Suited

I've always heard that one of the greatest deals I am missing out on during my visits to China is getting my own tailor made suit. Fortunately, I had a tip from a co-worker on a place at Silk Street so I decided to get the wheels in motion towards getting some fancy duds at a fraction of the price it would cost me back home.

Its actually pretty sweet. You pick the fabric, the design, the cut and they sew it for you in one day I believe. It'll probably cost me $130. Not bad at all. Yesterday, I went through the motions to figure out what I wanted and will return sometime this week to do all the measurements and stuff.

Imagine my surprise when upon entering the shop, I saw pictures on the wall of America's favorite injury faking NBA champ Paul Pierce and the round mound of rebound, Charles Barkley with the sales ladies. Its a good thing Pierce and Chuck found this place, I have no idea how they could afford normal suits at the salaries they make. Actually, for Barkley this might make sense. Dude could be broker than I am due to his gambling losses. So next time, you're watching Inside the NBA on TNT, know that Barkley may not actually be wearing a Gucci or Armani suit after all. No idea where he gets his beloved mock turtlenecks...probably Wal-Mart.

Five Ring Circus

I am here in Beijing once again, but this time I am here for the next 7 weeks, which will mean some Olympics overlap as well as the run-up to the Games which should provide some interesting anecdotes I would think.

Accessing this blog has proven to be quite difficult and though I may have found a work around, I'm not sure how effective my posting will be or if I will be able to attach photos. We'll see I guess. Speaking of seeing, I am writing this from my 19th floor office and have a great view of Jianguomen dajie, a main drag that cuts across the city. The visibility is at an all-time low. The smog and fog are ultra-thick, and I have yet to see blue skies since my arrival on Monday morning. If they plan on tweaking the weather somehow for the Olympics, they should probably start now.

The most noticable difference of this visit versus my others has been that Beijing certainly has put on its best face this time around. The freeway leading to the airport is stradled with manicured mini-gardens and trees, which were never here before, and they are way more signs in English than before. Most of them point you towards various Olympic venues. There are also crossing guards at a major intersection near my hotel. It the past it was pedestrian mayhem. This time there is more of an illusion of control.

Unfortunately, they have also apparently tried to clean up the black market and have shut down a number of bootleg DVD outposts and street vendors, which is a bummer. Fortunately, I knew of a couple of places that were still in business, so my jones was filled.

More soon.

Remembering the AlamoDome

It has been two weeks since my trip to San Antonio for the 2008 Final Four and I feel I am now ready to go public with my thoughts. First of all, I have to acknowledge Greg, Derek, and Francis that joined me for a memorable weekend adventure that was filled with more good times and bad times than I can remember. Despite the unfortunate game results, upon reflection this was a fantastic weekend during a time in life where such “old boy” or “bro” weekends have become few and far between.

Now my reflections…I don’t think I have been filled with as much nervous excitement as I was on the trip to Texas two weeks ago. (It must be noted that I attended UCLA’s last title run in 1995, so the idea of actually going to the Final Four was not overwhelming in itself. Also, this happened while I was a college student during the 1990s where I think grunge music and high levels of THC coursing through my body numbed me from the most natural of human emotion— outward excitement.) My trip took two legs, Oakland to Phoenix; Phoenix to Austin. The Phoenix airport was a sight to behold for Bruin Nation. I texted a few people back home with the note, “PHX airport is like Westwood Southwest.” It was unbelievable. Powder blue and gold everywhere you look. The airport bar was electric with energy, chatter about game tickets being overhead, tales of Final Fours past exchanged, and of course the prospects of the Bruins hanging championship #12 in Pauley Pavilion being discussed (writing those words still fills me with disappointment and sadness. I guess I’m not over it.).

