Shallow | Center

An 'Amazing' Return?

Phil Koeghan and Co. Try to Recapture What Made the Race Such a Must-See

Memories of the disastrous "Family Edition" of CBS' Amazing Race have faded sufficiently to allow me to approach tonight's premiere of the series's latest installment with optimism. Having four-member teams, some of them with children, competing severely hampered the Race's trademark manic style, and kept the action in the United States for way too many episodes. The show bogged down in dull Detours and Roadblocks and ultimately uninteresting family dynamics, and I stuck around more out of blind loyalty than anything else. The hope here is that the return of two-person teams careening around the world will allow a more nimble Race to recover its mojo and reclaim its rightful place as reality TV's best. Thankfully, Scrubs is available as a terrific backup option, but I'd really prefer for my Tuesday night to be Amazing.

Everybody Hurts

Bell Ails Again, While Worrell and Wagner Whine Some More

WHATEVER THE OVER-UNDER was on the date of David Bell's first injury of the season, I hope you took the under. Once again the Phillies' perennially aching third baseman is on the shelf, this time with a sore elbow. Bell is a good soldier, a quiet guy who plays the game the right way, and when he's healthy he's a solid player. But he spends an awful lot of time nicked up, and I can't help but wish that Ed Wade had had the foresight to anoint Placido Polanco as the Phils' everyday third sacker. And that's without even considering that dealing Polly brought the Phillies Venezuela's most famous ne'er-do-well, Ugueth Urbina.

Bode Blows

Miller's Miscues Are Just Too Bad, Huh?

THIS IS GOING to sound un-American, so nobody tell Karl Rove, but I'm rather glad that Bode Miller was such a wipeout in Turin. Obnoxious hotshots are so not my bag, and to see one of them engaging in a first-class choke is sweet comeuppance. It's like having the quarterback of your high school team, the one who got all the girls and wore the coolest clothes and broke the rules without getting caught, throw four interceptions in the state championship game. You're sorry your team lost, but a part of you takes petty pleasure in watching Captain Smoothie fail so spectacularly. I suspect young Bode repaired to a nearby watering hole to drown his sorrows, which is fine -- it's something he's apparently quite good at. Thankfully, it'll be another four years before I have to hear his name again, and by then, I'm sure, someone else, some high-flying snowboarder, perhaps, will have annoyed his way into my consciousness. About the only downside I can see is that Miller's disappearing act confirms the overseas impression of Americans as loud, rude bullies who can't get out of their own way when it comes to walking the walk. Way to go, Bode.

'Wedding' Bland

Wilson and Vaughn's Vehicle Starts Strong Before Crashing

THE PROBLEM with the recent spat of bad-lad movies -- Old School, Anchorman, Dodgeball, and the like -- is that once you've seen the trailer, you've seen what you need to see. The rest is largely filler. And so it is with Wedding Crashers, a genial, amusing, and completely inconsequential comedy with bad-lad stalwarts Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. The boys play a pair of confirmed bachelors who slip uninvited into weddings in order to take advantage of lovestruck bridesmaids, and the picture's first half-hour, which showcases their tactics and conquests in rapid-fire fashion, is an awful lot of fun. It's also awfully familiar -- most of the gags were previously seen in TV commercials and previews. And so when Wilson's John falls for one of his targets, the beguiling Rachel McAdams, the crashing falls off and the movie really has nowhere to go. It sags back into very conventional romantic-comedy territory, despite valiant attempts by Vaughn and the always reliable Christopher Walken to continue bringing the funny. Wedding Crashers' big heart proves to be its undoing -- in the end, it brings a tastefully wrapped gift from the couple's registry instead of spiking the punch and bagging the maid of honor.

Rating: **1/2 (of 5)

Citizens Bank Spark

The Return of One of Phlogdom's Best Serves to Inspire

THE E-MAIL'S subject line was "I have returned," and in the message, Michael Berquist said simply:

I'm pleased to announce that I've decided to return to blogging effective March 6th.  I've been avoiding blogging and baseball for the last six months b/c I was so burned out, but I've got the bug again.

