Banking on Stadiums

Here's an excerpt of an article I wrote for work on bank stadium sponsorships. Check out the full article here at MyBankTracker.com

"Considering the big name banks that have purchased stadium naming rights, sports branding appears to be the banking equivalent of a status symbol; instead of buying a Lexus, banks will buy naming rights to demonstrate economic stability, project a more fun image and hopefully gain a client-base amongst sports fans. Or maybe it’s just the spirit of competition. Either way, it could prove important that banks back a winning team. Although the loyal fan will see every game no matter what, overall stadium attendance will generally be higher if a team has a winning record. If this is true, it might be in a bank CEO’s interest to watch some SportsCenter before deciding which team’s stadium they are going to put their name on next..."

Lazy Poem Post #1

So since I've been working and haven't had much time or energy to put anything up here lately, I've decided an optimal cop out for everyone is that for every week or so that I'm not able to post, I'll put up an old poem or short story, as a castigation for me (who hates the idea of his innermost musing being stripped bare for all the internet to see) and an opportunity for you to 1.) see some poetry that probably two or three people, including my mother, have seen or b.) to further punish me by writing stinging critical remarks on the comment boards. Diligite justitiam, o judices terrae. Go ahead. Have your way with me.

Turbines

There’s nothing to this discussion.
I decided that a few minutes in
It would be a loss of words
And I was still, if not more, convinced
After scant political phrases
Shot 'round your tongue and gum.

Already I was thinking of a record
Filtered down from a high window
And the fragile voice that retraced its fall,
Or one young tree on the street
That held tight to its tattered leaves
Even this late in September,
And how I'd felt with both of these
A false and arrogant pride,
And how later we thawed shapes in the frost
Leaving green circles under our blanket.

I wish I'd have strained then
To hear whispers slicing through the air
Rather than now having to block a windy roar
That whips past my ears
And slams me shut like a screen door.

Some words filter through
Little waffles of sentences
Criss-crossed in meaning
Till they're almost indecipherable:
Sprawl. Toil. Harmonize.

Lollapalooza 2009

While the early bird may get the worm, concertgoers at Chicago's 18th Lollapalooza were rewarded for showing up later on in the festivals 3 day lineup. Friday's lineup, though filled with great names like Bon Iver, Ben Folds, STS9, The Decemberists, Of Montreal, and Kings Of Leon, to name a few, was subject to a disappointingly somber set by headliners Depeche Mode, perhaps brought on by the rain that pounded Grant Park for most of the day.

By Saturday, however, the weather was looking up...way up. Temperatures rose to the high 80s, and correspondingly the sets were higher in energy, including a stereotypically laid-back yet angry set by Atmosphere. Arctic Monkeys and Santigold were Saturdays surprise successes, though perhaps not their devoted fan base, who packed in both concerts and helped those unfamiliar with their lyrics by singing, or shouting, along. A slightly disappointing set was Animal Collective, who was highly anticipated but, perhaps attempting to promote their other less well-received work, or perhaps just bored with their traditional set, neglected to play many of the favorites from their newer and more accessible album, Merriweather Post Pavilion. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs pulled off their surprise headlining show, sitting in last minute for the Beastie Boys, who unfortunately had to pull out due to the medical condition of MC Adam "MCA" Yauch, but Tool was the show to see that night, giving a predictably energetic and muscially tight performance, with a stage and lighting show that matched and perhaps even exceeded the music.

But it was Sunday that Lollapalooza outdid itself once again, packing in so many big names that the only complaint that could be had was having to trek from North Lolla to South to catch the headliners at the larger stages placed at opposite ends of the park. But there were so many smaller bands at the side stages that generally the walk would be pleasantly interrupted to catch a few songs coming from the lesser known, but still formidable names. The shaded breaks in the side stage were welcome, especially as temperatures rose to over 90º and higher in the sun-baked pits around the Budweiser and Chicago 2016 stages. There were a variety of plans one could follow and still see a full day of great bands, but one of the best routes we found in the late afternoon heat, starting at 2:30, began at the Kaiser Chiefs, who played an lively set on the North side, led by frontman Ricky Wilson, who somehow found the energy to jump around and even climb the stage rigging during . Next were The Ravonettes, right next door on the Playstation stage, who despite a slow, strum-heavy set, were able to keep a large audience intrigued with thier high harmonies and stripped down sound, accented by a simple floor tom and snare drum set. Then it was back to the Budweiser stage for Neko Case of New Pornographers fame, who did her solo career justice with a great set of originals backed by a great band featuring her pedal steel guitarist (name?). After we made the long but necessary hike to the South stages to catch The Cold War kids, who delivered a fantastic show complete with crowd surfing and their standby yellow maraca, used on "We Used to Vacation" to smash a cymbal set on top of a concrete block and on "St. John" to beat Nathan Willett's probably very expensive Fender Starcaster in the cacophonous finale. We stuck around for some of Snoop Dog, but the heat and crown drove us back to the North Side, but not before stopping to see a few songs by the frighteningly thin Bradford Cox of Deerhunter. ( I recently found out that this is due to a condition called Marfan Syndrome.)

