"Path Lit by Lightning: The Life of Jim Thorpe" by David Maraniss

For me, several of Maraniss’s sentences perfectly encapsulate the magnificent, troubled, and sad life of Jim Thorpe: “The arc of his life after his prime athletic years was less a series of jagged ups and downs than an unceasing exertion against the tide.” (p. 493) It would be a gross understatement to say that Thorpe’s life was itinerant-he lived in over 20 U.S. states and travelled through many more. He always went against the tide that first raised him to prominence (the media, Carlisle Indian Industrial School, Pop Warner, the mythmaking, his athleticism, the Olympics, and kindness) only to become his most unrelenting obstacle (Carlisle Indian Industrial School, Pop Warner, the Olympics, i.e., Avery Brundage, his own stubbornness, and his magnanimity). Most figures in history have a linear career trajectory, but in Thorpe’s case, he went all over the place. I applaud Maraniss for his painstaking research in putting this book together. The sheer effort to visit each location that somehow formed a part of the Thorpe mythology amazes me. Maraniss admits that due to Covid travel restrictions, he was unable to go to Sweden to research that angle of Thorpe’s Olympic legacy. That is one regret I have here: I wish we could have had more input from the Swedes or even Swedish historians. Sweden’s Hugo Wieslander, who was awarded the gold medal that was stripped from Thorpe, always insisted that he (Thorpe) was the true winner and should have kept his medal. It would have been nice to have delved a bit more into what else Wieslander had to say. Whether it was intentional or not, the portrayal of Thorpe’s meanderings throughout the country looking for stable employment saddened me. The sheer hopelessness, sense of desperation, and the realization of how horribly he was treated by the US Olympic Committee, that Thorpe must have felt, really hit me. And yet, he persisted, or as he himself said, “A man has to keep hustling.”

Maraniss also notes that “Among his talents, he had a knack for remembering names and faces from the past. With his life, there were a lot of them.” This is certainly true. At times, Maraniss includes too much information, describing far too many individuals who had minor or incidental roles in Thorpe’s life. I understand that a great part of the research on Thorpe will be centered on what was written by sportswriters of his era, but I think the text by Grantland Rice would have been sufficient. Walter Lingo played a role in recruiting Thorpe for the Oorang Indians, but I think Maraniss goes too far in describing his work with kennels. It took me 70-75 pages before I could feel comfortable with this book. But this was only after I realized that this was not a “pure” biography of Jim Thorpe, but rather a study of elements that ruled and impeded his days: the U.S. government's efforts to force assimilation via Indian schools, the violence and then acceptance of American football, the mythologizing by sportswriters, the corruption of the Olympic Games, the erasure of Indianness in movies, racism, etc. “Path Lit by Lightning” was Jim Thorpe’s name, but this book concentrates more on the path than the lightning. If you are looking for a straight-up biography, this book is not for you. It is exceedingly detailed in its presentations of many of Jim’s encounters and ventures. When I came to the end of the book, although I had a better understanding of Mr. Thorpe, I felt like I learned much more about the early 20th-century milieu. At the end of the day, this is more of a cultural study than a biography.

 

Remembering Diana Bianchedi

Like many fans watching yesterday's NBA finals between the Indiana Pacers and the Oklahoma Thunder, I was horrified and devastated by the torn Achilles tendon injury suffered by the Pacers' guard Tyrese Haliburton. The painful expression on his face was heartbreaking. 

It also recalled a similar incident that occurred nearly 30 years ago during the 1996 Atlanta Summer Olympics. I was working as a volunteer in the fencing venue, mainly as a scorekeeper. While I was scoring one match I noticed something on the adjoining piste. Diana Bianchedi (Italy) had been fencing when she fell to the ground writhing in pain. She took a medical time out, and her coach and medical personnel immediately attended to her. They spent a lot of time with her, and given the severity of her injury, she was given another time out. Then something extraordinary happened. Bianchedi got back to her feet with the help of her team and, believe it or not, continued to fence. She could not advance, only retreat. And would you believe it? She WON. Her opponent from China could not have been very happy. Shortly after her victory, Bianchedi withdrew from the competition. 

It was later revealed that she had torn her Achilles tendon during the bout with her opponent. And somehow she had the mettle to not only finish her bout, but to actually win. I will never see a more inspiring and monumental moment. Back in 1996 there was no social media, so this story did not make the rounds outside of the fencing venue, but those of us in the fencing area could not stop talking about it. 

Watching Haliburton walk away in such tremendous pain reminded me of how incredible Diana Bianchedi's performance was. I know I could not do that. I don't think too many people could. 

