INFINITY: THE HILLS ARE ALIVE

Sometimes I just have to put sports on the back burner and soak up some culture or history.

With trips to Gettysburg and Colonial Williamsburg in the books and a visit to Boston for a trek on Freedom Trail and a Whale Watch pending, my wife Lisa and I turned our attention toward music. And let me tell you that there is not a better venue anywhere than Infinity Hall in Norfolk.

Norfolk, long a center of culture as home to the Yale Summer School of Music, is located on Route 44 in the Northwest Hills west of Windsor and just east of Canaan.

Infinity Hall features an acoustically perfect setting in a stunning Victorian building that once served as a community center. Adjoining the cozy theater is the new Infinity Bistro with an eclectic menu as interpreted by executive chef Dan Fortin, who has cooked at such respected restaurants as Apricots in Farmington and Trumbull Kitchen in Hartford.

We didn’t eat at the Bistro. We certainly will after seeing it and viewing the menu, but back to the music.

There isn’t a bad seat in the house. Most of the seats are in an orchestra section in front of the stage. A limited number of higher priced seats that feature waitress service for drinks and meals from the Bistro are located in the mezzanine that hangs over the floor.

The stage is living-room snug. Given the acoustics, the surroundings must be quite inspiring to the musicians. Speakers are suspended from the ceiling on either side of the stage.

Our introduction to Infinity Hall came last winter when we saw Atlanta Rhythm Section, a hard-driving Southern rock band whose volume sent some patrons home early. Our second visit on Friday was to watch Aztec Two-Step perform the music of Simon and Garfunkel.

Aztec Two-Step – Rex Fowler and Neal Shulman – have been performing their mellifluous blend of folk and rock since 1971. They were joined on stage by New York City radio personality and Simon and Garfunkel biographer Pete Fornatale, whose personable manner and knowledge of his subject add a unique and welcome element to the show.

Rex and Neal methodically, passionately and brilliantly conducted a musical history tour of S & G’s incredible career, touching on all their greatest hits including “Sound of Silence,” “Mrs. Robinson,” “The Boxer” and “Scarborough Fair.”

The intimate gathering, obviously well-versed in the music of both S & G and Aztec Two-Step, sang along with such verve that it visibly inspired the musicians.

The familiar sound of thunder could be heard over the music toward the end of the second set. As Rex sang the final verses of “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” the building experience a power failure. Incredibly, the crowd joined Rex in singing the final verse. The power returned. Rex looked out over the audience and exclaimed, “Awesome!”

I’m a veteran of hundreds of concerts in my time and I have never witnessed such synergy between the performers and the audience. Hearing the timeless treasures that S & G bestowed upon our generation meticulously performed by a duo that has rocked regional audiences for nearly 40 years had a tremendous emotional impact.

We will be returning to Infinity for Pure Prairie League in September and Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in October, but the venue books a wide variety of musical genres well beyond my folk rock/bluegrass tastes.

August brings Livingston Taylor, John Lee Hooker Jr., Roomful of Blues, Al Stewart and Suzy Bogguss. Herman’s Hermits, Tom Rush and Loudon Wainwright III are among the September acts. October features Johnny Winter, Ray Parker Jr. and Allman Brothers guitarist extraordinaire Dickey Betts.

Check the schedule yourself (http://www.infinityhall.com/) because there are many others, some famous and some more local, with tickets priced accordingly. If you go once, I assure you that you’ll be back.

MY VIEW ON A FEW ITEMS

I was greatly disturbed by the news that Tebucky Jones Jr. was arrested for his part in a school fight.

'Twas a time when two boys could mix it up a bit over a heated exchange over a girl or some nasty comments and it didn't make headline news. Now I don't know exactly what happened but I'll share waht I do know.

Tebucky Jones Jr. is a great kid. He worked hard at his sports and his grades while at Farmington High as a freshman and the portion of his sophomore year he spent there. I heard that from several FHS people when he decided to transfer. They wanted what was best for him. He's always been respectful and mild-mannered, especially in the face of the contact he's absorbed on both the football field and basketball court.