Back on the North side, we were treated to one last song by Lou Reed...and then another...and then another. His lingering feedback and of-key solos eventually bled into 20 minutes of the Band of Horses concert that was supposed to have started on the next stage over, and while respect must be given to this pioneer of indie rock...come'on, Lou. Finally Band of Horses was able to go on, and played the set of their lives to a very appreciative crowd, who were rewarded for their patience when lead singer Ben Bridwell shouted "We're gonna have to blast this shit out!" when Jane's Addiction started on the other stage 45 minutes into thier set, and continued to valiantly battle the larger stages sound with 4 or five more favorites. For the final show, it was a toss up between Jane's Addiction and The Killers, so we caught both, appreciating the return of the festivals original 1991 headliner and then the Killers hits as the night finally cooled the park to a comfortable 75º as we danced farewell to Lollapalooza 2009.

Stay Gold, Grandma

I've been away from my post for a while, home visiting friends and family and taking a much needed break from the trudging day to day life of the city, and most importantly to celebrate my grandmother's 87 birthday. It's a annual affair, an excuse for the whole family to get together and spend a long weekend at the beach in early August. At this point in her life, as morbid as it might sound, we also never know which one will be the last, so each celebration outdoes the one before, having to be successively larger to be duly extravagant for Grandma's "final blowout." She, of course, being oblivious to the macabre designations of each years party, has come to expect that we outdo ourselves, and continues to outlive our ability to invent exciting new gags.

This year, as our aging family tried yet again to find something to do with my timeless Grandmother, she, bored with our vacation lethargy, asked my younger cousin to drive her to the bar to watch the rest of the Red Sox game. While she doesn't quite follow which team is up to bat or when the images on the screen are replays or live action, she knows that as long as the score after the Red Sox name is higher, things are going well. My cousin, who as a newly licensed driver and the only one of our family who is not yet 21, has happily taken on a job as family chauffeur, and cautiously but skillfully navigated us to the nearby seafood restaurant where the bar, decorated in a collectors dream of Boston memorabilia, had the game viewable from any angle on multiple TVs. My grandmother, who is a huge fan of Broadway, growing up in the Roaring Twenties when preforming in the big shows in New York was every young flappers dream, was advised by her mother to "Never have to be asked to perform," and subsequently has expected a similar outlook from not just her grandchildren, but the general public. She attributes this, and I'm inclined to agree, to that fact that she was raised in an era before the so-called social alienation brought on by the "Ipod Generation," when going up to someone who you didn't know didn't elicit a sneer and an expectation that you were selling something. Needless to say, immediately upon entering the restaurant, she told everyone in sight that it was her birthday, and elicited surprised smiles and a variety of responses, from "congratulations" to "god bless yous." She would always accept these graciously, but upon turning around would mutter with a smile that they could have sang, or that their singing "could have had a bit more oomph." She even asked the waiter if he could get the bar to sing a short rendition of Happy Birthday, which to my surprise he was able to do.

Now of course it is hard to not be enamored by an older woman dressed in a pink suit with a birthday hat and a sparkling wand, but still this kind of public openness and the willingness with which it was received made me think about how rarely we interact with the people that are around us everyday and yet are practically non-entities in our everyday lives. Everyone who has ever been in food service has heard a thousand stories of customers who treat their servers rudely, or perhaps even worse, as if they were another computerized interface that people have to deal with to get what they want. People have become so used to ordering food through a speaker, taking money from an ATM, and finding information or buying products online, that people often don't seem to value the human element when they interact with people in service positions. Many people would actually rather order online than be faced with what has become almost a nerve-wracking process of human interaction. And that is the scariest thing; people who have become so cut off from normal everyday interactions with people that they don't remember (or never knew) how to carry on simple conversations with strangers, other than the pre-programmed "What can I get you today" or "Would you like a bag for that." Will kids who grow up interacting with computer screens and listening to MP3 players on subways eventually need lessons on day to day communication that were once given simply by going to the local grocery store or meeting kids in the park for a baseball game? Now if its not texted, its not worth being said, and even those monosyllabic messages are the most basic information: Where, when, who, what, and then rendezvous for a movie, and then say goodbye, texting about how it went to each other later. My grandmother, on the other hand, who doesn't understand "whose internet" I am surfing when I connect somewhere other than my house, had a restaurant full of otherwise self-indulged patrons looking up from the messages in the bottom of their drinks to smile, sing, and form a human connection with a complete stranger for a few minutes on her birthday. That being said, she doesn't have 500 Facebook friends...