Shamwow, walking tacos and other things Rickey might like

Absolutely crazy week, which explains why we’re getting the special Deezo Pre-Inauguration Friday, er, Monday Five.

1) Apparently I make a mean "walking taco." Rachael Ray would be so proud.

As the father of a high school athlete, I am assigned assorted duties, among them working in the concession stand during meets.

We sell a steady stream of popcorn, candy, popcorn, soggy bun hot dogs, popcorn, warm pizza slices, more popcorn and walking tacos, which I believe are a Michigan thing.

Basically, you take snack-sized back of Fritos, carefully open the top and spoon in taco meat, cheese, and a little bit of sour cream. Hand the kids a fork and a napkin, and off they go.

Only I decided to shake this up a little bit, adding cheese first, then the taco meat, then a lot more cheese before a generous spoonful of sour cream. This allows some of the cheese to melt over the Fritos.

I didn’t think this was too revolutionary, but one of the other parents was impressed and declared I make the best walking taco.

Sports parents, I learned, are very competitive, because one of the other parents overhead this and wanted to know why my walking tacos earned such a distinction.

Thinking this was a joke, I held up one of her earlier attempts, where she accidentally split the Frito bag, making it un-walkable.

This, however, was not deemed funny.

The rest of the shift was spent rushing over to the crock pot with the taco meat as soon as the order was placed, me defending my title and the other parent trying to top me like the Phillies in the last week in the last two seasons.

Unlike the Mets, I prevailed.



2) From the Department of Things I Really Shouldn’t Care About, But Do anyway, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced it class of 2009: Metallica, Run-DMC, Jeff Beck, Bobby Womack and Little Anthony and the Imperials.

So, in review, the guys who sang "Shimmy Shimmy Ko-Ko Bop" about 50 years ago are enshrined, while the guys who sang, "Sultans of Swing" are not.

Bobby Womack, in. Rush, not.

It’s a rock and roll hall, right?

Will knows I vent about this each year and had a response ready when the news came down on Wednesday.

"I’ve decided to refuse to care about the RNRHOF until the following are inducted (all of them): Rush, Genesis, Peter Gabriel, Chicago, Kiss, Yes, ELO, Robert Plant, Pete Townshend, Dire Straits and ABBA. And I hated ABBA, but if you're going to include Madonna, then ABBA totally belongs."

Spot-on, as always, except that I like ABBA.

Meanwhile, we can all sit back and wait for that induction ceremony when the guys from Metallica jam with Little Anthony.



3) The Baseball Hall of Fame did a little better, adding another former Mets to its ranks, along with Jim Rice, who we spanked handily in the 1986 World Series.

Sadly, the Veteran’s Committee elected another dead Yankee. Joe Gordon died in 1978 and has not played since 1950 — pre-dating even Little Anthony!

Can someone explain to me how a guy can be not Hall-worthy for 47 years and suddenly earn a place beside Tom Seaver, Willie Mays, Richie Ashburn, Duke Snider, Warren Spahn and other Mets of note in year No. 48?



4) Grand Rapids has become a large enough city that two guys can show up at an outdoor event dressed as Scooby Doo and Under Dog and attract hardly any attention.

This was New Year’s Eve, and Grand Rapids was dropping a lighted ball, like in Times Square.

The difference was that our ball was dropped by a crane instead of down a flag pole atop a building and the people in attendance were actual area residents who went home with their wallets instead of the tourists who flood the homeland hoping to appear briefly on New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.

But ignoring a couple guys dressed like dogs was a very New York thing to do. I was impressed.



5) I’m strangely fascinated by the guy in the Shamwow commercials.

Clearly he’s a freak. The hair, the headset microphone, the ‘tude and the fact that he almost makes me believe that a yellow rag can soak up a Diet Coke spill and arrange a cease fire in the Gaza Strip. His delivery reminds me of a three-card monte dealer.

Did some research and it turns out Shammie’s name is Vince Offer and he wrote and directed the 1999 film "The Underground Comedy Movie" that a New York Post review gave zero stars, said it "may be the least amusing comedy ever made."

