Warriors: The Last Performance?

When I see the Golden State Warriors, I think of the Beatles: individual talents who came together to produce magic that will be talked about 50 years after it's gone.

When the Warriors are at their finest, such as the 51-point first quarter against the Nuggets last month, or when they made 24 of 25 shots in the the middle of the Spurs game last week, Warriors basketball is beautiful. All five men are constantly in motion, the ball flits around the court until it finds the open man, and the shot is buried, either from 3-point distance or from above the rim.



But as with the Beatles in the late Sixties, the joy of playing together is dissipating. Superstar forward Kevin Durant didn't sign a long-term contract at the beginning of the season, which will prompt half the teams in the NBA to bid for his services in July. Sports reporters are hectoring him weekly about where he will go, creating cracks in the team's camaraderie. Other key players are also not locked in to long-term contracts and could well leave.

Basketball has made them rich and famous, and without joy it's increasingly tempting to pursue individual goals, whatever they may be.

John, Paul, George, and Ringo went on to varying degrees of success in their subsequent careers, but none achieved the acclaim they had as a group. The young men who comprise the Golden State Warriors have many choices to make and conflicting goals to prioritize in the months ahead.

Not even on their list is the regret they could feel at age 60 if they break up the band too soon. Fans, appreciate them now; sometimes you don't know it's the last performance until it's come and gone.

Sensitive Demolition

Bye-bye to freezing in the grandstands (SF Gate photo)

Thousands of farewells have been written, including our own.

Sir Paul returned after 48 years to say goodbye last August.

The demolition of Candlestick Park has finally begun. Wrecking balls are "imprecise," and dynamite raises too much dust, so dinosaur-like wrecking machines are performing the task slowly over many weeks to minimize environmental damage.

In the San Francisco Bay Area even the demolitions are sensitive.

In Earnest

50 years ago today Cassius Clay changed his name to Muhammad Ali. In 1964 the world heavyweight boxing champion was the most celebrated athlete on the planet, more famous than any quarterback, home-run hitter, or 7-foot center. Ali's conversion to the Nation of Islam was unsettling to Americans and even to blacks, who were mostly Christian.

John F. Kennedy had been assassinated four months earlier, the Beatles with their moptops had invaded America in February, and a young lady named Kitty Genovese would be stabbed to death in New York on March 13th near dozens of witnesses, none of whom lifted a finger or called for help. 

The Sixties had begun in earnest.

"Ladies and Gentlemen.....the Beatles!"

On February 9, 1964, while sitting cross-legged on the floor at my grandparents' house, I watched the Beatles' American debut on the Ed Sullivan show. To my uncomprehending relatives the four young men from Liverpool, with their moptop hair and British accents, could have been from another planet.

Those early tunes were popular, simple, and catchy. Anger, complexity, and other musical influences would come later along with civil rights, war protests, free love, and LSD.

At the time Ed Sullivan probably didn't realize that he was introducing what would become the greatest rock band of all time. Some events, like the invention of the transistor and the publication of Silent Spring, have acquired significance because of what followed. It's now called "the night that changed America," but of course, no one knew it at the time.

Merry Christmas

John Lennon famously stated that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Time has softened the edges of that pronouncement, and what seemed to be inflammatory now barely provokes. But was it true?

Playing with our new toy, Google's Ngram viewer, we find that it's no contest. Jesus wins hands down; references to Him far outstrip those to the Beatles, even in 1966 when John Lennon made the statement. Sorry about that, John.

Jesus is adapting just fine to the age of the Internet. Below is the digital story of the Nativity, which as of this writing has had over six million views. It's good for a chuckle.



Merry Christmas!

Far From Dead

I am not as maniacal as others in my generation, but I have enough of their LPs and CDs to hold my own when discussing the oeuvre. What's astonishing is how many of our children and grandchildren have succumbed to Beatlemania. Maybe not so astonishing, on second thought. The ear, like the heart, wants what it wants.

Two weekends ago on a cool and breezy Saturday night Sir Paul McCartney returned to San Francisco, nearly 44 years after the Beatles' last concert at Candlestick Park. Paul is a marvel. Looking like a man half his age (“an absolute whirlwind”), he skipped and hopped across the stage, donning and doffing various instruments like comfortable slippers. He segued from hard rock to ballads and belted out top-100 standards, all the while joshing with the crowd in his inimitable understated manner.

There were 21st-century pyrotechnics and formidable technical skill displayed by his youthful band, who had perhaps even more technical proficiency than the original Fab Four. But for my money ($150 a pop) the most magical moments consisted of just the man and his guitar or piano, unaccompanied, crooning to a rapt, intimate audience of 40,000 people in the voice that we’ve heard thousands of times before.

Beatles tunes alternated with post-1960’s compositions through the program. With nary a pause the band accelerated into the final hour with hit after hit; being a mega-rockstar appears to be the key to eternal energy, if not eternal life. When the second and final encore rung down (“The End” track from Sgt. Pepper), a happy and mostly sated crowd filed out of the ballpark.

It was standing room only on the late train down the Peninsula, but no one minded. Melodies from our youth played back in our heads, and we were young again. © 2010 Stephen Yuen