I never got particularly good at skateboarding. Or even reasonably good. Passably good? No. Actually, I was a really, really bad skateboarder. Sports that require practiced precision just aren’t safe for someone with my attention span, and since that precision is the only thing between you and the concrete, my skating “career” was little more than a series of painful falls.

So when I saw this promo video for Tengu: God of Mischief, an ambitious film of high-risk skating, all I could think was, “No, this one is actually going to die.” To be fair, there’s a pretty big market for skate videos featuring nothing but wipe-outs and injuries.

Director Colin Reed spent over two years collecting footage of Brooklyn rooftop skaters for the video, in addition to other terrifyingly dangerous feats in San Francisco, Tokyo, and Bordeaux. Much to my teeth-grinding relief, no one went kersplat, and upon the second viewing, I was able to unclench every muscle in my body for long enough to see some really beautiful shots of some incredibly impressive skating.
 

 
Via Gothamist

 
The pithiest comment ever made about the Super Bowl came from a player who was famous for not talking to reporters—Cowboys’ running back Duane Thomas, who said in the early 1970s, “If the Super Bowl is the ultimate game, how come there is another one next year?” As of last Sunday, the matchup for Super Bowl XLVIII, to be held, bizarrely, in frosty East Rutherford, New Jersey, is set: it will be the Denver Broncos against the Seattle Seahawks. It’s been widely noticed that the home states of the two teams are the ones that have pursued marijuana legalization the farthest, so we appreciate the positive advertisement of the general salubriousness of reefer.

Thirty-eight years ago, the film collective TVTV sent noted sports fan Bill Murray and noted deadpan satirist Christopher Guest down to Miami, Florida, to cover Super Bowl X, between the Dallas Cowboys and the Pittsburgh Steelers, in order to help with a loose, impressionistic documentary about all the hoopla. In an article about the documentary posted by Deadspin a year ago, TVTV honcho Allen Rucker explained why the collectives’ techniques were so ground-breaking:
 

In 1976, no videomakers had ever walked into a pro football locker room and hung out with the players. No videomakers had ever invited the players to drop by their own hangout—in TVTV’s case, a rented mansion that could communally house 30 or 40 counterculture types making the program. No videomakers had ever had the idea of giving a player his own portable video unit for a night to go back to the off-limits player dormitory and shoot whatever he wanted.

 
Amusingly, according to Rucker, Newsweek had labeled those very “counterculture types” a bunch of “braless, blue-jeaned video freaks.” Mercy me!!

Given all the emphasis on the shaggy, guerrilla tactics of the TVTV crew, the resulting documentary is surprisingly gentle, which certainly constitutes a strength. In honored vérité style (Fred Wiseman was still very big back then), there’s no commentary at all; the doc is a loosely connected series of clips on various themes, including “Steeler Wives,” “Sports Facts” (that one is, subversively, about the players’ union), “Fans,” “Super Sunday,” and so on. To its credit, TVTV’s approach was not to lecture but to soak all the craziness in.
 

 
Murray and Guest were on hand to ... er, “commentate” a curious game of touch football, billed as “Super Bowl IX 1/2,” involving a passel of former greats, including Sonny Jurgensen, Johnny Unitas, and Paul Hornung. Compared to their current statures, Murray and Guest were essentially unknown in 1976. Murray’s debut on SNL came a year later, almost to the day (January 15, 1977), whereas Guest, known at that time primarily as a National Lampoon writer and actor, would have to wait until 1984’s This is Spinal Tap for his big boost in exposure. If you want maximum Bill Murray, you’re going to want to watch Part 2 of the four videos. The interface between the counterculture and establishment culture may be most evident in that section: Murray’s innocent question to Phyllis George about which player she’d like to date induces an exasperated response about “sexist questions”: in other words, she doesn’t entirely realize that Murray is basically joking and that the stakes aren’t all that. Hilariously, Murray gets Pat Summerall, who was well on his way to becoming an axiom of CBS’ football coverage for a generation, to say, “I think there’s too much damn television, don’t you?”

The vaguely workers-oriented stance of the doc is its most interesting aspect—not just Colts owner Robert Irsay’s inane antics in which he likens the head of the players’ association to a babbling monkey but also the comments of Aleta Bleier, wife of Steeler’s halfback Rocky, on the physical and economic sacrifices the players make: “It’s a hell of a big business! Who’s gonna make all that money, the players, or—does Dan Rooney [president of the Steelers] deserve to make $5 million or does your husband [Becky Clack, wife of Jim Clack] deserve to make $30,000 instead of $18,000?” Right at that moment in baseball, the players were securing their fair share of the income, a process that would occur somewhat later for pro football players. Today all the athletes make plenty of money, and the moral force of Aleta’s argument is not something you’d be as likely to encounter today.

