Author Archives: Jeff Pearlman

The Quaz Turns 100

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In case you don’t know (or—egad!—don’t care), I do something on this site called The Quaz. It’s a weekly Q&A with someone from sports or politics or music or theatre or, well, anything. The segment began on March 23, 2011, when a woman named Wendy Hagen, perhaps best known as one of Kevin Arnold’s girlfriends on the Wonder Years, agreed to indulge me and answer 10 questions. The following week I reached out to Chris Burgess, a Facebook pal who played college hoops at Duke and Utah before engaging upon a European career. He, too, indulged me.

What ensued from there was a project that us, unexpectedly, become one of the great joys of my life: Myriad people of myriad talents taking the time to engage. Most of the Q&As have been done via e-mail. A couple (two or three) were conducted via phone. The next one took place in person.

On Thursday, I’ll be running the 100th Quaz—a number I never even thought of reaching. N-e-v-e-r.

In celebration of the milestone, here’s a sampling of some of my favorite answers from the always quirky, usually entertaining Express section at the end of every interview. And I can’t thank y’all enough for reading, and suggesting interview subjects. Please continue to do so, by e-mailing me at anngold22@gmail.com. The goal has never been to do Q&As with the super-famous. The goal has been to do Q&As with the super-interesting. Those two categories are far from one and the same …

Tommy Shaw, Styx guitarist

• Ever Think You were About to Die in a Plane Crash? If yes, what do you recall: We were on a plane with the Atlanta Rhythm Section way back when.  We hit the worst turbulence I have ever experienced, kind of like the scene in Almost Famous where the drummer spilled the beans a little too much.  I looked behind me and a couple of the ARS guys had bottles of Crown Royal turned up. The flight attendant spilled an entire tray of Cokes on ice on Chuck Panozzo. I’m actually on a plane right now as I write this answer and I’m laughing my ass off recalling that image. Ha!

Tom Verducci, Sports Illustrated

• Did Albert Belle intimidate you? Why or why not?: No. Seriously, what was he going to do? Punch me? Maybe it’s because an Indians official once told me a story (true or not) that Belle thought Italians carried luck and he would have one of the equipment managers, who was Italian, walk around the clubhouse clicking two of his bats together to bring him luck.

Steve James, Hoop Dreams Director

• Biggest career regret: Consenting to long internet interviews.

C.J. Nitkowski, former Major League Pitcher

• Would you rather eat 40 nuggets of snot from the nose of Colter Bean or have to streak naked across Yankee Stadium before Game 1 of the World Series?: Tough call, one would make me throw up, the other would make 50,000 fans plus media and field staff throw up. I’ll streak.

John Backderf, Cartoonist

• Four details from the worst date you ever had?: Bad Chicago-style pizza. A near-empty dance club in Columbus, Ohio. Home by 10. She started dating one of my friends the next day.

Katie Hnida, First Woman to Score in Division I Football

• Ever thought you were about to die in a plane crash? If so, what do you recall?: Only once and it was because someone had some seriously noxious gas. I was sure we were all going to suffocate. I remember thinking that if I got out I should write a movie called “Farts on a Plane”—could be more scarier than “Snakes on a Plane.”

Drew Magary, Writer

• Why are people so fascinated by the fucking Kardashians? And can you make them go away?: They’ve managed to make themselves the sort of catchall brand for talentless people, so they’re the go-to talking point on the topic. Also, men find Kim attractive, even though she’s gotten a lot of facelifts now and she’s fading fast.

Rocky Suhayda, Chairman of the American Nazi Party

• You have to eat either a taco, an egg roll or a bowl of Matzah ball soup. Which do you choose?: I’ve never had “Matzah ball soup”, but if I was hungry—who cares? I grew up poor … you ever try and eat “pig’s feet”, because they were cheap?

Alexcia James, Miss Black Iowa

• Would you rather date a guy with perpetual tuna fish breath or a pack-day smoker?: Hmm, hard decision because I hate both. I think I’m gonna go with tuna fish breath because you’re killing yourself with the toxins from cigarettes. Plus, I can start keeping a pack of gum in my purse.

Bruce Kulick, KISS guitarist

• Celine Dion calls—offers you $3 million annually to be the lead guitarist in her Vegas show. However, you have to work 360 days per year and dress in a pink evening gown. You in?: Could it be a purple one? If so, I’m in.

Frank Zaccheo, MS sufferer

• What the hell is an Italian kid from Mahopac doing on J-Date?: Why are you asking? Do you have problem with Jewish girls? By the way, you mean What the hell was an Italian kid from Mahopac doing on J-Date? I’m no longer on there since I met my awesome Jewish girlfriend Robin! She is an amazing!

Meeno Peluce, Photographer/Child Actor

• Better show—A-Team or Silver Spoons: Who fucking cares? Sit-coms post The Jeffersons generally suck, but when offered the panacea of the A-Team you realize why TV really is the deadening opiate of anything great America may aspire to. Hell of a lot of fun to shoot that A-Team nonsense though [Jeff's note: Watch Meeno and Mr. T right here]. And lest it be forgotten, Joel Higgins was my father first in Best of The West before he was Ricky Schroder’s.

