Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

It’s clear now – obviously the Boston Red Sox front office voraciously reads Mister Faded Glory, and dealt longtime slugger Manny Ramirez out of spite, to teach me a lesson. The Sox shipped the star nearly as far away as possible – to the Los Angeles Dodgers.

In fact, after the close of the deadline, bored with the tiresome antics of Ned Yost, Prince Fielder, and our favorite bedraggled rivals to the north, I cruised over to ESPN, simply to affirm my initial reaction to another tired week of Manny-mania.

I learned, yup, Ramirez stays, yet again. Finally, I could cease  clicking on ESPN’s ridiculously cumbersome “Trade deadline blog” (don’t click – it will cripple your browser and perhaps implode your laptop). The Leader was certain Ramirez stayed, and Ken Griffey Junior – the day’s big get – led their site.

So I yawned, entirely confident I’d been right about the Sox, standing pat after their annual dalliance with the idea of trading their best player. They may have had their PR machine out in full force this week – including diatribes from the vicious Peter Gammons and the whiny Jeff Passan, both so catty they may well have been penned by Red Sox interns.

As a final parting shot, phony nutjob Curt Schilling appeared out of nowhere to toss dirt on Manny’s future grave. By the way, I’d consider a pompous douchebag who spouts off specifically to further his own cause-of-the-day anytime a microphone is thrust in front of his face much more cancerous to his team than a Joe DiMaggio-like slugger who occasionally loafs to first during a blowout. Call me insane, I know.

But then, however, I double-checked SI – after all, Heyman (and FoxSports’ Rosenthal) have stomped ESPN’s scoops all week. And saw:

Yep, Manny was gone. SI’s Jon Heyman broke the story, even as Deadspin caught ESPN promulgating Amy Nelson (who?) as the scoop. These screengrabs were taken within seconds of each other, just after 4 p.m. Buster‘s tantrum yesterday looks silly now, yeah?

I’m still extremely dubious about the Sox’s decision to trade away such a frontline player, particularly one still as productive as Ramirez. Like I said yesterday, chemistry’s only as good as wins and playoffs and titles prove, and Boston counts plenty of those. Seemed like an emotional, rash decision for a team which prides itself on the opposite.

To the Red Sox’ credit, however, at least they pried Jason Bay from the eternally-rebuilding Pittsburgh Pirates, mitigating the utter disaster this could have been. Bay‘s a fine player, his right-handed bat may shine with the Green Monster – but the Sox lineup looks much less fearsome without Ramirez.  Speculation always runs rampant that Ramirez causes David Ortiz, JD Drew, Mike Lowell, et. al. to see much better pitches. Now we’ll see. Perhaps the Sox will squeak into the playoffs – but, like I said, I’m dubious.

And ohbytheway - in relevant baseball news, it was quite the week for the Cubs to bounce back – not only prescient or pressing, but somehow poetic. What else, uh, can I say?

Make it stop! Please, for all that is decent, make it stop!

For nearly the fifth year in a row, or tenth, or third, or whatever, as the major league baseball non-waiver trading deadline approaches we’re greeted with a blitz of Manny Ramirez trade rumors. For the billionth year in a row, the Boston Red Sox are fed up with the supposedly flaky Manny Ramirez. And we’re told, by Ken Rosenthal and Jon Heyman and the talking heads everywhere – it looks as though it may actually happen. Even the scoop-happy Buster Olney reports tonight, via ESPN’s bottom line, that a trade with the Marlins may be imminent.

(Weirdly, Olney cried foul this morning about the scoop rush on his blog, according to The Big Lead.Yet tonight, ESPN credited him with the Marlins scoop several hours after Heyman discussed it this afternoon. Not that Buster‘s a hypocrite, but, uh, well, I can’t finish that sentence. Does anyone else think Buster is unraveling before our very eyes? He’s shouting, he’s barely coherent, he’s stressed, he’s on the WWL nearly twenty hours per day, plaintively apologizing for a preseason Indians WS prediction no one on earth remembers or cares. ANYWAY…)

The annual Manny Ramirez circus is just that, a circus. The Sox won’t deal him. Nor should they. In fact, this entire blitz is entirely a media creation, as if all major baseball Web sites couldn’t fathom a trade deadline passing with only Mark Teixeira in the mix. The Boston Red Sox may well be the most statistically and financially savvy organization in Major League Baseball. It’s absolutely unconscionable to think they’d trade Manny, phony baggage or not.

