Movin' on....
Feb. 13th, 2013 09:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThe hell there's no crying in baseball.
We know A League of their Own, the Big League production arguing to the contary. Likewise, most of the other Big-Deal baseball films of our married years, from The Natural to Field of Dreams, and from the runs of Major League to the hits of Angels in the Outfield to the errors of Mr. 3000. Between them have been some rougher ones on the diamond in terms of popularity: Pastime, which came out at the height of baseball-film hype; and two for fans of the 1986 Mets, Frequency and Game Six. Yet somehow I completely missed this 2009 film about the Dominican baseball experience in making and (far more often) missing the Major League Show. It's called Sugar, and was authentically shot in Dominican and US minor league cities before ending with a far more pedestrian experience for its pitcher protagonist in the barrios of the Bronx.
Unlike so many feel-good stories where the hero winds up in the World Series (or at least a major league playing field), Miguel Santos only experiences Yankee Stadium from its outer walls- but he ends up just as heroic for what he does with his life, and work, as any of the ones who "made it" out of the thousands of Dominicans who choose baseball as their path to success.
Toward the end of his journey, the soundtrack serenades him with this version of Leonard Cohen's most famous work. We've known and loved it in so many versions and contexts, but this Latino version by Brazilian singer Gepe might be the best use of it ever in a soundtrack:
Hallelujah indeed.
----
In a different form of moving on: Eleanor got word late today that Wegmans has put her on disability until her shoulder permits her to return to full duties. It will tighten things up a bit here for the next few weeks, but we always manage to have what we need when we need it, and I have every confidence that she, and we, will come out fine as she completes the needed healing.
I stopped in at her massage therapist today, to finish purchasing a series of sessions for her, after the first one last week seemed to go really well. I mentioned to R. that Eleanor felt much more comfortable with her approach to her pain than she did with the physical therapists that were actually prescribed for her. Not that they were bad, or hurtful, but just being in an atmosphere of older, frailer people, most of them recovering from accidents or chronic illnesses, and not up to a fraction of the resistance training Eleanor's been using on and off for years.
R. understood exactly what I meant. "She's got so much more living to do."
Hallelujah to that, too:)
We know A League of their Own, the Big League production arguing to the contary. Likewise, most of the other Big-Deal baseball films of our married years, from The Natural to Field of Dreams, and from the runs of Major League to the hits of Angels in the Outfield to the errors of Mr. 3000. Between them have been some rougher ones on the diamond in terms of popularity: Pastime, which came out at the height of baseball-film hype; and two for fans of the 1986 Mets, Frequency and Game Six. Yet somehow I completely missed this 2009 film about the Dominican baseball experience in making and (far more often) missing the Major League Show. It's called Sugar, and was authentically shot in Dominican and US minor league cities before ending with a far more pedestrian experience for its pitcher protagonist in the barrios of the Bronx.
Unlike so many feel-good stories where the hero winds up in the World Series (or at least a major league playing field), Miguel Santos only experiences Yankee Stadium from its outer walls- but he ends up just as heroic for what he does with his life, and work, as any of the ones who "made it" out of the thousands of Dominicans who choose baseball as their path to success.
Toward the end of his journey, the soundtrack serenades him with this version of Leonard Cohen's most famous work. We've known and loved it in so many versions and contexts, but this Latino version by Brazilian singer Gepe might be the best use of it ever in a soundtrack:
Hallelujah indeed.
----
In a different form of moving on: Eleanor got word late today that Wegmans has put her on disability until her shoulder permits her to return to full duties. It will tighten things up a bit here for the next few weeks, but we always manage to have what we need when we need it, and I have every confidence that she, and we, will come out fine as she completes the needed healing.
I stopped in at her massage therapist today, to finish purchasing a series of sessions for her, after the first one last week seemed to go really well. I mentioned to R. that Eleanor felt much more comfortable with her approach to her pain than she did with the physical therapists that were actually prescribed for her. Not that they were bad, or hurtful, but just being in an atmosphere of older, frailer people, most of them recovering from accidents or chronic illnesses, and not up to a fraction of the resistance training Eleanor's been using on and off for years.
R. understood exactly what I meant. "She's got so much more living to do."
Hallelujah to that, too:)
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no subject
Date: 2013-02-14 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-14 02:41 pm (UTC)I hate to say it, because I like to think that such things don't matter, but every one of the five therapists is male, and all the assistants are female. The decor in the actual therapy room runs strongly to hockey sticks and jerseys. The range of magazines in the waiting room includes one called, I kid you not, The Rut. Jeebus, you know?