Valkyries bring it home in Ballhalla

On Halloween the WNBA had their first ever Game 7 in the Finals. Last year was the first year they expanded to seven games, and it only took until year 2 to get pushed to the limit.

Another thing that started last year were the Golden State Valkyries, who played their first year as an expansion team. Owned by Joe Lacob, the same owner of Steph Curry's Warriors, the Valkyries have the advantage of an enthusiastic ownership group, a rabid fan base, and a winning infrastructure.

The Valkyries fans have dubbed the Chase Center, where the both the Warriors and Valkyries play, Ballhalla, and the atmosphere has been described as a mix of playoff basketball and a Pride parade.

This year, despite the ramshackle commissioner office decisions that seemed to shoot themselves in their foot at every opportunity, has been a watershed year. The attention that Caitlyn Clark's presence has brought has elevated the game's profile. A'ja Wilson is considered the GOAT, having won multiple MVPs and three finals championships in four years. Angel Reese and Paige Bueckers and Olivia Miles and Gabby Wilson are all superstars. Olivia Miles, man!

Anyway, if it wasn't Halloween night, I would've preferred to watch the whole game, and not just the last six minutes, from the point they were tied at 53 until the end.

At one point with less than 20 seconds left, Burton, for Golden State, was sinking her second free throw to put the Valkyries up by five, and I'm pretty sure I spotted Nancy Pelosi in the crowd:

When watching those last 6 minutes of game time, and about 20 minutes of real time, the crowd was very energetic and loud, chanting "DE-FENSE" whenever the Atlanta Dream has the ball, and chanting "G-S-V" whenever the Valkyries had the ball.

It was real and it was a moment where this sport tapped into a vein of national energy, national resistance. The WNBA, and it's rise in popularity over the past few seasons, culminating with sell-outs at the Finals and a new CBA that makes the work lucrative enough to not have to go overseas in the offseason, is a manifestation of all things the right is terrified of:

• Awesome and powerful women
• Awesome and powerful Black people
• Awesome and powerful queer people

That the sport is growing in popularity at the same time a backwards looking group of terrified white men making up the ruling class fight to erase things that are celebrated by this league shows that moment of resistance. History will look unkindly upon this era's ruling class and their figurehead in the White House, and sports has given us an island upon which to camp while the bigots and pedophile-protectors flame themselves out.

These games kick ass, and hopefully new leadership in the commissioner's office will help get the league to where it should be: as a fully fledged member of the zeitgeist.

Rain on Halloween

This year's Halloween we drove to a different part of town to trick-or-treat with one of Cass's friends. It was a fancier neighborhood than the places we went the last two years, but that manifested itself with larger homes and longer walks between homes. One side of the street didn't even have a sidewalk. Ferris Bueller and Donnie Darko's respective houses, or their exteriors, were in this neighborhood, so that should say something.

It rained, too. Not too hard, and the turnout was still good, so it didn't seem to dampen anything.

Both our kids wore costumes based on One Piece characters, an anime where everyone seems to scream at each other all the time. Cass is dressed as Sanji, the chain smoking, well-dressed cook of Loofy's pirate ship:

And Camille is Vivi, a blue-haired lady:

My camera kept making the sky look brighter, but it was nice and crowded:

The people from the neighborhood mentioned this house was worth coming to see at Christmasmtime:

This Tudor style p lace has a dozen pun-adorned tombstones on their lawn:

Here's that "See it at Christmas" house:

And their lawn...look at the work:

On the way back to the car we stopped at a house that has both Sasquatch:

And Chunk, from the Goonies, complete with, "Hey...you...guys!" playing on a loop.

Another Halloween in the books, another trick-or-treating down. Happy seasons!

Brew Crew Win World Series

As I enjoyed a beer, I watched a team named the Brewers finish off their opponents in the World Series. Ity was their first World Series victory in franchise history, a history that spans, what, 57 years, and starting in the other league. I really liked Robin Yount and Paul Molitor as a kid, as well as the blue and yellow color scheme.

The Rays lost this year, in what is their third trip (lost to the Phillies in '09, and to the Dodgers in the shortened '20 season). Not great, but consider the Mariners: all those Hall of Famers and all time greats, and not a single WS appearance.

One factoid I thought was cool about this year was that it was the first time since 1980, and only the second time since 1920, that a first time winner of the World Series was going to be guaranteed. That's it. Only three times dating back 107 years were both teams non-winners of the World Series, guaranteeing the winner would be a first timer. In 1980, the Phillies beat the Royals, and in 1920 Cleveland beat Brooklyn.

Also, I leaned about Yandy Diaz, a wily veteran playing for Tampa Bay. Any guesses to his country of origin?

I'll add him to the list:

• Yandy Diaz
• Yasiel Puig
• Yoenis Cespedes
• Yasmani Grandal
• Yordan Alvarez

(I did want to see them all lined up...)

One last note: after reading Pynchon's Shadow Ticket, I have a new soft spot for Milwaukee, so congrats!

One more last thing! This is the first time, I think, ever that the team with the better record won every single series during this postseason. Not only was it the 1-seed versus the 1-seed, but every series went to the higher seed, except for the wild card White Sox beating the AL West champion Astros, but the White Sox had the better record, as the Astros were a definition-of-mediocrity 81-81 on the season. It's rare in baseball that we get the best teams in each league in World Series, but here we are. Or, eh, were. Go Brew Crew!

Soccer Interlude

The previous Saturday we went to watch a Long Beach State girls soccer game against UC Riverside. It was an event where Camille got to parade around the field. It was an AYSO youth girls night. Kinda like the baseball game at Dodger Stadium when Cass and I got to walk the field, only this time it was Camille and Corrie doing the walk.

The game was pretty cool, especially as the Long Beach girls scored a goal in the first three minutes on a corner kick. The ball bounced around and amid the chaos, was put into the net.

The seats were, eh, a college game:

So, right on the green. I even caught an errant ball and tossed it back to a coed for a throw-in.

Way off in the distance was a Long Beach State drum team banging away a pulse-pounding beat for nearly the entirety of the game:

I realized during the time that I needed to have five drummers following me everywhere and drumming a score to my daily routine.

During the parade walk Camille looked like someone had shot her puppy. Later Corrie said that she was upset that they didn't name her team---the Lavender Legends, but she was the only player at the game. In our defense, there was no information about registering your team or team name or anything like that. It seems like there must have been something like that, but we had no info about it.

But hey, we won! At least I'm pretty sure LBSU beat UCR, as the score was 3-1 when we left with a few minutes to go, as it was after 9, which is after both bedtimes.

The kids spent most of the game off on the kid's field, an area beyond one of the goals that was a large patch of grass with a couple of goals set up. Many kids spent the whole time running around, alternating between playing tag and playing soccer. Right behind us on our grandstand were the Riverside contingent, family members who knew everybody and complained about the officiating often.

It was a fun Saturday night.

Journey Through Classic Horror Films, Part 3

On our meandering movie watching tour, we hit up another couple of classic Universal horror films, both from the 1940s:

The Wolf Man, from 1941, was a second go at the werewolf concept, this time starring Lon Chaney Jr as Larry Talbot, the estranged son of Sir John Talbot, the patriarch of, er, Castle Talbot in the Welsh countryside. The dad is played by Claude Rains, an English actor who played the Invisible Man in that classic.

They try to make the story something like, "Larry was successful off in America," as an explanation to why, eh, Larry is clearly a big ol' American lug, while his father is the tiny and calculated Claude Rains. Think...Channing Tatum and Derek Jacobi?

Anyway...something my mom mentioned in a comment is the rampant sexism in these (and most) of the older films. In the beginning of the Wolf Man, Larry helps his father with his telescope. Then he starts looking around the Welsh town where they live, and then peeps a lady in her room. Soon he's using information he's gotten from said peeping to ingratiate himself into her zone, and soon enough he's in love. This prompted a conversation with our kids about love and spying and real things in life, like honestly falling in love, no spying or false pretenses needed.

Bela Lugosi plays a gypsy named Bela, who gets beaten to death---as a wolf---by Larry and his silver-handled cane, but not before he bites Larry, turnign him into the next werewolf.

It's quick, breezy, and hits its mark.

The Phantom of the Opera, from 1943, was shot in Technicolor and was wildly bright and colorful, the production using the new tech to its fullest. It won an Oscar for production design, making it the only Universal horror film to be recognized by the academy in any year.

Here, Claude Rains is back playing Claudin, a violinist with the Paris Opera. His skills seem to have evaporated as his fingers on his fret hand on the violin has lost feeling. He's let go, which puts his secret payments to a singing coach for an understudy from his same village in jeapardy. 

I was convinced the whole time that Claudin was the singer's grandfather, but it turned out he was only 48 (!!) (he looks 75), so then I was convinced he was secretly her father. 

It turns out he was just obsessed with her, but not in a sexual way. Um...sure. Whatever you say.

Claudin tries to sell a concerto he's written, and, to cut a long story short (too late), he mistakingly thinks a jerk has stolen it, gets his face all burned up by acid, steals a master key for the Opera house (a real palace in Paris) which gives him an impossible level of access.

They filmed much of the movie on the same sound stage that they'd constructed for the famous silent Phantom from 1925, the one that stars Lon Chaney Sr.

The very last scene of the movie I enjoyed. Christine DuBois, the understudy-turned-star, has been linked to two fellas who both think they're perfect for Christine. For what it's worth, Christine has a type: the two dudes are at the top of their professions (one is a decorated military and police detective; the other is a decorated opera singer, the star of the Paris Opera), and they both have dark hair and thin mustaches.

The last scene has each guy show up to her room at the opera house trying to woo her, each having brought identical flower bouquets. Finally they tell her she needs to choose. She smiles, laughs, and walks out her door to the waiting and adoring crowd, leaving both men dejected in the room. The detective, half-joking yet half-serious, asks the singer if he wants to join him for the dinner reservation he'd made earlier for an evening with Mademoiselle DuBois. The singer accepts, and they laugh as they interlock arms and try walking out the door together.

That ending was less sexist than most of the scenes we've seen from these classics.

This movie takes a while to get going, and there is so much opera in it that it almost seems like a musical, but the sets are lavish, as are the colors splashed everywhere. It's not a bad time, for sure.

At one point, Claudin takes Christine to his underground lair, and mentions an underground lake. In reality, there is an enormous cistern under the Paris Opera house, the palace itself, that is still used today to train firefighters to swim in the dark.

And that's pretty cool.

Gracie, Crump, and Madame Leota: Surprisingly Strong Binding Threads

This seems as a good time as any, since it is the season, and I have put a few things up about movies and all...

One of the family movies we all enjoy (like The Sleepover or The Princess Bride) is the 2023 version of Haunted Mansion. I thought I brought up this movie while back, but I can't find it. It brings up safe scares, and legit feelings, and I'd watch Lakieth Stanfield in most anything, and Rosario Dawson, Danny Devito, and Tiffani Haddish are all American treasures.

Owen Wilson is...less insufferable here as well. This movie is a good family time. Is it a masterpiece? Does it have to be?

The other day, though, after the Werewolf of London movie, we put on the Eddie Murphy version of The Haunted Mansion from 2003:

This was the first time I watched this version, despite my affection for Eddie Murphy.

So...in the Lakeith Stanfield/Rosario Dawson version, a William Gracie owned the mansion which was eventually haunted both in life and in death by the evil Crump, who needs souls to, er, come back to the world and wreak a new kind of havoc. A character named Madame Leota, played by Jamie Lee Curtis here, is a head in a crystal ball, a medium who knows the real background.

Watching the Eddie Murphy version, my ears picked up when I heard the owner of the mansion who had lured the realtor married couple was named William Gracie. Later, a crystal ball was discovered and inside a "gypsy" named Madame Leota, played by Jennifer Tilly, has, eh, things to say.

It was then that I cracked open my Internet access and looked up some info. Why weee these names the same? What the heck?

Madame Leota is the name of a crystal ball head in the ride. And then I found out some critical info: two of the main Imagineers of the original Disneyland Haunted Mansion were named Rolly Crump and Yale Gracie. 

Honoring the workers and engineering talent that built the place...pretty cool.

Old School Horror Movie Journey, Part 2

Our journey through the old movies slowed a bit, but we hit up three more classic-era flicks:

The Bride of Frankenstein was released in 1935, stars Boris Karloff again, and has some interesting moments. There's a second mad doctor, this time Dr. Pretorious, and he's pushy as all hell. He wants to build Frankenstein's creature a wife. There's an extended scene where Pretorious shows off his own creations, each a miniature human being. The Bride herself may be on screen for less than 100 seconds, and wants nothing to do with her male counterpart. This movie, with an extended runtime of nearly 80 minutes, FEELS like a hundred more.

Freaks, from 1932, is a brisk 62 minutes, and is tightly packed tragedy about a-hole normies running a scam on some dignified and united workers of a sideshow. It holds up pretty well, but the ending is a bit forced. We watched this on my DVD, which has alternate ending cuts, and you can see the studio fighting with itself and the endings. It...it was a hard needle to thread, and the last two minutes may not exactly be perfect, but the movie's worth a look.

Werewolf of London was the first Universal Studio werewolf movie, from 1935, and...Cass and Corrie watched it whule I was making dinner and walking with Camille down to the store. I was interested in the Lon Chaney Jr. Wolf Man movie, from 1941, which I thought was the OG cannon wolf movie. That was incorrect, but this seemed kinda fun. The transformation effects were pretty well done for 1935, and the shots in Tibet, or maybe, "Tibet," were interesting and serious. Maybe worth another look by me, but I can't imagine getting back to it anytime soon.