Ouch. But that explains why Vice is hawking miracle rags.

Cleveland sites creepy -- but kinda cool

Where in the heck is Rush?

That, I explained to my son, is a very valid question.

But gaping induction holes aside, we had fine time on the second day of our Cleveland adventure.

We made it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum just before it opened, arriving just ahead of a tour bus full of people we suspected would be absolutely horrified at much of what they were about to see inside.

The hall is a neat-looking building — designed by I.M. Pei — but I wonder if its unusual shape limits what organizers can display, because for all its size, there doesn’t really seem to be all that much space, and much of the space that is there doesn’t easily lend itself to displays.

My wife and I visited the hall not too long after it opened in 1995, and I checked it out again with the Baseball Truth gang in 2003, discovered that there had been almost a total overhaul – a dramatic improvement.

You might be wondering why such an institution is in Cleveland. A sign out front reads that Cleveland disc jockey Alan Freed is credited with coining the term "rock and roll" and that the city was the location of the first rock concert. What it doesn’t say was that civic leaders pledged $65 million in public money to fund the construction, which didn’t hurt.

One of the few things you are allowed to photograph in the hall: The Trabant cars from U2's Zoo TV tour.

We started in the lower level with the baseball exhibit and found it kind of lacking, but they did show a Dwight Gooden album that I never knew existed.

My favorite part of the lower level is the display of all the stage clothes. There’s a good representation of everyone from Aerosmith to ZZ Top. For people who are supposed to be larger than life, rock stars are often smaller folks, at least that what it looks like when you see their outfits.

Pausing at the David Bowie exhibit, I saw a kid who looked to be 12 studying some "Ziggy Stardust" era artifacts and say "Is that a boy or a girl?" and suspected Bowie would have been pleased.

Not having any Kiss outfits on display is a gaping hole in the exhibit, but I’ve heard that stems from Gene Simmons refusing to offer up anything unless he got a cut of the admission fees. We can’t fault the museum for that.


But there are plenty of interesting relics, including John Lennon’s piano and glasses, one of Elvis’s jumpsuits and Billy Joel’s motorcycle.

Heading upstairs, we found a new Ramones display that was just glorious — a set list even includes when Dee Dee would yell "one-two-three-four" between songs. We immediately picked Joey out of his elementary school class photo in his Cub Scouts uniform.

We also found the display that includes the cremains of Alan Freed. This is either really creepy or really cool. Or both.

The actual "hall of fame" is an audio-visual presentation showing each year’s inductees and snippets of songs, lyrics and interviews – and in the case of the Sex Pistols, their letter calling the museum "a piss stain" and stating why the surviving members chose not to appear at the induction ceremony.

Most of the songs selected to represent the inductees were obvious choices, some seemed of odd. For Madonna, the hall picked "Vogue." It seemed strange to select a throw-away track on a greatest hits CD that is better known for its video for someone who has a boatload of iconic hits.

And is "Kiss," the best example of Prince’s work? I thought something – anything – from "Purple Rain" would be better. And "Why Can’t This Be Love?" sure isn’t what I think of when I think of Van Halen.


The hallway leading out passes what used to be the hall, etched glass with simulated autographs, the names of the performers and the year inducted. It was kind of a letdown when it was all there was. But it’s perfect as a compliment to the video.

Then you pass through another temporary exhibit – this time it’s about the Beatles’ movie "Help!" – before taking a circular staircase to the very top of the building. That used to be the proper hall with the etched glass. Now its more temporary exhibit space, now dedicated to The Doors.

One my favorite exhibits includes some of the huge stage props from Pink Floyd’s "The Wall" tour, which was a big part of the soundtrack for anyone going to high school in the early 1980s.

After navigating the massive gift store, we walked around the lakeside for a little bit then moved on to our last adventure.

We had to work presidents into this trip somewhere, and James A. Garfield has what must be the most unusual of all presidential tombs. The 20th president rests in Lake View Cemetery on the city’s east side.

We arrived at the castle-like memorial about 4:02 — only to find it closed at 4 p.m. We ran up the stairs and found the doors already locked, and were about to walk away when it slowly opened.

The caretaker said he was sorry, and that he had just closed. I asked if we could quickly pay our respects, and was slowly shaking his head when I added, "We’re from Michigan!"

I intended this to show that we came a long way, forgetting that in Ohio State University country, this is like saying, "I would like to be pushed to the ground and kicked."

But I also know that people who volunteer to staff such places do so because they are passionate about the subject.

He opened the door all the way and said, "Let me go and turn all the lights back on."

Yes!


And once inside we saw a spectacular rotunda with a large white statue of Garfield, dramatically lit. The caretaker said the architect didn’t want the statue in there, thinking it was unnecessary, but was overruled by the committee overseeing the project.

The caretaker pointed out some of the features, then sent us to the circular stone staircase to the lower level.

And there, on simple stone pedestals, were the caskets of President Garfield and his wife, Lucretia as well as urns containing the cremains of their daughter and her husband.


I’ve been to a number of presidential gravesites, and in every other place the caskets are either buried or stashed in a vault. Like with Freed, I couldn’t decided whether this was cool or creepy.

I didn’t want to impose any longer, so we rushed back upstairs and thanked the caretaker profusely. But he said we weren’t done, and pointed to stairs leading up to an observation deck, where, he said, we’d have the best view of the Cleveland skyline in the city. And he was correct.

Asking him to stamp my National Parks passport would have been pushing our luck, so we were on our way.

Lake View is home to a number of other famous Ohio residents, including John D. Rockefeller, lawman Eliot Ness and Ray Chapman, the Indians player killed during a game.

We found Rockefeller and stumbled upon Ness, but were unable to locate Chapman before deciding we needed to start our 5-hour trek back to Grand Rapids.

Cleveland rocks!

I have a new favorite road trip destination -- Cleveland! My son and I picked the city on Lake Erie for our semi-annual bonding trip that included baseball, rock and roll and even a president.

And, of course, we had some adventures and even a nice encounter with some fellow Mets fans.

I like Cleveland. We had a nice visit back when the Indians played in the monsterously huge Cleveland Stadium, and I sat for a spell in the bleachers interviewing John Adams, the guy who bangs the huge drum. And Will and I returned in 1997, first for a game and later for the All-Star Game Home Run Derby, won shockingly by Tino Martinez.

And we toured the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with the Baseball Truth gang after the opening game of our 2003 weekend was rained out. There was a massive upgrade since my prior Hall visit, and we'll get into that in the next post.

We started with the Cleveland Hard Rock Cafe, which is located in a mall-hotel complex just two blocks from Progressive Field, the unfortunate new name for Jacobs Field.

If you've seen one Hard Rock, you've kind of seen them all, which is not a bad thing. We took turns walking around the restaurant checking out all the sweet rock and roll memorabilia on the walls. We also added to my son's collection of Hard Rock t-shirts and pins.

After our pulled pork sandwiches, we headed over to the ballpark. It was "Beach Weekend," and the Indians had all sorts of music and activities, including truckloads of sand. We had more than an hour before the gates opened, so we walked on down to the Rock Hall to plot our visit for the next day.

The Indians have some neat plaza art, with an impressive Bob Feller statue, and large letters spelling out "Who's on First?"

The Jake is a nice ballpark. Built at the start of the new wave of design, the team passed on the retro look for a sleek, modern look with lots of exposed white steel. It's already 14 years old, but doesn't look it. The video display on scoreboard is just incredible, and blows away what the Reds had to offer the week before.

It was cap night -- never a bad thing -- and I was impressed that small programs were handed out for free. But they lack a scorecard, so I picked one up at a concession stand, and learned that the yearbooks were half-price. A sale at a ballpark?

The gift store was more than adequate, with a charity section selling game-used jerseys for $175, and autographed tags that looked like locker signs for between $25 and $75, depending on the player.

Of course, I opted for the lower-end of the souvenir spectrum, buying an Indians Statue of Liberty pin to get change for the penny squishing machine.