Yet during a casual survey of the media and Red Sox fandom, one would think Ramirez is not only the root of all Red Sox failures, but all evil in general. Peter Gammons, in a venomous blog-column, absolutely eviscerates Manny Ramirez. You’d think the Sox’ success during the last seven years was in spite of Manny, not because of.

Since Ramirez joined the Red Sox in 2001, all he’s done is:

• Cement his Hall of Fame legacy.
• Gone to 8 All-Star Games.
• Won a batting title.
• Won an All-Star Game MVP.
• Led Boston to the playoffs four times.
• And more.

He’s been a virtual bargain – signed during MLB’s inexplicable spate of lengthy, superfluous contracts – Derek Jeter, Todd Helton, Alex Rodriguez, Jason Giambi, etc., etc. At $160 million for eight years when signed – Manny‘s been worth absolutely every penny.  Heck, to me, picking up his 2009 option is a no-brainer.

Oh, by the way, he’s also led the Sox to two World Series titles. Ahem. Nearly ten years ago, they were supposedly cursed. But as long as viewers and clickers and readers will tune in, nearly everyone will tell you the Red Sox want to part ways. They’ll tell you Manny’s a malcontent. A flake. A showboat. And they’ll tell you, no doubt, he’s selfish and doesn’t care. And it’s all baloney. Manny certainly isn’t the grizzled fortysomething sportswriter’s prototypical favorite ballplayer – but what evidence exists that proves Manny‘s hurt the team? Taken an at-bat off? Taken a play off? Besides the insulting stereotypes – what evidence exists that proves Manny doesn’t care?

There is none.

He may be a bit divaesque, and he may be joyful, exuberant, and effervescent on the field – but since when is that a problem? He’s all about the money, Peter? For crying out loud, so are we all. And speaking of divas, we have plenty of sportswriters rushing to their aid elsewhere – why is Manny a sudden pariah while others ride a mythical wave of legend?

During Manny‘s career in Boston, the Red Sox hardly suffered. They thrived. Chemistry in sports isn’t non-existent, but it is overrated. Certainly players with a different set of rules aren’t necessarily ideal – but examples exist in all sports, at all levels. This isn’t the first. And the notion that the Red Sox’ relationship with their star player is now suddenly untenable is ridiculous.

It would be nice, occasionally, if sportswriters didn’t leap into groupthink or conclusions or half-truths or contrary fact. Especially simply to fuel a purely speculative rumor mill.

We Cub fans are an odd sort – vociferous, vocal, impassioned fans, and impossible sadists, unable to celebrate even the smallest success without sensing doom. During the exultation of the most exciting win, or the consternation of the most gut-wrenching loss, we’re drunk on the satisfactions of all of our written words, and we seek solace by gulping down even the quietest celebratory message-board post, or the longest, frustrated diatribe.

Right now, for instance, It’s a crucial time to be a Cubs fan – exciting and painful, all at once. The MLB trade deadline approaches, the team is facing the archrival Crewers in a four-game set, and all week we fans thirst for constant Cubs coverage. From the rational, skittish, inflammatory, and ridiculous to the sublime, it should be a banner week for the entire Cubloggerati in the Cubblogosphere. (Good god, that was so lame it hurt to type.) Out of the vicious circle of blogs MFG visits each day, here’s who’s on their game, so far:

