Showing posts with label Chris Farasopoulos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Farasopoulos. Show all posts

Friday, August 20, 2010

NY Jets #19 - Part 1

Someone very close to me has a quote he uses almost unselfconsciously to describe his reaction to the status of life in general, and his words become more and more important to me as I get older. Is est quis est. It is what it is.

It's another version of Doris Day's que sera, sera, but with a little more acceptance of the present, not just the future, as an uncontrollable element of life. It is what it is. What is it? What it is. Accept it or not. It is only what it is - which is what it already is. This is not to rhetorically say, in the manner of Peggy Lee, est ut totus illic est ("Is That All There Is?") for what is is not actually all there is, but what is is what is.

Back in the early 1970's, it was common to greet someone with, "What it is?" as in "What's happening?" but the question soon became a statement - less a curious interrogative than a declarative of preemptive mutual acceptance: "What it is, my man." Slang changes quickly, though, and "What it is" is now long dated even among my Me Generation colleagues at work.

When I think about American culture in the span of my 41 years, I have to admit how much has changed in just the last decade. This morning, I corresponded with three people via Facebook and e-mail, whereas at college in the late 80's, I had to speak on the phone, by mail, or by face-to-face contact, none of which I'm particularly good at. This was also the case in 1971, when Chris Farasopoulos #19 first joined the New York Jets. In a very short period of time, within the last ten years, the world has gotten better at accommodating hermits like me. I'm not entirely sure that this is a step forward for civilization, but I am of a mind that all forms of progress - with the exception of cul-de-sac track housing and Twitter - are to the benefit of humanity. And it is what it is, anyway.

Two years ago, when I first did research on Chris Farasopoulos, I found a story that says he was initially offered a baseball contract with the Baltimore Orioles, which he apparently turned down because they asked him to shorten his name. He refused. It is what it is, he said. Accept what it is or not. Can you imagine any sports team trying to pull that today? Ask Troy Polamalu, whose hair is allowed to conceal his own name on his jersey and nearly his number. Times have changed for the better in a short span.

Of course, there's always the chance that the Orioles may simply have been trying to be polite in saying that Farasopolous' long "ethnic" name was the problem when it might, for all we know, have been his lack of ability, although that's a strange way of being polite. Luckily, the New York Jets were a team that welcomed eccentrics and individualists, so they were certainly capable of accepting someone on the squad whose only peculiarity was that he was born in Greece. Did Farasopolous feel cheated later that decade when Jon Lowenstein was allowed to keep his name on the back of his Orioles jersey? Does he feel cheated by progress' ironic sense of humor, especially when the Jets are a contender in their sport now (which wasn't the case in the 70's) but the Orioles are not? Nowadays the O's would take a Sri Lankan bowler like Muthumudalige Pushpakumara if they thought he could throw a curveball.

****

I don't have children, but if I had produced a son by some accident and were allowed to give him a name, it would almost certainly be Laveranues. It's a first name you can never spell correctly the first time. Laveranues Roche.

Sometimes people leave your life, then they come back. Then they leave again. Then they come back again. This is our team's relationship with Laveranues Coles, now #19. As we know, when he played for the Jets time and again, Coles wore #87. We wore #80 for the Redskins and #11 for the Bengals. David Clowney wears #87 for us now, and numbers 82 and 88 are taken by tight ends this summer. I think Number 80 has been kept special (though not retired) in the wake of Wayne Chrebet, as is #85, (for Wesley Walker). Dustin Keller is #81. Jerricho Cotchery is #89. That still left #84 and #83. Is it an insult to wear a number too close to your old number? I'm not going into why I disapprove of receivers wearing such low numbers. I just do. There's precedent for it, but linemen don't wear any numbers in the 80's anymore, so there's plenty of those ten digits to go around these days on any given squad, even with more tight ends than there were in the old days. A receiver shouldn't wear a quarterback's number. That's not the way God made us.