Something about this is rotten. He was disciplined by the school when it happened in early May, which is a chance you take when you fight in school. Seems to me it should have ended there. Now, he's arrested two months later?

Is it possible that somebody figures they can tap into the money that Tebucky Sr. earned during his time in the NFL? I don't know this for a fact, but if it's true, it's very sad that Tebucky Jr. has to suffer for it. He's just a kid who got in a school fight. How many of us have done that?

From what I hear, the video that some other kid shot while the spat was going on shows Tebucky Jr. getting the other kid in a headlock. Boy it's a good thing I didn't get busted every time I got a kid in a headlock. I'd probably have been on death row at 15.

I'm sure this affair will not affect Tebucky's participation in sports next fall and/or winter, and by all means, it shouldn't. I hope and pray this doesn't scar him in any way. He doesn't deserve to be singled out. ...

Many Rock Cats regulars have concern about the condition of the field, particularly with the Bob Dylan concert coming up Wednesday. Some of the areas subject to high traffic where new sod had to be installed after the field was re-sod a few years back didn't take and it is now an eyesore.

The beauty of New Britain Stadium at its best is one of the reasons why people come. There is something soothing about a neatly groomed baseball field with the expansive sea of green grass offset by the red clay used for the infield and pitcher's mound.

The hope here is, with so many people packing the Emerald this season, that the concert doesn't add to the problems and that the powers-that-be see fit to dress it up for the rest of July, August and into early September. New Britain Stadium and Willow Brook Park are showcases for our city. We want to be proud of what the thousands of fans see. ...

The days are surely numbered for Eastern League baseball in Norwich. The Eastern League has promised the city of Richmond, Va., that one of the 12 EL franchises would be moved there for 2010. The Connecticut Defenders are the overwhelming choice, although there is still a small chance that the Erie Seawolves would make the move.

I wonder what will happen with Dodd Stadium if the EL departs. Will they bring a New York-Penn (short season Class A) team in there? Rumor has it the team playing in Burlington, Vt., will leave its quaint but antiquated home at the University of Vermont for greener pastures. After all, the school has dropped its baseball program so I'm sure there are no plans to modernize old Centennial Field.

Let's hope the NY-P League comes in rather than independent ball, which seems to be limping toward its demise in Bridgeport and just doesn't have the same pizzazz that the affiliated minor leagues have.

PLEASANT, NO MATTER WHAT THE SCORE

The sun was shining brightly Monday, a rarity in a year that threatens to come and go without a summer. The cumulus clouds, although trimmed with a little gray, puffed up from one horizon to the other.

My cell phone rings and it's Gorman Heimueller, one of my best friends who I hadn't spoken with an awhile. I met Gorman in 1981 when he pitched for the West Haven A's in the Eastern League. He had the proverbial "cup of coffee" with the Oakland A's in 1983.

We re-connected when he became pitching coach for the New Britain Rock Cats in 1995, a position he held through 1997. He was with the Reading Phillies when they were in New Britain, preparing to take on the Rock Cats in the 2001 EL championship series. The date was September 11. Need I say more?

Well, Gorm is the minor league pitching coordinator for the Philadelphia Phillies now and has enjoyed his time there. He and his terrific family had a great time dancing the night away in the City of Brotherly Love late last fall when the Phils disposed of Tampa Bay in the World Series.

Anyway, it was great to hear from an old friend. We talked about the high times we've had, we talked about the sad times, we philosophized about what we've learned concerning the human condition and where we're headed.

By now, I was in the parking lot at New Britain Stadium for the 12:05 p.m. game. Any tie I talk to one of my best friends, I become energized, because there's little in life more valuable to me than the dear friends with whom I share it. You tend to realize how fortunate you are to be able to enjoy the sport you love best in a tremendous atmosphere and just 15 minutes from home.

Win or lose, Rock Cats baseball continues to be one of my guiding lights after 12-plus years covering the team.

The game itself, however, tested my optimism as much as any game can. The Binghamton Mets, cellar-dwellers in the Eastern League's Northern Division, chose this idyllic moment to erupt for six runs in the first innings and five in the second. The final seven innings had little redeeming qualities for anyone except players trying to improve their statistics.