1. Desipio. Like you’re surprised. The inimitable Cubs blog is normally the perfect balance of spite, anger, and tempered enthusiasm. This year, for example, Andy Dolan’s been the most rational of Cubs writers, and still the most bitingly funny. Though more infrequent than most its counterparts, so far this week Desipio featured two game wraps and a new podcast – cathartic reads and humor we needed before a big series. Not too shabby – the only site we’ll ever need raises its game during crunch time. Bonus points for WGN announcer Bob Brenly cheerfully referring to Desipio cult god Henry Blanco as “Hank White” during Saturday’s Marlins game.
2. Goat Riders of the Apocalypse. Not exactly a case study for attractive web design, nor a case study for safe work domain names, the Riders have retooled over the past few years, still featuring Kurt, their most prominent rider. GROTA features several interesting perspectives, including but not limited to: irrationality, pessimism, stat-obsession, rational exuberance and pith. Always good reads, and fairly regular posts.
3. Bleed Cubbie Blue. Only clocking in at No. 3 because of its sheer popularity, BCB is the Applebee’s of Cubs blogs. Somehow the most banal of Cub sites has exploded in recognition, mostly owing to regular namechecks from massive sports blogs like The Big Lead and Deadspin. Now featuring four game threads a night with legions of posters – the typical fans you stay home from Wrigley simply to avoid, all in response to the effervescent Al. Normally, BCB is steadfast in posting recaps, like clockwork, after each game’s last out, and that’s commendable. But last night, instead of a prescient recap after one of the most significant wins of the year, BCB leads with the exhibition Peoria game at Wrigley. Not cool, and who could possibly care? Oh, look, there’s photos! But that’s the kind of family fare you get at BCB. The snark doesn’t come out until Ronny Cedeno singles on the first pitch, and suddenly 17 moronic Fan Posts appear lionizing Cedeno and demonizing Ryan Theriot. There’s your warning. (And, oh, yes, we’re thrilled that the most nationally known Cub blog features “Cubbie” in its title.)
4. The Cub Reporter. A no. 4 slot for the grand-daddy of Cubs minutiae is more punishment than anything. Should be the 800-lb. gorilla of Cubs blogs, they finally extricated themselves from the impossibly bad MVN.com legion of sites. With talented writers, rational, humorous, debate-driven commenters, a cool name, and a long history, how could TCR be strangely absent until today? Surprisingly dark during Monday and Tuesday, we obsessive, compulsive, skittish fans missed the reviews and recaps. Plus its site design nearly cripples Firefox during each launch and employs Times New Roman as a header font. We’re confident they’ll rise back toward the top.
5. Thunder Matt’s Saloon. Always a solid read, but of course this site occupies a special place in Mister Faded Glory’s heart because of our  unabashed, tongue-in-cheek love of Matt Murton. Whatever happened to him, anyway?
6. Hire Jim Essian. Another good read, a newbie compared to our top four, and that’s the only reason it’s so low – I fail to regularly incorporate it into my routine just yet. The Bottom 126, however, is a classic gut-punch down memory lane. Its author is on Desipio’s tandem podcast, which is already infinitely better than the infernal CubsCast.
7. Cub Town. Former TCR scribe Derek’s writing is solid, though he never met a five-word sentence he couldn’t turn into a sonnet. After a promising beginning a few short years ago, it’s largely disappeared from my lexicon, and I struggle to discern why. Infrequent postings? Font issues? The stupidly-named “Baseball Toaster”? I don’t really know. Such is life. It’s still better than…490. Mister Faded Glory. Bringing almost nothing to the table except occasional gushing over Batman or Pearl Jam, MFG routinely destroys his own credibility as a fan, by vacillating between extremes even while spouting annoying platitudes. And who names a blog after a forgotten Mother Love Bone lyric?

Not only is this your July 30 Power rankings, it’s also your guide. Tongue firmly in cheek, however, there’s some silly theme in this post, hinting there exists plenty of room for all of us Cub blogs. Each is funny, insightful and quirky, featuring something for everyone. Well, except MFG, of course. But you already knew that.

Well, obviously I’m back in. And obviously, my panic-stricken moratorium imposed Sunday afternoon is totally kaput.

I mutter to myself, repeatedly, tossing and turning at night, a cathartic phrase. I type it here, and I burn it into my brain. I don’t always live it, but in those sleepless nights, fretting hours away over a team and sport I care too much about, I still say it. You’re never as good as you look when it’s right, and never as bad as you look when it’s wrong.

During the last 36 hours, that’s proven impossibly true.

In the third inning on Sunday, the Cubs continued to flail against their nemesis Marlins – down 5-0 with the inimitable (or totally imitable) Jason Marquis on the bump. Just up the road, Milwaukee chalked up four early runs on sluggish Houston – and the Cubs (including their admittedly schizo fan base) stared at a probable home series loss to the Phish and an uphill climb beginning Monday in hostile Crew territory.

Except during the fourth or fifth inning, the Cubs flipped a switch. They looked like a totally different team. They outlasted the Marlins, and watched Milwaukee’s bullpen implode in a loss to Houston. The Cubs returned to taking pitches, looking the other way, not swinging for Saskatchewan and playing solid defense. They laughed and cheered from the dugout and picked each other up.

And now, a day and half later, the Cubs have taken the first two games of a monstrous series against the rival Brewers, beating the Crew’s two aces, opening a three-game lead in the division. Carlos Zambrano, the stopper, was positively larger than life tonight -  his attitude, swagger, broken bats, eephus pitches, strikeouts, celebrations and exuberance spilling all over hideous Miller Park. (Sorry, I don’t care for the place, even though most people rave about it. It’s ugly to watch on TV, and on WGN tonight, a horrible buzzing sound penetrated the feed all game long.)

Perhaps, just perhaps, the nadir so torturous is now past. It’s unreal – in the last 36 hours, as a skittish fan, I’ve gone from preparing to cast myself fully off a ledge back to muted exuberance. A crisis of faith not quite avoided – but not quite fatal, either.

And, of course, I suppose, there’s a lesson in all these highs and lows and circumstances. Some sort of message about never quite knowing what’s next, what’s ahead, and what lies ’round the corner. I suppose that lesson also includes something about the charm of baseball’s sheer luck, incredulity, and unpredictability. Maybe even a dash of excitement and faith, rather than constant fatalism. (Don’t kid yourself, John: The Cubs and Brewers will go down to the wire, and maybe split this series.)

I suppose the lesson dictates simple enjoyment of sport, and team, and games – rather than enduring wild mood swings causted by constant foreshadowing. I suppose that lesson may suggest a tempered enjoyment of the present, and the lesson to stay on an even keel as a fan – never letting the sky-highs and the hellish-lows control you. I suppose, it’s possible, even, that maybe I learned something from these last 36 hours.

I suppose, anyway. Stop rolling your eyes.

This game of baseball and this team, the Chicago Cubs, will prove to be the end of me. I’ll leave it at that.

On to Milwaukee. Maybe  the scuffling is over, for now, and maybe the North Siders carry some momentum an hour and a half up the road. Good luck.

Somewhere along the line this baseball season turned into pure agony. The first two weeks after the All-Star break, and I’m already yearning for fall, when baseball is over and I don’t have to care about this stuff anymore. So I’m out. Moratorium on all things Cub. I can’t do this, I can’t enjoy this, and I’ve got to find some better way to pass the time. Please read Desipio for your Cubs coverage. Not me.

You’re no doubt totally unsurprised to read my knee-jerk review of Christopher Nolan’s near-masterpiece The Dark Knight. I stand by it. The movie is, quite simply, fantastic. Dark, intense, and suspenseful, TDK furthers the legends of the Caped Crusader, Clown Prince of Crime, Harvey Dent, Jim Gordon, and Gotham City itself. In fact, it may well be the best action movie I’ve ever seen.

However, I misspoke in last Thursday’s pre-review of The Dark Knight. I castigated lazy critics for carrying an agenda into Dark Knight screenings, presuming comic-inspired movies follow a formula in part and parcel (Read: Spider-Man 2, Batman Forever). I claimed The Dark Knight, and Batman lore itself, spanned too many depths to be considered a typical, shallow comic book. Instead, however, The Dark Knight perfectly epitomizes comic books – Batman in particular – and is an uncompromising, lasting testament to the power of comics.

The Dark Knight restores themes visited often in Batman and Joker sagas – the yin and the yang of the pair, the ruthless intensity with which Batman hunts his rival – and his repeated inability to finish the Joker off. For my money, the best part of The Dark Knight occurs as the Joker sits in a holding cell, left unkempt by the police, left for relentless interrogation by Batman – who finally casts all pretense of law and due process aside, resolute in his confrontation of the Joker. For all intent and purpose, Batman is now created – the darkest knight, willing to subjugate any and all to defeat his most destructive foe.

Rather than simple tales of good vs. evil, the best comics deliver staggering commentary into the humanity and inhumanity of heroes and villains, serving as character studies and tapestries, featuring social commentaries and stark, bleak self-truths. The Dark Knight is the latest example of near-perfect comic storytelling.

