Eulogy For A Friend

The following was printed in the September 18, 2009 edition of the Lawrence Eagle-Tribune.

HAVERHILL — Stephen R. Landry Jr., 26, of Haverhill, passed away unexpectedly at his home.

Stephen was born in Lawrence on April 20, 1983 to Allyson (Engels) Senee of Haverhill and Stephen R. Landry Sr. of Bradford.

Stephen was the cherished grandson of Cecelia Landry of North Andover, Garrett Engels of Malden and Alice Engels of Seabrook, N.H. He was predeceased by his grandfather, Reginald Landry.

It is with tremendous sadness that I write today’s blog entry. Steve Landry, one of my great childhood friends, recently passed away. I’d like to take this opportunity to share some of my thoughts and memories of Steve.

Steve enrolled at Thomson Elementary School in North Andover sometime in third or fourth grade, and though I don’t remember the impetus behind us becoming friends, we hit it off fairly quickly after his arrival. Steve lived on Beverly St., two streets away from my home on Middlesex. The families of Thomson students lived in pretty close quarters, and Steve quickly became a fixture in the neighborhood and in my group of friends at the time. Steve and I remained close through middle school and freshman year at North Andover High School, after which he moved to New Hampshire. I saw him sparingly from that point.

Steve had a rather legendary temper. More often than not, he was pleasant to be around. But certain things would happen that would set him off and he’d go into a rage. To be fair, his temper and mood swings could be somewhat frightening, but he would never direct them at me or our other friends. Steve acted as a sort of protector; he had the gumption to say what was on his mind and he never backed down from anyone. If he perceived that he or any of us were being slighted, he had no problem getting in the offender’s face. It didn’t matter if it was a peer or a teacher. Sometimes this would get us into a bit of trouble, but Steve felt it was his duty as a friend to help us if we ever had any issues. We admired and respected him for that.

As a child, I (and probably most kids back then) had self-esteem issues. At Thomson, I was young enough to put those thoughts out of my mind by playing a video game or riding my bike or something. When I arrived at North Andover Middle School, however, those issues became magnified. I started becoming worried about girls. I worried about coming off as “cool”. It was a confusing and often troubling time. Steve wasn’t just protective muscle. He became a confidante, and we would talk about these childhood problems. He gave me an outlet to vent about my situation, and I provided the same for him. I felt like we worked through our problems together, and without that, my experience in middle school undoubtedly would have been much worse.

Of course, Steve was also hysterical. He loved mischief and he loved a good laugh. I mentioned previously that he’d say anything to anyone. In seventh grade, we had a science teacher named Ms. McMillen. None of my classmates much cared for her at the time, and we’d often interrupt her classes with idiotic questions guised as serious inquiries. Two of my other classmates and dear friends, Matt Steele and Jeremy Cote, still talk about a time that he interrupted Ms. McMillen, mid-sentence, to ask, “I know astronauts can go up. But can they go down?” It was such a stupid question, asked with a perfect tone of sincerity. We all had a good laugh. Another time, Ms. McMillen had had enough of Steve’s antics for one day, and kicked him out of the class. Steve protested and asked specifically why he was being kicked out. When Ms. McMillen said they would discuss it later, Steve asked with incredulousness, “Forget that. Why don’t we get it out in the open now?” Of course, in a group of thirteen year olds, all looking to ruin the class, this comment inspired complete lunacy; one of those sublime moments where the teacher completely loses control of the class.

In eighth grade, we had an English teacher named Ms. Erickson. We were reading detective novels and Ms. Erickson, doubling as the drama teacher at the middle school, had arranged “crime scenes” in the back of her classroom based on the books we were reading. Steve, Jeremy, and another friend of ours, Chris Weller, would break all of the crime scene props daily. Each day, Ms. Erickson would set everything up again, and each day everything would be broken and smashed. Eventually, she turned to gluing everything down as a way to prevent this. It didn’t work. I remember nearly peeing myself laughing as Steve yanked chess pieces off of a chessboard they were glued to and stomped them on the floor. Sure, it was immature, reckless destruction, but we were fourteen, and that kind of stuff was hilarious to us then.