Fast forward to Saturday morning in San Antonio. After exchanging the Michael Scott-edition Chrysler LeBaron convertible for a more suitable rental ride, we made the one-hour trek from Austin to San Antonio, drove past the AlamoDome and the whole experience became very real. We had about two hours before tip-off and went to some pre-party that included free chicken wings, nachos, and tamales. Perhaps the first disappointment of the weekend occurred shortly thereafter. Suffice it to say, we were already a few beers in, but we realized that each school was having special parties and that we were basically hanging in the stable of the masses. Of course, we immediately tried to sneak in to the UCLA party to hang with fellow Bruins before the game for some much-needed pre-game hype. Not to be too self-serving, but I had no problem getting past the first layer of security, and Greg and I easily slid past the second checkpoint without problem. Entering the “exclusive” party space was similar to the scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy’s house lands after the tornado and she opens the door to reveal the Technicolor world of Munchkin land. Upon passing the security area, I was treated to visions of UCLA cheerleaders cavorting about, former UCLA football coach Terry Donahue chatting up some alums, beer and wine stations appearing in all corners of the room, food everywhere, and Tim Robbins cruising by. It was awesome. All I could say to Greg was, “this is more like it.”

In what can only be described as the ultimate foreshadowing of things to come, we were shortly tapped on the shoulder by a rent-a-cop asking to see our party passes. Unfotunately, one member of our quartet did not heed the ultimate mantra of acting like you belong there, got shaken down by security, and in an egregious error in party crashing dogma, wound up getting all of us kicked out by pinpointing us to security. Unbelievable. Until my last days on this Earth, I will always believe that had we remained at the party, the world would have been rotating normally and the Bruins would have emerged triumphant. Alas, it was not to be. To make matters worse, as we are going down the escalator feeling like chumps, we peer over to the adjacent escalator going up and see Ed O’Bannon, the 1995 tournament’s winner of the Most Outstanding Player award and the greatest UCLA player of our lives, heading to the party. Ugh.
(The whole of San Antonio was a basketball fan’s dream that weekend. Along with the obvious undercurrent of the games, tons of familiar basketball characters were milling around town. Throughout the weekend, we saw Hakeem Olajuwon, Rick Pitino, Lorenzo Romar, David Robinson (sitting 4 rows in front of us), Rex Walters, Scot Pollard, Tony Parker, Seth Greenberg, Pat Riley, Patrick Ewing, and Artis Gilmore. The scene was definitely set for some classic basketball.)

Then the game started. I prefer not to get too much into the details of the game itself since we got rolled over in the second half, but in brief— we could not hit an outside shot to save our life, our “All-American” point guard did nothing, and Memphis’ Derrick Rose and Chris Douglas-Roberts continually beat us off the dribble and scored tons of buckets. Painful to even reminisce. There was a 30-45 minute silent period following the loss where none of us uttered anything to one another. The combination of inebriated stupor, disappointment, and exhaustion from intensely rooting on the squad left me physically and mentally drained and I just stared off into space like I was back in high school physics class.

So that was it. The weekend for all intents and purposes was over. Even though we had a mellow Sunday and enjoyed a great national championship on Monday, the perfect weekend was over before it started. The curtain was pulled back and Oz did not turn out the way we imagined it to be.

With 30 years of fanatic experience in watching sports, I cannot remember a team that appeared as tailor-made for a championship run than the 2007-08 UCLA Bruins. This was their third straight Final Four, so the San Antonio experience would not be overwhelming for the coaching staff and squad. They earned a #1 seed in the West Region for the first time since the 1995 championship team. A couple of close, last second victories (with or without the help of some questionable refereeing) appeared to make them destiny’s choice to be champion. But one element that comes to mind whenever I reflect on this team will always be the presence of the Golden Child, freshman center Kevin Love. The impact this kid had on the team was unlike anything I had ever seen at UCLA and was very rare in the world of college basketball. All of the ESPN talking heads and journalists would gush about Love’s game and the platitudes were never over-stated. This guy was amazing. I could talk about his game and what he meant to this team for days but in brief, I and a majority of the Bruin faithful felt that there was no way we would lose this year with Kevin Love leading the way. Unfortunately, the magic simply ran out against Memphis and the wait continues for the 12th banner to be raised.

This brings me to the trip’s silver lining though. Anyone who reads this entry knows exactly where UCLA fandom resides on my priority lists of hobbies outside of grown-up life responsibilities. The weekend was meant to be a culmination of every reason why I am a faithful supporter of my alma mater and, similar to most things built up with anticipation (read: New Year’s Eve, movie blockbusters, network television), I was left disappointed. While we continued to have a good time throughout the weekend, the underlying current of disappointment could not be ignored. Now that I am about two weeks distanced from the Final Four weekend, I have a much better perspective on things.

