs and now travel into downtown, but would then have to work their way to one specific part of the suburbs no matter where they live. I haven't even addressed city nightlife or general life. Ugh, this is ridiculous.

Of course, this isn't the first time a public entity has leaked a worst-case scenario to the press and won't be the last. A friend who works in transportation describes it as a negotiating tactic, so when such a disaster is averted, officials are hailed as heroes for getting the city out of a tough spot.

Gov. Deval Patrick actually has a pretty logical solution: Raise the gasoline tax. He's proposing an extra 19 cents per gallon and, on his Web site, provides a helpful breakdown of how each of those cents would be spent. Six would go to preserving the T's service without a fare hike. Unsurprisingly, state legislators don't like the idea and have indicated they won't raise the tax by more than 10 cents per gallon. Politicians never want to say they voted for any type of tax increase, but we have to think about what is worth paying for, even if it sometimes includes a higher tax: Keeping greater Boston a thriving place is one of them. Yes, legislators represent districts, some of then not at all served by the T, but they also represent the whole state. Unfortunately, they rarely act like it, but now is a time for them to start.

Thanks for the Thrills for the post's title. I always liked their debut record much more than my friends did. The album art looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch photo shoot and they were Irishmen playing faded-jeans late-60s California pop, but it all had a great forlorn sound to it.

Update: The fiscal 2010 budget approved by Gov. Deval Patrick earlier this week increases the state's sales from 5 to 6.25 percent, from which about $295 million will be used annually for transportation, including the T. Crisis averted -- for now. Raising the sales tax doesn't solve the systemic problem plaguing all transportation systems. Every three or so years they say they need to raise fares, showdown ensues, a mild resolution is reached. Rinse and repeat.

Welcome To Mortgage-Backed Securities Field!

After all the ink spilled in the New York papers over Citi Field the past few weeks, my question is: Why? Obviously, it's an expensive, taxpayer-funded (in more ways than one) field in the world's biggest media market, but it's not replacing an icon, as the other new ballpark in town is, doesn't aim to revitalize a neighborhood as many parks built in the past 15 years have (leaving aside the debate about whether stadiums can actually lead urban revitalization), and doesn't come with a critically lauded look, as, say, Camden Yards has. Stories on the financing, higher ticket prices, new look, new corporate-sponsored amenities, and the effect on how the game is played, etc, are certainly warranted, but the Times had about three stories per day in the week leading up to the season. How about some coverage of the Mets?

The players have been overshadowed by their new home, so, from 210 miles away, it's hard to evaluate the team's chances this year. Of course, I'm optimistic. The pitching rotation is far above average: Johan Santana is one of the game's best and Mike Pelfrey, Oliver Perez and John Maine are all better than the typical options in the two through four slots. Perez had a bad spring and worse debut, which prompted my uncle to send a funny e-mail, but I've always liked him. Perhaps I remember his 2006 playoffs performance too fondly. Francisco Rodriguez isn't a great fit -- he vainly refuses to pitch more than an inning an outing, when the Mets need a closer who can get five outs occasionally so they can bypass the rest of the bullpen -- but they signed him at a recession discount.

The lineup is the concern. Beyond Reyes, Wright, Beltran and Delgado, there is little there, particuarly if they decide to play Gary Sheffield over Ryan Church in right field. Signing Sheffield was perhaps the most curious thing management could've done a week before the season started. "Hey, a pouty, mercurial 40-year-old slugger who can't play the field but wants to play the field is available. Should we sign him? I can't think of a reason not to!" Thankfully, Church is 8 for15 in the first four games.

If the Mets don't make the playoffs this year, it raises the serious question of whether the above quartet should be split. Delgado will leave soon because of his age, but trading Reyes, Wright or Beltran would be very difficult. They're all faces of the franchise (two of them easily promoted, very cute faces) and in the midst of expensive long-term contracts. Nonethlees, should the Mets enter their patented mid-August swoon, that would make four years and only one playoff appearance with this talented core, suggesting the team's composition just isn't right. Something to think about through the season.

Really, though, the Mets and Citi should try to turn the fact that the government owns the field into an advantage. Enough with the teasing about "Taxpayer Field" or "Bailout Field." How about collateralized debt obligations bobblehead dolls? Or the Structured Investment Vehicles Concourse and Derivatives Disco Night? I'm just getting started here. Tell Geithner to issue an RFP and he'll get plenty more ideas from me. I won't be able to render judgment on the field until Roger Angell weighs in and I actually see a game there.

Update: My uncle had the funniest idea yet: Renaming the tarp that covers the infield during rain delays "TARP tarp."

"Imagined Communities"

In "Gone Baby Gone," an absorbing movie, there's an interesting exchange between Casey Affleck's character, a private investigator who's lived his whole life in South Boston, and that of Ed Harris, a Boston Police detective who's investigating a young local girl's kidnapping. Affleck tells Harris he'll be more adept at convincing people to talk to them because he grew up in Southie. Harris replies that he's lived in Boston for more years than Affleck's been alive. Affleck looks unconvinced.

The scene has stuck with me this week, as I've decided to stay awhile longer in the city that I'm starting to call home. When does one actually start to call it that?

Thanks to Benedict Anderson for the post's title. His book deserves some sort of special award for appearing in at least one third of all humanities' and social sciences' college syllabi, right? I remember reading the first chapter, and while it was interesting, couldn't help but think, He really needs a whole book to explain this point?

What Does A Boa Constrictor Sound Like?

Easy answer: Caithlin De Marrais.

De Marrais, the petite and pale lead singer of Ranier Maria, always had an astonishing way of singing when she led that band. I remember standing very far away from her, in the summer of 2001, at the Village Voice's annual concert at Coney Island, marveling as she seemed to unlock her jaw to sing. Her mouth opened so much larger than one would expect for someone her size. On record, her cadences sound like she's consuming gigantic words, lyrics and thoughts whole, and then spitting them back to us to share their sheer force.

The way she explodes into the first word of the song "Tinfoil" -- "Goddamnit" -- is like something detonated inside of her, or, perhaps, like the exagerrated ingestion of something by a snake. Something passes through all of her body when she articulates her feelings in song. There are other female vocalists who are more magnetic and talented, but probably not one as sincerely powerful as De Marrais.

Unfortunately, Rainer Maria is probably one of those bands that, five years now, barely anyone will remember. They released two excellent albums, "Look Now, Look Again" and "A Better Version of Me," and I always loved the songs "Tinfoil" and "Atlantic." They also seemed to have a loyal following to fill mid-sized clubs for about six years. But those records were on Polyvinyl --which had a very good emo identity for awhile, an interestingly diverse roster after that, and has receded since -- not the major indies. They were also most popular immediately before Pitchfork reached the status that a band could sell a record into the six figures from an excellent review, or simply propel itself from the constant coverage. And Pitchfork never much liked Rainer Maria because they were third-generation (fifth? who knows?) emo, which in general barely registers on the cultural scene anymore. Rainer Maria executed very, very well, though.

Writing this makes me feel like the guys who write R5's descriptions of bands, when some obscure group that released two good records from 1992-96 reunites, and they get so wistful about those February 1993 basement shows and end the blurb with "Yes!!!" And I sit there reading and think, "Who?" Anyway, to the good times: A high-quality video of Ranier Maria performing "Tinfoil" at Cat's Cradle: