Time to Hang 'Em Up, Ben

Pittsburgh quarterback Ben Roethlisberger's career ended on June 12, 2006. That was the day "the youngest quarterback to lead a team to the Super Bowl championship," full of youth, hubris, and foolishness five months after said Super Bowl championship rode his motorcycle, helmet-less, into an oncoming vehicle, busting up his knee, breaking his jaw and nose and, way too apparently (even soon after the accident), busting up his noggin pretty good.

I know it sounds pretty ridiculous to say that a quarterback who has thrown for over 13,000 yards, 86 touchdowns, and 60 interceptions and has led his team to yet another Super Bowl victory since that incident ended his career three and a half years ago. And yet ...

No, wait. Strike that. What was really ridiculous was the day that really ended Roethlisberger's career: August 11, 2006. That was the day that Steeler head coach, Bill Cowher, knowing full well that Big Ben had suffered a serious head injury, declared Roethlisberger would start the first pre-season game: "He will play for a short period of time, and I will leave it at that. Everyone else will play a series or two."

Ben promptly sprained a thumb ligament on his throwing hand in that game. So, he had the busted-up knee, jaw, and nose, the messed-up thumb, and, oh yeah! the concussion!

He was still scheduled to start the 2006-07 season opener until he was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. He actually missed the season opener (Charlie Batch started in his place) but was back for the second game--just two weeks after doctors cut into his stomach. He was 17 of 32 passing for 141 yards while throwing two interceptions and was sacked twice--a story we rarely heard his first two seasons before his accident but one we've heard damned near every game since the accident.

So, if you're still keeping count, before Ben even started that season he had the busted-up knee, jaw, nose, and thumb; the abdominal surgery (which I've heard takes something like six months to recover from); and, oh yeah! the motherfucking concussion!!!

For us fans it was a frustrating experience, as the Steelers stumbled onto an 8-8 record and completely missed the playoffs. The "experts" and pundits blamed lack of intensity on Pittsburgh's lackluster performance. Personally, I blamed that motorcycle accident and, most importantly, Bill Cowher.

Without getting too much into it, I've seen a bit of what a serious head injury can do to a person. How it can diminish them. Turn a very intelligent person into someone who can barely retain the strains of a conversation--let alone a job. How a usually mild-mannered person can turn into a tempest of emotion with violent, depressive mood swings.

I also talked to my mother-in-law, who's a doctor in nursing, about the Roethlisberger accident. She'd told me that someone with that serious of a head injury would not be allowed to be very active for an entire year after the incident--let alone play football!!!--because having a concussion makes one more susceptible to getting more concussions. Head injuries generally take a year to heal, and it is really hard to detect the extent of damage the brain has received until months after the incident.

In other words, there was absolutely no way that Big Ben should've been playing that season. No medical professional (outside of the sports industry) would've allowed him to jog on a treadmill (to say nothing of playing football) for months after his head went through that windshield. It was simply too dangerous for him to be on the field. They were risking further damage to the man's brain and, for all they knew, his life.

And the infuriating thing is, they had to have known. Yet, they kept Ben out there.

On October 26, in a game against the Atlanta Falcons, Roethlisberger was carted off the field with yet another concussion. The Steelers were 2-4 after that game. And yet, the next week, with two concussions in four months, he played against the Oakland Raiders.

He played one of the worst games of his life against one of the worst teams in the league--fumbling the ball once and throwing four interceptions. Something was obviously wrong. And, though I was well aware of the supermachismo that rules football, I was still furious. Roethlisberger shouldn't have been out there, and, if I knew it and my mother-in-law knew it, then Bill Cowher had to know it, too. After that Oakland loss, the Steelers were 2-5--their season effectively over. There was absolutely no reason to have Ben continue the season.

But his determination to start Ben seemed personal. There were times in Cowher's reign when things seemed to get personal with him. Like his benching Kordell Stewart just three games after he led the Steelers to the AFC Championship game--though the two losses were to the far superior New England Patriots (Super Bowl champs) and the Oakland Raiders. Then the millions the Steelers were paying to have a healthy Duce Staley sit on the sidelines.

It seemed like he was punishing Roethlisberger for being stupid enough to ride a motorcycle without a helmet. He probably didn't want the boy to ride a motorcycle period, and he was going to show Roethlisberger the error of his ways. It didn't matter what happened to the Steelers' season--which was ruined by this decision. Nor did it matter how dinged up the boy got--he ... would ... learn.

But I think what we're all learning is that Cowher's decision has probably prematurely ended Roethlisberger's career. 'Cause one of the many things that last Thursday's game against Cleveland showed me is that, once again, something ain't right with Big Ben. After coming back way too soon from yet another concussion, he just didn't look himself or particularly aware of what was going on around him as he was sacked eight times against one of the worst defenses in the league.

I know that the NFL is now playing lip service to taking concussions seriously. If that were really true, I don't know how they let Roethlisberger play another down after his latest concussion suffered during the Kansas City game. As I've stated, having one concussion makes you more susceptible to receiving others. Since Ben's accident three and a half years ago, he's had four head concussions and one spinal cord concussion (whatever that is).

Now that the league has been forced to acknowledge that these head injuries can lead to a shortened life of depression, suicide, and tragically violent outbursts, it's time that they acknowledge that four concussions is simply too much for one person to suffer, to acknowledge that they have more than likely caused irreparable damage, and that it is football that caused it.

Personally, I wish Bill Cowher would get on the air and explain why he did it. Why, on August 11, 2006, he decided that a seriously injured Ben Roethlisberger was going to be his starting quarterback. Was it machismo, some form of punishment, actual ignorance, or was it the short-term costs of having your million-dollar starting QB out a season that drove his decision to shorten Ben Roethlisberger's career and possibly his life?

Because the former is most definitely shortened. The League may not be as serious as they're acting right now. However, folks are becoming more and more aware of the damage that concussions do. And we can be fairly certain that Big Ben, "one of the toughest quarterbacks in the league," will continue to suffer them. And there will come a point--probably not next season but probably the season after that--when he'll have suffered so many concussions that there will be a public outcry (though, apparently Hines Ward will be calling him a "pussy") for him to hang up the cleats.

I hate to say it--because I love the way the man plays and I love the way he keeps winning Super Bowls for us--but I think that time is now. He is not only one blow to the head away from ending his career--but possibly, just possibly, one away from ever possibly having a normal life again.

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The Health Care Quote of the Day

Sen. Joe Lieberman tells the New York Times why he's suddenly decided to torpedo the Medicare buy-in he's supported for at least the last nine years and as recently as three months ago.

Apparently, the liberals liked the idea too much.

“Congressman Weiner [D-NY--and huge champion of the public option] made a comment that Medicare-buy in is better than a public option, it’s the beginning of a road to single-payer. Jacob Hacker, who’s a Yale professor who is actually the man who created the public option, said, ‘This is a dream. This is better than a public option. This is a giant step.’”

Way to go, Joe! I guess you're living the dream ... of every right-wing nutjob who's ever wanted to destroy anything resembling a progressive agenda. I guess that's what it means to be an "independent." Good luck getting that GOP nomination in '12.
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"No Friends Here"

Children like routine, repetition, consistency. Children do not like change.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard that. How many times I've told it to myself.

It's that mantra that has provided the only negative part to this whole new move. What will this massive change--the new house, the new routines, the new daycare--mean to Poohbutt? It's funny. I mean, the girl's two. It's not like she's going to remember any of this. I realize that, always have, and yet, it hasn't stopped the guilt from creeping in.

Well this morning, it washed over me like a great flood. I was dropping her off at her new daycare. Yall know I didn't handle the first daycare situation all that well. Well, Pooh had her issues as well. In fact, she pretty much kept to herself for the first five months she was there. The teachers would constantly tell me how well-behaved and how quiet Pooh was there. Eventually, they confessed that she hardly ever spoke to any of the other children or the teachers and really just spent the days playing by herself.

Something magical happened when she turned two. She became an extrovert and became quite popular with the other kids. Every time she entered the school, everybody would be like, "Good morning, Poohbutt." And when she left, it was "Good night, Poohbutt."

She'd enthusiastically wave and say goodbye, and then proceed to babble for the next half hour as I drove us home.

You can see why I was apprehensive in changing daycares. But I did. We didn't have much of a choice.

It's been a little over a week now. As you may have predicted, the teachers are telling me how well-behaved and quiet my girl is. So, I know what that means. They're also saying how well-adjusted she's been.

Well, maybe at school. But, at home, she's going through some changes: mean-mugging and throwing all kinds of fits. But that's to be expected. Her world has changed quite a bit these last 8 days. But these drastic differences between her reported conduct at school and her definite outbursts at home make you wonder what's going on in that little mind of hers and what's going on with her at the new day care.

I pulled up to the daycare, threw the gearshift into neutral and applied the parking brake. I turned, and chirped, "Here we are, Pooh, at your new school."

She had this vacant look on her face and whined ...

"No friends here, Daddy."

God. I thought I was gonna cry right then and there.

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Top 10 CDs of 2009

Well, it's been a long time since I've been a music critic listening to hundreds upon hundreds of the 100,000 albums that reportedly come out each year. I was about as "in the know" as one could be--and yet totally clueless about the vast majority of music coming out. In fact, it used to be funny when I'd tell people I was a music critic and they'd be utterly shocked when I'd never heard of their favorite artist du jour. Telling them that there were something like 100,000 CDs that came out that year was no excuse. I'm guessing it wasn't. But there's just too much stuff out there to be up on most of it, and I felt totally secure in my ignorance.

Well, no longer being a music critic, I'm even more ignoranter now. But I still like my music. I don't really try all that hard to keep up with what's going on, but I do happen upon stuff that I really enjoy. I thought, since I haven't blogged in awhile, I'd share my ten favorite discs of the year. I liked a bunch of stuff this year and actually feel bad about a bunch of the stuff that I didn't include.

Please don't treat this as an authoritative list (after all, I don't know shit). Just think of it as a helpful Christmas guide for that know-it-all smart-ass music fiend who always scoffs at what you give them for Christmas (we are soooo ungrateful).







1. Mos Def - The Ecstatic

Yeah, yeah. I know. Mos was soooo last millennium. I get a lot of crap at work for still liking the Defster, but I can't help it. I think he's actually striving towards genius, and I gotta respect it. Black Star and Black on Both Sides are hip-hop classics, and I think The New Danger should be. True Magic was true crap, but I think Black Dante really redeemed himself with The Ecstatic--even though, there are moments where it sounds like a Stones Throw compilation. Madlib got lazy on this one and just used a beat from one of his Beat Konducta tracks. But still ... Madlib, Oh No, Georgia Anne Muldrow, and Chad Hugo from N.E.R.D. teamed up to produce one hell of an album. Now, dear co-workers, ridicule away!




2. Blakroc - Blakroc

The '90s had The Heavy Rhyme Experience, and the 2Gs will (just barely) have this album--where a great band teamed up with some of the best rappers around to give us one of the best musical experiences a hip-hop head can have. Confession: I was never much of a fan of The Brand New Heavies nor The Heavy Rhyme Experience. However, I am a fan of the Black Keys, and I do love this disc. They've got Luda, ODB, Q-Tip, Mos Def, Pharoahe Monch, Nicole Wray (who can sing her ass off), Rza, Raekwon, Jim Jones, and NOE (who sounds a little too Jay-Z for me. But M.O.P.'s Billy Danze is the one who really stands out here. His ubertestosterone vocals mesh perfectly with the BKs' dirty rock stylee. Blakroc is the best mix of rock and rap since Rage gave up their battle against the Machine.




3. Passion Pit - Manners

Yeah. I wrote about these guys before. And what I wrote about them before still stands:

"I don't know exactly how to describe them. Maybe something like--2Gs electro-rockers with a taste for late '80s dance music and a dash of the Beach Boys. Something along those lines. Maybe."

Let me just add that they are catchy as hell. Just listen to "The Reeling" to see what I'm talking about. I just can't stop returning to that song and this album--no matter how hard I try. I think I'll be listening to this one for years to come.




4. The Heavy - The House That Dirt Built

I'm a bit of a The Heavy fan. Actually, I try screaming their praises every chance I get. You don't hear me, dough. Not that I blame you. I've been trying to ignore myself for years. Anyway, I used to describe their first album, Great Vengeance and Furious Fire, like: "Well, imagine if Lenny Kravitz didn't suck." That album had more of a dirty, retro funk--like Poets of Rhythm, Sugarman Three, and Sharon Jones--feel than this one does. This is more of a hard-rocker. I still love it, though. I hate it when artists give me the exact same thing on their sophomore efforts.




5. Shafiq Husayn - En' A-Free-Ka

Now, if my scuttlebutt is correct, Sa-Ra (of which, Shafiq is a part) felt shackled by Babygrande on their debut release, The Hollywood Recordings. They celebrated their release from the major label with a 23-song release on one of my favorite indy labels, Ubiquity. That album, Nuclear Evolution: The Age of Love is a sound to behold. There aren't too many creative forces in R&B these days trying to make lasting music, and I applaud Sa-Ra's efforts. However, I'm from the LP era. Give me your best 9-10 songs and leave me begging for more. After listening to Nuke Eve a few times, I'm left begging for Gatorade to replenish my electrolytes and an extra cranium to help me digest it all.

I enjoy Shafiq's solo En' A-Free-Ka much more. Yeah. It's 17 songs long, but it doesn't feel as exhaustive. Also, I feel like I know where Sa-Ra's coming from a bit more easily--like they're on a Sly-and-the-Family-Clinton-Prince-3000 train that I've been on before. Shafiq feels a bit more unique. If you're of the Mary J. Blige school of R&B, I don't think you'll enjoy this much. But if you can handle Badu, you'll definitely want to check Shafiq--and Sa-Ra--out.




6. Major Lazer - Guns Don't Kill People ... Lazers Do

I love Diplo and his music so much, I even dedicated an entry in My Booty Novel to a Diplo set I went to. Major Lazer is the brainchild of Diplo and Switch. Oh, wait. According to Amazon, Major Lazer is ...

"a Jamaican commando who lost his arm in the secret Zombie War of 1984. The US military rescued him and repurposed experimental lazers as prosthetic limbs. Since then Major Lazer has been a hired renegade soldier for a rogue government operating in secrecy underneath the watch of M5 and the CIA. His cover is that of a dancehall night club owner from Trinidad and he enlisted the help of long-time allies and uber-producers, Diplo and Switch, to produce his first LP. His true mission is to protect the world from the dark forces of evil that live just under the surface of a civilized society. He fights vampires and various monsters, parties hard, and has a rocket powered skateboard."

Yes, these white boys are crazy. And so is their music. Guns Don't Kill People ... is a futuristic dancehall madhouse where Baltimore, Rio, and Kingston collide in Diplo and Switch's hands to give you a maddening dance adventure you ain't never heard before. Amanda Blank and Santogold make appearances, of course, along with a bunch of dancehall wizards to provide one magical experience.




7. Diamond District - In the Ruff

I think half of my co-workers are somehow involved in the DC hip-hop scene. As a result, I've been exposed to what my adopted town has to offer, and I gotta tell ya, I like it. For those who keep clamoring that hip-hop is dead, come to DC to have the life breathed back into your hopes. Oddisee is our local super-producer. He's got those hyperbolic drums much like Black Milk, and, like Tronic, every track jumps out at you, smacks you in the face, and steals your wallet. Rapper XO is pretty cool. And I'm a big fan of yU, whose Before Taxes was bound to make this list, but I wasn't sure if it came out in '09 or '08. Cop that, too, if you can find it.




8. The Dead Weather - Horehound

Jack White is one of the reasons I actually started listening to rock again after 20+ years of hating the stuff. Oh yes, I can listen to the White Stripes all day long. I even like his other side project, The Raconteurs. But this ... this I fell in love with. I can't get enough of lead singer Alison Mosshart's voice (I guess I'll have to check her out in The Kills). The two together--with an all-star band of musicians from groups I've never listened to--have created something so rough, so rugged, so raw, I find myself huddled in the corner of the shower, scrubbing my black ass pink under the scalding-hot water, until I somehow feel clean again. Oh yes, you can call it love.




9. Tegan & Sara - Sainthood

I generally like my music pretty rough around the edges. Hostility and aggression are also admirable qualities. I've gotta tell you, I'm surprised these sisters are on this list myself. I'm chalking up to a Celebration of My Inner White Girl. All I can say is that Tegan and Sara's power pop is so infectious that, by the second time I listened to Sainthood, I was already singing along. And whenever I need a feelgood moment, this is the disc I turn to.




10. Doom - Born Like This

There was a time, not too long ago, when MF Doom would've dominated any Top 10 list I could come up with. Viktor Vaughn, King Geedorah, Madvillainy, DangerDoom. The man's genius seemed to know no bounds. Even without the MF (I hear he got sued over it--which I guess means that Grimm is the only MF left in hip-hop), Doom is still one of my favorite MCs. He didn't blow my mind on this one, but Born Like This still deserves to be on any Best of list for 2009.









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The Obama Afghanistan Plan Song of the Day

Speculation has run rampant around the globe in anticipation of President Barack Obama's planned speech tonight detailing his "new" plan for Afghanistan. With Britain's PM Gordon Brown already announcing his intentions to send more British troops to the country, it is all but a foregone conclusion that President Obama is going to follow General McChrystal's plan for an increase of American troops for the region. The question is no longer (nor never really was) whether Obama was going to follow McChrystal's wishes for increased involvement, but to what degree the increase will take. For an in-depth analysis of the war in Afghanistan and President Obama's plans for that war, we go to Tome special correspondent, Pete Seeger, to read between the lines and offer his own special analysis of the situation. Pete?






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Where I'm At

Sitting here watching the Steelers and Ravens. With Big Ben out, I'm surprised this game is as good as it is. Go, Dennis Dixon!

Anyway, it's been a long, holiday week. As you know, we Unknowns have just bought a house. Since I had vacation to burn, I took the week off to paint. There was a steep learning curve for yours truly. And I'm just getting over my exhaustion. Earlier today, Pooh and I put Mrs. Unknown on a plane to Switzerland for a meeting and settled in for a pleasant afternoon of football and pizza. Pooh was screaming, "Go Steelers! Go Steelers!" as I put her to bed.

So, I figure now is as good a time as any to tell you all where I'm at in this Unknown life of mine:



Well, I'll be honest, August's Health Care Stories Project pretty much wiped me out. There I was, saying I was going to take some time off to write a new novel--only to start the most intense blogging project I could've possibly imagine. I don't know. I was getting so upset over the "health care debate," I felt I had to do something. I hope in our own, small way we made a difference.

I have no regrets either way, but I don't think I've really recovered my former "swagger," yet. Of course, there were a lot of mitigating factors. There was work--as usual. Then there was the accursed house-hunting. I may still rant about that later.

I gotta tell ya, though, I was shocked by how all-consuming looking for a house can be. There's a heart-rending, house-hunting paradox that never can and never will be resolved: you're never supposed to get your hopes up when looking at a house, but, in order to put a bid in and possibly commit yourself to 30 years of debt, you really have to see yourself in any given house; and what is seeing yourself in a house if it's not getting your hopes up?

I can't tell you how many Christmases and barbecues I'd envisioned that will never be. How many disappointments. But hey, it was all part of the process. And, as we kept telling ourselves, these were good problems. There are so many folks out there still losing their homes, while we got to buy our first. So, no matter what was happening, no matter how depressing it became, we were indeed fortunate. Even though I'm a little bummed that we didn't get to move back into the city, I know I should count my blessings. And I do.



So, there are a lot of changes in store for the Campbell Clan. The house will not be the last of them. I'll keep you informed as they come to fruition.

One change was my "celebrating" my 39 1/2th birthday. Yeah, I know. A half-birthday. When was the last time you counted one of those? It's just that I'm suddenly looking at the hilltop, and I didn't know how I felt about possibly going over it.

So yeah ... I'm looking at a few changes.



The new Growler is one I'm looking forward to. Frederick Douglass had one. It's where we got the idea. His was a little, windowless brick building he had built in his backyard where he'd go every night to write. Mine is a little room in the basement overlooking our backyard. I painted mine "Jazz Blue." I'm pretty excited. Like Virginia, I will finally have a room of my own in which to write. I can't wait.



Aside from writing, I would kinda like to turn the Growler into my own, private DJ booth. I don't know why, but I can't get the idea of being an internet DJ out of my system. It's just that, as a music fiend, I have so much music I can never possibly listen to, and I like sharing.

I've done the internet radio thing twice before, which met with (a) little interest. But those were just throwing up a bunch of songs and letting them play. There was no real interaction whatsoever. This time, though, I'd like to be an actual disc jockey--talking, ranting, shucking, jiving--with a podcast. No, I wouldn't expect this thing to be a success, either. But I think it would be fun.

Of course, a bunch of things would have to happen before I go on the cyberwaves, though.



One of those things is a new novel. I don't like talking about works in progress, but I will tell you it's a science fiction story, oddly enough, about storytelling. It's been delayed a bit with the move, but I plan to get back to it in a week or two. I think those of you--all 12 of you--who liked Sunshine Patriots will dig this one.



Actually, if all goes as hoped, I'd like to celebrate my 40th year on this planet by coming out with three books next year. One would be the aforementioned new novel, of course. Another would be a sort-of "Best of" Tome here. And I have another book, a satire, that will be sure to piss a bunch of folks off. I'm four chapters into it.



It's weird. I'm not really looking at the impending doom of my 40th birthday as my becoming "over the hill." It's not that I think 40 is the new 20, or any such nonsense. I actually don't know if I am cool with it. But birthdays are good problems. A lot of people never make it to 40. So, no matter what is happening, no matter how depressing it becomes, I am indeed fortunate. Even though I'm a still little bummed that we didn't get to move back into the city, I know I should count my blessings. And I do.

So, for now, I'm just thinking of all the possibilities the new home and the new year can bring. And how cool would it be to do something extraordinary? How cool would it be to come out with three books in one year?

It would be so spectacular (my name not being Nora Roberts nor Stephen King), it almost wouldn't matter if they sold well, or not.

Almost.



So, that's where I'm at right now. On the threshold of the Eternal New. A little apprehensive. A little scared. Feeling my age and feeling my oats. But more than willing to take on all this change--and the future.





Way to go, Dennis Dixon!

Sure, you lost, but you sure as hell did yourself proud!

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Happy Anniversary, Babe!

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