I didn't notice of there were any specialty foods, but we were still full from our meal at the Hard Rock.

Strolling around, I discovered the Indians' Heritage Park in centerfield. It's basically a collection of plaques commemorating the team's greatest moments and players. It was nice, but a drastic step down from the Reds' over-the-top Hall of Fame from the week before.

The lower level had this plaque for Ray Chapman, the only player killed in a game. There also was a section for what appeared to be the 100 greatest Indians, with autographs etched into polished black stone. Ex-Met Carlos Baerga gets some love there.


I also ran into Slider, dressed in his beach party attire. We could not figure out what Slider is supposed to be, which makes him a bad mascot. Then again, not everyone can be Mr. Met.

Speaking of the Mets, I was wearing my 1994 Indians Eddie Murray jersey for the occasion. My son and I settled into our seats behind home plate in the upper deck, and in the middle of the second inning a man and a woman came and sat in the seats next to us.

I saw him looking the out-of-town scoreboard and say to his wife, "Oh no, the Mets are already down 4-0," in a perfect accent. Instinctively, I turned and said, "I guess Brandon Knight is getting roughed up in his debut."

"What are you, an Indian fan who also roots for the Mets?"

"No, I'm a Mets fan who collects jerseys. Where in New York are you from?"

"Wantagh."

"No. Freaking. Way. Massapequa Park!"

OK, so there are 38,500 people at this game and I'm lucky enough to get to sit next to a Mets fan from two towns over. I lead a blessed life.

Turns out my new friend was in the middle of a ballpark tour with his wife, seeing the Pirates the night before, then heading to Detroit the next day and over to Toronto before heading home. And he, too, was at the second game of the Subway Series, where Johan Santana was denied and my streak extended.

Naturally, we had all kinds of fun talking about our resurgent team and how Cleveland was a nice city. I warned him about Detroit.

We noticed that the Indians fans were very polite. The Twins rocked Fausto Carmona for 9 runs in two and a third innings, and he walked off the mound to a smattering of polite applause. That's not quite the response he would have gotten at Shea.

But we also had praise for our hosts. "I haven't seen a single person in Yankees gear all night," the wife testified. "I saw three people in Pittsburgh last night wearing Yankees stuff."

I say anyone who rates crowd intelligence by the lack of Yankee logos is pretty darn astute. And I pointed out that I saw a guy with a David Wright t-shirt and Mets backpack, plus my son was wearing his inherited Mets batting practice jersey. That's a good ratio.

There was a beautiful sunset and clouds on an absolutely perfect evening. I'm loving both Costco and my new camera for allowing me to capture this.

Here's an aside for some Costco love. My old camera -- old in relative electronic terms -- died in Key West in April, and we bought a new one from Costco.

Well, sometime in the glory of the steak snapping in Cincy, either I dropped the camera or someone stepped on it in my backpack because the viewing screen was shattered. There was much sadness.

I know Costco changed its electronics return policy, which we have used liberally after a series of iPod deaths. I thought we had 30 days to return something. But when I brought my shattered camera to the store to check into buying a new one, I discovered that you actually have 90 days -- and I was on day 85.

So I was able -- encouraged, actually -- to return the broken camera and get a replacement. Since they don't sell the model of the broken one any more, I had to upgrade to a model that features a much better zoom feature.

And this why all of my gold fish are named "Costco." But I digress.

The Twins eventually spanked the Indians 12-4, which I could enjoy as a neutral observer. We did have some angst following the progress of the Mets game. The team had caught up with the Cardinals, then lost the lead again.

We hit a place in The Flats and found ESPN showing the Mets had tied it up again and were deep into extra innings by the time our ballpark pretzels and dipping sauces were served. They didn't blow the game until after we got back to the hotel and took advantage of La Quinta's free wifi to follow the progress.

That was a lot of excitment for Day One. I'll return with the rest of our adventures.

Tin soldiers and Mets Guy's coming...

I seem to be spending a lot of time in Ohio this summer.

