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I can’t get the hang of the farmer’s market. I know it’s a weird thing to say, but I’m having real problems figuring out how to use it. The Logan Square Farmer’s Market has moved to the lobby of the Congress Theater for the winter and, while I never went to the outdoor one out of laziness and weekend sleeping-in, I was always curious about and intended to go.

A little history about me and farmer’s markets: I grew up (mostly) around St. Louis, which is home to the Soulard Market, a large and very old (est. 1779!) farmer’s market, to which my parents and I went a total of once. Probably because back then, in the late 80s/early 90s, it was as much flea-market as it was actual produce market, and it probably wasn’t particularly clean and almost certainly didn’t smell very nice. But, being a forward thinking conscientious young Obama voter, I’ve always liked, you know, the idea of farmer’s markets. I’ve just never been very close to one. Until now.

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This post was born on a Friday night when I declared a certain actor to be my favorite B-list actor currently working. A lot goes into this sort of decision. It’s not just a matter of judging on-screen performance. No, finding a favorite B-lister is more a matter of unquantifiable taste: an affinity for the bad movies he or she has appeared in, a formative childhood role, a body of credits that reads more like a list of punchlines, all of that je ne sais quoi. I made my choice for all those good reasons and cited his works. I was devastated, then, to be corrected – my actor had not appeared in most of the movies I had named. Impossible. Couldn’t be. But, of course, a brief flash of an iPhone prove it could be. It was. Half of the films in which I had identified this man had not featured him at all. It had been someone else, somehow. A fake, an impostor. I had confused my man with someone else, combining their collected screen appearances into what I thought was the greatest CV ever compiled by a second-tier actor. I was wrong. So wrong that I am determined now to make sure you never have to suffer the same embarrassment and heartbreak that I have suffered.

(PS – I still love you Elias Koteas. Nothing can change that)