Comic fans know plots sometimes may be a little inane, a little fast, a little melodramatic. Certain dialogue is stilted, certain conversations couched in platitudes. The Dark Knight is no different – its several moving parts, blips of intersecting storylines and characters are sometimes-disjointed revelations in Gotham. Yet as the audience, we remain committed to the turning pages. We watch intently as the characters evolve. We catch a glimpse of ourselves in the muddled hero Batman – battling inner demons and wrestling with inner solitude, anger and conflict. Bruce’s bleak self-discoveries have kept us glued to Batman pages for decades, and Bale’s incarnation is no less harried, intense, immature or perfectly grey as our favorite hero requires – a spellbinding transformation from mythical city protector (“the Batman”) into deluded, misunderstood myth itself.

In comics we also read about pure evil, and witness diabolical villainry no more stunning in deviance or genius than The Joker. Given no origin story and no hint of background, Ledger’s flat Chicago-inspired accent, devilish lip-licking, and complete disregard for humanity create a villain who simply is – the why completely unimportant. To Ledger’s Joker, each person’s life is a joke, each death a prank – the Joker is not as much a master criminal as a sinister psychopath. Right?

Ledger understands the genius in The Joker’s simplistic evil, and balances it between bewildering complexity of the Joker’s insanity. When Ledger sits forlornly in the interrogation room, beaten and battered, he looks up at his guard. His scarred grin askew, dark eyes dancing – he is the Joker. A wanton madman, completely unhinged – yet improbably genius, improbably still one step ahead of you, his pursuer. Akin to the devil himself. A near-perfect performance.

Walking out of the theater, the most staunch Batman or Joker fans reveled in what novice fans must have learned. We reveled in legitimization of the art we always loved. The Dark Knight isn’t just a comic book movie – it’s the comic book movie. It’s the cause and the effect – the reason for our ultimate love of Batman and the Joker, and the lasting tribute each character deserves.

Batman and the Joker need each other, two foes locked in battle, reinventing each other’s psyche. The Dark Knight knows this, and in step with decades of Batman and Joker battles – A Killing Joke, A Death In the Family, The Laughing Fish, The Dark Knight Returns, The Joker’s Five-Way Revenge- the film and the warring characters continually reveal different glimpses of each other’s muddled, tormented, simplistic or diabolical resolve. At once, each is the dehumanized madman and his insatiable pursuer. As Ledger’s Joker puts it – “The irresistible force meeting the immovable object.”

And as always, you pick who’s who.

You might be wondering where to find your All-Star Break, post-All-Star Break, or mid-month Cubs check-in.

Well, I’ve got no answers. Not until the team masquerading as our Cubs disappears and the real article shows up. This is completely frustrating right now – double plays, inability to move runners, swinging for the fences, it’s mind-boggling. Road woes aside, suffice it to say that if Lee, Ramirez and Soto are not hitting, this team goes nowhere. As an added frustration, DeRosa and Edmonds also are battling funks, and Kosuke Fukudome is Fukuing terrible. Matt Murton at least didn’t swing at every first pitch he saw. At what panicked point do the North Siders trade for Ken Griffey Jr.?

Tough to ignore the parallels of last season – the road-poor, fast-starting Brewers giving way to the peaking Cubs in late July.  This year, the Cubs suddenly are sputtering, and quietly, the Brewers look like they’re rounding into machinelike form. Still, there’s no reason to assume today’s doldrums will last until the end of the season.

The Cubs pitching has become a strength, and assuming the offense returns from the fucking All-Star Break, perhaps Chicago will be in business again. Remember, you’re never as bad as it looks, and never as good as it looks. Cling to that while our lineup full of All-Stars flails at everything, and 2-run deficits seem like utter chasms. This is officially the biggest test of the season, through 100 games, the Cubs are still in first, but just saw the Crew erase five games off the lead. And, oh yeah, our team travels to Miller Park next week. They’ll need to get right before then.

Hang in there, Cubs.

Holy fuck.

If you are a fan of Batman, this is the best action, crime-drama, or superhero movie you will ever see.

Believe the superlatives. All of them. More later.

Stop calling it a comic book movie.

A cursory review of Rotten Tomatoes’ capture of The Dark Knight zeitgeist reveals a consensus lauding the “intense” or “grim” cinematic spectacle;  both fair categorizations. After all, the most hardened Batman fan wouldn’t disagree with either trait.

Some nattering nabobs, however, dare to post negative reviews, subtly miffed after viewing a long, frightening, impossibly dark, crime-noir epic. Really? Poor souls – they completely miss the point of Batman. Even as a character in the Justice League universe throughout the 20th century, Batman never quite fit into a stereotypical comic-book world of Day-glo colors, sunny dispositions, stupid headgear, complete contrivance or  American dreams.