After breaking the streak in Cincinnati last weekend, my son and I are headed to Cleveland to take in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and an Indians game.

Deezo’s a Cleveland guy, so I don’t he’ll object to his fair city taking up a big chunk of the Deezo Friday Five.


1) It’s my son’s first trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He’s been learning about classic rock, and I expect this to be a crash course.

There’s a special exhibit about The Doors, which had that huge revival when I was in high school. That must have frustrated bands at the time that were actually alive and functioning.

Some things seem to have changed since my last visit to the hall in 2003. Mainly the admission price at $22 a head! I’m glad I discovered this in advance and found a hotel package that throws in the tickets. Otherwise an exchange like this might have happened:

Me: $22? Are you kidding me? Well, at least I can see the Rush exhibit.
Poor ticket-seller: Sorry, sir. But Rush has not been inducted.
Me: What? $22 and no Rush? Fine. I’m sure the Twisted Sister display will be well worth the price.
PTS: If we had one, I’m sure it would be.
Me: No Twisted? Next thing you know you’ll tell me they never got around to inducting Kiss.
PTS: (blank stare)
Me: Aw, c’mon! It is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, right? Who do you guys have in there, Madonna?
PTS: Actually, she was inducted this year.



2) I swear it’s just a coincidence that the Hall has a baseball-themed exhibit right now. “Take Me Out: Baseball Rocks” “celebrates baseball as a pop-culture phenomenon through displays of sheet music, sports memorabilia, records and film. It also includes listening stations stocked with early recordings and will include displays on baseball-associated songs from “I Love Mickey,” Teresa Brewer’s 1956 Mickey Mantle tribute, to the Seattle Mariners/New York Mets anthem “Who Let the Dogs Out?” (Baha Men, 2000).”

We shared that thing with the Mariners?



3) It was about 95 degrees when I went to see the Mets and the Reds last Sunday, and my seat was right in the blazing sun. Luckily, I had some packets of sunscreen left in my backpack.

Now, had I been at the sinkhole called Yankee Stadium, I would have been either burned to a crisp or broke.

The Skanks took all kinds of heat for adding sunscreen to the list of things banned at the ballpark, allegedly telling fans they could cover themselves one last time at the turnstile, then throw away the rest.

Apparently the team feared the sunscreen would be used by terrorists, as if anything or anyone is more terrifying than anything or anyone in the Yankee Stadium bleachers.

Not to fear, the team was willing to sell you a one-ounce bottle of sunscreen for a whopping $5. That’s probably more expensive than Derek F. Jeter’s cologne — put the sunscreen probably smells better.



4) We’re seeing the Indians play the Twins at what is now called Progressive Field. Last time I was there we saw the 1997 All-Star Game Home Run Derby and the celebrity softball game, buying tickets from a scalper on the street for $5 over the $20 face value. That wouldn’t happen today.

It’s free cap day, so we’ll be bringing home some Wahoo wear. I’m torn about that. I have a friend who thinks Wahoo is a tremendous logo, but I can also see why some might find it offensive.

The Tribe’s new retro uniforms are pretty sweet. Then again, calling them “The Tribe” is probably as offensive as the logo. This is going to be a tricky weekend.



5 ) The awesome Uniwatch blog today published these old comics proving that Spider-Man is a Mets fan. Check out the classic panels on Shea!

Well of course he’s a Mets fan. “The Amazing” is a part of his name.

Plus, can you imagine being a superhero going to Yankee Stadium? You’d be so busy fighting crime in the stands — confiscating sunscreen and all — that you’d never get to watch the game.

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is full of Rizzutos

Madonna?

Well, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has now joined the Baseball Hall of Fame in jumping the shark.

Actually, the two institutions are more alike than anyone suspects. The people voting on the baseball hall seem to be overly generous to the players they worshipped as kids and ignore more recent stars, who they watched play every day and became more aware of their faults.

Then you have the old Veterans Committee tossing in their buddies, like Phil Rizzuto.

The rock hall is pretty much the same thing. Note the lack of 1980s and 1970s bands in there.