Oh yeah—the Steelers won that one, 21-17.
 

 
More after the jump…

Photo by Glen E. Friedman.
 
Check out legendary ripper Tony Alva doing what he does best in a pool at an abandoned Hollywood Boulevard apartment building in this gorgeously sinister testament to the beauty of skateboarding as an art form.
 
L.A. production company, Six Stair, perhaps best known for their righteous 2002 documentary, Fruit of the Vine, about the search for skateable empty pools around the U.S., shot the footage below for Gus Van Sant’s 2007 film, Paranoid Park, but it was never used.

According to Buddy Nichols, who also appears in the segment along with Rick Charnoski and Ivory Serra (Buddy and Rick are the brains behind Six Stair, and Ivory is sculptor Richard Serra’s nephew), the deserted apartments were once home to drag queen actor, Divine, and are rumored to have hosted a few Marilyn Monroe/JFK liaisons.

The spastic, sludgy free-jam supplied by former Don Cabellero bassist, George Draguns, is the perfect accompaniment for this nightmarish (in a good way) clip shot at 54 frames per second on super 8.

You can hear more from George Draguns at his Soundcloud page.  Paranoid Park is streaming on Netflix.
 

 
On March 26, 1976, the great Muhammad Ali spent a half-hour in the company of George Herman, Peter Bonaventre, and Fred Graham on CBS’ Face the Nation—the starkest takeaway may be how much has changed.

In our hyper-partisan times, you wouldn’t necessarily expect a prominent African-American athlete to aspire to be a “black Henry Kissinger” or to single out a Republican administration—referring to Ford—as the only one that he has really liked (“I like President Ford and his administration”), all the while disavowing any expertise in political matters.

It’s an astonishing thing to watch Ali’s stoic face as he listens to Fred Graham idiotically inquire, “Is there ever gonna be another ‘Great White Hope,’ a white heavyweight that’s gonna come in and whip all of you black heavyweights?” Interestingly, Ali largely accepts the premise of the question, discussing the great white boxers of the past and agreeing that there aren’t very many around. Of course, to our 2013 ears, the whole idea of pining for a white hero to come along seems reprehensible and also oddly aggressive in freely owning up to the psychological need of white people to have a white champ. The whole thing seems more than a little silly today.
 

 
They discuss Ali’s upcoming bout with legendary sumo wrestler Antonio Inoki in June of the same year in Tokyo. That was a very interesting fight—after truly massive hype, it was something of a fizzle, ending in a frustrating 3-3 draw, and Ali suffered some serious leg injuries during the fight, which some have seen as a precursor to modern mixed martial arts. (Ali may have had the last laugh, however: Inoki announced in 2012 that he had converted to Islam 22 years earlier.)

Speaking of injuries, in light of Ali’s struggle with Parkinson’s, it’s heartbreaking to hear him describe a series of jaw fractures, some nerve problems, and a “busted eardrum” that have resulted from his fighting career. In addition, completely unaware that his boxing would eventually lead to Parkinson’s, Ali warns youngsters not to go into boxing in stark terms (even while claiming that baseball is more dangerous): “I think boxing is dangerous. Any man been hit in the head—the brain’s a delicate thing, I think it should be well protected. ... I would advise nobody to box. If they get hit too much, ... it’s too dangerous.”

Amusingly, Ali admits that he’d kinda like to have back that Olympic gold medal he threw into the river way back when.

Towards the end of the program, Ali furnishes a rather ringing endorsement of the United States of America: “I’ll say this: We have a lot of moral problems in America, but America’s the greatest country in the world. I been throughout the world. The best schooling system, the best education system, the medical system, the highways, the cars, the airplanes, the television shows, and this is why—but morally, we need to be uplifted” before going on to praise Wallace D. Muhammad, the son of Elijah Muhammad who disbanded the original Nation of Islam of his father and moved the church into a much more mainstream direction (it sure is interesting to hear Ali disavow all that “white devil” stuff…...).
 

 
Earlier this week Paul Gallagher introduced us to “Kate Bush, comedian”—so why not end the week with “Kate Bush, fitness guru”? All right, I’m overselling it a little, but it’s true that in August 1981 the “extravagantly brainy spiritual sexpot,” as Robert Christgau once termed her, was featured in a segment on Looking Good, Feeling Fit, a U.K. show dedicated to well, looking good and feeling fit.