I think what I’ll remember the most about Steve is simply being a kid with him. When I think of what childhood was like growing up near the Lawrence border of North Andover, Steve is one of the first people that pops into my mind. He and our other friends played baseball at Carl Thomas together, we went to each other’s birthday parties, we watched Saturday morning wrestling, and we bought candy at Frannie’s and Joe’s. It sounds really corny, but he really will live on in those memories forever.

Though I hadn’t seen Steve for many years, the idea that I won’t see him again is one that fills me with sadness. For those that knew him well and counted him as a friend, he was one of the best. So long, pal. Death comes for us all; but it shouldn’t ever come this soon.

John Lacey

Phish - Joy

Phish
Joy (2009)
JEMP Records

Phish’s new studio album, Joy, shares many similarities with their previous album before this one, Undermind. I had written in my Forgotten Records column on the Undermind album back in May that the album was quite peculiar because its release was completely overshadowed by Phish’s farewell tour in the summer of 2004. At the time, Undermind marked the first instance I noticed where a new studio album by a band was not only considered an afterthought, but an outright nuisance. No one wanted to hear those songs played on Phish’s final tour because there was only so much time with the band left (and the songs weren’t very good, either). So Undermind was quickly forgotten about until I dragged it out of mothballs a few months ago.

But in Joy we have an album that follows the exact same trajectory as Undermind. Released in conjunction with Phish’s comeback tour of summer 2009, Joy marks another slate of songs that no one wanted to hear live and that no one, including hardcore Phish fans, cares much about. With the release of Joy, Phish albums have officially become companion pieces to the tours, and not, as is customary, the other way around. I guess that’s not automatically a bad thing, if the music is good enough to stand out, but it’s generally not good for an album’s sales and legacy for it to be forgotten about as quickly as it arrives. Additionally, Joy is a boring and awful name for an album.

But what of the music? Things start out pretty well, actually. “Backwards Down the Number Line” is a nice little galloping pop song that mixes a solid chorus with a well-done jam piece towards its conclusion. If Phish actually cared about selling this record, they would have opened with this every night, because it works as a heralding of the return of the band and would have gotten crowds excited about one of their new songs right off the bat.

Unfortunately, “Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan” brings about an extended malaise from which the album does not recover. What follows are a multitude of saccharine, blasé pop songs with bad lyrics and none of Phish’s childish but endearing charm. The lyrics on “Joy” are especially painful (“when we were young we thought life was a game / but then somebody leaves you and you’re never the same”); like something I would have excitedly scribbled in a notebook when I was fifteen. Trey’s lyrics were fine when he was singing about “the foggy cavern’s musty grime” or being “stranded for a moment on the ocean of Osiris”, even though they were nonsense, because they were imaginative, they worked, and because they were lyrics all his own. Joy is filled with forced lines, painfully obvious references and tired metaphors.

Additionally, if Phish wanted to make a pop record, they would have been better off just going for it and dropping all pretense of jamming. I realize that’s their MO, but they can always add the jams in later live. On “Backwards Down the Number Line”, the jam works at the end because the song is good and because they successfully built up to it; the jam served as a payoff. But in “Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan”, the song isn’t very good, and the jam at the end feels undeserved, almost like a cop out.

Joy moves through a series of tracks that are more inspired than what’s on Undermind, but truthfully not much better. “Sugar Shack” is a reggae-infused Mike-sung track (yikes) whose ultra-bright verses sound like an amalgamation of Phish and any number of pop divas currently blighting the musical landscape. “Ocelot” was a fun song live that doesn’t do a whole lot on the record, but at least it’s not actively bad. “Light” has an awesome intro that I wish they would have stuck with instead of delving back into more of the same crap we’ve been hearing for 35 minutes. Joy is just so neutered; nothing stands out.

Until “Time Turns Elastic”. The thirteen minute album centerpiece is not the greatest song either, but it at least breaks the spell of bad songs and does some interesting and often pleasant sounding things. Even though it’s thirteen minutes, it never loses steam, unlike some of the streamlined pop songs on the first half of the record. This is definitely Joy’s best song.

Joy is simply bad. If Phish continues to write songs like this, they’re honestly better off becoming a nostalgia act and forgoing new studio albums. I can only recommend the album’s first track and “Time Turns Elastic”, and even those are mild recommendations. See them live; avoid this.