In retrospect, the old adage from Arthur Ashe (UCLA alum) now rings especially true— “Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome.” The UCLA basketball program is perhaps the most cohesive fabric of my college experience, and continues to bring all of my close college friends together. When my buddy Rich and I discussed getting tickets for the early round tournament games in Anaheim, we knew to just buy the maximum allotment of eight, since we would have no problem finding takers. We all love Bruin basketball.
The Final Four weekend thus held a specific “once in a lifetime” feel and the four of us were able to enjoy great moments that only being friends for over 15 years can provide. This coupled with the barrage of calls and text messages from pals back in Cali wanting to catch some of the flavor of the event made the moment feel all the more special. Derek, who is married and has a daughter, acknowledged this point specifically. The opportunities for us all to get together like this have become more rare as the years quickly pass on. Families are growing, responsibilities are increasing, and free time is shrinking at an alarming rate. Maybe once or twice a year, all of the college mates get together, making this weekend even more unique.

It was clear that every college friend near a television was watching the UCLA-Memphis and cringing and cheering and hoping just like the four of us were inside the AlamoDome that afternoon. Looking back, there is still no place I would have rather seen the disappointing loss than with my buddies watching the game live. To me, it felt like the four of us were representing all of our great friends by being there live (thanks of course to Greg for securing the tickets). As I reflect back, the emotional ups and downs took a toll on us, but left me with a ton of memories and the hope that having these weekend trips with the guys will continue until we are pushing canes at the old folks home. That is the appropriate memory I hope to keep in the front of my mind whenever I recall the 2008 Final Four. Well, that and if James Keefe’s second half baseline 3-pointer goes in, instead of rattling out, we would have had a whole different ball game.

Fast Times Indeed

I just got back from a lunch with a consultant (we'll call him Terry) I worked with on a recent proposal during my trip to China last December. I asked a co-worker for a good recommendation of a nearby restaurant that would allow us room to talk and with good, well-priced food. She suggested Bocadillo's located on the corner of Washington and Montgomery in downtown SF.


We found a place in the corner by the bar and settled in for a fairly standard business lunch. Located just behind Terry's head on the wall was a flat screen TV playing the 1982 Amy Heckerling classic, Fast Times at Ridgemont High. The place was a pretty nice, tapas and wine type place and I thought that a movie playing in the background was odd, not to mention the choice of movie. Since it was behind Terry, I didn't bring this to his attention. Unfortunately, I was already distracted and my mind quickly wondered whether the infamous Phoebe Cates red bikini pool side scene would hit the screen during lunch and I would have to make the choice of commenting (my natural impulse) or keeping it to myself. Suffice it to say, I had a tough time updating Terry on the status of an in-factory training program for migrant workers in China knowing that one of the most famous cinematic nude scenes would be staring me in the face in all its high definition glory.


I am definitely getting older and more mature (arguably) as I held it together and was able to stay focused throughout the meal...so much so that I was able to almost forget that Jeff Spicoli was ordering pizza during Mr. Hand's algebra class a mere five feet away. Just as I paying for the check I happened to glance up and what do I see??....No, not the Phoebe Cates part, but the scene with Jennifer Jason Leigh completely buck naked after a romp with faux cool guy, Damone. I was caught off-guard by this as Fast Times is forever linked with Sean Penn and Phoebe Cates and not much else, so the JJ Leigh image was somewhat startling. I glanced around the room to see if anyone else was reacting, but nobody did. (I guess it takes more for the SF professional set to bat an eye. Let's not forget that this is the town that believes Barry Bonds' head expanding three sizes over the years is normal.) Again, my poker face remained as I was able to prevent myself from giggling like an eight-year-old. This may be the first time that I realized I may actually be an adult now, and maybe one of the only times when being older and thus quite versed in social settings can be seen as a positive. In any non-professional setting, Fast Times at Ridgemont High would have become the topic of conversation throughout lunch, so I was proud of myself for holding it together. I guess its pathetic really, but still amusing...at least to me.