Interviewer Richard Stilgoe caught Bush while prepping for her bombastic and kinetic “Sat in Your Lap” video with dancers Stewart Arnold and Gary Hunt. As Stilgoe notes, the trio tried out the same strenuous dance routine “at least eight times while we filmed it from different angles.”

It must be admitted that Stilgoe indulges in some inane repartee, such as when he asks, “Now, in the music world there’s a lot of late nights, high living and things, and yet you do not have pimples, spots, and all the things that the rest of us get if we stay out late at night, how do you manage that?” For her part, Bush remains steadfastly humble and sensible throughout, insisting that she does indeed get spots, “everyone gets spots,” and advising viewers of the importance of using the right creams to protect your skin.

Considering that her athletic performances were as integral to her art back then as her bewitching music, it’s no surprise that Bush was in such excellent shape—as she allows at the segment’s close, “I don’t think I’m a healthy person. You see, I dance because I want to dance, not ‘cause I want to keep fit. And it’s just a sort of side thing that I happen to keep fit at the same time. I really like what I do and that that’s what it’s all about.”
 

 
The other day I came across this intriguing picture of Nike boxes mashed up with Warholian Brillo boxes with no accompanying explanation. They were so well executed that it seemed like they might be legit, a new trendy way that Nike has decided to ship their precious shoes, but then I realized that the size of the box is all wrong and so it must be a fake of some kind. The truth lies somewhere in between.
 

 
In Portland there are occasional Nike-themed art exhibitions, almost certainly with approval and funding by the indomitable Oregon sports apparel company itself. The shows are done under the banner “Nike Graphic Studio,” and you can see some of the artworks—all of them Nike-related, but some more obliquely than others—on this Tumblr.

This work is called “Keep It Clean,” and it was (rather excellently) executed by Oregon-based artist Lonny Hurley, who in addition to various art projects also has done gig posters for the Melvins, Built to Spill, Bob Dylan, Mudhoney, and the Electric Six. The September 2011 exhibition in which it appeared was called Nike Graphic Studio 1.0 (there has since been a 2.0 and a 3.0), and it was held at the Compound Gallery in Portland.
 
Here’s a Warhol Brillo box for comparison (Warhol did these in several different ways, but this one is the one Hurley was seeking to imitate):

 
If you’re so inclined, you can buy one of these boxes from Compound Gallery for $75.

Here’s a brief video about the Nike Graphic Studio 2.0 show. “Keep It Clean” doesn’t appear in it, but other works from Nike Graphic Studio 1.0 do appear in it, so I don’t know what’s up with that.

 
via WXN&MLKN

Andy Warhol, number 28
 
I know perfectly well that these shirts are little more than a quick grab at fashion trendiness, but I like ‘em anyway. The whole idea of a French firm assigning American sports jerseys to various iconic creative people (none of whom would probably be able to tell apart a catcher’s mitt from a hockey stick) seems pretty witty to me.

These come from a French fashion outfit called LES (ART)ISTS, who say that these designs were inspired by “American football jerseys,” which seems fair enough.

The regular T-shirts are €45 ($60), and the flannel versions are €99 ($133). Actually, they seem to have only the b/w version (such as the KAWS one) on their site. I prefer the more playful and colorful ones, they strike me as much more clever and engaging.

The odds are that the numbers were chosen more or less at random, but I can’t help reading meanings in (busted, I’m a sports fan). WARHOL 23 makes sense for anyone who knows who Michael Jordan is [Update: DM reader “ThatGuy” points out that Warhol is 28 on all three shirts], and beyond that, I admire the use of rather high numbers. In baseball high numbers are generally used for scrubs who don’t play, the types who make it to spring training and then don’t make the squad. If we’re talking football, the numbers have specific meanings—for instance, a number in the 80s means you’re a wide receiver, anywhere from 50 to 79 means you’re either a lineman or a linebacker, and so on.
 

Keith Haring, number 58
 

Takashi Murakami, number 62
 

Damien Hirst, number 75
 

Jean-Michel Basquiat, number 60
 
See the rest of the jerseys after the jump…...
 

 
I don’t know what genius came up with the idea of putting inspirational fitness slogans about “never quitting” over people who have consumed waaaaaaaaaaaay too much alcohol, but I do appreciate it!
 