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mauer

To be human is to know conflict.  Without something to push against, life fades almost to meaninglessness (at least to a sort of Western, dramatic way of thinking).  If it is not to lead to simply the triumph of the mighty, and the probable and ultimate death of one side, conflict must have recourse to some sort of external resolving factor.  Without the arbitrary decision of a third party, two sides of a fight could merely keep extending their claim to the right ad infinitum unto the grave, forced or of old age.  Humans being what they are, though, arbitration is not always satisfactory; bias and simple stupidity can stand in the way.
Enter technology; as the means to record events more and more accurately have increased over the centuries since more or less the invention of literacy, aids to accessing the truth of the world have multiplied.  These records and instruments can be put to all kinds of use for matters judicial and legal, of course; “the camera doesn’t lie”, so they say (said).  Perhaps inevitably, as technology has become more sophisticated, the calls of those who want to eliminate uncertainties arising from the human factor in arbitration have grown louder.  Eliminate the human, and you eliminate errors and biases, they say.  The truth of what actually happened will shine through from underneath the muddy layers of human stupidity; the Rashomon gate will become the scene of certainty.  DNA evidence will show beyond the shadow of a doubt who murdered that man.  Federer’s forehand will be shown to have landed outside the line.
Sports, being fundamentally struggle and conflict, has always made recourse to third party arbitration when available.  The higher the stakes, the more important the role of the arbitrator; the Lakers and the Celtics are not going to make their own foul calls with so much on the line.  Bias is almost always assured in human contests, and often acted upon.  The more the contest means to those involved, the more they will lie and cheat to a favorable (if tainted, no matter) result.  Or at least, it’s possible.  So officials of all kinds arrived to render decisions based on the stated rules of the game, some with more help than others (officiating a horse race is probably easier than refereeing a hockey game, for instance).
As more aids to increasing the signal in a field of noise present themselves in real life, so do they in sports.  HawkEye technology, strikezone metrics, video replay, drug testing; more and more, one hears about these things entering the referee’s world, looking to do his job better than he, and hopefully someday taking his job.  The thinking, presumably, is that one must strip away from the game all trappings of error, potential bias, and interpretation for the true game to shine through, for the result to be purely a measure of which team or contestant is better on the day.  This thinking, though, ignores much of what makes sports so compelling from a dramatic, artistic, and moral perspective and operates from an understanding of sports as a measure of objective truth rather than exercise in conflict.
This thinking is to be resisted.
Sports are narrative in shape, if not in purpose.  While sporting matches do not illuminate aspects of the world in a referential sense, they nonetheless take the shape of stories.    Forces gather, collide, pong around, and the conflict ends one way or another.  Like a story, though, rarely are there two agents shaping the course of the events.  Outside forces great and small, invisible and blatant, get thrown into the mix.  Thor is fighting against the giants again, but Loki pulls the strings; Stringer Bell tries to hold the Police at bay, but Omar wends through the chess match like a three-year old upsetting the board.  Sorry; you get the idea.
If one views sports through this lens, “objective truth” matters about as much as the legality of the drug trade in Baltimore.  This ain’t cribbage; this ain’t a courthouse.  The umpire blowing the call in the baseball game, his expanding strike zone, and his hasty ejection of a pitcher are as much a part of the game as bats, bases, and gloves are.  As Fredorrarci points out in this post, justice works differently in sports, just another piece on the board rather than the over-arching system.  Objective truth gives way to Werner Herzog’s ecstatic truth; a truth viewed in the midst of acting, of doing, of creating; a truth beyond fact.
Sports both comprise part of the modern, mechanized world, and transcend it.  As most readers of the more interesting sporting blogs on the internet know, sports are as much aesthetic as athletic.  All the Myoplex and Rolex timers in the world can’t wipe the absolutely fucking silly grin off of my face as I watch Usain Bolt run the 200m.  All those pre-planned diets fade to grey muck when Thierry Henry bends a half-volley in at the very far upper corner.  Sports illuminate aspects of what it means to be human just as music, cinema, and literature do.  Sports are the arts of the body in conflict.  
And yet, there are those so obsessed with sports as a measure of winners and losers that they would discard the referee as a failure and replace him with perfection.  In replacing a figure who might blow the call with a computer, fans concerned with some kind of Fordist perfection fall victim to modernity’s trap.  Progress runs amok and stamps out the random, the unpredictable, the tempestuous.  Society is mechanized and perfected enough; let the wildness show through, and the observer can learn lessons of another type.  Conflicts rarely go as planned; contingencies, freak occurrences, and bad weather can blast the most perfectly planned operation to smithereens.  Nazi tanks bog down in the Russian mud; the umpire sees the ball land foul.
Even if the calls would always be correct in matters of fact (fair/foul, in/out, first/just behind, caught/trapped), there are increasing cries for using technology to determine intent in sports.  This is utter nonsense.  The best example of this is the dive in soccer, or rather, the “intent to deceive the referee”, as the laws call it.  It is right there in the name: intent.  What is intent?  Is it like motive in a murder case on television?  All the replay in the world cannot establish whether a player INTENDED to do anything, even if he could be shown OBJECTIVELY to have began to fall forward before the defender’s cleats arrived.  This still does not prove intent, despite the screams of the masses (mostly for the losing team) to “stamp out diving”.  All it proves is that he started falling over before the shoes appeared.  The NFL has thankfully drawn limits around what can be reviewed by instant replay to matters of visual fact.
In the main, though, the dramatic question is the overriding one.  Maradona’s goal versus England in 1986, scored with his hand, is legendary.  Had there been technology available to judge this moment, a whole host of narrative intrigue that went on for weeks is obliterated.  To be sure, England’s players probably would tell me to stuff my drama directly up my ass, and perhaps I should.  But all my stuffing wouldn’t take away the fact that at least four of them had let the same Maradona skip past them in the same contest.
This last point is also very important.  No sporting event of any length comes down to one moment.  There are hundreds of disasters waiting to happen to either side in a contest, and no one moment is deciding.  To be sure, they may be evenly matched except for that one moment, but more often than not, one moment of scandal is counterbalanced by nine or ten moments of just poor performance.  Fortune plays a part in conflict; Fortune plays a part in life.  If one could say that there is any kind of spiritual dimension to sport, it is that humans are subject to luck, to strokes of things beyond their control.  Many things happen in life that are beyond folks’ control, and sports are no different.  The wisdom of letting go, of letting moments of ill favor happen in order to transcend them, is a wisdom as old as human’s relationships with gods.  The HawkEye machine knows no such wisdom; it knows only in, or out.