Wendy Hagen, Child Actress

• $10 million or you never have to go to the bathroom again: $10 million for sure. The bathroom is not so bad. With the exception of outhouses—I would not swim in one for ten mill.

Jemele Hill, ESPN

• Your favorite Emmanuel Lewis moment:: Watching Michael Jackson carry him around like a Tickle Me Elmo doll. Why did we not think it was strange that Michael Jackson was bouncing another grown man on his hip?

Scott Barnhardt, Actor, Book of Mormon

• Ron Guidry, Tommy John or Larry Gura?: You’re asking a gay musical theater actor this question … so I, in turn, asked my straight friend … he says Tommy John. I’m going with Tommy John. (And this is why I am the “secretary” for The Book Of Mormon Broadway Softball Team … I can keep scores and stats like nobody’s business.)

Dan Riehl, Conservative Blogger

• You cried during the recent Sarah Palin film. Explain why. And does this make you a wuss?: While I don’t perceive Palin as weak or in need of defending, a portion of her image as the GOP VP nominee was innocent, or pure, if you will. Here was this female governor no one basically knew thrust onto the national stage over night. It was the ugly, vile and even vulgar, relentless attacks spat her way that made me cry. It was the broader concept, or image that got to me. It could have just as easily been a child, or even a small animal cast in the role of the innocent. When I see innocence attacked so viciously I become very angry. My tears flowed from that, not so much from sympathy for her as an individual. She remained strong through the whole thing.

Michael Shermer, Professional Skeptic

• Who wins in a fight: Santa Claus vs. Big Foot?: Oh, no question, Big Foot would kick Santa’s butt. He’d kick ass on The Rock and Hulk Hogan combined. Only Andre the Giant stands a chance against Big Foot.

Jenny DeMilo, Professional Escort

• Your Amazon wish list includes a $2,325 electric guitar. A. How long have you been playing? B. Will someone REALLY buy that for you?: That’s not just a guitar—that’s Gretsch Sparkle Jet, first introduced in 1954! I play badly and have played badly for years. The porn stars get more wish list gifts, but you never know. It could happen. A girl can dream.

L.Z. Granderson, Openly Gay Sports Journalist

J.P.: When it comes to gays, what do you think people are afraid of? What I mean is, many athletes don’t want gays in the locker room with them? But, why? Like, what do you think fosters that fear?

L.Z.G.: Misogyny. They’re afraid gay men are going to start looking at and talking about them in the same manner they look at and talk about women and it scares the shit out of them. The thought of being naked and being viewed by another man in such a carnal, dominating way is unnerving. It threatens their sense of manhood because they’ve equated manhood with who they sleep with. In actuality sleeping with women just makes you a heterosexual male. Society has a lot of heterosexual males who are very far from being a man. And we have a lot of homosexual males who are the epitome of manhood– tough, disciplined, responsible, strong.

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Full Circle

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Back when I was a student at the University of Delaware, I worked as sports editor—then, as a senior, editor in chief—of the student newspaper, The Review.

At the time, Delaware was the little journalism program that could. Journalism was neither a major nor minor at the college. We had, I believe, four full-time professors, as well as an adjunct, Bill Fleischman, who was a longtime star at the Philadelphia Daily News. Yet, despite facilities and depth that would be laughingstocks at schools like Missouri and North Carolina and Syracuse, we routinely popped out one of the most decorated college publications in the country.

For many on staff, the motivation was landing a job.

For others, it was the power of the pen in offering a voice.

For me, it was Mike Freeman.

Six years before I came along, Mike has been sports editor, then editor, of The Review. By the time I arrived, he was covering the Nets and (later) Giants for the New York Times. He was exactly who and what I wanted to be. So how’d I respond? By reading everything Mike Freeman. Everything he once wrote at The Review (we had yellowed bound versions on a shelf in the office). Everything he wrote at the Times. I’d study his transitions, his word choices, his style. When he came to Fleischman’s class as a guest speaker, I hung on every word, and later sent him my clips to review (which he kindly did).

Truly, I can’t understate the importance of Mike Freeman upon my career. He displayed for me what was possible, even for someone coming from a small, unknown program like ours.

•

I bring this all up because, a few weeks ago, I was asked to return as a panelist for another Cali taping of Jim Rome’s excellent show. It’s something I always enjoy doing, and I jump at the opportunity. When I inquired into who I’d be paired with, the producer wrote back, “Mike Freeman.”

Mike Freeman!

I’ve now known Mike for many years. He’s someone who’s been helpful throughout my career; someone who kindly blurbed one of my books; who’s always been kind and helpful and available. We’re peers. Colleagues.

Still, in a way, I remain that college kid, excited to be sitting alongside the guy who blazed the path for Blue Hen sports writers.

It feels as if it’s all come full circle.

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Chris Broussard is embarrassing himself

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Guts.

Back during the Civil Rights era, certain ignorant tools became well known for their nonstop opposition of equality. Even today, a half-century later, the names roll off the tongue like chunks of bitter herbs.

George Wallace.

Bull Connor.

Justice Jim Johnson.

Strom Thurmond.

Ross Barnett.

On and on and on the list goes—men whose words and deeds at the time have left generations of contemporaries and ancestors to try and protect any lingering morsels of what once was, perhaps, a good name.

Because he is but a loud, annoying sports commentator, ESPN’s Chris Broussard cannot be grouped with the likes of the above men, all of whom possessed genuine power to, oh, block the entrance to a university or, say, spray down protesters with fire hoses. With his voice and his network gig, however, Broussard (known, without merit, as an NBA “insider”) can speak authoritatively, and have people take his opinions to heart. When he says Dwight Howard should stay in Los Angeles, folks listen. When he says the Knicks can’t hang with the Heat, folks listen.

When he says gays are immoral sinners who can’t call themselves real Christians, well, folks listen.

This is pretty much what happened today, when ESPN—the network famous for loving powerful opinions until those powerful opinions turn embarrassing—allowed Broussard to appear on the nation’s television screens and say, um, this …

For the record, I’m a fan of freedom of speech. Chris Broussard is certainly entitled to his opinions, and if ESPN wants him to state them, well, mazel tov!

I too, however, am entitled to my opinion—and my opinion is that Broussard is a moron. On a day when the first openly gay active American athlete (from a team sport) courageously comes out of the closet, Broussard reacts by … giving us a lecture on homosexuality and sinfulness? Really? Not a lecture on courage, or guts, or what surely must have been a tough decision—but sinfulness? Really?

In journalism, there’s an old-school rule that all the good ones try to follow: Report what you know to be true. Not what you think is true, not what you believe to be true, not what the Bible tells you is true. What. You. KNOW. Is. True. Guys like Chris Broussard do not know that God hates gays. Hell, guys like Chris Broussard do not even know—with 100-percent certainty—that God exists. He thinks he knows. He’s pretty sure he knows. But the same can be said of Jews; of Muslims; of Hindus; of atheists; of hundreds of other religions. The truth is, no one can be completely certain, unless he’s delusional or drugged.

So, minus certainty, how can one go on national television and—on a day of something monumental (whether you support Collins or not)—tell us being gay is wrong, and Collins is a sinner?

Personally speaking, I don’t believe in God. However, if He does exist, here are a couple of things I’m guessing to be true:

1. He wouldn’t create gays to hate gays.

2. He wouldn’t love the idea of one of His so-called followers going on TV to judge another.

3. He would admire courage; Jason Collins-esque courage.

As I do.

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A Teacher Fades Away …

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Today was my final class as an adjunct journalism teacher at Manhattanville College.

I always complete the semesters by throwing my students an in-class pizza-and-a-journalism-movie fiesta, so today we watched Almost Famous over a couple of slices. The film, if you’ve never seen it, is tremendous. Really, one of my, oh, 20 all-time favorites. However, I wasn’t especially focused on the cinematic events. No, my thoughts were on my class and, really, my time at Manhattanville.

Despite all the drama over being dumped as the college newspaper adviser (in case you missed this, here’s the link to my all-time most-read post—120,000 views and counting), and despite having some real differences with the administration’s approach to teaching journalism, I love Manhattanville College. I mean, I really love it. I can’t think of a time when I didn’t leave class in a better mood than when I arrived. I can’t think of a student I genuinely disliked, or a moment that made me say, “God, I hate teaching!”

Truth be told—I love teaching. I really do, and Manhattanville is the place that offered me a first shot. So any bitterness (and, certainly, there is bitterness) is gradually being replaced by warm memories and happy thoughts.

That being said … I’ve learned a lot over these past three years, on journalism and its role on college campuses.

At most of America’s large colleges and universities, there’s an understanding between the administration and the student media. There will be full coverage and it will (at times) be painful. Why does the school go along? Because the college newspaper is an important learning tool for future journalists; one that (students being students) will not always be utilized to perfection. The payoff for the school: A. A great newspaper that interests myriad students; B. Oft big-name faculty members who are regularly published authors and/or journalists; B. Future professionals in a potentially high-visibility field. Larry King, Tom Brokaw, Matt Lauer, Michael Lewis, Mike Lupica, Stuart Scott, Jon Wertheim, Joe Posnanski, etc … etc—all college graduates.

Great.

Unfortunately, many smaller schools don’t see things this way. At a time when enrollment—across the board—is down and finances are down the toilet, administrators at places like Manhattanville worry about a negative message poisoning a proactive PR effort. How does it look, they surely think, to have a snazzy website highlighting all of a school’s perks—but a newspaper damning the place to hell? What, for the college, is the gain?

I get that thinking. I really do.

The gain is this: Education. Strong education. Righteous education. Doing what it is you’re supposed to be doing—matching up the highest-quality teachers with a student body anxious to learn. It’s about making sure students get full value for their education; about making sure you’re not doing things primarily for the good of the college, but for the good of the college’s students.

I’m not saying I’m the best teacher. Or the best adviser. Tonight, as the movie wrapped and the lights were turned on, I tried speaking to my students about passion and hard work and dedication and dreams … but couldn’t. My voice cracked. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes. The words stumbled around. “It’s been …” I said, “… an honor to have you all here. A real honor.”

The end.

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The Quaz Q&A: Wendel Meldrum

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* Welcome to the 99th installment of The Quaz Q&A. This feature—a question-and-answer session with a person from sports/entertainment/politics/whatever—will appear every week on jeffpearlman.com. If you have any suggestions/ideas for people to speak with, hit me up at anngold22@gmail.com. I’m listening.

I’m a fan of full circles.

What I mean is, I like when things complete themselves; when connections are made; when something begins a certain way, then comes back around. For example, the final scene in the final episode of Newhart.

This is not, technically, the final scene in the final episode of anything. It is, however, the 99th Quaz—one away from the big 100—and I wanted to make some sort of connection to the first-ever entry, which featured actress Wendy Hagen from the Wonder Years. Hence, today’s interviewee is Wendel Meldrum from—drumroll—the Wonder Years. If you were a fan of the show, you’ll know her as Miss White, Kevin Arnold’s sexy teacher. If that doesn’t ring a bell, she was also the “Low Talker” on Seinfeld.

Wendel’s acting career has actually been a marvelous run of this and that and that and this, including four seasons on the HBO Canada series, “Less Than Kind.” Here, Wendel discusses being a woman named Wendel; what she remembers of her time with the Arnolds and how she perfected one of the best cameos in Seinfeld history.

One can visit Wendel’s website here. Wendel Meldrum, you are officially the 99th Quaz …

JEFF PEARLMAN: Wendel, I’ve never started out an interview with such a question, but, hey, such is life. In my life, I’ve probably met three Wendels, and they’ve all been men.  Your name is Wendel Meldrum. Uh … please explain …

WENDEL MELDRUM: My name is Wendel Anne Meldrum and Wendel is a family name that lives on as best it can in my family of three girls.

J.P.:  The reason I contacted you is because my kids and I are heavy into Wonder Years re-runs, and you played Miss White, Kevin’s sexy teacher, in seven episodes. How did you land the Wonder Years gig? What do you recall of the experience? And how difficult is character development when you’re only said character a handful of times? Hell, is it even possible?

W.M.: I was doing a series called ‘The Pursuit of Happiness’ with Paul Provenza and from that work I was offered the part of Miss White. I don’t think it was meant to go on more than two episodes. The first incarnation of Miss White she was sporting a snug beehive and I believe a boldly striped shift dress. Her next outing was a softer hair style and a simpler outfit. As to character development, the character is full and developed from the first moment and just like in life, adjusts and grows according to different life experiences. The writing, cast and directing team were all seeking to capture such a lovely world that was guided and held to specifics by the most wonderful creative team of Carol Black and Neal Marlens.

The lovely Miss White—Kevin Arnold's dream.

J.P.: You’ve been in a Who’s Who of 80s TV shows—Punky Brewster, Cagney and Lacey, Family Ties, Knots Landing. Wendel, there’s a generation of kids—raised on reality TV—who wouldn’t understand 80s television for a second. Having been a player in the  genre at the time, how would you explain 1980s TV? Like, what was the mood? The goal? Was it a good era for the medium, or—in hindsight—a crappy one?

W.M.: Well, I’ve never given it any thought but I think just like any era there are varying levels of quality and longevity with the basic goal of connecting to people through laughter and storytelling. I suppose it offers a snapshot of a cultural reality—from those shoulder padded and big-haired fashions to what made people laugh in the 80′s. I do feel that comedy is a brilliant way to evolve human ideas. It can get us to laugh at ourselves and create a space to reflect and let go of modes of thought that might otherwise remain hidden and brooding. Comedy changes rapidly and I feel so lucky to have had a chance to be a small part of it over the years. I have been doing, what is now called a dramedy, for HBO Canada for the last five years called ‘Less Than Kind’ (it can be seen in the U.S. on Audience Direct TV) and it has been a thrilling challenge to play on the edges of drama and comedy. More please.

J.P.: In 1993 you famously played the Low Talker on Seinfeld—a character people in my life still refer to. What was the experience like? Are you naturally a low talker? And how often, even now, are you recognized for that character?

W.M.: I am not a low talker but I remember they were having trouble casting it. I did the audition sort of twirling my hair near my mouth to give a reason for sounding muffled. Larry David asked me to do it again without the twirl and it worked, I didn’t need it.

The Seinfeld cast seemed to be very grounded, very professional and worked very hard and efficiently to get out the best work possible. It was a joy to work on the show as there was this feeling that it was overseen with such laser care that you could relax and know that if it wasn’t working it would for sure get fixed. Recognized every once in awhile but not often.

As the low talker on Seinfeld.

J.P.: You recently celebrated your 55th birthday, and even though you look wonderful, 55 is 55. In day to day life, aging pretty much sucks. How about in the world of acting? How does it impact you? Your career? Do you think there are different aging standards for men than women?