D+

John Lacey

The Boston Sports List #2: Most Hated Teams continued

5) Los Angeles Lakers

I considered putting the Montreal Canadiens in this spot, but the Lakers aren’t even in the same conference as the Celtics so I had to go with them. The Lakers are probably the fiercest historical rivals of the Celtics. The two teams have played each other eleven times in the NBA Finals, with the Celtics winning nine of the eleven meetings. The dichotomy between the two teams is so evident even Spike Lee referenced it in Do the Right Thing. In the 80s, the Celtics were the blue-collar, hard working white team. The “Showtime” Lakers were the flashy and flamboyant black team. Each year, the NBA season became a lesson in race relations.

Of course, the rivalry between the Celtics and Lakers dates back to the days of Russell and Chamberlain, with Russell’s Celtics teams always beating the Lakers. Chamberlain may have been the more prolific scorer and possibly the better player, but Russell was the better winner, and he proved it year in and year out, often at the expense of Los Angeles.

Perhaps the greatest memory of the rivalry for Celtics fans was the 1969 NBA Finals. Boston had just snuck into the playoffs as the final team into the Eastern Conference, and 1969 was Russell’s final year in the NBA. The Lakers were heavily favored, but the Celtics managed to bring the series to seven games. In the deciding game, played in Los Angeles, balloons waited in the rafters to be showered upon celebrating fans. Unfortunately for them, the Celtics won the game and the championship and the balloons never came down.

The Lakers are an interesting rival because they’re not even in the same conference as the Celtics and because regular season games between the two teams really aren’t a big deal around here. The sheer number of times the teams have met in the NBA finals and the fantastic battles that have occurred between them make this a great rivalry.

4) Montreal Canadiens

I’ll admit I don’t know as much about hockey as the other major sports, but I do know that the Canadiens hail from a dirty French city and their dirty fans flood Boston nearly every year for playoff games. I also know that the Canadiens have routinely beaten the bag out of the Bruins in nearly every important game the two teams have played since the dawn of time.

Because I really don’t know a lot about the rivalry and the players involved, I’ll leave you with something my father told me many years ago. The Bruins and Canadiens played each other in the semifinals of the 1979 Stanley Cup playoffs, and the series went to seven games. In the final game, in the game’s final minutes, the Bruins were penalized for having too many men on the ice. The Canadiens scored near the end of regulation to tie the game, and went on to win the game in overtime. My father was none too happy. In a daze, he went to take a shower, and not looking, slipped on a bar of soap. Needless to say, he spent the night in the hospital. So the Canadiens nearly killed my father. Fuck them.

3) Pittsburgh Steelers

I’ve been privy to some fantastic moments as a Boston sports fan. The ALCS comeback against the Yankees. The three Super Bowls. The 2008 NBA championship. To me, my favorite moments were the 2002 and 2005 AFC Championship games. There is no greater feeling I’ve ever had as a sports fan than the Patriots waltzing into Pittsburgh and beating the bag out of the Steelers in those games. I hate their fans, I hate most of their players, and I used to hate their coach. They’d actually be higher on the list if it weren’t for the two even more odious teams in front of them.

Steeler fans carry themselves with this absurd sense of self-entitlement and accomplishment, even though they have the highest body fat index of any fan base of the NFL (it makes sense that their stadium is named after a brand of ketchup). Their signature is waving a bunch of yellow towels around for three hours every game. These people make me sick. Watching Brady torch them in 2005 was one of the more gratifying games I’ve seen, just behind game seven of the aforementioned ALCS, especially since the Steelers had snapped the Patriots’ 21 game winning streak.

To top it off, Hines Ward is an ever-smiling crybaby who takes cheap shots at opposing players and somehow always seems to make huge plays. Their former coach, Bill Cowher, is another dim-witted buffoon who never would have won a title was it not for Seattle’s atrocious clock management in Super Bowl XL. And Ben Roethlisberger, affectionately known to every jock-sniffing play-by-play man as just “Ben”…well, I just don’t like him. Here’s hoping the Pats get another shot to send these fat dopes hope unhappy.

