The fault in our stars? More thoughts on California Chrome and the ‘unfairness’ of life

June 9, 2014

So Cinderella turned out to be just as unpalatable as her stepsisters. By that I mean that the world is a little less enamored of Steve Coburn since he started crying foul – repeatedly – after his horse, California Chrome, lost his Triple Crown bid at the Belmont Stakes to Tonalist, who didn’t run in the Kentucky Derby or Preakness.

I never thought Coburn and the partner were interesting. I mean, how classy can you be when you name your venture Dumb Ass Partners? No, what was fascinating, beautiful, a dream, was that bright as a penny of a horse with his blaze and four white socks and curiosity about us two-legged types and poise and smarts and heart and in the end, none of it was enough.

And that’s heartbreaking but such is life. I still agree with Coburn, though, that it isn’t fair to come into the Belmont all fresh as a daisy and play spoiler. And I see that plenty in the blogosphere were thinking what I was thinking: You have to play every round of the French Open to get to the final.

The end of a California (Chrome) dream

June 8, 2014

How is it that you can fall in love with someone you don’t know?

What if that someone were a horse?

Millions of us fell in love with California Chrome these past few weeks and millions of us got our hearts broken as he finished out of the money in Saturday’s Belmont Stakes, which increasingly seems to be won by a horse you don’t care about. This year it was Tonalist, who didn’t run in the Kentucky Derby or the Preakness. He’s named for an art principle. (In more than 30 years covering the arts, I never once used the term tonalism. Let’s just admit it’s a pretentious name, and leave it at that, shall we?)

Anyway, CC’s more voluble owner, Steve Coburn, did Chromies no favors...

Borg and McEnroe: a tennis love story

June 4, 2014

No, not that kind of love story. And certainly not the spicy, sensual goings-on of my new novel “Water Music.” But long before there was Fedal, Rafanole and Novandy, there was – well, they didn’t combine names in those days, did they? So there was Björn and Johnny Mac – a tennis rivalry and bromance set to the Stones and Sex Pistols, with a little ABBA thrown in for good measure.

I’ve been looking back on them in “Epic: John McEnroe, Björn Borg and the Greatest Tennis Season Ever” by Matthew Cronin (John Wiley & Sons Inc., 2011). It’s part history lesson, part psychological study. As a history lesson, it is, as Mac himself might say, “the pits.” I never trust a title, nor use phrases, that proclaim such-and-such the greatest ever, because you know what? Time ain’t over.

The Clippers deal and what the market will bear

June 2, 2014

Why is everybody up in arms about sports nut Steve Ballmer buying the Los Angeles Clippers for $2 billion?The team, people say, is worth $750 million at best. It’s all about the television rights jacking up the price in the second biggest market, others say.

I say it’s only about one thing – what the market will bear. It’s like the art market. (Or the stock market.) You pay $95 million for a Van Gogh, it’s worth $95 million. Now is a Van Gogh worth $95 million? Actually, I’d have to say that since he was a great artist – a great dead artist who can’t make any more paintings – then a Van Gogh is priceless. But we don’t live in a world of aesthetics. We live in a world of insurance policies – so much if your roof is damaged, so much if your windshield is cracked. Everything has its price, which is not the same as its value.

Greenwich Polo Club gallops into another season

May 31, 2014

There’s no Prince Harry to spice up the Greenwich Polo Club this year, but that doesn’t mean fans aren’t in for an exciting season.

Things get off to a rollicking start Sunday, June 1 with the White Birch home team – named after club founder Peter Brant’s White Birch Farm and White Birch Paper – in action against CT Energia. The home team will be led by Argentina’s Mariano Aguerre, considered one of the all-time greats, and his fleet countryman Hilario Ulloa. In April, the two teamed to help Alegria take the U.S. Open title.

The polo club is set in Greenwich’s verdant, undulating backcountry. Recently, I had a chance to chat there about the season with Australia’s Nick Manifold, who’ll be playing No. 2, an offensive position, for CT Energia Sunday. What a treat it was to sit out in the grandstand on a picture-perfect spring day, the cottony cumulus clouds so ripe and low that they seemed ready to touch the Jim Dine sculpture (think a huge, modern “Winged Victory”) that stands guard across the field. As the staff put the finishing touches on the immaculately manicured expanse and added patrons’ nameplates to the box seats, Nick gave this relative newbie a polo primer, something I was extremely grateful for as my one experience with the game had been last May’s Sentebale charity match starring Prince Harry and Nacho Figueras that was an otherworldly media event. (Polo does, however, figure in “Criterion,” the third novel in my “The Games Men Play” series, the story of a star-crossed equestrian family told in part from the viewpoint of a horse trying to win the Triple Crown.)

When love only means zero

May 30, 2014

You have to feel for Caroline Wozniacki and not just because she lost in the first round of the French Open, although that’s certainly tough.

But she no doubt lost, because she was dumped recently by her fiancé Rory McElroy – over the phone no less, he having gone on to win some important golf tournament. (I know: The phrase “important golf tournament” is certainly oxymoronic.)

The axiom is that when the going gets tough, the tough transcend, and that has certainly always been my attitude. When faced with any crisis, tragedy or disappointment, I always redouble my efforts professionally, as have many athletes ranging from McElroy to tennis great Martina Navratilova. Indeed, the idea of the team “winning one for the Gipper” and Pagliacci laughing on the outside for an audience even as he cries on the inside are such time-worn traditions in our culture that they’ve become clichés.

But there are times when the heart can’t transcend, because it’s so heavy or so broken. I remember when Nole got trounced by Rafa in the finals in Monte Carlo after learning that his grandfather had died.

Does this (pants) role make me look fat?

May 27, 2014

“I hate looksism,” I told my friends the other night at dinner, though truth be told, I’m as guilty of it as the next person.

I was reminded of this while reading an article in the May 24 edition of The New York Times’ Arts section titled, “What Matters More, the Singer’s Shape, or Her Sound?”, in which critics Anthony Tommasini and Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim spoke with reporter Michael Cooper about the brouhaha over Tara Erraught’s appearance – emphasis on the word “appearance” – as Octavian in the Glyndebourne music festival’s production of Richard Strauss’ “Der Rosenkavalier.”

For the uninitiated, “Der Rosenkavalier” is an easy-on–the-eyes-and -ears opera about an older woman learning to let go of her young lover. (It has a justly famous waltz that makes gorgeous use of sequential phrases, played by the orchestra’s string section, which George Balanchine used to cap off his glittering ballet “Vienna Waltzes.”)

The older woman, called the Marschallin, is one of those glamorous soprano roles, sung by the likes of Renee Fleming. At Glyndebourne, it was filled fetchingly by Kate Royal. The lover, Octavian, is a pants role in which a mezzo has to pretend to be a handsome youth. Erraught, who apparently sang gloriously, is a woman with a classic pear shape, which neither lends itself to pants nor suggests slim-hipped James Deans. And the (male) critics let her have it, signaling out her “puppy fat.”

Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim’s analysis got to the heart of the problem for those critics...