I'm back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And damned if there wasn't a similar announcement on Mike's site, the incomparable Citizen's Blog, last Saturday. As if to prove his own point about the bug's return, he then went and posted some thoughts about Jimmy Rollins's hitting streak on Wednesday. Having blogged in fits and starts myself over the last several weeks, I've come to realize that I, too, miss the extraordinarily fulfillment that regular posting gives me. I write less and less as my career advances, and one of the primary reasons this site was launched two-and-a-half years ago was to give me a way to scratch that itch. Seeing the level of discourse offered on a daily basis by the Phlogosphere makes me want to jump back into the conversation. And so starting tonight, starting with tonight's sit, I'm rededicating myself to doing this, and doing it right.

Unless I decide otherwise in a few months.

Meantime, welcome back, Mike. I look forward to reading your thoughts -- and those of everyone else engaged in this dialogue -- over the coming weeks and months.

Headset Headaches

The Phils' Silly Broadcast-Booth Soap Opera Returns

BOBBY ABREU insists he's a happy training camper, the players are posing for Xbox pictures, Scott Palmer is stealing even more of my season-ticket money, and the rotation and bullpen continue to appear lacking. Yet apparently the big story out of Clearwater is that Harry Kalas still can't get any love from his bosses. Initial plans for 2006 have Chris Wheeler inexplicably getting to do all nine innings on TV, the first and last three with Kalas, despite the long-standing and well-known distaste Harry has for his painfully sycophantic colleague. Meanwhile, Kalas's pal, Larry Andersen, with whom he actually has some chemistry, will be sent packing to radio exclusively.

The Next Big Things

Two Months In, Philadelphia Weekly Handicaps 2006

YOU WOULDN'T THINK that late February would be the time to make predictions about the year ahead, but the alternative weeklies aren't ones to hew to convention. And so Philadelphia Weekly trots out a "Next" cover story this week, offering crystal-ball analyses of what to expect for the rest of 2006 and early 2007. There's a predictable if reasonably entertaining mix of obscure Center City hipsterness (Next Legendary Dive Bar: Oscar's Tavern) and putative in-your-face contrarianism (Next Foodie Paradise: The Great Northeast), but for my money the sole spot-on call is for Next Big Beer: Yards's Philadelphia Pale Ale. Hunker down with a couple of drafts at Standard Tap or the Cherry Street Tavern some night and see if you don't agree.

That's One Tall Step for Man, One Venti Leap for Mankind

Fighting the Power, One Cup at a Time

SO I'M AT Starbucks late this afternoon, having decided to kick back for a few minutes with a decaf, and I do what I always do: eschew the chain's absurd, faux-European size designations and ask for a "medium." Not once has the chick behind the counter -- sorry, the "barista" -- ever held out and waited for me to say "grande" instead. I always get my medium, as I did today, and I always get the (very) small satisfaction of thwarting corporate America's furious attempts at mind control. Power to the people, man. Or, as my brother would say, get a haircut, hippie.

(I know, I know -- you waited almost five days for a post, and you get this? Hey, it's spring training -- if the guys in the Show can take it easy until the real games start, then so can I.)

Season's Greetings

An In-Print Shout-Out of Sorts; Will Fame and Fortune Follow?

EVERY SATURDAY, the Inquirer takes one or more posts from its Blinq blog and runs it/them in the paper. This week sees the publication of Dan Rubin's Tuesday Wednesday post on various Phillies bloggers' takes on the start of spring training -- and what we were blathering about during the long, not-so-cold winter. Lo and behold, Dan leads his piece with some musings from yours truly on movies and the Philadelphia Auto Show -- but, uh, lists my little site as "Shallow Season." I had meant to e-mail him earlier in the week when the online piece appeared, but just never got around to it. What is it they say about there being no such thing as bad publicity, so long as they spell your name right?

Spring Loaded

Pitchers and Catchers Arrive in Clearwater; 'Nuff Said

IF OPENING DAY is like Christmas to a baseball fan, then the first day of spring training is like the beginning of Advent. For the next six weeks or so, we prepare. We study rosters, analyze personnel moves, observe trends ... and we pray. This is Philadelphia, after all -- while Santa may not leave us a big ol' lump of coal every year, he certainly delivers plenty of boring socks and hideous ties that we'll never wear, even on a bet.