Either way, Fast Times at Ridgemont High....GREAT MOVIE!

SoCal and So Clean

The blog hits the road again this weekend to visit the City of Angels. There may be no better time to escape the doldrums of the Bay Area rains and deep freeze. Unfortunately, LA's recent weather has only been slightly better which is a bummer. Among other things, the weather in Southern California is one my favorite features of the area, so having to wear a jacket at all times this weekend will surely be a drag.

The bright side is that it will be a reunion of sorts with my college mates as I have tickets to the UCLA- Arizona State game tonight and the UCLA- Arizona game on Saturday. I will spend more time in Westwood this weekend than I have since I moved away in 1997 (and all I have to show for it is black lung). The computer and camera are coming along, so I hope to provide as many up-to-the-minute updates as possible.

I also plan to settle the Writer's strike, babysit Britney's kids, and solve the traffic problem while I'm down there.

(Final Note: On Monday, I went out to dinner with the fellas and conversation shifted to the trainwreck that is Britney Spears. The dialogue surrounded the fact that if we didn't know she was Britney Spears and she walked into the bar we were at, would we even think she was attractive? Or even give her a double take? There was some thoughts one way or the other, but the fact that we were debating the issues reveals a few things: 1) nobody can have fun with mundane chatter like my friends and I, and 2) calling Britney a mess is the understatement of the decade.)

Ha's Turn to Tears

Hey kids! Its been a while, so let me start with a complete non-sequiter. I just paid $6 for a bowl of soup from some sandwich/soup joint down the street from the office. Quite a price to pay for a bowl of flavored water, but to somewhat quote Vinnie Vega from Pulp Fiction, “I’m not sure it’s worth $6, but it’s a damn good bowl of soup.” It’s Mexican Chicken Tortilla in case you were curious. OK. Back to the post…

This entry may actually be one of the more serious posts I’ve written.

At this point in life, I have come to realize there are only a few things I can actually rely on no matter what. For me, its Natalia, my family, my SF/LA/NY friends, and that’s about it. (On the negative side, I can also count on UCLA football disappointing me, the broads from The View annoying me, the cost of an SF home to always be out of my price range— but I digress.)

There was one other aspect of my fairly simple life that I have relied on for several years, but alas cannot count on it any longer. The object to which I am referring is actually an eatery. Perhaps my favorite eatery. An eatery that I have enjoyed since the late 1980’s. It is with great despair that I announce that Ha’s Chinese Restaurant located on 25th Ave. and Irving Street in the Sunset district of San Francisco is no longer in business.

Not quite the way I wanted to kick off 2008.

My love affair with Ha’s began when I started working at Chan’s Baseball Card shop in 1988. The guys at the shop were already quite fond of Ha’s when I was hired. For the 3 years I worked there, I would say that we ordered Ha’s for delivery at least twice a week. (Ha’s split time with Judah Café, a great greasy spoon down the street that knew us all by name. Unfortunately, Judah Café has also gone the way of the dinosaur.)

We all had our favorites. Ross would get kung pao beef with no peanuts, James would enjoy shrimp in black bean sauce, Khang was a fan of mongolian beef, and I absolutely adored their garlic sauce chicken wings (GCW). I have probably eaten thousands of Ha’s wings in my lifetime and my adoration of their wings was widely known. My family knew I loved them and a few years back, my buddy James actually gave me an order of GCW for X-Mas when he bought everyone their favorite things. Some received beers, bottles of Jameson, or Cokes, me….the wings. In an attempt at transparency, let the record show I also loved their beef chow fun, walnut prawns, green onion pancakes, and kung pao beef too.

When I left SF the first time for college, (and on every subsequent trip since), my return visits to SF were not complete unless I had an order of Ha’s. Even on my most recent trips to China, when I was sick of Chinese food by the time I left Beijing, I ordered Ha’s as one of my first meals. Ha’s was more than delicious sustenance. Ha’s was a sign of home. Located in my old neighborhood, chomping into their food let me know that I was home safely and everything was ok in the world. My friends and I ordered Ha’s for every fantasy baseball draft I ever participated in. I’ve spent many a lazy weekend watching movies or sports while eating Ha’s. Now my only real version of comfort food is gone.