(NBC lists Coles' 1999 near $400 discount at Dillard's as one of the most bizarre sports scandals of all-time, which is silly. How many of us have received discounts from friends working at a major chain? When I was in grad school I got a $3.23 employee discount on a copy of Richard Bausch's Violence from a guy who worked at Borders back in 1992. Does that make me a criminal? Likewise who can blame Coles for stealing? College students and graduate students do their work for nothing, after all)

Coles' receiving numbers are a little bit better than most receivers. Compare him to - or confuse him with - Santana Moss who was drafted by the Jets out of the University of Miami a year after Coles (and who mocked him with a Dillard's bag, no doubt) and for whom he was once traded back to the Jets later on; we see that Coles' numbers are statistically better. Would it therefore have been an insult to wear #83, the number of a player for whom you were once traded by very same team that signed you on again, and then again?

It's actually nice to have Coles back one more time. He felt loyal to Chad Pennington in 2008 when people like me were willing to let him go in favor of Brett Favre. He never really seemed to buy Favre's act, and now it's fashionable for everyone to turn their nose up at Brett. He also sang with Elmo, which my wife loves. When sports figures really aren't supposed to admit any level of vulnerability, he also had the courage to open up about being a victim of childhood sexual abuse: it is what it is, he seemed to say, in hopes of helping others to come to terms with accepting what it is, too.

His second reappearance with us signals the twilight of his career, which I suppose explains why he wears a number that's, well, just available. He admitted that this is the end for him and that he will probably be gone as soon as Santonio Holmes is ready to play again. When you have to give up your old number to David Clowney, you know you are very near done. Other than giving up his old number, he is willing to accept what it is and that what will be, will be. Is est quis est quod quis ero, ero.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

NY Jets By The Numbers: #19 (Rated R)

If the Gods of Wiki are to be believed, when the Baltimore Orioles offered Chris Farasopoulos a baseball contract, they asked that he shorten his name. He refused. So he chose football. Can you imagine a team trying to pull that today? Ask Troy Polamalu. While he hasn't been asked to change his (uncharacteristically short) South Pacific name, the NFL has only just tabled a rule on whether or not a player's name on a uniform should be permitted to be covered by a mane of hair that flows from his helmet. This was a smart rule given that the league might have been seen as racist in doing so, a concern not so profound when Chris Farasopoulos was a defensive back from 1971-1973. Luckily, the New York Jets were a team that welcomed eccentrics and individualists, as they already had one for a quarterback. Chris wore #19 for the Jets.

Once while riding Amtrak from Philadelphia to NYC in the spring of 2000, a man of Caribbean origin was in the seat directly behind me, insisting to the person on the other end of his cell phone that "Dat bitch has tayken all ma fahkin money, mon. All of eet. Shit, mon. What da fuck am ah ganna do?" The whole way. He was upset. The bitch took his money.

As he and I egressed at Pennsylvania Station, he caught sight of my Jets t-shirt and addressed me in the same distressed tone, as if it were part of his ongoing troubles:

"Oh mon! Ha could dey let Key-shahn go like dat, mon! What da fuck day gonna do now, mon?!?"

Well, we know what Keyshawn Johnson did. He won a Super Bowl that the Eagles should have been in. I still resent him for it the way that I resented John Riggins for leaving the Jets for more money, more respect, more chances at a ring (and got all of them). And then #19 Keyshawn went and got kicked off the Bucs. He was the first player of this era to whom I had ever heard of that happening. But then Keyshawn was always special. First, he was tall as hell, and the Jets have not had a receiver of his caliber and height since then, so indeed, my friend on the train was not off the mark with his rhetorical question. He also made a mark by being a petulantly difficult author/rookie on a 1-15 team. That takes something special. The only thing he really did wrong was to slam Wayne Chrebet in his book, which was both a tasteless and a poor call. But then no one will retire his #19 anywhere because he played in too many different places.

Bobby Riley was a replacement wide receiver with the #19 for the scab New York Jets of 1987. I wonder if the squad has reunions.

Well, if we are going to be profane, then what better way than to celebrate the legacy of the Jets' first regularly starting quarterback, #19 Malcolm "Dick" Wood. Yes, among Dicks he may be a lesser figure, maybe a little less important than Dick Trickle, though certainly only in stock car racing. Then there was Dick Pole of the Red Sox and Mariners in the 1970's. Interestingly, after quarterbacking throughout the AFL, Wood coached his way back to the Jets, where he was running backs coach. Sadly for him, this was in the Kotite era. Sort of like being the Education Secretary in the Bush Administration.