But in spite of viewing lopsided baseball, the sun gleamed and the camaraderie couldn't be better. It got even better than usual when longtime Connecticut scribe and esteemed Chester bon vivant Peter Zanardi came up to spin a few tales. You had Joe D'Ambrosio and Jeff Dooley describing the action (or lack of it) over the air waves. Scott Gray was in the house.

It was a wonderful day, or as wonderful as they get when the hometowners are losing 14-0.

WHALERS HYPOCRISY

Talk about charlatans, how about the group that calls itself the Hartford Whalers Booster Club.

First of all, they say they’re trying to bring the NHL back to Hartford. Didn’t the NHL commish Gary Bettman make it abundantly clear that such a prospect was about as probable as ice forming on the Connecticut River in August?

Given the condition of the Hartford Civic (nee XL) Center, the NHL certainly wouldn’t occupy such an obsolete facility, so a Whalers rebirth would require a new building. Why would anybody put funds into something like that when the Hartford Wolf Pack can’t even attract a quorum in the deadest downtown since Dry Gulch, Nevada?

But the real audacity comes when you consider that the Whalers Booster Club, I’m told, shuns the Wolf Pack because they’re not in the NHL. In essence, they’re minor league. And where do they come to peddle their empty dreams? New Britain Stadium, where the dreaded idea of minor league sports attracted over 8,000 people on Saturday night.

They actually parked in the Rock Cats’ radio booth and said the state needs the Whalers to return to “put Connecticut on the map.” I guess what’s happened in Storrs since Tate George made “The Shot” doesn’t qualify with their mapmakers? The Whalers can come back and win five Stanley Cup titles and won’t have the impact of what Jim Calhoun and Geno Auriemma have brought here.

I think most intelligent sports fans recognize that Hartford is not Boston and it is not New York City. Connecticut’s proximity to those metropolitan areas may elicit some envy, but the Whalers Booster Club and their like perhaps will someday understand that the state is simply not a major league venue. We have our Huskies, and we have a perfectly wonderful and well-received minor league baseball situation with the Rock Cats.

From a professional sports standpoint, Connecticut is minor league, and thousands of Rock Cats fans attest that most are damned proud of it.

A VACATION INSPIRES

Vacations are meant to pull folks away from the subject matter that dominates their professional lives, so when my wife Lisa and I set out for our getaway, I put sports on the back-burner and immersed myself into the fascinating domain of Ameican history.

First we went to Gettysburg, Pa., where voices of the pivotal Civil War battle July 1-3, 1863 can still be heard if you pay close attention. We stood among the graves where Abraham Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address. We contemplated his words and marveled in their profound meaning.

We stayed at an inn adjacent to Gen. Robert E. Lee's headquarters. We thought about the agonizing decisions he was forced to make. When tensions rose before the war, he had to decide whether to fight for the preservation of the union that he grew to love during his time at West Point, or for the tenets of his native state, Virginia.

We absorbed the strategy he configured as he led the Army of Northern Virginia through Maryland and into Gettysburg. A Southern victory surely would have altered the course of the war, and how close he got.

We dined in an old building -- the Farnsworth House -- which still bears the scars of bullets that ricocheted off brick. From where one stray bullet killed Jennie Wade, the only civilian to be slain in the battle, while she baked bread for Union soliders.

I stood on the "Angle," the very point where Confederate General George Pickett led his ill-fated charge at the Federal's center on the battle's third day, Lee's last gasp. We ascended Little Round Top, where General Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain and his 20th Maine regiment used raw courage to beat back a Confederate attack when their ammunition had run out.

"... from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave their last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain ..."

Lincoln's words still ring clear 200 years after his birth. Every American should have the chance to absorb his spirit at the spot they were issued.

From there, it was on to Colonial Williamsburg, where the history of the days leading up to the American Revolution come alive before your very eyes. We took part in a debate in which Virginians of the 1780s wrestled with the choice of seeking independence or standing by England's King George III.

We witnessed a 1706 witch trial where the prosecuting attorney delivered such a strong case that we were wondering just how the accused woman could be anything but a witch.