I knew something was amiss when I gave them a call for a delivery last Sunday night. Busy signal all night long. Maybe they were closed for an extended holiday I thought, so I grabbed some eats elsewhere. I had an inkling at the time that maybe there was something more going on, but I quickly squashed this idea.

Then, Monday night at approximately 9:30pm, James gave me a call and just said, “unbelievable” when I picked up. We have been friends for over 25 years at this point so maybe it was just my familiarity with the tone of his voice that I immediately knew Ha’s was no more. James said he might give up Chinese food altogether and become a sushi connoisseur, but that was a joke…I think.

It might be fitting that my debut at Ha’s coincided with my injection into the absolute depths of baseball fandom, and now its closing mirrors the ridiculousness of the baseball dialogue this off-season which has consisted mostly of Mitchell reports, HGH, subpoenas, and steroids. Hardly a whimper in comparison about the Dodgers signing of Andruw Jones, or Billy Beane trading away the nucleus of the A’s for some prospects. It appears that the classic adage, all good things must come to an end, may be true whether in reference to the purity of America’s pastime or local Chinese cuisine.

Ha’s has left a void that may not be easily filled. There are rumors that Ha’s is only moving down the street to a new location, but I remain dubious. Fortunately, I have this forum and you readers to provide me with much-needed support during this difficult time.

(I recently finished reading Anthony Bourdain’s A Cook’s Tour, which may have contributed to the nostalgic remembrance of Ha’s, but I bet even Bourdain would have pangs for GCW if he ever would have had the pleasure.)

Thoughts on a Joe Torre Hiring

Since the Joe Torre rumors have begun, I have been asked by several friends about my opinions of the Dodgers hiring the former Yankee manager to run the Boys in Blue. My initial thought is whether Joe Torre is really as great a coach as the world makes him out to be. Yes, he did win 4 World Series in 5 years, but he did so with future Hall of Famers Roger Clemens (once), Derek Jeter, and Mariano Rivera on the roster. They also had a bunch of steady veterans including Paul O’Neill, Bernie Williams, Jorge Posada, and Tino Martinez. In other words, it was virtually a perfect storm with the right mix of pitching and clutch hitting and its unclear how large Joe Torre was in making them successful.

After that run, they made the playoffs each year but underachieved with the highest payroll in baseball. Again, its unclear whether Joe Torre had any input in compiling the rosters that included disastrous contracts to Jason Giambi, Carl Pavano, Johnny Damon, Jaret Wright, and Kei Igawa. All in all, I have no idea whether he’s a great manager or not.

Living in New York for three years during his stint as Yankee skipper, I can say that Joe Torre is masterful when it comes to handling the media. In a place where the local tabloid newspapers consider Alex Rodriguez’s nightlife headline news, Torre always handled the obnoxious NY sports beat with class and often accepted blame for sub-par performances on the field. There is no denying this is one of Joe Torre’s greatest gifts.

Since I have never been in the Yankee clubhouse to see how he interacts with the players, I can only give my impression of Torre’s baseball savvy based on what I’ve seen watching a bunch of Yankee games in recent years— Joe Torre’s in-game demeanor resembles that of Bernie in Weekend at Bernie’s. There were times when I was sure he was asleep and other times I was unsure if he even said a word to any of his players. I may be all wrong on this and his stature in the dugout as the stoic leader may in fact be what his players feel, but for me…I have no idea.

I also heard ESPN’s Bill Simmons discussing the Joe Torre hire. He had a valid point in asking, “what does Joe Torre know about the National League?” Even if we assume that Joe Torre is a great manager, it is clear that managing in the American League is totally different that the NL, and its hard to gauge whether the transition will be a smooth one. Incorporating double switches, and sacrifice bunts are integral aspects of the NL game that Torre never had to deal with for the past 12 years in the AL.

Ultimately, I think the Dodgers have way more questions than who the manager is that I felt should have been the #1 off-season concern (3B, a power hitter, starting pitching, lefty bullpen specialist, and getting rid of Juan Pierre somehow all come to mind.). Then again, if getting Joe Torre is part of the package in obtaining Alex Rodriguez, then I have no problem with it. Until then, I’m on the fence on this one.