#2) New York Yankees

Protocol dictates the Yankees have to be here somewhere towards the top. And though I did used to seethe with rage when I’d see Johnny College in a Posada jersey or watch highlights of dickhead Paul O’Neill running his mouth during yet another Yankee win, my feelings have largely cooled towards them. Certainly, the Red Sox winning the 2004 championship, defeating the Yankees in stunning fashion along the way, contributed greatly to this. I think it was Bill Simmons who wrote, “The Red Sox and the Yankees are just two baseball superpowers who will always be in each other’s way”.

And he (or whoever said it) is right. The Sox aren’t the plucky underdog anymore. They’ve conquered the demon and added another championship and another ALCS appearance to their recent resume. They’re expected to be in the World Series every year. One could argue that the Red Sox are the class and envy of Major League Baseball, not just because of their storied history and recent success, but because of the way they are able to build their team. Not only can they sign just about any free agent they want, but they also have a tremendous farm system and a very strong coaching staff and front office. These aren’t the Red Sox who lost the heartbreakers in agonizing fashion; they’re not even the underachievers of earlier in this decade who hated playing with each other (the “25 players, 25 cabs” Red Sox of 2000-2002). This team is different, and will forever be different. Because of that, we’ve been spoiled. And because of that, I can’t hate the Yankees as much as I used to. They used to be the toast of the league. Now the Sox are.

Obviously, I don’t care much for the Yankees. I wish that old bastard Steinbrenner would expire already and that his loudmouth idiot son would follow him. A-Rod’s “what did I do” routine after slapping the ball from Arroyo’s glove in 2004 made me forever hate him. My friend and I equate Mark Teixeira’s perennially puzzled-looking face to that of a meathead college lacrosse player (no offense if any of you are reading). I don’t understand how Mariano Rivera has one pitch and no one can figure out how to hit it. I think it’s hilarious that they tore down one of the most hallowed arenas in the world for nearly an exact duplicate, and the tickets closest to the field cost so much money that no one will sit in them. Also, the Yankees have taken more time off of my life than any other franchise in any other sport, so I don’t like that, either.

But the Red Sox season would not be as fun without the Yankees. We wouldn’t have yearly tight pennant races, we wouldn’t have half the drama in the season that we get when the two teams square off, and we simply wouldn’t be Red Sox fans without the Yankees around. The Yankees’ mere existence provides me with too much excitement to hate them more than any other team. I’m afraid that honor goes to…

#1) New York Jets

Remember earlier, when I wrote that I respected Derek Jeter because I expected him to come through in big situations, and I didn’t respect A-Rod because I know he’ll fail? I respect the Yankees because of their history and because I know they’re a formidable opponent and that the Sox are in for a dogfight when they play each other. I don’t respect the Jets because they’re a gaggle of crybabies who never come through. That and their fans are sub-human.

They won a Super Bowl sixty years ago and still expect people to care. Since that time, Joe Namath, the hero of that Super Bowl, embarrassed himself forever on live TV. They haven’t won a meaningful game in ages. They swiped head coach Bill Parcells away from the Patriots on the eve of Super Bowl XXXI, providing a completely unnecessary distraction right before the (then) biggest game in Pats history. He then took a flight back to New England by himself, cleared out his office, and joined the Jets right after. Shithead.

Their big attraction is “Fireman Ed”, a bald moron who sits atop a fat moron and leads a “J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets” chant that the delusional Long Island/Jersey Jets fans lap up. Jets fans are brilliant because they’ll constantly tell you about how much Brady sucks or how the Jets are going to win the division with whatever retard they have at quarterback/head coach. They have no evidence to back anything up and then act aghast when the team inevitably goes 6-10. They turned on Chad Pennington before he even turned bad, though he was probably the best quarterback they’ve had in ages. Amazingly, the Jets dumped him for Brett Favre and Pennington ended up winning comeback player of the year for Miami last season (and leading the team to an AFC East title).

The most egregious sin the Jets created was unleashing Spygate on the world. What was a fairly trivial matter eventually exploded into a media circus that threatened to overshadow the Patriots’ undefeated season and caused another needless distraction right before the Super Bowl against the Giants. I can ignore the idiocy of Jets fans and the endless string of bad decisions and poor play that has plagued the franchise for years. But I can’t ignore the fact that the Jets attempted to tarnish the legacy of my favorite football team, and the great accomplishments I’ve seen them achieve. For that, they get the top spot.

John Lacey