 

 
With thanks to Eve Lee, reddit and Imgur. 
 
More after the jump…
 

Harry Laufer of the House of David
 
The Boston Red Sox are looking to clinch their third World Series in the last 10 years—if that doesn’t happen, Game 7 is tomorrow, in which the St. Louis Cardinals will attempt to win their third World Series in the last 8 years. Either way, by Friday the baseball season will be over.

If you’ve been watching the TV coverage of the postseason action, you’re probably sick to death of the attention that’s been dedicated to the Red Sox players and their stupid beards. The faithful of Red Sox Nation populating Fenway tonight has taken up the gimmick in full force, and you’ll be sure to see some fake beards in the crowd if you watch tonight.
 

Red Sox beardos
 
As Bill Murray pointed out in a recent interview with Esquire, “With the beards, they look like—what were they called, the Sons of David?” A footnote makes the clarification—Bill was referring to the Israelite House of David, a religious society founded by Benjamin and Mary Purnell in Benton Harbor, Michigan, in 1903.

Ben Purnell was fond of baseball, so he had the idea of getting together a team from the commune. In 1913 the House of David team started playing competitive baseball—they were an active barnstorming team from then all the way up to the 1950s, when the integration of major league baseball effectively put an end to the Negro Leagues and other similar teams like the House of David. As Wikipedia explains, “The team members wore long hair and beards as they played. … Some professional players grew their beards out to show their respect towards the god of Israel, while others wore false beards.”
 

Eliezer Schechter
 
The House of David is probably the only team in baseball history that consisted entirely of celibate players. The team also invented the warmup game of pepper. The early 1930s were a heady period for the House of David—the pitcher/manager was Grover Cleveland Alexander from 1931 to 1935. In 1933 Jackie Mitchell signed with the team, becoming the first woman ever to sign a pro baseball contract. The next year saw the addition of Babe Didrikson Zaharias as well as, for the Denver Post tournament, Satchel Paige his catcher Cy Perkins.

The House of David traveled all over the country as well as to Canada and Mexico, and their competition included some of the most formidable Negro Leagues teams such as the Homestead Grays. In the late 1930s, the House of David barnstormed across the country with the Kansas City Monarchs, another legendary Negro Leagues team. After Babe Ruth’s career came to an end, the House of David offered him a contract—but the Babe’s carousing habits more or less ruled him out of consideration.

In 2003, Drawn and Quarterly published cartoonist James Sturm’s The Golem’s Mighty Swing, a fanciful graphic novel about a fictional variant of the House of David.
 

 
There’s a lot of information out there on the team, including the book House of David Baseball Team by Joel Hawkins and Terry Bertolino and the the House of David Baseball Team Research Project.
 
“House of David Baseball: The Best Team You’ve Never Heard Of”

 
Skaterdater, one of the best skateboarding films ever made, has finally popped up in a decent color version after years of bouncing around the Internet in terrible looking transfers.

This sweet little movie from 1965 chronicles the early days of skateboarding when kids rode tiny oval decks with steel wheels. Amazingly the film won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1966 for short film. The first and only film about skateboarding to manage that kind of artistic feat. It’s got a groovy soundtrack that includes a tune by Davie Allan And The Arrows, “Skateboarder Rock.”

I owned a Hobie skateboard and we use to call what we did sidewalk surfing and we did it barefoot. On the East Coast, where I lived, sidewalk surfing was the closest we could get to the SoCal lifestyle and we bleached our hair to give us the appearance of being teenage beach bums. But the humidity and wooded suburbs of Virginia were about as close to Dogtown as The Four Seasons were to the Beach Boys.

The film tells a story with no dialogue. The surf rock-esque soundtrack was composed by Mike Curb and Nick Venet with Davie Allan and the Arrows playing “Skaterdater Rock” .
It was the first film on skateboarding. It was distributed theatrically, both domestically and internationally, by United Artists. It was reviewed extensively, including “Time Magazine”.

The skateboarders were members of the neighborhood Imperial Skateboard Club from Torrance, California. Their names are Gary Hill, Gregg Carrol, Mike Mel, Bill McKaig, Gary Jennings, Bruce McKaig and Rick Anderson. Most of the action shots were taken in Torrance, Redondo Beach, Palos Verdes Estates. The final shot was Averill Park in San Pedro.” Wikipedia.

These young dudes have some classy moves and an almost Zen-like grace. The roots of cool, California-style.

If you dig the soundtrack, you can stream all the tracks here.