Rather, from his inception, Bruce Wayne became the most conflicted, tormented and frustrated superhero of his supposed genre. In fact, calling Batman a superhero is a stretch – he’s a determined crimefighter, a detective, vigilante, and subconsciously striving for vengeance, acceptance, or simple protection of the city he loves – or owes. He ain’t exactly Clark Kent, aiding various paeans, or Spider-Man, blithely using his powers to score serious trim. (Not that Spider-Man’s the only pithy superhero with a rapier wit in the Marvel universe. Wait. That’s all of them.)

Instead, Batman is the haunted knight, forever doomed to walk the line between good and evil, forever scorned even by his greatest successes, forever harshest on himself. Throughout fifty years, Batman is more than a superhero or comic-book replicant – he’s a literary character, one of the greatest, most-interpreted, most-reinvented, and most fascinating in history. Indiana Jones is a comic-book hero. Jack Bauer is a comic book hero. Iron Man is a comic book hero. To lump Batman in with other comic-book heroes is akin to calling Einstein just a physicist; Mother Teresa just another nun.

Not that Mister Faded Glory demands sublime reviews from every critic in the industry, that’s too much. (Unless you’re churning out Pixar flicks, apparently.) But in a few short hours, we’re off to see Chris Nolan’s latest interpretation of The Dark Knight. If rumors hold true, and if the form exhibited in Batman Begins holds true; then we’re in for an absolute delight.

Like all serious Batman fans, Nolan understands the Dark Knight’s inner conflict (First hint? He calls the movie The Dark Knight.) and Bruce’s demons. Nolan totally gets Batman’s unending role in a fictional Gotham City mimicking the darkest corners of the world. Nolan knows it’s patently unnecessary to dumb down dark undercurrents – Batman is a powerful character, a realistic, imperfect, flawed, human hero. Who knew? Not compromising Batman’s character actually draws people in; the uninitiated gravitating toward the Dark Knight’s powerful dichotomy. Playing smart works – otherwise, the versimilitude is totally lost. Batman relies on realism as opposed to escapism, and critics (and audiences) who expect the opposite are completely abandoned – and totally missing the point:

[[[ EDITORIAL SIDER: I AM ABOUT TO LINK TO SOME PRETENTIOUS CONTRARIAN CRITICS, and, no, I haven't read their full review - but, yes, I am fully versed in their critical pattern to glean their haughty douchebag opinions from a single quote. At any rate, PLEASE WATCH FOR SPOILERS should you click on one of these guys. Gleeful contrarians, they absolutely revel in you hating them, should they ruin a moment of a movie they decided to disdain before punching a ticket. Instead, simply feel sorry for them. ]]]]]

Folks like David Denby of The New Yorker or David Edelstein of New York Magazine, both of whom autotexted a superhero film review before deigning to see Batman. Edelstein calls the flick “sadistic,” presumably he’s never read a Batman comic before nor heard of this strange character “The Joker.” (Where’s Doctor-freaking-Octopus when you need him?) Apparently they hated it in Baltimore, but remember – the Sun also detested The Wire. A few other snobbish New Yorkers trot out poor reviews, at Salon, they race to swim upstream before even our friends at Slate have the chance to flip-flop.

But I could go on – tomorrow morning I’ll post a review of The Dark Knight, and as expected, I’ll absolutely love it. I’ll be thrilled with callbacks to certain Batman or Joker legend, I’ll revel in the Joker’s gleeful nihilism, his destructive insanity, and the darkness within. I’ll practically taste the bleakness, the torture, the “grim intensity” which haunts Bruce Wayne’s every step, absolutely lapping up the very qualities that certain critics and an unenlightened public abhor.

Obviously some people arrive at a Batman flick obviously expecting The Silver Surfer or Human Torch, a wiseguy hero unwittingly saving the day (loudly). They squirm as Bat-villains murder ruthlessly, the body count rising. They’ll leave disappointed after missing out on 90 minutes of explosions, pithy comments, multiple cardboard villains and tidywrap-ups. Sadly, those fools or critics always will be disappointed. But then, Hancock is playing just down the hall. And, oh, boy, does he have some attitude!