An agitated re-enactor comes running down the street to inform the Williamsburg populace that a British regiment over 1,000 strong is on the edge of town. A short time later, we are given a forceful address by famous turncoat Benedict Arnold on why we should place our loyalty behind our king instead of a rag-tag group of rebels with no chance to succeed.

We made a side to nearby Jamestown, the site of the first English settlement on North American soil in 1607, where archaeologists have unearthed thousands of revealing artifacts that display the hardships encountered by the brave people who left the relative comforts of England to settle a new world.

But perhaps the most compelling aspect of our journey was another side trip to Yorktown, where the troops of British general Lord Cornwallis laid down their arms at the feet of George Washington in the battle that signalled the end of the American Revolution.

The redoubts (small, heavily armed forts) over-run by the French and American troops remain in tact on a pristine field just outside of town. A self-guided auto tour of the battlefield reveals the essence of strategy employed by Washington's colonials and their French comrades in tightening the vice on Cornwallis, whose plan to escape across the river was thwarted.

The very field where Cornwallis' men, overcome with despair, tossed their weapons in a pile with the victorious American and French lined up on either side, remains untouched. But Cornwallis wasn't there that day. He lie in a Yorktown rooming house, reportedly too ill to attend the proceedings.

Standing alone, next to Surrender Field, left me with a feeling of inspiration, pride and eternal appreciation of what the men who fought there accomplished.

MiLB: A DIFFERENT KIND OF 'SHOW'

The more I delve into the nature of minor league baseball, the more I realize how different it is than its big-league counterpart. In fact, it's amazing how different it is than most any other sports entity.

Most of us close to the minors are well aware that player development is of premier importance, moreso than winning. It should go without saying. Why else would MLB clubs infuse millions of dollars into their minor league teams? Establishing a reseve of young talent has never been so crucial as it is today with injuries, particular to pitchers, so prevalent.

MLB teams will reinforce the idea that winning is important, and of course it is. Winning is an attitude that can develop among a core of minor league players and translate into big-league success.

The Twins are a great example. In 1998, the Rock Cats featured 1B Doug Mientkiewicz, SS Cristian Guzman, OF Jacque Jones, OF Torii Hunter, C A.J. Pierzynski and LHP J.C. Romero as they crushed their way to the Northern Division pennant. Within the next two seasons, they were the core of a young Twins club that was playoff-bound.

In 2001, the Rock Cats roared the Eastern League pennant with 3B Michael Cuddyer, 1B Justin Morneau, OF Michael Restovich, OF Dustan Mohr, RHP Juan Rincon and OF Lew Ford, many of whom figured prominently in the next wave to Minnesota.

But winning is simply a desirable byproduct of development, and fans need to appreciate minor league games for what they are. It's fine if fans want to immerse themselves in pennant races, batting championships and powerful statistics but the real value to the fan is appreciating the sterling defensive plays, late-inning rallies and powerful pitching performances because they're all there for the watching.

When the Rock Cats lost set-up man Rob Delaney to Triple-A Rochester, the first reaction is to dwell on what the team lost. Delaney's contribution to the Cats over the first 10 weeks of the season was monumental. But when the disappointment of losing him diminishes, we have to be happy for the player, happy for the Cats coaching staff for inspiring Delaney and happy that the Twins' system is producing.

In the big leagues, there is little to be happy about other than winning.

Vince Lombardi ("Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing.") may not have liked the concept, but minor league baseball provides the excitement of watching young players develop.

In New Britain, we marvel in the fact that Kyle Lohse, now a multi-millionaire with the St. Lous Cardinals, was once 3-18 with a 6.04 ERA with the Rock Cats in 2000. How about Ron Mahay, a light-hitting outfielder with the New Britain Red Sox in the early 1990s, still in the big leagues as a left-handed relief pitcher?

We can also marvel about having the chance to see how a young Joe Mauer blended remarkable talent with that intangible "feel" for the game into super-stardom. And how left-handed hitting Jason Kubel took the EL by storm for a mere month, showing the Twins that his ability was at a higher level.

On the other side of the coin, we have seen highly touted first-round bonus babies hit the wall and splatter into the domain of working stiffs like most of us tend to be. Remember pitcher Adam Johnson? How about the sad cases of LHP Ryan Mills and OF B.J. Garbe, great young guys who for one reason or another didn't have what it takes.

