"Knockout"

I was watching this shlock boxing movie on Turner Classic Movies, whose name I don’t remember, starring people I don’t remember and if I did I would have no idea who they were.  But man, were those guys fake-punching their hearts out!

(It was not TCM’s “Finest Hour.”  The word “Classic” was shading its eyes.)

Anyway, the film’s motif reminded me of the first Taxi episode I wrote.  Which was the second produced Taxi episode of the series. 

I once explained to someone that I had written the second Taxi script, the second Cheers script and the second Cosby Show script, and they said, “Earl!  You were one script away from a billion dollars!”

Anyway…

Let me tell you something about writers.

Sometimes, you think you made stuff up, and it turns out later, it was not quite the case.  I know that sounds technically like “Plagiarism.”  But this isn’t on purpose.  It’s just a million things fly into your head, and when they fly out, you think at least some of them are yours.

Two small – post-“Statute of Limitations” – examples.

I am creating Best of the West.  I pick the name for the local bar.  I call it The Lucky Chance Saloon.  Years later, I am watching a Clark Gable western I have apparently already seen, because there, displayed prominently – to my startled and innocent surprise – is The Lucky Chance Saloon!

A slightly larger example, though one not rising to courtroom adjudication.

A premising element in Best of the West is the fact that “Southern Belle” Elvira met her new husband, former “Yankee” officer Sam, while he was burning her plantation to the ground.

Years later, but again, clearly also before, I watched She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, where exactly the same thing happened with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara.

I couldn’t believe it!

“Yeah, yeah.”

I couldn’t!  Both that that relationship setup was not original to me, and that burning down their plantations was such a “turn on” for “Southern Belles.”

Though in no way deliberate, it would therefore not be surprising if I “remembered” but thought I made up the second episode of Taxi.

Here’s how early this was in Taxi’s development.  The episode, ultimately called “One Punch Banta”, was originally called “One Punch Ryan”, because the “boxer” character was intended to be Irish, but then Tony Danza – an actual professional boxer – came in, captured the role, and changed the ethnicity.

(An interesting tidbit for uninteresting parties.) 

Anyway, maybe it was the spirit of Rocky, maybe it was the true story of Chuck Wepner (“The Bayonne Bleeder”), I don’t know.  But I brought in the idea that boxer-in-the-show Tony Banta, for a few extra bucks, gets a job, sparring with the middle-weight champion before an upcoming “Title” fight, and during the sparring, Banta knocks the vaunted “Champion” on his butt.

Suddenly, Banta’s a “hot fighter”, earning a shot at a “Top Ten” contender.  (Which I originally pitched as he actually got to fight the “Champ”, but my more experienced bosses sensibly lowered the stakes.)

Then, in a pre-fight moment, Tony learns that the sparring “knockdown” was a setup.  The “Champ” had seemed unbeatable, and his “handlers” needed a detectable “weakness” to heat up the betting.
 

Which leads to the “Big Payoff” – Banta, entering the ring against a “Top Ten” contender he has no business fighting.  (We do the “comedy” version, rather than the “Brain Damage” version.)

That was my first Taxi episode.

It came off quite well.  (The “Guest ‘Contender’” was Carlos Palomino, which means “My friend” in Italian, and if it doesn’t, it should.)  (Sorry.  I am still not well.)

If the idea sounds familiar, let me know.

I enjoy making stuff up.

But not if I didn’t.

"Cautionary Warning For Writers"

(Note:  I was going through the recycling bin searching for a discarded article, when it occurred to me I could find it on-line.  I love the Internet.  It keeps you out of the garbage.  When you remember it’s there.)

To be filed for aspiring opinion writers under:

“Don’t do it like this.”

The Dodgers had been bounced from the playoffs.  Even earlier than the last two seasons when they weren’t bounced till they lost the World Series.  I’m kind of glad they went out earlier.  I don’t know if I could handle a third Series bouncing.

Everyone’s bummed when it’s abruptly over, especially after a Dodger 106-win season, which gave hope, but then ultimate despair.  Not “ultimate”, like it was the worst despair you could ever imagine but after a long season it is ultimate enough.

So here comes this L.A. Times sports columnist, chronicling the “Post Mortem”, which is not really a “mortem”, but feels like a “mortem” to long-suffering Dodgers fans.  (No World Series love since 1988.)

Now remember the headline for this piece, which you can’t because I haven’t mentioned it to you yet but now I will.

“Dodgers must be bold in acquiring players necessary to win World Series”

Awright!   We’re licking our wounds.  Looking for answers.  Let’s ride!