 

[Many thanks to Sport Is a TV Show and the Run of Play for inspiration - Ed.]

To be human is to know conflict.  Without something to push against, life fades almost to meaninglessness (at least to a sort of Western, dramatic way of thinking).  If it is not to lead to simply the triumph of the mighty, and the probable and ultimate death of one side, conflict must have recourse to some sort of external resolving factor.  Without the arbitrary decision of a third party, two sides of a fight could merely keep extending their claim to the right ad infinitum unto the grave, forced or of old age.  Humans being what they are, though, arbitration is not always satisfactory; bias and simple stupidity can stand in the way.

 

Enter technology; as the means to record events more and more accurately have increased over the centuries since more or less the invention of literacy, aids to accessing the truth of the world have multiplied.  These records and instruments can be put to all kinds of use for matters judicial and legal, of course; “the camera doesn’t lie”, so they say (said).  Perhaps inevitably, as technology has become more sophisticated, the calls of those who want to eliminate uncertainties arising from the human factor in arbitration have grown louder.  Eliminate the human, and you eliminate errors and biases, they say.  The truth of what actually happened will shine through from underneath the muddy layers of human stupidity; the Rashomon gate will become the scene of certainty.  DNA evidence will show beyond the shadow of a doubt who murdered that man.  Federer’s forehand will be shown to have landed outside the line.

Continue Reading »

A four part dispatch from guest contributor CT Terry.

Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy” took the better part of two decades to record and release. It’s a dense, bewildering album that can’t be judged as a whole because there is so much going on, a lot of which is brilliant, but plenty of which is schlock. In an effort to figure out what is going on in this record, and to decide if I like it, I went through it, cataloging and responding to every part of every song. –CT Terry

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I went to see Zombieland. It’s not a movie I’d normally go see, especially since the trailers I’ve seen make do it absolutely no service whatsoever. In fact, the trailers are what made me not want to see the movie at all. The makers of these trailers have made the film look completely unappealing. They are utter failures, and they should know this. But I went anyway, mostly because I was asked to go by a cute girl. And, despite my expectations, I enjoyed the movie. I’m not the type to deny these things. But it’s also the dumbest movie I’ve ever seen. (spoilers follow, because I don’t care)

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A four part dispatch from guest contributor CT Terry.

Part Three: Classic G’n’R Tropes

Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy” took the better part of two decades to record and release. It’s a dense, bewildering album that can’t be judged as a whole because there is so much going on, a lot of which is brilliant, but plenty of which is schlock. In an effort to figure out what is going on in this record, and to decide if I like it, I went through it, cataloging and responding to every part of every song. –CT Terry


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Writers and filmmakers have long discussed the advances in film technology from the days of the Lumière brothers to the modern RED HD cameras with six gajillion-by-six-gamillion resolution capabilities.  Most of these discussions focus on things like color saturation, lighting, resolution, depth of focus, and asepct ratio.  However, we at Running Downhill, always striving to offer new insights into cinema history, would like to take the discussion in a different direction, and focus on technological improvements allowing for a more important artistic insight, namely, the sheen on sweaty heavy men.  Thus, Running Downhill presents below ten of the most sweaty, fat performances in cinema history.  Enjoy.

See also <i>Touch of Evil</i>

See also Touch of Evil

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A four part dispatch from guest contributor CT Terry

Part Two: “Modern…but classy”


Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy” took the better part of two decades to record and release. It’s a dense, bewildering album that can’t be judged as a whole because there is so much going on, a lot of which is brilliant, but plenty of which is schlock. In an effort to figure out what is going on in this record, and to decide if I like it, I went through it, cataloging and responding to every part of every song.

Continue Reading »

I’ve written a quick little thing about Arsenal over at Arsenal Station.  We’re diversifying!

vermaelen-and-vanpersie

A four part dispatch from guest contributor CT Terry

Part One: Unnecessary Shredding

Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy” took the better part of two decades to record and release. It’s a dense, bewildering album that can’t be judged as a whole because there is so much going on, a lot of which is brilliant, but plenty of which is schlock. In an effort to figure out what is going on in this record, and to decide if I like it, I went through it, cataloging and responding to every part of every song.

Continue Reading »

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