There's nothing I'd rather see then an EL pennant flying majestically over New Britain Stadium, but you know what? There's nothing wrong with just enjoying the baseball as the games go rolling by.

LIP LASHES OUT

I don't often do this but the emotions are bubbling to the surface and if I don't let it out with a primal scream, I'm afraid I'll implode. And none of you want that, at least until you read what lies ahead.

 

HEADLINE – David Ortiz suffers through slump

 

LIP'S QUIP – Go ahead, fair-weather Bosox boosters. Hammer away. What have you done for me lately? Make a mistake and get outta here. Those two world championships were a long time ago and Papi's hitting .187. As an acquaintance of David when he played for the New Britain Rock Cats in 1996 and visited when the Minnesota Twins played an exhibition game in our fair city, I can tell you that he's is wonderfully human, not some clutch-hitting machine who exists for the pleasure of the most narrow-minded sports fans in the country.

And you call yourself blue-staters, compassionate liberals who can't wait to support the next candidate who eschews bleeding-heart causes, but you dump on the guy who carried your beloved team to two championships. I don't care if Ortiz hits .087. You should kiss the ground he walks on for what he did for your 86 years of suffering. For the way you've all treated him, I wish your seasons without fulfillment were at 93 and counting.

 

HEADLINE – Phoenix Mercury allow sponsors on jerseys

 

LIP'S QUIP – I've heard all the rationalization for propping up the WNBA. It supports Title XI legislation. Hey, it's common in European soccer and NASCAR. Any more excuses for the public not buying into women's professional basketball in many of the cities it's in?

Let me preface any further comments with this: I love watching the women play hoop. You won't find a stauncher supporter than me when it comes to reporting on scholastic girls sports or most any amateur endeavor involving women. I am not a sexist, and I can give you the names of 1,000 females who would bristle at the suggestion. And I hope and pray that Tony DiCicco's women's soccer league can make the grade. But when it comes to success at the professional level, you're in a different universe. People have to be willing to dig into their pockets and pay the price of admission.

This has never been a problem at Mohegan Sun. The union of the highly successful casino complex and the WNBA was well-conceived and a blessing for a region that relishes women's basketball. I'm sorry to say that the same love for the sport does not exist across the width and breadth of our nation. The demise of the Houston franchise is a solemn warning. Face it, if it wasn't for the long arms of the NBA serving as a safety net, the WNBA would be fighting for its life.

So I wish the Mercury good luck in their sponsorship decision, and I'll always love Diana no matter what she wears on her jersey, but when seawater starts leaking into the galley, it's not long before the ship starts listing.

 

HEADLINE – Pirates trade All-Star OF Nate McLouth to Braves

 

LIP'S QUIP – Speaking of sinking ships, here is another reason for the proud fans of Pittsburgh to hibernate between the Penguins' final power play of the season and the beginning of NFL training camp. How can fans and sponsors in the Steel City possibly lay out their hard-earned dollars to support a team that hasn't had a winning season since I was wearing bell-bottoms and continue to deal away their future? I saw McLouth come through the Pirates' system and he's an exciting, productive, young player who could serve as a key piece for a pennant-winning club. Haven't they as much as told their fans that they will not be able to compete in the climate that currently exists in baseball.

The once-proud Buccos aren't alone on the small-market express to Downtown Disintegration. How can the Oakland A's in all good conscience market that brutal ballclub with all its pitching peddled to large markets to their loyal (but scant) subjects? Tim Hudson. Dan Haren. Rich Harden. Barry Zito. Joe Blanton. Huston Street. Jason Isringhausen. Some have been more productive than others but the ongoing fire sale on the Oakland hill must disturb somebody other than me.

Baseball is headed for an apocalypse, perhaps not in my lifetime, but how long will small-market teams continue to commit hara-kiri (no, not the late Cubbies announcer) and lure their fans and supporters to a spiral staircase with no top floor? And remember, Red Sox and Yankee fans who care only about their own teams, you have to have somebody to play other than each other, the Angels, Dodgers and Phillies.