The Portfolios

Let’s make it a trifecta of birthday posts. October 10th Piers turned 18. Happy Birthday, Bory!

Lennon in New York

Instant Karma’s gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on the head
Better get yourself together
Pretty soon you’re gonna be dead…

Words to live by. Today he would have been 68.

28 Today

Thanks Xianyi, for a lovely birthday!

We went to the new Dali exhibition at MoMA, then walked to the Boathouse in Central Park and had a lovely dinner. Batman at IMAX had been on the original itinerary, but we bagged it and lingered for dessert.

More happy news: today we are going to Morristown for cousin Jenna’s wedding.

MUSIC WORLD
VBS recently tagged along with Brooklyn’s Birthday Boyz on an unprecedented tour into the hinterlands of China’s underground rock scene.

The Olympics are on, and Xianyi and I are engaged in a little friendly national rivalry - we’ve got a $20 bet on who wins more gold medals, the US or China. Guess who I took?

Right now it looks like China’s multi-billion-yuan effort to rack up medals is paying off. I checked in with the NYT medal tracker this morning at work and they were leading all countries with nine gold medals already! And the lowly US with only three. Then I saw that some of those Chinese golds came from the air gun events, and I thought: some golds ought to count more than others.

Last night we watched the Americans win the men’s 400m relay, and it was easily the most exciting swimming race I’ve ever seen. Which I know isn’t saying much, but it was still a thrill. Probably because the backstory was that the French team was talking smack, saying they were going to “smash” the USA… and then that dude - the one who isn’t Michael Phelps - caught up to and just barely surpassed the French guy in the last 25 meters or so. Watching him speed up like that made my eyes widen. That was really something. Even Xianyi was excited.

***

UPDATE 8-12-08: Interrupted last night. Was making dinner and Jarrett called and Xianyi came home and then I was watching Team USA sweep gold medals up from the bottom of the pool. Phelps easily won the 200m freestyle - by about a length. Aaron Peirsol and Natalie Coughlin took the 100m backstrokes. And now the US has seven golds - but China has eleven. This is going to be closer than I thought.

Saturday night Piers performed in his last high school production, playing the god of death in the musical “Once on This Island.” It was a very ambitious show for these kids to put on, full of large-scale dance scenes that clearly required many hours of careful choreography. And I call them kids because they are, after all, children - but watching the New Players perform is always an amazement at how professional these adolescents are. They are so good, so serious - and yet so young - that it’s actually intimidating. And I find myself laughing to ward off the fear.

Family Shot After the Show

Piers was wonderful, but in typical style, he didn’t think so. He said his voice was off, that he wasn’t focused, etc. And I have to agree that I liked “Into the Woods” much more, which I saw him perform this winter. But that was really because I liked the story more. “Into the Woods” was more developed in my opinion, and the music was better. I couldn’t point to any songs in “Once on This Island” that I really liked. But that was ok, because I was really just there for Piers.

It’s really cool to see all these kids after a show: they are all so high on adrenalin, and they’re always on their way to the cast party. Many audience members form a sort of gauntlet outside the dressing rooms and wait for their family members to come out, and then the place turns into a madhouse while everyone hugs, cries, laughs and snaps photos. Some choose to wait outside because it really is just too much:

Now Piers is headed to Carnegie Mellon University, where he has been admitted into the prestigious voice program. My sources tell me that they only accept eight students into the program each year. This is high vindication for Piers, who took a lot of shit off Mom and Dad for his bad grades throughout his career. While he struggled to keep up his French scores, he was busy attending rehearsals till 11pm every night and performing 3 or 4 shows a year, plus directing others, taking voice lessons, and even mentoring younger singers. All that and he held down a job in town (well, most of the time… hahaha for those in the know).

All the while he told the ‘rents: don’t worry, I’ll graduate, I’ll get into college. And now he’s in one of the best damn schools in the country. Way to go, Bory!

Mom and I are actually driving him out there in another week, which I’m sort of looking forward to, except for the 14 horus of driving and the 2 nights away from Xianyi. But it will be cool to see where he’s going to be. The drive back promises to be tragic as Mom tries and fails to hold it together after seeing her last child off into the world. God bless her.

Congratulations, Piers, for being AWESOME!

Team Portfolio was this close to qualifying for the US Amateur - we were right there through 32 holes - and then, nuclear meltdown.

I have to take some responsibility. In my many years of caddying, with so much riding on the line, I have never made such a boneheaded recommendation as telling Will that 5 iron was the club on the 15th hole.

The problem was my notes. See, Will had almost missed his practice round by driving to the wrong Trump National - he went to the one in New Jersey instead of New York, and so he ended up getting in only 14 holes that day. Hence I was filling in notes during our morning round because it was clear we were going to be around in the afternoon - unlike last year when we got cut at lunch and I went back to Hackensack and caddied for Jim McGovern who shot a heavenly 61 that day.

So when we came around to the 15th that afternoon, just coming off a birdie at 14 and just 2-over for the tournament, club selection was crucial. We were looking at a par-3 playing about 176 with water on the right. Looking back, it’s obvious that 6-iron was the club. The problem was, he had hit 5-iron in the morning and ended up on the fringe a little back of the pin. I was looking at the notes, thinking, we hit 5 this morning, let’s hit 5 again. Well, either there was some wind in the morning, or Will didn’t get all of it, because the 5 in the afternoon sailed over the green, hit some branches, landed on a cart path and jumped out of bounds, effectively ending our run.