W.M.: I am not a fan of statistics or spending time worrying. I have made two films of my own and keep on going exploring my own work. I have a booklet on the web called ‘Notes from the Undercarriage’ and a film, ‘Cruel But Necessary’ and am continuing in that direction. I want to continue playing interesting characters, exploring my craft and being part of telling stories. How or if that will happen, I have no idea. This time of my life is the most exciting and dynamic of all but culture doesn’t seem to tell you that so it’s a constant and wonderful surprise.

J.P.: I know you were born in Rome, I know you’re Canadian. But, Wendel, how did you find acting? Like, when  did you know it was something you wanted to do? When did you realize you were good at it? And what—specifically—is it about acting and performing that you love?

W.M.: I was a modern dancer and got into acting in the theatre through being in a dance company. I love having a job where you are completely invisible. Being an actor with your ‘being’ as your instrument is an unending discovery of what it is to be human within a variety of perspectives and circumstances. I love being part of a story, living a life that is not real as if it were.

J.P.: Greatest moment of your career? Lowest? 

W.M.: My best memories of my career are mostly of acting moments where I was ‘in the zone’. The lowest are, I suppose, when I was without much work for a while and raising my son on my own.

J.P.: Your son, Luke Humphrey, is 25 and also an actor. How did you feel about him following your career footsteps? I mean, you’ve certainly experienced some of the dark side of the biz, I’m guessing—irrational rejection, the search for physical perfection, etc, etc. Were you concerned? Did you ever say, “Just go to medical school!”

W.M.: Luke is a wonderful actor and seeing him step effortlessly into ‘Romeo’ at age 16 and live so heartfully inside the Bard’s words left me no choice but to encourage him to follow his passion. He has a BFA in acting from NYU and will be playing D’Artanyon in The Three Musketeers at Stratford this season as well as staring in a new contemporary play. He is a smart, kind, funny and inventive person who loves to learn and whatever this career holds for him I have every confidence he will meet the challenges giving them his best.

J.P.: My wife hates Los Angeles and refuses to consider moving there. You live in LA. Please, Wendel, make the sell here for me. Please …

W.M.: Well Jeff, there as many L.A.s as their are people in it. I raised my son here so there is a sweet feeling of home because of that. If you like the weather and can find a community you like it’s great. I have not been in the ‘industry’ part of things for the most part and am fine with that. I managed to raise my son here in a Waldorf school which has it’s own unique way of looking at children, learning and community without the L.A. plague of influence that people talk about. We live up in the hills so have a pretty incredible life in nature that is minutes away from urban facilities. As to convincing someone to move here, sorry, you are on your own with that one.

J.P.: Wendel, I’ve known a good number of actors and—to be 100% blunt and, perhaps, offensive—many irk the crap out of me. It’s that need to always be “on”; to always be the center of the room. Do you know what I mean? Am I making this up, or does that often come with the business? And how do you explain it?

W.M.: I’ve worked with many actors and have a couple as close friends. I really like actors and our job together is to play and connect which is very fun and endlessly mysterious. Your perspective is certainly valid. Maybe try playing with them next time as they are experts at it and opportunities to stretch ones play muscles don’t come often enough.

QUAZ EXPRESS WITH WENDEL MELDRUM:

• “Notes From the Undercarriage” blew my mind. Please explain: Wait. this is a quick response question? Eep! “Notes From the Undercarriage” is my booklet on the web that is a sort of graphic novel about the absurdity of being a woman on this planet. It’s ideas are the essence of my writing. I am so touched that you read it and thrilled that it ‘blew your mind.’

• Have you ever thought you were about to die in a plane crash? If so, details: Once, when traveling to London for my first time as a teenager. It was the middle of the night, lights were out and everyone was asleep. I was feeling the vulnerability of being over the ocean in a metal tube hammered together and strapped to an engine. I started to imagine that the screws were slowly unscrewing and got freaked out that I could make it happen if I kept imagining it. Stopped immediately.

• Five greatest actors of your lifetime: So many to choose from but off the top of my head these are five performances that I love—Anna Magnani (the Fugitive Kind), Al Pacino (Dog Day Afternoon), Jeff Weiss (‘Couple of Dykes’—theatre actor), Susan Tyrell (Fat City), Meryl Streep (Iron Lady).

• They’re doing a Wonder Years reunion, and they want you back to play Miss White—who’s now a homeless prostitute with a crystal meth addiction and a tattoo of Mike Tyson’s face across her forehead. They’ll pay $5,000 to do the episode—plus a free lifetime supply of dental floss. You in?: Sounds like a challenge I would look into—assuming the tattoo is temporary.

• In 1984 you played “Rita” on Vamping—your TV debut, I believe. Three things you recall from the experience: I loved the camera with it’s quiet nonjudgmental eye. I had many great conversations with the sound man who had done the sound on ‘Apocalypse Now.’ When we did a scene outdoors in the middle of winter, which played for summer, we put ice in our mouths before each take to cancel out the reality that you could see our breath. I was in a cocktail dress.

