Van Gordon

The world is less one great pianist with the passing of the cold war phenom Van Cliburn.  Gordon suggested that we listen to his performance of 'Widmung' a Liszt transcription of a song by Schumann.
We did.  He's no Brian Wilson but it's worth 3.5 minutes of your time.

As my mother might have said:  "if only Gordon had practiced"

Musings from Reifsnyder

As this reporter sits in the studio of AI Productions and observes that AI-XVII will be underway precisely I week from tonight, my meticulous planning and mañana work philosophy has led to a state of near panic.  How much adrenaline can one person produce anyway?  I was sure this was going to be the year of well-paced, leisurely preparation.



But all seriousness aside, harking back to the highly regarded series of 'Ruminations' from AI-XVI, the most famous ruminant since Bambi has again blessed us with his thoughts as the days rush toward the commencement of this, our XVIIth gathering.  Or as Churchill opined: "Never have so few done so much for no apparent reason."

Here then, as the AI Staff furiously works to prepare the golf course,

trusses chickens, refines the entertainment or lack thereof, and continues the search for clean sheets, we present:  Musings From Reifsnyder.

T-MINUS ONE WEEK AND COUNTING

The oddity that “golf” and “The Apartment” could, or even should, be thought of in the same breath is quite ironic, especially after a meal with lots of garlic. Between late 1976 through the ’78 U.S.Open, Mitch and I never played together: nor, I might add, with each other.

Naturally, we watched and appreciated the greatest in golf, all due to the “Miracle of Tee-Wee”. Rarely did a Sunday afternoon pass between The January Clambake at Pebble and the PGA--wherever-the-fuck the fourth and, in fact, distantly fourth major of the year was being contested--Mitch and I—and Gordon, when it was at least 80 degrees—would be glued to the set and, occasionally, to the seat. We spouted golf lore, imitated the announcers, entertained guests, tossed about free packs of sotweed, played Billy Joel way too loud, poured beers, and watched the drama unfold. No one is close when it comes to with whom I would choose to watch a sporting event: after (from a warm bubble-bath with) Amy Adams, I would have to say, well… Mitch. No bubble-bath required.

But it was not until the early '80s, while our esteemed host and Tournament Director was honing his business skills (acquired, now famously, from an intensive five-day, balls-out, accelerated program at Cornell) and realized he could make ten times as much if he knew how to play golf. Let’s face it: his softball career was over.

We first played at a public course in or near Columbia, Maryland, what Mitch, Kathi, Sean E. and a large snow-white furry beast,“Serbo”, called home in the early Reagan years. Hobbits’ Glen? Or maybe Hobbitts Glen?  Maybe Hobbit’s Glans?

As it happened, I was at the top of a meaningful push in what was my competitive drive to become and stay a single- digit handicap player…and Mitch? Our generous host and quite fortunate spouse of Kathleen—The One-Armed Banquet Director—Marinari’s, was just beginning to take all this country club stuff seriously. He was terrible. No freakin idea. Here’s a guy with well-established athletic talents—including, but not limited to—hitting a softball a country mile and, with the wind out of the east, even a suburban mile, kicking your ass at “horse” in roundball, and, when called upon, lifting an entire twenty-three pound ham out of the Apartment oven after an afternoon and evening at Dunkle’s playing pinball and bangin beers at two bucks a pitcher.

AI-XVII is here.

Heimsch is ready.

Gordon too is ready, sadly not for competitive golf.

The Boob, again, is my favorite to win.

Report From The Banquet Kitchen

As the days turn into nights and the nights in turn back into days, the simple task of being tedious has itself become tedious.  But wait!  Can we not turn to the Banquet Department for inspiration, for flights of fancy, for slaking our thirst for fantasy? For.....chicken?

The Banquet Director and Sous Chef never sleep.  Well, actually they do, but you know what I mean.

So, there's this:  Let the salivating begin.

Official Balls of AI-XVII

Each year the AI-Swag Committee agonizes over the proper combination of gifts for the participants.  We use several criteria in determining the final mix:  those that will be the least useful; most embarrassing; heaviest; and most importantly, cheapest.

Herewith the Balls of AI-XVII.  Look familiar Gordon??

Diversity

Golf is well known for its homogeneous nature - old, white, male, Republican (or whatever is to the right of Republican), alocholic, cigar smoking and out of shape. 

The AI has strived for it's XVII years, to be a beacon of diversity in that sea of similarity.  We are outliers.  We have taken it upon ourselves to be inclusive rather than exclusive.  Unfortunately, no one seems to want to be included.

And so we celebrate the use of ASL as a means of communicating one's deepest and heartfelt feelings.  One wonders if this woman is perhaps a former student of Dr. Bauer's.

 

Did You Think (Hope?) This Year Would Be Different?

less than 3 weeks away.... For the luddites amongst us, double click on the video to make it bigger; listen through headphones (loud) if you've got them.  Get ready.  I'm not

Why Are You Guys All #6?





In the beginning (1976), there was STAN.  The softball team.  Where everyone wore red shirts with

STAN on the front and the number 6 on the back. 

 

Invariably, and by that I mean every single time we played a game, some

knucklehead from the opposing squad would ask two questions:

 

1.  Which one of you is Stan?

and

2. Why are you all #6?

 

 

And now, nearly 37 years on, the St. Louis Blues of the NHL

have channeled The Apartment

 

 

So, notwithstanding the universal awareness of Stan in St. Louis, if you

 listen closely you can almost hear one fan turning to another and asking

"Which one is Musial?"

and

"Why are they all #6?"

The Handicap Watch

With a mere 36 days until the first ball is struck at AI-XVII, it is time to take a look at the current state of the players' games.  As always, three of the four players have managed to secure an actual USGA handicap, while one who shall not be mentioned but whose initials are GB and who is a statistician no less, relies not on data but on a feeling in much the same way as climate change deniers.

Herewith the current USGA handicap index ratings:

PAZE:             4.6
MFB:            10.2
HEIMSCH:  10.6  (up from 7.9 as recently as 12/15 - coincidence?)
GORDON:      ??