Slow down, cowboy.

In a kind of conceptual “curve ball” the columnist covers the bases – I know, but they fit – concerning how the Dodgers and other contending teams handle the issue of risk-taking.

A “Compendium of ‘Bold’”, if you will, and how these cases ultimately panned out.

For example,

In 2016, the Cubs gave up a budding superstar – do I need to do names?

“No.”

… gave up a budding superstar to acquire a player who helped them win their first World Series Championship in 108 years.

That worked out well.

Two years later, however, the player the Cubs let go is now a postseason standout,

and the playoff-deprived Cubbies are watching at home.

So I guess, “Great news – ‘What do you expect it’s the Cubs’ news.”

Speaking against risk-taking...

There was this available relief pitcher the Dodgers wanted but were unable to land, who was later arrested on sexual assault charges.

So “Phew!”  (Sub-Section:  “Risk-taking can be risky.  And occasionally ugly.”

Then there’s the Dodgers, retaining their team-owned “prospects”, many of who became All-Stars, but not winning the World Series.

As opposed to the Houston Astros, giving up three Top-Ten “prospects” for one “game-changing” pitcher, and winning it all.

The writer imagines this range of risk-taking alternatives, including the Dodgers going “half-in” on a middle-expensive “free agent.”

None of that pertains this story.

Which I am somewhat sorry I made you slog through.

I have this rule.  It is unfair to criticize a writer for not writing what you wanted them to write.

I am breaking that rule.

Because this is just too much.

What we have here is a column about “risk-taking”, ending with

“… to win, the Dodgers will have to do something new.  They will have to be bold.”

Without a single mention of what they should do!

A guy’s writing about “Bold”? 

Show me some “Bold!”

Instead, a thirsty guy goes, “Water!”, and we get a lecture on drainage.

I mean, a “General Survey on Risk-Taking” is swell.

But how about some risk-taking ideas?

You know, because I frequently do it myself, I thought the writer had run out of time with his preambling “build-up” and would be back next with the actual goods.

But you know what?

The next day, the writer’d simply moved on.

"Checking In"

I used to be in the sitcom business.  So when a new season begins, it is my habit to see how they’re doing.  It’s like visiting the old neighborhood to see what they’ve torn down.

Which is my first judgment, having not said, “…see what they’ve made better.”

The CBS sitcoms are the closest to what I used to do, so I inevitably sample them first.

Okay.

You may now reasonably expect “A survey of new sitcoms, from the eyes of a revered veteran of “The Golden Age of Half-Hour Comedy.”

I cannot do that.

Times are different today.

‘Nuff said.

Except this.

In an Emmy Award acceptance speech I once imagined I said, on the way to something instantly quotable:

“I don’t understand writers competing for prizes.  Everyone works hard and does the best they know how.”

I did not just “pretend-say” that so the losers would feel better.  Not to mention veteran writers who had never been nominated, and had no idea why.  

(Here’s at least one reason why.  There are award-magnet “Glamor Shows”, and there are – switching genres from sitcoms to westerns – The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp.  Which was a pretty good western.  Especially if you like extended gun barrels.   See:  “The Buntline Special.”)  (I may take this out later.  If I don’t, I probably should have.)  (Remember, I have still got bronchitis.)

It is my view that no one from “back then” can honestly assess what people are doing right now.  I watch new sitcoms like Bob “Hearts” Abishola and Carol’s Second Act, I see likable stars, comfortable concepts – minimal risk-taking, but you do what they let you – stories where things appear to go wrong, then they finally go right, plenty of jokes along the way – then it’s “So long, and we’ll see you next week.”

Sidestepping prejudicing judgment, what I see is “Everyone works hard and does the best they know how.”

“But did you laugh?”

Not yet.  But I remain hopeful.

I keep watching, searching for something.  Something like – asking forgiveness for the primordial reference – watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show pilot and hearing,

“You’ve got spunk!  (BEAT)  I hate spunk!”

And then I found one.

It’s called The Unicorn.  (Either an actual Internet term, or something made up by writers to fool old people and it did.)

Forget the premise.  (Another personal judgment.  And you know what they’re worth.)  A recently widowed father, raising two girls alone.  Delete “two girls”, insert “Three Sons”, and it’s Fred MacMurray, 1960. 

Though that’s no sin.   Mary Tyler Moore itself – plucky young female, struggling out on her own – is, among other things, Our Miss Brooks (1952), changing the newsroom to a classroom, and The Gale Storm Show, “Oh Suzanna” (1956), changing the newsroom to a cruise ship.  

