This is the sportiest I will ever be.

I am not, generally speaking, a sports fan—most of the popular American sports just don’t hold any interest for me. I know baseball is the national pastime and all, but its languid pace has always seemed to me almost antithetical to the whole idea of sports. I mean, there’s more action in croquet. Plus all the gross spitting. Basketball strikes me as unchallenging, because everyone playing it is like eight feet tall. Shouldn’t they raise the baskets or something? Also their shorts are goofy. I do recall a time, somewhere in the eighties, when the New York Giants won some Super Bowls, and I was very aware of the whole thing and probably could even have identified some of the players, but when it comes to American football in general, I tend to find the level of violence disturbing. And I realize that I’m probably displaying a tremendous ignorance of the nuances and sublimity of these games, but I don’t care, because I? Am not a sports fan.

With a couple of exceptions. One of them is tennis, specifically women’s tennis, which I have been following for about twenty years now. My favorite player back then, and during the whole length of her brilliant career until her retirement, was Steffi Graf, who was one of the greatest ever to play the game (only Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova won more matches). A little later it was Jennifer Capriati during her comeback in the early aughts, as she disproved (to my great satisfaction) F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous dictum that there are no second acts in American lives. Currently I root for Amélie Mauresmo for several reasons: 1) she’s the only out lesbian in professional tennis, 2) she’s French, et j’aime la France et les français, and 3) her game is gorgeous. She’s currently ranked the number one player in the world, but has a long history of choking at the major tournaments, finally winning the Australian Open this year when Justin Henin-Hardenne had to retire from the match. Said history only makes me root harder for her. As I write this she has advanced to the third round at Wimbledon, which began earlier this week.

Also going on right now, which you surely know unless you live under the biggest rock on the planet, is the World Cup, which brings us to my second exception: soccer, or football, as the rest of the world quite sensibly calls it. When the WUSA (the women’s professional league in the US) was extant, I enjoyed watching their games, and while I don’t always follow international football, I love the World Cup. Like a dutiful citizen I rooted for the US until they were eliminated, but now: allez les Bleus! See above re: j’aime la France. Tomorrow France plays Brazil in a rematch of the 1998 final, and I plan on busting out some vin de pays and fromage while I watch. All of this brings me to the title of this entry: as I am currently involved in watching not one but two major sporting events, this is doubtless the sportiest I have ever been or ever will be.

The Coolest Song in the World

"Can you honestly tell me you forgot? Forgot the magnetism of Robin Zander, and the charisma of Rick Nielsen? And what about the tunes? 'I want you to want me'…'The dream police, da-na-na-na-na-na-na!'." That may not be one of the more famous quotes from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, but it is one of my personal favorite bits: ticket scalper Mike Damone trying to pawn Cheap Trick tickets off on some poor girl*, complete with bad singing and spazzy air guitar. Fast Times is one of my favorite movies, and the character of Damone, the sleazy, Gremlin-driving, turned-up-collar-wearing, bad-dating-advice-giving "conceited little prick" (as Phoebe Cates's Linda Barrett terms him) is, in a word, awesome. So when I saw a poster last month advertising a show by a band called Damone, I immediately surmised that they must have named themselves after the Damone, and, based solely on that, further surmised that they must in fact be awesome as well.

Unfortunately I had to miss their Portland gig due to the fact that it was the same night that my band practices. (Priorities, people.) But man, am I sorry I did. I picked up their recently-released major-label debut, entitled Out Here All Night, and repeated listening, as well as viewing of live clips on YouTube, has amply proved that Damone the band is indeed awesome. One review I read summed them up as "Juliana Hatfield fronting Cheap Trick", which could be read as dismissive, but actually captures their appeal nicely, I think, as their sound mixes power pop, ‘70s hard rock, and ‘80s hair metal into a redolent rock ‘n’ roll stew that’s topped beautifully by singer/guitarist Noelle Leblanc’s sweet-but-tough snarl. Noelle is one of the better female rock singers I’ve heard recently, and she looks totally fucking cool, coming on like a grittier, less glam-rock Joan Jett, or maybe a metal-fied Chrissie Hynde. See the picture at right, which currently adorns my desktop as well.

If you’ve ever listened to Little Steven’s Underground Garage on the radio (and if you haven’t, it’s worth seeking out), you know that Steve always plays what he considers to be The Coolest Song in the World that week. I’m starting my own Coolest Song in the World feature (which assuredly will not be updated every week), and right now The Coolest Song in the World is the title track from Damone’s new record, "Out Here All Night". With Noelle’s dark-tinted vocal over a wicked Judas Priest-like riff and a hooky-but-haunting chorus, it’s three minutes of pure rock ‘n’ roll heaven. Check out the band’s MySpace page for a listen, and check out their website for other fun stuff.


*Actually, not just some poor girl—the character of Dina was played by Pamela Springsteen, sister of Bruce. I think she had a grand total of two lines, but that still beats the zero of Nicolas Cage in his first screen appearance.