Oh, yeah, as a fencing fan boy, I had my picture taken with her. :) 

 

 

Soto Becomes Soto Mayor

The German poet Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote, "The cunning enmity of fame, later, which makes you innocuous by scattering you all around." I reflected on these words shortly after learning of the mega 15-year $765 million contract that Juan Soto signed with the New York Mets. The super-talented outfielder was already well-regarded for his skillset, but this new deal catapulted him into the stratosphere of dollar signs and lofty expectations. Naturally, everyone is buzzing about this. Today, after leaving the gym, I stopped by a Tim Horton's and discussed the contract with two workers there. They also couldn't believe it. 

How does $765 million break down? 

Sportskeeda was kind enough to provide this information! 

Juan Soto will earn the following: 

$51 million per year 

$8.5 million per month

$314, 815 per game 

$133, 396 per hour

$2,018 per minute

$34 per second 

This is truly staggering and naturally, everyone is talking about this contract, loyalty, the need for a salary cap, etc. As a New York Yankees fan, I was disappointed, but Soto now embarks on a new adventure; on a contract that could eventually become, in the words of Ezra Pound, "golden chains of loveliness". At what age will his production begin to diminish? 34? 35? Time will tell. But I certainly do not wish him any ill will, I just hope that with all the social media-driven hype around this contract, he does not become innocuous by being everywhere. 

Source: msn.com 

In today's episode of Pardon the Interruption, co-host Tony Kornheiser whimsically asked whether Soto's agent, Scott Boras, might be the Devil or not. Such was the surprise that Soto did not stay with the Yankees. The agent has a reputation for extracting astronomical contracts for his players and this latest announcement ensures that his villainy among baseball owners and general managers, will not lose any of its "luster". 

2025 should prove to be a very interesting year!

Anima Sola, by Ezra Pound

Believe it or not, there are some items you cannot find on the Internet. I am reading "Collected Early Poems of Ezra Pound" and I came across a wonderful poem titled "Anima Sola". Surprisingly, it is nowhere to be found on the Internet. So I post it here. Enjoy!

Anima Sola

"Then neither is the bright orb of the sun greeted nor yes either the shaggy might of earth or sea, thus then, in the firm vessel of harmony is fixed God, a sphere, round, rejoicing in complete solitude."

                                                                                                                   Empedokles

Exquisite loneliness

Bound of mine own caprice

I fly on the wings of an unknown chord

            That ye hear not, 

            Can not discern

My music is weird and untamed

Barbarous, wild, extreme, 

I fly on the note that ye hear not

On the chord that ye can not dream. 

And lo, your out-worn harmonies are behind me

            As ashes and mouldy bread, 

I die in the tears of the morning

            I kiss the wail of the dead.

My joy is the wind of heaven, 

            My drink is the gall of night, 

My love is the light of meteors;

            The autumn leaves in flight. 

I pendant sit in the vale of fate

    I twine the Maenad strands

And lo, the three Eumenides

            Take justice at my hands.

For I fly in the gale of an unknown chord.

The blood of light is God's delight

And I am the life blood's ward. 

O Loneliness, O Loneliness, 

Thou boon of the fires blown

From heaven to hell and back again

Thou cup of the God-man's own!

For I am a weird untamed 

That eat of no man's meat

My house is the rain ye wail against

            My drink is the wine of sleet. 

My music is your disharmony

            Intangible, most mad, 

For the clang of a thousand cymbals

Where the sphinx smiles o'er the sand, 

            And viol strings that out-sing kings

Are the least of my command. 

Exquisite, alone, untrammeled

I kiss the nameless sign

And the laws of my inmost being

            Chant to the nameless shrine. 

I flee on the wing of a note ye know not, 

My music disowns your law, 

Ye can not tread the road I wed

And lo! I refuse your bidding. 

I will not bow to the expectation that ye have. 

Lo! I am gone as a red flame into the mist, 

My chord is unresolved by your counter-harmonies.

Source: art.com 

When Performance Overcomes Historical Importance

"Cinemas form memories and memories form history," observed Ukrainian film director Mstyslav Chernov during his acceptance speech for winning the Oscar for Best Documentary at Sunday's Academy Awards show. His powerful condemnation of Russia's invasion of Ukraine resonated throughout the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles. 

But for me it also touched on how some cinemas or the subjects they attempt to portray can fade from memory and history if the discerning and capricious spotlight shown on them from the Academy and the audience is affected or shifted in any way, no matter how slight. 

Everyone acclaims the value of the recognition of receiving the prestigious Oscar award, but there are layers of reasons why it is important and how it is important. Also, for whom is it important.