Ignoring the concept, I dial my sensors to “a line of dialogue that stands out.”, something “Left Field” surprising that ticklingly “catches my fancy.” 

And on The Unicorn I hear this:

They are explaining the lead character’s unique “Unicorn” status in Internet dating – neither divorced, nor ravaged by terrible relationships.  It was his beloved late wife, and that’s it.  Making him, according to a married female friend,

“Factory fresh.”

To which her husband quickly appends,

“Technically, you’re like ‘Certified Pre-Owned.”

To which she instantly scolds:

“Why do you have to put your own spin on everything?” 

Did you hear it?  The sound of imaginative “Fresh Air.”

Fully sufficient, in a “Good enough” way, was “Factory Fresh” and “Certified Pre-Owned.” 

(Comedy Punch Lines Hitting Their Targets):  “Bam!  Bam!”

But no.  On The Unicorn they added the startling,

“Why do you have to put your own spin on everything?”

(Which, I admit, somewhat sensitively hit home.)

I got another surprise later.  A good sign when the bright eye blinks twice.

A third Dad in the group, admonished “You don’t lie to your kids”, replies,

“That’s all I do is lie to my kids.”

Again, ‘”Good enough.”  But then he adds,

“I drive them places, and lie.”

De-licious.

When shows provide “What you didn’t see coming”, I tip my scriptorial chapeau, and I am tentatively “onboard.”

Will I go back to The Unicorn?  I did.  And I was not equally sustained.

But in its pilot’s “Extra Mile” efforts, I heard somebody trying.

Suggesting, without meaning to, that the other new shows were not.

You see how difficult this is?

“Then” weighing in about “Now”?

I’m not sure you can do it.

"Numbers Don't Lie... At Least Not In My Favor"

Do you remember Glen Svalstedt?

“Sure.”

Really?

“No.”

Thanks. 

Glen Svalstedt is the Executive Director for “Financial Contract Reporting” at NBCUniversal, to which I believe you can add Comcast.  Because, I guess, it’s a contractual obligation, Glen Svalstedt regularly sends me a statement, showing how far during that fiduciary period Major Dad – of which I am a “Profit Participant” but not yet – has advanced towards ultimate profitability.

Wishful Thinking:  It was only a matter of time.

Does that name ring a bell for you now?

“No.”

Fine.  I probably know less about your lives.

A while back, I got a call from Glen Svalstedt.  Yessir!  The man called me at home.  I felt so honored, I put him on “Hold” and went and put on some pants.

Glen came right to the point.  He wanted to know if it would be okay if he stopped sending the statements.  Apparently, his company was in trouble, and they thought saving fourteen pages, a staple and a stamp would keep them in business.

I told Glen to keep sending the statements, adding, tongue only partly in cheek – because it’s hard to talk if it’s all in there – that getting those statements in the mail were the most exciting days on my calendar.

It’s rather sad how close that is to being actually correct.

Narrative Turnaround…

After the latest statement, I may be changing my mind about receiving those statements.

And here’s why.

I had always had hope that Major Dad would someday be “in the black” and I would eventually see money.  It was false hope, but it was hope.

Today, that false hope is even harder to sustain.

Read this, and empathetically weep.

Previous Statement:  Major Dad had moved $57,697 closer to “pay dirt.”

Most Recent Statement:  The “cumulative take” slowed to $5,435.

World-Wide.

I know that none of us are accountants except the few of you who are accountants.  But who needs to be an accountant?  A 90% drop in profitability in a single “Reporting Period”?

That is really not good.

I mean, there was never a “tidal wave.”

But now, it’s a trickle.

In the direction of “Dry Hole.”

Reading the current report, former supporters of this upright Marine comedy – Abu Dhabi, Cyprus, Malaysia – not a cent in subsequent sales.  Canada – my home and native land – Israel – where I bought hundreds of trees:

Increase in sales?

Zero.

I mean, come on, eh?

Checking the numbers, none of which appear to have changed from the previous statement,

I don’t see how we went up five thousand bucks.

World-Wide.

You know what?

I think it’s over.

I think I need to call Glen.

Who wants to get statements that keep saying the same thing?  It’s like checking a corpse every six months and going, “Any news?”

It was good run.

Of paper, if not profits.

But one has to face facts.

Previously, a realistic assessment of my chances of seeing some money from the deal was “Never.”

Now, it is definitely longer.