Will then hit a provisional ball into the water. We went and looked for the ball and found it OB. He dropped in the drop area and hit a bad chip. Then he 3-putted for an 8. Then he was so pissed he lost his drive right on the next hole. Then he went for the green with a 3-wood and hit it in the water. It was awful to watch. He took another 8. How many back-to-back eights do you see out there?

The funny part was that he had makeable birdie putts on the last two holes and missed them both. He took an 83 for the afternoon, signed his card and we went directly to the parking lot. That was that. We later found out that +3 made it into the US Amateur. He was +2 through 32 holes! We were crestfallen.

The whole drive home we were thinking: what were we thinking? Why did we hit five from 176 out? One reason was the notes. Another reason was that Will was hitting five into almost every green, and he was hitting it damn well. So when we thought it was 5 on 15, we were like, we love 5-iron. It was groupthink on a small scale.

I mentioned to Will that eight is a lucky number in China, and that two eights together were especially auspicious. He said, “Really?” with a note of optimism…

On the Saw Mill Parkway, driving home, we saw a terrible accident involving a burned-out, flipped-over car and miles upon miles of people backed up in traffic. I don’t know about Will, but I was thinking there’s more important things than golf, even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.

And we still have the club championship. Wouldn’t it be awesome to be club champ at 20? First match, 9:08 tomorrow morning.

I ended up caddying for Will on Saturday in the first round of the qualifier for Club Championship. He shot an outstanding 35-33 for his own personal best at Hackensack, 68.

He was hitting the ball so well, it was just a privilege to be able to watch it. But to actually play a part in it was an honor. Will and I were really working together throughout, with me providing valuable insight into exact distances to the flag. Will trusted my every judgment, and the swings he was making out there were perfect - he had approaches land between 8 inches and 6 feet about eight or nine times.

He had a 25-footer for eagle on one. Chipped to four feet on two. Blasted out of the sand to 10 feet on three (his first of only two bogeys). Knocked it to 6 feet on four, 5 feet on five, 6 feet on seven, 8 inches on 12, 5 feet on 13 (a rare miss), four feet on 16, 8 feet on 17 (another miss, sadly). He rolled it in from 20 feet for birdie on 15. It was just an all-around fabulous display of professional-level golf. His was the low round of the day by four strokes.

I wasn’t going to carry for him originally. I planned on letting him qualify on his own, leaving me free to make some money on Saturday and then head down the shore that night. Besides, I knew he could qualify no problem and that where he really needed me was in the matches the next two weekends. But I had no ride up to the club to make the early loops - so I took the train and got there in the middle of qualifiying rounds. What was I going to do? Pick up the bag of some random joe against Will just so I could make a lousy 60 or 80 bucks? No way.

But the shore plans remained in effect, which meant I would not be on the bag Sunday. This lead to a little experiment. What would the difference be between Will having me by his side and playing alone off the cart? Although it’s not exactly scientific, with only one round of testing, the result turns out to be: 13 strokes.

Yeah. Boy went out on Sunday morning leading the field by four and ended up with an 81 - a match of cards put him as the fourth seed. No big deal; he’s in the tournament. But the word around the club now is that I am like a natural force of Looper and that, without me on the bag, the Golden Boy Will turns magically into the duffer Bill. As Denis put it, “Thank God you’re going to be out here for him next weekend.”

Will was texting me last night, but about credit cards - nothing about the golf. He probably knows that I heard what happened out there and maybe he didn’t feel like talking about it. I didn’t bring it up. But the numbers speak volumes. Even though a million other things also factored into the two scores, as far as the jokers around the Yard are concerned, it’s all me, baby. It’s all about The Guy. Which I find hilarious.

Friday night’s match was dead even going into the last hole. After an auspicious start for myself, birdieing the first hole while Will doubled, to give me a 7-shot lead (getting five strokes), I managed to stumble, as I usually do. There were a few lost balls. Will, meanwhile, just continued to make pars. We ended up on the 9th tee tied.

I drove the ball right down the center of the fairway, and Will sliced it OB. That pretty much ended it. We couldn’t find his ball and he played his provisional into the trap. Though it was near complete darkness, I absolutely pured a 5-iron right at the stick to about 15 feet. A simple two-putt par, and a vital victory in the Bory Cup matches.

The points are now all tied at 4 each. I need 3 and a half to win the cup; Will needs 3 to defend it.

This year’s competition for the Bory Cup is heating up as it enters its final stages.

Conceived as a ten-match summer event between Will and I last year, the format of the Bory Cup underwent some alterations this year. It also acquired an actual cup (above) to be held by the champion. Will was the inaugural winner.

Rather than ten matches, the event has been extended to a maximum of 14. But it could be over in as little as seven. Each match is worth one point, with a halve awarding half a point to each competitor. The defending champion needs seven points to retain the cup; the challenger needs 7.5 to wrest it.

This year started off more evenly than last year, when Will basically ran away with it. (Though I don’t remember the exact score, as I was not documenting it, I think I only won one or two points). The first match of 2008 was held May 3, right after Will got back from school, and was halved. The second match, which I wrote about for its lopsidedness, was a decisive victory for the elder brother. But in a stretch from late May to the end of June, Will was dominant, with three victories and a halve. Just when it was looking awful, I came back with a narrow victory in a 9-hole match in which Will gave me 5 shots (these matches are handicapped, naturally, since our indexes vary by about 10 shots).

Now the score stands Will 4, Rindy 3. The next match is scheduled for this evening around 6pm, where we will hope to get in 18 before the light closes us out. With sunset scheduled for 8:18, we may only have room for nine. But every match is a match. And with Will going back to school in three weeks, we have to get them in where we can!