For many actors, it is the ultimate acknowledgment of their ability as an actor, director, producer, etc. But for others, like me, it is an opportunity to recognize something historical; a moment in time or a movement; something that is spoken for by the actor/actress nominated for the award. In an era where the importance of history seems to recede further into the shadows of time, events like winning an Oscar award can do much to solidify one's standing in the always-shifting sands of public sentiment and recollection. 

Lily Gladstone, proudly assumed the role of being the first Blackfeet Indian (Niitsitapie) and Nez Pearce (Nimíipuu) to be nominated for an Oscar award for Best Actress for her brilliant, human, bilingual, and nuanced depiction of Mollie Burkhart, the Osage Indiana who was the victim of a horrendous serious of murders in Oklahoma in 1929. Her role in Martin Scorcese's masterful film "Killers of the Flower Moon" exposes the Reign of Terror that had been hidden in the dustbins of American history for years. 

Had she won for Best Actress award, or if the film had won any award, it would have helped cement the tragedy of the Reign of Terror in the collective conscience of the American persona. For many, this was not just about the best physical performance before a camera, but rather the portrayal of a voice echoing quietly from the past that needed to be heard and understood. The eventual winner, Emma Stone, received the award for her technical prowess in bringing to life Bella, a modern-day re-imagining of Frankenstein, In short, the Academy needed to decide between awarding historical relevance and skilled performance and they chose the safer option. No one, of course, can demean Stone's performance, but for me, Gladstone's effort had more cultural value and historical flavor and was meant to serve as an anchor to avoid the Osage historical tragedy from being swept away by the currents of history. As James LaRue, noted librarian and consultant observed, "cancellation can happen by distraction." And while we cannot say that the Academy hoped to cancel the luminous importance of "Killers of the Flower Moon", they drastically dimmed the light that Mr. Scorcese, Ms. Gladstone, and the team of the film so effectively displayed on this historical moment. The over-extended "rivalry" between "Oppenheimer" and "Barbie" did not help either. But I do hope that down the road, people will still remember this film and its subject. If not, future directors may have to hire Emma Stone to play a Native American Indian. Maybe that will work! 😊

Sadly, the Academy is not ready yet to award an Oscar to a Native American Indian; they have much work to do. But at the very least they allowed Osage musicians and singers to peform on stage during the ceremony. 

 

Winning With Class Still Means Something

Many Americans will probably be unfamiliar with Wrexham FC, the oldest football (soccer) club in Wales and the third oldest professional club in the world that plays in the National League in England. But as the success of the Netflix tv series "Welcome to Wrexham" continues to grow and attract new fans, more people are becoming aware of the team, not only because of the program, but because their owners are American: Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney. Today they played a crucial game against Notts County and won 3-2. Apart from the exultation, what struck me was the class and grace with which Ryan Reynolds spoke about his team's opponents. We live in an age where a win-at-all-costs attitude is celebrated. The recent cases of extremely boorish and poor sportsmanship that were displayed during the latter stages of the NCAA Women's Basketball tournament have rankled many. One player punched another, and two others used a "you-can't-see-me" gesture; one directed toward a team, the other toward one individual in particular. This is symptomatic of what former New York University President John Sexton calls a "colosseum culture". It is no longer just about winning; it is about denigrating your opponent in a fashion that makes for click bait on social media platforms. 

So it was a wonderful breath of fresh air to watch Ryan Reynolds be interviewed after the Wrexham-Notts County game in which he extolled his team's opponents and made sure that they were also recognized for their magnificent season. It is nice to see that grace and dignity still exist in some parts of the sports world. 

The 700 Club

For baseball fans, this year will be remembered as one that provided us with milestones being reached by some of the game's most famous players. Aaron Judge of the New York Yankees tied and then

Photo credit: CHRISTIAN PETERSEN / GETTY IMAGES

surpassed the American League homerun record set by Roger Maris in 1961.  Perhaps more impressive is the 700 homeruns that Albert Pujols of the St. Louis Cardinals achieved recently. He is now one of the top three homerun hitters of all time.  What an amazing accomplishment! 

Today someone else entered the 700 Club: Manchester United's Cristiano Ronaldo, the goal scoring machine who does not seem to age. Naturally, this did not receive much attention in the North American market, but it is still worth celebrating. As Albert Pujols played his last game yesterday, Cristiano Ronaldo seems to keep going forward at full tilt, dazzling defenses with his technical wizardry, speed and moxie. I really wish newscasts in the US would have celebrated his remarkable achievement.