• Rank in order (favorite to least): Three’s Company, John Olerud, knitting, long walks on the beach, The Cable Guy, Leon Spinks, Stone Temple Pilots, Canadian bacon, Elvis Costello, candied yams, Ash Wednesday, the smell of raw shrimp, Burger King: The only things I am really familiar enough with to have an opinion is knitting and walks on the beach so walks on the beach and knitting.

• What happens when we die?: We will all find out.

• What’s more likely—Tupac is alive and working in a Gary, Indiana Burger King or aliens exist and will visit earth within the next week?: One is as likely as the other.

• Number of times a month you Google yourself: 0

• Where have all the bread makers gone?: Looking for a gluten free recipe that tastes good.

QUAZ EXPRESS WITH WENDEL MELDRUM:

Quaz 1: Wendy Hagen (Former child actress, The Wonder Years)
Quaz 2: Chris Burgess (Professional basketball player)
Quaz 3: Tommy Shaw (Singer/guitarist, Styx)
Quaz 4: Russ Ortiz (Former Major League pitcher)
Quaz 5: Don McPherson (Former NFL quarterback, feminist)
Quaz 6: Frank Zaccheo (MS activist)
Quaz 7: Geoff Rodkey (Daddy Daycare screenwriter, author)
Quaz 8: Meeno Peluce (Former child actor, Voyagers!) 
Quaz 9: Karl Mecklenburg (Former NFL linebacker)
Quaz 10: Amra-Faye Wright (Actress, Chicago)
Quaz 11: Phil Nevin (Former Major League slugger)
Quaz 12: Jemele Hill (Columnist and commentator, ESPN)
Quaz 13: Drew Snyder (Christian Minister)
Quaz 14: Roy Smalley (Former Major League shortstop)
Quaz 15: Michael Shermer (Professional skeptic)
Quaz 16: Kathy Wagner (Actress)
Quaz 17: Travis Warren (Lead singer, Blind Melon)
Quaz 18: Scott Barnhardt (Broadway actor from The Book of Mormon)
Quaz 19: Chris Jones (Writer/Author)
Quaz 20: Cindi Avila (Celebrity chef)
Quaz 21: Crystal McKellar (Former Wonder Years actress, attorney)
Quaz 22: Dan Riehl (Conservative blogger)
Quaz 23: Prime Minister Pete Nice (Rapper, baseball historian)
Quaz 24: Glen Graham (Drummer, Blind Melon)
Quaz 25: Dave Coverly (Nationally syndicated cartoonist)
Quaz 26: Marie Te Hapuku (Opera standout)
Quaz 27: Christian Delcroix (Broadway actor)
Quaz 28: Jack McDowell (Former Major League pitcher)
Quaz 29: Jake Black (Comic book writer, cancer survivor)
Quaz 30: Brian Johnson (Major League scout, former Giants catcher)
Quaz 31: Craig Salstein (Soloist, American Ballet Theatre)
Quaz 32: John Herzfeld (Hollywood director)
Quaz 33: Jenny DeMilo (Professional escort/erotic specialist)
Quaz 34: Tina Thompson (Longtime WNBA star)
Quaz 35: Seth Davis (Sports Illustrated writer, CBS basketball analyst)
Quaz 36: Dave Fleming (Former Major League pitcher)
Quaz 37: Mike Sharp (Former world-class cyclist, accident victim)
Quaz 38: Kathleen Osgood (Blogger, cancer survivor)
Quaz 39: Gabriel Aldort (Street musician, New York City)
Quaz 40: Lennie Friedman (Former NFL offensive lineman)
Quaz 41: Rick Arzt (Lead singer, Love Seed Mama Jump)
Quaz 42: Sean Salisbury (Former NFL QB and commentator)
Quaz 43: Mac Lethal (Rapper)
Quaz 44: Cord McCoy (Professional Rodeo star)
Quaz 45: Cameron Mills (Pastor, former Kentucky basketball star)
Quaz 46: Jim Abbott (One-handed former Major League pitcher)
Quaz 47: Alison Cimmet (Broadway and commercial actress)
Quaz 48: Linda Ensor (Tea Party activist)
Quaz 49: L.Z. Granderson (ESPN and CNN columnist)
Quaz 50: Gina Girolamo (Television executive)
Quaz 51: Lenny Krayzelburg (Former Olympic swimmer)
Quaz 52: Shawn Green (Former Major League All-Star)
Quaz 53: Ashley Poole (Singer, former member of Dream)
Quaz 54: Scott Jurek (World-class ultra-runner)
Quaz 55: Rocky Suhayda (Leader, National KKK Party)
Quaz 56: Liz Scott (Executive director, Alex’s Lemonade Stand)
Quaz 57: Lindsay McCormick (Sports television personality)
Quaz 58: Jack McCallum (Author, “Dream Team.”)
Quaz 59: Nelson Dellis (Two-time U.S. Memory Champ)
Quaz 60: Wayne Wilentz (Jazz musician)
Quaz 61: Bev Oden (Olympic volleyball player)
Quaz 62: Amy Hastings (Olympic runner)
Quaz 63: Drew Magary (Writer)
Quaz 64: Shannon Bex (Singer, former Danity Kane member)
Quaz 65: Adam Schefter (ESPN NFL Insider)
Quaz 66: John Oates (Hall & Oates)
Quaz 67: Brandon Steiner (Sports memorabilia guru)
Quaz 68: Steve James (Director, Hoop Dreams and Head Games)
Quaz 69: Doug Glanville (Former Major League outfielder; ESPN analyst)
Quaz 70: Nathan Osmond (Country singer)
Quaz 71: Daniel Okrent (Journalist)
Quaz 72: Dmitriy Salita (Boxer)
Quaz 73: C.J. Nitkowski (Major League pitcher)
Quaz 74: Dawn Neufeld (TV Personality; NFL Wife)
Quaz 75: John Wesley Harding (Singer, Author)
Quaz 76: DJ White Owl (Rapper, DJ)
Quaz 77: Dirk Hayhurst (Baseball player, author)
Quaz 78: Marty Appel (Former Yankees PR Director, author)
Quaz 79: Lisa Edwards (Famed Dog Trainer)
Quaz 80: Fred Claire (Former Los Angeles Dodgers GM)
Quaz 81: Paul Ercolino (Gun Control Activist)
Quaz 82: Amy Freeze (ABC Meteorologist, on-air personality)
Quaz 83: Tom Verducci (Sports Illustrated baseball writer)
Quaz 84: Dirk Blocker (Character actor, Little House standout)
Quaz 85: John Backderf (Cartoonist, author)
Quaz 86: Brittanie Weaver (Model, actress)
Quaz 87: Jim Colletto (Retired NFL and college football coach)
Quaz 88: Skee-Lo (Rapper)
Quaz 89: Ryan Semple (Olympic Skier)
Quaz 90: Tatiana Thumbtzen (Model, Michael Jackson Muse)
Quaz 91: Pete Babcock (Former NBA General Manager)
Quaz 92: Katie Hnida (Kicker/Pioneer/Motivational Speaker)
Quaz 93: Eric Hutchinson (Singer/Songwriter)
Quaz 94: Alexcia James (Miss Black Iowa)
Quaz 95: Bruce Kulick (Former KISS guitarist)
Quaz 96: Kevin Mench (Former MLB slugger)
Quaz 97: Ron Shaich (Panera Bread Founder)
Quaz 98: Jenn Sterger (Actress)
Quaz 99: Wendel Meldrum (Actress, Miss White on Wonder Years)
•
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Stair. Master.