Since we have long bemoaned the failings of the baseball hall, let’s turn out focus on the rock hall, which this week inducted John Mellencamp -- yes! -- and Madonna.

I’ll list bands that, like Keith Hernandez, have long been denied recognition. Plus, for each one we’ll offer up a Rizzuto, people and bands with no business in that building without buying a ticket.

Hernandez: Rush
Rush was hall-worthy the moment "Moving Pictures" was released. The fact that the band continues to produce outstanding music and incredible tours 25 years later and is universally respected by its musical peers later begs the question: What exactly does one have to do to get in the place? It's as if the baseball hall didn't have the game's all-time hits leader. Oh, wait...

Rizzuto: Bee Gees
The Bee Gees are in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Let that rumble around the cranium for a moment or two. The personification of the disco era. I’m not saying the brothers don’t have some great songs. They do. It’s just that none of them are rock and roll. And Barry Gibb’s falsetto makes Geddy Lee sound like Barry White.

Hernandez: Kiss
Influential? Check. Longevity? Check. Biggest band in the land at one point? Check. Best album cover of all time? Check. Cool action figures? Check. What are they missing here?

Rizzuto: Grace Slick
I have no problem inducting Jefferson Airplane/Jefferson Starship/Starship if for no other reason than "White Rabbit" is funny as a period piece. Plus they get points for writing about "Alice in Wonderland," showing that stoned rockers can read classic literature or at least were coherent enough to watch the Disney movie.

But Grace as a solo artist? Granted, there is precedence here, as the baseball writers seemed intent on inducting every member of the 1927 Yankees. But this is one sum that is greater than its parts.

Now, if she could breathe fire, spit blood and wear menacing dragon boots, it would be different.


Hernandez: Foreigner
OK, this is sort of a combination ballot of Foreigner, Styx and Journey, the so-called "corporate rock" bands that ruled the late 1970s and 1980s. All three have been dissed, and I can’t figure out why. Some of the Styx stuff that overdoses on keyboards sounds a little dated, but much of the music from these three bands holds up pretty well. I dare say "Urgent" is better than anything in the Billboard Top 100 today. The fact that "The Sopranos" made a big deal out of "Don’t Stop Believing" shows its staying power.

Rizzuto: The Dells.
Do-wop is not rock and roll. It just isn’t. They’re in the Vocal Group Hall of Fame, and I’m fine with that. But they don’t belong here. And same thing goes for The Coasters, the Moonglows, the Drifers, the Teenagers, the Ink Spots, the Impressions and the Flamingos -- all of which are members.


Hernandez: Twisted Sister
An atrocity. Kick-ass Long Island bar bands should get to go to the front of the line. Standing up to Tipper Gore should at least get the band in the conversation. Where was Jackson Browne and his protest-loving ilk when Dee Snider was up there smacking down Mrs. Global Warming?

Rizzuto: Ritchie Valens
Hold on, hear me out before you start yelling. I love "La Bamba." And "Donna" is a nice song. And it sucks that Valens was killed just as his career was starting. But if a hall of fame career is based on one awesome song and one nice ballad, then you’re going to have to expand the heck out of the place. He’s the Mark Fidrych of rock, except that Fidrych was fortunate enough to just blow out his arm instead of being in a plane crash. And Mark Fidrych is not in the Hall of Fame.



Hernandez: ABBA
I’m not a huge ABBA fan, but this is another group that made an undeniable impact. And there’s a chance they were the biggest band in the world at one point. There must be some kind of anti-Swedish bias.

Rizzuto: Dusty Springfield.
How many times in your life have you ever thought: "Dusty Springfield, she rocks!" Yes, she had some nice hits and sold some records. So did Joan Jett. And Joan Jett rocks! One awesome cameo in a Pet Shop Boys song does not make one a rocker.

Alas, we're only scratching the surface. Boston, Cheap Trick, Genesis, Yes, Asia, Motorhead, Judas Priest.....all on the outside looking in, just like Andre Dawson, Dale Murphy, Jim Rice and Bert Blyleven.