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For the majority of my first 39 years, I was a distance runner. Along with the 11 marathons and one season of (mediocre) track and cross country at Delaware, I just … ran. Road races. Trail jogs. Jog to town, pick up a newspaper, jog back. Miles and miles and miles and miles.

Then, last year, my back started dying. I’ve got disc problems, degeneration, etc …

Now—without having run in a year—I’m getting closer and closer to being in the best shape of my adulthood. How? Two awful words: Stair. Master.

I’m all about that damn machine these days—usually four-to-six days per week. Why? A. Because, at the nearby gym, it’s always available. B. Because it’s accompanied by a TV to distract the ensuing hell. C. Because it burns gazillions of calories. D. Because it doesn’t impact my back.

Man, I hate the Stairmaster, while simultaneously loving the Stairmaster. I come back drained, coated in sweat, needing the bed—yet also happy and relieved and, well, skinnier. A few weeks ago, in a moment of pure dread, I stepped on the scale and weighed 204. I’m 6-foot-2, but … 204? What the hell? This morning: 194.

Stair. Master.

 

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A.J. Clemente

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In case you haven’t seen this, a rookie TV anchor named A.J. Clemente made one of the worst debuts in modern television history the other day. Here, take a look …

This was bad. I mean, really awful. Deadspin, of course, blew the thing up (as it certainly should have), and before long A.J. Clemente’s gaffe—initially only heard by KFYR viewers in North Dakota was soaring across the Internet. Twitter. Facebook. Blogs. Within 10 hours of uttering the now-infamous, “fucking shit” to the networks’ 23 viewers, he was everywhere.

Then, the station (understandably) suspended him.

Today, he was fired.

To say this disgusts me is no understatement. I’m guessing Clemente is 23 … maybe 24. He’s new to the business, and he made a bad mistake. However, nobody’s ears fell off; no one collapsed and died at the mention of strung-together curse words. In Boston, David Ortiz was celebrated for saying “fucking”—and rightly so. Meanwhile, Clemente—green, overwhelmed, clearly scared—was on the unemployment line.

To be honest, this hits close to home. When I began my career with The Tennessean in 1994 I was a fuck-up machine. You can read about the details here, but it doesn’t come close to telling the whole story. Within a span of, oh, two years, I probably misspelled 30 names. I asked a chef whether he’d ever cooked human flesh. I lost an expensive police scanner. I infuriated a major advertiser. I mangled one date after another. I led a story with, “All John Smith wanted was a blowjob.” I ignored the advice of co-workers and my bosses. I was the worst, worst, worst reporter in America—and it wasn’t a close competition.

And yet, I had editors who were willing to stick with me; who didn’t feel the need to turn me into a sacrificial lamb; who knew that—were I to be fired—I would never recover. Youth comes with problems. Inexperience can only be compensated by experience. Mistakes are the key device for learning how not to make them. You screw up, you recover, you don’t make the same screw-up again.

I assure you, A.J. Clemente will never utter the phrase “fucking shit” on air again.

Sadly, KFYR was too cowardly to give him a chance at redemption.

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Twenty years ago …

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I turn 41 today. That means 20 years ago I was celebrating my 21st birthday.

Despite two decades passing by, I actually recall this one quite well. I had a roommate, Scott, whose 21st birthday had been a few days earlier. So we celebrated by visiting the famed Stone Balloon in Newark, Delaware and doing shots. Lots and lots and lots of shots. I actually sorta liked shots, in that they were quick and impactful and (relatively) tasty—depending on the genre. Truth be told, I also liked how they: A) Decimated all inhibitions; B) Made me believe I looked like Tom Cruise; C. Turned all women into Halle Berry.

What I didn’t like, however, was the inevitable post-multiple-shots decaying. It would begin with burping. A strange, disconcerting grumbling in my stomach always followed. Then, I’d excuse myself, find the nearest toilet and vomit my brains out.

On this night, however, I was already outside the bar when judgement day came upon me. I stood in a paved parking lot and puked repeatedly and forcefully into a puddle. It was, to be blunt, awful.

It’s funny, actually, how we always look back upon college with such glowing vision. Yes, it was an interesting time of discovery, and yes, there were some outstanding moments. Late-night basketball outside the Christiana Towers. Writing for The Review. Hooking up in the basement of Pi Lambda Phi, where my pal was a member. On and on and on—warm memories, funny memories. In seven hours, however, I’ll be waking up alongside my wife, with my two beautiful children bellowing, “Happy birthday, Daddy!”

I don’t love the sound of “41.”

But it sure beats vomiting.

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41

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I turn 41 tomorrow. Which is halfway to 82. Which is halfway to really, really dead.

I digress.

Forty-one is a remarkably unremarkable number. If 40 was Halle Berry, 41 is my great aunt. It’s just sorta meh, blah, whatever, yawn, ho-hum. I actually hated turning 40, because it meant I was not only old in the eyes of younger people, but, well, old. Forty-one, however, is no different than 40. It’s less remarkable, sure, but doesn’t bump me to a new level of seniority. “He’s a 40-year-old guy” and “He’s a 41-year-old guy” sound almost exactly alike. Again, ho-hum.

And yet, 41 is also a gift, and the more I remember that, the better off I am. Earlier this week, three people died on the day of the Boston Marathon. One was an 8-year-old boy who will never fall in love, never graduate college, never know what it is to see the world or taste amazingly amazingly amazing ice cream or watch his child enter the world. How can I, at 41, complain? I have a wife who dazzles me, kids who dazzle me, a job I cherish. The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming.

I am, arguably, the most blessed man in the world.

Forty one? Hell, yes.

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42

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Went to see 42 earlier this afternoon.

Really wanted to like it.

Didn’t.

Oh, the film was fine. The nostalgia was done very well—old ballparks, classic uniforms, funky broadcaster lines. The baseball scenes were, mostly, excellent.

Yet 42′s demise is the demise of so many other sports movies: Cheese.

Man, was this film coated in cheese. Mounds upon mounds of cheese. Swiss. Cheddar. American. The type of cheese that shows Robinson, upon hitting home runs, standing at home plate to admire the flight of the ball (an act that, back in the 1940s, would have damned him to an eternity of fastballs to the head—be he white or black). The type of cheese that pipes in (dun-dun-dun!!) music every time someone breaks into a monologue. The type of cheese that makes every movement dramatic, every gesture dramatic, every word dramatic.

God, this was cheesy. Or, as the wife said afterward, very “Disney.” It sorta made me think of the two genres of Batman movies. There’s the Michael Keaton Batman, who’s quite serious at times, but is also quirky and fun. And there’s the Christian Bale Batman—a dark badass who doesn’t take shit. In 42, Robinson is Keaton. This is a film that, really, should have been dark and serious and even a bit somber. Instead, it was goofy and overly dramatic.

The moment that most irked me was when Pee Wee Reese, the Dodgers’ shortstop. wraps his arm around Robinson. This did, indeed, happen in real life, but for a fleeting moment; one that neither man considered to be monumental. In 42, though, the arm wrap changes everything. It’s a statement; a powerful spectacle; an ode to defiance. It’s also accompanied by one of the dumbest lines ever, something about Reese telling Robinson that, hey, maybe one day we’ll all wear your number.

Cheese.

Why does this all irk me? Because the story is friggin’ fantastic sans embellishment. Robinson is a hero. A pioneer. An icon. There’s no need to lie and exaggerate and BS the viewers; no reason to tell us he was never caught stealing as a rookie when, in fact, he was caught 11 times.

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